Page 22 of Hammer

“Hey, you okay?”The trucker’s irritation had shifted to concern.

I couldn’t answer.My chest had constricted, each breath shallow and insufficient.Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as sweat beaded along my hairline despite the air conditioning.I gripped the edge of the table, the room spinning slightly as blood rushed in my ears.

“Amelia?”Jessie called from behind the counter.“Everything all right over there?”

My mind flashed to a night three years ago -- Piston dragging me by my hair through our kitchen after I’d answered a text from my cousin.“Who the fuck is Michael?”he’d demanded, my scalp burning as he twisted his fist tighter.“You fucking some guy behind my back?”The memory of my head slamming against the refrigerator door made my temple throb in phantom pain.

“Amelia!”Jessie’s voice was closer now, her hand on my arm.“Honey, you’re white as a sheet.”

I tore my eyes from the window, struggling to focus on her concerned face.“I… I need to go.Family emergency.”

“What happened?”Her eyes darted to the mess on the table, then back to me.

“The boys,” I managed.“School called.Chase is… sick.”The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but Jessie was already nodding.

“Of course, honey.Go take care of your boy.”She squeezed my arm.“Don’t worry about this.I’ve got it covered.”

I mumbled thanks, my eyes drawn back to the window like a magnet.The Prospect had moved, stepping into the shadow of the building across the street.But he was still watching.Still waiting.

My fingers fumbled with my apron ties, the simple knot suddenly as complex as a puzzle box.After three failed attempts, I yanked it over my head instead, nearly taking my ponytail with it.I hung it on the hook by the kitchen door, missing twice before it caught.

“Here.”Jessie handed me my purse from beneath the counter.“You sure you’re okay to drive?You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.“Just worried about Chase.”

Through the front windows, I could see the Prospect moving again -- this time toward a motorcycle parked across the street.My stomach lurched as he swung his leg over the seat, but he didn’t start the engine.Just repositioned it for a better view of both the diner’s front door and the side alley.

He knew.He knew we lived above the diner.Unless it was a coincidence, but my gut said Piston had sent him to find us.

My purse slipped from my shoulder, hitting the floor with athud.Lipstick, keys, and loose change scattered across the linoleum.I dropped to my knees, scrambling to gather everything, aware of how exposed my back felt to the windows.

“Amelia, for God’s sake, leave it,” Jessie said, crouching beside me.“I’ll get this.You go check on Chase.”

I nodded, cramming items back into my purse with trembling fingers.As I stood, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and I had to grab the counter to steady myself.

“I’ll use the back door,” I said, not wanting the Prospect to see me leave.

Jessie’s forehead creased with worry.“You sure you’re all right?You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Something close to it.The ghost of my past life.The ghost of the monster I’d thought we’d escaped.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, edging toward the kitchen.“Just worried about Chase.”

In the kitchen, the cook gave me a curious glance as I hurried past.The back door stuck as it always did, requiring a hard shove with my shoulder.Outside, my gaze swept the empty back lot, searching for any sign of another biker.Nothing.Just dumpsters and the old Honda parked in the corner.The club had given it to me last week so we’d no longer have to walk everywhere.Just as a loaner.

I looked over my shoulder every three steps, keys clutched between my fingers as a makeshift weapon the way women have taught each other.As I approached my car, I checked underneath it, behind it, even in the back seat before unlocking the door and sliding behind the wheel.

Only when I had the doors locked and engine running did I allow myself a full breath.It caught in my throat, morphing into a sob that I quickly swallowed.No time for that now.My hands shook so badly I had to try three times to shift into reverse.

In the rearview mirror, I watched the back door of the diner, half-expecting the Prospect to burst through it at any second.Nothing moved except a stray paper bag tumbling across the lot in the breeze.

I backed out too fast, tires squealing slightly.As I pulled onto the street, I kept my gaze locked on the mirrors, watching for the Prospect’s bike.No sign of him following.Not yet.But they’d found us.Somehow, they’d found us.

My mind raced faster than my car as I sped toward the boys’ school.We needed to move again.We needed help.We needed the Dixie Reapers.

* * *

I ran two stop signs and barely touched my brakes at a third, glanced at the rearview mirror every few seconds.The school was only ten minutes from the diner, but it felt like hours.My knuckles bleached white against the steering wheel as I took a corner too fast, the tires protesting with a squeal that made my already frayed nerves jangle.A Prospect.A fucking Devil’s Minions Prospect in our new town.It wasn’t coincidence.They’d tracked us somehow.

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