Without Forever: Babylon MC Book 5

by James, Victoria L.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  DREW

  Eyes I’d craved to see again stared down at me.

  Shades of blue I remembered well—the memory distant and groggy in my mind, but there nonetheless.

  Shades of blue that reminded me of home: safety, warmth, passion, and strength.

  She was smiling as tears fell down her rosy cheeks.

  Her face was a dream.

  A beeping noise grew faster somewhere to my left, but all I could focus on was Ayda as my body throbbed to life.

  My eyes felt sticky, glued together by sleep—sleep that made no sense to me. I’d been away from her for too long.

  I opened my mouth to speak, the word I wanted to say getting stuck in the back of my dry throat as I studied her beautiful face. It was a face an angel could only dream of possessing, and one I wanted to spend forever waking up to.

  “A-Ayda?”

  She released a chirp of sound before she leaned down, her lips now closer to mine.

  “Oh, Drew. You scared me.”

  I bathed in the sound of her voice. So real. So alive. “S-sorry,” I croaked, not really understanding what I was apologizing for, but hating the pain that creased her face.

  The beeping seemed to grow louder, the noise gathering momentum at the same speed of my aching heart.

  “You came back to me,” she whispered as a loud commotion stirred behind her. “You did it, Drew.” She pressed her palm to my cheek carefully.

  The contact made me suck in a breath.

  More memories attacked.

  Waking up to her against white sheets. The sunlight shining across her golden skin, prickling from the way I trailed a finger up and down her arm.

  Ayda showering while I watched, taunting myself with a craving I was waiting to sate.

  Her among my brothers, laughing and joking, her smiles like a galaxy of stars among an oily ocean of leather and darkness.

  “You came back,” she repeated softly.

  A soft smile tugged at my cracked lips as I looked into her bright blue eyes and whispered roughly, “You’re the only place… I wanna be.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  DREW

  Since waking, the men had been drip fed into my room over a period of days. I was broken and receiving sympathy that didn’t sit well with me. Sympathy should be saved for those who hadn’t walked into the lion’s den the way I had so willingly. My protests went ignored. They were giving their sympathies to me whether I approved of them or not.

  Ayda barely left my side—her smile forever fixed in place every time she looked over and saw my eyes open. Every now and again, she would stand by my bed and press her fingertips to my heart, and her eyes would mist over with gratitude.

  My body had been in pain for days, but Ayda’s heart had suffered just as much.

  After some emotional reunions with Slater, Jedd, Deeks, Kenny, Tate, and the others, it was finally time for me to see my father and the kid brother I never knew I had.

  Brother.

  The thought of what we could have been to one another, had we known, haunted me every time I thought about it, but I shut those thoughts down most of the time with a reminder to myself that, while Rubin hadn’t had it easy with Mayor Walsh, he’d also never had to put himself too close to the blade to survive the way I had.

  There was a small grain of gratitude toward my father and Carolyn Walsh for that.

  Ayda had been making small talk to keep my foggy mind busy while we waited for them both to arrive, and I was grateful for her efforts, though they still didn’t stop my heart beating faster when Eric gently tapped his knuckles on my hospital room door before he opened it up slowly, his eyes instantly connecting with mine.

  There isn’t a son in the world who doesn’t long to see pride shining from their father’s eyes, but even I had to admit that the sight of it took me by surprise when he walked in with a tired-looking Rubin following behind.

  Ayda’s hand slipped into mine and squeezed gently. “Hey, guys.”

  Dad tipped his head at Ayda, with Rubin offering a feeble wave and a soft, “Hi,” before he took me in for the first time, and his face fell.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  “I know I look bad, kid, but is it really that bad?”

  Rubin stood there, his expression blank.

  “We need to work on his game face,” Eric said roughly.

  “No kidding.” I smirked, leaning back on my pillow and releasing a tired sigh. “It’s nice to see you, too, Rubin.”

  “Sorry, Drew. I just couldn’t imagine it being true, that’s all.”

  “What?” I arched a brow, eyeing him as he shuffled and tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down over his bunched up hands.

  “That you could ever get beaten that way.”

  I felt Ayda’s hand tense in mine for only a second before it relaxed again.

  “This is what happens when a sadistic fuck is given too much power,” she said quietly.

  “She doesn’t mean me,” I whispered back at Rubin, tipping my head her way while offering him a paralyzed wink.

  A quiet snort fell from Ayda. “They know that. I have better names for you.”

  “I can imagine,” I mumbled to myself, looking up at Dad who was standing at the end of my bed, his good hand now tucked deep inside the pocket of his jeans. He was wearing his signature flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, open at the chest with a dark gray T-shirt underneath. The man wore his clothing like a uniform—a signature look he somehow managed to carry off like he invented it.

  “Missed me, Eric?” I asked playfully, my throat scratchy and sore still.

  “Yeah, actually.”

  “No sarcastic comeback. Wow.” I glanced at Rubin. “Don’t tell me y’all have gotten boring since I got knocked out.”

  Rubin looked up at Eric, his eyes wide before he let them drop back to me, and I wondered if he saw it the way I could see it so clearly now—the way I should have seen it all those days and weeks before. He didn’t look the same as Eric and me, but Rubin held the same respect for those he saw as above him, and he carried himself in a similar manner. Honesty shone from his face, whether he meant to hide it or not, and he always found a way to read the room he was standing in.

  “What’s wrong, Rubin?” I asked quietly, knowing he had lots of things to say and many questions to ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re a really bad liar.”

  Rubin looked at Eric yet again, as though seeking permission for something I clearly wasn’t aware of.

  When Eric side-eyed him, he gave a subtle nod of approval, and I watched as Rubin’s shoulders fell with relief. He moved across the room carefully, coming to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Ayda. There was a look in Rubin’s eyes I’d never seen before—a peace, almost, and a young boy who was transitioning into the man he’d always wanted to become.

  “I spoke to my dad the other day,” Rubin began.

  “Yeah?” I croaked, clearing my throat and looking at Eric who was giving nothing away before I looked back up at Rubin.

  “Yeah.” Rubin nodded. “I got to sit down opposite him for the first time properly. We were like two adults having this conversation I couldn’t keep up with at first. He was throwing all these words at me I didn’t understand, saying he was sorry, asking for my forgiveness and begging me to give him a chance.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “Weird.” Rubin sighed. “He said he’s made a lot of mistakes in his life, done things he shouldn’t have done. Said things he shouldn’t have said. Hurt people he shouldn’t have hurt. He told me he always managed to sleep okay at night because, deep down, he thought his intentions were good.”

  Good? I wanted to cry out. Walsh didn’t have a good intention in his bone marrow, and he wasn’t the kind of man to beg for forgiveness. All my nerves were tingling, waking up from their slumber, telling me to say something that would wake Rubin up from this dang
erous path he was about to go down, but then he spoke again, and everything I wanted to say got swept away with the words he breathed in front of me.

  “Do you believe him, Drew? Do you believe our dad? Do you think his intentions have always been good?”

  He knew.

  The kid fucking knew.

  My lips parted in shock, and I turned back to Eric, eyes wide and heart beating in that hectic rhythm it had gotten so used to recently.

  I stared at Eric Tucker like it was the first time I was seeing him, and there he stood, proud and unashamed, an innocence shining through as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “Well, Drew?” Eric asked, bunching his shoulders together. “Answer your brother. Do you think your father’s intentions have always been good?”

  “I can’t believe you found the balls to tell him,” I whispered back, my lips barely moving.

  “Where do you think you got your balls from, son?”

  “You could have given me a head’s up.”

  “I asked him not to,” Rubin said, bringing my attention back to him. He was now smiling too. A glint of excitement shining from his eyes. “Brother…” he added.

  “Holy shit, the kid’s got balls, too.”

  “Not really. I’m not brave like you—more relieved to know that the man I shot isn’t my real dad. Relieved to be away from him. Relieved that I don’t need to feel guilty about not feeling guilty that he’s going to spend a long time in prison... some of his sentence thanks to me.”

  “That’s a lot of relief.” I sighed.

  “Maybe you can teach me to be brave one day.”

  “As long as he teaches you to be brave and not stupid,” Eric interrupted. I didn’t need to look at him to flip him the bird, my own weak smile trying to break free when I heard his responding laughter.

  “How do you feel about it, kid?” I dared myself to ask.

  “Honestly? I don’t really know yet. I guess it makes sense why The Hut always felt like home, and why defending The Hounds always came so easily to me. It was like some kind of…”

  “... connection,” I finished for him.

  “Yeah. An indescribable bond that didn’t make sense to me when written on paper, but made sense to the way it made me happy to be around Tate and you guys.”

  “You’ve always been a part of my family, Rubix cube,” Ayda teased. “But once Drew makes an honest woman of me, it’ll be official.”

  “And once Ayda stops calling you Rubix Cube. That’s way too cute for a Hound.”

  “Still better than some of the names I have for you.”

  I squeezed her hand back as firmly as I could, which, given my current state of being weaker than piss, wasn’t very firm at all. “Ah, my sweet, loving future wife.” I smiled up at Rubin. “Don’t you just love her and her smart mouth?”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  DREW

  After my time in hospital, Ayda nursed me back to health the way the doctors told her she should, only adding a flair of Hanagan aftercare that proved to be more powerful than any drug I could ever have been prescribed.

  The progress was slow at first. That tired, beat-up body of mine had had enough of life, enough of me putting it in the path of danger every chance I got, and enough of my shit. Any thoughts I had about being stronger than any enemy were blown to pieces the first time Ayda had to help my limping body make it to the bathroom to take a piss.

  The need to exert my masculinity over her was replaced by my admiration for the raw power of her femininity and the way it exuded a strength too powerful to be contained in something as simple as muscles.

  She took charge of me, my recovery, and the club.

  She ran the businesses as best she could with a lot of help from the guys, offering them advice and stepping up to help with the plans to rebuild the training room into something fresh and new. Watching her blossoming into a role she seemed born to be in was a thing of beauty. The men around me didn’t just love her, they respected her too. The Hound Whores had found a place in their hearts to take her in, every woman who once stared at her with narrowed eyes now finding a way to smile shyly, offer her a wave, and ask her if she needed any help with anything.

  I may have been the president of the club, but Ayda was the fresh glue securing us all together.

  Weeks seemed to roll on by with news coming in about Mayor Walsh and The Navs along the way. It seemed Winnie did, in fact, have her sights set on a major takedown that would lead to her getting a promotion within the ATF, and a move to where she wanted: to live and work in Washington, D.C.

  After Jedd’s deal with her, and him having worn a wire inside the warehouse, they’d secured enough evidence to send Walsh down for a series of charges, including conspiracy to commit murder, blackmail, embezzlement, racketeering, false testimony… the list went on and on and on. Carolyn Walsh was still living in their home in Babylon, and even though I’d yet to go and meet with her and tell her this for myself, being Rubin’s mom had earned her a lifetime of protection from The Hounds if she needed it. I could only hope that Walsh hadn’t turned her against us along the way with his false accusations, need for revenge, and desire to see us buried six-feet underground.

  It turned out Travis ‘Trigger’ Gatlin had been involved in so much more than any of us could have ever predicted. Harry’s and Clint’s letters had given us clues into corruption, but the depths of that corruption were unfathomable. Money laundering, drug trafficking, talks of human trafficking, too… you name the crime, and Winnie and her men had found links that traced back to The Navs. How much Walsh was truly involved with was anyone’s guess, but his face had appeared on every news channel within the state of Texas—his name living on while his life would forever be spent behind bars.

  Justice, it seemed, had been served.

  Sutton’s station was back under his command—the ATF sated with their need for something big to secure their superiors for a while. I didn’t need to say the words to him directly, but seeing him riding around in his cruiser, his cowboy habits back in place, made me happier than I could ever have imagined it would. Babylon may have been ours to protect around the borders, but the heart of it belonged to Sutton. I guess it always had, and the two of us had a bond thicker than blood—one the Drew Tucker of twelve months ago would have found nauseating to even think about. He was my brother in arms, and even though I wasn’t in a rush to, I’d lay my life down for him and his girls as much as I would for the men with the hounds and reaper on their backs.

  Sometimes enemies are only enemies because we’re too afraid to admit we see something in them that we admire way more than the stuff we see in ourselves. Humans are fucked up creatures, made from blood and complications, living their lives with fear they refuse to acknowledge in their hearts. That fear keeps us away from some of the best things we could be blessed with.

  I was happy to be blessed with Sutton now.

  Rubin had taken to spending his days at The Hut and had worked alongside Ayda to give me a headache most days with the need to ask me if I was okay every two damn minutes. He was taking his new role as my younger brother seriously. But as the weeks passed by and turned to months, and my movement increased, along with my desire to spend quality time with those who mattered, I found myself wanting to take my new role as his older brother seriously, too.

  We’d often be in the yard, looking over the repo cars and the bikes, and I’d look up to find Eric standing on the porch of The Hut with his arms folded over his chest and his attention on the two of us. He didn’t have to say it, but my old man was proud to have his sons together, I could tell—even more than he was relieved to have the secret off his shoulders. The weight of that had held him down and kept him away for years, and as stupid as that seemed to me now, I, more than anyone, knew how easy it was to make a snap decision that changed the course of everyone’s lives for the worse.

  That fragile life of mine had flashed before my eyes one too many times. Any grudges I fe
lt against my father had fallen away with the ghost of who I used to be before Ayda came into my life and dragged my body into the light.

  She was four months pregnant now, her stomach barely showing to those around us. They’d taken the news of her pregnancy and latched onto it like it was the miracle they’d all needed at the time.

  We’d spent so long waiting for people to leave us. Now it was time to wait patiently for this new beating heart to join our family and consume our every waking thought.

  Deeks had cried—Slater, too. Jedd hugged the shit out of me in a manner unlike the Jedd of old. The rest of the men, including Tate and Rubin, had vowed with their every breath to protect the baby with all that they had.

  And before we knew it, we’d made it through one of the hardest winters of our lives, pushed through spring, celebrated Ayda’s 26th birthday, my 30th, breathed new life into the club, and we were embracing the sweltering heat of our Texan summer.

  The summer.

  The heat

  I spent every morning sitting on the porch, awake before everyone else, letting the sun and warmth of being alive wash over my face like an old man contemplating his remaining days, rather than a thirty-year-old with his whole life ahead of him.

  Reflection had become a new form of meditation for this rugged, tattooed biker. A reformed bad boy who wanted to watch the sun rise and set every day—to feel the gift of air entering his lungs and enjoy the way his heart beat to a different tune depending who was around him.

  It was 6:10 a.m. one Thursday morning in the height of Summer, and I was out there on the porch again, soaking up the ridiculous heat of the early hours. You could see the warmth bouncing off the yard in waves already, and I glanced to the edge of the patch of land to the left of The Hut, excited about my plans to build a pool around the back there for the kid to enjoy summer days in when it was old enough. Images of a baby boy running around with Ayda warning him to be careful floated through my mind. Images of a baby girl crying out for her daddy to throw her in the pool made my smile grow as I let my imagination run wild.