Hammer: M.C. Biker Romance (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Book 13) Page 8
I paid my busboy and bartenders as usual and then headed to the back of the restaurant. It was dark, late, and for a second it felt like the end of any other work shift. I walked out the back door and into the employee parking lot. There was no Hammer. No biggie. I decided to walk along the side of the restaurant. He had probably parked in front.
I saw his bike in the distance, and it sped up. It was still chilly in Petoskey after the sun went down. I pulled my jacket closer around me and quickened my steps.
The bike came up fast, and before I understood what I was seeing, it stopped. And I stopped. This wasn’t Hammer’s ride. It wasn’t Hammer.
“Found you bitch,” were the nasty words out of Dirt’s mouth. I turned to run. I was way too slow, and Dirt had me around the waist. He whispered in my ear.
“Maybe on the way home, I’ll have a little fun with you. Since you seem to like to fuck bikers.” I struggled to break free of his grasp, and both of us fell to the pavement. I tried to scramble away and felt a smack across my face. Something hot and coppery filled my mouth. That asshole had backhanded me!
I slid backward on my ass. I kicked. But Dirt was strong, mean, and on a mission to get me on that bike, conscious or unconscious.
“Get off me!” I screamed. And almost at the same moment, Dirt went flying backward.
Thank God, Hammer! He was there, and he’d flung Dirt off me. He charged forward towards Dirt.
I stood up and ran to Hammer.
“Come on, leave him, we need to go.” It was me now wanting to run. I knew the Hawk’s operation well enough to know they’d never let one person go after me. There had to be another.
Hammer didn’t listen. He landed a punch against Dirt’s face. The smaller biker staggered backward.
“Shit man, you’re supposed to get this piece of ass on a bike and back to Lynch.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Blood coated his teeth now thanks to Hammer’s punch.
“We’re on the fucking way.”
“Yeah? Looks like you’re fucking her, like everyone else. How’s that feel, used, stretched out?” Dirt was disgusting. I was disgusted to hear his voice.
Hammer punched him again, and this time Dirt crashed to the pavement. Hammer had knocked him out. Hammer nudged Dirt with his boot to confirm the state of affairs. Dirt was unconscious.
“Come on.”
Hammer put his hand out to me, and I took it. I didn’t argue, or rationalize, or claim to want to do shit on my own. I needed him now. I needed him to get us both out of there. He was either going to turn me over to Dirt or run. And he’d clearly decided to run, with me.
Hammer guided me to where he’d parked his bike.
“Hold on, this isn’t going to be a site seeing ride,” he said, and I clenched my legs and arms as tightly as I could around him. The power of the bike’s engine roared, and we surged forward.
“Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a place, it’s rough. But it’s hidden.” I risked a look backward. I wondered if I’d ever be in Petoskey again. I had hoped Petoskey would be my home for a while. Instead, it was a pass through. It was a place that offered me a hiding spot for so brief a time it was almost a joke. I clearly didn’t know how to disappear. Every fucking biker in the free could easily find me like they’d attached a red flag to the top of my head.
We rode. I was glad my stuff, what I had of it, was already packed in Hammer’s bike. There was no going back to my apartment. Then I saw a single headlight behind us. Dirt had shaken off the beat down and was on our tail.
“Dirt’s following us!” I yelled, and Hammer increased our speed. I held on tighter.
We followed curves and almost every turn that we came across.
Eventually, Dirt’s headlight was lost for a moment, and then Hammer abruptly turned off the road, into a wooded area. He stopped the bike and cut the engine. I wanted to ask what he was thinking, what was next, but he put his hand around to me and squeezed. We were as quiet as the woods around us. We were hidden in the trees but could still see the road we’d veered off.
I was still as a statue; so was Hammer. In the distance, a motorcycle roared. It got closer, and I tried not to shake. The headlight from Dirt’s bike illuminated the pitch-dark Route 31. I saw now what Hammer was doing. He wanted to be sure we were no longer driving somewhere with Dirt close behind. He wanted the man to have no idea which way we turned.
The motorcycle roared past us, and I exhaled. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. Hammer got off his bike and came around to me. He put his hand on my chin and slowly turned my face side to side. He was searching it, inspecting it. It was dark, and I had no idea what the hell he was doing.
“What, are you doing?”
“He hit you, hard.” He was pissed when he said it.
“I’m fine. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s fucking not. I’m going to kill him.” He lifted me off the bike and held me tightly in his arms. I felt him kiss the top of my head.
“He’s gone, it’s okay. It really is.”
“He’s gone for now,” he said and looked down at me. I forgot all about my doubts. I let go of the worry that this was like Rex Lynch all over again. This man was something different. He wasn’t like any other man I’d ever met.
He was the only man who’d had this effect on my body, my soul, and sometimes my temper. He leaned down and kissed the side of my jaw where Dirt had hit me. It was tender, but minor. I pressed my face toward his kiss.
He his kisses traveled to my temple, my forehead, and to the brow, still covered in a small bandage from my last calamity. We were in the pitch dark. The only sound was the rustle of leaves on the trees. We were alone, together, and both still reeling from the encounter in the restaurant parking lot.
I surrendered to the delicious feel of his lips on my face. His stubble left every cell it touched alive and tingling. Hammer’s hands slipped underneath the t-shirt I wore and slowly pulled the fabric of my bra away from my skin. His hands were now under my clothes and on my flesh. A sigh escaped my lips. Hammer slid his hand from my nipples to the front of the shorts I wore as part of my uniform for The Marine Lounge. He slid his hand between the panties and my mound. My eyes flew wide open when I really understood where he was going with his fingers. My God!
I felt his palm on me and his fingers dipping inside of me. I might have collapsed under legs that were feeling more and more like noodles, except he held me with his other arm around my back and waist. He supported me while I shamelessly undulated my hips against his hand.
“You’re so fucking tight.” As he said the dirty words, I was shocked at how much it affected me. I wanted more from him. I wanted him to take me, here, outside, now. And I said it.
“Please, oh, please.” Hammer unzipped his jeans before I finished asking. Though I would have begged him I was so turned on.
“Hold on baby, hold on,” Hammer whispered as pulled my shorts and undies off in one swoop. God, we were out in the open – well, in the woods – but still, the idea that we were so exposed shocked me. I was shocking me! We had, not five minutes ago, been running for our lives, and now this. I was on a roller coaster.
Hammer ripped the rest of my clothes from my body. He pulled my shirt over my head. My bra had to be in tatters. And I was nude, again, under his hands. At his mercy. It was thrilling me in ways I didn’t know I wanted to be thrilled. He was igniting wild sexual desire that no one else ever had.
Hammer turned me around, the bike was in front of me now, and I bent over it to steady myself. The cold of the metal, the leather of the seat, and Hammer’s hands on my hips; all of it was insane. I felt his hard length impale me from behind, and I gasped at the difference this made. How many ways would he have me? I hoped every way.
He held my hips with his powerful hands and thrust inside of me. My feet left the ground with each stroke, and I had only the bike to keep me from toppling over. My body was trapped between the Harley and Hammer.
“Hammer, more, more.” I had no idea where that came from, except that I wanted him to split me open, envelope me in his masculinity, consume my need and his.
I’d thought he’d been passionate and out of control before, but now, at my words, it turned into something else. Hammer whirled me around. He picked me up and then lay me down on the grass. It was gentle. I didn’t feel scratched or bruised or hurt. But once I was there, on the ground, naked, he was on top of me. In this moment he was more beast than man.
He sucked at my neck as his cock found me again, from the front this time. He pounded me hard, mercilessly, over and over. It was pain and pleasure in the perfect proportion. It was our souls and bodies forgetting about where we were when we were, and connecting, and then exploding into a million little stars.
We were both spent, and I was a little stunned, at the intensity of what just passed between us. I held on to Hammer, and he sheltered my body with his.
“Shit,” he said as he softly kissed my earlobe, and stroked the length of me from rib to hip.
“What?”
“I am fucking in love with you,” he said and pressed his lips to mine.
“Shit,” I whispered between kisses.
He lifted his head and looked at me.
“What?”
“I’m feeling like there’s a stick jabbing into my shoulder.” Hammer moved off me and rolled me up to his lap.
“And I am fucking in love with you too,” I said and kissed him.
We sat this way, on the forest floor, for a few minutes more.
“I’m sorry. I uh, lost control,” he said and pulled me tighter to his lap.
“I wanted you too, and sorry for what? More like I should thank you.”
“For having my way with you in the damn woods, seconds after that asshole tried to hurt you. It’s shitty,” he said to me. It was too dark now to see his expression.
“Did you mean it, you love me?”
“Dammit, yes,” he said, and I knew what he meant. This was a whole new thing, this loving someone the way it felt like we did for each other. We were in an unsure, scary, totally out of control situation, between us, and because of Lynch. Yet here we were.
“Then take me, when you want me, and don’t hold back. I loved it, and you too.”
Hammer kissed me softly.
“Now can we find my bra. I’m pretty sure chipmunk ran off with it.”
We laughed together, quietly, and despite the total chaos that our choices had caused.
Fifteen
HAMMER
Daniella was dressed and on the back of my bike again.
“I have to make a call before we hit the road,” I told her.
“Sure.”
Steel answered on the first ring.
“What the actual fuck is happening? You had me worried sick. You need to stop the lone wolf shit and stay put. I’m coming.”
“No, don’t. I am not bringing her back to the Hawks. I don’t know what Lynch would do to her, but I’m not going to risk it.”
“This is fucked up. We had another meeting with Lynch. He lost his shit. He took a swing at Sawyer. Man, they see this as a major beef. Just come back. They know you have her. Get her back here, and we’ll sort it out.”
“No.”
“Look, let me plead your case to Sawyer. He’s not insane, you know that. He doesn’t want anyone hurt.”
“I know. That’s why I’m letting you all off the hook. I’ve decided, and you need to be far away from it. I love her, man. It is what it is, and I’m not letting anyone get their hands on her.”
“Jesus, Hammer, we could have two club wars.”
“Tell ‘em I’m out, take my patch, whatever.”
“Brother, no.”
“Tell Sawyer I’m sorry.” I ended the call with Steel still trying to persuade me to come in with Daniella.
“Hammer, what did all that mean?” Daniella asked with concern in her voice.
“It means you and I are rogue, baby.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder. I started the engine, and we slid back out on 31.
Putting distance Daniella and Petoskey was the first priority. I’d lost Dirt, but it was time to disappear – really disappear – so he didn’t grab our trail.
The only stops we needed to make were for gas. I told Daniella we needed to be fast, and quiet, everywhere we went.
We were gassing up at a highway exit, closing on 2 a.m., when my phone buzzed.
I didn’t want to answer it. I didn’t want to put my club in this any more than I had already.
But I picked up the call.
“Steel, we’ve been through this.”
“It’s Sawyer.”
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Your old lady okay? I mean I’m assuming she’s your old lady if you’re willing to turn in your patch over it.”
“She’s important.” As I said it, I kept my eye on Daniella. She was in the gas station, buying a few things, including a sweatshirt. We were riding in Upper Michigan in May. This place was cold at night. I didn’t think there was a way in hell that the Hawks would find us here, but I was also getting fucking paranoid. It was a survival skill.
“Look, you’re not patching out. But I’m going to tell the Hawks you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pissed you fucked up this little deal, but I’m mostly pissed at myself.”
“Why?”
“You were right. I should have known that there would be more to the story than what Lynch was telling us. This woman, this Daniella, she’s good people?”
“Yes, the best kind of person.”
“Well, then I don’t want Lynch anywhere near her either. But for now, to stop a club war in two directions, I’m denouncing you, publicly.” Even though I deserved it, it still hurt to hear.
“You have to.”
“But that’s just for the outside world, not for you and me. But Hammer, everyone in the club but me is going to think it’s real. They have to, or you and the club don’t stand a fucking chance.”
“I got it.”
“I want you to go to the cottage. Stay there. Keep your head down. I’m going to drag you through the mud, and I need you out of the picture.”
“Sawyer, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. She’s one lucky lady that it was you who showed up to fetch her.”
“Yeah, well, I think it’s the opposite, but thanks Couz.”
“Stay alert. Cottage keys are in Grandma’s rock.”
“Yep.”
“And pull some weeds. It was looking like a jungle last time I was there. Though it’s been a few years.”
“Will do, I’m burning this phone.”
“That’s my boy.”
We hung up as Daniella walked up to the bike. The tank was full, we had a place to go, and she now might be warm enough. Sporting a sweatshirt with the Cheybogan Chief’s “C” in the center, at least she wouldn’t freeze to death when we crossed the Mackinac Bridge.
“I got a place we can hide, for a while anyway. You like camping?”
“Like with a tent?”
“No, with a cottage, but still camping. Not much in the cottage but a few bedrooms and a stove.”
“Never been camping in my whole life, so we’ll see if I like it!” I felt her arms squeeze me around the middle. She was so cute it had to be fucking illegal.
I revved the engine. We had a ride ahead of us. I’d snaked back east and west on the back roads before I had a definite plan. Now, we needed to get to I-75 and head straight north. We’d be crossing the Mackinac Bridge, a five-mile stretch over Lake Michigan that separated the Lower Peninsula from the Uppe
r. After we crossed, we’d have another hour west to get to the cottage on Lake Michigan. The McCall family had owned it since the 1940s before there was a bridge. My grandma said they used a ferry to get there back then. The cottage was remote, hard to get to, and a secret.
In a world of Air BnBs, only McCalls knew it existed or were allowed to stay there.
I’d be far away from Lynch, but also far away from my own brothers. That part sucked. That part put a twinge of pain in my chest, leaving my brothers. But I didn’t want them caught up in this anymore. I had made a choice to defy the orders of The Great Wolves M.C. I had also probably caused more shit for them.
As far as they knew, Sawyer was pissed and hated my guts. He would tell the M.C. that I had made my choice. That I had defied the club. I knew it had to be this way but thinking about it hurt.
I was a Marine, and then a Great Wolf. It was in my blood to put the brotherhood above everything else. Even my own life.
But that was before Daniella. She was everything now. I felt like she was why I was put on this earth and no man, hawk, or wolf, could come between us. I wouldn’t let them.
I let the pressure of her against my back remind me why I had done what I’d done. I told myself it was a choice, but it wasn’t. The second I met her, the path was chosen for me. I had no choice really. To protect her was a part of me, like my own blood.
It was still before dawn when we got to the McCall Cottage. It was hard to see anything except the jungle of overgrown bushes, trees, and vines growing around the place that Sawyer talked about. The McCall Cottage was at the end of a long gravel drive that you couldn’t really make out unless you knew exactly what pine tree marked the entrance. Tree branches snapped across my face as we made our way to the house.
The long drive was worth it though, as the cabin sat squarely on Lake Michigan. It even had a small sandy beach, which was great if the waves or the wind weren’t too wicked. It really was perfect swimming weather about two months a year, July and August. Its remoteness made it perfect for us to hide, but not great if you wanted a summer of easy, hotel room service comfort. This place was truly a cottage, a step or two above camping, but not more than that.