Hammer: A Dark Romance

by Loki Renard

  “I’m really sorry that happened to you. Twice, basically. First that woman, now me. No wonder your friends keep looking at me that way.”

  “What way?”

  “Nothing,” she says quickly, before I can get protective. “They’ve been fine. I guess they worry about you.”

  “We all worry about each other,” I tell her. “That’s kind of the deal.”

  “It’s nice that you have that.”

  “These men are blood brothers to me. Any one of us would die for the other. There are some who are no longer with us because that is exactly what they did.”

  * * *

  Jazz

  He has so much pride in his voice. I feel a surge of emotion inside me. This man is so honorable, so incredibly inherently good. I agree with his friends’ silent assessment: he’d be better off without me.

  Maybe it’s not too late to sneak away. Maybe I can just leave the country or something. I’m dead, so crossing the border should be easy. I’ll just ghost it. I bet if I leave one morning, really early, I’ll be able to get back down the mountain in a day. Going down has to be easier than going up, and I’m not worried about getting lost. As long as I go downward, I know I’m going the right way.

  Jake pulls me into a hug and then takes me back to the guys. The deer has been dismembered and is hanging up, a big raw slab of vaguely animal-shaped meat. It doesn’t look appetizing yet, but I’m betting it will be by the time they carve it up and turn it into steaks and... okay, I am hungry.

  I feel awkward and out of place with these men. I can tell they think I’m... well, they don’t exactly think I’m classy. They don’t really talk to me either, not even the younger one, Tristan, who is by far the most outgoing of the group.

  The day passes slowly, each little snub making me all the more determined to get out of here as soon as I can tomorrow. I’ll take the warm coat Jake gave me, and I’ll see if I can grab some of those ration bars. He won’t be happy about this, but once I’m gone, I doubt he’ll be able to find me. I’m going to do what I should have done in the first place. Run.

  Chapter Seven

  I barely sleep, and I wake up early, just as the first slivers of light are coming into the cabin. Moving as quietly as possible, I slip down from the bunk where Jake is snoring softly on the floor, and I sneak outside. Yesterday, I put my coat and some food away around the corner of the cabin. They’re there waiting for me in the low light of a new day.

  I feel awful about this, but I’d feel even worse if I stayed and kept ruining Jake’s life. I’m sure everyone will be relieved to find I’m gone. These guys either ignore me, or stop talking when they notice I’m within earshot. Despite what Jake says, I’m clearly not welcome here. It’s time to go.

  I pull on the jacket and head down toward the tree line, making sure my rations are securely in my pockets.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  It’s not Jake’s voice that interrupts me. It’s Remington’s. He’s barely said a word to me since we met really, but I’ve felt him watching me, judging me behind that dirty blond expanse of hair and beard. His barked question makes me jump. I didn’t think anyone else was up. I definitely didn’t expect to find one of them behind me, standing on the cabin porch with his arms folded over his chest, pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth, salt and pepper hair tousled with the combined factors of sleep and not giving a fuck.

  “I’m just going to get some air.” I almost feel inclined to add sir to the sentence, the way the man barks at me.

  “Sure, sure. You’ll have all the air you need once a mountain cat tears a hole or two in you.”

  “I’m just trying to breathe, is that alright with you?”

  I can hear the attitude in my voice. It’s not pretty. It’s sharp and kind of catty. I know that Jake’s friends don’t deserve this, but I don’t like being caught right on the verge of making the biggest sacrifice I can think of—Jake himself.

  All I need to do is get to some remote law enforcement, in another state, another city, and show them that I’m alive, and all the charges against Jake go away. Well, most of them will, anyway. Rodney will still be hunting me, but it will be harder for him to kill me if my unscheduled return to life is widely publicized. I’ve got this all figured out, even if Jake thinks it is too dangerous. I still don’t know what his plan is. Find the other girls? Maybe. Assuming they’re not all in shallow graves.

  “Go back inside,” Remington says. He speaks to me as if he expects to be obeyed, and I’m not sure I like that. It occurs to me that the three guys here, they don’t treat me like Jake’s girlfriend. They treat me like some kind of green recruit he dragged up here.

  “I’ll go in later.”

  “You’ll go in now.”

  I glare at him, giving him the full force of my stare—the one I used to use on drunk patrons at the bar who started pissing me off.

  “I’m sorry, who died and made you my guardian?”

  “As I hear it, you did. Now get inside, before I take leather to you, girl.”

  My jaw drops. This man isn’t Jake. He has no damn right to talk to me that way, let alone touch me. And yet, I know I’m going to be in a fucking world of trouble with Jake if I curse this guy out like he deserves to be cursed out.

  “No.”

  His bushy face moves in a way that might indicate surprise. I don’t know. These woodsmen disguises they all perpetually wear make it impossible to see what features they have, and reading their facial expressions is almost impossible.

  I take another step away from the cabin. Away from him. What’s this guy going to do anyway? He’s not going to stop me. Nobody can stop me.

  “You know what? I don’t think you’re going to do anything to me. I think you know, just like I do, that Jake will kick your ass if you even think about touching me. I’ve seen how he is when I’m threatened. He’ll break your neck. He’ll tear your arms off! He’ll...”

  “Jazz!”

  Oh, fuck. I freeze and the world stops when Jake’s voice rings out in a sharp, harsh bark behind me. I have no idea how he’s behind me. He must have slipped out of the cabin while I was arguing with Remington and gotten around behind me somehow.

  My feet leave the ground as he fists the back of my shirt and picks me up as if I weigh nothing at all. I scramble to grab onto something solid and come up with nothing but thin air as he sweeps me into the cabin under his arm.

  The other guys are going out as we barrel in, vacating the small room so Jake can have it to tear strips off me. He drops me down on the floor and towers over me, his voice deep with discipline.

  “What the hell were you doing talking to a friend of mine that way?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, I think you do.” Jake looms over me, hands on his hips, a look of disappointment on his face. I fucking hate that expression. It makes me feel small and guilty, and I don’t want to be either of those things.

  “He judges me. He thinks he knows me. He’s like every other guy...”

  “I’m going to stop you there. Because I know him. And he’s not. And I know you, and I know what you were doing.”

  “Well, if you know everything, then why are you asking questions?”

  “I’m giving you a chance to avoid the ass-whipping that’s coming your way.”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  “What about that, girl?”

  “You’re not going to do that to me again.”

  “You’re cute when you’re wrong,” he says, grabbing me up.

  The first time he spanked me, I let him. This time, I fight him. It’s a pointless fight, because he’s obviously far stronger than I am, but I’m not going to let him have this easily. He’s going to have to make me submit, and if he can’t? Then fuck it. I win.

  “Let me fucking go!”

  “No,” he says firmly and flatly. “You’re acting like a brat.”

  In my flailing attempt to get free, I notice that the door o
f the cabin is still open, and Remington hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s standing on the porch with his pipe, and he can see everything.

  That’s the worst part. It’s not just that I’m being pulled over Jake’s thighs, or that his big hand is already meeting my ass with hard, steady swats that make my ass burn. Jesus, he hits like hitting is the only thing he knows how to do. His palm is so fucking huge, and the flat of it meets my legging-clad cheeks with so much sting it’s like the leggings aren’t even there.

  This would be bad enough without an audience. Remington is right there, just a few feet away, and I know the others won’t be far either. Even if they’re not seeing, they’re hearing. Everyone in this little world is aware that Jake is spanking my ass long and hard. He leaves my leggings up, but that doesn’t make a difference. He’s so powerful and the swats are so fast and so stinging that my ass is a ball of pure heat and pain within less than a minute.

  This is probably supposed to teach me something. I’m supposed to feel bad about being rude to Remington, but fuck that. I’m not mad about what I’ve done. I’m mad at him for treating me like someone he has a right to punish. I’m even madder at myself for getting caught. For getting in trouble. For being so fucking sore I know I’m not going to be able to lie on my back tonight in that scratchy, hard bed.

  “You ready to apologize?” He’s stopped, for a second.

  I nod quickly and profusely. There’s no point in trying to hold on to pride. I’m too sore for pride. And there’s no resisting him. He’s too fucking strong and too determined.

  “I’m sorry!”

  “For what?”

  “For being rude!”

  “And?”

  Jesus, what else does he want me to say? I have no fucking idea. In this moment, I hate everything. I was just trying to save him some trouble. I was going to get rid of myself. I can tell that having me around is a damper on the time he spends with his friends.

  “I don’t know what else!”

  “Where were you going?” It’s Remington who speaks now, and the rush of shame is so fucking intense I can barely take it. Can’t he just fucking pretend this isn’t happening? Go off and kill some innocent animal or something?

  “Nowhere...”

  Jake’s hand comes down hard across my ass. “Nowhere?”

  “Just... away! I wanted you to have some fun and not have to worry about me and...”

  He spanks me again, and my words trail off into a squeal.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Jazz?”

  I can’t explain. I’m so embarrassed it goes to the point of humiliation. I know what I am, on the inside, and I can tell they all know what I am too. I’m what Rodney knew I was. I’m disposable. All this trouble Jake is going to is a complete waste of time. He’s too good for me, and any minute now, he is going to realize that.

  I make a soft sobbing sound in lieu of speech. I know how pathetic I will sound if I try to say anything.

  “Get up on your bed,” Jake sighs, letting me go with one last swat that sends me racing up to the top bunk where I lie, facing the wall, keeping as much pressure off my ass as possible, and wishing I’d never been born.

  Jake leaves the cabin and shuts the door. I can hear male voices outside. They’re talking about me.

  * * *

  Jake

  “You know she was going to go running off,” Remington says.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “That little butt tickling isn’t going to do anything. Should take your belt off and use that on her.”

  “I don’t think beating the shit out of her is going to solve her problems,” I say. If I thought it would, I’d beat her ass red, but Jazz isn’t running to be naughty or to get a reaction. She’s doing it because that piece of shit ex made her feel worthless, and now she acts as though she is.

  I’m worried about her. She acts rashly and without logic. I know she’s been through a lot and I know this is a lot to handle, but she has to start calming down and thinking. Running into the woods is the same as throwing yourself off a cliff. She won’t survive it.

  “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” I say to Remington.

  “No problem,” he says, lighting his pipe.

  There’s silence for a bit, in which I try to think, but come up with nothing. I don’t know how to make this better for Jazz or myself.

  “We should kill them,” Remington says.

  “Hm?”

  “Those dirty cops you were talking about last night. We should kill them. Once they’re dead, Jazz turns up alive, and that’s the end of it. You’re off the hook.”

  “Except for three dead cops.”

  “Except for them,” Remington agrees, but without any emotion. His eyes are like two blue stones. When he talks about killing, he just goes cold. Turns to steel. He’s called Remington for a reason, because he knows how to make himself a weapon of death. That’s a necessary trait in a war zone. It’s not so useful at three p.m. in a fast food restaurant, for instance, when some wannabe gangbanger decides to start a fight, and ends up with his brains smeared over the wall thanks to Remington.

  There’s a reason Remington doesn’t go into cities. Warrants. Bounties. A general disdain for the society he helped protect.

  We were all hardened by what we went through on deployments. Even before then, our training made us hard. The idea of killing isn’t abhorrent to us. We know when it is a necessity. But we also know that attitude puts us outside of the civilian bubble. They wanted to put Remington away for that, and a few other incidents, but he decided he’d done enough time for the government and he came out here, where the rules are still simple and survival is all that matters.

  Of all of us, Remington is probably the one who is least able to fit back into the world from which he came. But this trouble Jazz and I are in, it’s a treat for him. I can see him damn near salivating over the idea of going back to the city and handing out his version of justice. I feel the lure too, but I know that’s not how the world works.

  “I thought this shit would be over once we got home,” I say. “This is worse than war. At least in war, you get your orders.”

  “Yep. Here, whatever you do is on you. But it always was. We just took refuge in those orders. It was still us pulling those triggers.”

  He’s right.

  “Should have killed them all in the first place,” I grunt to myself.

  “Nah. You’re a good guy. You don’t want to kill cops.”

  “I didn’t know they were cops. They were just three guys who broke into my place.”

  “Shit happens,” Remington says.

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “You know the boys and I have got your back. We won’t leave you to do it alone.”

  “You’d come down from all the way out here to deal with this with me?”

  I can hear movement nearby. The other two are coming back from the woods. I wonder if they’ve heard what we were talking about, but I don’t have to wonder long.

  “Hell, yeah, we would!” Rock comes out of the woods, an axe over his shoulder, and the other hand dragging a sled filled with wood. Tristan isn’t far behind him with another sled and axe.

  “What would we do?” Tristan asks.

  “Go down and take care of Hammer’s problem.”

  “Oh. Hell, yeah,” Tristan agrees.

  “You’ve got warrants too, boy,” I remind Tristan.

  “They only serve warrants if they catch you, and I don’t intend to get caught,” he grins.

  I look around at the men who are more than brothers to me, and I wonder if it was a mistake to come here. Of course they think going down and killing some bad guys is the answer, but I’m trying my goddamnedest to put aside the part of me that solves everything that way.

  “I can’t risk you guys for this. And someone has to make sure Jazz is safe.”

  “We’ll take her with us,” Remington says.

  I don’t like that idea at all. I want her as far away
from those corrupt cops as possible. This is going to get dangerous. Even more so than it already was when we ran. Every cop in the city will be looking for me. And if she is spotted by any of the crooked guys, then she’s going to be killed on sight.

  “We won’t go in there like idiots, guns blazing. We’ll locate them, and then we’ll take them out. All three of them in one night. We’ll set each of them up, show how fucking corrupt they were. Drug deals, prostitution, whatever. Then, when the heat from that dies down a bit, we’ll have Jazz show up and say look, I’m alive,” Remington grunts. “Easy.”

  Remington was always an operational genius. He risked being relegated up the chain, promoted past the battlefield, but he always refused. He liked the blood. Now, I have to say, his plan sounds solid, but I’m not sure we can get away with military tactics in a civilian city.

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Think quick. They’re coming for her.”

  “I know.”

  All four of us get to work stacking the wood that Rock and Tristan brought up. I like the physical labor. It takes some of the stress out of my muscles and my mind, lets me think a little clearer.

  “Any chance the lady made some lunch?”

  “I’ll make something,” I say. Jazz hasn’t made anything but trouble, and I don’t know if she will. She’s the other element that was never present in our old operations. We didn’t carry a cute girl around with us and attempt to not get her shot. I don’t know how she’ll adapt to a mercenary mission to wipe out her ex, when she can’t barely handle being around the guys now.

  I go inside and check on Jazz. She’s lying on her stomach, her face to the wall. I don’t say anything to her, just get some food ready. If she’s sulking, she can keep sulking.

  “Do you hate me?”

  Her voice comes from the top bunk as I set up some meat, bread, and cheese for the boys.

  “God, no, Jazz.”

  “I just, I feel so fucking bad,” she says, slipping off the bunk. “If I was gone, it would be better for you.”