Page 24 of Hammer

“Your hands are shaking,” he replied, not unkindly.“And you parked in a loading zone.Come on, Mom.”

I surrendered the keys, allowing Chase to guide me to the passenger side while Levi climbed in the back.As soon as the doors closed, Chase turned to me.

“What’s happening, Mom?”His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, just as mine had been.“Is it him?Did Dad find us?”

My throat constricted with the effort of holding back tears.Both my boys watched me -- Chase’s green eyes sharp with worry, Levi’s brown ones steady behind his glasses.They deserved the truth, but not here.Not in an exposed parking lot where anyone could drive past.

“Not yet,” I managed, shaking my head.I wasn’t going to panic them right his minute.“When we get home.Just… drive carefully.Watch for motorcycles.”

Chase’s jaw clenched as he started the car and pulled out of the parking space with precision I hadn’t known he possessed.In the rearview mirror, I could see Levi’s reflection, his face calm but alert, taking in everything.

“Did someone come to the diner?”Levi asked softly from the back seat.

“Later,” I said, eyes scanning the road ahead and behind.“When we’re home.”

Chase took a route I didn’t recognize, making several unexpected turns.I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged.

“Just making sure we’re not followed,” he said.“Tank showed me how to spot a tail.”

Tank.One of the Dixie Reapers.Under different circumstances, I might have been upset that he was learning such things from bikers.Now, I was pathetically grateful.

“Good thinking,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.“You’re doing good, baby.”

Chase’s expression softened slightly at the endearment he usually protested.“We’re okay, Mom.Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

The confidence in his voice nearly broke me.My son, trying to reassure me when it should have been the other way around.I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as we made our way home, each of us scanning the roads for signs of the men I’d spent years trying to escape.

* * *

I fumbled with the keys three times before successfully unlocking our apartment door.Chase gently took them from my still-trembling hands, opened the door, and ushered us inside.The moment we were in, I flipped the deadbolt, slid the chain into place, and secured the extra lock we’d installed our first week here.Still not enough.I moved to each window, checking the locks, drawing the blinds until the room dimmed to a muted gold, dust motes dancing in the narrow strips of sunlight that managed to break through.

“Mom,” Levi said quietly, setting his backpack by the door.“You’re scaring me.”

I paused, trying to compose myself.My boys stood watching me -- Chase with his fists clenched at his sides, Levi with his arms wrapped around himself.I’d promised myself when we left Florida that I wouldn’t let fear rule our lives anymore.Yet here I was, checking window locks for the third time.

“I’m sorry, baby.”I forced my hands to still.“Let’s sit down.”

I moved to the refrigerator first, eyes finding the list of phone numbers stuck to the door.Emergency contacts.Men with road names instead of real ones.Tank.Saint.Hammer.Men who’d helped us escape Florida.Men I’d been both grateful for and wary of.

The boys settled at our small kitchen table, schoolbooks still in their backpacks, forgotten in the rush.Chase pulled out a chair for me, the scrape of its legs against linoleum abnormally loud in the tense silence.

I sat, hands flat on the table to steady them.“I saw a Devil’s Minions Prospect at the diner today,” I said, the words dropping like stones.“He was watching me.”

The effect was immediate.Chase shot to his feet, the chair tipping backward and crashing to the floor.His face flushed with anger, green eyes flashing as his hands curled into fists.

“Fuck,” he spat, the word explosive in our small kitchen.

Levi remained seated, but his face had drained of color, making the light dusting of freckles across his nose stand out in stark relief.His expression remained composed, but I didn’t miss how his fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white with tension.

“Did he follow you?”Levi asked, his voice steady despite the fear I could see in his eyes.

I shook my head.“I don’t think so.I was careful.Went out the back door and watched my mirrors the whole way to your school.”

“Are you sure it was Devil’s Minions?”Levi pressed.“Not just some other MC passing through?”

“I know what I saw.”My voice came out sharper than intended.I softened it.“Black leather cut, red devil’s head with horns, ‘Devil’s Minions’ above it, Florida territory rocker at the bottom.Prospect patch on the front.I lived with those colors for nearly seventeen years, baby.I know them.”

Chase paced our tiny kitchen, five steps one way, five steps back, like a caged animal.He’d grown so tall in the past year, his movements reminding me painfully of Piston when he’d been younger, before the drugs and alcohol had bloated him.

---