He was right about the distraction, I was already allowing my head to take me down the path he’d just opened up, and I wasn’t really sure this was something that could wait. Helen had given me some food for thought, but I was also pretty sure she was holding shit back until she had the deal she wanted. Time was important.
“Did you know Jon Taylor beat his wife?”
“A man like him? It was a given.”
“He almost killed her. He beat her in front of her kids, controlled her every move. He was an animal, and she was stuck.” I looked down at him and offered a small smile. “It also made her hate him. She wants to live, Drew, so she’s willing to make a deal with you. I think she knows more than she told me just now. I think she’s waiting for you to be willing to talk to her.”
He was looking straight into my eyes, but I could tell his head was somewhere else. He was more capable than he realized that way. The man’s mind was a maze of thoughts, structure, strategies, plans, and motives none of us could ever navigate.
“You think we can trust her?” he asked quietly.
“Honestly?” I paused, not really needing a response. “I think we can trust how much she loves her kids and hates Jon. She mentioned conditions to her cooperation, but the most she would give me was that she wanted to disappear with the girls. I believe she’s willing to stay dead in the way she’s dead now.”
“A cover-up?” He frowned. “Helen wants the world to think she’s dead?”
“She’s scared. She wants to get as far away from Jon Taylor as she can get, and she wants her girls to be free, too. It could be worth at least talking to her.”
“If people think she’s dead, they’re going to look for her killer. That shit’s going to lead straight back to us. After Harry, The Hounds are under the spotlight. The only way I can make Helen appear dead is to make sure she is.” He pulled his chin back, inhaling through his nose before he released it slowly. “The only person who thinks she’s dead so far is Jon Taylor himself. We’ve been keeping our noses and ears to the ground. Sutton hasn’t reported any missing persons, and… wait.” He stopped, tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “First Eric came in here talking to me about Helen. Now you. I’m repeating myself here. Are you two working together to convince me—?”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” I asked before he could finish the absurd line of thought. “Eric and me working together on anything? Jesus, Drew. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I got some information from Helen. I figured you’d want to know about that, and when she made the offer just now, I told her I would relay the information, but that was it. I’m not up to anything. I just know you can’t keep her locked up forever.” I placed my hand on his heart and inhaled a long breath. “I feel bad for her, too. Jon Taylor was such a bastard. He broke her bones and almost killed her, and… Drew she thought that’s who you were, too. She saw you as controlling, full of rage, violent. I just saw how broken she was and figured that this could be her way out.”
Drew placed his hand over mine and pressed it to his chest. “Ayda, I shot her in the fucking arm,” he whispered, face serious and eyes calm. “She has every right to think I’m controlling, full of rage, and violent. That’s exactly what I was and who I was that day. It’s who she’s seen me be a few times at the safe house. And I have no right to hate Jon even more for what he did to his wife and kids than for what he did to me, but I do. I really do.” His jaw clenched again, his head shaking slowly as he looked at me. “The double standards of the president of The Hounds of fucking Babylon, hey?” He sighed, moving his hand away from mine, reaching up to pinch my chin between his thumb and finger. “I’ll talk with Helen. I’ll see what she has to offer. But I’m going to need you there. I’m going to need you to be the reason while I’ll probably be the roar.”
I leaned toward him, my forehead touching his. “Where else would I be?”
He smiled his smile, pushing forward to kiss me. The kiss wasn’t passionate, but more reassuring. When he pulled away, and we opened our eyes, he was nodding slowly, like he’d made some resolution in his thoughts while we’d been connected. Like he was realizing a truth or something was clicking into place for him.
Raising a hand, Drew cupped my cheek, dusting his thumb along my skin with a tenderness reserved only for me.
“I know you don’t doubt me,” he began in a heated whisper. “I know that when I push, you push back harder. I know you love me enough to be in denial most of the time about what a cruel bastard I can be. I know I’ve sheltered you from who I’ve been in the past and who I’ve been even while with you. I know all these things and more. I know you’d still love me even if I told you I murdered fucking kittens because that’s just who you are. Loyal. Committed… Mine. I know that you’re mine no matter what I do, but I need to say this anyway. I need you to know… I’m capable of many, many coldhearted things, Ayda—and I’ll be honest, I don’t give a fuck what happens to Helen Taylor when I compare her to my family, my brothers, and you—but one thing I’m not capable of is hurting you that way. I could never lay a hand on your skin in temper and be able to look myself in the mirror the next day. I can assure you of that. And if I ever did… I want you to be the first person to put a bullet in me and take me away from this life. Because if there ever comes a day when I lose myself enough to hurt you that way, then I’m too far gone to ever bring back.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew he would never hurt me. I’d told Helen the very same thing with conviction, but the sincerity and love in which he said this now left me with only one choice… so I leaned in and kissed him, showing him that I would follow him into the depths of Hell if he needed me to.
Just him, me, and the fire.
Chapter Twenty
DREW
Ayda made it clear she wanted to get back to Helen quickly. There was something about her since she’d been to the safe house. A quiet panic, maybe? Or perhaps she was just a woman wanting to rescue her fellow woman. Whatever it was, I respected her enough to let her lead the way on this one. There was something about Helen that made me… nervous. Not enough to stick a bullet in her head, but she was connected to Jon Taylor, and I wasn’t so naive as to imagine she hadn’t picked up a few of his tricks along the way.
Tate had caught Ayda’s attention as we were walking through the bar. The shot glass in his hand as he leaned over the bar had stopped her in her tracks, leaving me to walk outside while she gave the kid a lecture he definitely deserved. His attitude hadn’t gone unnoticed around here lately, but after what he’d been through that night at Rusty’s, none of us were hypocritical enough to hand him his ass on a platter. We left that to Ayda. After all, Tate was only sixteen. Too young to have seen what he’d seen. Too old for us to convince him that it had never happened at all.
The door to The Hut hit the frame just as I heard Ayda’s raised voice carry itself throughout the bar. A small smile tugged at my lips as I went to stand on the top step of the porch and look out over the yard. My home.
Our repo truck was occupied by Slater. I had no idea what he was doing in the front seat, but he was leaned to one side, looking down toward the radio, probably seeking a tiny bit of solace around here. There weren’t many places you could go to escape.
When I looked over at the pawnshop, I saw the door propped open and assumed one of the guys was in there. Maybe Jedd. Probably Owen—the slimeball. Since Harry had gone, he’d been lingering around more, taking more interest in the business side of things and the books. A figure to my right caught my attention, and I glanced that way, slipping my hands into the depths of my jean pockets and raising my chin only to see Rubin cycling towards me with a goofy smile on his face. I found myself smiling right back
The kid had earned our respect around here. I liked him. He was a happier, more enthusiastic, natural version of Tate. Don’t get me wrong; I loved Tate like a brother. He was my brother. Soon, that would be official by law. But Tate was all grunts, muscle, frust
ration, and he was becoming more and more controlled by his dick rather than his brain. Rubin was an innocent version of that. He seemed to find happiness in the simple pleasures.
Dropping his bike to the side, he hopped off it and marched closer to me with a swagger he hadn’t carried before he’d made that all-important shot that night.
“Hey, Drew,” he said, slightly out of breath.
“Kid.” I nodded.
“You out here surveying all that you own?” he asked, standing next to me and glancing down at the stained president badge on my cut. It was something he always did. Like he couldn’t quite believe he’d got an in to The Hounds of Babylon.
“Something like that.” I smirked.
Rubin nodded too, copying my stance and glancing up at me from the corners of his eyes. It shouldn’t have, but it did my ego good to have someone like him look up to someone as screwed up as me. It meant not everyone could see the darkness that lurked within. Or if they could, they saw more about me that they liked than they hated. That had come to mean a hell of a lot to me since meeting Ayda and my whole life changing.
“I like it here,” the kid said. “Feels like… home.”
“You’re welcome any time.”
“I know.” His smile broke into a grin, his happiness at my approval clear to see. “Tate around?”
I turned and gestured to the place where the lecture was happening. “In there, suffering the wrath of Ayda when she’s pissed.”
“Ouch.” Rubin hissed.
“You should go and save him.”
“Right.” He laughed, his eyes drifting somewhere behind me, and then narrowing as his face fell a little. “What’s up with Deeks?”
“Huh?”
“Deeks?” He pointed over my shoulder to where the outside benches sat, pressed up against the walls of The Hut. I turned to see Deeks sitting there, clutching a picture as he held it between his parted legs. His chin was to his chest, and all the light and positivity he usually carried around with him was gone.
“I don’t know,” I muttered to myself. Not looking back at Rubin, I patted him on the shoulder, effectively dismissing him and saying my goodbyes without having to say shit. My feet moved on their own, the concern for my brother—the club’s next best thing to Harry—taking over.
He didn’t so much as flinch or look up as I walked closer, even though I knew he could hear the scuffing of my heavy boots over the loose gravel.
The closer I got, the more I could see the despair on his face.
“Deeks?” I said his name carefully, but he didn’t look up. He just kept staring at the picture he was holding at the edges in both hands, his eyes lost in a memory I couldn’t see. “Deeks…”
He looked up at once like he’d been snapped out of a trance, his whole body shifting and forcing him to sit upright, let go of the picture with one hand in an attempt to straighten down his denim cut.
“Sorry, Tucker. Didn’t see you there.” Deeks ran the back of his hand under his nose quickly, sniffing back whatever emotion was clogging his throat.
I frowned instantly.
Shit.
“Have you been… crying?” I asked, careful not to disrespect him or overstep the mark. I may have been the president of the club, but when it came to the history of it all, Deeks was the leader who had never wanted to lead. He wanted to build the empire from bricks and blood. He wanted to protect it by any means necessary. But he had no desire to be in control. He liked being led and offering his two cents whenever the opportunity arose.
Just like Harry, I thought as I watched Deeks fight to regain composure.
“No,” he croaked, clearing his throat soon after and smacking a balled-up fist to his chest.
I sighed heavily. The weight of grief was fucking heavy. It made us weak…. broken boys instead of sadistic beasts.
I moved, dropping down onto the bench next to him and leaning forward so he didn’t have to look at my face, and I didn’t have to look at his and make him uncomfortable. I stared out at the warehouse and buildings we owned, at the empire we’d built, at the yard that was our safe ground, and up at the sky where Pete and Harry were watching over us. Dropping my hands in between my parted legs, I twisted my fingers together and let the silence linger a while before I spoke.
“Jesus, I must be bad,” Deeks muttered roughly, trying to let a hint of laughter in but it came out as a rough squeak of awkwardness.
“You can’t help being ugly, brother.”
“It’s the emotion. The color doesn’t suit me.”
“Nope.” I sighed, tapping a foot to an incredibly slow beat. “Doesn’t suit any of us but we still insist on letting that shit control us these days.”
“Fucking Harry,” Deeks whispered.
“Fucking Harry.” I nodded, watching as a crow flew overhead right on cue. “Always thought he was a funny bastard.”
“Sometimes he was.”
“Sometimes,” I whispered. “Yeah.”
The silence lingered again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a beautiful thing to be able to sit with your fellow man and have no need for meaningless words. It was also pretty fucking beautiful to be able to speak from the heart, too. I’d not said enough to the men I’d already lost. I’d made a vow to myself never to let things go unsaid again… if I could help it. Everyone knew I was shit at sticking to vows like that.
“Found this stupid picture earlier,” Deeks said, interrupting my thoughts and holding it out for me. He pushed it over my lap, letting me take it while barely moving my hands. When I looked down, I saw the three of us together in one shot. Deeks, Harry, and me. I was in the middle; my face turned to the side as I protested about something. My face was scrunched up, my eyes tight, but my smile clear. Harry had an arm wrapped around one of my shoulders, Deeks claiming the other. Deeks had feigned a punch to my gut, and Harry just looked smug as shit as he let a smoke hang out from his smiling lips, his middle finger aimed straight at the camera.
You could practically smell the smoke, whiskey, and testosterone. I didn’t remember the picture even being taken, but the feel of Harry’s presence was something I could never forget.
“It doesn’t even mean anything,” Deeks whispered roughly. “It’s not a birthday. It’s not some woman grinding in his lap. It’s just a day like any other day when he was around. That stupid bald head with that ridiculous tattoo up the back of the neck. That smug smile.”
“His eyes,” I found myself saying as I stared into them. “Those fuckers could break even me.”
“Especially you,” Deeks added, forcing me to turn and look at him. Man, I hated seeing someone so usually strong look so fractured.
I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tight as I looked into his eyes. “I love you, brother.”
Deeks swallowed, his smile flat but proud as he raised his hand to my shoulder and squeezed it with affection, too. “You’re a good man, Tucker. Probably has something to do with that beautiful woman of yours.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I laughed softly, dropping my hand and turning back to face forward again. “We all know you love my woman, Deeks.”
“Oh,” he said, laughing, too. “Damn right, I do. That girl is a firecracker. One this club needed. She’s like a daughter to me now. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“What?” I glanced over my shoulder to look at him.
His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his smile rising slowly. “Means I get to kick your ass if you ever hurt her.”
A swift punch landed just under my ribs as Deeks lurched forward, causing me to laugh and tuck my body into one side. Within seconds, he was rubbing the top of my head in a way he hadn’t done for years, and for just a second, I felt free again. But when the laughter faded and he fell back into his seat, taking the picture from my hand to hold in his again, that light gray cloud hovered overhead.
The door to The Hut opened right on cue, and Ayda stepped out onto the porch. She didn’t say anythi
ng when she saw us. She just looked our way with a warm glint in her eyes and waited.
“Speak of the she-devil,” I said quietly, turning back to Deeks. “The wifey calls.”
“Go get her.” Deeks jerked his chin in her direction, and I didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up at the sight of Ayda close by.
He was a damn good man. One I’d not acknowledged nearly enough in my life. One I didn’t want to imagine ever losing. I stood up to leave but only made it a few steps away before I found myself turning back to him.
“Brother?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“You’re just like Harry to me. I’m sorry if I’ve never told you that before. Keep smiling. He needs that of you now. We all do.”
Deeks’ chin jutted back, his head dipping as he cleared his throat again and ran the back of his hand under his eye.
We didn’t need to say anything else.
Sometimes silence said it all. There were only so many ways for each and every one of us to bleed out. We’d done enough of that, both emotionally and physically. Now it was time to make others bleed instead. It was time to do whatever we had to do to protect our club.
* * *
We pulled up outside the safe house, neither one of us needing to say anything. Ayda had clung to me more than usual on our ride over. Her cheek had pressed against my back like she couldn’t get close enough.
When she got off the bike, her hand immediately sought mine until she’d managed to twist them together. I led the way, guiding us up the stairs before I pushed the door open to see Helen laid on the bed as usual. She looked different this time, though. Her hair was clean. Her face, too. When her sleepy eyes opened and she saw us there, a weird smile fell into place. She looked…
Happy?
Was that even the right word to describe someone being held hostage? She definitely looked calm.
WITHOUT SHAME: Babylon MC Book 4 Page 16