Hammer (Regulators MC Book 2)

by Chelsea Camaron

Sure, my dick gets hard … science and all that bullshit. The minute I move my hands to the wheels on my chair to move, though, nothing is hard anymore. The reminder of my immobility is more than a buzz kill … It is a life kill.

  Everything about my life has changed, and not for the better.

  Sure, I may walk again in time. The doctors are hopeful. Prognosis is good. Oh, how everyone loves to tell me that one.

  Running, working—those are still questionable.

  Traveling—that is one cruel joke now. A metal screw holds me together. Yeah, those airport security people will love me. Wheelchair or no wheelchair, if I see one airport security guy pull on a latex glove while looking at me, I’m going to jail for a whole lot of different reasons than setting off some damn alarms.

  The therapist spouts off about the healing process emotionally. Seriously, if my dick would stay hard, I would tell the fucker to suck it and shove all these emotions up his ass. However, my dick won’t work right, and since I’m apparently growing a pussy, I will tell him my emotions.

  Hatred.

  Anger.

  Disgust.

  There ya go, doc. Choke on those.

  Part of me is glad I’m stuck here at this rehabilitation center and not at home. I don’t want my brothers to see me like this. They still come to visit me, but they aren’t here long enough to see me struggle just to go to the bathroom or when I need help to bathe myself. Even if I do get my legs back, I will never want another woman in the shower with me again. Being helpless enough to have broads help wash me has cured me of that particular sexual enjoyment.

  What I wouldn’t do for a beer and my recliner right now. Instead, I’m living in this sterile room for the time being without the comforts of home. The one time Ice tried to sneak in a couple of beers, the nurse sniffed that shit out as soon as I popped the tab on the can.

  Jesus. I worked with military K-9s who couldn’t sniff out bombs or drugs as fast as that bitch caught my beer. I’m usually not one to believe in any sort of abnormal or paranormal things, but I keep an eye on that particular nurse now. I swear she has super powers or some shit. Yeah, I’m keeping an eye on Nurse Nosey now because I don’t trust that bitch and her super sniffer.

  The sound of a knock on my door pulls me out of my thoughts. I look over to see the super powers nurse walk into my room. I watch her with narrowed, suspicious eyes as she saunters in, writes something up on the board, and then walks over to make my bed.

  The sight of her doing the simple task only irritates me. When I bother to make my bed back home, it took me all of thirty seconds. Now, if I bother to try, it takes ten minutes. I want to put my hands around Nurse Nosey’s neck and wring it.

  Not wanting her in my space, I snap, “Leave my bed the fuck alone.”

  I may not be happy about being here, and this might just be a pseudo hospital room, but it is my fucking room. I don’t like her coming in and messing with shit that is supposed to be my space.

  My gruff command doesn’t faze her. She simply steps away from my bed, gives me the evil eye, and puts her fists on her hips in irritation.

  “Somebody’s grouchy again today, Mr. McCoy,” she says in a feigned sweet voice.

  “A man might be less grouchy if you didn’t take his beer away.”

  “Too bad for you,” she responds.

  Walking back over to my board, she points at the schedule the doctor and nurses have written down for me. “Your physical therapist says you can handle a longer workout now, so he’s moving your session to two o’clock. That gives you an extra thirty minutes. Make sure you meet him in the gym on time.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I growl, “Don’t worry about me gettin’ there on time, woman. I’m going to my appointment so that I’m one step closer to walkin’ out of this place as fast as fuckin’ possible.”

  Nurse Nosey gives me a genuine smile. “I’m glad to hear that, Mr. McCoy.”

  She turns to walk out of the room, but before she clears the door, I make sure I have the last word.

  “I’ll be glad to have you choke on your words and my dick.”

  ~Desirae~

  “How ya holdin’ up, Des?” Sass asks gently, bringing me a bottled water to the couch.

  “Suffocating.” I sigh. “I know this is to keep me safe, but the walls feel like they’re closing in.”

  Tank set me up in one of the Hellions’ duplexes in the back. The duplexes are behind the clubhouse and within the gates of the compound, so I’m as safe as I could ever get. He put me in what Sass calls his ‘Cave of Coming.’ Someone was apparently always coming to this duplex, both to visit and because he used to be a man-whore. Thankfully, I was assured I am sleeping on a new bed.

  Learning this about Tank only reminds me that I don’t know much about him before he got shot and ended up in a coma. The man I know now is completely devoted to the redheaded vixen sitting next to me.

  I am completely miserable.

  “You gotta know, Desirae, the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Bikers have a code they live by. You’re family, and we’ll keep you safe. It’s not always easy, but it’s necessary.”

  “I know that. Really, I do.” Tears fill my eyes, and Sass reaches over to squeeze my hand. “I wish I knew what kind of trouble Suzie was in. I wish I knew who the people—” I sob, letting the tears fall yet again.

  “The boys are gonna find out who did this, Des.”

  I know Sass is trying to make me feel better, but it only makes it worse. My mind is running on a constant loop of watching my sister being murdered. I’m starting to wonder if I will ever be able to close my eyes without seeing her bloody and pleading with me to run away. I can’t sleep; I don’t want to eat; and every little noise I hear sends me into a panic, afraid my sister’s killers have somehow found me.

  What is worse, I didn’t get a chance to lay my sister to rest. Leaving the task to my parents makes me feel like I have abandoned Suzie. They barely took care of us in life, so why should they be the ones who get to say good-bye to her while I run for my life? It should be me who gets to say that good-bye, not them.

  Because of this, I am filled with a renewed bitterness toward my mother and father. I’m not sure I will ever be able to forgive them for finally stepping up to take care of my Suzie when her life was over. I already know I will never be able to forgive myself for realizing too late that she needed my help.

  I cover my face with my hands as I wonder for what must be the millionth time, Why didn’t you tell me that you were in trouble, sweet Suzie Sunshine?

  The front door opens, and I jerk my head up to see Tank walk in with Roundman, the Hellions club prez.

  Sass gets up and greets her man, who then practically consumes her in a sloppy and loud kiss.

  I turn my head, feeling like I’m intruding on a private moment between them.

  “Cut that shit out, you two,” Roundman barks at them.

  They make their way into the living room where Sass sits back down beside me while the men pace around the room.

  “I’m gonna cut to the chase,” Roundman starts. “Anthony Ricca, sound familiar? Antoney? Tony? Any of those sound familiar?”

  I shake my head, and Roundman rubs his goatee as he thinks. Tank watches me as if I should know this name.

  “Your sister”—Roundman looks at me—“you know who she was fuckin’?”

  My mouth drops open in shock. Sure, Suzie and I talked. We talked about sex even, but I never thought about who she slept with.

  “She started dating a guy. For a while, it seemed pretty serious.” I pause, thinking about what Suzie told me of her man. “She was smitten.”

  “You got a name?”

  Taking a moment, I think back. “Nino. She called him Nino. She never told me his last name. See, the first few dates, he was a perfect gentleman: said the right stuff, did the right things, total swoon worthy, as Suzie would say. Then he got pushy. That’s all she
told me.”

  Roundman looks at Tank, and they share some unspoken conversation as I sit back, baffled.

  “How long ago was that?” Tank asks, still watching Roundman.

  “Three months before she came to see me, give or take a week or two.”

  “Nino Ricca is Anthony Ricca, great grandson to Luciano Ricca, head of the Chicago Ricca crime family. This is bad news, Desirae. We’ve gotta make some calls. Last word was Ricca tied himself to a man named Wellington. Nino Ricca might be related to big crime, but from what we understand so far, he wasn’t all that big himself yet. He was still working his way up the chain in the family mob business, and one of his moves to impress his Don was forging a working relationship with the major supplier of designer drugs in the area. That’s where Wellington came in.

  “He’s a totally different story, an old-money type of man who never had enough, so he made himself a kingpin on the Chicago streets by dealing in pharmaceuticals. Maybe more. We’re still digging to find more info on both Ricca and Wellington. We’ll sort this out,” Roundman states, stepping out.

  Tank shakes his head and remains silent. Sass sits with me as I take pause to reflect on what all of this could mean. Was Suzie tied to something with the Ricca family? How pushy was he?

  I look up at the ceiling and begin to count the popcorn puffs to myself as I try to slow my thoughts. We never had secrets growing up. Now I’m worried my little sister may have had a whole life I knew nothing about.

  There is a knock on the door, taking me out of my reverie. Tank answers it, and there are two bikers from Catawba I have come to know as Tripp and Shooter. They all greet in the man half-hug, back slap thing they do, and Sass gets up to give each man a hug of her own. I stand and simply brush my hands down my jeans nervously.

  Shooter looks at me, holding a black box. “Desirae,” he pauses.

  I nod, not understanding the box.

  “We … umm, brought your sister to you.”

  I stare at the unmarked container, and something inside me snaps. I can’t bring myself to reach out and hold it.

  Collapsing to my knees, I sob uncontrollably. My parents didn’t want to pay for Suzie to have a funeral. I had already been informed of my parents plan to cremate her. I wasn’t prepared for the Hellions to step in and bring my sister to me, though.

  After mourning her, thinking I wouldn’t be able to truly give her peace and put her to rest, she’s here. In that very box, she’s here … with me.

  A dark part of me wishes I were there with her, instead.

  Chapter

  6

  ~Hammer~

  “You shouldn’t cage a beast,” I state to the air around me.

  “I never did play nice with others,” Evan mutters as he enters my room. “Angry today, big bro?”

  Shooting my little brother a killer glare, I grudgingly murmur, “Something like that.”

  I want to beat the ever-loving fuck out of something, anything. I want to feel more than the pain in my legs. I want to feel more than the agony of being trapped by my own fucking broken body.

  Since Evan got clean, he has bulked up. As long as I didn’t fuck up his face, he would make a damn good sparring partner. He is a muscled up pretty boy with a tan and dimples, his blond hair short and spiked. All of it keeps the women throwing dollars all night long. I’m glad he’s got something going for him. I sure as hell don’t anymore.

  Evan studies me. “You all right?”

  I want to throw something, but I can’t.

  New story of my life: I can’t do shit.

  It is Evan, though; I can be real with him.

  “No.”

  “Ethan—”

  “No,” I cut him off. “Fuck this. Don’t you Ethan me! When you have to have a sponge bath and need help wiping your own fucking ass, then you can talk to me.” Not liking the look across his face, I point a finger at him, trying to convey that, if I really wanted to get up and kick his ass, I could somehow. “Don’t you fucking pity me. Don’t you dare!”

  He looks at me, his expression never changing. “I get it.”

  Rage builds.

  “The hell you do! I feel like a trapped animal. Broken. Helpless. Half a fucking man.” I throw my hands up in the air.

  My baby brother, my best friend, the one person who knows everything looks at me … and smirks. It makes me want to beat him even more. Cocky bastard.

  “Dick work?”

  I have had enough. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

  He steps over to my hospital bed. “Or what?” he goads like when we were kids.

  “I’ll fuck you up so badly our own mother won’t even recognize you.”

  He laughs. The motherfucker laughs.

  I swing my legs to the edge of the bed. My hip burns from the inside out, reminding me I’m not healed.

  I am not okay.

  He leans in, face-to-face with me. “Let it out, man. You’ve gotta grieve.”

  How dare he act like he knows what I need to do!

  “I don’t gotta do one damn thing. You need to go.”

  He pushes back away from me and crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t mean it.”

  “The fuck I do!”

  When he pulls a chair to my bed like he plans to stay a while, I want nothing more than to kick the legs out from under it.

  Well, if he is not going to listen, then I might as well not talk.

  An hour later, Evan is still sitting quietly by my bed.

  I glare at him.

  “Seriously, Ethan, tell me what I can do. I feel helpless over here.”

  I laugh sarcastically. “Well, baby bro, that makes two of us.” I sigh. “I need to get out of this place.”

  “That’s a start.” He smiles, and my anger calms down.

  “It’s not home. I’m not living here; I’m existing. I feel like I’m in prison. I’m a number on a chart with three hots and a cot.”

  Evan laughs freely, which makes me smile.

  “I doubt prison has female nurses with big titties to give you a sponge bath. Last I heard, you want to make sure your soap’s on a rope when you go to the big house.”

  “Name a nurse here with big titties and ass.”

  He pauses, thinking it over.

  “Exactly. I’m trapped in a bed with Bertha butch coming to wash me while my nose can’t smell a damn thing beyond antiseptic. The food is worse than fucking chow hall grub. I’d happily choke down an MRE over the shit they are serving.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “That bad?”

  I simply growl. Yeah it is that bad. I am a man who used to run eight miles a day and drink a twelve pack a night. I can disarm an enemy with one hand. I face fear head on, yet I am trapped in place by my own damn body.

  ~~~

  It takes some pull from the Regulators, but five months after the accident I manage to be discharged finally. There are stipulations, of course. Ice and Coal promised to take care of the details. As long as it doesn’t mean Big Jim giving me sponge baths, I will deal with whatever comes next.

  A personal physical therapist is up first to find. The boys have a contact, someone who is used to my lifestyle supposedly. Ice swears it’s someone who can handle an asshole like me.

  I’m not so sure about that, but if it means I can be back in my own condo, fine by me.

  When my brother pulls up in front of my building, I take one look at the line of bikes and vehicles the biker bunnies drove in and feel frustration wash over me. They aren’t quite hidden from view, but I can tell they positioned the machines in order to let me see them without drawing too much attention to their presence.

  Apparently, one of the dumb fucks decided it would be a good idea to throw me some kind of coming home party. I don’t want a fucking party.

  A party means people. People will see me in my wheelchair and think I’m not the same man I used to be. The women will want to give me a pity blowjob
, and my brothers will be standing around, looking at me but trying not to show pity.

  But we all know that they will. Pity me, that is.

  To hell with that! I love each and every brother in my club, but they can take their good intentions and shove them right up their own asses. I would rather sit by myself in an empty condo and give myself a hand job than accept their stoic faces and the women’s fake celebration.

  I look over at my brother who sits tensely in the driver’s seat, totally aware of what I have been looking at and my sudden black mood.

  “Get ’em out right now.”

  I watch his fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he blows out a weary breath. “They just wanna say hi and welcome you home, bro. Is that so bad?”

  Trying to keep my cool, not wanting to take my anger out on my own flesh and blood, I grip the door handle instead of giving in to the urge to punch his pretty face. “I don’t know. How bad would it be if you had to go to Alibi and all those dick jockeys you work with saw you busted up in a wheelchair, unable to walk, let alone do your job?”

  My brother, the epic smartass, doesn’t miss a beat, answering me with a smirk. “I think I would be the one receiving the lap dances instead of giving them. That could be pretty sweet. Titties in the face and all that.”

  My left eye twitches as my right hand lets go of the door handle and rears back to hit him.

  Evan throws his hands up in the air between us to stop me. “If you hit me, I’m sending pictures of the bruises to Mom.”

  Utterly incredulous, I snap, “Did you just use our mother against me?”

  “All’s fair in love and war.”

  “You fuck nugget! I’m gonna kick your ass when I can use my legs again.”

  “If kickin’ my ass is all you can think of doing when you get the use of your legs back, then I’m gonna worry there’s more wrong with you than we currently know about, bro.”

  “Only you would bring up sex at a time like this!”

  “Actually, I was talking about riding your bike again, but sex is a good point, too.”

  At the end of my patience, I somehow stop myself from giving in to the urge to strangle Evan and grab the dashboard, instead.