Page 36 of Hammer

“What will you tell them?”she asked.

“The truth,” I replied.“That you’re under my protection now.That anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me.”I paused.“The details of our arrangement stay between us.”

She nodded, relief evident in the slight tremble of her exhale.“Thank you, Hammer.”

Those simple words of gratitude hit harder than they should have.I wasn’t used to being thanked for doing what needed to be done.I looked away, uncomfortable with the naked appreciation in her eyes.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I muttered.“You might regret signing up with a grumpy old biker.”

She shook her head.“I know what I’m getting into.”

Did she?Did either of us?My stomach knotted with conflicting emotions -- relief that she still wanted this arrangement despite my blunt honesty, worry about what I was committing to, and an unexpected flutter of something that felt dangerously like anticipation.

I was sixty-one years old, had seen too much, done too much.I’d long ago accepted that my remaining years would be spent alone except for occasional visits from Aura and Sam.Assuming Aura ever moved out.Now suddenly I had an instant family -- a woman and two teenage boys with their own set of trauma and baggage.

If Satan himself had appeared and offered me a deal like this a week ago, I’d have told him to go fuck himself.Yet here I stood, agreeing to it all, because something in Amelia’s determined brown eyes made me want to be the man she needed me to be.

The sudden rustling from the bushes near the porch shattered our moment of understanding.My body tensed instantly, decades of survival instincts kicking in before my brain could process the sound.I moved without thinking, positioning myself between Amelia and the potential threat, my hand automatically reaching for the gun that wasn’t there -- I’d left it inside, not expecting trouble in our own compound.

“Stay behind me,” I growled, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

Amelia froze, her eyes widening as they fixed on the dancing shadows beneath the ornamental shrubs that lined my porch.The rustling came again, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a muffled curse.

“Who’s there?”I demanded, moving toward the edge of the porch, every sense on high alert.My mind raced through possibilities -- a Prospect overstepping boundaries, one of Piston’s men somehow breaching our security, an animal.But animals didn’t swear.

No answer came, but the bushes trembled slightly.I descended the three wooden steps with deliberate slowness, my feet making no sound on the weathered boards.Years in prison had taught me to move silently when needed, to approach threats without telegraphing my intentions.

“Hammer --” Amelia started, her voice tight with apprehension.

I held up one hand, signaling her to stay put.The security lights cast long shadows across the yard, but the area beneath the bushes remained stubbornly dark.As I approached, I caught the faintest gleam of something reflective -- metal, or maybe glass.

In one swift motion, I lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of branches and yanking them aside to reveal the source of the disturbance.Two figures huddled in the shadows, caught in the act of eavesdropping.

“What the actual fuck?”I snarled, recognizing them immediately.

Atlas crouched closest to me, his lanky frame folded awkwardly in the dirt, a pair of earbuds dangling around his neck.Beside him, Lavender kneeled in the mulch, her purple-streaked hair instantly recognizable even in the dim light.Wire’s kid and his mother, of all people.

“Hey, Hammer,” Atlas said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.“Nice night, huh?”

“Don’t ‘nice night’ me, boy,” I growled, anger surging through me.“What the hell are you doing hiding in my bushes?”

Lavender at least had the decency to look embarrassed, a flush creeping up her neck as she brushed dirt from her knees.“We were just passing by,” she offered lamely.

“With listening devices?”I pointed to the small directional microphone partially hidden in Atlas’s jacket.

“Research project,” Atlas tried, the lie so transparent it would have been comical under different circumstances.

I reached down, grabbed the front of his shirt, and hauled him to his feet.“Try again.”

Atlas’s easy smile faltered under my glare.“Okay, okay.We might have been… gathering intel.”

“Eavesdropping,” I corrected flatly.

“Such a harsh word,” Atlas muttered.

Behind me, I heard Amelia’s sharp intake of breath as she realized what was happening.I glanced back to see her standing rigid on the porch, her face flushing dark with embarrassment as she processed how much of our private conversation these two might have overheard.

“Inside,” I ordered, releasing Atlas’s shirt with a small shove toward the steps.“Both of you.”

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