"Oh." Shit. Tank, as in the brother we fucking left behind, dead, in the explosion, the explosion Mad Dog's fucking lackeys caused. "Fuck, man," I said, extending my hand. "Good to meet you."
Footsteps behind me interrupted us. Geezer greeted me. "Hammer," he said. "What's up?"
"I need to talk to you," I said, regretting turning away from the Swede. I made a mental note that I needed to talk to that kid, Tank's brother. "Already cleared this with Blaze. I want to come out of retirement."
Sitting cross-legged on a mat on the balcony of my apartment, I closed my eyes, focused on my in-breath and my out-breath, trying to practice letting go of the need to control my thoughts. All the same, I found myself frustrated as my mind wandered, to the way my leg was falling asleep, to the fact that I was sitting on the balcony because I felt like I should be getting some fresh air but it was fucking hot. I could feel a single drop of sweat make its way down the side of my temple.
Damn it. This wasn't working at all. I'd tried meditation on and off over the years, attempting to find some peace. Years ago I practiced it, trying to let go of my need for revenge, to quell the anger I felt when I thought about what had been done to me, to my sister. But it didn't work.
I don't know why I had returned to it. It was like the other things I did, the ways I kept trying to be a good person, kept telling myself that I could somehow skew the balance of karmic debt in my favor. Always striving, always trying to be someone I wasn't. Someone good. So I guess I hadn't fully embraced the darkness within me.
Yet.
I reached up to my neck, my fingers tracing over the spot where Aston had tightened the belt around my neck. At first I'd thought he was angry because he'd had me followed, had seen me with Hammer, or leaving the hotel. I was stupid - beyond stupid- for going to meet Hammer there. But I realized I hadn't been caught. It had nothing to do with Hammer and everything to do with whatever the hell drug he was taking. Aston was getting more erratic, which meant he was more dangerous. The red marks had faded, the remnants of where he had pulled too tightly, let go of his control. That was always the danger with Aston, the loose grip he had on his own capacity for control. There were no welts, not there anyway.
After that was a different story entirely.
After that, he had lost control, angry, I think, because he hadn't choked me. Angry with me for regaining consciousness. Angry that I didn't simply pass out and die.
But, enraged, he'd hit me, socked me right across the face. I brought my hand to my cheekbone, touched the area under my eye gingerly, even though by now, a week later, it no longer felt painful to the touch.
I heard a knock at the door, and a rush of fear went through me. All I could think was that it was one of Aston's men, summoning me so that Aston could finish what he had started.
I steeled myself, inhaling deeply as I pressed myself against the side of the door, angled my body to look through the peephole.
"What the hell?" I asked the question aloud, without even thinking about it, then lowered my weapon and pulled open the door.
"Meia," he said. He stood in the doorway, several days worth of stubble on his face, wearing a leather vest I'd not seen him wear before. A leather jacket from a biker club. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks immediately on seeing him.
"What the hell are you doing here? At my house?" I asked through clenched teeth, practically spitting the words at him. I stepped just outside of the doorway, looked down the hallway.
"What the hell happened to you?" A look of concern crossed Hammer's features, and his brow furrowed. "What did he do to you?"
"Nothing." I looked at Hammer's clenched fist, saw his anger, and all I could feel was panic. I wanted him out of the hallway, where anyone could see him. "Leave."
"His men aren't outside," Hammer said. "They're not watching."
"I don't need you here," I said. "Leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Now, move before I bust down your front door."
"No!" I pushed him back, panic building in my chest. I couldn't have him here. I couldn't take the chance that Aston was watching me, questioning my loyalty. "Stay here for a second. Do. Not. Move."
I slipped back into the apartment, terrified that Hammer was right behind me, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. When I opened the door again, I handed him the paper with the hotel name on it. "Thirty minutes," I said.
He nodded. "I swear to God, Meia, if you don't..." His voice trailed off, a warning to me that he expected me to show up.
I closed the door without a word, bolting it behind me. My heart beat furiously in my chest as I tried to process what had just happened.
Hammer had been following me, stalking me. And I hadn't noticed. Which meant that I'd gotten complacent. It meant that Aston could have been watching me and I might not have noticed. I mentally ran through the checklist of precautions I'd taken with Hammer. The first call was the one I'd taken in Aston's bathroom, in hushed whispers. But it was on my disposable cell phone, the number I'd given Hammer.
No, I told myself. If Aston knew anything, you would know by now. Aston wasn't exactly good at waiting when it came time to dole out punishment. And everything else, all of the other phone calls, had been on the second cell phone. The minute Hammer called, I put on shoes and went walking, an earpiece tucked into my ear and the phone tucked into the pocket of the hoodie I wore. I couldn't know whether Aston had my house bugged.
I was paranoid, I knew that. But who wouldn't be, in my situation? I had to be. It's what had gotten me this far. My paranoia had allowed me to survive.
The problem was that all of a sudden Hammer appeared in my life, and now I was taking risks I shouldn't. Risks I knew better than to take.
Risks that were going to get Ben and I killed.
I told myself this was not a risk. I justified it to myself as I took a circuitous route to the hotel, a place far from Aston's and, I told myself, where it was unlikely that Aston had any reach. I walked swiftly through the lobby, past the front desk, and straight to the elevators, still wearing the scarf that covered my hair, the sunglasses that hid the bruise under my eye.
I went straight to the room Hammer texted me, my breath caught in my throat the entire time, half-expecting one of Aston's goons to pop out and grab me at any moment.
But there was no boogeyman lurking, and when Hammer opened the door, my feeling of relief at not being caught was so intense I nearly collapsed into him. I stood there, just inside the doorway, so close to him that I could nearly feel him breathing.
"You used a fake name?" I asked.
"Give me some fucking credit," Hammer said, his voice sharp. "Of course I did. I'm not trying to get you killed."
"Showing up to my apartment like that, you will get me killed." The words came out harsher than I intended, and I cringed as I heard them leave my mouth. He wanted to help; I knew that. But sometimes the best of intentions wasn't good enough.
"I want to see what the hell that cocksucker did to you," Hammer said. He reached for my sunglasses, pulling them off my face, and I flinched at his touch, hating myself for the automatic reaction. Even as I looked down at the ground, I knew he saw my response, and he put his fingers under my chin, turning my face up toward him. "Christ, what the fuck has he done?"
I felt tears begin to fill up my eyes, threatening to overflow and spill down my cheeks. I would not let this man see me cry. I jerked away from his touch, and turned, walked to the other side of the room, looking for the mini-bar. I didn't even want a drink; I just wanted to be out from under the intensity of his gaze.
I grabbed one of the tiny bottles of amber liquid from the refrigerator, and poured it into the glass, not bothering to even read what it was. My hands shook as I brought it to my lips and sipped, grimacing at the burning of the alcohol as it hit my throat. I waited for it to quell my shakiness, but it didn't do anything.
From behind me, I heard Hammer approach, but I didn't turn around, willing myself to calm down. I didn't need h
im to see me as some weak thing, some pathetic girl who needed to be pitied.
He put his hand on my shoulder, his touch soft. Comforting. "Now, are you going to tell me what the fuck happened?"
"Aston," I said. I felt defeated. I was tired of running.
"This is what he does to you?" Hammer asked.
"I shouldn't be here," I said. "He has me followed sometimes. If his men see you here, he'll kill me. He'll kill my -"
"I know about the men," Hammer said, stepping forward and sliding both arms around me. I felt my body begin to relax, and I knew I couldn't do that. I couldn't let my guard down. Not with him, not with anyone.
"What do you mean, you know about the men?"
"I've been tracking them," he said.
"You've been spying on me?" Tracking down my apartment and showing up was one thing. Following me, tracking me like one of Aston's men was something entirely different. I didn't need another man who thought he owned me. My body stiffened, and I tried to step away from him, but he held me tight.
"Not like that," he said, his eyes blazing. "I was trying to keep you safe. I am trying to protect you, despite everything you're doing to try to prevent that from happening."
"If you were caught, do you know what would happen?" I felt panicked, my breath shallow. I was going to hyperventilate.
"Tell me," Hammer said, holding me tight. "Let me help."
"It's not me." I choked the words out, hardly daring to say it.
I felt Hammer's palms on my arms, his chest close to my back. My heart began to race, my breath short, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation at what I was about to say. It felt overwhelming, the magnitude of everything.
"Why are you with Aston?" he asked.
"It's - " I started. "There's just too much to explain. It's not for the reasons you think, though."
"You don't know what I think, Meia," he said.
"And you don't know anything about me, Hammer." I couldn't do this. I couldn't let him get involved with someone like me. It wasn't good for him, and it wasn't good for me. Not with what I had to do. There was too much of a chance I would feel something for Hammer, and I had to keep that shut down. No more attachments, I told myself. Nothing that might get in the way. Nothing that would leave anyone else gutted when I was killed.
I had already been on the receiving end of that with my sister. With my son, when he was ripped from my arms. I had been left in the aftermath, and I couldn't do it to someone else.
"I know you feel something. There's something between us, Meia. I know that much. You feel it too."
Yes, I felt it. I felt the nearly irresistible pull toward him, a force more powerful than I was. It was the kind of thing that only ended one way...destruction. "You don't know all the things I've done."
Hammer spun me around, his hands clasping my arms, and I tried to step away, but he held me there, his touch gentle but firm. He looked at me, his expression a mixture of lust and sadness. "Meia," he said. He kissed the top of my forehead, the feeling of his lips lingering as he withdrew, then kissed my temple, and my cheek, tilting my chin up toward him until my lips were nearly touching his. "The things I've done...people would think I was a monster."
"You did what you had to do for your family," I whispered. "You had to get payback for what happened."
"And whatever you've done, whoever you are," he said. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. Whatever the reason you're with Aston, you don't have to stay."
His lips were so close to mine I could nearly taste him. Despite everything screaming in my head, telling me to walk away, I wanted him. I had never wanted anyone, and to want someone like this, now, it was incomprehensible to me.
"I'll ruin you. People who are close to me, they die. They -" I couldn't say any more. But I could feel my resolve beginning to melt away, replaced by the desire for him that clouded my thoughts.
"Too late," Hammer said. "You've already ruined me." He touched his lips to mine, softly like before, and I felt my entire body on fire, charged with electricity. My lips parted, barely, and I thought, I should go, before he gets hurt. Before I get hurt.
But before I could think, his tongue found mine, and I felt my body respond in a way it never had before, not with anyone. I let out an involuntary moan, and I heard him make a noise in his throat, guttural, primal sounding, as his hands trailed down my back, pressing me against him. My nipples hardened against the fabric of my bra, and I felt myself melt into him. I pulled at his shirt, slipped my hands underneath, wanting to feel his skin. I wanted him naked. I wanted all of him. I didn't understand it, and I wasn't sure I could explain it. I'd never wanted someone like this before.
"Meia." He practically growled it, his mouth close to my ear, his hot breath sending shivers up my spine. I felt his hardness pressed against me, and I had a sudden pang of panic, this overwhelming sense of fear that he was like everyone else, every other man I'd been with who had used me.
I couldn't do this.
My body, tensed, and he felt it immediately, pulling away from me, looking into my eyes.
"I - Hammer, I'm not - Sex hasn't ever been something I liked or - "
His brow furrowed and I realized he was struggling to understand. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"It's not - I've never enjoyed it -" I was choking on my words, unable to say what I wanted to say, to let him know who I was. "I don't know what it's like to have sex with someone I don't hate."
"Meia," he said. I felt his hand on the side of my head, stroking my hair. "I don't want you to hate me."
"I might be too fucked up," I said, tears springing to my eyes, as if of their own accord. I blinked, willing them away, hating this weak part of me that had suddenly appeared. "I've been - since I was thirteen. I don't know anything else."
Hammer pulled back from me, his hands still on my arms, and a look of realization, then anger, crossed his face.
I've done it, I thought, closing my eyes. He's walking away. He doesn't want to be with someone as damaged as I am.
And then I realized he hadn't moved an inch, his hands still warm on me. "Jesus. Fuck, Meia," he said. "Thirteen. I can't- Christ, I've been going on and on about the shit that's happened to me, all of my loss. Meanwhile you're - fuck, I'm a selfish asshole."
"I don't know what to do...with this," I said, my voice hoarse. "I don't know how to do any of this. I'm not...normal." He hadn't moved, his feet rooted where he stood, and I wondered if he was going to leave. Surely he would.
"I don't want to hurt you, Meia," he said softly. "But I do I want all of you."
He was telling the truth. I could feel it, from the depths of me. He was not the kind of man who would hurt me. He would do anything to keep me from being hurt. It was the kind of person he was. "I know," I said. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
He didn't say anything, just looked at me for a long moment, and then I felt him pick me up and carry me, like I was nothing in his arms, toward the bedroom. I felt my heels slip off my feet as he carried me, landing on the floor with a quiet thump.
He laid me on the bed, slipping into the bed beside me, facing me on his side, his body elongated the length of mine. "Now," he said, his finger trailing my collarbone, sending shivers through my body. "I'm tired of waiting. You are going to tell me everything, and you're going to do it now."
Christ, this goddamned girl was going to be the death of me. I wanted to fuck her and protect her all at the same time. I couldn't get my head straight with her. She was right; I'd been stalking her. Shit, I'd become obsessive about it. I couldn't take that she was with Aston, couldn't deal with the fact that this man was obviously beating her. Hell, let's be real here - I couldn't stand the fact that anyone else was touching her, let alone hitting her.
I couldn't explain why I felt the way I did. I just knew it made me furious to think about it. I couldn't tolerate her being with anyone else. She was mine - I knew it, more than I knew anything else.
I looked at her, willing my gaze to somehow
break through all of the layers of protection she had built up around her to hide from everything. I would fucking tear through it like paper. I saw her open her mouth, and I knew by the look on her face she was about to tell me no, give me some excuse about why she couldn't tell me. I wasn't going to let the shame of whatever was in her past- hell, her present- keep her from opening herself to me.
"I'm not asking, Meia," I said. "You're here, lying in bed with me. Tell me all of it."
Her mouth opened, and the story began to spill out. "My son," she said. "It's all about my son. He'll be killed if I leave Aston."
I was silent, waiting, as she told me that Aston had taken her son, ripped him away from her, and kidnapped him to keep her bound to him. To keep her obedient and silent. I felt rage, the kind of rage that gets you like a punch to the gut, at the thought of what Aston was doing to her. I’d thought my shit was bad, had felt so fucking sorry for myself because I thought I’d lost MacKenzie, and here Meia was, her son fucking stolen from her.
I was a goddamned asshole. I’d given up, let go of MacKenzie instead of fighting for her. I’d let her go back to Puerto Rico, convinced that I was a shitty father and that was all there was to it. I’d let myself believe I couldn’t be better than that. And here was Meia, doing everything in her fucking power to fight for her