Hammer (Regulators MC 2)

Quickly pushing myself upright so as to not piss off the burly biker who is supposed to keep me safe, I stammer an apology. “S-sorry. I’ve got two left feet today.”

He looks back over his shoulder with a knowing grin. “Funny you should say that. I heard Captain Big-Dick-Ulous has a new pump that could give him two feet, too. Only, his aren’t left feet, if you know what I mean. I heard him behind us, so if you got a good look at him, you can tell me if he was telling the truth about that new dick pump of his.”

Now would be a good time to show the Regulators MC what I have already proven to the Hellions MC: I know how to keep my mouth shut.

“I plead the fifth.”

Chapter

8

~Hammer~

Why am I wound up so tight? I haven’t felt this way since I was fucking the commander’s daughter in high school and praying he wouldn’t come home and catch us. Her parents had a rule of no boys in her bedroom, so the cheerleading captain rode me hard on the couch in the living room where they could walk in and see.

It was not the smartest move I ever made, but at seventeen, I was thinking with the wrong head.

There is too much riding on this working. I’m a man’s man kind of guy. Now in the blink of an eye, I’m crippled and have to have a roommate. Danger or not, I have to share my space with another person for the unforeseeable future when I just want to hole up here in my own world until the doctors can sort out my mobility.

It’s funny how life works sometimes. I never wanted to settle down. Seeing what my mom went through after depending on a man and having it all shot to hell by an accident, I didn’t ever want anyone to depend on me, only to be let down.

I never thought my life would end up with me depending on others.

“You just gonna sit there, or you gonna help me make sure she’s set up?” Evan says in a clipped tone as he comes out of my second bathroom.

“She?” I ask as thoughts run crazy in my head.

How will a female handle me? How will she fix the mangled mess of my hips and legs? I’m not a chauvinist, but I am a two hundred ten pound, six-foot tall man who is unstable on his feet.

Is she an Amazon? She sure as shit needs to be if she has a shot in hell of picking me up on the off chance I have an accident and fall on the floor.

Thankfully, in the couple of accidents I have had since coming home, my chair was still nearby so I could pull myself up into it. That doesn’t mean an incident won’t come when I fall out of bed or from the shower chair, and my wheelchair won’t be anywhere near me for whatever reason.

Insecurities fill me as the anger returns. The guys have a girl coming to help me. Well, fuck that! Why should I worry about cleaning up? She can at least handle that since she can’t do much else for me.

I smirk at my brother coldly. “Last time I checked, as a PT, she needs me to be mobile. Last time I checked, my ass was stuck. So the way I see it, if Miss Priss needs something, she can get it her damn self.”

He glares at me. “Would it kill you to be hospitable?”

“Yes,” I bark out.

Would it kill him to have a little understanding? Yeah, it would, and me, too. The last thing I want is pity.

Since the car accident, I have been all over the place: from angry to depressed to wishing I could pretend none of it ever happened. More than anything, I want to be left alone, but baby brother here won’t let me be. Really, with the way I’m all over the place mentally, I feel like I give myself whiplash at least twice an hour.

This isn’t going to work.

The sound of people on the other side of the door puts me on edge. I can’t back out now. Time stands still as I watch the nickel-plated door knob twist before it opens.

Almost as if in slow motion, I see Ice standing there. My prez continues to hold the door open as he nods his head to someone who must be standing just out of sight. As my heart starts pounding away in my chest, and my forehead breaks out into a sweat from my oncoming anxiety attack, a flip-flop covered foot with pink painted toenails appears, followed by a trim leg in a tight pair of jeans, which is attached to a shapely pair of hips.

My eyes keep traveling upward over her abdomen, which is hidden by her T-shirt, and then up some more to her breasts that are definitely not hidden by the same shirt. No, her shirt is hugging her ample chest in a way that gets little hammer below the belt stirring in a way he hasn’t in a long time.