Page 56 of Hammer

I said nothing, but something in my expression must have confirmed his suspicions.His hand shot out, gripping my jaw with bruising force, fingers digging into my cheeks.

“You stupid bitch,” he hissed.“You think you can just replace me?That my boys will call some other man ‘Dad’?”

“They never called you that,” I said, the words muffled by his grip but clear enough to hit their mark.At least, not to his face they hadn’t.“Not once.Not even when they were little.”

The truth of it seemed to slice through him.I saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes before rage consumed it.His free hand closed into a fist, drawing back as his weight pinned me against the car door.

“I’m going to remind you of your place,” he growled.“Then we’re going to get my boys, and you’re going to wish you’d never --”

The sound cut through the night air like thunder -- a motorcycle engine, deep and powerful, growling in the distance but rapidly approaching.Relief crashed through me so intensely my knees nearly buckled.I knew that engine, knew its distinctive rumble that always announced Hammer’s arrival at home.

Piston’s head snapped toward the sound, his grip on me loosening just enough that I could wrench my face free.The motorcycle rounded the corner of the building, headlight slicing through the darkness, illuminating us in its path before the bike came to an abrupt stop.

Hammer.

He dismounted in one fluid motion that belied his age, his imposing figure silhouetted against the streetlight behind him.In the artificial glow of the diner sign, his silver hair and beard seemed to glow with an otherworldly aura.

“Let her go.”His voice carried across the parking lot, low and even, yet somehow more threatening than if he’d shouted.

Piston’s grip tightened on my arm, his body tensing like a predator scenting competition.“This is a private conversation,” he called back.“Between me and my wife.”

“I was never your wife,” I corrected, earning another painful squeeze.

Hammer moved toward us, each step measured and deliberate.There was nothing rushed in his approach, nothing that betrayed panic or uncertainty.Just the steady advance of a man who knew exactly what he was capable of.I’d seen him gentle with Aura, patient with my boys, careful with me -- but this was different.This was the Hammer who had survived decades in a one-percenter club, who had done prison time, who commanded respect with his mere presence.

“Take your hands off my wife,” Hammer stated, stopping a few yards away, his voice calm but lined with steel.

My heart stuttered at the word -- wife.Not old lady.Not woman.Wife.Claimed openly, definitively, without qualification.

“Your wife?”Piston’s voice dripped with mockery.He looked down at me, then back at Hammer.“This is what you settled for?Some silver-haired grandpa who probably can’t even get it up without those little blue pills?”His grip loosened on my arm as his attention shifted fully to Hammer.“Tell me, old timer, does she fake it for you like she did for me?”

Something dangerous flashed in Hammer’s eyes -- a cold fury so controlled it was somehow more frightening than Piston’s volatile rage.He took a single step forward.

“You don’t talk about her like that,” he said quietly.

Piston’s smirk widened.“Hit a nerve?I’m just looking out for her satisfaction, man.She likes it rough, likes to be put in her place.You got the strength left for that?Or are you too busy taking your heart medication --”

Hammer moved so quickly I barely registered the shift.One moment he was standing still, the next his fist connected with Piston’s jaw with a sickeningcrackthat echoed across the empty parking lot.Piston staggered backward, releasing me completely as he struggled to keep his balance.

I pressed myself against the car, breath coming in shallow pants, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before me.Hammer positioned himself between Piston and me, his broad back creating a wall of protection.

“You nearly broke my fucking jaw!”Piston spat, blood dribbling down his chin.

“Not close enough,” Hammer replied calmly.“But I’m considering it.”

Piston steadied himself, touching his jaw gingerly before his eyes narrowed with hatred.“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, old man.I’ve got an entire club behind me.”

“And I’ve got mine,” Hammer said, not bothering to raise his voice.“Difference is, I don’t need them to handle you.”

Piston’s eyes darted from Hammer to me, then back again.Something calculating entered his expression.“She tell you about our boys?About how they’ve got my blood, my name?”

I wasn’t about to correct him on the name part.I’d never given my children his name since we weren’t married, and he hadn’t bothered to show up when they were born.But bringing that up would only anger him more.

“They have her heart,” Hammer countered.“Her strength.Nothing worthwhile from you.”

The words struck me like physical blows -- not painful, but powerful enough to take my breath away.I’d never heard Hammer speak like this, never witnessed this fierce protection wrapped in such simple truth.

“You think you can just step in and play daddy?”Piston sneered, though I noticed he kept his distance now.“Those are my sons.Mine.”

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