Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2)

by K. Ryan

  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.

  . . .

  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.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Outlaw Justice

  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 o
ne 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.

  "Dom," I called over my shoulder as I stalked down the hallway. "If it was your house and your old lady, you'd feel a little differently, don't you think?"

  I nodded to myself when I heard Dom's sigh of surrender and then there was some shuffling behind me as Dom and Casey followed me out of the clubhouse without so much as a protest from anyone else watching this scene play out. I didn't stop until I was standing in front of my bike again to turn to Dom and Casey to bark out some orders. This was my business and if either of them didn't like it, they could get on their bikes and head back inside.

  Hell if I cared right now. That wasn't going to change shit because I was going with or without them.

  "Get Ortega on the phone," I instructed pointedly and clenched my fists in anticipation. "Let's see if he knows where his old lap dog has been lately."

  . . .

  My eyes just about glazed over as I rose my fist to knock on the door. Once Ortega was brought up to speed about what his former associate was up to, he rattled off all the places Padilla was known to frequent without hesitation. As luck would have it, we'd found him at the first place we tried—his house. Padilla was either incredibly stupid or incredibly confident I wouldn't retaliate. Either way, he was going to be feeling every single inch of what he'd destroyed in my house and every second of fear he'd inflicted on Isabelle.

  Padilla probably thought all our shit was settled and over now.

  Asshole had another thing coming.

  I pounded fiercely on the front door, shrugging off the way Dom and Casey shifted anxiously behind me. They didn't want to be here right now and I didn't really give a shit. The club didn't have anything to do with this—this had everything to do with all the times me and Padilla had stared each other down, each time I had worked overtime to report back to Ortega all the ways Padilla was screwing up, each time Padilla came up empty and each time I reveled in every wrong move he made...it had all come down to this.

  A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal Padilla, dressed in a dirty wife-beater and a half-empty beer in one hand. The smug expression drained from his face and then he scrambled to shut the door in my face. I slammed my foot right into the middle of it, knocking Padilla back into his living room, and charged straight ahead.

  "Hey, man, listen," Padilla held up his hands in clear desperation. "Nobody got hurt. No big deal, man. We're square now."

  I stepped inside the living room, with Dom and Casey hot on my heels, and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You think we're square? Man, you're even stupider than I thought."

  I moved forward until I was toe to toe with the man I was going to take great pleasure in beating to a bloody pulp and my lips curled back into a snarl. "Your first mistake, asshole, was fucking with my old lady and my house. And the second, dumbshit, was sticking around long enough so I would know it was you. You think I'm just gonna stand here and let you shit all over what's mine?"

  "You cost me a shit-ton of money," Padilla interjected hastily. "I was gonna make over 100 Gs from that deal and you blew it."

  "100 Gs, huh?" I nodded to him and my shoulders shook with laughter. "Bullshit. Everyone knows you're not smart enough to pull somethin' like that off."

  Rage flared up in Padilla's eyes and just as he was gearing up to swing, Casey appeared at his side and twisted his arm back before he could move an inch.

  "Watch yourself, asshole," Casey leaned into Padilla menacingly. "You should know better than to go after a woman. You deserve everything you're about to get handed."

  "I didn't hurt her!" Padilla hollered back in his face. "I didn't even touch her!"

  As if on cue, a short, scantily-clad Mexican woman, the same one I recognized from the patch-over party, appeared in the hallway. "Diego, what's goin'—"

  She stopped short as soon as she took in the three Horsemen cuts standing in her living room.

  "Get back in the bedroom, Luz!" Padilla yelled at her. "Turn around and walk away!"

  Luz's face contorted, but she stood her ground, refusing to leave her man behind. I supposed I could understand that kind of loyalty and chose to ignore her instead.

  "So," I started again, leaning down to get in his face. "Let's try this again. What were you gonna do if my pregnant old
lady hadn't nailed you with pepper spray, huh? You know, the one you called a fucking bitch?"

  Padilla's eyes flooded with sheer panic and he didn't need to tell me what we both already knew: if just a few seconds had happened differently, Padilla wouldn't have hesitated to tear her to pieces too. My lips curled into a menacing snarl and right about now, I was surprised I was even seeing clear objects in the room I was so blinded by this overwhelming rage.

  "I didn't know she was pregnant! I swear I didn't!" Padilla pleaded hoarsely, but it fell on deaf ears.

  "You know," I started darkly and ignored his cries. "You were right before. About us gettin' square. We should be square. Then this shit between us can be finished once and for all."

  I pulled my own Glock out of the holster underneath my cut and aimed it directly at Luz's head. I wasn't normally prone to such spiteful violence, but now that the wrath-fueled floodgates were open, there was no stopping the rush that followed.

  "How do you like it, huh?" I snarled back at Padilla, still holding my Glock trained on his woman. "How do you like someone comin' up into your space and scarin' the shit out of your woman? Doesn't feel so good, does it?"

  "Caleb..." Dom's voice called out to me to bring me back from the brink. I didn't miss the warning in his tone, but right about now, that was the least of my concerns.

  "I got it, Dom. Just keeping this shithead in his place," I shot back tightly, keeping my focus trained on the man shaking with anger in front of me.

  "Now," I turned back to Padilla. "We're almost there. Just about square."

  I tucked my Glock back in its holster and then swung my fist until it connected right in Padilla's jaw. With my fury now completely unleashed, I kept swinging and kicking, oblivious to the shouting around me, until my knuckles were torn and bruised and covered in Padilla's blood and until Casey finally dragged me away.

  My chest heaved violently as I watched Padilla crawl around the bloodied floor and spit a tooth out two feet away from my shoes.