My silence was my answer. Eric could take it however he wanted.
“You’re not, Drew. Ayda wouldn’t allow it.”
I scowled harder. “I love her, but I’m not pussy-whipped, Eric.”
His sardonic laugh was enough to make me curl my hands tighter together.
“Fine,” I all but growled. “Guilty as charged. Helen lives. But I’m not letting her go yet. Not until we know for damn certain she can get the hell out of town. I’ve spoken to Ayda. She wants to help take care of her. If it means her spending more time in the safe house out of the way,actuallysafe, then I’m all for it.”
“I hear ya.”
“That all?”
Eric Tucker had a lot more to say and a lot more to ask, but his signature nod arrived right on cue, and that meant our meeting was done.
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a woman I need to speak to about living the rest of her life with and a fucking wedding to sort that keeps getting put off because assholes like you keep fucking with my free time.”
“Drew?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, readying myself for another lecture.
“You’re doing good… even when you think you’re not. If you’re ever in doubt, just remember who you are and how many men live for your leadership.”
I blinked several times, trying hard not to show anyemotion on my face as I stared at the man who’d created me like he was a stranger I somehow knew. He was a walking contradiction, and I had no idea why I was drawn to him when I wanted to kill the fucker some days.
“Right,” I croaked, quickly clearing my throat, pushing my chair back and standing up in front of him. “Thanks.” My hand found the back of my neck and rubbed it awkwardly.
“Don’t worry. I’m going.” He pushed himself up out of his chair and made his way to the door.
“Stay out of trouble,” I found myself saying.
When Eric glanced over his shoulder, his familiar devil eyes narrowed, and his knowing smirk broke free. “Where’s the fun in that?”
And then he left, leaving the door open so I could watch the way my old man swaggered through the halls of The Hut like he owned it.
Like he built them.
Like they belonged to him.
Like he was fucking home again.
Chapter Nineteen
AYDA
The smell of lavender and coconut permeated the small dingy bathroom of the safe house. Helen Taylor was lying in steamy, fragrant water with a washcloth over her eyes and a coconut hair treatment in her hair. I’d made the mistake of asking what her preferred toiletries were, but it was a small kindness I knew I could offer, and watching the tension leave her shoulders made me feel better.
For a woman who was being held hostage, she was taking the whole thing a little too well. I knew very little about the woman outside of the fact she was Jon Taylor’s wife, but the tentative resolve in which she moved around and interacted with the two men who held her captive in this house threw me. I would have been out of my mind with fear and worry. Not Helen. She had a bullet wound in her arm and barely blinked at the small pink spot that was now clean and healing. Reclining like she was in the bath with the bandages removed, it was very real and startling to look at.
I was sitting on the floor by the door like her personal guard, with a gun in a holster at the small of my back as a negotiation tool. Although she hadn’t tried anything to escape… yet. The silence had been interrupted only by the water as she moved in the big tub and the constant soundtrack of the insects that inhabited the empty space around the structure. My eyes hadn’t moved from the scar on her arm, and the questions just rolled around in my head gaining traction with each rotation.
“I can feel you staring at me,” she said in amusement, her hand lazily rising to pull the soaked material from her face. Turning her head, she gazed at me, a small smile on her lips. “Just ask already.”
Even in this harsh situation, Helen looked like a damn supermodel, her perfect smile not dimmed by the fading mark on her cheek or the tiny scar that looked much older on her temple. It just enhanced her looks—made her look more real. I tried to find a question in the chaos of my mind, but the small sentence that had been on repeat slipped through my lips instead.
“You’re so calm.”
“That ain’t a question.” Her response wasn’t condescending, more filled with humor and endless patience, which only seemed to add more questions to the long list I already had.