by K. Ryan
Then she turned her head, her face breaking out into a wide and vivid smile, and my chest heaved as heat stung my eyes.
"Iz?" I croaked out.
My feet finally jerked out of their coma and as I stalked towards her, all my emotions slammed through me, flipping me over, and practically knocking me right on my ass and I just had to get to her before my lungs gave out on me altogether.
Isabelle dropped her bags on the pavement and flew into my waiting arms. I lifted her up, burying my nose in her hair. It was crazy—I hadn't even been away from her for a full day and yet, it felt like I was seeing her now for the first time in weeks. Her absence had cast a dark shadow over my life and now that she was here, all the light was back again.
When I set her back down, both my hands closed around her face and I pressed a hard kiss into her lips. "Babe, what...?"
"I couldn't do it, Caleb," she whispered, her ocean-blue eyes glittering with unshed tears.
"What?" I murmured hoarsely as I ran a thumb over her cheek.
"I just couldn't," she reassured me with a shrug. "It doesn't mean anything without you. I can't be really be there if you're here."
"But, how...?"
She smiled up at me. "I took a bus. It wasn't a big deal."
I exhaled with a laugh and pulled her into me again. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I knew you'd just try to talk me out of it."
I blinked again, unable to completely accept this was real. "Where's the rest of your stuff?"
She just shrugged with a small smile. "I'm Fed-Exing it all back here. Gwen was surprisingly helpful after she got over the initial shock of gaining and losing a new roommate all in the same day."
Everything was happening so fast and it took me a moment to really grasp the meaning of those words. "But what about school, Iz?"
She grinned broadly and stood up on her toes to kiss me lightly on the lips. "I'm still going. I would've been back earlier, but I had some business to take care of first."
"I just...I just can't believe you're really here. You didn't have to do this, Iz."
"Yes, I did."
I blew out a deep breath and kissed her forehead, wrapping my arms around her more tightly. "Come on, babe, let's get inside and then, you're gonna tell me what's goin' on, right?"
She just laughed and swooped down to pick up one of her bags while I grabbed the other ones. Once we were standing back inside my dorm, I dropped her duffel bags on the floor and pulled her back into my arms. My senses were aware of what was happening, that she was really here in this room again and that she was here to stay, but my brain still hadn't caught up yet.
"I'm going to commute to UNC," she told me matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument. "I called the registrar after you left yesterday and I talked to the head of my program's department and told him what was going on. It took a while and some serious begging and pleading, but I'm enrolled at the UNC School of the Arts in Winston-Salem now. I think I might just have to miss the first week of classes until I get my schedule straightened out, but this is what I'm gonna do."
I couldn't quite compute everything she was trying to tell me. There were too many conflicting thoughts flying around in my brain. I was so happy I couldn't see straight, but did she do it because she was worried the distance would break us up? I wasn't sure if I'd be able to live with myself if she lost out on this opportunity because she'd settled for me instead.
"Babe, why?" I murmured hoarsely. "What about VCU? What about your career? You can't give that up for me, Iz. It's not fair to you."
"I'm not giving anything up, Caleb. I already told you—all that doesn't mean anything if I can't share it with you."
"But you will be sharing it with me," I closed my hands around her face as I spoke, still not completely allowing myself to believe that what I was hearing was true. I couldn't let myself go there, not yet. "I'm right here, babe. I'm not going anywhere and the distance doesn't matter."
"It won't be the same if we're living five hours away from each other during the week and only see each other on the weekends. I can't do that and I don't wanna live like that either."
"Babe," I was practically pleading with her now, desperate to understand what this was really about. "Don't do this because of me."
Her lips curved into a soft smile and she ran a hand over my cheek. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me. Just because VCU is one of the best art schools in the country doesn't mean it's the best school for me. UNC has almost the exact same program. In fact, it might even be a little better for me because I get more of a say in classes and projects than I would at VCU. And I'd never really be happy there without you, Caleb."
"But—"
"There's nothing wrong with commuting," her voice grew firmer with each syllable and any hope I had at arguing dwindled with each word. "I already had the dorm life experience and to be completely honest with you, it wasn't that great the first time around so I'm sure I'm not missing anything this time around. I figured I'll move out of my dad's house, get my own apartment...I can't keep letting other people dictate my life anymore. I need to start living my life the way I want to and start doing what's going to make me happy."
We were sitting on my bed now and she crawled over to me until she was straddling my lap, wrapping both arms around my neck.
"Baby," she started again softly and I felt my chest heaving as everything she was telling me finally started to sink in. "I know you just want the best for me and I love you for that. But don't you think I should be the one who gets to decide what's really the right thing for me?"
Damn, she was right. She was so right. I'd taken the choice away from her without even realizing it. I'd been so focused on doing what I thought was right for her that I'd never even asked her what she wanted to do. All I'd heard about VCU was that it was the best and that was what I wanted for her. I hadn't stopped to think about what she really wanted for herself.
"I need to sketch and I need to work to be happy."
I nodded slowly, my chest still heaving violently.
"And I need you to be happy too, Caleb. I can't live any other way. Now that I've had you in my life, I need you to always be there."
My arms squeezed around her and I knew that this was it. She was it.
I hadn't wanted to get my hopes up that I could have what Dom and Lex had. That I could have a wife I would die to protect and a family I would sacrifice everything for and love until the day I died. But it was all here in my arms...all my wildest, out-of-reach dreams coming true. Maybe it was time to stop being so chicken-shit and start really living my life too.
"Babe," I whispered hoarsely. "You know I would never ask you to do any of this, right? I would never want you to feel that you had to."
Her hands slid lazily up my shirt until it was skimming over my head and a slow smile tugged across my face.
"I never had to do anything, baby," Isabelle told me. "This is what I want. You're what I want. And you're just gonna have to deal with it because you're it for me, Caleb. You can't get rid of me now."
I leaned forward until my face was buried into her soft, sweet neck. "I think I should be sayin' that to you, babe...I love you."
"I love you, too," she smiled against my lips.
There was no more argument left in me and as everything she'd laid out settled in my head, it was difficult to argue with her logic. If I was what she wanted, I wasn't going to be stupid enough to push her away. Not now and not ever. This girl—this woman—was my entire world and shit just didn't work without her in it.
"I want you to get my ink," I told her, my fingers slipping underneath her tank top and resting right at the base of her lower back. There was no point in waiting anymore. She was here, she was mine, and I needed everyone else to know it too.
Her beautiful lips spread apart into an even more beautiful smile. "Okay. You're gonna get one too, right?"
"Yeah," I nodded and lifted her fingertips until they brushed the skin right
over my heart. "I was thinkin' I'd get your name right here. It's already yours. Might as well have your name on it."
And someday, I would make this woman my wife and she would be the mother of my children. She would have her art and her passion and I would support her every step of the way. The VP patch would be mine before long and I knew I had an old lady who could stand by my side and roll with whatever my life might throw our way.
We were strong. We were in love and we had our whole lives and the whole world ahead of us. With that settled, my lips found hers again as I slipped her tank top over her head to officially welcome my old lady back home.
EPILOGUE
The Claremont PD precinct bustled from the new arrivals. Nobody had to say out loud what the transplants were here for because the answer was as obvious as it was simple: the Iron Horsemen MC. So far, the local PD had been very accommodating to their needs and had pretty much adhered to anything either of them asked for from coffee to a war room to make camp.
And now, what they really needed was some space and some time to debrief.
Special Agent Matthew Jordan sipped his coffee, rocking back on his heels as he studied the pictures meticulously arranged before him. While it had taken him several hours to piece all the connective dots together, he felt confident in his understanding of the hierarchy within the Iron Horsemen motorcycle gang.
Experience had taught him never to judge a book by its cover and so, there was no use in sugarcoating what the Horsemen really were. They were by no estimation simply motorcycle enthusiasts. They were a street gang. Violent, ruthless, and deadly. And it was time they were finally taken down.
His partner sighed next to him and tilted her head to the side in deep thought.
"What are you thinking, Summers?"
Special Agent Grace Summers crinkled her forehead as she took a step closer to the black and white surveillance photo of Skyler Sawyer. "I wonder how much she knows."
"What do you mean?"
"She's not just an old lady, you know. She's the old lady. Been married to the MC's first president. She's banging the current one. Her son's next in line for president. That's gotta be a goldmine, you know? Can you imagine getting to pick her brain and poke around at everything that's inside? I think it would be fascinating."
"And probably incredibly incriminating," Jordan finished for her with a nod.
Summers sighed again and ran a hand through her shoulder-length, auburn hair. In the three years they'd been partners, he'd never known her to be unnecessarily cold-hearted or mean-spirited about their investigations. Instead, she was a brilliant interrogator and one of the sharpest detectives he'd ever been in contact with. Working with her was a pleasure, especially when she was struck with an idea like this.
He'd only been with the ATF for four years and even though that was an incredible accomplishment at 29, he still felt like he hadn't quite proven himself to his colleagues. At times, he wondered if Summers even completely trusted him, but he had to believe that, given the opportunity, she would always have his back. This take-down would lift both of them to the next level and so, neither of them could even think about resting until every single member of the Horsemen were behind bars.
No holds barred. Any means necessary.
With that thought, his eyes drifted over to the other well-known old ladies within the culture of the Horsemen and an idea struck him.
"Skyler Sawyer would never talk. It wouldn't matter what we did or what we threatened her with. She'd never rat."
Summers nodded without tearing her eyes away from the wall covered in their notes and surveillance photos. With a gleam in her eyes that he knew well, she gestured with her head towards the pictures to their right. "What about new generation old ladies? Think they'd crack?"
"Okay. So, there's Lexie Fletcher."
"Who's got a newborn at home now," Summers reminded him quickly.
"Right and then who are we really left with? Becca Ullmer and Isabelle Martin. Those are the only three I think anyone in the club could actually count as an old lady, next to Skyler Sawyer."
Summers cocked her head to the side as she studied their photos, each lined up with their respective 'old man'. "I wonder how much they know?"
"And how much would it take?"
"Well," Summers murmured thoughtfully as she moved around the photos, pacing like a predator stalking its prey. "Lexie Fletcher's a newlywed and a first-time mother. Lots of new responsibility. Lots of stress. Lots of bills. The last thing she needs right now is her husband in federal prison."
"And we know Becca Ullmer's been nursing her coke habit down at The Sundown Saloon," Jordan added, nodding towards a surveillance picture of Becca Ullmer leaving the bar. "I can't imagine Harris would appreciate finding out his woman is a closet junkie. At the very least, she seems to be doing a pretty good job of hiding it, but secrets don't stay hidden for long. Especially not if it's spreading over to the clubhouse too."
Summers grinned back at him and then moved on to the next photo. "And then we've got Isabelle Martin. She just enrolled at the UNC School of the Arts in Winston-Salem. What's she majoring in again?"
He rummaged around on the table behind them, quickly flipping through Caleb Sawyer's file for the information. "Majoring in Fine Arts for Drawing and Painting."
"An artist," Summers huffed. "These people and everyone around them baffle me sometimes."
As Jordan glanced back at the grainy black and white surveillance photo of Isabelle Martin, which had been taken just a few weeks ago as she'd left Sawyer Auto Repair's parking lot after spending the night at the clubhouse, he felt something stirring in his stomach. She was achingly beautiful. Long, athletic legs. Crystal clear blue eyes. Smooth, curly blonde hair. And a smile that could smash your insides into pieces.
"Well," Summers went on, unaware that he'd just drifted off into dreamland again. "She's got a dad in rehab and a potential career as an artist."
After a short pause, probably for effect, she charged ahead.
"You know, when you think about it, you take any man, doesn't matter who he is, and you'll find that his greatest weakness is his woman. Just look at history: Adam and Eve. Samson and Delilah. Caesar and Cleopatra. Antony and Cleopatra. Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. All brought to their knees because of a woman. Some of them literally. Anyways, what I'm saying is why not use the Horsemen's women? Maybe we have to tail them for longer to really get somewhere, but with gangs like this, the insiders have the most information out of anyone not officially a member and usually, that's almost always the women."
"The women relieve their stress and the men tell them all their dirty secrets. That's usually the way it works, isn't it?"
"As misogynistic as it is, yes, that's usually how it works," Summers nodded tightly. "So we turn their culture against them. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time an agent's done this, but the Horsemen are the perfect target. Skyler Sawyer wouldn't talk even if we tortured her within an inch of her life. But the younger women, this new generation, are a different story. They haven't been around quite as long to have the kind of built-in, take-it-until-I-die kind of loyalty that Skyler has."
"Lexie and Dominic Fletcher have been together since they were in high school," Jordan pointed out.
"Sure," Summers brushed that aside with a shrug. "But that doesn't mean she wouldn't crack, especially not with everything else going on too. And then you've got Becca Ullmer and Isabelle Martin, still pretty fresh to the lifestyle, but their men seem to be pretty serious about them, Sawyer especially. Didn't they all go to high school together?" Summers wondered out loud. "And Becca and Isabelle are just recent additions to the family, so to speak?"
Jordan flipped through some more pages in their files just to make sure. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
"I say it's an angle to play," she concluded. "We've got the time. And if we play this right and play them all off each other right, we could have the whole club crumbled in less than a year. Toppled by their
own barbaric hierarchy."
Jordan snorted out a laugh and his eyes inadvertently found their way back to Sawyer's file, particularly the information about his old lady, Isabelle Martin. Sawyer was a real piece of work with multiple arrests at the ripe old age of 21. Nothing had been serious enough to give him any significant amount of time—disorderly conduct, petty theft, and assault, but still—and as Jordan took in a surveillance photo of Sawyer with his arms wrapped around Isabelle Martin, his desire to see this particular Horsemen patch behind bars for the rest of his life only heightened.
She was just so beautiful. And from the digital portfolio he'd lifted from her art school applications, an extremely talented artist. This was a person who had something truly worthwhile to offer the world. This was a person who was better than the lowlifes she surrounded herself with. Even her best friend was a junkie and he was positive she had no idea because she just didn't seem like the type of person to ever suspect that about someone.
She didn't deserve this life. She didn't deserve the constant danger that being involved with Sawyer would inevitably put her in. She deserved the best—happiness, safety, security, and all the things a life with Sawyer would never give her, if he kept her around long enough to actually get that far.
And as his eyes roamed over the picture in his hands, he wondered what someone as beautiful, as talented, and as decent as Isabelle Martin was doing with a criminal like Caleb Sawyer.
Don't miss the rest of Caleb and Isabelle's story...
Carry You With Me (Book #2)—September 2015
and
Carry You Home (Book #3)—December 2015
Check out the bonus materials section on my website for two short prequels about Caleb and Isabelle in high school.
About the Author
