“You—” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t process what I was looking at, so I turned around and walked out of the building without saying another damn word.
Chapter Sixteen
DREW
I let Ayda go, remaining focused on Helen Taylor the same way she was focused on me. I was staring at the same woman I’d told Jon Taylor was dead. The one whose life was saved at the very last minute by a ghostly cry from Harry and Pete, just before I pulled the trigger on her. She wasn’t as afraid as she had been at the start, the night I’d brought her here with a bullet in her shoulder and a few bruises against her temple. But that had been weeks ago, and she’d seen me plenty since then. She knew my temperament—the way to gauge my moods.
“That her?” Helen asked roughly, her voice hoarse from sleep.
I blinked, turned on my heels, and ignored the question, letting the door smack against the frame behind me. Ayda was bent over in front of the bike, one hand on her thigh while the other covered her mouth. Her hair was falling forward, hiding all her features. I didn’t need to see her face to know this hadn’t even started to get bad for me yet.
Standing at the top of the porch steps, I waited. Legs spread and arms hanging limply by my sides. I could give her this space. I had to.
Pushing up from her curled position, Ayda paced back and forth cutting a line in the dried dirt. She didn’t move her hand from her mouth, but I could see she was mumbling behind it.
“Who else knows?” she finally asked, skidding to a stop and sending up a cloud of dust around her feet. “Please tell me I’m not the only person who doesn’t know about this.”
“No one else knows.” The pause I took was intentional. “Except Eric.”
She nodded her head, a movement that quickly changed to a violent shake. She refused to look at me, just went back to her pacing and mumbling before settling on another question. “Who is she?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters,” she said, changing course and heading toward me. She met my stare briefly before she stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and closed her worried blue eyes to hide her emotions and disgust. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Helen Taylor. The wife of Jon Taylor. Jon was the prison guard who…” I exhaled heavily, clearing my throat. “He’s an evil fucking asshole. Made my life hell in prison, every single day of it. Gets his kicks out of beating men and using his power to make himself feel invincible. I found out he was the one who took Harry out the day he died.”
Just saying the words stung, but I kept my face stony, trying to control the way the blood rushed in my veins, making my body want to sway forward and chase down more enemies. I couldn’t go anywhere right now though. Ayda needed me to be here, be present, and to explain. I wanted to explain, to lighten this load in my chest, my heart, my mind.
“I’d have killed him if I could have, but death is too easy for Jon Taylor. He needed to think his wife had died by my hands instead.”
Ayda rocked onto her toes for a moment before seeming to fold in on herself, her body falling into a crouch before she reached for the porch steps and swung to sit on them, her face buried in her hand and her head shaking again.
“This isn’t you. This…” she trailed off and pressed both of her hands to her mouth trying to find what she needed to say. “This is something Cortez would have done, Drew. What the fuck were you thinking?”
I moved forward, sinking down to sit on the top step a couple of spaces behind her. My legs parted, and I dropped my arms to my knees, bringing my hands together as I looked up at the trees all around the safe house.
“This isn’t the me you know, but this is definitely me. This is me before you. Or at least some version of me. The one before you would have killed her without a thought. I almost did, too. I wanted to.” I inhaled a breath that filled up my lungs with as much air as I could hold, pouring all back out in one long stream. “When Harry got arrested and took the fall for my mistakes, the club was vulnerable. That kind of word gets out to other clubs and charters fast. If you knew how many people want my head on a wooden block, and how many of those people want to be the one to break it from my body, you’d understand that I can’t let anyone see us as weak like that. Then when Harry died, given my track record with grief and idiot decisions, The Hounds became weaker. If I hadn’t gone on a warpath, The Hut could be in flames by now. Our yard burned to the ground.” I pressed my lips together, glancing down at my heavy black boots as I rocked them back to rest on the heels. “I’m not saying what I did was right, I’m just telling you that I had to strike, and Helen was an easy first target to let people know that no one, no one takes out a Hound.”
Ayda stayed silent for the longest time. The insects began their song in the absence of our voices as I waited for her to say or do something, but all she was capable of was staring out into the inky darkness of night, one leg rocking back and forth in silent agitation.
For a long time, I wasn’t sure she was going to respond at all, but she moved quickly, a swift half turn of her body shifting her until she was kneeling in front of me, her hands gripping my calves as her red, swollen eyes met mine.
“There’s so much I don’t understand about the club. So much that you’ve hidden from me for my protection. I’ve understood and accepted that blindly because I trust you. I still trust you, Drew, but you have to know what this looks like. You have to see that Helen fucking Taylor is a representation of me. Harry–” She paused at the name and swallowed. “Retaliation for Harry had to happen, that’s something I understand, but what I don’t understand is the message you’re sending with her. The weakest link, the vulnerability.”
“Don’t you see? That’s the whole point,” I said so quietly, it was barely a whisper. I leaned forward, my hands still hanging between us. “My message was loud and clear. I’m done. Morals, code, and all the things that men out there expect us to stick to, they were off limits the second they took Harry. I’d already lost Pete. I did the right thing. I stayed away, did my time, let the club heal. No way can I do that again for Harry, and fuck if I was ever going to. If anyone comes after my club now, they need to think that I’ll go after their women the same way they came after mine.” I dragged my bottom lip through my teeth, nostrils flaring as I tried to stay in calm. “Sometimes you have to be the one to go after people before they come after you. I’m sick of being hunted, Ayda. Sick of losing those I love. I needed them to think Helen was dead.”
Understanding and compassion filled Ayda’s eyes but didn’t completely chase away the hard edge of disgust that lingered there. Reaching out, she cupped my cheek in her cool hand and watched me, holding my eyes as the next question came.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? I could have helped. Jedd could have helped, Kenny, Slater, Deeks, Moose… they all have your back.”
I shook my head, looking over hers and staring into nothing again. “Just didn’t feel right them knowing and you not. I don’t want to keep things from you. That doesn’t mean I don’t have to. The less you know, the better sometimes. Same for the guys. This crown gets heavy for a reason, baby.” I smirked awkwardly, not feeling smug at all.
“No more,” she said, pushing up and easing closer to me. “You’re not carrying a burden like this alone anymore. You want to help me be stronger? Lean on me.”
“Working on it,” I whispered down on her.
Resolution and resolve firmed behind her eyes as she studied me. She wasn’t looking for a lie because she knew she wouldn’t find one. She was looking for an answer to a question she wasn’t going to ask me. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against mine in the lightest of kisses and bathed me in her breath.
“What do you need from me? What can I do for you or Helen to make this easier?”
“I’m not letting her go. I need you to know that. Not yet.”
Ayda smiled sadly. “I understand that now. She may need a shower though, and I can help her with that.”
&nb
sp; “She’s coping well. If she were my old lady, I’d be proud of her. She doesn’t back down. Not even to me.”
“We’re stronger than we realize most of the time,” she said with a small sigh. “You may want to bring her something more than fast food, though.”
My short huff of laughter was cut off by the sound of a familiar engine drawing closer. Ayda glanced over her shoulder, her body tensing just enough for me to notice, but my chin just sank to my chest, the air and hope I’d felt building soon fading away.
“Fuck.”
Ayda mumbled something under her breath but didn’t expand on that line of thought. She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes harder than they had been seconds ago. Her hands were gripping my legs too tightly.
“What’s he doing here?”
I glanced up at her through my heavy brows. “Eric comes here every day. He’s been keeping her alive… and quiet.”
“Why him?” Ayda asked quietly, her voice almost drowned out by the engine of Eric’s bike. “Why did you trust him with this?”
“Because he’s the one person in my life whose opinion of me I don’t give a fuck about.” I stared into her eyes, seeing the betrayal she felt. My hands turned, holding her and pulling her closer to me until our faces were an inch apart. “He’s a machine, Ayda. I needed that when this went down. It’s nothing personal.”
“It is to him,” she grumbled, stiffening when he cut the engine of his bike.
The two of us turned just in time to see Eric swinging his leg off the bike. He was carrying a small bag, which I assumed was filled with the usual shit we brought for Helen. Food, water, painkillers, and he was wearing the first sign of emotion I’d seen on his face since his return to Babylon. Eric look confused and… worried. I frowned, watching him as he secured a weak ass half smile in place and strode over to us slowly and confidently.
Ayda pushed to a crouch and swung around just enough to sit next to me, facing Eric head-on with narrowed, cold eyes. There was so much tension in her body she had to speak through her teeth to greet him.
“Eric.”
He gave her a nod of acknowledgment and my father’s signature cool smile. “Ayda.” His attention shifted to me. “Drew.”
Pressing my lips together, I raised a weak hand and gave him a feeble wave of acknowledgment in return. He knew what I was saying without saying it. Ayda sitting beside me said it all.
When he came to a stop in front of us both, he looked every bit the former president that he once was. Old badges from back in his time littered his denim vest, and he was wearing a black and gray flannel shirt that had definitely seen better days, but somehow my father pulled it off. Smarmy, handsome bastard that he happened to be.
“I thought it was my turn to check in,” he said, directing the conversation at me.
“Change of plan.”
“I see that.”
I blew out all the air from my cheeks and glanced at Ayda. Her eyes were like ice, trained on Eric without so much as a blink. I hoped to God she wasn’t going to take her disappointment in me out on him when I’d started all this. I had no loyalty to the man. He left me for shit a long time ago. But punishments should be given to those who deserve them: me.
When I looked back up at Eric, he was watching Ayda.
“Everything okay here?” he asked carefully.
“Better now Ayda knows what’s going on.”
In a show of solidarity, Ayda dropped her hand to my leg and leaned into my side, all traces of her disappointment and upset gone. She wasn’t allowing Eric any insight into this situation, and she had walls up. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Glad to hear it.” Eric nodded again, not giving anything away.
“What’s she eating tonight?” I asked him, gesturing to whatever was in the bag in his hand.
“Chicken tender basket from Dairy Queen.” He lifted the bag, tilted his head in its direction and smirked. “We keep feeding her this shit, and she’s going to wish you’d aimed that bullet a little to the left, Drew.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Not funny.”
Eric took another glance at Ayda, his discomfort clear. “Has she spoken to you yet?” he asked her calmly. All he knew was calm. I’d yet to see him lose his temper or lash out the way I was known for doing, not since the day he’d arrived back in Babylon to surprise us. He was the perfect poker player—only the chips he played with were people’s lives.
“Me?” Ayda asked.
“You.”
Ayda shifted with discomfort, but the hardness of her glare never left. “Nope.” She turned her gaze to me. “Maybe she should eat first. I can try and talk to her when I take her to bathe.”
“Bathe?” Eric interrupted, his brow raised and aimed at me. “She’ll be asking for a robe and slippers next,” he said dryly.
“It’s common courtesy. No one enjoys sitting in their sweaty filth. I can attest to that.”
Eric eyed Ayda, a thoughtful hum escaping him.
I was just about to open my mouth and say something when the vibrating of my phone in the pocket of my cut pulled my attention away. Reaching for it, I pulled it out and saw Slater’s name lighting up my screen.
“Slate,” I answered.
“You got a minute?”
Looking between the woman in my life and the man who left me behind a long time ago, I realized a minute was exactly what I didn’t have. But one subtle glance at Ayda and her set jaw, and I knew she could handle any snark my father had to pass her way. She wanted to be strong. Maybe this could be her first test.
“Yeah, I got a minute.” I stood and turned towards the door of the safe house, pressing the cell closer to my ear. “What’s happening?”
“Jedd thinks he’s seen that ATF chick sniffing about. Winnie or whatever she’s called. Said he saw the same vehicle driving past the yard four times within the same two hours.”
“Has she tried to approach anyone?”
“Not yet.”
“Then she hasn’t got shit. Trust me, I’ve met her. If she had anything on us, she wouldn’t waste time. She’d be straight in that yard with a warrant, and she’d be taking pictures to frame and put up on her animal print bedroom wallpaper.”
“You seen her bedroom, pres?”
“Just know the type when I see them.” I grinned, glancing down at Eric and Ayda.
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about,” he said, sounding shifty. “Are you alone?”
“Do I need to be?”
“Yeah. You do.”
Chapter Seventeen
AYDA
The door had barely swung closed behind Drew when my anger finally flared to life inside of me. There were a hundred things I could forgive a person for. Hell, I’d just walked straight over the fact that Drew had almost killed a woman to punish the man who had killed Harry. What I couldn’t forgive, move past or ignore, was the fact that Eric Tucker had used the situation to his advantage. That he’d manipulated his son.
I’d seen Eric’s face fall when he’d seen me here with Drew. I’d seen the forced smile he’d thrown at me when he’d approached, and I’d seen the tightness in his eyes when he realized I was a full part of this now… Full disclosure.
“You son of a bitch.”
Eric leaned against the railing of the porch as he pulled his riding gloves from his hands. “That in there wasn’t my idea, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart, asshole. Don’t pretend to be innocent here. What did you think was going to happen? You and Drew would have a little secret you could keep from the rest of the club? Something to bond over so you could throw him under the bus later?”
“I know you think you have me all figured out, but you don’t, Ayda.”
“You’re right. I don’t know you, Eric. I sure as shit don’t trust you. You have everyone else believing you were here to say goodbye to Harry, but you’re not fooling me.” His eyes hardened just the same way Drew’s did, but I didn’t care a
bout him. I didn’t care what he thought of me, so I stepped right over it. “If you were concerned about Drew and the guys you’d have been back long before now. Where were you when Drew was in prison after Pete? Where were you when he was almost killed inside?”
Eric opened his mouth, surprise etched on his features.
“Yeah, I know all about that,” I confirmed, shaking my head in true disgust. “And I see that you do, too. Where were you when he was almost ripped apart in that warehouse or almost died from a fever after the fact? Where were you when he proposed to me and was almost dragged under by the Navs? You can’t tell me that you didn’t know about any of that, Eric. I can see it in your face. Every event in Drew’s life where he could have used your guidance, you just ignored and stayed away. Not even him almost dying brought you back. Why now? What’s changed now? What do you want?”
“I don’t expect you to like me. Don’t particularly care if you do. Hell, I’m even okay with the fact that my own son looks at me like he wants to chain me up and flog me for my sins most days. You have questions. That’s fair. Unfortunately, my answers aren’t available right now.”
“They aren’t available?” I asked, my tone full of sarcasm. “That’s really convenient. You may not have instigated this shit show, but I know you had something to do with the secrecy. I know keeping it quiet was your idea.” I laughed once, no ounce of humor in the sound. “You don’t know your son at all, do you?”
I rose to my feet, towering over him being two steps up. I was so confident in my distrust and dislike of this man, it gave me more power. I may not have known much about what was going down, but I knew I wouldn’t let him hurt Drew again.
“I didn’t care one way or the other whether you or the whole club knew about Helen.” Eric tilted his head to one side, the same blue-green eyes of his son shining back at me with a special dose of Tucker arrogance. “What I do know is that Drew called me for help, and I showed up. I’ll continue to show up while I’m in Babylon. I’m not here to make friends. Don’t hate me because he didn’t choose to call you.”
WITHOUT SHAME: Babylon MC Book 4 Page 13