Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2) (12 page)

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I guess, huh?"

I nodded into her hair. "Something like that, yeah."

"And if she talks to them, what happens then?"

She had to have already known the answer to that before she asked it. Maybe she just needed to hear the words. Maybe she was looking for hope where there was none.

"I don't think she'll get far enough to actually give them something, Iz. We won't let that happen. We'll be too close for her to get into a meeting with them without us getting to her first."

"And if she does get into a meeting with them?"

I sighed and ran my free hand over my face. I didn't like having to say it out loud, but she needed to hear it. "Then she'd better hope they get her into an airtight witness protection program."

She shuddered a little against my chest and I wrapped both arms around her to pull her in even tighter. We were lying here, basically discussing her best friend's imminent punishment in the middle of the night with our arms wrapped around each other and Isabelle wasn't running from me. She wasn't screaming at me either. It was almost as if she'd already known the truth and come to terms with it long before I ever got home tonight.

The weight of that settled into my chest and just about crushed me.

"I feel like she's already gone," Isabelle whispered and turned her head to bury her face into my chest. "She asked me who I would choose—you or her. The second that happened I just knew it was already over. All those years, everything we've been through together, it's just all gone now and I don't really understand why."

"If the ATF ever got wind of her problem, they'd exploit that every chance they got. They'd hold a maximum prison sentence for possession over her head just to get her to crack. She knows that probably more than anybody."

She turned her face again and then I felt the wetness spreading onto my skin, coating and saturating the space underneath her cheek with her tears. All I could do was tug her across my chest and hold her. There was nothing more to say. Nothing more that could be done.

Becca's days were numbered. Now it was just a matter of when and how.

Nobody put the club at risk and was shown mercy.

Nobody put my family at risk and lived to tell about it.

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Isabelle

The next morning, as I stretched and yawned with the sun, everything felt different. Better. It was like the darkness that had shrouded the day before had blossomed into a beautiful morning. All of yesterday's ugliness was gone now. My not-so-fun encounter at the precinct. Becca. God, Becca.

Today was going to be a good day. I could feel it. Besides, how could today possibly be any worse than yesterday?

Caleb was still dozing next to me and sleepily slung an arm around my waist to tug me back under his arm.

I really didn't want to leave, but the sooner I got to the studio and took care of business, the sooner I could get back to Caleb. So, I made a quick dash into our second bedroom, which now doubled as my home studio, grabbed my current project off the easel, then I grabbed a banana and a granola bar for the road and was out the door.

A little over six hours later, I pulled Caleb's truck into our driveway and my heart tugged in my chest at the sight of all that empty concrete. No Harley in sight.

Separation anxiety. That's what this was.

Separation anxiety? More like codependency. You're a complete loser. And a goner. Totally a goner.

Just as I absentmindedly put my key in the front door, I froze. That little bit of force pushed the whole door open and a cold chill ran down my spine. Caleb always tripled-checked all the locks on our doors before he left the house. I was already backing up, my project dropping to the ground as terror spiked through me and my fingers flying into my purse for something I could use to defend myself, when a figure hovered in the doorway and stilled.

Everything seemed to happen in a blur.

I saw a black leather cut, dark eyes, dark hair, and when his face finally came into clearer view, it only took me a second to place where I'd seen him before.

The patch-over party.

Diego Padilla.

We both moved at the same time. He jerked forward, flinging the door open at the exact moment I found my can of pepper spray. He blinked, momentarily stunned into immobility by what was in my hand and that gave me the opening I needed to flick the safety guard and cover the bastard head to shoulders in that white, foamy spray.

"Ah!" he screamed in pain, both hands snapping up to his face, scrubbing and pawing at his eyes. "Fucking bitch!"

Diego stumbled around the doorway with one hand covering his face and the other groping aimlessly for anything that could help him, but I was already backpedalling, nearly tripping over the front step and hightailing it back the truck as fast as my feet could carry me.

When I was safely locked back inside Caleb's truck, my eyes shot to the front door and found Diego slouched down in the doorway, still scrubbing furiously at his eyes and screaming obscenities my way. Pure adrenaline was the only thing keeping me moving right now and I fumbled to back out of the driveway, screeching the tires and everything.

My chest was still heaving. My lungs felt like they were about to collapse I was coughing so violently, but the house was in my rearview mirror right now and that was what really mattered.

I hated that the sight of my house in my rearview mirror made me feel relieved.

I hated that I knew I was going to be afraid to be in my own home now.

I hated what I knew Caleb was going to have to do now.

I hated this fear. I hated this stress. And, somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew I hated this life.

There was just nothing I could do about it.

Caleb

I sped through the parking lot, oblivious to any passers-by, pedestrians, or other vehicles in my way. As I skidded my bike right next to where my truck was parked, my heart skidded to a halt right along with it. Immediately, I was searching for one thing and one thing only.

She wasn't there. Not in the truck. Not in the parking lot.

That was all I needed to see before I sprinted through the clubhouse's main doors, barreling my way inside, and barely cognizant of anything less than two feet in front of me. Dom was in front of me now and pointing me toward the hallway. I knew what that meant. I just had to get there first. My mom paced in front of the bathroom and her eyes widened when she saw me, reaching for me without moving from her spot at the door.

"She won't let me in, Caleb," my mom told me in a hushed whisper, but it was the fear in her dark eyes that scared me the most. "Told us what happened and then she locked herself in your bathroom. She won't come out."

I needed a second to calm myself down before I went in there and I also needed as much information as my mom could give me because I didn't want Isabelle to have to repeat it.

"Where were you, Caleb?" my mom was saying now and I didn't appreciate the accusation in her tone. "Why didn't you pick up the damned phone?"

I'd been at the gas station picking up that goddamn Nicotine gum and those patches, but that wasn't important now, and I just waved a hand dismissively. "It was Padilla?"

My mom nodded tightly. "She said she recognized him from the patch-over party."

"He didn't touch her?"

"If he did, she isn't saying. Maybe she'll tell you more, but she said she got him good with pepper spray, so it sounds like he didn't chase after her."

"Good," I huffed darkly. "I hope she sprayed the whole damn can in his face. Anyone been to the house yet?"

"They're waiting for you."

With a quick nod in her direction, I knocked on the door.

"Iz," I called gently. "It's me. Open the—"

The door flew open, cutting me off mid-sentence, and my arms were around her before either of us could say anything else. Jesus, she was shaking like a leaf and when I lifted up her chin to get a better look at her, I wanted to punch right through the mirror above the sink. Isabelle bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from crying and her lip quivered. Her eyes were wide and haunted; her face was pale and blotchy at the same time, like the adrenaline coursing through her wasn't quite sure how to manifest itself.

"Iz," I whispered hoarsely as both hands closed around her face and I backed her into the bathroom to lift her up onto the sink. "I got you, okay?"

Isabelle nodded tightly into my hands and bit her lip again as her eyes welled up. "I had a panic attack. I couldn't breathe and my chest still feels really tight. I still feel like I can't breathe."

Her breath was coming in stunted and staggered, like her lungs were working overtime to take in air, but her body just wasn't having it right now and my arms tightened around her.

"Just breathe slow," I told her. "In and out. Focus on that."

She nodded tightly and leaned into my chest. After a few silent moments, all the tension in her body seemed to gradually slip away and her chest was rising and falling a little more normally now.

"I was so scared," she whispered into my chest. "I thought he was gonna kill me."

It was just one thing after another. It was just like Dom had said the night before: everything was snowballing. Left, right, and around every goddamn corner. I was done letting my life shit all over her, stress her out, and scare the living hell out of her.

"Hey," I murmured to her, running my thumb over her cheek to reassure her. "You're tough as shit, Iz. You got away. You kept yourself and our kid safe. That's all that matters. I'll take care of everything else."

She nodded into my hands and I wiped away a stray tear with my thumb.

"Did he do anything, Iz? Did he grab you? Say anything to you?"

Isabelle swallowed tightly with an almost imperceptible nod and laughed a little. "He called me a fucking bitch. That was about as far as he got."

My jaw clenched and I had to bite back the rage threatening to boil over. It all played out in my mind and that alone was enough to seal that asshole's fate. It didn't even matter that Padilla hadn't touched her. He'd violated our home. He'd forced Isabelle to have to protect herself. He'd scared her so badly she'd had a panic attack in the bathroom of my dorm. He'd sworn at her. As far as I was concerned, he'd better hope I never found him.

"Did he have a gun, Iz? A knife? Anything?"

She just shook her head and I leaned forward to kiss her forehead. I'd heard everything I needed to know.

"Stay here with my mom," I told her quietly. "I'm gonna go take care of this."

She nodded again and smiled weakly at my mom from over my shoulder, who had dutifully maintained her post outside the bathroom. My mom looked halfway between relieved and irate, but I guess I couldn't really blame her.

"How long are you gonna be gone?" she asked and I tucked some blonde hair behind her ear.

"I don't know, babe," I murmured back. "Just stay here. Get some rest and I'll get back to you as soon as I can, okay?"

She nodded slowly. "Okay. Please be safe."

"I always am," I grinned back at her and leaned forward to press a quick on her lips. "See ya later, Iz."

As I passed through my dorm, I kissed my mom quickly on the forehead to both thank her and reassure her before motioning with my head to Dom and Casey, who were already waiting for me outside the door.

"Heading to your house?" Dom asked, clearly ready to follow into step behind me.

Somehow in the midst of this white-hot rage, I managed to shake my head. "I'll worry about the house later. I need to have a word with Padilla first."

Dom's eyes went wide with alarm and he immediately held up his hands. "Caleb, you gotta bring this to the table. You can't go flyin' off the handle here—you're just gonna make this shit worse."

"This isn't club business," I spat. "I don't have to bring
shit
to the table because this is about me and him."

I moved to start down the hallway, but Dom stepped directly in my path and held up his hands to stop me.
 

"Slow down, Caleb. Think this through. You go on a manhunt for Padilla by yourself with a vendetta and that could go south real fast," Dom told me in a calm and even voice I couldn't have faked if I tried.

"Yeah, well, I'm not going by myself," I cocked an eyebrow at him. "'Cuz you two are comin' with me."

Dom exhaled roughly and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I think you might end up regretting this, you know."

I just shrugged and pushed past them both to hike through the debris. While reason ebbed at my conscience, the only thing I could focus on for longer than a second was putting my fist right through that asshole's jaw and shattering it all over the floor. Never in my entire life had I felt this bloodthirsty, this violent, this driven by blind rage. I didn't care. I didn't care if the club came down on me for going after Padilla without permission. As far as I was concerned, permission was the last thing I needed right now.