Chapter Eleven
Hammer groaned as a thousand evil gnomes drove an equal number of long, dull, spikes into the inside of his skull. He opened his eyes and then crushed them closed again. The bright morning sun was filling the living room with light, and opening his eyes had enraged the gnomes even more, causing them to redouble their efforts.
The doorbell chimed, and then someone pounded on the door, the impact of fist again wood like cannon fire.
“Hammer?” Lily called out before she pounded again.
“Jesus! What?” He winced as he pressed his palms to his head to keep it from falling off his shoulders and rolling across the room. “Coming!” He levered himself out of the chair.
The floor tipped sideways. He grabbed the chair and held on so he wouldn’t tumble across the room and fall against the door into the garage. The room slowly righted, and as soon as the floor was level again, he lurched toward the door.
“Fuck!” he snarled softly, the sun blazing into his face like an interrogation light. “What?” he growled. While he wasn’t a particularly early riser, he normally woke up in a good mood, ready for the day. But not this morning.
“You look like shit,” Lily said as Hammer stood before her, one hand on the doorknob as he squinted, blinked, and wavered a little. She’d come straight from the station and was still in her uniform and ballistic vest.
“Yeah, well, at least I look better than I feel,” he muttered before he stepped back in silent invitation. The fucking gnomes had given up on the spikes and switched over to chainsaws.
As she stepped in, he pushed the door shut, the bang of it closing like a nuclear explosion in his head.
She snickered as she stepped into the room. She saw the near empty bottle of Beam on the floor. “I wanted to stop by and check on you. You sounded rough last night. How are you holding up?”
He sat back down on his chair and bent over to place his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. “Hungover,” he muttered.
“How much did you drink last night?”
“Too much.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No.”
She moved into his kitchen and began to open cabinets. It was bold of her, and she knew that having coffee to sober up and cure a hangover was a total myth, but she could tell he needed something.
She felt sorry for Hammer. She’d read the case report last night while she and Hunter prowled the streets. It must have been terrible to have your friend shot and killed while standing right beside you. She couldn’t figure out how the gunman had pulled it off. How he could have made the shot and slipped away without anyone, Souls or civilians, noticing him.
It wasn’t so much that he got away. A lot of murderers got away with the crime initially. It was the fact that nobody saw the shooter or anyone that seemed suspicious or out of place. A lot of people had heard the gunshot, but there were conflicting testimonies over where the shot had come from.
She and Hunter had cruised through the park last night out of morbid curiosity. They hadn’t stopped at the enclosure, but it was at the edge of the large open green area that surrounded the baseball fields. There was no place for a gunman to hide, and yet he’d managed to pull it off and get away without anyone seeing him. It was like he was a ghost.
Finally finding everything she was looking for, she got the coffee brewing then walked to the bathroom and eventually found a bottle of generic brand acetaminophen. He was a big guy, so she shook four into her hand then returned to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Here,” she said, holding the tablets out to Hammer along with the glass.
“Thanks.” He took the tablets and washed them down.
“All of it,” she ordered when he stopped drinking. “You’re dehydrated.”
He seemed to know she was right and chugged the remainder of the glass. She finished the coffee, pouring it into two mugs while he sat at the table, looking green. She brought the coffee over to him and he flashed her a small smile.
“Thanks,” he said again as he took the mug.
Lily sat down on the end of the couch that partnered with the two recliners and held the mug. She knew drinking coffee now, when she needed to go home and get some sleep, was a bad idea, but the brewing coffee had smelled wonderful, and she needed something to perk her up enough to get home. She’d poured herself only a half-cup, and was now allowing the mug to warm her hands, watching as Hammer sipped from his mug.
“Want to talk?” she asked.
“No.”
“It might help.”
He looked up at her. “It won’t help. He’s dead, and no amount of talking about it is going to bring him back.”
She took a sip from her cup, sighing as the hot, bitter, liquid warmed her. “No, it won’t. But it might help you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Which is why you downed almost a whole bottle of Beam last night?”
“Half bottle,” he corrected but didn’t elaborate further. She took another sip from her mug as she watched him. “I’ll be okay,” he finally said then hoisted his mug with a flicker of a smile. “Thank you.”
“If you don’t want to talk to me, talk to your friends, brothers, whatever you call them.” She paused and then decided to go all in. “I was worried about you last night.”
“You’re sweet.”
“I’m not kidding, Hammer. Last night, you sounded… dead I guess is the best way to describe it. Like all the life had gone out of you, and I don’t think it was because you were snockered.”
He looked at her again and forced out a smile. “I’ll be okay.”
She watched him over the rim of the mug. She had a major in criminal justice with a minor in psychology. One of the things she knew how to do was read body language, and Hammer’s body language didn’t match his words. He wasn’t fine, and he wasn’t going to be okay. He was trying to keep it all inside, but he’d been affected by losing his friend.
“If you ever need to talk, you know how to reach me.”
He nodded. He was still hungover as shit, but the gnomes were starting to get tired as the liquid and drugs began to do their thing.
He was touched that she cared enough to stop by. He’d joined with his brothers to mourn Stilts, and all of them were dealing with their grief in their own way. Some had gone home to the comfort of their old ladies. His way had been the bottle, but it hadn’t helped. The ache was still there, and now he was hungover too.
“Thank you,” he said. “And thanks for stopping by.” He wasn’t up for giving her much, but a genuine smile cracked his lips. “You may have saved my life.”
She smiled back, hoping he was making a joke and not contemplating something drastic. “To serve and protect.”
“Any word?”
“No, not yet. But I promise you, Hammer, we won’t let this drop. I won’t let it drop.”
He watched her eyes, and he could see the determination there. This was personal for her, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. He also wondered why. Maybe it was because she was still a rookie and she would become harder and more jaded with time. If she took every tragic event personally, she was going to self-destruct.
“Keep me informed of what’s going on?” Knowing what the cops knew might help the Souls track down the asshole who shot Stilts.
“Of course.”
“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
She nodded. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
His blood ran cold for a moment. “What do you mean?”
She couldn’t come right out and accuse him of being a killer for hire. “Only that people do things in a moment of passion that they might regret later. If someone killed my dad, for example, I’d want revenge. It’s a perfectly natural reaction, but that’s why we have laws. I’m just saying, don’t let your emotions drive you into making a bad decision you’ll regret.”
He nodded. She wouldn’t have been much of a cop if she hadn’t heard the rumors. Fortunat
ely, the police couldn’t arrest people on a suspicion or rumors.
She drained the rest of her mug and rose. She walked to the kitchen, rinsed her cup and then returned with the carafe from the coffee machine and refilled his cup.
“I have to go. I’m beat and need to go home and get some sleep. I’m back on at three today. If you need anything, even if it’s just someone to talk to, call me, okay?”
He sat his mug on the table and rose when she returned from the kitchen. “I will,” he replied and then paused. “Seriously, thank you for stopping by. It means a lot to me.”
She smiled, liking the warmth she heard in his voice. “It’s what friends do.”
He smiled down at her. “Are we friends?”
Her smile widened slightly as she bobbed her head. “I’d like to think so.”
Despite the pounding in his head, he reached out and took her chin gently between his finger and thumb then kissed her slowly. “I’d like to think so too.”
It was an innocent kiss, but it still warmed her. If she wasn’t so fucking tired, and if he hadn’t just suffered a personal tragedy and was so hungover, she might be tempted to see if he was up for some slap and tickle, but instead, she ducked her head to hide her growing smile. He’d just lost a close friend in a horrific way, and she didn’t want to appear insensitive.
“I’ll call you later, after I wake up, to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She nodded and stepped toward the door. As she touched the handle, she turned to tell him goodbye and to again express her sympathy for his loss. He placed his hand on hers, preventing her from turning the knob. She looked up in questioning, and his lips took hers. She released the knob and melted into the kiss, her arms going around his neck.
She breathed deep, her heart hammering in her chest, as he tasted her, pulling her into the kiss. She felt flushed and hot; as if it were the middle of summer instead of late fall. His embrace tightened, and she silently cursed the vest that prevented her from feeling Hammer’s body against her own.
The kiss slowly dissolved, and as Lily relaxed out of it, she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“That’s some kiss goodbye,” she murmured, licking her lips to feel the lingering warmth.
“Don’t go.”
She swallowed hard. “I have to. I’d like to stay, but I have to get some sleep. I have to be on duty again in eight hours.”
He continued to hold her, watching her eyes, but then slowly released her. She wasn’t changing her mind. She lingered just long enough for him to give her another quick kiss in parting, then stepped out in the crisp cool air. There was a definite bite to it as winter approached.
Hammer watched as she walked to her car, her breath marking her path with steamy tendrils that quickly faded. She gave him a smile and a wave before she jumped into her car. He gave her a half-hearted wave back then stepped back inside his house and shut the door.
His headache was fading fast now. He still felt like shit, but not as bad as he had felt when Lily first arrived. Part of it was the water rehydrating him, and part of it was the acetaminophen taking the edge off. But as he sat down in his chair and picked up his mug, he couldn’t deny that part of it was also to do with seeing Lily and knowing she seemed to care. He took another sip of the strong black coffee and closed his eyes for a moment.
Maybe he was more than just a hard cock after all.
###
Lily sat in her car, wondering how the hell she was going to sleep now. That kiss had been electrifying. She’d felt groggy and strung out when she’d stopped by, and had toyed with the idea of skipping the visit and going home to crash. Had she not given Hammer her word, she would have.
She reached down and pushed the button to start her car as she smiled. If she didn’t have to work again so soon, she would have gladly stayed, feeling like the Energizer Bunny now. She could keep going and going and going. But it would have caught up with her later, and falling asleep while on patrol? That would be enough to get stuck behind a desk for the rest of her career, if she even still had a career.
She backed down his drive and onto the street, her smile growing wider. But let him try that shit next time and see what would happen.
###
The gunman watched the police officer leave Corporal Grime’ house through his spotting scope. He’d kept his rifle locked in the trunk of his car, parked five streets east in another part of the sub-division. He was assessing the impact of his action on Grimes. He’d been in his hide, tucked into the bushes and behind the subdivision sign, since two hours after he’d snuffed out the life of the man in the park. It had been cold last night, but he had dressed for the chill and was trained to ignore discomforts.
Even if he hadn’t recognized her, the bright yellow Focus was a dead giveaway that this officer was the same woman who followed Grimes home a couple of weeks earlier. She was in uniform, and body armor, but he didn’t think this was an official visit. Not only was she in what had to be her personal car, but she also seemed pleased about something. Her smile wasn’t the expression an officer would make when on official business.
She’d been his lover that much was certain. But was she still? She’d only been in Grimes’ house for about thirty minutes. That was far less time than the last time she’d paid a visit, which meant either they hadn’t fucked or Grimes was a loser that couldn’t hold his nut.
He grinned as she drove past. He didn’t know who she was or where she lived but he was going to find out. If she turned out to be more than just an acquaintance or casual fuck she would be a target too good to pass up.
Chapter Twelve
Over the next several days, the Souls mourned the loss of their brother, burying him with full honors. It was a closed funeral—only Stilts’ family, his brothers, and their old ladies in attendance.
Hammer gave the eulogy, speaking quietly and from the heart, pausing several times to gather himself. He made no mention how Stilts died—there was no need as everyone knew—and kept his remarks to Stilts’ life and what he’d meant to the club.
As six brothers carried Stilts out of the clubhouse, the other twenty-one brothers formed a double line at the back of the hearse, each man carrying Stilts on his final journey. The whole Souls then took up the front and rear of the big black hearse on their Harleys to ride as an honor guard.
Stilts had a soft spot for big Cadillacs from the sixties. Every time he used to see one, he would tell anyone who listened how he would own one someday, and go into exact detail on how he would customize it. Knife had somehow arranged Stilts to be transported in a gleaming 1965 Cadillac hearse with the plate THDRTKR. Thundertaker, with its slammed ride height, massive tires with wide whitewalls, and loud exhaust, was cartoonish and ridiculous, and Stilts would have loved it.
It was an unusually cold day as the Souls led the hearse through town, the rumble of their V-Twins announcing to Souls already departed that another brother would soon be joining them. After they rumbled to a stop on the road near the grave site, the brothers once again formed two lines at the back of the hearse so each man could do his part to carry Stilts, offering their hands in symbolic support.
The process was repeated a final time at the grave site, Stilts being handed man to man to his final resting place. As Stilts’ family, both blood and brotherhood, watched on, Hammer stepped away from his gathered brothers and removed the Immortal Souls pin from his colors. He placed the pin, a skull wearing a Roman Legion helmet, on the top of the polished oak coffin and thumped it hard with his fist, driving the pin into the wood to affix it.
Knife, as vice president followed, then Mike, then each brother in turn; each pausing to drive their pin into Stilts’ casket. Their task now complete, they stood in silence off to the side until the last brother had affixed his pin.
Hammer nodded, and Stilts was lowered into the ground. He watched for a moment, then turned and gave his condolences to Richard Stilton’s family before stepping aside
to allow each brother to do the same.
###
Over the next two weeks, the Souls ripped Amberton apart, looking for any hint to the shooter’s identity. The Souls had an extensive network of contacts they used in their side business—men and women that were valuable for all sorts of information. But in this case, everyone was coming up empty. All expressed their condolences, and promised to keep their ear to the ground for news, but had nothing of value to offer.
“How the fuck can nobody know shit?” Hammer raged after another frustrating day and total lack of progress. “This fucker isn’t a fucking ghost!”
Knife handed Hammer and Mike a beer, keeping one for himself. “I don’t know. You need to keep it together, brother, for the club.”
Hammer took a healthy pull from the beer. Knife was right, and he knew it, but knowing something and being able to do it weren’t always the same thing.
PREGNANT AT THE ALTAR Page 10
