Breaking Hammer (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Inferno Motorcycle Club Book 3) (17 page)

He stood in front of me
- the fighter.  The man who’d run into me in the casino, held me in his arms.  The one who'd delivered the beating in the fight, that took my breath away, kept me on the edge of my seat, my hands clenched tightly as I watched him fight the way a man fought when he didn't care whether or not he lived or died.

Even when I'd seen him in the casino the first time, in slacks and a collared shirt, he was rough, there was no doubt in my mind about that.
 His business clothes, the ones that hung on him like the most ill-fitting garments in the world.  They didn't suit him.  He was cut from a different cloth.

He was out of place there in the warehouse, too.
 I recognized the drive, the intensity I saw there, the darkness in him.  But whatever was driving him, it was a compulsion, something that didn't quite seem to fit him even though he was obviously skilled at it.

Now, he stood in front of me, dressed the way he was that first time in the casino, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up on his forearms, revealing the expanse of tattoos that covered the length of his arms.
 I briefly wondered what he might look like completely out of the dress clothes, then put the thought immediately out of my mind.  This was not the type of man I needed to wonder about naked, this man with the darkness in his eyes.

"You," he said.
 If his words had not, his expression would have betrayed his surprise.  He did not appear easily able to hide his emotions.

"Me."
 I opened the door wider, not bothering to hide the smile that played at the corners of my mouth.  I wasn't sure why it made me happy to see him here.  I didn't need him here.  I didn't need any complications in my life, not now.

He cleared his throat, and the look on his face passed, a more professional demeanor taking over.
 "I'm here to do the software installation.  I'm Joe.  Joe Holder.”

"They called you Hammer at the fight," I said.
 "I heard them."

He looked down at the ground, his head low, almost as if he was
embarrassed by the name.  "Yes," he said.  "It's what they call me."

“I'm Meia," I said
.  "Come in."  I gestured to the open expanse of room, and he walked inside.  I saw him try to keep his gaze from wandering over the suite.  It was hard not to look; it was impressive, even to someone like me who was jaded from being around money so long now.

"Wow."

"Yes," I said.  "It's...something."

I watched as a puzzled look came over his face.
 "Are you the...owner?"

I shook my head.
 "No.  That honor belongs to Aston."

"I met him," Joe said.
 Joe.  This man standing here before me, this man in the ill-fitting shirt, was definitely not suited to be called Joe.  The name Hammer, even if it was only a fighter nickname, fit him much better.  It seemed to fit with who he was, with how dangerous and explosive he might be.

"Yes," I said.
 "He was displeased that you couldn't be bought."

"I get the feeling that he's used to being able to buy everything he wants."
 Hammer looked at me, his eyes intent, his gaze focused on me.  For or a moment, I thought that what he was saying might be an accusation of some kind, an indictment of my willingness to be for sale.  But then his face flushed, red rising to his cheeks, and I realized that he was embarrassed.  The thought made me feel good about him somehow, as if someone who would be embarrassed by the potential misstep like that couldn't be entirely bad.

"Not everything," I said.
 "Even if it might seem like he can."

Hammer opened his mouth to say some something, then closed it again.
 He shook his head.  "I just need to see where your computer is," he said.  When his eyes locked with mine, I felt heat flood my core, and then a flash of embarrassment at the sensation.

"Follow me."
 I led him to Aston's office and watched him as he began to open his briefcase.

"I just need
to attach this drive and upload the software real quick."  He paused when I didn't move, and his face flushed again.  Did he think I was standing here, watching him work in Aston's office, intentionally treating him like the help?  A man like him would find that insulting, I knew that.

A man like him.
 I didn't know what kind of man he was.  I had the sudden impulse to tell him what I wanted to say a moment ago, that I could not in fact be bought.  I wanted to tell him that the reason I was here with Aston was for a greater purpose, a purpose bigger than myself.  I had never felt shame about what I had done in the past.  Guilt, yes – but shame, no.  I had not chosen this life.  I had been forced into it.  And the men who did that were responsible for the monster I had become.

But standing there in front of him, hearing him intimate that I had been bought by Aston, in that moment I felt shame.
 In that moment, I felt regret.  This man, the one I knew nothing about, had the ability to make me feel that way.

That was disturbing to me.

I watched as he pulled equipment from his briefcase and busied himself with it.  "Do you live here?" he asked, bending toward the computer, his back turned toward me.

"Now and then," I said.

He looked up, his brow furrowed.  "What's that mean?"

"I don't live here full time," I said.
 "Sometimes I stay here."

"With Aston," he said.

"Yes."

"So you're
with
him," he said.

"It's complicated," I said.
 
Not by choice,
I wanted to scream.  What the hell was I doing, lingering in the doorway, talking to this man as if he was any other guy?  As if I were not possessed by Aston.  As if I was not one of Aston’s belongings.

And if there was anything Aston cared about, it was that his belongings were his and his alone.
 It would not be good when he found me talking to Hammer.  And I could not afford to make Aston angry.

"The marks on your arms before," Hammer said.
 "Did he do that to you?"

"It's complicated," I said.
 Hammer was silent, busy with his computer, but I suspected he was paying more attention to me than he let on.  "If you need something, let me know."

“I’m finished.”
 I looked up from my book to see him standing in front of me, his expression unreadable.  "Do you know if Aston will be back soon?  I'll need to show him how to work some of this."

I stood, smoothing my slacks.
 “He should have been back by now.  He should be here any minute.  Do you - want a drink or something?”  I didn't know why was asking him to stay for a drink, I just knew that there was a part of me if that didn't want to see him leave.  There was another part of me that knew how it would look if Aston came home now, to see him here alone in the penthouse with me, talking casually, having a drink.  He would be livid.

Hammer hesitated, then shook his head.
 “I shouldn’t,” he said.

Shouldn’t drink or shouldn’t stay?
 I wanted to ask, but didn’t.  Shouldn’t drink was probably the right choice for someone who looked as haggard as he did.  He looked like he hadn’t slept in ages.  I found myself wondering why.

He opened his bag, balanced it on the edge of the sofa.
 “I’ll give you my card.  If you need anything - and I mean anything - no matter the time of day, just let me know."  He paused.  Whatever he's got over you, whatever's keeping you here, it's not worth it.”

I didn't speak, even though I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that he couldn't possibly understand the complexity of my situation.
 There was no way he could appreciate the fact that I was here with Aston because I was being blackmailed.  He wouldn't understand how it felt to lose a child.

Hammer pulled out a portfolio, holding his case on the edge of the sofa using his hip.

And then, just like that, his portfolio slipped, crashing onto the floor, the papers flying out in a rush across the hardwood floors.

“Fuck,” Hammer muttered, only half under his breath as he bent over to pick them up.
 I squatted down on the floor, reaching for papers and picked up a photo of him and a woman.

My eyes met his, and a pained expression crossed his face.
 Before I could say anything, he pulled the photo from my hands, without a word.  His hand brushed mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity pass between us, something I’d never felt with anyone before.  He paused for what seemed like an eternity, his hand still touching mine, but was probably really only a moment, his eyes locked on mine.  It was one of those moments when time seemed to stand still.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed, and I felt him pull his hand back, slipping the photo back into his portfolio.
 “Thanks,” he said abruptly.

We stood at the same time, inches away from each other.

“The photo-” I started.  It was none of my business.  Especially since I recognized that look, the pain behind his eyes.

Hammer cleared his throat.
 “My wife,” he said.

He was married.
 Why was I suddenly disappointed at that thought?  There was nothing between us.  We had spoken no more than a handful of words.  He was nothing to me.

I looked at him for a long moment.
 “Your wife,” I parroted stupidly.

“She - she’s dead,” he said, and I heard his voice crack.
 The sound triggered a rush of empathy and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I’m sorry.”
 I wished I could say more, that I could say I understood.  But it was impossible to understand someone else’s pain, only your own.  I could see it, though.  He wore his loss like a coat, cloaking him in it like some kind of shroud.  He carried it with him, the heaviness apparent.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at me.
 Finally he spoke.  “It’s life,” he said.

“The loss of a great love can be
unbearable," I said.  "It eats away at your soul.”

"Who have you lost?" He asked the question softly, sadly.

"I -" I started.  I had lost the two people in the world about whom I cared the most.  I couldn't speak the words.  But I didn’t have to explain anything since I was cut off when the door opened.

“Meia, did that fucking computer nerd come and -” Aston stopped short when he saw Hammer.

I stepped back, suddenly aware of how close I’d been standing to Hammer.  “Aston.  This is Joe - I’m sorry, I can’t remember your last name.”

“Holder,” Hammer said, his eyes narr
owing when he looked at Aston.

“
You?
  What the fuck is going on here?” Aston asked.  I recognized the familiar flush on his cheeks, the dilated pupils.  That was more and more common lately.  I took a deep breath and reminded myself what all of this was for.  
Who
all of this was for.

"Mr. Holder was leaving you his card.”
 I spoke the words slowly, through gritted teeth, already on edge.

"I'm the fucking computer nerd," Hammer said, his expression dark.

“And what were you doing?” Aston stepped forward, pulled me roughly by the wrist, his grip tight.  “Spreading your legs for him?”

I tried to pull my arm from him but his grip was too tight.

And then Hammer intervened, positioning himself so that his body was wedged in between Aston and I.  He didn't lay a hand on Aston or me, didn't need to.  He just used the threat of his presence.  "Get your fucking hands off her," Hammer said.

I smiled, the expression barely concealing my hatred of Aston.
 "Thank you for your help, Mr. Holder," I said.  “If you would just leave us your business card, perhaps Aston could call you if he has any questions."

But Hammer didn't move, instead standing there protectively.
 I watched in disbelief as Aston stepped back from him.  I'd never seen him concede to anyone before.

"Would you like to leave?"
 Hammer asked.  I could see his eyes, imploring me to leave, to not stay with a man like Aston.  He didn't understand the whole story.