I was standing on the top step of the porch to The Hut and watching Sutton drive my girl away. It was a clear-skied day in Babylon with bright blue above and a hint of yellow streaking through from the right, harsh enough to make me crease my eyes together as I watched the two of them turn left out of the gates.

Folding my arms across my chest, I kept my eyes on their car until long after they’d gone out of sight. If Ayda thought I hadn’t noticed her recent shift in behavior, she was wrong. Dead wrong.

Since returning from that fateful night at the warehouse, all of us had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions. There were seven stages to grief, apparently. No one told you how many fucking stages there were to go through after being chained up in a warehouse, close to death, while also being forced to watch your enemy touch your woman and hurt her in ways that had the ability to turn everything cold, even on a warm day like today.

Whenever she went to work, I fought against every natural instinct in my body to follow her, drag her ass back to The Hut, tie her down and keep her in front of me—always in front of me—where I knew she was safe, protected, and alive. Her first few weeks back at Rusty’s had seen me sitting in that shitty diner for hours on end, sipping coffee and eyeing her from the far corner of the room. The Hounds were now a regular sight in the town of Babylon, no longer the infamous, almost mythical creatures who lived on the outskirts of society. With Sutton, the chief of police under our protection, it seemed the town had exhaled a collective sigh as they’d realized we weren’t quite as bad as they’d imagined.

I wasn’t going to tell them we were worse.

And even worse than us would probably descend on Babylon at some point in our futures. The only guarantee with MC retaliation was that they never played to a certain set of rules. There was no timeline. No dates or predictions to be made.

But it would happen. Whether it was The Navs or The Emps from other charters who sought us out, our futures were always going to be based on a shaky foundation of when, not if.

It had been hard for me to leave Ayda when she started work again, but eventually, and after much, much, so much fucking talking and persuasion from her about how safe she was, I’d agreed to loosen the leash a little and let her have some semblance of normality back. After everything she’d suffered because of me, I had no right to ask her to become a prisoner in her own home. Even if that thought appealed to me more than I could ever explain to her or the men in the club.

My eyes were still trained on the road when Harry’s cough let me know of his arrival beside me.

He didn’t speak as he copied my pose—me standing there in my loose sweatpants and a white T-shirt, Harry in his long-sleeved Hounds hoodie and cut. I liked to feel the sun on my arms more than ever. Harry seemed to be getting colder and colder the older he became.

“She’s up to something,” I eventually said, still looking out through the gates as though she and Sutton were going to ride back through them any minute.

“You think she’s fucking Sutton?” Harry croaked, smacking his fist on his chest as his laughter tried to break free.

“I think he’s already been too close to death to find himself there again.”

“True. The chief just isn’t that brave.”

“He was brave when it mattered, and that proved he had heart,” I said through a sigh, remembering the gun that had been aimed at my head and was about to kill me before Sutton took care of the enemy for me, switching his allegiance and siding with right instead of wrong at the very last second. “Never underestimate a man who has heart, Harry.”

I could sense his grin. “Sound advice.”

“Someone important once gave it to me.”

“I knew you loved me, kid.”

“Always, brother.”

I tilted my head in his direction, smirking as I made eye contact. Harry suddenly looked fucking old for his age. I wasn’t sure if it was the smokes, club life, the stress I’d put him under the last ten years, or the fact that he just wasn’t aging all too well, but his skin was gray, and he’d lost that spark in his eyes.

“How’s the chest?” I asked him, trying not to rattle that particular snake too much. You only had to patronize Harry once and he wouldn’t speak to you for the rest of the day.

“Fine.”

“Liar.”

“Doc isn’t concerned.”

“You know what you need to do.”

He nodded and stared off into the distance, shoving one hand in his pants pocket before he pulled out a packet of smokes, took one out and hung it on the end of his mouth.

“And you call me a child?” I laughed without humor.

Harry shrugged and rolled his shoulders in his cut, lighting his cigarette and taking a slow, long drag of it before he blew all the air out in a cloud in front of him. “Doc taking away the one thing I enjoy from my life would be like Sutton taking Ayda to another state entirely and putting her in hiding, just to save her from you.”

My head snapped in the direction of the road again, the panic rising in me at the very thought.

“Not so fun, right?” Harry wheezed through puffs of smoke.

“No,” I answered quietly, my jaw setting tight as I worked the muscles there.

“I’d rather die tomorrow than quit. That’s my decision. She’d rather live this life and die bleeding out next to you in some backstreet warehouse. That’s her decision.”

I remained silent, staring out through the gates as the rays of sun beat down on my bare arms and face. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so warm despite that sunshine in my life. She wasn’t going anywhere. I knew that. The entire club knew that, and so did the whores. It was hard to imagine a life before Ayda around here. She was the beating heart of The Hut, and we were all her puppets. Her feet were wedged firmly under the door.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t a safer life for her somewhere else in the world. I knew that, too. What I had to work toward was taking both of us there one day. Taking everyone I loved there. But I was one man, and I didn’t have that much of a grip on life to know for damn certain how I was going to make that happen.

Harry’s hand on my back broke me from my thoughts, and I half turned to face him.

“Tell me why you think she’s hiding something from you,” Harry said, squinting his eyes and scrunching his face up as the smoke hung limply from the edge of his lips while he spoke.

“She’s started going everywhere with Sutton for a start.”

“She’s helping a grieving man and a struggling father. Sutton won’t admit it, but he’s lonely, and Ayda is the only person besides Sloane who he can let his guard down with. He knows she won’t give him any bullshit. What’s your next thought?”

I narrowed my eyes and studied Harry’s face. “Doesn’t matter,” I pushed out, straightening my back and raising my chin.

“Sure it doesn’t.” He smirked.

“I’ve gotta go. The pawnshop needs opening, and then I’ve got a meeting with some chick over on the other side of Babylon at three.”

“What kind of meeting?”

“The kind you or any of the other men aren’t invited to.”

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing his cigarette from his mouth as his laughter caused him to have another brutal and barking coughing fit.

“Jesus, Harry.” I frowned, slapping his back hard and watching as he bent over, coughing up a ball of phlegm. “This is getting worse.”

“Not really,” he croaked. “It’s nothing more than the cold air on my chest. I’ll be fine once I’m inside.”

“Then get inside already.”

He gave me a salute and turned to leave, while I just remained there, wondering what the hell was going on with the man in front of me, and already missing the woman who was traveling down a road somewhere behind.

Going about my morning, I got lost in the usual routine. I checked my phone every ten minutes to see if she’d called—the phone I’d quickly become an expert in using once I realized how many scars the little fucker could have saved Ayda and me if I’d taken it out with us that night. I checked the books of all the businesses, making sure to be as thorough as I could be when it came to the repo side of life. We were making a lot of cash on that front now, and I was determined to prove to everyone that with me at the head of the table, The Hounds could be a motorcycle club that didn’t have to survive off death and darkness alone. I sat with the guys in the bar for at least ten minutes of every day if I got the chance. I’d neglected my fellow brothers for far too long, wrapped up in my own selfish desires, woes, and fucking nightmares. Since saying goodbye to Pete under that tree and letting a lot of grief slide off me, I’d started to see things a lot clearer. I’d started to see how much of an arrogant prick I’d been before.

By the time the clock struck two, I’d waited long enough and was pushing my hoodie over my head, my cut over my shoulders, and throwing my leg over the other woman in my life: my Harley Davidson. Ayda would have to deal with me staring at her for a full hour before playtime struck.

“Fancy a riding buddy?” Slater asked as he walked over to me in the yard just as I was about to tear through the gates.

I gave him a lazy half smile and shook my head. “Not today, brother.”

“You’re not going to see Ayda again?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest and wearing a disapproving look. I knew what he said in that silence. It was what all the men were saying.

She’s safe, Tucker. Back the fuck off already.

“I have a special invitation to help her fill the condiments.”

“Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

“Don’t hate the player, Slate.”

I could barely hear him once the sound of the engine filled my ears, but that didn’t stop him from shouting out at the top of his voice in true Slater style.

“Be careful with the salt!”

There had always been a freedom to riding hard and alone through the streets of Babylon, but now that I found myself laughing and smiling through the whole experience, it somehow seemed even fucking better. A fact that I would have said was impossible just a few months before.

Coming to a stop a few streets away from Rusty’s, I decided to keep Ayda on her toes a little bit and parked my bike up in the yard of a guy I knew who owned a garage. Slipping him a few dollar bills, I shoved my keys in my cut pocket and began to walk through the streets of Babylon. Weeks ago, this very act would have attracted trouble without me even trying, but in such a short space of time, the guys and I had worked hard to show the community that we were here for them, not to fight them.

I turned a corner to see three older ladies walking toward me, two of them smiling and offering me a greeting while the one in the middle remained quiet, still a little unsure. I couldn’t blame her. Decades of bad stories were never going to be just swept away because a six-foot bearded guy with a decent smile flashed them a wink.

It was worth a try, though.

Walking past them, I shoved my hands into my pockets and strode up to Rusty’s, eventually pushing through the door to see the usual crowd behind the counter.

“Hey, Drew,” Sam greeted me, offering a smile as I nodded my head and walked on by.

“Usual?” Janette asked as I approached her, standing next to my usual booth in the corner.

“Always the same, please, darlin’.”

“Coming right up.”

I slid into place, pressing my shoulder against the window, slouching down and looking around to see where Ayda was. No doubt she would be in the back, cursing under her breath as Rusty grumbled and complained about everything everyone did wrong in this place. It was only when Janette arrived with my coffee ten minutes later that that whole theory went to shit.

“Ayda getting the workload doubled in the kitchen with Rusty today?” I asked, dragging my cup closer.

Janette frowned, but her smile never slipped. “Ayda isn’t in until two-thirty, Drew. Did she give you the wrong time?”

My scowl was immediate. “I must have heard her wrong. I thought she was in all morning.”

“No,” she said through a laugh, pulling her cloth from her shoulder and wiping the edge of the table where a drop of coffee had splashed over. “I know Rusty can be a dragon, Drew, but he isn’t a total slave driver. He wouldn’t expect her to work a double shift today.”

“My mistake,” I answered, my smile pressing flat as I gritted my teeth together and worked my jaw again.

“We all make ‘em, sugar,” she said without a care in the world before she turned on her heels and sashayed away.

The grip I had on the mug was dangerous, turning my knuckles white as I leaned forward over the table, pressed my free hand against my mouth and tried not to curse out loud.

I was just about to get up and leave when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sutton’s car driving into his usual parking space outside the diner.

With Ayda…

My Ayda…

Right. Fucking. Next to him.