Without Forever: Babylon MC Book 5

by James, Victoria L.

  And right on cue, the sound of several Harleys drawing into the yard outside made the ground beneath our feet shake—the noise I’d once lived for now sending cold shivers of dread down my spine.

  “Ask the Lord, and you shall receive,” Trigger whispered.

  I closed my eyes, squeezing Ayda’s hand tight, and I did that thing I’d refused to do a lot of in my life.

  I fucking prayed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  AYDA

  I’d always thought the sound of the cavalry showing up so quickly would make me feel better; that the familiar sound of those Harley’s pulling in behind us on any battlefield would be a comfort. They’d managed to get here so quickly. So much faster than the last time we’d found ourselves in a precarious situation such as this one. Only this time, I didn’t feel like I was about to be rescued. I didn’t feel like we were out of trouble.

  It didn’t take much to understand that Travis had not only expected this call for backup, but he’d planned for it, too. From the look on his face and the cackle of laughter, he’d actually fucking hoped for this to happen.

  The crazed glint in the president of the Navarro Rifles eyes made him look scarily maniacal. Travis wasn’t looking at me right now, though. His eyes were on Drew. All of this was for an audience of one with the sole purpose of torturing Drew any way he could.

  Slater and Jedd were the first to enter the warehouse. Both of them had their guns raised, and their steps were cautious as they rounded the corner, waiting for the situation to present itself. The moment the two of them saw the odd altar with Drew, Travis, Eric and me staged in front of it, they froze in place. Neither one of them seemed sure what to do next, but it was too late, anyway. Another four Navs stepped out from the shadows with their guns aimed true at our men’s heads.

  So much for small numbers.

  “I’m impressed,” Trigger spread out his hands like he was a leather-clad messiah and smirked. “Why don’t you take a seat and join us, boys? The party’s just getting started.”

  With a glance at Drew, both Jedd and Slater stepped forward, remaining flanked by the armed Navs.

  Deeks, Kenny, and Moose came next, already disarmed as they were followed by another four Navs who had assault rifles pointed at their backs. I was pretty sure that there would be no more rescuers. I figured they’d have left some of the guys back at The Hut to keep it safe. But, before Travis could go on, another disturbance came through the back of the building, and two more Navs pushed Ben through with such force he lost his footing and hit his head against one of the rusted old machines at the back.

  Ben hit the ground hard, a loud crack breaking the odd silence that I hadn’t realized had descended over us.

  I tried to move to help him without thinking, but I was pulled back by the grip on my hand, my body brushing against Drew’s, while my eyes watched a slow, steady stream of blood pool around Ben’s head. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, his eyes opening as he raised a weak hand to his temple. Ben wasn’t dead, but he was no use to Drew now.

  My movement seemed to attract Trigger’s attention, his upturned palms balling before releasing again. He still didn’t think much of women from what I could remember of our last meeting. His dark eyes assessed me coldly, disgust passing behind the soulless pits as his lip curled to reflect his distaste. To Trigger Gatlin, I was merely a means to an end, a tool to be used against Drew. The chill in his eyes made my stomach roll violently because it was at that moment that I truly understood what my part was in this little performance he was putting on.

  Drew cared about a lot of things in his life, and he loved a lot of people, too. Over the course of our relationship, however, he’d made it more than clear to his friends and enemies that I was important to him, and Trigger knew that to truly hurt Drew, to really get under his skin and wound him, he had to hurt me first.

  I was expendable. His plan would be to torture me and kill me, then he would move on to Drew’s brothers, completely obliterating what was left of the club before killing him, too. He wanted to hollow Drew out and send him into Hell with nothing but the dark, desperate memories that would stay with him in his damnation.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  I wouldn’t let that happen.

  Glancing up at the man next to me, the man I loved, I ignored the growl of Trigger Gatlin. That silent communication we used so often and came so naturally made it easy for me to let him know I was ready for this fight, that I wasn’t going to cower, and I wasn’t going to risk our child either. I was going to fight for our family, every last one of us, and I would fight for survival, even if I had to kill for it.

  “Looks like we have the last of our witnesses,” Trigger mused with smug satisfaction, drawing my eyes to him. “Now, where was I?”

  “How long have you had this planned, Trigger?” Drew asked. There was a steely coolness in Drew’s expression, his voice calm yet powerful.

  Trigger turned to Eric, pointing up at him before he glanced over his shoulders to look at every Hound, including Drew. “Does this look at all familiar to you?” He frowned. “A recreation of anything, perhaps? Like you’re experiencing deja vu? I can’t quite put my finger on where I’ve seen this before.” Trigger ran his hand over his chin, his expression turning pensive. This great act of his now in full flow before he brightened and dropped his hand to click his fingers together. “Oh, that’s right.” He nodded slowly, moving closer to Drew until he was standing toe-to-toe with him. “This reminds me of the live footage Chester Cortez streamed to me of you hanging in chains, blood oozing out of your fresh knife wounds. It reminds me of the way you swung helplessly in those chains, the rattling metal sending delicious shivers down my spine when I realized that you, the once great, formidable Drew Tucker, was about to die at the hands of the weaker enemy: those stupid, gun-happy, over-inflated egos we used to laugh at. The Emps.”

  A few chuckles of rough laughter came from behind us, The Navarro Rifles men clearly enjoying their position of power.

  “Tell me, Drew,” Trigger began, “how did it feel to know you were bested by those fools?”

  “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?” Drew said through gritted teeth. “I’m flesh and bone. They’re nothing more than ash.”

  “Hmm.” Trigger smiled. “So you are.”

  I probably should have been shocked that Trigger had such an insight to our own personal nightmare, but the whole situation with Owen, and learning about how deep his betrayal ran, I wasn’t—not even close.

  Drew shifted, leaning closer. “You want my flesh, Trigger? Come and fucking get it,” he ground out. “But quit the dramatics. I’ve played enough games with enough pricks to last me a damn lifetime. For once, I wish an enemy would have the balls to cut to the chase and get to the point. This flair for wanting attention y’all are breeding is really starting to piss… me… off.”

  Trigger’s face fell instantly, his eyes turning icy as he stared right into Drew’s.

  “What. The fuck. Do you want?” Drew whispered coolly.

  “Nothing you can provide me with can get you out of here, Drew,” Trigger answered, his voice as low and steely as Drew’s. “You involved us when you buried that Emp on our turf. You disrespected our club when you acted out ghastly deeds wearing a fake tattoo of our patch on your skin. You put the target on your own back when your actions resulted in the death of one of my own—”

  “Hove?” Drew laughed, making Travis and me flinch in surprise. “Jacob Hove is why I’m here? I don’t recall being the guy who put that bullet between his eyes. That was you.”

  “Opinions vary.” Trigger smirked. “Few people know that. What would our families think?” He sighed softly.

  “They’d probably wish it was you who took the fall, not him. I’m sure their lives would be richer without—”

  Travis struck out, the gut punch he planted in Drew’s stomach so fast, it had almost been impossible to see. Drew’s groan was deep as he bent forward,
curling himself into the left where Travis had landed a hit on him.

  The satisfied look on Trigger’s face was despicable and made my anger rise. It felt like my insides were too hot to contain.

  “Does the truth hurt, Travis? Do you forget how well I know your mom?” I smiled cruelly. “You know, she hated the way Jacob was always seeking your approval. She said it would only get him into trouble one day. I don’t think that it would surprise her to learn that you shot him in the face point blank to prove a point.”

  Travis didn’t try and hit me as I’d expected him to. Instead, his hand grabbed my chin roughly, angling my face, so the spit from his forced words laced my cheek. “My mom thought you were a fucking cunt. I say it takes one to know one, right?”

  I smiled at him. “Mommy issues?” I asked, trying not to make a sound to alert Drew that Travis was squeezing harder.

  A familiar roar of anger was set free, and before Travis could offer any retort, Drew had moved, grabbing hold of Trigger’s neck with every ounce of strength he had. His face was twisted with rage, veins popping in his head as he growled and tore Trigger from me, throwing himself on top of him, sending Travis to the ground with such force, his head was the first point of contact, connecting with the edge of the raised platform that Eric was swinging upon.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her,” Drew spat, using all his power and might to pull himself back just enough to swing his arm up and back down onto Trigger’s jaw.

  Drew had been quick—his reaction had been faster than any of Trigger’s men had been expecting, so it took a moment for them to catch up. All of their guns moved from The Hounds to Drew, and the Nav closest to us pushed the barrel of his 9mm to the back of Drew’s skull and made him freeze.

  “Now that’s the Drew Tucker we all know and hate,” Trigger grumbled, spitting blood from his mouth and smirking. He glanced up at me and back at Drew with a smirk that was too calm. “Every time you throw your fists around, I will give your bitch a new scar to take to Hell with her.”

  Drew closed his eyes, his breaths ragged as his whole body sagged.

  Trigger rose, his body stumbling to the side, which only made his sadistic laughter grow as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Hell of a good fighter, though. That could work in your favor today.” Trigger tugged on his cut to straighten it down, his chest rising as he pulled in a breath of air and surveyed everyone within the warehouse with a terrifying amount of control.

  It was only then that I allowed myself to listen to everything else going on around us. I could hear the grumblings of every man I’d ever shared The Hut with—their growls and fights quieter than Drew’s had been. When I turned to look back at them, each one was being held by two or three men, their arms pinned behind them as their fight became weaker.

  “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total bastard,” Trigger said smoothly, pulling my attention back to his smug face. His eyes were zoned in on mine, focused. “I do believe some people are entitled to a happy ever after, don’t you, Ayda? Good people. They deserve the chance to fight for their fairytale ending.”

  There was no answer I could give him that would satisfy his sick need to gain the upper hand and use us as puppets in this little production he’d organized. His smug smile only grew as I glared at him.

  “Come on, it’s a simple question.” He reached out to touch me, and the growls that spread around the place just made his humor more evident, even as I swatted his hand away. He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Shall I let Drew fight for yours, Ayda? Shall I let them all fight for your happiness? Let some of them die so you get to live your dream?”

  “No.” If he thought for a second that I was willing to sacrifice even one of these men for my life… he was wrong. So very wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  DREW

  “Too bad you think you get a say in any of this, little lady,” Trigger told her, his smile making my stomach twist up like a thousand knives were stabbing the lining of it.

  If Ayda got hurt, I’d lay my body at their feet, look up into their cold, angry eyes, and I’d tell them to take out my beating heart and put it in a fucking trophy cabinet for them to fawn over for the rest of their lives.

  A victory! Look who took down the president of The Hounds of Babylon, once and for all.

  Like any of that shit even mattered.

  The 9mm pressing into my skull wasn’t enough of a deterrent for me.

  I glanced up at my father, watching his face, studying it for just a heartbeat more than I should when I thought I saw the gentle fluttering of his lashes as his body swung in subtle waves. He was alive. I could feel it in my soul.

  The Nav behind me pressed down harder, making sure I could feel every bit of the cold metal against my head. On my knees, they thought I was helpless, but I’d been on my knees a thousand times before and survived. I could take that gun out of that pussy’s hand without breaking a sweat, and suddenly it seemed worth the risk. There was just something I needed to do first.

  “Trigger?”

  He spun around slowly, the movement smooth and controlled. His eyes were wide as he looked down at me, the master of the universe, while I looked up at him, temporarily helpless in his eyes, my club at his mercy.

  “I’ll fight,” I told him, ignoring Ayda and her wishes. “If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll fight for her happiness. I’ll fight for all of them. If that’s what gets you off, and if that’s what all this is about…” I glanced around at the altar, the flowers, the ropes around the edges of the setup, and at the chairs he’d lined up for some private viewing. “I just ask one thing first, before any of this happens.”

  Travis turned his intrigued smile upside down, and he tilted his head to one side.

  I held eye contact with him for an uncomfortable amount of time, not blinking, watching his every twitch, his every fluttering of confusion he struggled to hide behind a fake smile, and I watched the way, as time went on, his shoulders relaxed, as though he didn’t have to be on high alert with me on my knees in front of him.

  Then I moved quickly, dodging to the side so fast that the guy putting all his weight down on the gun against my head stumbled forward, losing his footing enough for me to bring the edge of my palm down over the gun he was holding and watch as it fell to my feet. There was no scrambling, no plea for survival, or any poor timing on my part. I had that gun in my hand the second it bounced, and then I jumped up on my feet, ignoring the weapons that were moving closer around me, and I pressed that fucking gun against The Nav’s head, holding myself upright as I glared right at Trigger.

  “Do not fucking underestimate me throughout any of this,” I told him, my jaw tense, and my eyes murderous. “You might know what you’re doing, but I can assure you, I do, too.”

  “Always so dramatic,” Travis smirked. “You never disappoint, Tucker.”

  “I never miss a shot, either, so bear that in mind when you’re fucking with me, Travis.” I raised my brow—jaw tight.

  “Noted.” Trigger tipped his head in acknowledgment before he took a step closer to me. “But my men never miss either, and you’re currently outnumbered three to one. Unless you want me to give the signal for one of mine to put a bullet in one of yours…” He held out his hand for the gun in my grip, waiting patiently.

  I glanced up, looking at my brothers.

  Slater was furious, his face set to thunder. Jedd looked more patient, a calm having washed over him that only Jedd could ever carry in such circumstances. Kenny was weighing up how to help—I could tell by the way he was looking in every visible corner of the warehouse, checking the high windows, scoping out the place. Moose was, even under the circumstances, waiting for my instruction, and Deeks…

  Deeks looked fucking sad as he stared at me, the oldest of us all, tired and worn out with this side of life as much as I was.

  I thought of Harry.

  I thought of Pete, too.
>
  And then my eyes found Ayda’s as I slowly let my shoulders sag and held the gun out for Travis to take from my grip. He knew what I could do. I’d had my way for a minute. Now it was time to play his games.

  Once the gun was in Travis’s hand, the Nav I’d taken out groaned and got to his feet, stumbling to the side before Travis jerked his head, effectively dismissing his own brother. The guy left, having failed his club, and I saw the anger in the way his fists curled in and out beside his thighs as he begrudgingly walked away.

  “Brothers,” Trigger called to his men. “Bring them closer.”

  Jedd, Slater, and the rest of them were pushed forward, and hisses of cuss words thrown back at The Navs came from each and every one of my guys, as the Navs tugged them back sharply, making them freeze in place behind the row of white chairs that had been lined up in front of the altar.

  Trigger turned to Ayda.

  “Unfortunately, this isn’t going to be pretty for you.”

  Ayda scowled at him, turning up her lip in disgust. “Fuck you.”

  Travis huffed in response, and he signaled to one of his men. Ayda was grabbed from behind, her upper arm used to drag her to the altar where my father was hanging, blood still dripping in slow falling, lengthy droplets from the corner of his mouth.

  There was a desperate need for me to cry out and tell Travis to leave her alone; she was pregnant. But I knew men like Travis, and I knew they would use that as even more leverage.

  Travis came closer, so there was barely any room between us. “I have a proposal of my own to make to you.”

  My scowl was immediate—silence my only response.

  “You’ve done a lot to piss me off, Tucker. You and your merry band of fools don’t need to look for trouble, that much is clear. It finds you. You’re incapable of living a quiet life, of keeping your head under the radar, of being a true tactician and a worthy outlaw. You let your emotions sit on the surface, which lands you and those you love in trouble at every turn. If you keep that up, you’ll be dead before you get a chance to walk your pretty little lady down the aisle. Or she’ll be dead because of you.”