The guy had no idea how crazy I could be.
“Drew!” Jedd called again. “Get out of the fucking—”
He rode closer, and just when I wasn’t sure if he was going to swerve, the Nav twisted his bike to the right, gliding around me in a flurry of activity, his body nothing more than a black mass of leather and grease as I slowly spun on my heel and turned to face the direction he’d ridden off in.
Had the guy had any sense, he’d have carried on and hit the roads out of Babylon, but he wasn’t here by chance, and I, more than anyone, knew this little performance was both planned and for my benefit.
When he stopped and spun the bike around again, his hand twisting the throttle as he revved the engine, I tilted my head to one side and offered him a sarcastic smile, my slow blink controlled.
Ayda is going to kill you, I thought to myself.
The Nav set off again, repeating the same process, testing my nerve and seeing defiance glaring back at him before he swerved around me on the right, riding back to his original position.
“I don’t like this, Drew!” Slater called out to me.
“Stay where you are, Sarge,” I warned him calmly, never taking my eyes off the target in front of me—the enemy on my turf.
“He’s not going to go around you a third time.”
“I’d be pissed if he did,” I muttered to myself, holding my position.
The Nav’s bike roared to life again, charging straight at me.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And at just the right moment, when he was far too invested to ride away from his commitment, and I was so close I could see the rise of his cheekbones, I moved fast, my body shifting as I reached into the band of my jeans, tore out my gun and fired it straight at the front headlight before I fired off a second shot at the front fender.
The bike swerved wildly, the rider’s body going rigid and his mouth falling open the second he realized he’d lost control.
It took less than two seconds for the sound of his bike hitting the metal gates of the yard to occupy the air. The Nav bailed before impact, throwing himself to the side and letting his modified Harley V-Rod take the full force of the crash. It buckled against the metal, the back end rising before it all came to shit and fell to the ground.
Squinting against the smoke from the tires, I let out a sigh of frustration and walked over to The Nav. He was a crumpled heap beneath my feet, curling up into himself and clutching at his ankle. His weathered face was creased with pain—his eyes scrunched together as he whispered something I thought was Spanish.
I crouched down and rested the hand holding the gun over my knee. “Name?”
“Fuck you,” he spat.
“Your mother must have hated you.”
The Nav looked up, his hatred for me palpable before he raised his chin in defiance and muttered something else I didn’t understand. Whatever he said, it was far from a compliment, the venom in his words producing spit on the harsh rise of his voice.
I rolled my eyes and sighed again, not looking at him before I twisted around and pressed a hard hand on his injured ankle. He gritted his teeth instantly, his hiss of pain making my body sing.
“You sound in pain, brother. Pity.”
“I’m not your fucking brother, hijo de puta,” he spat. His phlegm landed on my cut, and I looked down at with a raised brow.
I reached up to wipe away the flecks of moisture slowly before I looked up at him through hooded eyes and tensed my jaw. My teeth ground together and nostrils flared as I stared at him. The Nav swallowed hard. “Don’t ever do that again,” I warned him, my hand twisting around his ankle with a grip so fierce, it made my fingers throb.
He cried out, the agony making his body twist to the side and his back to arch.
When I released him, I stood, dropping only to fist the hoodie beneath his cut before I dragged him up to me like he was nothing more than a stray dog. I pushed him toward the gate his bike had created a massive dent in, and then I threw him against it before dropping back down to crouch in front of his crumpled body.
His face twisted, and sweat dripped down his cheeks. I leaned closer to smell his fear.
“You stink like shit, brother,” I told him quietly. “Like trash. I like to keep the streets of my town clean, which means you aren’t welcome here.”
“Tu club se está muriendo. Tus calles ya no importan.”
“If you have to insult me in another language, you’re no threat here.”
The Nav curled his lip in disgust. “Your club is dying,” he whispered.
“We’re all dying, brother. Some sooner than others.”
His eyes searched mine wildly, and a quiet hum of tension took over. I heard some of my men move around behind me, right before the bike was backed away from its collision spot by them, the creaking of metal and the sound of glass hitting the ground taking over.
The Nav’s eyes drifted to the left, and I reached up to squeeze his chin, forcing his attention back to me.
“Count yourself very lucky I didn’t aim four inches higher and a little to my right. Your heart was in my line of sight, hermano, and I let you live. But let me make one thing crystal clear. If you ever follow and intimidate my girl again, I won’t just shoot you in the chest. I’ll tear you down and stick my gun up your ass before I fire upwards to make sure your heart stops beating. Do you understand me?”
I squeezed his chin harder, forcing his mouth to pop open.
“Do you understand me?” I growled quietly.
It pained him physically and emotionally, but he nodded anyway, his acceptance of defeat a blow to his ego and probably his reputation with The Navs, too.
“Did Trigger send you?” I asked him.
“Fuck you,” he whispered.
I blew out a heavy breath and shook my head. “You people never learn.”
“It’s The Hounds who never learn. You’re in so deep, and you can’t see your end is in sight,” he croaked.
“It seems you know more about my own club than I do. Enlighten me, bleeder.” Releasing my tight hold on his chin, I reached up and wiped away a strand of blood that had broken through the grazed skin on his left cheek. “Tell me why Trigger sent you. Deliver your threat. Make me tremble with fear.” Then I wiped the blood from my thumb down his other cheek, never taking my eyes from his.
“Keep your father off of Navarro Rifles’ land, Tucker,” The Nav said coolly.
“My father?” I asked, looking up to find Eric through the gates. Standing next to him was Ayda, her eyes fixed on mine intently.
“His threats against us can’t save you. If the ATF has something on you, keep it on you. No more deflecting to us. Trigger is watching—always watching. You don’t even know. We all are.”
“Trigger is watching us?” I smirked, turning back to him and leaning in closer. “Us?”
The Nav nodded once, swallowing his ball of fear again, no matter how small he tried to keep it.
“Then he should know that I’m about to bring him and all his crooked army down. Taylor’s already dead. Walsh may be next. After that, who knows where I’ll lash out? I’m not playing anymore. You tell him that from me.”
That set him off, his rambling in Spanish sounding like a yapping puppy I wanted to roll over with the front end of my bike. Looking up at Eric and Ayda again, the blood rose in my cheeks along with my need to hurt something or someone. As the shit bag next to me spoke, and the more he went on with his rambling, the angrier I grew.
Not at Eric.
Not at Ayda.
Not at any of them.
I was angry that someone had the nerve to threaten me and my family again. I was angry I’d let them all think I’d become that soft, and it was around the point of The Nav’s ramblings turning to Spanish again that I finally had enough, and my fist lashed out to connect with his jaw.
“That’s one way to shut a man up,” Slater sighed above me when the enemy crump
led to the ground in a heap.
My response hung on the edge of my tongue, cut off as a slow-rolling vehicle turned onto our street, the familiarity of it not lost on me. I rose at once, stretching out my legs as I turned toward the mid-afternoon sun.
“ATF,” I whispered. “Great.”
“Want me to do anything?” Slater asked.
Glancing down at the unconscious Nav at my feet, I closed my eyes and gave myself ten seconds to come up with a plan. When I opened them again, I found myself spinning back around to the cop car and waving my arms in the air for them to stop.
“What the hell are you doing?” Slater mumbled, and the rest of my brothers grunted behind me.
I stepped out into the street, flagging the car down, and when it stopped, I made an effort to jog to the passenger window, tapping on it for them to roll it down.
The two cops I’d given snark to before looked at one another, their confusion clear before the one nearest to me reached for the gun on his belt.
Time to act, Tucker.
“Boy, am I glad to see you guys,” I huffed out, faking breathlessness. The Owen Wilson lookalike glared at me, his scowl deep like he was waiting for this to be a setup.
“What’s happened here?” he asked, gesturing to The Nav and his bust-up bike.
I looked behind me and pointed at Slater. “My man was just about to call 911. This guy here was riding past our yard, firing off shots in the air blindly. I’ve got women in there, man. Women. We came out, opened up the gates to try and wave this guy down, and the next thing we know, he’s hit something on the road, his front end has gone, and he’s smacked straight into the gates, twisting himself up. He looks pretty beat up from the fall.”
He glanced at his partner before looking back at me. “And let me guess? This guy who happened to run into your property just so happens to be a member of a rival MC. An enemy?”
“We have enemies?” I frowned hard, pulling my chin back and tugging down the peak of my cap.
“Cut the shit, Tucker.”
“I thought all our enemies were dead when they tried to blow us, the innocent ones in all of this, up. Remember? The warehouse job gone wrong...” I pressed my hands to the window frame of his door, leaning forward and holding eye contact as the guy quizzed me with expressions alone.
“Funny how you always claim to be innocent.”
I grinned as I panted for breaths and shrugged a shoulder. “Sometimes the truth just happens to be funny, sir.”
“Sir?”
“I can call you buddy if you like.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t welcome here, Tucker.”
“Neither are these delays. We need to get this guy a medic of some sort. Get the cops down here. Let them review this shit. Sutton will help. If The Navs are coming after us at The Hut, we’re going to need you guys to keep an eye on things.” I glanced back at the yard, seeing Ayda’s beautiful face staring back at me. “I have my girl in there, officer. I can’t let anything happen to her, no matter what.”
The cop sighed as he brought his radio to his mouth, pressed the button and called for assistance.
When I turned back to face my men and my girl, it felt like every damn one of them had their mouths hanging open as they stared at me.
Everyone except her.
Chapter Twenty
AYDA
I’d changed in the past couple of months. I’d been through so much shit, seen so much crap, and lived through nightmares that the person I had once been no longer existed.
And I didn’t miss her at all.
Standing at those gates, watching Drew with those agents... it became so clear to me.
I wasn’t condemning him for his lies. I wasn’t doubting his tactics, and I wasn’t standing there wondering if he’d lost his mind because I knew he hadn’t.
I was standing at those gates thinking: This man is a goddamn genius.
There was no way of following through with this lie of the bike crashing, especially considering there were bullets in the bike, but that didn’t matter. This was a point that needed to be made, and he’d made it. The bike was now on our property—the very property owned by Drew, Eric and The Hounds of Babylon. Conveniently, Texas had what was called the castle law. You were well within your rights to protect your property if you were threatened, and I had no doubt in my mind that The Nav was packing heat.
Drew was also using this opportunity to send a message to anyone willing to take him on now. It was a declaration. He wasn’t fucking around. This wasn’t a game he was playing. All of his pieces were slowly coming together and he was willing to act—to do what he had to do in order to protect what was his.
This was a warning to Trigger and anyone else who thought we were fair game because the ATF happened to be on our doorstep.
We weren’t going to back down now.
Not in the twenty-fifth hour.
Not when it counted the most.
Not when we had this much to lose.
The tactician in Drew was smart, collected, and deadly in ways most people couldn’t conceive. This was beautiful to watch in action, and, though it was probably just my opinion, it was hot, too. Standing with the rest of the club, watching him bullshit his way through an interaction with the cops was just the tip of the iceberg. When I met his eyes, all I could do was offer a small smile of encouragement, and wait for the cavalry to arrive.
* * *
It didn’t take long for the agents to realize they would have to be the ones to arrest the guy. Continuing the concerned citizen act, Drew even offered to load the bike and drop it off at Sutton’s office. Once the ATF had driven away with the Nav face first in the back seat, the yard cleared of Hounds quickly. After his quick assessment of the bike, I’d followed Drew back into The Hut.
“You want me to grab the keys to the truck?” I asked, needing something to do before the crash from the short adrenaline rush hit.
Drew turned to look at me, those blue-green eyes of his narrowing ever so slightly as a look of concern took over. He opened his mouth to say something, clearly thinking better of it before he swallowed whatever words had been there and offered me a gentle nod. “Sure thing. You want to ride out with me?”
“Hell, yeah.” I started to back away from him, turning on my heel and disappearing into the office before he could respond. I grabbed the keys to the flatbed and met up with him again in the bar, where a few of the guys now lingered, as though waiting for something more to happen. The Nav on our doorstep had managed to put everyone on edge, and for good reason. I’d hated that we’d been the catalyst to his faux pas—that we’d given him an opportunity to stroll up to our door and deliver a bullshit message that hadn’t really needed to be said. We were in the middle of a damn war, and none of us needed reminding of that. Glancing around The Hut, the evidence of its effectiveness was clear. Thankfully, the only person with even a modicum of calm now was Autumn who was chatting with some of the girls while playing cards in the corner.
God bless that woman for being as steady as a rock, I thought as I caught up with Drew. I followed him out of the door and turned to where we normally kept the trucks, aiming the key fob at them to unlock the flatbed we needed. That’s when I found myself blinking stupidly at the empty parking spot, then down again at the keys in my hand.
“Uh, Drew…?”
His gaze followed mine, a slow look of acknowledgment flashing in his eyes before he looked back to where The Nav’s twisted bike should have been. Slater hopped off the porch steps, his boots kicking up dust as Drew turned to him and pointed to where the bike had disappeared from.
“Slate? Where the fuck is the bike?”
Slater frowned. “Eric said he was bringing it into the yard. Didn’t you hear him?”
“Eric?” Drew growled, his face dropping and jaw tensing.
“Yeah. But…” He looked between Drew and me. “Ah, shit.”
Drew turned to look at me, his anger evident. “Eric’s taken the damn bike, ha
sn’t he?”
“He must have taken the spare key to the flatbed and got the bike on.” I looked at the gate again and shook my head. “But why? Where would he have taken it?”
“If I know Eric—” Slater began.
“He’s gone to deliver it back to The Navs himself,” Drew whispered, cutting Slater off. His eyes glazed over as he looked over my head, his thoughts and theories making him distant. “The bastard has a death wish.”
I wasn’t sure that was the case.
As much as Eric and I had our differences in the past, I was beginning to see that all of this secretive shit he was pulling was his attempt to help. He obviously had a plan of his own, and I wanted to believe that it was to protect Drew. I just wasn’t sure if Eric understood that Drew had already set a plan in motion before he tore off and did shit like this without consulting anyone else first.
“What do we do? Do we go after him?” I asked, looking between Slater and Drew.
“We?” Drew asked calmly. “Wherever Eric is right now is not a place for any ‘we’, Ayda.”
“It was a royal we,” I corrected him quietly, grabbing for my phone that was suddenly vibrating against my ass. Glancing down at the screen, I saw Sutton’s name printed across it. What now? suddenly became the loudest thought in my mind as I glanced back up at Drew and Slater. “It’s Sutton.”
Swiping the green circle on the screen, Sutton’s voice filtered out from the cell long before I could get the thing to my ear. It was unusual for Howard to be anything other than composed, but I could hear the worry in his voice long before I could make out what he was saying.
“… and Drew okay—” he said hurriedly.
“Howard?” I interrupted before he could continue with his panicked diatribe.
“Drew! Is he with you, Ayda?” I glanced up to meet Drew’s eyes.
“I’m looking right at him. Why? What’s going on?”
A long-suffering sigh filtered down the line. “We have a Nav being booked in at almost the same minute that the insufferable Winnie woman and her boys here start talking about a warrant.”
Without Forever: Babylon MC Book 5 Page 14