Hammer: A Dark Romance

by Loki Renard

  The car starts to bump over uneven terrain. It’s a sickening feeling down here, but that tells me that we’re off the main roads, and when I start to feel myself sliding back toward the rear of the car, that tells me we’re going uphill.

  I pop my head up and risk looking at Jake, who still has a gun in his hand, a pistol now, more practical for short range work, I guess.

  “Did we... just... did we get away with that?”

  “Depends what you mean by get away with,” Remington growls from the front. “Are we alive? Yep. Are we more wanted than ever, sure. Are those bastards dead now, uh huh. Tristan, pull over. Let’s dump this car in the ravine and head out on foot.”

  As soon as the car stops, I jump out, wrap my arms around Jake’s neck and hold on to him so fucking tight.

  “We’re alive!”

  * * *

  Jake

  I hold her, worried that what we did might just have broken her completely. She was on the edge after Rodney, and now she’s been shot at, become an outlaw, ostracized from society, nearly died. And it’s still not over. We’re going to have to get back to the cabin, or make a new camp. It’s going to take time, and it’s not going to be easy.

  “That was fun!” Her eyes are bright with joy. “I felt bad for Rodney before, but now I don’t. I mean fuck that guy!”

  It’s adrenaline. Sheer joy at surviving. I’ve felt the rush of it before and I know how powerful it can be. I also know how hard it can make you crash. Jazz’s feelings are complicated. She’s not made the way we are. She wanted to be soft, even when she had to be hard. I hope that this hasn’t destroyed the parts of her that makes her who she is, because this wide-eyed, beaming little maverick is not the Jazz I know.

  * * *

  Jazz

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t fix this for you,” he says, his eyes full of sorrow. “I’m sorry you can’t go back to your life. There’s no way we can be seen in the city now, or even the state.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Excuse me?” He probably can’t help the stern note in his tone. It’s a habit he’s developed over the past couple of months.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and smile against his lips. “I don’t want to go back to my old life. I don’t want to go back there, to a world where we are the bad guys, and Rodney gets a fucking memorial. Fuck everyone else. I’m staying out here.”

  He gives me the tightest hug, his arms wrapped around me so snugly I let out a little squeak.

  “I’d do it any day for you, baby. I’d make this whole country run rivers of blood if it meant keeping you safe.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I say with a smirk.

  “Come on, lovers!” Remington calls out. “We gotta get going.”

  “Take the gas,” Jake says, getting back into survival mode. “We might need it. Put it in one of those jerrycans. Dump the water. There’s plenty up here.”

  Tristan and Rock move to do as he says. In minutes, they strip everything that might be of use from the car, strap it to their packs, and we are on our way back into the mountains, retreating to our lair.

  We move quickly, and unlike previous times, I have no trouble keeping up. Could be adrenaline, could be that the weeks in the mountains have made me harder. Stronger. Could be I keep imagining cops on our tail, and I don’t want to be caught by them.

  Today I’m up at the head of the pack, ahead of Remington even. I scurry up the mountain that now feels like home. The forest welcomes us back with flowering bushes and birdsong, and the complete isolation and wildness only it can offer. They might come after us, but there’s no way to trace us now. We lost the tail. We’re never going back to the world that rejected us, while embracing the sick fuckers who tried to kill me. If we show our faces anywhere beside the wilds, they’re going to have men with cuffs and guns looking for us. But I don’t care. Jake has ripped me out of my world and thrown me into the wild. He has replaced nightclubs and partiers with a cabin and stoic men who all watch over me, each in their own way. He is the only reason I draw breath, and I will spend the rest of my life showing him how much I love him for all that he is and all that he has allowed me to be.

  * * *

  Twenty-four hours later...

  He’s inside me. Deep inside me. His cock fills me, stretches me, claims me. I am the prize for everything he has done for me, my body is tribute to him and he takes me with rough passion, one hand on my neck, the other on my breast, my legs spread wide as I lie back on the bed and he pounds me hard. We fuck every day. Sometimes I don’t know if it is the animal lust we can’t contain, or if it’s because it’s the one way we can both forget everything that has happened. There’s something desperate in the way we cling to each other, joining over and over again as if we’re secretly terrified we might one day be torn apart.

  Jake’s hands slide down to my hips, arch them up so he can plunge himself deeper, easing his powerful hips and thighs back and then driving forward, spreading my wet walls time and time again, the head of his cock penetrating and then leaving me empty.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” he grunts, pulling out so the head of his cock is just inside my pussy, keeping it there until I start to whimper and squirm.

  “Stay still,” he growls. I know he’s making a point, trying to discipline me sexually, but I want his cock back inside me. I need it. I try to lift my hips up, greedy for more, but he pins me down, one hand spread wide across my lower belly, and he pulls his cock all the way out.

  “Put it back!” I whimper.

  “No,” he growls, rubbing his palm over my pussy. “Now settle down or you’re going to get a spanking.”

  “Pffft... Ow!” I gasp as his fingers swat my cunt lightly.

  He grins down at me, pleased with himself. “I warned you.”

  “That’s not nice,” I whimper.

  “You’ve got to learn to be a good girl, Jazz, especially when I’m fucking you. You’ve got to give me your pussy like I want to have it.”

  Every word he says makes my cunt clench with need. He’s so fucking hot, so completely dominant. His eyes sear down into mine, two bright jewels of intensity, and I know I’m going to have to be a good girl, even though I’ve always been a bad one.

  * * *

  Jake

  She’s been a handful since we got out of the city. Not sure why, but I know she’s been pushing every limit and boundary there is. Sex is as good a time as any to lay the law down, let her know I’m still in charge. I rub her pussy, pinch that cute little clit of hers lightly, then swat her lips again before pushing back inside her. God, she’s fucking hot and tight and perfect. She’s absolutely beautiful.

  I allow myself a few strokes before pulling out again, making her wait for my dick. This time she’s a good girl and I don’t have to spank her naughty pussy. I praise her as I slip my cock back inside her, feel her inner walls grip me with the sexy desperation she’s always had for me.

  Fuck, yes. She’s mine. She’s finally all fucking mine. And nothing is ever going to take her from me again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jazz

  I thought I could escape my past. I thought we had escaped when our vehicle went flying over the roads and through the bushes and into the forest and we all ran into the depths. I drank freedom in every single breath, and when we got back out into the mountains, I thought it was over.

  But it wasn’t.

  Three days after our escape, I woke up with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that wouldn’t go away. I thought it would pass, but it didn’t, and two weeks on, it persists, this weight that tells me there is something wrong, always.

  The guys have split up. Tristan and Rock headed out to another location early on, leaving Remington, Jake, and me at the big cabin. I don’t blame them for wanting to get the hell away from me, or us. Remington keeps himself at a distance, going out fishing, hunting. We hardly see him. And that’s a good thing. It leaves Jake and me t
o just be together. It also makes it much harder to hide how much I’m struggling.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake wraps his arms around my belly and nuzzles his fuzzy face against my neck. It’s a sunny morning, remarkably warm given the fact winter is upon us, and I’m standing out on the porch of the place, my hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, a blanket over my shoulders, my feet clad in fur boots. I’m all wrapped up against the elements, but there’s still this little cold thing inside me that drains the joy I know I should be feeling.

  “Nothing,” I say, forcing a smile. “It’s a really nice day.”

  It’s more than nice. It’s glorious. The sun shines bright on this unblemished land, trees and mountains and rivers, all so remote that they’re effectively ours. Remington and Jake have settled back into the rhythm of their old life so perfectly it’s like they never left it, but I don’t have a rhythm to settle into. I have this weird emptiness inside me that is worse for the fact that it shouldn’t be there. I have everything I could want. A man who loves me. Men who will kill to protect me. I have a beautiful life ahead of me, but I can’t really feel it, and I don’t understand why.

  “Okay, I’m going to grab some breakfast, then Remington and I are going to see if we can get a deer.” He squeezes me and gives me a kiss on the cheek, a sweet, intimate gesture that momentarily melts the bad thing inside me, but it crystalizes as soon as he pulls away from me. I curse myself inwardly. Why can’t I just be happy? There’s something wrong with me. Something that must have been wrong all along. I bet Rodney saw it.

  Every time I look out across the scenery, I feel a sense of impending doom. I know it’s stupid. I know we’re safe now. Jake and Remington have both told me that the weather means there’s no way the law is coming for us this time of year. But what about after this time of year? When does this really end?

  I grab one of the books Remington has sitting around. The cabin has a really eclectic range of outdated reading material, from classics to penny romances. I go for a romance about a baron who courts the daughter of a pig farmer. I’m free, but I still need to escape.

  * * *

  Jake

  “That girl is going downhill,” Remington grunts at me. We’re heading out on the hunt, leaving Jazz up at the cabin. I don’t like leaving her alone, but we won’t be long. If we don’t find a trail pretty quick, I’m going to head back. Hunting in winter is hard enough without dragging an unwilling participant along, and she’s better off staying warm up at the cabin.

  I’m surprised when Remington comments on her. “Jazz? She’s just quiet.”

  I glance back over my shoulder to where she’s curled up on a bench on the porch, swathed in blankets, but making the most of the thin winter sun, her head buried in some old book Remington must have packed up here years ago.

  “She’s crashing,” he grunts. “She saw too much.”

  “She’s tougher than you think.”

  “Crashing doesn’t have anything to do with how tough someone is,” he says. “I saw plenty of guys go down, toughest sons of bitches there were. I’ve skimmed the water a time or two myself. You keep an eye on her, or she’ll go under.”

  He’s being dramatic. Everything is better now. I fixed it for us both. Jazz just needs some quiet time to herself to let things settle. We mostly kept her out of the worst of it. Except, I guess, at the very end. I never liked the part of the plan that put her face to face with the monster who hunted her. It was our job to keep her safe, not use her like a worm on a hook for a thing of nightmares. But he’s dead now. Very dead. I took that son of a bitch apart so completely there’s no man or god who could put him back together.

  I can’t get Remington’s words out of my head though, and the further we get away from the cabin, the more I start to worry. It takes me about an hour to bring it up, but eventually I do.

  “You really think she’s going to...”

  Remington stops and rests his rifle against a tree. Our boots are sinking into several inches of crisp snow. There’s no deer around here. This time of year, you can pick a trail a quarter mile away, little indentations on the snow tell you what’s around. There’s nothing here.

  “I think that girl is trouble,” he says, striking a match to light one of the cigarettes he’s supposed to have quit. I guess he resupplied when we were down in the city. “And I think she ain’t been in any for weeks. She’s not herself.”

  “She just needs time.”

  “Maybe,” he puffs, his breath rising with the smoke he exhales all the way to the heavens. For a few minutes we just stand there, breathing cold air, me misted in his secondhand smoke, trying to work out if he’s right. I don’t know. Truth is, Jazz and I still have a lot of getting to know you to do. We’re yet to experience normal yet, whatever that might mean for either one of us. She has been quiet, I guess. Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t like the idea that I’ve missed something Remington has noticed.

  “What the fuck is that?” Remington interrupts my overthinking with a curse, and points downhill to a distant ridge.

  I follow the line of his finger, squinting at what looks like a small line of black ants. I grab the binoculars from my hunt bag and train them on whatever it is.

  “People,” I say.

  “Law enforcement?”

  I pull the binoculars away to look at Remington. I don’t want to say yes, even though they are wearing the bright HiVis law enforcement seems to favor. “They have to be thirty miles away, and if it was law enforcement, they’d be using a helicopter. They’re not going to send people out to freeze looking for us.”

  Literally no sooner do those words leave my mouth than I hear the thudding of a chopper in the distance. Remington and I stare at each other wordlessly. We both know how fucking bad this is. That sound is like the sound the sword of Damocles makes as it falls.

  “I guess they really want us, huh?” Remington exhales the words with exaggerated casualness.

  “They might not be looking for us. There’s no way they trailed us. We’ve had some heavy snows. There’s no tracks to follow...”

  “Not unless they got the boys.”

  “Rock? Tristan? They wouldn’t tell anyone about this place.”

  “They might if they didn’t have a choice.” Remington is so fucking calm. I guess I seem to be outwardly as well, but on the inside I’m boiling over.

  “Shouldn’t have let them go if they were a worry.”

  “Not their jailer, and they’d done enough,” Remington says. Again I agree with him. The guys put their lives on the line to help us. We couldn’t ask them for any more, and I don’t think they would ever have told a soul about us. Not even if they were made to. Every single one of us has undergone interrogation training. We don’t crack easy. Definitely not for cops.

  “That fucking helicopter isn’t going away,” I say, glancing up. The bird is a black spot in the sky, circling not quite over our exact location, but definitely scouting our area.

  “So what’s it going to be,” Remington says. “Another shootout with the law? Or you want to run again?”

  “Can we run? Where the fuck would we go?”

  A moment or two later, that whole conversation becomes completely moot. The helicopter has spotted something. Not us. The cabin.

  “It’s going down!” Remington starts heading in that direction, fast.

  He’s right. It is going down and right over the fucking cabin, where Jazz is alone. She’s not going to know what to do. She might not even know that she’s in danger. She’s going to be sitting out front with nothing but blankets and a book to protect her, and there’s no fucking way we can get back to her in time.

  I have never, in all my life, felt as completely helpless as I do right now, watching that black bird slide out of view, knowing where it is going, and to who.

  There’s no more talking. Remington and I run fast as we can for the cabin. I start to pull ahead almost immediately, turn back to look at him, but he waves me on. Usually we’d sta
y as a pack, but Jazz is alone right now, and Remington can protect himself better in the woods than she can anywhere.

  I run up the hills, blood pumping, heart pounding, thoughts racing. If they’ve fucking touched her... my entire body is taken over by an aggressive growl. The chopper is down now. Every second I’m not there is another second that they have her.

  I thought I was done killing cops. I guess not.

  It takes way too long to reach camp. I thought we hadn’t gone far, but an hour’s walk downhill is more an hour’s run uphill, even under the kind of stress I’m under. But I don’t care. I’ll keep running if my lungs start fucking bleeding. There’s only one thing I don’t want to hear. One sound I couldn’t take.

  Thud Thud Thud Thud

  No! Fuck, no! The helicopter is taking off again, rising into the sky and I’m still at least fifteen minutes away from getting back. I stop, panting, damn near fucking dying from exertion, my breath emerging from my body in great white puffs as I look up at the helicopter that I fear is going to take Jazz a very, very long way from me. Is she in there? Is she cuffed between two men who think she’s one of us? Is she going to wear the charges for everything that happened down in the city?

  That would be bad enough. That would be enough to break my fucking heart. But then it gets worse. I see a plume of smoke. I know we haven’t left the fire going. It’s like a smoke signal to anyone who might be looking for someone.

  But maybe it’s Jazz. Maybe she’s signaling me? As I watch, the plume turns gray. That’s not a wood-smoke fire. That’s rubber and other manmade materials. Like stuff we have inside our cabin.

  “Please fucking no,” I curse, starting to run again. I don’t know how I make it back to the cabin. It’s a blacked-out blur of lactic acid and rage, but I finally get over the last ridge and race over to the building.

  “Jazz!” I scream her name.

  The whole place has been fucking wrecked. The cabin is on fire, or at least one room and part of the roof is. The bastards did a shitty job of burning the place down, or Remington and the boys did a good job on the fire retardation. Whatever it is, the flames are having trouble getting a hold. I gram armfuls of snow to try to put it out, dragging cinders and carbon ice slush through the house.