PREGNANT AT THE ALTAR

by Claire St. Rose

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” he said with a smile before he helped her to her feet.

  “Yeah. Did you let me escape that time?” she asked. So far, her only successes had come when he allowed them.

  “Nope. That was all you. Next, I’ll show you what to do after you slip the hold.”

  She grinned and threw her hands up in the air in triumph. It had taken several attempts, before she’d finally managed to escape his hold. A few men were still watching them, including Motor, but most had returned to their own workouts when she was failing time after time.

  It was a shame they weren’t alone. She could get used to the idea of learning something new then having Hammer fuck the shit out of her as a reward. Talk about incentive!

  “That’s your phone,” Motor said, jerking his head at Hammer’s bag as a happy ditty played inside.

  “Take a break,” Hammer said and sauntered over to his bag. He dug around until he found his phone. “Hammer.” He listened for a moment and then turned to Lily. “I have to take this. Get a drink or something. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” He placed the phone against his ear again. “Go,” he said and then walked away.

  Lily picked up her water bottle and took a long drink then looked at Motor. “Known Hammer long?” she asked as she crossed the mat to stand in front of him, taking another hit from the bottle.

  Motor smiled and nodded. “Twenty years, or there ‘bouts.”

  Lily blinked, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “Did you say twenty years?”

  Motor’s smile spread. “That’s right. Since he was nine or ten years old.” She blinked at him again, obviously confused. “His parents weren’t worth shit,” Motor said. “Borderline alcoholics, both of them, from what Hammer’s told me. They didn’t give a shit about him. As long as he wasn’t bothering them, they didn’t much care what he did. What do they call it when you don’t help someone but don’t really hurt them either?”

  Lily thought for a moment. “Benign neglect?”

  Motor snapped his fingers and then pointed a gun at Lily made from his first finger and thumb. “That’s it. I guess they made sure he had clothes and food. After that…” He shook his head. “I used to see him walking back and forth by my house. Hot, cold, rain, dark—it didn’t matter. Here was this eight or nine-year-old kid, carrying a red bag, walking. I always wondered where he was going, but I figured, it was none of my business, right? Then I happened to see him one day going into the White Tiger Dojo, and that was five fucking miles from my house. God knew how far from his.”

  Lily nodded. As a cop, she knew she was going to see shit like this all the time, and it broke her heart. Some people didn’t deserve the privilege of having kids.

  “I don’t know why, but it pissed me off. I was watching when he came walking back, and I followed him. Kept my distance to not scare him, but I wanted to know where he lived. He lived another couple miles on past my house. Seven miles. The kid was walking seven fucking miles each way.”

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “At first I didn’t do anything. Still not my business, right? But every time I saw him walk past, it pissed me off a little more. Then one day I didn’t see him coming back. It was dark, and cold, and fuck me, I was starting to get worried. I was just about to get on my bike and go find him when I saw him coming down the street. He was limping, and bad. It ripped my guts out.”

  “What had happened to him?”

  “I found out later that he took a bad fall in class. It happens. Twisted his ankle.” Motor paused and smiled. “I got in my car and offered him a ride home. The little bastard wouldn’t take it. Kid was smart. I wouldn’t have hurt him, but…” He shrugged. “Two days later, there he was again, still limping, but going to class.”

  He stopped, and Lily saw the faraway expression on his face. In his mind’s eye, Motor was seeing the young Joe Grimes limping along the sidewalk.

  “The next day I went to the Dojo and talked to the Sensei. Found out that Hammer had gotten a six-month membership as a Christmas and birthday present, and was paying five bucks a week, his allowance, to build credit to keep it going as long as possible. He had about another month paid for, then he was going to be out.”

  Lily nodded, fascinated by the tale.

  “I left, but the more I thought about it, the more it bugged me. Me, the badass biker, feeling sorry for this little kid. The next day, I was there. I wasn’t allowed to watch the kids, nobody is allowed to do that, but I talked to the Sensei after Hammer left. I told him to bill me for Hammer’s classes. I also gave him a bicycle to give to Hammer the next time he came in.”

  “You bought him a bicycle?”

  Motor smiled. “Yeah. It was a cheap Walmart special, but even a cheap bike beats walking. The Sensei knew the score, that Hammer was walking, but he didn’t realize how far. He said he’d make sure he got the bike, and I paid for another six months of lessons on the spot.”

  “You’re a good man,” Lily said, beaming as she was warming up to Motor more and more.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but any kid that dedicated to something deserved a boost. I got a thank you card in the mail from Hammer a few days later. I guess he got the address from my check. A few days after that, I heard a knock on the front door, and there was Hammer. I could tell he was scared shitless, but he told me, ‘Thank you for the bicycle and the lessons,’ and tried to hand me a five-dollar bill… the little shit.”

  Motor gave a short sniff, and Lily saw the faintest watery sheen wash over his eyes. “Anyway, to make a long story short, after that, I became his jujitsu buddy. His parents couldn’t be bothered to be there on parent nights, but I tried to make every one of them. When he got a little older, he started hanging around the clubhouse, kind of like a mascot, you know? The Souls—we sort of adopted him. We paid for his classes, equipment, and trips to compete, and made sure he had a way to get there. He washed bikes and did chores around the place to earn some pocket money.”

  “What did his parents say about him hanging around with a motorcycle club?” she asked. She’d almost said gang, but remembered what Hammer said and changed it at the last moment.

  “He didn’t tell them. He said he was catching a ride with a friend or something.”

  “And you were okay with him lying to his parents?”

  “Didn’t bother me one shit,” Motor said, his tone firmer. “They didn’t give much of a shit about him, and I gave even less of a shit about them.”

  She smiled at Motor. Sometimes doing the wrong thing for the right reason was the right thing to do. It sounded like Hammer was lucky enough to find someone who cared about him, even if his parents didn’t.

  “Don’t believe a word he says,” Hammer said as he stepped back onto the mat, tossing his phone into his bag.

  “Thanks, Mr. Blasick,” Lily said with a mischievous smile.

  Motor grimaced, as if he’d tasted something bad, and shook his head. “Let’s get one thing straight right now. If you’re going to keep coming here, I’m Motor, or if you can’t manage that, Morgan. I feel old enough as it is without you making it worse by calling me Mr. Blasick.”

  Lily giggled. “Okay, Motor.”

  “There, that’s better.” Motor shifted his attention to Hammer. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Knife wanted to talk to me about a security gig we’re working on.” Hammer would call him later to fill him in. Once a Soul, always a Soul, and he often sought advice from the old man.

  Motor nodded, visibly hearing everything he needed to. “I’ll let you two get back to it. Try not to hurt him too much, okay?” he said with a wink and a grin at Lily before he turned and walked away.

  She smiled at the verbal jab at Hammer. All three of them knew he could mop the floor with her at his whim but she still enjoyed Motor’s teasing support.

  “What now?” she asked.

  He stepped in close. “I think that’s enough for today, don’t you? We’ll pick it up again next time
.” He paused and put his lips near her ear. “Unless you want to do some grappling back at my place.”

  She released a soft groan. “My place.” They didn’t have the privacy they had the last time she was here. “So I don’t have to go out again until I need to leave for work in the morning.”

  He’d picked her up in his truck earlier and would’ve had to take her home anyway. He grinned at the idea of spending the night with her for the third time. Apparently, they had moved beyond the fuck and run stage.

  “I have a couple of pins I want to show you,” he whispered then brushed her ear with his lips.

  Lily was afraid her face was going to split with her smile. She couldn’t wait.

  ###

  The shooter sat in his car across the street from Canvas, parked so that he could see the entrance to the gym in his rearview mirror. Even if his car was spotted, it was just another car sitting in with all the other cars parked along the street. A white Honda Accord was as near invisible as any car on the planet, which was why he’d purchased it.

  Old habits die hard.

  He’d been tailing the policewoman on and off for the last several days. He didn’t know her first name, but he knew her last, Donovan. He’d followed her to her apartment, then returned later and looked at the clustered mailboxes for the number of her apartment. Some names on the boxes were near impossible to read, but her box was labeled with handwritten letters that, while soft and feminine, were almost typewriter precise—LILY DONOVAN.

  He was still scouting possible locations to set up for the kill, determining his escape routes and the daily comings and goings of the area. Her building was part of a large complex. He would have to choose his location carefully to avoid detection.

  Grimes was hanging around more often, and that complicated his task. While taking his lover in front of him would be immensely satisfying, he had to be sure of his tactical situation. Grimes was hardened by combat, and he would know what to watch for if he witnessed the takedown.

  The shooter had given up the idea of taking her at Grimes’ house. The setup was perfect, with his house on a slight rise, but at only two hundred yards, he was way too close. Grimes would know the direction of the shot and would be able to instantly pinpoint his hide. He’d have to kill him to escape, and he didn’t want to kill him. Not yet.

  Not until he’d made him suffer.

  He’d tailed Lily and Grimes, watching as they went to Canvas. To kill time while waiting for them to return, he searched the Internet, curious as to what they might be doing inside. He browsed Canvas’s website, his eyes flicking up often to the rearview mirror to make sure Grimes’ black F150 was still there.

  On the site, he paused when the owner’s name tickled his brain. He stared at the name, Morgan Blasick, trying to tease the memory out. Then he had it and smiled. Corporal Grimes had mentioned Morgan several times in a fond way.

  The shooter’s lips pulled wider, and he felt the familiar tingle in his cock. Policewoman Lily Donovan was proving to be a harder target than he’d expected, but maybe he’d found a softer target. And Donovan? She’d still be there, and he’d have her. The more difficult the kill, the greater the satisfaction in accomplishing it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “We’ve got shit, and shit is all we’re going to get,” Mike said.

  “Fuck!” Hammer spat.

  Knife, and the rest of the Souls present, nodded in agreement.

  Hammer scrubbed at his face. It galled him that whoever took the shot at Stilts was going to get away with it, but if there was nothing, there was nothing. They had pressed hard the first two weeks, but over the last week, they’d slowly been pulling back.

  He looked to Knife. “Any ideas?”

  “As much as it pisses me off to have to say this, I think we’re going to have to sit on this until something breaks. We’ve been beating the shit out of our contacts for three weeks and, as Mike said, we’ve got shit.”

  “Fuck!” Hammer sat, grinding his teeth as he thought, while the rest of the club waited for his decision. He couldn’t think of a thing they could do that they hadn’t already tried at least once.

  “Goddammit. Make sure everyone knows that if they get even so much as a whiff of something, we want to know.”

  “They know,” Mike said.

  “Stilts deserves better than this,” Hammer snarled, his frustration getting the better of him.

  Knife put his hand on Hammer’s shoulder. “Sometimes we get fucked, no matter how bad we want it. Don’t let it eat you up. You’ve done all anyone could do.”

  He glared at Knife. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No, it’s supposed to make you realize that, sometimes, shit happens that you can’t control.”

  “Yeah, okay. Shit. I need a drink.”

  Knife gave Hammer’s shoulder a squeeze then turned him loose. They walked to the bar where Chains was pouring shots, setting out an extra one for their fallen brother.

  “To Stilts,” Hammer said, and then paused as the rest of the Souls repeated him. They tossed back their drinks just as Hammer’s phone rang.

  He winced as the liquid fire burned down his throat, and then fished the phone out of his pocket. He smiled as he accepted the call.

  “Jack’s Mule Barn, head ass speaking.”

  “Hammer, you need to get to Motor’s,” Lily said, her voice firm and professional.

  Hammer’s blood instantly went cold, and the smile was leached from his face. “What happened?”

  “Just get here,” she said and was gone.

  ###

  Hammer hauled his bike to a stop with maximum effort braking, the rear tire on his hog skidding as he wrestled the big bike. He’d outpaced the rest of the Souls, but he could hear them coming as he hurried across the grass. There were four squad cars and two detective cars sitting in the drive, their red and blue lights flashing in the cold early afternoon air.

  “Don’t go in there,” Lily said as she stepped into the doorway, blocking his entrance.

  “I have to,” he said, gently muscling her aside.

  He turned to the kitchen, where the bulk of the officers were, and froze.

  Motor.

  He was lying on the floor—the larger part of his head split open—blood and gore everywhere.

  Hammer’s eyes widened as he glanced around the kitchen, taking it all in. There was a shattered pane of glass in the window and opposite it a hole in the wall. He took a step back and looked at the combined living room and kitchen wall. There was a large hole where the bullet had passed through, and then across the room from that, another hole in another wall.

  Lily tugged at Hammer’s arm. “Come with me,” she said, pulling him away from the carnage.

  He was pale as death and seemed to be in shock. She was leading him outside as the rest of the Souls hurried toward the house.

  “What’s going on?” an older brother demanded.

  “Mr. Blasick was shot and killed last night,” Lily said.

  The biker started around her, but she put her hand on his chest. “I can’t let you go in there. It’s a crime scene.”

  Knife jerked her hand down from his chest and started to step around her again, but she moved in front of him and blocked him.

  “Don’t make this worse.” Her voice brooked no argument. “Worry about the living,” she added, glancing at Hammer.

  Knife looked at the nametag on her chest. “You Lily?”

  “Yeah. Officer Lily Donovan. And you are?”

  “Don Griffin. They call me Knife,” he said. “Hammer’s told me about you. What happened?”

  “Still investigating.” She paused and peered around, then jerked her head toward the street.

  When she, Knife and Hammer were standing by the bikes she continued, her tone now softer. “Forensics still needs to go over the place, but it appears there was a single shot fired through the kitchen window. A large caliber bullet struck Mr. Blasick in the head. It was probab
ly fired from a rifle of some kind, and he was killed instantly.” She looked around again. “You didn’t get any of that from me, understand?”

  Knife nodded as he looked at his brothers. “Stilts.”

  “That’s what we’re thinking,” Lily said. “Any idea who would be targeting the Souls?”

  “No. But we’re going to find out.”

  Hammer eyed her. “Why did you call me?” he asked, his voice as soft as she’d ever heard it.

  “Because I knew you’d want to know.”

  He nodded, the muscles in his jaws working. “How’d you find out?”

  She looked around again. “Again, you’re not getting this from me. We got a report of a gunshot last night. We checked it out but didn’t find anything. It happens. About an hour ago we got a call from a neighbor about the broken window. She thought some kids had broken it—throwing rocks or something. An officer was dispatched, and when no one answered the door, he called Canvas to let Mr. Blasick know about the window. When he got no answer there, and with the gunshot report in the area, he looked a little closer. He couldn’t see the body, but he saw the mess. In his estimation, there was a medical emergency, and he entered the residence.”