What Hammer Wants Read online

  “If it goes south, it’s going to be your ass, not Hammer’s. You know that too?”

  The general could still taste coffee grounds in his mouth, but they weren’t as bitter as he felt whenever he thought about how his own government, a government he’d served faithfully for over thirty years, put Hammer Reese above everybody else. But the American people loved them some Hammer. He was as popular as Colin fucking Powell, another “superstar” who didn’t deserve it either, if you asked the general. “I know that too,” he said. “But I’m no mega-man like Hammer. I do what I’m told. Cordoba wants Hammer, then Hammer is who Cordoba gets. Speed it up, will you?” he added to the driver when they all began to hear the sound of chopper blades.

  When they made it to the helipad, the chopper had already landed and Hamilton “Hammer” Reese, the former CIA Director and current Black Ops Chief, was just stepping off of the pad. His personal body man, former agent Ozzie Jones, was stepping off behind him.

  As Hammer walked up to the Jeep, his suit coat flaring out around him from the wind the chopper made, the general got out and shook his hand. The two body men got out too.

  “Good evening, sir,” the general said.

  “What’s good about it?” asked Hammer as he sat on the front passenger seat.

  “The last thing I wanted to do, believe me, was to call you out here this time of night,” the general said as he got in the back of the Jeep. “But he’ll only deal with you.” Ozzie Jones got in the back of the Jeep beside the general, and the two body men stood up on the back ledge of the Jeep as the Jeep began driving off.

  “Any preconditions already discussed?” Hammer asked as they bounced along.

  “A couple yes.”

  “Hit me with it,” Hammer said.

  “Whatever deal is struck,” the general said, “we’ve got to ensure Cordoba’s safety and the safety of his family. No matter what. That’s the precondition.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “The only thing I could tell him,” the general said. “I told him yes.”

  “Why would you tell him a fool thing like that?” Hammer asked.

  “Because this entire operation is about restoring him to power,” the general said.

  “That’s what it’s about?” Hammer asked.

  “Yes!” the general said emphatically. But then he had a second thought. It was odd even to his men that a heavy-hitter like Hammer Reese would be on a case like that. He knew what the official line was: that Cordoba wouldn’t deal with anybody else. But what was the unofficial line? “Or am I wrong?” the general asked Hammer.

  But Hammer didn’t answer him. He planted that seed of doubt, the general thought bitterly, because he could!

  The bumpy ride ended deep into the jungle where a makeshift tent had been erected. Hammer and the general got out and went inside. Ozzie and the driver remained at the Jeep.

  The driver smiled. “Tension anyone?” he said.

  Ozzie smiled too. And lit a cigarette.

  Inside, four Peruvian bodyguards stood behind Huertez Cordoba, the small, dark man seated in the middle of the tent on a bench. He seemed too drained to lift his head. But when Hammer Reese walked in behind the general, and the general announced that Hammer had arrived, Cordoba found the strength to look up anyway.

  “Hammer,” Cordoba said in his thick, Peruvian accent that made his English heavy, but discernable. “Good to see you again, my friend.”

  As Hammer walked over to the small man, a stool was hurried over by one of the four bodyguards for him to sit on. “Hello, Mr. President,” Hammer said as he sat down.

  “Thank you for coming. The General said you would not come.”

  The general angrily shifted his weight. He was accustomed to being the head honcho. He didn’t mean for his own musings to get to the real head honcho’s ears. But that was these South Americans for you, he thought.

  “He said you were too busy,” Cordoba continued. “A busy man, he said you were. I said I would not make a deal until you came. Thank you for coming.”

  “What seems to be at issue?” Hammer asked.

  “Everything. Your government wants me to lead a coup d’état to regain power when it was a coup that took me out of power. I understand the United States must have a stable Peru. They need a stable region for their own security. Yet they provide me no resources. They expect me to fight this fight alone, with just my men. But the Cohuntas decimated my men when I was forced out of office. We are operating at a third the capacity we were operating before we entertained this ludicrous idea.”

  “If it’s so ludicrous,” Hammer said, “why are you entertaining it?”

  The general inwardly smiled. Put that asshole in his place, he thought. Although he also knew Hammer was an even bigger asshole who made them do everything by the book when they desperately needed to improvise. But at least, compared to Cordoba, he was their asshole.

  “I must entertain it for the sake of my people. The Cohuntas are destroying everything that is right about my homeland. If I do not stand up, then I am afraid my entire country will fall down. That is the only reason I must entertain this mission of lunacy.”

  “You need more men,” Hammer said.

  “Thousands more,” said Cordoba. “And not just any men, but well-experienced fighting men.”

  The general had had enough. “Where on earth do you expect us to find thousands of well-experience men like that? We can barely maintain our own troop readiness, let alone get you thousands more up to speed.”

  “I did not ask you to get them up to speed,” said Cordoba. “In fact,” he added, “I am asking nothing of you. It is Director Reese that I deal with.” He looked at Hammer. “We will get the men ready. But we need the men.”

  “Thousands, you said.”

  Cordoba nodded. “Yes. We will need thousands I’m afraid.”

  “Give me a solid number,” Hammer said.

  Cordoba sat upright. He knew it would be impossible. “Ten thousand men,” he said.

  The general shook his head. But Hammer stared into the ousted president’s eyes. He wasn’t looking for sincerity. He didn’t give a damn about where Cordoba’s heart was. He was looking for strength. For the ability to manage the battle. Did Cordoba have what it was going to take? When he saw that he did, he nodded. “You will have your ten thousand men,” Hammer said.

  The bodyguards, all generals in Cordoba’s army, looked at each other in shock. Cordoba was shocked, too. He expected Hammer to agree to half that number, if that much. He nodded. “Thank you. I always knew you to be a man I can do business with.”

  Hammer’s general, however, was stunned. But he knew Hammer was too far up the chain of command for him to disagree. “See to it,” Hammer said to the general.

  “Yes, sir,” the general responded, although he knew it was a fool’s errand. But he was given orders. He had to follow them.

  “We also need weapons,” Cordoba said. “As you know, our stockpile is greatly diminished. Ammunition especially. I wanted to go shopping, but we have no resources even for that.”

  “The open market is out of the question,” said Hammer. “Do not put any fillers out. That will only tip off the government.”

  “That was the hesitation,” said Cordoba.

  Hammer nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then Hammer exhaled. His business dealings were always in the margins. In normal circumstances, a phone call could handle it. But he wasn’t in charge of Black Ops for the hell of it. Nothing could be handled over the phone. Nothing was normal. “What else?” he asked Cordoba.

  “If we are able to get the men and the firepower, we will be well positioned to battle to the death.”

  Hammer stood up and reached out his hand. Cordoba found the strength to stand up and shake his hand. “General Shandling will be in touch,” Hammer said, nodded at the grateful generals behind the ousted president, and was about to walk out. When he heard it.

  Hammer stopped in his tracks so fast
that General Shandling nearly bumped into him. And he looked at him.

  “What is it?” the general asked.

  Hammer frowned. And then Ozzie ran inside. “We’re surrounded,” he yelled. “Choppers are surrounding the place!”

  When Ozzie said choppers, that was when everybody heard what Hammer thought he was hearing a moment earlier.

  And Hammer sprang into action. “Get the president!” he yelled to the president’s generals and he, Ozzie, and General Shandling all pulled out their weapons as they ran out of the tent.

  With Hammer in the lead and Ozzie and Shandling and the other American personnel in the back, Cordoba and the Peruvian generals were in the middle. Hammer led them through the thickest of the thick jungle as four helicopters surrounded them and began raining bullets down on them in an orchestrated attack that hit one of the Peruvian generals as they ran.

  When they made it to the foxhole Hammer knew was positioned there, he stood aside as the generals and Cordoba jumped into the hole. Then Ozzie and Shandling and the Americans jumped in too. Hammer jumped in last, as he, Ozzie, and Shandling continued to fire away. Although they are firing as blindly as the gunmen on the choppers were firing, they also had the advantage of sound. They could hear where the choppers were and Hammer, who had an ear unlike any other, was hypervigilant. He shot down the first chopper from a distance. He and Ozzie shot down the third chopper.

  But he also knew he had to get President Cordoba safely out of that jungle or the entire operation would be over.

  “Stay and keep firing,” he ordered Ozzie and the general. Then he grabbed Cordoba. “Come with me,” he yelled, and then he and Cordoba’s generals took off out of the foxhole. While the Americans continued to fire on the choppers, Hammer led Cordoba through the thickest parts of the jungle all the way until he was nearing his own chopper.

  “On my word,” Hammer said to Cordoba, “you and your men jump on board and go.”

  “But your pilot will not leave you,” Cordoba said anxiously.

  “My pilot knows what to do. Just go. Now!” Hammer yelled and Cordoba’s generals grabbed their president and ran across the clearing.

  Hammer heard another attack chopper travel toward that clearing as they neared the plane. Hammer remained near the jungle as he prepared to fire. Before that chopper made it to the clearing, Hammer began firing. At first, he was missing badly. But then he hit, and when he hit the chopper went sideways, smoking, and then began to go down.

  Hammer’s pilot knew his orders were to leave if it appeared dangerous. But he stayed. He wasn’t leaving Hammer. That was when Hammer ran all the way back to the foxhole, and motioned for Ozzie and the others to get out. He then stayed back as they ran through the thickest part of the jungle while Hammer listened for the one remaining chopper to surround them.

  He didn’t hear it when they made it to the clearing. He waited, and then allowed Ozzie and Shandling and the other Americans to run across the clearing and board the big chopper too. And then Hammer made a run for it himself.

  But as soon as Hammer was in the clearing, the sound of that final attack chopper could be heard making a fast run on the clearing area. Shots were fired from the final attack chopper as Hammer was exposed, and Ozzie and Shandling began firing on the chopper. Hammer fired, too, but was missing. Shandling didn’t miss, and the chopper went down. Only it was going down and heading for Hammer’s chopper. Hammer jumped on and had to be helped all the way onboard. But even if he was precariously hanging on, he was still yelling out orders. “Go now!” he yelled as his pilot began quickly taking off. “Go!”

  The final attack chopped missed Hammer’s helicopter within mere inches.

  Hammer, on the floor of the chopper, leaned his head back and let out a series of exhales that bordered on hyperventilation.

  But the president was okay. Most of his men were okay. It was a tragic, but overall successful outcome.

  But it was a fact. Hammer Reese was getting tired of this shit.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The ride up Charlemagne mountain, Hammer’s home in Montreal, Canada, was a slow drive. Hammer sat in the back of the limousine unable to think about anything else but the terror of that night. He flew in from Peru, after dropping Cordoba and his men to safety, and now it was another night. And he was still wondering who could have known about that meeting. It was an ambush well planned. But it also was an inside job.

  The limo stopped at the top of the mountain, and James, his valet, was waiting to open the door. But Hammer just sat there, still thinking about that near-miss encounter. Had he allowed those bastards to assassinate Cordoba, he knew he wouldn’t be back in the comfort of his own home, but would be in DC, on the griddle, hearing it from all sides.

  Hammer knocked and his valet opened the door. “Good evening, sir,” he said as Hammer stepped out of the limo. The valet had been alerted of his arrival by gate security at the bottom of the mountain, giving him plenty of time to leave the servants’ quarters downstairs where he and his fellow workers lived, to meet the limo. But even the valet could tell that the boss was in a dark place.

  For one, he hesitated before speaking as if his mind was so far away it took him a moment to bring it back home.

  For another, when he did speak, he called his valet Evan rather than his actual name of James, a mistake Hammer Reese had never made before.

  The valet glanced at the limo driver as he closed the door of the limousine. The driver knew Hammer wasn’t himself. But it wasn’t as if the boss shared his secrets with him. All he could do was hunch his shoulders. But the valet did not delay. He hurried up the steps to open the front door for Hammer.

  “They arrived safely, sir,” James said as Hammer crossed the threshold into his home.

  Hammer looked at James. What on earth was he talking about? “Who arrived safely?” he asked him.

  James was shocked that Hammer was not aware. Or had he forgotten that too? “Miss Sinatra and your son, sir,” James responded. “They arrived safely earlier this evening.”

  Hammer was surprised. He hadn’t seen Amelia and JoJo in weeks. And they were in Montreal? “Where are they?” he asked.

  “Upstairs, sir. In your bedroom.”

  “Thank you,” Hammer did manage to say as he left his valet’s side and made his way to his full-sized bar, first, where he gulped down a shot of whiskey, and then up his winding staircase. But as he made it up those stairs, he knew he was a walking basket case who expected to be alone on his mountain after that near-fiasco. By the grace of God he made it out of that jungle, and suffered only minimal casualties, but the main question was still the main question: how did Cordoba’s enemies find out about that meeting? Was the breach inside of his camp, or Hammer’s?

  But when he made it to his bedroom on the south wing of his home, and stood in the double doorway, he still couldn’t help but smile. Amelia and their precious little boy, Hannibal “JoJo” Reese, were curled together in his big bed, and they were both fast asleep.

  For the longest time Hammer just stood there, staring at them, as a warm feeling began to overtake the tension that had overwhelmed his body. JoJo was lying there so peacefully, as if he had a smile on his face even as he slept. He was a happy kid that Hammer simply adored.

  And Amelia. Millie. She always looked enchanting to Hammer. And the way she was lying there, as if she didn’t have a care in this world, either, gave him hope. Their relationship had always been tumultuous, and still was, but they always managed to come together. He always could depend on Amelia showing up, not every time he wanted to see her, but just when he needed her most.

  Like tonight.

  He went to the bed and lifted a still-sleeping JoJo into his arms. He knew Amelia wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. When she slept over at his house, she always slept as if a freight train couldn’t wake her. He kissed his son, carried him to his actual bedroom, and put him to bed. JoJo woke up momentarily, saw that it was his father laying him down, and he smi
led. He reached up, and hugged Hammer’s neck, and then fell right back asleep. Just like that. Hammer smiled. “Just like your mother,” he said jokingly. And then left his son to his dreams.

  When he made it back to his bedroom, he headed straight for the master bathroom. Although he had showered on his plane on that long trip back from Peru, he nonetheless felt a need to shower again. For Amelia’s sake. To make certain that the terror of that trip wasn’t still caked on him, and could rub off on her.

  Amelia Sinatra had been sound asleep until she heard the shower water running. She was happy to hear it, because that meant Hammer was back home, but she wasn’t oriented enough to will herself to stay awake. And by the time Hammer had showered and dried off and gotten into bed behind her, she was asleep again.

  She didn’t wake up until later that morning, with her gown off, her naked body on top of Hammer’s naked body, and Hammer’s hammer deep inside of her.

  She closed her eyes again when she realized what he was doing to her. And it felt so good that she started smiling.

  Hammer saw her smile and increased his movements. He also began to suck her considerable breasts. It was like the best of both worlds for Hammer: Amelia and Amelia’s body. Neither got any better to him.

  And when she came, she began to pulsate so intensely that he came too. He squeezed her tighter, and lifted his upper body, as he came. And when it was finished, and he laid back down, he was almost too drained to hold Amelia.

  Almost.

  He wrapped his arms around her.

  Afterwards, as she continued to lay on top of him, Amelia had so many questions she needed to ask him. So many questions about their long-term, on-and-off relationship. Was he ever going to pop the question? Would she and Hammer and JoJo ever be an intact family? And the fact that she wasn’t getting any younger didn’t help. Because Big Daddy was spot-on about that too. Was she giving him the best years of her life, only to be dumped for a younger, prettier version of herself? She had so many questions for Hammer. So many questions!