Chapter Thirteen
DREW
Irode for hours, waiting for inspiration to hit. A sixth sense inside told me Eric wasn’t far away. I could almost feel his history on these roads, haunting my every move, steering me in ways I’d never realized he steered me before. I was my father’s son, whether I liked to admit it or not, and the two of us had an instinct that flowed through our blood—one which we could neither explain or describe. But it was there, and the power of it told me to keep riding until something stuck like gum to my wind-chapped face.
At the border of The Navarro Rifles’ turf, I skidded to a stop and stared down the road, unable to ignore the tingling of my spine.
Dad had set things in place to take the spotlight off our club—to keep The Hounds of Babylon clean in the eyes of the ATF and the law. The fires, if I’d guessed correctly, were his doing, and now he was in hiding, trying to plant evidence we’d collected, and to make sure our enemies would have motive to destroy us.
Since the demise of the Emps and Chester Cortez’s charter, The Navarro Rifles were our biggest rivals. Travis ‘Trigger’ Gatlin had placed a target on my back since his half brotherJacob Hove had strode back into Babylon. Trigger was in deep with Walsh and Jon Taylor, that much we were certain of, but the rest…
The rest we were guessing.
At least I was. Did Eric know more? Had he always known more?
My chest rose as I dragged in a hot breath and held it there for just a moment before I blew it back out.
Go to The Navs, Drew. Find out for yourself. Stick a gun in someone’s face, risk your life, cause mayhem, and worry about the consequences later. Win the war for your brothers.
That’s what the old me was screaming in my head. But his voice was now muffled behind a gag. It was a muted plea from someone I used to know. The new me had a voice much louder, clearer, and more understanding, and the way he was talking surprised every me I’d ever known.
Ride away. The battle isn’t here today. You can’t do this anymore without consequence. You cannot go to them without mercy and patience. You cannot fight this war without truth and knowledge. You cannot do this to Ayda without shame and regret. Drew, you can’t fucking do this alone without forever being different to her after its all over. Be careful which road you take. Everything has changed now.
I swallowed hard, turned, and rode away, circling in loops every direction I could go. When Mayor Walsh’s house came into view on the open road, I slowed to a crawl and looked up at the windows on the first floor, hoping to see some sign of Rubin and get a single look into his eyes the way I’d done with Jedd. All that stared back at me were reflections and disappointment. Walsh’s car wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The house looked deserted.
The bike remained strong beneath me, forever my faithful steed when my mind wasn’t sure where to guide us. Before I knew it, I was crawling down the main road of Babylon, glancing at the all too familiar stores and buildings. Thatinstinct of mine kept trying to tug at loose threads of my memory, taunting me with weak theories or possibilities I just couldn’t seem to cling to or turn into something solid.
Eric hadn’t been at Pete or Harry’s grave. There’d been no clues left behind.
He hadn’t been with Jedd. He wasn’t hiding in plain sight—or sight that I could actually fucking see. But the one thing I knew about Eric was that he was like me, and if I were him, I knew I’d be in the faces of the very people who expected me to hide.
My bike weaved in and out of the traffic. The sound of my engine and the cut on my back attracted the usual stares. My heart went wild one minute only to level out the next.
Where would I go?
Where would I go?
Where would I…
And then it hit me.
The very people he was hiding from weren’t our enemies.
He was hiding from The Hounds. From us. And if he wanted to hide in plain sight…
“You bastard,” I ground out, tensing my jaw and working the muscles there as I gripped my hands tighter around the throttle and made a sharp right out of Babylon.
“Seriously?” I stared at Eric on the top step of the wrap around porch.
He smirked confidently. There he sat at the safe house, wearing the same outfit he’d been wearing when I last saw him outside Owen’s burning home. His face looked dirty, and his hands were black, the same smears covering the gray flecks of his facial hair and actual hair.
Eric’s legs were parted, and his hands hung limply over theedges of his knees as he stared at me smugly.
“Took you fucking long enough,” he finally said in that low, calm, confident voice of his. “I thought this place would be the first place you thought to come looking.”
“I didn’t think you were that obvious.”
“No need to over complicate simple decisions, Drew.”