Page 15

Amelia

I heard a vehicle long before I saw it, the deep rumble echoing between the buildings like distant thunder.

I’d expected Hammer to show up on his bike, but instead, a big truck pulled in.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I stepped onto the landing outside my apartment.

A slight breeze blew as I watched. I’d called him in panic, and now he was here -- my reluctant savior, wrapped in leather and denim.

He pulled up by the stairs, the engine’s growl cutting off abruptly as he turned the key.

The sudden silence felt heavier than the noise had been.

Hammer swung open the door and stepped out, his movements unhurried yet purposeful.

His leather cut bore the Dixie Reapers patch I’d come to both fear and respect -- so different from the Devil’s Minions emblem that had haunted my nightmares for years.

“You’re alone?” he asked, his deep voice carrying up to me as he surveyed the area, eyes scanning every shadow.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself despite the lingering heat of the day. “The boys are inside. Levi’s watching through the window.”

Hammer climbed the metal stairs, each step deliberate. Up close, the lines etched around his eyes seemed deeper, his beard more silver than I’d noticed in the diner. Tattoos crawled up his forearms, faded with age but still bold against his tanned skin.

“Tell me exactly what you saw,” he said, stopping a respectful distance away.

Words tumbled out of me then, my voice unsteady at first but gaining strength as I recounted the Prospect watching the diner, how I’d recognized the Devil’s Minions colors instantly, how I’d fled with the boys from school.

“He was young,” I said, “Maybe twenty-two, twenty-three. Thin, dark hair. Watching me like… like he was memorizing everything.” I swallowed hard. “Like Piston told him to.”

Hammer’s expression remained impassive, but something in his expression hardened at Piston’s name.

“There’s more,” I admitted, my hand unconsciously rising to my throat where phantom fingers still seemed to press. “This wasn’t our first attempt to escape. Last time, Piston… he got drunk. Angrier than usual.”

I closed my eyes briefly, the memory washing over me like ice water.

Piston’s face twisted with rage, his breath hot with whiskey as he’d pinned me against the wall.

“You think you can take my sons?” he’d snarled, his hand closing around my throat until black spots danced before my eyes.

“You try to leave, and I’ll make sure those boys watch while I teach you your place. ”

“He threatened me, said he’d make the boys watch while he hurt me,” I told Hammer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I have no doubt he’ll kill me if he gets his hands on me again.”

Hammer’s weathered face remained still as stone, but his eyes -- those deep brown eyes that had watched me in the diner -- flashed with something dangerous.

“If a Prospect is here, others won’t be far behind,” he said finally. “Piston’s reaching out, testing. Seeing if the rumors about you being here are true.”

A chill ran through me despite the warm evening. “What do we do?”

Hammer studied me for a long moment. “The Dixie Reapers protect their own, Amelia. But there are rules.”

“Rules,” I repeated, the word bitter on my tongue. Rules had governed my life with Piston too.

“To get full protection from the club,” Hammer continued, his voice level, “you need to be family. Blood relation, or an old lady of a member.”

I stared at him, understanding dawning slowly. “You’re saying I need to… to belong to someone in the club for protection?”

Hammer’s jaw tightened. “Not belong to. Be with. There’s a difference.”

I laughed, a harsh sound with no humor in it. “Is there? Really?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “The women of the Dixie Reapers are respected, Amelia. Protected. Not owned. But the club won’t go to war with another MC for someone who isn’t family.”

I turned away, looking out over the street. Chase and Levi were watching through the window. I could feel their eyes on us, their worry a tangible thing. They’d already lost so much -- their childhood, their sense of safety. I couldn’t let them lose more.

“How long do we have?” I asked, still not facing him. “Before they come for us?”

“Hard to say. Could be days. Could be hours. But you won’t face them alone. We can move you tonight. Somewhere safe until we figure this out.”

I turned back, meeting his gaze directly. “And then what? We just keep running? Keep hiding?” My voice trembled with sudden anger. “I’m so tired of being afraid, Hammer. So damn tired of looking over my shoulder, of checking locks three times, of jumping every time a motorcycle drives by.”

His expression softened almost imperceptibly. “I know.”

Two simple words, but somehow I believed he did know. That he understood what it was to live with fear as a constant companion.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. The thought had formed the moment he’d mentioned old ladies, crystallizing with sudden clarity. It was desperate. Possibly insane. But I was done running.

“You said I need to be an old lady for protection,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Then let me be yours.”

Hammer went utterly still, his expression frozen. For a heartbeat, shock registered in his eyes before his features rearranged themselves into that unreadable mask. But I’d seen it -- that moment of complete surprise.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said finally, his voice rougher than before.

“I do.” I stepped closer, close enough to catch the scent of leather and motor oil that clung to him. “You’ve been watching over me at the diner. The boys told me. You’ve been keeping an eye on us all along.”

“That’s not --”

“It is,” I insisted. “And I’m not asking for love, Hammer. I’m not even asking for anything real. I’m asking for protection for my boys.” My voice cracked slightly. “I’m asking you to help us stop running.”

Hammer’s gaze bored into mine, searching for something I couldn’t name. The silence between us stretched taut as a wire, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the soft whisper of wind through the trees lining the street.

“You think it’s that simple?” he asked finally.

“Nothing about this is simple,” I answered. “But my boys need safety more than I need pride.” I held his gaze, refusing to look away. “Please, Hammer. Let me be yours.”

His jaw tightened, muscles working beneath his beard as he processed my words. For a moment, something raw and unguarded flashed across his face -- including something that might have been longing -- before he forced himself back into that unyielding mask I’d grown familiar with.

“Pack your things,” he said finally, his voice giving away nothing of what he might be feeling. “Just the essentials. We’re moving you tonight.”

I backed toward my open door, tugging the hem of my cardigan tight around my ribs. The air had cooled, or maybe it was just the chill spreading through me at Hammer’s non-answer. He hadn’t agreed to my proposition, but he hadn’t laughed in my face either. That had to count for something.

“I’ll wait here while you pack,” Hammer said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “Ten minutes, Amelia. Grab what you need for tonight. We can come back for the rest later.”

I nodded, my throat too tight for words. “The boys --” I started.

“Will be safe,” Hammer finished. “You have my word.”

His word. How many times had Piston given me his word, only to break it with the next bottle of Jack? But something in Hammer’s steady gaze made me believe him, made me trust despite years of learned wariness.

Chase and Levi waited by the window, both springing back as I entered the apartment. Chase’s face was tight with anxiety, Levi’s pale behind his glasses.

“What did he say?” Chase demanded immediately. “Is he going to help us?”

I closed the door but didn’t lock it, knowing Hammer stood just outside. “We’re leaving tonight. Just for a while, until they figure out what to do about the Prospect.”

“But the diner -- school --” Levi began.

“Will still be here when it’s safe,” I said, moving quickly to the boys’ room. “Pack only what you need for a few days. Clothes, toiletries, any medication. Chase, make sure Levi gets his inhaler.”

“Mom.” Chase followed me, his voice dropping. “What aren’t you telling us?”

I paused, my hands stilling on the duffel bag I’d pulled from under my bed. The duffel we’d used to flee Florida, that I’d kept ready in case we needed to run again. “I asked Hammer to make me his old lady,” I said quietly. “For protection.”

Chase’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening in a way that reminded me painfully of his father. “You what?”

“It’s the only way to get full club protection.” I resumed packing, stuffing clothes into the bag without folding them. “The Reapers only go to war for family.”

“But you barely know him,” Chase protested.

I gave my son a weary smile. “I barely knew your father when I got on the back of his bike. At least this time, I’m choosing someone who might actually be decent.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Chase said, his voice softening. “We can find another way.”

I zipped the duffel closed with more force than necessary. “There is no other way. Not with a Devil’s Minions Prospect already in town, not with your father looking for us.” I met my son’s troubled gaze. “I’ve spent your entire life making the wrong choices, Chase. Let me make one right one.”

He held my gaze for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. “I’ll help Levi pack.”

As Chase moved to their room, I sank onto my bed, the reality of what I’d just proposed to Hammer crashing over me like a wave. Become his old lady. Let a man claim me again, even if only in name. Trade one leather cut for another.