Breaking Hammer (Inferno Motorcycle Club, #3)

"No," I said, willing courage into my voice that I didn't feel. "Where are you taking me?"


Aston finally looked up. "To see your son," he said. "Is what you've wanted, isn't it?"

I shook my head, paralyzed by terror. "No," I croaked. "Not like this, whatever you're doing."

"Oh, you have no idea what 'this' means, Meia," Aston said. "I gave you everything, and this is how you repay my kindness? Meeting some fighter in a hotel room? Some white-trash biker?"

"Your kindness?" I spat on the hotel floor, not caring about the consequences for my outburst. I was already dead. I knew it. "You've kept me your slave for years. You stole my child away from me. Lily killed herself because of the things you did to her. You have been my own version of hell."

Aston walked toward me, took the cloth from the man's hand. It smelled sticky-sweet, and the smell, even from where he stood, made me nauseous. He smiled, the expression sinister. "How cute. You still think your sister killed herself."

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as a desert. "What - what do you mean?" I could hardly speak.

"She didn't kill herself," Aston said. "She was an...unfortunate casualty, a by-product of my youthful exuberance."

My stomach churned, and I thought I would vomit as I imagined what Aston had done to her. "You killed her."

"The last time I had her, she fought," he said, smiling. "She was strong, for how young she was."

My head was spinning, and I seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. When Aston spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming from far away, even as I felt his arms on me, and saw his hand, covered in the white rag, moving toward my face.

"And you think you know what hell is?" he asked, his voice in my ear. "You have no idea. Your hell is just beginning."





IMPERMANENCE



Everything is transient and nothing endures. There is birth and death, growth and decay; there is combination and separation.



~ The Gospel of Buddha, Carus' translation





I knew immediately that everything was wrong.

In my gut, I knew it. I tried to convince myself otherwise, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her, the tap-tap-tap of my foot on the tile floor the only noise in the room.

The room was immaculate, as it always was, which was to be expected from the type of hotel this was. This was not the type of hotel where bad things happened, even if it was Vegas. At least, this wasn’t the floor where bad things happened, the suites where high-rollers stayed. Not that I was a high-roller. I wasn’t here to gamble. Gambling wasn’t my vice.

I had so many other fucking vices, I didn’t need to gamble.

The room was eerily still. Nothing was out of place...no furniture overturned, no ripped open sofa cushions or gutted mattress. Nothing to indicate anyone had been here in the room.

Except the locket.

Her locket.

The one with the picture of a girl. When I’d asked her who it was inside, she had averted her eyes, looked away, sat there silently.

I could have easily missed the locket, on the floor behind the toilet. If I had overlooked it, if I had just walked away instead of listening to my gut, I wouldn’t have known. I would have assumed that she walked away from me, that she had come to her senses.

That she had decided that whatever this was, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

It’s the same thing I kept telling myself, trying to rationalize away what I felt. Reminding myself of April. It had only been three years. A man should mourn his dead wife for longer than three years, I told myself. A man should grieve.

How much more could I grieve?

Everyone I loved died. It was like a goddamned curse.

Not this time. This time would be different. It couldn’t happen that way again. If it did, it would destroy me. I wouldn’t let it happen.

I would find her.

I would find Ben.

I would bring them home.





Inferno Motorcycle Clubhouse Los Angeles Chapter



It was dark when I pulled into the parking lot of the Inferno MC. There were only a few bikes in the lot, the clubhouse mostly empty, a signal that it wasn't a party night. Blaze was expecting me, but I'd told him nothing. This wasn't something I was about to talk about over the phone.

It was also something I hadn't taken to the Vegas chapter club president. I'd considered it, thought about telling them what was going on when I'd first found out that Aston was holding Ben. But I had no history with that chapter, other than my friendship with Skunk. Aston's power was far-reaching, and I couldn't trust anyone.

Blaze, on the other hand...he and I had history. We used to be friends, once upon a time. And I trusted him.

And that's why I was here on a Tuesday night, walking through the doorway of the Inferno MC clubhouse in Los Angeles.

Blaze stood outside, smoking a cigar. He nodded at me as I approached him. "Good to see you back on a bike, brother," he said. "And back in the colors. It's about fucking time."