Hammered: A Shadows of Chicago Novel

by Rose Hudson

  I hold up my hands in surrender.

  “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

  His outburst spurs a little bit of my reserved anger.

  “And for your information, just because you’ve been inside my apartment and me, doesn’t mean shit. People aren’t always as they seem.” I don’t even wait for him, I head toward the sign that says ‘Showers’.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You check the men’s, I’ll check the women’s.”

  I seethe quietly as I walk from shower to shower, checking for occupants and caught up in my thoughts. I’m not sure if it’s the chip on his shoulder or the fact that my views may be a little outdated that pisses me off. Do I really think Stone is capable of doing what Damon did to Madison? No. I don’t think I’ve really thought that since I found out he was a fighter. But what I do think is that I can’t take the chance.

  It’s not just about my safety or my schedule or my wants anymore.

  I flip off the shower lights, walking to the back of the room to the changing area where rows of lockers create a sort of maze throughout the room. When I round the corner headed back to the door, I run right into a hard wall of muscled chest. A small squeal leaves my chest.

  “Holy shit, Stone. What the hell?”

  The sudden shock of fear leaves me immobile for seconds, but God, it feels like minutes. He smells good, like soap and sweat. I remember that smell as I lowered to my knees in the hotel and put my mouth on…oh hell no you don’t.

  I pull away quickly, heading around him. He grabs my wrist, pulling me back.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He presses me against the block wall behind us. “I wanna do a lot of things to you, but scaring you isn’t one of them.” Oh God.

  My heart still beats a mile a minute, but I don’t think it’s from him scaring me anymore. I’ve never denied what he does to me. He tilts my chin up so I must look at him.

  “Are you scared of me, Lydia?”

  I swallow, nostrils flaring and only managing to pull more of his smell into my space, intoxicating me and weakening my resolve.

  “Are you going to take me home or do I need to call a cab?” Avoid, avoid, avoid. All I hear around us is the drip of water from the dark shower room. If he wanted to hurt me he could, and if I wanted to lie, I’d say I didn’t want him to. His kind of pain makes me feel good.

  As if reading my mind, his hand falls from the wall to my hip. His thumb pressing my hipbone and his fingers digging through the thin material of my slacks and deliciously into the meat of my ass.

  “Answer the fucking question,” he says low, voice still without the disturbance of emotion. I want him to squeeze harder, so I refrain from answering again, but he doesn’t give me what I want. He lets go and backs away. “Let’s go.” He heads toward the door, not caring to wait for me in the dark room and leaving me breathless at his abrupt absence. What the hell is wrong with me? I can only imagine what I look like; back arched, breasts out, chest heaving like a panting dog on a July day.

  I have to quick-step just to catch up to him as we walk across the training room and to the front door. He opens the door and holds it open without looking at me. I’m suddenly pissed. At how both of us are acting.

  I grab my coat from the rack and slip it on as I step out onto the sidewalk. He clicks the key fob in his hand and his truck lights blink rapidly as he locks the front door to the gym.

  “Get in,” he instructs.

  Screw him and the way my body wants to give in to his hands, when my brain—my educated, informed brain, screams at me every time I’m near him. Trying my best to keep from looking like a five-year-old stomping out of the room, I grit my teeth and walk to the passenger side of Stone’s truck and climb inside.

  When he climbs in, I expect him to make some smartass comment or slam the door, make me feel uncomfortable, but he doesn’t. He stays silent the entire twelve blocks to my apartment. Just when I think I know what to expect, he changes direction and makes my head foggy. We slow to a stop and I brace myself for the departure, feeling unsatisfied and disappointed. But even more, I think about everything that’s about to change in my life and how this may be the last time he and I are alone.

  “Thanks for bringing me home.”

  When he looks over at me, I see the mixed emotions swimming there. This thing between us was supposed to be purely sexual, and now words have been thrown around and feelings have gotten involved.

  True to form, I’m over-thinking and he’s probably just sitting here waiting on me to get the hell out of his truck. I wish I could just get out without a word, not care whether I see him again in this way or not, but I know that I owe him at least my words.

  I open the door and begin to ease out. Unable to look at him, hating myself for the way I feel, I answer his question. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of what you’re capable of—what you’re capable of doing to me. But mostly I’m scared of how much my body likes your pain, and that you knew I needed it before I did.”

  BRUNO WAS ALL TOO HAPPY to get out of the house this morning. Although it’s cold as fuck and my face is frozen, I’m happy to be out here too. I don’t get him out near as much in the cold months as I should.

  “Come on, boy.”

  We jog through the tree-lined path, a few other joggers passing us on the opposite side. When we round a corner, I’m surprised, but also not, to see Lydia jogging in front of us. That ass. Makes the weeks since our weekend together feel like fucking torture. Her mouth balances out my need to fuck her, though.

  Bruno runs ahead of me, his long jogging leash stretching to its limit as he sidles up to Lydia. For a second they just run beside each other, and then she notices him and grins down. But as soon as she looks back to identify his owner, her smile fades. She slows to a stop.

  “Really? Now you’re bringing your dog for protection? I only use the gun if it’s necessary,” she smarts off. She reaches down and pats Bruno and of course the bastard loves it, licking and nearly knocking her over as she kneels to him.

  “Yeah, some guard dog. Doesn’t even know evil when it’s right in front of him.” I press my lips together to keep from grinning and she shoots me a nasty look.

  “Ha-ha. He seems in need of attention. Do you beat him like you do humans?” She stands as I come to stand by her and Bruno. I place my hand on my chest like she shot me.

  “Straight to the heart.” I look at her for a minute, then stick out my hand to her. “Truce?”

  She looks down at it like it’s a fucking piranha.

  “Surely, we’ve busted each other’s balls enough, don’t you think?”

  She stands a little taller before slowly lifting her hand, eyes coming up to meet mine, full of determination.

  “I’m not sure I can promise I won’t bust your balls anymore, but sure, we can call a truce.” She shakes my hand and I hold on for a fraction of a second when she goes to pull it away. The wind blows little tendrils of hair around her face, one getting caught between her lips. I stare at her mouth where she licks, pulling the hair free with her fingers. My eyes flick up to hers and there’s a desire reflected there. I know she wants to hate me, but there’s a tie that binds us, one that’s rubbed her raw from trying to escape.

  “Do you run here every day?” I ask her.

  “I used to. Just started back recently, so I’m kind of working my way back into a routine. Keeps me from getting too sore if I take it slow.” Take it slow, huh? Yeah, I went there. I’m walking a fine line of torture with this woman; from wanting to throttle her, to wanting to throttle her.

  “In that case, I don’t see why we can’t run together. I usually come every morning, bring Bruno.”

  She reaches down and pets him at the mention of his name. Lucky bastard. She seems to consider my proposal, looking from me back to Bruno. “I don’t know. I think you boys should prove yourself before I make any deals.” She pulls her knees up to her chest one at a time, then her arms. I chuckle.


  “We wouldn’t want to hold you up or anything.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, everything that happens next, plays out in slow motion.

  Bruno takes off after another dog passing by on a leash with their owner. When he does, his leash somehow wraps around Lydia’s ankle and jerks her legs out from under her. I try to reach for her, and she tries to keep her balance and land on her feet, rolling her ankle instead.

  “Damn, are you okay?” I jerk Bruno’s leash. “Bruno sit. Now.”

  “I think it’s okay. I just landed on it wrong.” She tries to play it off. But when I go to help her up and she applies pressure on it, she collapses back to the sidewalk. “Shit. I’m not sure. I may have to sit for a minute.”

  I loop one arm under her legs and the other around her middle, picking her up. Instead of protesting like I expect, she throws her arm around my neck and holds on as I carry her to a bench.

  “Here, you sit and let me look at it.” I set her on the bench, quickly pulling Bruno’s leash from my arm and tying it around the bench leg.

  “So, you’re a doctor, too?” she teases.

  “I’ve learned my share of fixes for small injuries. Can you move it? Turn your foot side to side.”

  She looks down at me where I kneel by her foot propped on my knee. “It hurts like hell when I try.” She moves it fractionally from the left to the right. I untie her shoe and pull it and her sock from her foot.

  “Your ankle is already starting to swell. I don’t think it’s broke, but you need to have it x-rayed to be sure.”

  “Great.” She releases a heavy breath. “I guess I’ll just call a cab. Do you see a path marker that I can give them?”

  “Just get on my back. I’ll take you to my truck and then we’ll go to the ER.”

  “It’s really not a big deal, I can call—”

  “Get on my back, Lydia or I’m just going to carry you like a fucking baby.”

  I know she wants to argue further, but she doesn’t. She pulls me closer and wraps her arm around my neck, and her legs around my waist as I stand, pulling Bruno’s leash with me.

  “Where is your truck?”

  “Half a mile back.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re going to have to carry my ass a half mile?”

  Knowing she’s immobile and because I’m a dick, I reach around and grab her ass with both hands.

  “Now I’m carrying your ass.”

  “I hope your back kills you tomorrow.”

  I WOULDN’T HAVE THOUGHT THE ER would be so packed on a weekday morning, but I guess in the third largest metropolis in the U.S., emergency rooms must have a constant flow of bodies. Accidents, illness, crime related injuries; we see it all as we take our seats in the waiting room, me still on Stone’s back like an idiot.

  I’m sure I could walk on it. Certain of it. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting anyone else other than myself. I know I said I hoped his back would hurt tomorrow, but I was just giving him hell. If he gets down on his back from carrying me I would feel bad about it. But Mr. Bossy Pants insisted that if it is fractured or broken, I could cause further damage by walking on it.

  We find a couple of seats in the back corner, mostly away from anyone hacking up a lung or bleeding from anywhere. When Stone sits in the chair beside me, I notice the way the muscle in his jaw flexes.

  “I told you your back would hurt. Hell, you probably need to be seen worse than I do now.”

  “Are you trying to emasculate me completely? You weigh what? One-twenty? One-twenty-five?”

  “One-thirty.” I stick my tongue out at him, grabbing a magazine from the table in front of us. “Between the lakefront and the parking lot, you probably carried me two miles.”

  “I’d say we’re even.”

  “Even?”

  “I got to squeeze that ass the whole way. So, who’s the real winner here?”

  “Yeah, well, I bet your forehead’s gonna have a bruise from how many times I smacked you, too.”

  “Worth it.”

  I roll my eyes at him, thumbing through the home improvement magazine in my lap, making a mental note to pick up some paint for the guest bedroom turned nursery. Or soon to be anyway.

  “You know you don’t have to stay, right? I can take a cab or call my parents or something.”

  He shakes his head.

  “What about Bruno? Don’t you need to take him home?”

  “Thorn has a key to my truck. I messaged him before we left Lake Shore, so he’s probably already been by to get him.”

  I look at him, eyes knowing but not in the mood to argue. Around us everyone is quiet, watching the television or sleeping, but I feel the need to fill the silence.

  “As much as I’m at the hospital, I should get like a VIP pass that sends me straight backs.”

  “So, it wasn’t Bruno’s fault? You’re clumsy like this all the time?” he smirks, one eyebrow raised.

  I shake my head. His expression changes and I feel a small pang of sadness that I quickly shake off. I don’t talk to anyone about Madi. In fact, I can only think of a handful of people outside of our parents that I’ve ever talked to about her situation. But I want to tell him.

  “My best friend, Aston’s daughter, has been in the hospital for six months and I go see her just about every day. She’s in a coma and we don’t know yet if she will come out of it.”

  He sits forward, elbows on his knees and eyes cautious and curious. “What happened to her?”

  I think about that night because I’ve never really had to tell this story again after talking to the police. Aston and Liz never wanted all the details because the ones they read in the police report were more than enough.

  “Well, do you want the long or short version?” I give a half-hearted smile, trying to lighten the mood of what I’m about to say. He looks around the waiting area.

  “We’ve got time for whatever you want to tell me.”

  I nod slowly, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “Madison wanted to go out and celebrate me passing the bar exam, but before we left, her boyfriend, Damon, showed up, and per usual, he and I got into an argument. I’d just had enough of him and the way he treated her and I couldn’t take his bullshit control tactics anymore. I gave her a shitty ultimatum, told her if she stayed with him, she was going to lose me. When she didn’t answer, I lost it, screamed at them both, telling them they deserved each other. Then I stormed out of her apartment on the third floor and went up to mine.” I look away, pain beginning to creep into my features. I pick at my nails, emotions growing thick and making it impossible to look at him.

  “When you’re friends with someone, basically sisters from birth, you have your share of disagreements. But the longer I sat in my apartment, the more different this one felt. After twenty, thirty minutes, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I headed back down and in the elevator, this sort of urgency set in. I tried to run when the doors opened, but it was like there were lead weights tied to my ankles. Until I saw the door to her apartment was cracked open, then I knew. I knew why I’d had this sick feeling in my stomach all those months they’d been dating, why my skin would crawl when he was in the room, and why I wanted her as far away from him as possible.” I look up at Stone, his posture full of unease. I consider stopping, but I’ve already gone too far, now.

  “There was so much blood. You couldn’t even see her face. Her blond hair was bright red and clung to her everywhere. I stood there in shock until she made a sound in the back of her throat that told me she was still alive. After I called for help, everything happened in a blur.”

  “God, Lydia. That’s—” He cuts himself off, rubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t know what to say. That’s shit nobody should ever have to see. But if it hadn’t been for your quick action, she wouldn’t have a fighting chance.”

  A tear falls down my cheek and he reaches out to capture it with his thumb.

  “Yeah, well, maybe if I’d acted months before, or stayed that night
and kept my mouth shut and just dealt with the fact that she was with him and there was nothing I could do about it, maybe things wouldn’t have gone down like that.”

  “With someone capable of that, it wouldn’t have mattered. Even if you got her away from him, odds are he would’ve found a way.”

  “Are you capable of that?”

  As much as some people would feel like an asshole for asking this, I don’t. I can’t help that this entire experience has shaped the way I view people who get thrills out of violent acts. I don’t fear him, and I may even go as far as to say that safety isn’t an issue when I’m around him. But if he’s capable of beating a grown man with his bare hands, then who’s to say he couldn’t do the same to me? Madison wanted Damon enough to date him for months, to allow herself to become pregnant with his child. So, is it not safe to assume that she was sharing a bed with a man she didn’t know? A man who had fooled her?

  “Never. Do you ask that question to everyone?” His eyes relay pained curiosity. I’m sure he wants to know if I only ask him this question. Honesty is the best policy.

  “No. I should’ve asked Damon, but I’ll have to settle for starting with you.”

  “Why would you loop Damon and me into the same category?”

  “Because he was a fighter just like you—in the underground.”

  Silence falls between us, his eyes narrowing in confusion, yet understanding, momentarily processing what I’ve said. But when he speaks, his words sound like the crack of a whip.

  “Ah, well, that makes perfect sense. That’s about like expecting one of these doctors to kill you because Kevorkian was a doctor. Sounds legit, right?”

  My eyes narrow at his knee-jerk response to my concerns.

  “Lydia Norberg?” a nurse calls me back and I feel the leaden weight of our unspoken words between Stone and I. I go to stand and walk back, but he moves quickly in front of me, waiting silently for me to climb on, and I do.

  Being able to walk out of the hospital in an air cast is a welcome relief. Of course, the only thing I could think about while I was in the ER was the words left hanging between us and the fact that neither of us attempted to say anything to persuade or comfort the other.