Amelia Sinatra: Hammer Time

by Mallory Monroe

  At first, she was impressed too. Although she preferred black men after being with a white creep like Bulldog, she couldn’t pretend that the man in question, the Hammer as they called him, wasn’t a sexy sight to behold. He was tall and very well-built, with a thick head of brownish hair and the look of a very elegant, cultured person in Armani head-to-toe. Unlike Bulldog, who was chunky and red-faced half the time, this man was tanned, refined, and seemingly everything her husband was not. And he was no politician: she didn’t see that slime in him. But there was something dangerous about him too.

  And that was when it hit her. And her facial expression gave her away. Her big eyes didn’t become even larger because of that bundle between his legs that was obviously big even from across the room, as Hyacinth and the other ladies thought was why her expression changed. But Amelia’s heart began to hammer. It was him! She recognized him! It was the cop who had cornered her eight years before. She’d never forget those piercing blue eyes! And that thick head of hair. And the way his big body seemed to do things to her own body even after all these years and after that one, brief encounter. Eight years later, he was in her living room. And he wasn’t just some no-name cop anymore, if he ever was a cop, but he was now the assistant director of the CIA. The CIA! She nearly dropped her champagne.

  And when Hammer, who had been in a quiet conversation with two other gentlemen, casually looked her way, she knew she was doomed. She knew it was over! But then, he looked away. As if he didn’t recognize her at all. Nor was interested in her at all. And she sighed some relief.

  But as his eyes settled on another target: a beautiful black woman nearby, she could see something change in his expression. Because, as if he had thought about what he had just seen, he stopped looking at the other lady and moved his attention back over to Amelia. And the little relief she thought she had was gone. Because he recognized her. She could tell by the way his eyes settled on her as if he was settling on a very familiar face, and stayed there.

  She quickly and nervously excused herself from the other ladies and headed out of the room. She wanted to find Bulldog and tell him what was going on, but she didn’t see him anywhere, and didn’t have time to initiate a search. She made a beeline for the far back part of the house, away from the crowd; away from that man she once, strangely, didn’t think was her enemy.

  When Hammer realized she was, once again, making a run for it, he casually sat his drink on a side table and headed toward the back side of the house, too. Only he headed there from his side of the room, which was on the opposite side as Amelia.

  Amelia felt as if he would not have the nerve to follow her. Not in her own house! Besides, somebody from her husband’s orbit would undoubtedly pick up on the fact that he was following her, and would put an end to if fast: assistant director be damned! It wouldn’t matter to them. They were paid to keep an eye on her.

  But if Amelia thought shaking Hammer would be as easy as turning corner after corner until she was all the way in the back of the house, she didn’t know Ham. He knew how to evade detection from her husband’s goons, and he knew how to evade detection from her. As she rounded what she thought was going to be her final corner that would lead to the back stairs, the door to the back cloakroom opened, a hand reached out and grabbed her, and pulled her inside.

  She was stunned when she saw him. But there was no doubt now: Hammer was indeed the man she had run afoul of in that alley all those years ago.

  They were face to face again. Within inches again. But this time, they were upright, and Hammer kept his hand on her wrist. She wasn’t getting away so easily this time.

  Amelia was stunned for an additional reason. “How did you beat me back here?” she asked. “How did you know about this cloakroom? We don’t invite guests back here.”

  “I’m CIA,” Hammer said. “We don’t come to an event unless we know the layout.” He thought he was smiling, and being his usually casual self. But he wasn’t smiling. Just looking in her eyes, and seeing that undeniable pain in them still, kept him from levity.

  And Amelia was struck by his eyes again, too. She remembered how soft and tender they were then, and still were now. But his face was harder now. And sterner. As if those eight years might have moved him up the ladder, but the climb had changed him.

  Hammer remembered her, too. He remembered her beauty. He remembered thinking of her as an African princess. But he mostly remembered her pain. It was all over her still, even thought she had a very strong, self-assured look about her. But he still saw that anguish deep within her big, bright, gorgeous eyes. He looked down at her mouth. It was alluring too. “What’s your name?” he asked her.

  She stared at him. “Amelia.”

  “Amelia. That’s not a name people usually pull out of their asses,” he said, and she smiled. “Who are you named after? An aunt? A cousin?”

  “Amelia Earhart,” Amelia said. “The female pilot who went missing and was never found? According to my mother, or at least my aunt who raised me and called herself my mother, she named me because, according to her, I, like Amelia Earhart, was going to be lost in this world too.”

  Hammer’s heart dropped when she said those words. He didn’t know why his heart dropped, but it did. “That’s a hell of a burden to place on a child,” he said.

  “Welcome to my world,” Amelia said with a smile.

  “What’s your last name?”

  “But you’re CIA. Shouldn’t you know already?”

  Hammer laughed. “Touché, my dear, touché!”

  Amelia liked this man. There was a hardness to him, but a kindness too. She wasn’t used to that. “Valtone,” she said. “My last name is Valtone. And yes, I’m married to the host.”

  That should have changed Hammer’s interest in her full stop. But for some strange reason, it didn’t. “Robbing any more banks?” he asked her.

  “I didn’t rob that one,” she said. “You had the wrong person.”

  She smelled wonderful. Like a garden of roses after a summer rain. And when she spoke her breath was cool and refreshing against his prickled skin. But he knew she was lying. Her eyes told him so. “Were you married to the rich and powerful Angus Valtone when you ran afoul of the law? Or is that your dirty little secret and your husband has no clue?”

  Amelia wasn’t about to break down and admit shit. She wasn’t about to let good looks and that supposedly hammer-sized dick make her jump stupid. Although that closeness to him, and they were super-close in that cloakroom, and the smell of his own cologne scent and unrestrained masculinity, made for a mighty Aphrodite. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “You had the wrong person then. I told you so.”

  She was worried that he’d expose her. He could see that in her eyes, too. And he felt a sudden need to disabuse her of her concern. “I didn’t thank you properly for saving my life,” he said. “If you would not have warned me about that gunman, I would have been dead.”

  Amelia would have told him that a thank you was not necessary, but she was nobody’s fool. Saving his life was probably the only reason that saved her ass from going to jail that day. She wasn’t about to minimize it. “You’re welcome,” she said.

  And then they just stood there, in that narrow space, staring into each other’s eyes. Again. But it was Hammer who broke the spell. He’d been staring at her lips too long. He had to have a taste. And he did it. He leaned down and kissed her on her lips. It was meant to be a gentle kiss, and it was. He just wanted a taste. But she tasted so good, he moved in again.

  Amelia wanted it too. His kiss lived up to his reputation. But what were they doing? He didn’t want her! He wanted her body just like all those other bozos Bulldog made her engage with. She pushed him back. “No,” she said.

  Hammer looked at her hair, and then down into her eyes. “Because you’re married?” he asked.

  “I don’t give a fuck about that,” she said bluntly.

  Hammer’s instinct was dead on. He began to rub the
side of her soft, brown skin. “Then why?” he asked.

  “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His erection was beginning to tent his pants. “Who are you to tell me what I don’t want?”

  She didn’t respond. He stared at her. Not because she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. She wasn’t. Reggie Dell’s mother, among many others, won that prize hands down. But there was something about Amelia! “I keep feeling as if we’ve met before,” he said.

  Amelia smiled. “We have.”

  “Not just that night in the alley. But before that. There’s something very familiar about you, Amelia.”

  Amelia knew what he meant. It was that feeling of a bond when none should exist, so you have to justify those feelings with logic. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” she said.

  “Who’s your mother? Your father?”

  “Don’t know,” Amelia said. “And don’t care. My aunt raised me, but she didn’t give me many clues.”

  “Any siblings?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

  “So you’re tough like that, hun?” Hammer asked. “Don’t need anybody?”

  Amelia didn’t respond to that. She needed somebody desperately. But she’d been needing somebody all her life, and that somebody never materialized. She was convinced they never would.

  Hammer stared at her. He didn’t like the feelings he felt. So he smiled them away. “You can trust me, Amelia Earhart,” he said with a half-cocked smile as if it was a joke, although he meant every word. “You won’t be lost in this world with me. I can protect you.”

  She trusted another lawman once. He said he was going to protect her too. So she plotted and schemed for days on end until she managed to run away from Bulldog‘s goons. She ran straight into that lawman’s arms. And he protected her, alright. He protected her long enough for Bulldog to pay him a handsome ransom and then come and get her. That beating she endured afterwards took her what seemed like a year to recover from. She trusted no one.

  “Have a nice life, cop,” she said, and left the cloakroom.

  Hammer opened his eyes, and came back to the real. The Chevy continued to drive toward Minnesota Boulevard as night descended, where, he hoped, his Amelia Earhart would not be lost a moment longer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Inside apartment 38 in the Minnesota Boulevard housing projects, Weasel shoved Amelia down into the seat of a chair. One of the three other men in the room tied her hands behind her back. Then Weasel grabbed her by the chin and lifted her smooth brown face up to his blotchy pink face. He opened a switchblade and placed it against her soft skin. “You ain’t a bad-looking woman, Amelia,” he said, as he traced the blade along her high cheekbone. “I can see why Hammer Reese enjoys fucking you. I can see how you’re one of his whores. Hammer likes the black bitches. But you’re in my hands now. And I’m no Hammer.”

  “You got that right,” Amelia said defiantly, causing snickers from the other men in the room.

  Weasel frowned. “You’ve got a lot of mouth for a woman with a knife to her face. I can make you ugly with just one little press down, bitch, so don’t you forget it!”

  He demonstrated just how easy it was by applying more pressure to the blade against her face. Amelia inwardly winced, but knew he was just bluffing. He had orders to wait, and he had no choice but to follow them. That was why her mind wasn’t on his tricks and stunts. She was too busy attempting every technique Hammer had taught her, if she ever had to free her tied hands.

  Weasel, clueless about what was really going on, was still stuck on his own narrative. “We’ll see if Hammer wants you after I take away your beauty,” he said, staring at her face; at the softness of her skin. “We’ll see if he wants to fuck you when I’m through with you.”

  Then Weasel smiled. “Then again,” he said, “he’s not going to get another chance anyway. I’m going to be the last fucker that fucks you.”

  Unbeknownst to Weasel and the three other men in the room, Amelia had used the technique to perfection and had managed to untie her hands. It was all about distraction now. “Cut the shit, Weasel,” she said impatiently. “Where’s Jerardo? Your ass junior varsity. Where’s the boss? I only deal with the head, not the tail.”

  Weasel was stunned that Amelia had figured out who his boss could be. He looked at the other men. They were careful to use only new people. People, including Weasel himself, that she would have never associated with Jerardo Jovanni. “How did you know?” he asked her, unable to shield his shock.

  She didn’t know. She had been testing the waters. Just recently Jerardo had asked to go into business with her, at least in her US markets, but she had turned him down. He was a high roller, and didn’t take rejection well. She had many enemies, but had placed him at the top of the list for that very reason. That was why she said his name. She was pleased to have bingo off the bat.

  But Amelia didn’t play bingo. She was a chess player. She didn’t give a shit about who the boss was. She just needed time to figure out her next move. “I’ll deal,” she said, “but only with Jerardo.”

  Weasel frowned. “Who are you to make demands? What the fuck you got to deal, anyway, bitch? I’m running this! Jerardo ain’t got time for your ass! You deal with me!”

  Amelia looked into his eyes. She knew guys like Weasel her whole life. She knew he was all talk, and no action. She also knew that Jerardo, somebody she knew as a friend, wouldn’t give a man like Weasel carte blanche to do shit. “You’re a benchwarmer,” she said. “I only work with the starters.”

  Weasel angrily took his knife and sliced down the front of her silk blouse, dislodging all of the buttons and ripping the blouse wide open. Amelia pushed her body back in horror. She wore no bra, and her breasts bounced with her pushback. And the men smiled as her breasts laid bare for all to see.

  Then Weasel smiled too. “I know you and the Hammer claim not to be a couple. I hear all that shit about how it’s all about the baby and you two don’t give a fuck about each other. I know that’s what you two say.”

  He continued to stare at her breasts. “But I say that’s bullshit. There’s no way in hell he’s giving this up.” He moved his hand toward her breast, as if he was going to squeeze it. But fiery Amelia wasn’t about to let him get away with that. She spat in his face. “Touch it, motherfucker,” she warned, “and what limb I don’t tear away from your body, my brothers will!”

  Weasel was a lot of crazy things, but he came to his senses when she reminded him who she was. And, more jarring, who her brothers were! He wiped away her spit and stood erect again. Then he smiled. “Fuck your brothers,” he said. “You’re doomed anyway. Once I get the word, it’s over for you.”

  Amelia had already suspected they planned to kill her. Nobody kidnapped a Sinatra without that ultimate intention. But she knew his boss. She knew Jerardo Jovanni wouldn’t leave that up to Weasel. She had to make her move before she could be proven wrong. “How much?” she asked.

  Weasel and his men looked at her. His men, who didn’t know her personally at all, were amazed at the balls she had. Weasel, who at least knew of her, was too. “How much what?” he asked her.

  “How much is Jerardo paying you to keep me here? Whatever it is, I’ll triple the price.”

  Weasel smiled. Then he laughed. “You don’t get it, do you? You still think you run this, don’t you? When the outside crew finish doing what they got to do and secure that territory, and I get that knock on the door, it’s over for you. And the beautiful thing about it? Your brother, that crazy-ass Mick Sinatra, and your super-crazy ass boyfriend Hammer Reese, will never know we even had you. They’ll never know what happened to you because you are going to be cut into a thousand little pieces and dumped in the Atlantic Ocean. But right now,” he said with menace in his eyes, “I’m going to get my taste.”

  He took one of her breasts in his hand, and squeezed it painfully hard. As soon as he did, Amelia took h
er stiletto-clad foot and kicked as hard as she could into his balls. The knife fell from his hands and he fell to his knees in indescribable agony. The three other men in the room pulled out their guns, ready to take her out at just a word from Weasel.

  But Amelia had her own plans. With her hands now untied, she flipped backwards out of the chair, causing one of the men to fire and miss, and then grabbed the knife Weasel had dropped. She threw it, with precision, at one of the gunmen. She stabbed him through the chest. She rolled again, avoiding gunfire, and tried to grab the downed man’s gun as it flew out of his hand.

  But she wasn’t fast enough. Another gunman placed his big shoe on the gun, and pointed his own gun at her head. “Try it, bitch,” he said.

  And just like that, her scheme was over.

  But it wasn’t over for Weasel. He was so angry at what she had done to him, as the pain continued to shoot through his balls, that he moved over, grabbed the knife out of the chest of one of his men, and hurried to Amelia. He knocked her down, got on his knees and grabbed her from behind, and placed that knife to her face again. His anger was palpable. “I’m supposed to learn everything I can from your ass before I kill you. I’m supposed to learn everything about just how widespread your operation really is. But now I don’t give a fuck. Now I’m going to cut you so deep, and fuck you up so bad, that you won’t have a face that even a mother could love. You killed one of my men, and after what you just did to me? Bitch, you’re about to die!”

  But then the door was kicked open and Ozzie Jones, followed by Hammer himself, walked in. Both men had their weapons drawn, and entered a room where the two remaining men had their weapons drawn also, and aimed them as soon as the door was kicked open.

  And the room, as if a pause button had been pressed, froze. Including Weasel, who now knew Amelia was his only bargaining chip. Including Amelia, who was stunned to see Hammer walk through that door. She expected, once JoJo’s Nanny gave him a call, that his men would hit the street, get intel, and he would send one of his men to her rescue. And with his connections, they just might find her. She never dreamed he’d come himself.