"What the hell?" I asked the question aloud, without even thinking about it, then lowered my weapon and pulled open the door.
"Meia," he said. He stood in the doorway, several days worth of stubble on his face, wearing a leather vest I'd not seen him wear before. A leather jacket from a biker club. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks immediately on seeing him.
"What the hell are you doing here? At my house?" I asked through clenched teeth, practically spitting the words at him. I stepped just outside of the doorway, looked down the hallway.
"What the hell happened to you?" A look of concern crossed Hammer's features, and his brow furrowed. "What did he do to you?"
"Nothing." I looked at Hammer's clenched fist, saw his anger, and all I could feel was panic. I wanted him out of the hallway, where anyone could see him. "Leave."
"His men aren't outside," Hammer said. "They're not watching."
"I don't need you here," I said. "Leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Now, move before I bust down your front door."
"No!" I pushed him back, panic building in my chest. I couldn't have him here. I couldn't take the chance that Aston was watching me, questioning my loyalty. "Stay here for a second. Do. Not. Move."
I slipped back into the apartment, terrified that Hammer was right behind me, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. When I opened the door again, I handed him the paper with the hotel name on it. "Thirty minutes," I said.
He nodded. "I swear to God, Meia, if you don't..." His voice trailed off, a warning to me that he expected me to show up.
I closed the door without a word, bolting it behind me. My heart beat furiously in my chest as I tried to process what had just happened.
Hammer had been following me, stalking me. And I hadn't noticed. Which meant that I'd gotten complacent. It meant that Aston could have been watching me and I might not have noticed. I mentally ran through the checklist of precautions I'd taken with Hammer. The first call was the one I'd taken in Aston's bathroom, in hushed whispers. But it was on my disposable cell phone, the number I'd given Hammer.
No, I told myself. If Aston knew anything, you would know by now. Aston wasn't exactly good at waiting when it came time to dole out punishment. And everything else, all of the other phone calls, had been on the second cell phone. The minute Hammer called, I put on shoes and went walking, an earpiece tucked into my ear and the phone tucked into the pocket of the hoodie I wore. I couldn't know whether Aston had my house bugged.
I was paranoid, I knew that. But who wouldn't be, in my situation? I had to be. It's what had gotten me this far. My paranoia had allowed me to survive.
The problem was that all of a sudden Hammer appeared in my life, and now I was taking risks I shouldn't. Risks I knew better than to take.
Risks that were going to get Ben and I killed.
I told myself this was not a risk. I justified it to myself as I took a circuitous route to the hotel, a place far from Aston's and, I told myself, where it was unlikely that Aston had any reach. I walked swiftly through the lobby, past the front desk, and straight to the elevators, still wearing the scarf that covered my hair, the sunglasses that hid the bruise under my eye.
I went straight to the room Hammer texted me, my breath caught in my throat the entire time, half-expecting one of Aston's goons to pop out and grab me at any moment.
But there was no boogeyman lurking, and when Hammer opened the door, my feeling of relief at not being caught was so intense I nearly collapsed into him. I stood there, just inside the doorway, so close to him that I could nearly feel him breathing.
"You used a fake name?" I asked.
"Give me some fucking credit," Hammer said, his voice sharp. "Of course I did. I'm not trying to get you killed."
"Showing up to my apartment like that, you will get me killed." The words came out harsher than I intended, and I cringed as I heard them leave my mouth. He wanted to help; I knew that. But sometimes the best of intentions wasn't good enough.
"I want to see what the hell that cocksucker did to you," Hammer said. He reached for my sunglasses, pulling them off my face, and I flinched at his touch, hating myself for the automatic reaction. Even as I looked down at the ground, I knew he saw my response, and he put his fingers under my chin, turning my face up toward him. "Christ, what the fuck has he done?"
I felt tears begin to fill up my eyes, threatening to overflow and spill down my cheeks. I would not let this man see me cry. I jerked away from his touch, and turned, walked to the other side of the room, looking for the mini-bar. I didn't even want a drink; I just wanted to be out from under the intensity of his gaze.
I grabbed one of the tiny bottles of amber liquid from the refrigerator, and poured it into the glass, not bothering to even read what it was. My hands shook as I brought it to my lips and sipped, grimacing at the burning of the alcohol as it hit my throat. I waited for it to quell my shakiness, but it didn't do anything.
From behind me, I heard Hammer approach, but I didn't turn around, willing myself to calm down. I didn't need him to see me as some weak thing, some pathetic girl who needed to be pitied.