WITHOUT SHAME: Babylon MC Book 4

by James, Victoria L.

  I reached for his hands and leaned in, lowering my voice. “Why, though? Why would he be so hell-bent on fucking with our club? With you? I figured it had to be the governor or someone putting pressure on him, but if this is coming from Mayor Walsh, what is his motivation?”

  “Maybe I fucked his wife once?” He smirked.

  I rolled my eyes, mainly because I knew what Mrs. Walsh looked like. I’d spent time with her at football games. She was gorgeous. She was where Rubin got that beautiful olive skin tone and his deep, dark eyes.

  “Drew Tucker, cut that shit out. You’re turning me into one of those jealous women. Next thing you know I will go Lorena Bobbitt on your ass, and then who will you run to?” I shook my head playfully. “But I’m being serious. Why us?”

  He winked, which was his way of offering me a silent apology for the fucking Mrs. Walsh remark, and then he tugged on my fingertips and looked down at our hands. “Helen told us that she knows Walsh is working with The Navs. She didn’t know the connection, but if that many men inside were stumbling into her unit, and enough of those were Navs who mentioned Walsh while they were high on morphine or whatever else she was pumping into their systems—telling her they needed someone to get him on the phone or get him to Huntsville, we have to believe they’re in with him deep.” Drew looked up through hooded eyes, his amusement fading away with every second that passed. “I don’t know Walsh’s game yet. I don’t really know why Travis, Trigger, whatever the fuck he’s called came after us that night. All I do know is that it had nothing to do with that Emp we buried on their turf. It can’t have been. There’s more to this, and that is what led to Harry dying in Huntsville Prison rather than in our arms.” His jaw set tight, the mention of Harry’s death tasting as sour to him as it had done the day of the phone call that told him he was dead.

  “It bothers me, all this,” I admitted quietly.

  “I know.”

  The not knowing bothered me to the point of distraction. Even if Mr. Walsh worked with the Navs since he’d taken office, or even before, there had to be a reason he was coming after the club now. Why wouldn’t he have acted when Drew was in prison for five years? None of it made sense to me. If Walsh worked with The Navs, he had to have known that Travis had shot his brother, and yet, he came after the hounds. Long before I had met Drew, I’d heard the mumblings about The Hounds and how people perceived them, but it wasn’t enough to destroy lives to get them out of town. I also wasn’t convinced that money was enough of a motivator for the likes of Walsh or Travis. Surely if that were the case, Walsh would have come to the club that occupied his town rather than go to a bunch of outsiders run by an unstable man who bordered on insane. Travis was a loose cannon. I swallowed the nagging curiosity and ran my fingertips against Drew’s, looking up into his eyes.

  “You only need to know one thing, Ayda,” Drew whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  “I only struggle when I don’t know who my enemy is. Once I know, no one works faster or harder than I do. I have a name in my mind. I have a target.” He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pushed his lips out. “Whatever Walsh is up to, he’s going to regret it. By the time I’m finished with him, he’s going to wish he were dead. I only see one real problem here.”

  Our eyes searched each other’s, our thoughts mingling together until they became one and the same. Before either thought much of it, the same word fell from both of our lips.

  “Rubin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  DREW

  Two days I waited. Two days. Rubin had been hanging around The Hut like a bad smell every day of the week, but the minute I needed to actually talk to him, the little ghost decided to fade away on me. Tate didn’t know where he was and he didn’t seem care. The only things Tate focused on these days were his bike and his boner. We’d created a fucking monster.

  When Rubin eventually rode into the yard on his bike one afternoon, I made sure he didn’t get away.

  “Rubin,” I called from the back of a Ford F-150 we’d pulled in fresh that morning. I’d been clearing it out, removing some raggedy old tarp that had been tied to one corner and left for months, if not years.

  Rubin looked up, his face brightening and offering me a smile.

  I hopped down from the Ford and made my way to Rubin, looking like a man with a purpose. No point pretending to be anything other than I was anymore. It was hard to miss the subtle scowl of confusion that creased Rubin’s brow as he watched me marching forward, but he straightened himself out and waited patiently.

  “Hey, Drew.”

  “Kid.” I threw my arm around his shoulder. “Where the hell ya been?” Not stopping, I kept on walking, taking him with me and guiding the two of us across the yard, over to The Hut.

  “Erm…” He scowled again, glancing at the hand on his shoulder before he looked back up at me. “School stuff. Parent stuff. Wait, am I in trouble?”

  “Trouble? Why would you be in trouble?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Can’t be in trouble if you ain’t done nothing wrong, Rubes.”

  “Rubes?” He raised a brow, not looking away from my face as we hit the steps that lead up to the wrap around porch.

  “It’s either that or Pubes. You decide. Everyone in this place needs a nickname at some point.” I pushed open the door, letting it swing behind us and shut with a thud. The bar wasn’t that busy. Most were either out riding, in the yard, working, training, or in bed sleeping the afternoon away like lazy motherfuckers. The only people that occupied the space were a few Hound Whores, Deeks, Owen, and Moose.

  Everyone looked up when we arrived. The Hound Whores still gave me the subtle sexy eyes every now and then, despite Ayda practically running the joint these days, but the thought of fresh blood around the place, even if he was an underage high school kid, always piqued the thirsty girls’ interests. Their shoulders straightened, their boobs pushed out, and the way they began to slap their gum around inside their mouths was almost comical. Poor kid would be getting a chubby every time he walked in the place at this rate.

  “Rubin!” Deeks greeted from his stool at the bar.

  “Hey, Deeks.” He waved again. Polite kid. Not bad for someone so capable of delivering a vital gunshot that saved a life. I knew it was why Deeks had taken to the kid more than any of us.

  “Where you been?” Deeks asked, patting the bar top in a silent request for us to join him for a drink.

  Rubin slid into place on the stool beside Deeks, while I made my way behind the bar to play bartender. Something I rarely did for anyone around here.

  “Why is everyone asking that?” Rubin asked, glancing between Deeks and me with shifty eyes.

  Deeks laughed roughly, lifting his tumbler to his lips and speaking against the rim of the glass. “Nice to be so popular around here, huh?”

  The Whores giggled behind him, and Rubin glanced around, his face lighting up exactly like a teenage boy in a whorehouse should.

  “It’s not all bad,” Rubin answered quietly, offering the girls an ill-rehearsed wink before he spun back around and rested his arms on the bar. “Is Tate around?”

  I shrugged, looking bored, even though I was smiling.

  “I think Ayda and him have gone someplace together. I saw Tate climbing into one of the repo cars with her earlier,” Deeks told him.

  News to me, I thought, but I left those thoughts in my mind, not letting them show on my face. Ayda would be safe. She always was. Except for when she wasn’t, but I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to trust her. The Bonnie to my Clyde.

  “Shit,” Rubin cursed, not needing to filter his cuss words here. “We had that English paper to work on together.”

  Deeks laughed again. “Good luck with that. Tate hasn’t done any serious studying outside of studying the mechanics of a bike or the female workings of a body since…” He paused, glanced up at the ceiling and frowned. “Lord knows when.” His eyes fell back to
me. “We should do something about that, Tucker.”

  “Feel free to offer up study sessions any time you like, old boy.” I gave him a half smile.

  “Less of the old. I’m vintage. Darn youngsters.”

  It was my turn to softly laugh before I spun around, opened the fridge, grabbed two beers and turned back to offer one to Rubin.

  His eyes widened as he stared at the bottle that had drips of condensation falling down it.

  “You allowed this shit?” I asked, at least pretending to be responsible for just a second. He was drinking it whether he was allowed or not.

  “Probably not.”

  “Daddy got you on a leash?”

  “He wishes.” Rubin rose from his stool and reached out for the bottle in my hand.

  I glanced at Deeks and saw the unspoken questions in his eyes. A sly wink from me told him to play along. Thank God for the Hounds and their silent language. It came in useful on occasions like this. Uncapping the bottle, I passed it over to Rubin and then fell back to lean against the back of the bar, crossing my legs at the ankles and sinking a hand into the depths of my pocket while my other lifted my beer to my mouth.

  Rubin looked at his beer, blinking for a brief second before he whispered under his breath. “Fuck it.”

  “Atta boy,” I chuckled, watching as he sat back in place and chugged a third of it in one. It wasn’t the first time he’d drunk in this place. He and Tate were doing it all the time on a weekend. They’d sit on the sofas, surrounded by the women when Libby wasn’t around, and they’d slide each other shots of whiskey and bottles of beer all night long.

  But this was early afternoon and a midweek day. Rubin knew what happened when you had one beer in this place. It always led to fourteen more.

  “God, that tastes good,” he gasped as he rested his bottle on the bar top.

  “Your old man not like you drinking?” Deeks asked, his body turned to face Rubin, leaning against the counter. He looked like an all-year-round Santa Claus, ready to extract truths and secrets from anyone willing to talk to his innocent-looking face.

  “Dunno.” Rubin shrugged.

  I scowled. “Surely he knows you’re dabbling in the stuff at your age.”

  Rubin picked at the bottom corner of the label on his bottle. “Ya kidding? That would mean him paying attention to something other than his own ego.”

  I sucked air in through my teeth, creating a low whistle. “I sense tension.” I raised a brow.

  “Nah.” Rubin shook his head. “Tension means there’s an issue. Like… one of us is mad at the other or some shit. It ain’t like that between us.”

  “What’s it like?” Deeks asked softly.

  Rubin shrugged a shoulder again, looking up at Deeks. “He’s just someone I know.”

  I knew that feeling. I thought of Eric again, my face falling as I filled my lungs with all the oxygen they could hold before I released it through my nose and took another sip of my beer.

  “That’s kinda sad,” Deeks offered with genuine sympathy.

  “You guys never talk?” I asked Rubin.

  “Only when I fuck up.”

  “Fuck up how?”

  “You know. Bad grades, detentions, hanging around with Tate who suddenly isn’t good enough anymore according to Dad.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” I whispered sarcastically.

  “He doesn’t know shit. I’d tell him, too, but it ain’t like he’s ever around or that he’d even listen.”

  I cleared my throat quietly, rolling my shoulder. “Where is he if he ain’t with his family?”

  Rubin glanced up at me, his frown weak as his eyes searched mine. “Why you interested in him all of a sudden?”

  I turned the corners of my mouth down, trying to look as uninterested as I possibly could. “Just making conversation.”

  “Which is so not like you.” Rubin smirked, and something about the way it looked on him made me smile to myself. It was a carbon copy of mine, the little fucker. I already had Tate copying my every move; now it looked like this kid was, too.

  “Fine.” I huffed. “Change conversation—”

  “Hell to that,” Deeks interrupted, shuffling closer. “Forget Tucker. I want to know. What kind of bastard father doesn’t pay attention to a kid like you? A good kid. A solid kid. A lot of families out there would be proud as shit of you, boy.”

  And that was why I loved Deeks. It was why I missed Harry, too. The world needed more people like that: people who could get through to others because they genuinely gave a shit.

  Rubin hung his head for a second before he took another sip of his beer and dropped it back down into place. “Sorry, Deeks. I guess I get a little paranoid around here sometimes.”

  “Why you paranoid around here? This is a safe place for you. You earned it.”

  “No, I know I did. But, you know, I guess I just figured you guys would think I was some kind of rat, given who my father is.”

  I closed my eyes slowly and waited. Fuck.

  I hadn’t told Deeks or any of the boys yet. I’d been waiting for… what? I didn’t even know.

  “Who’s your father, son? The Grim Reaper?” Deeks laughed roughly.

  “Pretty much,” Rubin answered with a serious face. “You don’t know who my father is?” He looked over to me at the same time I peeked one eye open, scrunching up one side of my face. “You didn’t tell them?”

  I sighed, tilted my head to one side and shook it. “Didn’t see the point. Thought I’d save you the paranoia but doesn’t look like that worked out.”

  “Who is it?” Deeks interjected.

  “Mayor Walsh,” Rubin answered.

  Deeks’ cough burst out of him like a phlegm-filled rocket, making Rubin lean back as Deeks slapped his chest and took a minute to regain some composure.

  “You’re Walsh’s boy?” he croaked, his head snapping my way in disbelief. “And you knew?”

  Keeping my lips pressed together, I smiled as high as I could, creasing my eyes shut.

  “Do the others know?” Deeks asked.

  “I don’t want it to be a problem,” Rubin said urgently. When I looked at him, I could see the mild panic in his eyes. “I like it here. I’m friends with Tate. I don’t tell nobody nothing when I walk out of those gates, I promise. I wouldn’t ever—”

  I held my hand up, cutting him off before I pushed off the back of the bar, dropped my beer on the counter surface in front of Deeks and Rubin, and I leaned in closer to them.

  “Will you two quit acting like pussies for just one goddamn second?” I raised a brow, watching them both turn to me in surprise. “Rubin,” I started, focusing on him. “We can’t help who brings us into this sorry little world. I’ve got no issue with knowing who your father is. You know what will happen if you ever cross us, I know you do. You’ve already seen things in here that will stay with you for the rest of your life. You’re a smart kid. You’re bright. Brighter than I ever was, or any of the other scruffy fuckers around here.” Deeks coughed to clear his throat, and I shot him an amused side-eye before I brought my attention back to Rubin. “You know what we’d do to you if you ever hurt The Hounds, and that’s not because you’re Walsh’s boy. It’s because it’s what we’d do to anyone. I trust you, so cut the paranoia out of your life. It ain’t worth the wrinkles or the shriveled dick. You’re good.”

  Rubin’s shoulders instantly relaxed, a small nod of understanding showing his gratitude. “I promise I never would. You guys are like family to me.”

  “Works both ways,” I assured him before I turned to Deeks. “And you…”

  Deeks held both his hands up in the air, admitting defeat before I even started to say anything. “Your club, your rules, your way.”

  “That’s why I love you, brother.” I grinned.

  “You gonna tell the men about it?”

  “When the time is right. No need to add more worry to their shoulders right now, hey?”

  “Do you think they’d be pissed wit
h me… for keeping it from them?” Rubin asked quietly, looking around the bar to see if Moose, Owen, or any of the other women were paying any attention. They weren’t. They couldn’t give a shit. Moose was slumped in his chair, asleep. Owen was leaning over a low table working on some books, lost in concentration, and the women were too busy pushing their tits up and reapplying their twelfth coat of that shiny, sticky lip gloss I hated so damn much. When Rubin looked back, he leaned in closer, just in case. “Do you think they’d trust me less?”