“But she’s still being held hostage.”
“Better by us than some of the other evil bastards out there that will no doubt be wanting to avenge Jon Taylor.” Eric’s jaw tightened, and I narrowed my eyes on him, sensing there was something more to this than he was allowing me to see. “What is it?”
“What?”
“That thing you’re not saying, which, by the way, is unlike you. So, let’s get straight to the point.”
“Fine,” he started, resting his elbow on the chair arm and running his finger over the top of his lip. “I think we need to work toward letting her go.”
“What?”
“Not now, but soon. You’re not going to kill her, are you?
My silence was my answer. Eric could take it however he wanted.
“You’re not, Drew. Ayda wouldn’t allow it.”
I scowled harder. “I love her, but I’m not pussy-whipped, Eric.”
His sardonic laugh was enough to make me curl my hands tighter together.
“Fine,” I all but growled. “Guilty as charged. Helen lives. But I’m not letting her go yet. Not until we know for damn certain she can get the hell out of town. I’ve spoken to Ayda. She wants to help take care of her. If it means her spending more time in the safe house out of the way, actually safe, then I’m all for it.”
“I hear ya.”
“That all?”
Eric Tucker had a lot more to say and a lot more to ask, but his signature nod arrived right on cue, and that meant our meeting was done.
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a woman I need to speak to about living the rest of her life with and a fucking wedding to sort that keeps getting put off because assholes like you keep fucking with my free time.”
“Drew?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, readying myself for another lecture.
“You’re doing good… even when you think you’re not. If you’re ever in doubt, just remember who you are and how many men live for your leadership.”
I blinked several times, trying hard not to show any emotion on my face as I stared at the man who’d created me like he was a stranger I somehow knew. He was a walking contradiction, and I had no idea why I was drawn to him when I wanted to kill the fucker some days.
“Right,” I croaked, quickly clearing my throat, pushing my chair back and standing up in front of him. “Thanks.” My hand found the back of my neck and rubbed it awkwardly.
“Don’t worry. I’m going.” He pushed himself up out of his chair and made his way to the door.
“Stay out of trouble,” I found myself saying.
When Eric glanced over his shoulder, his familiar devil eyes narrowed, and his knowing smirk broke free. “Where’s the fun in that?”
And then he left, leaving the door open so I could watch the way my old man swaggered through the halls of The Hut like he owned it.
Like he built them.
Like they belonged to him.
Like he was fucking home again.
Chapter Nineteen
AYDA
The smell of lavender and coconut permeated the small dingy bathroom of the safe house. Helen Taylor was lying in steamy, fragrant water with a washcloth over her eyes and a coconut hair treatment in her hair. I’d made the mistake of asking what her preferred toiletries were, but it was a small kindness I knew I could offer, and watching the tension leave her shoulders made me feel better.
For a woman who was being held hostage, she was taking the whole thing a little too well. I knew very little about the woman outside of the fact she was Jon Taylor’s wife, but the tentative resolve in which she moved around and interacted with the two men who held her captive in this house threw me. I would have been out of my mind with fear and worry. Not Helen. She had a bullet wound in her arm and barely blinked at the small pink spot that was now clean and healing. Reclining like she was in the bath with the bandages removed, it was very real and startling to look at.
I was sitting on the floor by the door like her personal guard, with a gun in a holster at the small of my back as a negotiation tool. Although she hadn’t tried anything to escape… yet. The silence had been interrupted only by the water as she moved in the big tub and the constant soundtrack of the insects that inhabited the empty space around the structure. My eyes hadn’t moved from the scar on her arm, and the questions just rolled around in my head gaining traction with each rotation.
“I can feel you staring at me,” she said in amusement, her hand lazily rising to pull the soaked material from her face. Turning her head, she gazed at me, a small smile on her lips. “Just ask already.”
Even in this harsh situation, Helen looked like a damn supermodel, her perfect smile not dimmed by the fading mark on her cheek or the tiny scar that looked much older on her temple. It just enhanced her looks—made her look more real. I tried to find a question in the chaos of my mind, but the small sentence that had been on repeat slipped through my lips instead.
“You’re so calm.”
“That ain’t a question.” Her response wasn’t condescending, more filled with humor and endless patience, which only seemed to add more questions to the long list I already had.
I didn’t respond verbally. Instead, taking a page from Drew’s playbook and simply raising my eyebrows in challenge.
“Come on. You think I want to sit here and chat about my thoughts with you?” She draped the washcloth back over her face and slid down into the tub a little farther, sending a small wave of water over the edge.
“You have something better to do?” I countered.
Helen huffed out a laugh, devoid of humor. “I have the rest of my life, no matter how long or short that may be. Doesn’t mean I’m giving you a damn thing.”
I stared at her a while longer, my thumb twisting the engagement ring on my finger. I wasn’t really sure why I wanted to know what was going on in her head.
“You really want to die here?” I asked her.
This got a reaction from her, and she reached up again and clawed at the material and dropped it to the water with a small splash.
“Are you looking forward to your death?”
“Of course not. That’s my point, though. I’m here alone, Helen. Why not talk to me? I could be your best chance of survival.”
“You think I don’t know where your loyalties lie?”
“You’d have to be pretty fucking stupid not to know that,” I said with a small shrug. “But, at this point, what do you have to lose?”
Helen studied me over her shoulder. “What do you want to know?”
“Mostly, how the hell you’re taking this so well and not freaking the fuck out.”
“You mean you haven’t figured it out?”
I shook my head again, and she drew in a long breath, seeming unsure and reluctant.
“You of all people should know why. I married a bastard, Jon...” She sighed again and fell into a conversational tone. “Jon was young and gorgeous when I met him. He’d just started his corrections job, and he was cocky, but he still had a sweet, adoring side to him I couldn’t resist. For the first year we were together, he would look at me with those brooding eyes and tell me that I was out of his league, that he didn’t deserve me, that I was beyond perfect.” Helen looked over at me. “It was hard to resist that level of adoration, you know? When he knocked me up accidentally, his immediate response was to ask me to marry him. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing for us, but he begged me, and I finally broke down. So, we went through with the big white wedding before I started to show everyone I was pregnant. The moment the ‘I dos’ were over, that was when the sweet Jon fucked off and left me with a bitter, jealous, power-hungry asshole who had become my husband. He always had to know where I was, what I was doing. The control and power were always his, and he thrived off it. It’s hard to love a man like that, so brutal and controlling, but in the beginning, you do. You blame yourself. The first time a guy hit on me after giving birth, Jon lost his shit. He accuse
d me of instigating the flirting, and when I argued back, he smacked me. It was only an open palm across the face, but it was enough to get my attention. Then it was too late for me to walk away from him and our marriage. I was in too deep, and he was in law enforcement—a brethren you can’t infiltrate or break, no matter how fucked up that brotherhood is. The abuse got worse over the years. He would beat me until I couldn’t feel my body, then cry about what he’d done once he had to look at the mess he’d left behind, promising it would never happen again. It always happened again. The makeup sex almost seemed worth the pain at first. I know you get that.”
Helen bounced her eyebrows suggestively like I knew what the fuck she was talking about. I wasn’t sure how she’d made that leap, and when she looked at me for confirmation of some sort, I just shook my head. If she expected me to relate to her on that level, she was more than mistaken. Drew was a hard man, but I’d never once been afraid of him. Not for a second. I kept my face blank and just stared at her, my curiosity not allowing me to contradict her because I wanted to keep her talking.
It didn’t take her long. She seemed nonplussed at my lack of confirmation like she’d already made up her mind. Like she knew who Drew was and what he was capable of.
“The first time Jon broke a bone, I think he scared himself more than he scared me, but that was my breaking point. I was done. I wanted out. I needed out. I had my two girls by then, and I wasn’t going to let them bear witness to the shit show Jon insisted on performing almost nightly. I needed those girls to know that abuse wasn’t okay. Women weren’t just punching bags for men when they had a bad day. So I tried to leave.”
I could hear that it didn’t end well in the tone of her voice.
“How bad was it?” I asked, leaning forward, my arms resting on my knees.
“He damn near killed me. It was then that I started having my mom take the girls on vacation more often. I suggested they go to some fancy school we really couldn’t afford halfway across the country, which, thankfully, Jon agreed to. God, when the girls started dating, I was the one who had to hide that shit from their father. Life got both better and worse once they went to college. Worse regarding the abuse, but better because they didn’t have to see that shit, and I didn’t have to hide it. I didn’t have to smile through the pain like I wasn’t broken from the inside out. Life hasn’t been good for me since I met that bastard. It’s been worse since the girls left. So, when Drew stormed in and wanted to kill me with the same rage Jon had always shown, I thought I was going to be finally set free. There was a brief moment of calm before I decided not to die quietly. I still have my girls to think about, after all.” She paused again and met my eyes. “I’m grateful that I’m not dead, and in a fucked up way, I have been set free from the prison of my marriage. Even this,” she said, lifting the arm with a bullet hole in it, “is an improvement to my fucking life with my husband.”
“Drew is nothing like Jon Taylor.” My voice was filled with conviction and vehemence. Drew’s violence came to those who threatened to destroy the people he loved. I never once had to think about how he would react if I did something he didn’t like. He may get pissed, but I usually got pissed right back. That was what happened in relationships. Never once had I ever so much as considered he would turn that anger on me in the way Jon had done to Helen. “Nothing like him.”
“I’m starting to see that. That man hates with a passion that burns him from the inside out. You can’t deny that, but just one minute of seeing him with you, and I know he loves with just as much passion. He would rather protect you than hurt you. That doesn’t take away from the truth of all this, though, and that’s that hard men make it impossible to love them.” She laughed bitterly. “You know, I’ve been waiting for this.” She waved around the small bathroom. “With the amount of shit Jon pulls with those men under his care in that prison, I actually expected this to happen a lot sooner. I even got used to the idea. On truly bad days, I longed for someone to come and kidnap me.”
“The weak link,” I mumbled under my breath, pressing my back against the wall so I could feel the gun pressing into my spine. I refused to think of myself that way now. I wasn’t going to be a tool used against Drew and the club, and this time I damn well meant it.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Drew wants to hurt Jon, he wants him to suffer.” I paused and met Helen’s eyes. “He thought you were his weak link. He thought your death would be enough but...”
Helen smiled at me, a shrewd look in her eyes. “Clever girl. Taking me away was never the way to get in Jon’s head and really fuck with him. If you want to damage him irreparably, you guys really do need me alive.” She rolled her body in the water, resting an arm over the edge of the tub, pressing her chin into the flesh as she grinned conspiratorially at me.
My mind started working, a slow ticking passing by the despicable thoughts. I could see the retribution in the glint of her eyes as she studied me.
“Help me wash this shit out of my hair, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know. I think I may know a few things The Hounds can’t possibly know about. Things that might help them win the war. But, naturally, I also have a few conditions.”
I gave her my best impression of one of Drew’s smirks. “How did I know that was coming?”
“I already told you, honey. You’re a smart girl.”
* * *
I’d left the safe house the moment I’d chained Helen to the bed again, although she was clean and in new clothes, resting on fresh sheets. She looked much happier and satisfied, and she even seemed to enjoy the salad I’d brought for her. I hadn’t made her any promises about what would happen, but I had offered to put the plan in front of Drew and let him make the call. We’d spoken for a while longer, both of us laying down the ideas and conclusions we’d come to. At the end of it all, we found that our thoughts weren’t too dissimilar. She’d attributed that to being around hardened men, and though I disagreed with her, I didn’t dispel her of the notion. She saw this as a connection between the two of us, a link of some kind, and I wanted to let her keep thinking that until I heard Drew’s thoughts on the matter.
I went over everything I’d discovered on the drive back to The Hut, words spilling over themselves in my head as I tried to get my thoughts in order enough to put into sentences. Helen was more than happy to talk to me, and she wanted to hurt Jon as much as Drew did. She was an anomaly that seemed willing to work with us on this, and after her story, I could see why. Jon Taylor was a goddamn monster, and that ran deeper than even Drew could have possibly known.
I pulled up outside of The Hut and slid into my normal space, ignoring the surprised looks on some of the faces on the porch when I hopped out and pushed the door closed with too much force. I spotted Eric’s confident lurch, stepping outside with a beer in his hand and his usual smirk fixed in place. I hopped up the porch steps and ignored the tip of both his beer and his head in greeting. I didn’t hate him quite so much after our confrontation, but I still didn’t like or trust him. He hid too much. His unavailable answers bothered me.
I blinked the moment the darkness swallowed me when I stepped inside The Hut. The darkened contrast to the bright sunshine outside was startling. I heard the usual grumblings from the whores lounging around waiting for something to do, and I waved at the greetings that came from the bar as my eyes finally adapted. I managed to make it through the open floor plan, only to come to a dead stop when I saw Libby rushing from the room she shared with Tate, her face scrunched tight and tears in her eyes.
“Lib?”
She only stopped long enough for her steps to falter and trip her momentarily. With wide, wet eyes she took me in and gazed back at the room Tate was in.
“I just need some time,” she said, moving from a walk to a run as she blew by me. As much as I wanted to follow her, to make sure she was okay, I now had to make the club a priority more than I ever had before. So I let her go, and with a quick glance at her retreatin
g back, I made my way to Drew’s office.
The door was standing open when I approached and leaned inside. Drew was sitting behind his desk looking lost in thought, his handsome face smooth of the worried lines I’d acquainted myself with over the past couple of months.
“You busy?” I asked, slapping my palm against the doorframe to announce myself.
He looked up quickly, his smile slow and inviting.
“Yeah,” he answered smoothly. “Way too busy for you.” He grinned.
I made a face and stepped inside, pausing for only a second as I considered closing the door behind me. I left it open, figuring there was nothing to hide right now, and I crossed the room, slipping into Drew’s lap unapologetically.
“I think I may have something of interest for you,” I said. “I’ve just come back from the safe house.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist, leaned back in his chair comfortably, and looked up at me with a raised brow. “Did you take anyone with you?” I could see the subtle flash of panic in his eyes, even though he tried to fake it with a nonchalant approach. “Were you safe? Not followed?”
Running my thumb over his bottom lip, I smiled down at him. “I followed your protocol to the letter. No one followed me. I made three wrong turns before I made the one to the safe house, and there were no cars close to me at any time. I was also very safe, and I had my gun with me. I listen to you.”
“Get naked right now.”
I moved my hands to the button of my pants and popped it open with no hesitance. “Do you want to know what I found out now, or after you’ve fucked me on your desk, oh mighty, powerful fiancé?”
Pressing a hand over mine, he stopped me in my tracks, his eyes soft but somehow commanding. “As much as I’d love to bend you over and hurt you in ways that would make you beg for more, I know how this goes. We screw, we lose track, we forget why you came in here, and then we happen to be one step closer to that football team I’m wanting. So, for the sake of all our brothers… tell me what you know.”
WITHOUT SHAME: Babylon MC Book 4 Page 15