She was nearly frantic with worry, concerned for herself, but even more so for Hammer. He was out there, facing down a madman with a gun who was bent on their destruction, trying to protect her. She’d started to call the police three times, but each time she stopped before completing the call. She was torn between her worry for Hammer and the fear that if Robert got away, they’d never have peace.
She willed her tears away again. Everything had been so wonderful. The shootings at home had stopped, and she had found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. They had spent a blissful week alone, almost as if they were the last two people on earth, seeing other people only when they went into town for supplies.
Lily sniffed and wiped her eyes in frustration and anger. He’d said he loved her, and she had seen the truth in his dark, warm eyes. And now Robert fucking McBride had turned up and ruined it all. If he hurt Hammer, it would be her life mission to track that asshole down and see that he paid. Her tears faded as her rage again swelled within her, and she tightened her grip on her weapon.
“Come on you bastard,” she whispered, glaring at the door, daring Robert to open it. If he did, her justice would be swift, harsh and final.
###
Hammer continued to sweep the area where Robert had to be, his gaze always traveling, trying to catch even the slightest hint of movement. The human eye was attracted to movement, which is why he’d become still himself. Until Robert moved, he wasn’t likely to see him, and he might not see him even then. This was very much Robert’s game and Hammer was very aware he was severely outclassed. Robert was the cat, and he was the mouse.
If he’d been thinking, he’d have told Lily to wait an hour, then call the cops. That might have flushed Robert, and maybe he could have taken him then. He’d probably go to prison, but that was a price he was willing to pay to protect Lily. Or, if Robert was dug in and undercover, he might just have waited them out. There were no sure winning moves in this most deadly of games.
Hammer smiled as he thought of Lily. She loved him. He’d seen hints, the way she would sometimes look at him, the softness of her smile, but he hadn’t been sure. He’s always been a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, and didn’t know what to expect from a relationship. He didn’t know the right time to say I love you, and he’d been nervous.
His lips formed a thin line. He was willing to charge into the woods after a guy with a gun that was trying to kill him, but he’d been afraid to say those three little words… I love you. What a chickenshit he was. If they got out of this alive, not a day would pass without him saying it, without him telling her just how he felt.
He heard movement ahead and a little to his right, his gaze instinctively going toward the noise. It was probably nothing. The woods were alive with deer and squirrels. He watched, unblinking, his gaze never moving, as he tried to pick out what had made the sound.
###
Robert watched the cabin through his scope. Hammer wasn’t answering his calls anymore and had decided to stay inside. Probably to wait on the cops.
He grimaced in frustration. It had taken far too long to track them down. He’d spent days watching their homes and the police station, trying to pick one or the other up, but they never appeared again. Somehow they’d give him the slip.
It was that fucking Hammer, he just knew it. His gang had disappeared as well, and he was left holding his cock. He could feel them slowly tightening the noose. He’d abandoned his motel and started sleeping in his car, afraid that the cops or the Souls would find him. Finally, in desperation, he’d followed the old cop that was working with Donovan to his home.
It had been risky, but Robert was out of options. He’d spent a couple of days watching and then had burst in on them this morning during a birthday party. The old fart was tough, he would give him that. He’d beat Hunter to near unconsciousness, and he still wouldn’t tell him where Lily had gone. It wasn’t until he put his knife blade to the throat of youngest that he broke.
He’d duct taped the rest of the family’s hands, feet and mouths and tossed them into a bedroom, making sure everyone present knew that so long as Hunter wasn’t lying to him, everyone would be reunited safely in a few hours.
Once they were secured, he’d hustled Hunter and his grandson, Michael, out to the car. Taking them was a risk, but he needed insurance against Hunter lying to him, and the kid was leverage. He also didn’t trust Hunter to not be able to get away on the two-hour drive if he’d left him taped up at home. He’d walked them to the car, the knife in his hand a threat, then taped up Hunter and Michael’s hands and feet, before they had a nice drive to North Carolina.
Leaving Hunter bound in the car, he’d taken Michael and walked up the drive far enough to see Hammer’s pickup, then returned to his car. Hunter had been good to his word, Robert had driven several miles farther out into the boonies, cut their feet free, and tossed them out.
But now, Hammer was turtled up inside the cabin, and he was going to have to pry him out. If the cops showed up now, he would lose them again, and he didn’t want that.
He rose and began to circle around to the front of the house. The geography was all wrong, with the slope falling away from the house, but to try to go through the one door was suicide. Hammer was surely just inside, and the moment the doorknob turned, he’d probably open up. Robert was going to climb up onto the deck, if he could, or see if there was a tree he could scale. Not an ideal shooting platform, but in this close, he could make it work.
###
Hammer heard movement a little farther right, and his gaze quickly shifted toward the new sound. He stared but could see nothing. Then he saw it, a flicker of movement in the trees before the shape disappeared again. His gaze remained fixed, knowing if he looked away he’d lose it. Whatever it was, it was far too big to be a squirrel.
The outline moved again, and Hammer squinted. It could be a deer, but he wasn’t sure, so he continued to watch. The shadow moved one more time, and now he could tell it was a man. He snapped the rifle up but didn’t fire.
The man wasn’t that far away, maybe eight yards, but the angle was awkward, he was shaking with cold, and he was shooting at the man’s profile. He brought the rifle down and waited, tucking his hands under his arms and against his body for warmth. One or two more steps and Robert would be in a better place to take the shot.
He had him now, his outline painted against the thinning trees of the cabin clearing. Robert obviously didn’t know he was there or Hammer would be dead. He had to be patient, and more importantly, still and quiet.
Robert took another step, then another, moving silently. If Hammer hadn’t been so close, he would have never heard him. In fact, he only heard about one step in five or six, and he wondered how far Robert had come before he did hear him. The man moved like a wraith. Another step. Robert’s attention was totally focused on the cabin and with each step, his back became more and more exposed as he moved.
Hammer smiled as he ever so slowly and quietly drew his leg up, forming a modified tripod to help steady the rifle. Bracing on his knee, the gun’s strap wrapped around his arm, he drew a bead on Robert’s back and smoothly squeezed the trigger.
###
Lily jumped with the roar of gunfire, her hand coming up and covering her mouth. She gripped her face as she whimpered, fighting tears of terror, not knowing if the man she loved was dead or alive.
She wanted to fling the door open and run outside, to call to Hammer, the not knowing almost worse than dying. She sniffed as she bumped her head against the cabinet, mewling softly in fear. She pulled her hand from her mouth and hardened her resolve, bringing her weapon up and pointing it at the door, her eyes as hard as diamonds.
###
Robert went down, and Hammer ratcheted the lever on the Winchester, ejecting the spent shell and pumping a new one into the chamber. He waited a moment, to see if Robert would rise, but he didn’t. He brought the weapon down from his shoulder and slowly rose, his legs stiff
with cold, his gaze never leaving the spot where Robert had fallen.
Moving in a combat crouch, knees bent and his weapon at his shoulder, Hammer began to move toward where he’d seen Robert fall, the need for quiet now eliminated. He was certain he’d hit Robert, but whether he was mortally wounded or not remained to be seen. As he approached, Robert popped up on his knees, apparently unhurt and began to bring his rifle up.
Surprised he’d missed, Hammer fired again. He couldn’t miss at this range, and Robert tumbled back as his rifle flew from his hand. He worked the lever again, holding his position, then began to approach more carefully.
Again Robert rose, but this time he turned and ran away from him. Hammer was so surprised that Robert was moving he fired again, but his shot was rushed, and he missed. He quickly ratcheted the weapon and tracked Robert.
Another shot, and another miss.
“Fuck!” Hammer barked as he began to charge through the woods after Robert. Long range shots were Robert’s forte, not his, especially on a moving target, but he couldn’t see how he’d missed the first two times.
He saw Robert through an opening in the trees, and he stopped, planted, and fired. Robert went down again but after a moment he was back up and running.
Armor, Hammer’s mind screamed.
The .30-30 round would penetrate any normal body armor, but if Robert was wearing Type IV armor, the Carle armor he wore in combat to defeat military weapons fire, he could shoot him with the relatively low powered .30-30 round all day, and the embedded steel plates would protect Robert from mortal harm.
He had one more shot, and he would have to hit him somewhere other than the center of mass for the bullet to penetrate. That was going to require him to get in closer to have a chance. Carrying the gun in his hand, he charged through the trees after Robert, the limbs and branches slapping and tearing at his flesh.
Hammer chased Robert through the woods, scrambling and stumbling down the ridge. He was panting hard, and his face was stinging from a myriad of tiny scratches caused from his plunge through the thicket of the forest, but he was gaining on him.
Robert fell and Hammer put on a turn of speed, trying to close the distance. As Robert rose, Hammer stopped, planted his feet, and fired.
“Shit!” He’d been aiming for Robert’s head but had obviously missed. He chased after him again. His weapon expended, it was about to get caveman because he and Robert were down to rocks and clubs.
###
Lily whimpered again as a rifle barked a second time, then after a moment, a third. There were two more shots in succession then silence. She waited, her heart hammering in her chest, tears leaking from her eyes. She wiped at the tears with her hand, but her gaze never moved from the door. As the silence lengthened, she sniffed and chewed her lips, to keep herself from weeping, but kept her pistol pointed at the door and waited, wondering which man would come through the opening.
The rifle cracked again, and the silence returned. That was six shots—the number of shells in the carbine. If all the shots were Hammer’s, he was not defenseless. She sat, staring at the door, her thudding heart still loud in her ears, silently praying for Hammer and his safe return.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Robert reached the bubbling, rocky, stream that marked the edge of the property, he stopped and turned. Hammer was a decade younger, and faster, and had nearly run him down. Robert was out of breath and spent from his sprint over rough ground, and decided his only option now was to fight.
“Come on!” he shouted as a challenge to Grimes.
Hammer skidded to a stop, flipped the Winchester over and grabbed it by the barrel before swinging it like a bat, intending to cave Robert’s head in. Robert ducked under the swing then charged into Hammer, driving his shoulder into Hammer’s gut and plowing him into the ground.
Hammer felt like his spine shattered when he hit the ground, losing the rifle and screaming as pain radiated out from the rock that was trying to crush his backbone. With the strength of pain and desperation, he heaved Robert off of him, the two men rolling over as they grappled, their hands clawing at each other’s eyes and their faces twisted in grimaces of pain and effort.
Robert began to dig his thumbs into Hammer’s eyes, and Hammer threw himself off before Robert could inflict serious damage. The two men scrambled to their feet and slowly began to circle, looking for an opening. Hammer thought about going for his knife, but that would open him up for an attack, and it wouldn’t penetrate the steel plates of the ballistic vest anyway. It was little more than a pocketknife, not the giant combat knife he’d worn in the army that would skid along the surface of the vest until it found an opening. In a fight, he wasn’t going to have the time to try to slip the blade between the plates, not while Robert was trying to take the knife away from him.
Robert sneered. “You’re going to die, Grimes. I’m going to kill you then I’m going up there to kill your bitch… but not before I fuck her. Nobody will be able to hear her scream, and I’m going to fuck her until she’s dead.”
Hammer said nothing because Robert was only trying to goad him into a rash attack. He used the thought of Robert raping Lily to fuel his rage, to sweep away his labored breathing, energize his tired legs, and blot out his pain. He took the fury and directed it, focused it, used it become death personified. He smiled. Robert was already dead, he just didn’t know it.
With the body armor on, any blows to Robert’s body would be ineffectual and would only likely hurt Hammer’s hand, but the armor was heavy, and constricting, and would slow him down. Hammer was taller than Robert, and with his greater reach, he could stand off and punch to wear Robert down. He moved in and threw a couple of range-finding lefts before unloading with his right with an uppercut that he got his back into.
His fist crashed into Robert’s jaw, and he staggered back. He was no pushover and gave his head a shake to try to clear the ringing from the blow, but before he could recover, Hammer’s left jab connected. Robert’s nose exploded in a spray of blood, and he stumbled back again.
Robert, realizing that Hammer was picking him apart, roared as he charged in. Hammer fired another hard right into Robert’s face, the impact of fist on bone radiating all the way to his shoulder, but Robert blew right through the punch, taking Hammer to the ground again.
Robert was hurt, the last punch temporarily blinding him in his left eye. Hammer grabbed Robert and pulled his head down and tucking it under his arm to lock it in as he surrounded Robert with his legs.
Robert began to punch Hammer in the ribs as he drove with his legs, trying to power out of the hold, his back arching up, using the power of legs to pry open Hammer’s arms. Hammer grimaced as Robert tried to power his way out of the hold, then released him. Robert popped up like a spring, the sudden release of pressure allowing Hammer to force him off of him again.
As Robert scrambled to his feet, Hammer rushed him, bellowing in rage, hitting him hard, going in under his defense and picking him up before body-slamming him to the ground at the edge of the creek.
Robert screamed in pain as he landed with a splash in the shallows of the creek, the armor protecting him from the impact of the rocks. The water began to turn a thin red as he bled from a cut on his head from the impact against a rock. Hammer began to fire right after right into Robert’s face.
“Die, goddamn you… die, goddamn you… die, goddamn you,” he chanted with every blow, his own knuckles red with blood from Robert’s face and his own split skin.
Robert attempted to rally, shoving Hammer then kicking at him, causing him to stumble back. Robert tried to regain his feet, moving slowly due to the hell Hammer had rained down upon him, but Hammer was there again, shoving his head under the water.
“Die you motherfucker,” Hammer said as Robert’s thrashing became more violent and desperate, but weighted with his armor and Hammer’s knee in his back he couldn’t rise.
With a convulsive lunge, Robert got his head up just long enough to dra
w in a breath before Hammer shoved it back under the water. Hammer’s mouth carved into a feral sneer, as he continued to hold Robert down, the man’s struggles becoming weaker and weaker until they stopped. He continued to hold Robert’s face in the water until, with a convulsive gasp, he released him and jumped to his feet.
He stood up, the icy cold water swirling around his calves, panting hard. It was over. He shivered. He was wet to his waist from kneeling in the water, and his shirt was wet from rolling around in the snow and Robert’s splashes. He shuddered again, his arms going around his body as he slogged out of the stream, picking up his rifle as he trudged up the hill toward the cabin.
###
Lily jumped as a siren whooped, then fell silent. “Lily! Don’t shoot! It’s me, Hammer.”
She jumped to her feet at Hammer’s voice, flung the door open, and ran to him, her feet barely touching the ground. She leapt into his arms and held him tight as his arms closed around her, holding her to him, her feet not touching the ground.
SECRET BABY AT THE ALTAR Page 73
