He could have sworn he’d vaguely heard Dex’s voice through the thudding of blood in his head, but he only spotted him after crawling back to the spot he and the kid had watched the cabin from earlier. The snow made his knees and hands cool rapidly, but Hammer’s attention settled on Ryker, who paced around with a shotgun in hand, breathing out an excessive amount of vapor. Dex lay on the ground, getting cuffed by one of the bastard’s buddies. A large bruise stained his forehead, but he was alive, and that was the only thing that mattered.
Hammer’s ears drank every sound they could, but to better understand the scene, he engaged with all his senses, already planning how to deal with the situation. He could use the snow in a fight, he had the advantage of being hidden, and the high ground. A rake lay next to Dex, so Hammer could utilize it as a weapon if need be.
“I’m here on my own, idiot! Do you have any idea who I am? I’m a hitman, I work alone!” Dex yelled at the top of his lungs, no doubt trying to communicate his position and that he was alive.
Ryker snorted, glancing at the gun in his hand. There lay the whole root of the problem. Ryker might not remember Dex’s face from the few brief encounters the two of them had, but Hammer had this gun customized with an engraving that any of his biker brothers would have recognized in a heartbeat.
Fuck.
“Hear that, Jeff? He’s anassassin. Not a very good one, since he couldn’t even jump me from the shed while I had my back turned,” Ryker mocked
No.
Hammer’s head dropped as he counted to five in an attempt to get his anger under control. Stupid boy. Hadn’t Hammer told him to just stay put and watch the situation? He might be a good shot but had no experience in planning an assault on several people. What the hell had he been thinking?
Nothing, Hammer’s mind suggested,he hadn’t been thinking at all.
And now, their one gun was in the possession of their mark, who additionally had at least five people to back him up.
“I know you’re here, Hammer!” Ryker called out, and one of his companions, a skinny dude with hair so bright it looked bleached, put his knee on Dex’s back.
“Hammer? The pedo who tried to get you ousted from your club?” Jeff asked.
Of course Ryker would have twisted the real story of what happened to his benefit and made himself into some kind of hero in the new narrative. The fucking rat.
Dex twitched, his flushed face dark on the background of snow. “You lie!You’rethe pedo. Hammer would nev—” His protest was cut short when another of Ryker’s companions, a balding man with thick thighs and a pronounced pot belly, shoved his face into the snow.
Every tendon in Hammer ached, as if they’d been viciously pulled at. He knew staying calm was of essence when outnumbered, especially that he only had a knife and his trusty sledgehammer to go against guns, but the idea of watching his Dex smothered was so unbearable he almost rose to confront the fuckers below.
Ryker waved his hand at the bald guy. “Take him to the basement, we might need a hostage.”
The Viking seen earlier on the porch rolled something in his hand and glared toward Hammer’s hiding spot intently enough to make his blood freeze. “I could smoke him out. Got a whole crate of these.” He tossed and caught the grenade in a casual gesture that made even his companions stiffen. But when Viking moved his gaze farther along the ridge, it told Hammer he hadn’t been spotted, and the men presumed his location based on where Dex had come from.
Ryker shook his head. “No. At least not yet. Hammer’s resilient like a cockroach, it could cause unnecessary chaos. Hunker down, watch our surroundings, and I’ll take Amanda home.”
“What?” Lumberjack spread his thick arms. “I didn’t even get to sample the goods.”
Ryker scowled, but was already headed for the house. On the way there, he made a stop to kick Dex’s side for good measure. “Tough luck. I’ll pay for everyone next time, once Hammer’s dead.”
Hammer watched the bastard from behind the snowed-over bush while the other men scanned the elusive white landscape that ought to give away the location of any intruder yet would not. It didn’t escape him that they all squeezed their firearms as if this was their first serious confrontation. Maybe they were just used to being the ones doing the stalking, and the notion of being prey was too much for them to handle?
For all they knew, there might be a whole army encroaching from all sides, so it was in Hammer’s damn interest to stay put, because the moment those fuckers realized they outnumbered him, he and Dex would be toast. All he could do was make a mental note of where to stab Ryker first once the time came. He settled on the ribs, on the side of the liver.
Loathing was thick in his throat when he watched two of the men drag a cuffed Dex through the snow, because no one but him was allowed to manhandle the dumbass. Despite the cold, he couldn’t force himself to blink, silent in his fury. Dex was his, even if he deserved a slap for disobeying an order. Hammer could deal with that once he ensured Dex's safety.
“Amanda! Don’t stall!” Ryker yelled from the other side of the house, and quick steps followed his shouting.
His companions might not have figured it out yet, but Hammer was familiar with the snake’s ways. Ryker wasn’t coming back.
Like a rat fleeing a sinking ship, he’d leave his buddies to kill Hammer or die, while he hid away someplace safe, where his precious ass wasn’t at risk.
Worse yet, only Lion could have revealed Ryker’s location to Hammer, which meant he wouldn't contact his older brother again. If he disappeared now, Hammer would be searching for a needle in a haystack, never able to put that dirty fuck six feet under, and he'd have to endure the shame of failing everyone.
Ryker also knew where Hammer lived. If he got away, Hammer would be left forever looking over his shoulder, wondering if Ryker grew the balls to confront him. Ryker would have the benefit of surprise and could cause all manner of carnage. But as the impulse to follow and break Ryker’s head with a single hit of the sledgehammer spread through his bones, his gaze still followed Dex all the way into the house.
Hammer’s skull was burning his brain as the tiny window of opportunity to fulfill his mission closed. Without a firearm, or a vehicle he could use, he had no chance of dealing with the whole fucking mess.
It was either revenge, or Dex’s safety.