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 HoundWhores 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 myselfwantingto 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 wasproud 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 felt 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 towatch 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.
We had so much to look forward to.
So much.
My daydreams were cut short when an orange Ford Gran Torino with a black stripe down the hood came crawling in front of the gates. It was a thing of beauty, and I pushed myself up in my seat, watching as it came to a stop outside our yard.
