Hammer (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #9) - Dani Wyatt Page 0,1

the D.A. about an arson investigation, and there she fucking was, standing her ground, looking bored, while an entitled-looking woman was berating her for something.

She was wearing a black skirt and tucked in white shirt and fucking red patent leather heels. She is the perfect kind of curvy. Like pin-up girl curvy with a little extra padding in her ass which makes my fucking mouth water.

It was fairly clear the woman was her client and she was not happy about being there, but from the look Robin was giving the screaming woman, she was in no uncertain terms telling her she got herself into this mess, and if she wasn’t careful, she wouldn’t have any helping getting out of it.

As we got closer, her eyes snapped to mine and I swear I saw fire there. The flash in her eyes matched her hair. All shimmering copper. And she set something inside of me ablaze.

The district court near Seneca is small town all the way. So, I stuck by Wrath until he got through his interview, but before we went into the D.A.’s office, I grabbed my phone and took her picture from down the hall.

Just as I clicked, she turned my way and caught my stalker ass, but I didn’t care. I’d find out who she was. We spent enough time there that I knew some of the security guys that manned the front entry where you had to pass through the metal detectors.

And sure enough, on our way out of the courthouse, I showed her picture to one of the more friendly security guards and he slipped me her name.

As soon as he did, I knew I was in trouble. God, fate, or whatever the fuck it is was, was having some fun with me for sure.

Ever since, I’ve been in constant turmoil. I’m not a relationship sort of guy. I keep everyone at arm’s length, even at the club. They don’t know the entire story about my past and that’s the way I like it.

It’s safer.

For them and for me.

If I were to get close to Robin? Fuck. I know I’d lose my chill and put her at risk. No way.

It hasn’t stopped my stalker ass from following her though. Finding out where she lives which is only about a half mile from my place.

She’s sharp. She’s seen me. She nailed my ass watching her at the The Grindhouse coffee shop about a week after that day at the courthouse. To my surprise, she shook her head with a smile and walked right up to me.

“You’re following me,” she stated, clear and concise, without any fear in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“I don’t want you to be,” I answered taking in the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. The tiny diamond stud earrings. Most people are fucking afraid of me and many should be. I stand nearly 6’5” and when I’m wearing my leather and patches most people will barely meet my eyes.

“Then what do you want?” She asked, taking a sip out of her coffee, and I wasn’t sure if I was more taken aback by her beauty or the straightforward, no bullshit way she was talking to me. She is there every morning at 7:30 am sharp, and generally so am I unless I’m doing club business or working an early morning side gig.

I do heating and cooling for club members and their family and friends generally for a good price and cash only.

It’s not going to make me Bill Gates, but I’ve got savings and do fine. I help with club business as well, so my cash flow is solid and I hardly spend anything anyway.

“Just like to watch you. You’re very watchable.” I decided to give her back the no bullshit talk she was giving me.

“Fine,” she answered. “What’s your name?”

“Hammer.”

She stifles a laugh, raising her eyebrows. “Well, Hammer. Watching is one thing, but be sure, if you do more than watch, if I feel threatened at all, I will bring down the hammer on you? We clear?”

After that day, we’ve developed an odd acquaintanceship, for lack of a better word. She’s polite, but distant, and fuck it only makes me want her more.

So, I come around the corner at the fucking grocery, looking down at my list, ready to search the aisle for the first alphabetically-arranged item: asparagus. I look up, scan the produce section, looking for where to head, and I see the waves of red hair and