Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2) (6 page)

As Padilla passed us with a cigarette dangling from his lips, his smug, slightly dilated beady eyes froze on me for a little too long. Even though I didn't want to give the surprise away, I couldn't stop the knowing, evil smirk that tugged across my lips. Padilla's expression darkened with confusion, but he just pressed forward until he dropped in the chair across from Ortega.

"What's this about?" Padilla huffed as he took a long drag from his cigarette.

Ortega only hesitated to cast a sideways glance at Marcus, who nodded with approval. Padilla didn't seem to miss this nonverbal communication and his black eyes darted back and forth between them.

"You been dealin' behind my back?" Ortega bit out in Padilla's direction.

I had to fight the urge to rub my hands together in glee. This was just too damn good. Where the hell was the popcorn when you needed it?

Padilla swallowed tightly once. And then again. And then again.  At some point, he must have realized he needed to supply an answer and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I...uh..."

"That's not the answer I'm lookin' for,
ese
," Ortega shot back, his thick accent enunciating every syllable. "I'll ask you again: you been dealin' behind my back?"

Padilla squeezed his eyes shut tightly and blew out a deep breath. At least the dipshit had enough sense to know it was over.

"You don't understand. I was waitin' 'til the deal was all settled to make sure it was all good. I didn't wanna take the chance that—"

"That what?" Ortega cut in sharply. "That I'd find out what you were doin' behind my back?"

With that, Ortega lunged forward until his hands were closing around the edges of his former mentee's cut. He abruptly loosened his grip with one hand to snap his fingers above his head.  When someone handed him a knife, Ortega leaned closer with the blade extended dangerously close to Padilla's eye.

"Get the hell out of my clubhouse," the Lobos Prez exhaled venomously before slicing through the patch in the upper left-hand side of Padilla's cut. Then he flung the patch onto the floor below them and roughly shoved Padilla back against his chair.

Silence permeated the air for a few long moments, save for Padilla's heavy, stunted breathing. A beat later, he knocked his chair back as he furiously rose to his feet. With his chest heaving violently, Padilla's black eyes rounded the length of the table until they rested firmly on my victoriously smug smirk. Bottles smashed in his wake and chairs upended as Padilla lunged for me with both hands reared for attack.

My back slammed into the floor before I had time to even register what was happening as Padilla's fist smashed square in my jaw. Shattering pain splintered through the left side of my face and then instinct took over as both my hands shot up to block the next attack. With Dom yanking Padilla back, I took the opportunity to wind up and finally hit that prick right in the face.

Padilla spit out a tooth, narrowly missing the front of my shoes. "Fuck you, Sawyer."

"You think this is my fault?" I shot back hotly and jammed a pointed finger back at him, even though I was being tightly restrained by both Doc and Eli. "You did this. Not me. This is on all you,
ese
."

Padilla's eyes narrowed into menacingly dark slits. "You been waitin' for this since day one. You better watch your back if you know what's good for you,
bro
."

"Oh really?" I laughed bitterly, shoving myself free so I could inch up right in front of Padilla's face. "Bring it, asshole. You got nothin' to threaten me with and you know it."

Padilla just snarled and before he had a chance to reply, his ass was unceremoniously tossed out of the clubhouse and into the dirt where he belonged.

Good riddance
, I thought bitterly as I rubbed my throbbing jaw. At least all this shit had essentially resolved itself and now Padilla was officially out of our hair. I'd been waiting for this moment for more than six months and now that it was finally here, the vindication was sweeter than I'd anticipated.

Buzzing in my back pocket jerked me from those thoughts and my first thought was that it must be Isabelle calling to check in. But when I saw my mom's name on the caller ID, I frowned at the screen.

"Yeah, Ma?" I answered quickly, catching Dom's gaze as I spoke.  

"Where're you guys right now?" My mom's haggard voice sounded over the phone and I had to blow out a deep breath in preparation for whatever was coming next.

"Dealin' with some club shit. Why?"

"If you guys can get back anytime soon," my mom told me anxiously. "You'd better head over to the precinct because the ATF picked up Isabelle and Lex about 20 minutes ago."

For a second, I thought I hadn't heard her correctly.

All I could sputter in response was: "What?"

Dom was suddenly standing right next to me as my mom continued.

"They showed up at your house right after we got back from shopping, flashed their badges, and said they wanted to talk to the girls at the precinct. I think their angle's pretty obvious considering I'm still sitting here in your kitchen."

It wasn't a coincidence that the first time we had any sort of trouble with another club, the ATF swooped in and grabbed two old ladies, especially ones who'd never been in this position before. I knew exactly how these self-righteous pricks operated and the thought of Isabelle trapped in a room with just a bright light and an overzealous, aggressive agent was enough to make my blood boil.

Isabelle was smart, but federal agents were trained, ruthless interrogators who would play on any angle they could to get what they wanted. They could talk circles around her for hours if they really felt like it.

Jesus Christ, what else was going to happen today?

Isabelle

It wasn't until I found myself alone in a cramped interrogation room with Agent Jordan staring back at me that I started to get really pissed. I'd been sitting here for about 10 minutes already and I'd heard murmurings through the door that Becca had been brought in as well. Jesus, they were really pulling out all the stops here.

Standing just over six feet tall with cropped dark hair, Agent Jordan was clearly well-built underneath his suit jacket. Clean shaven and put together, he couldn't have been more than 30. And he might have been attractive if his dark, hooded gaze didn't feel so threatening and smug.

Under no circumstances did I want to be alone with this man any longer than necessary and I suddenly envied Lexie, who was more than likely being questioned by Agent Summers at that very moment.  At least I might have been able to go toe to toe with Agent Summers a little easier because she didn't inherently intimidate me the way the agent currently sitting across from me did.

"Isabelle..." Agent Jordan started carefully. "Is it alright if I call you Isabelle?"

I nodded slowly, hesitant to speak to him unless absolutely necessary.

"Thank you," he grinned back at me gratefully and I felt myself frowning back at him. "Please, call me Matt. Agent Jordan is way too formal, don't you think?"

When I just stared impassively in his general direction, he frowned and leaned forward on his elbows. "So, it looks like you're almost finished with your first semester at UNC in Winston-Salem. And you've got a showcase coming up too. That's quite an accomplishment. You must be really proud."

I'd had enough of this already.

"Can we just cut to the chase, huh?" I snapped back at him. "I'm not stupid and I know that since you didn't arrest me, you can't keep me here against my will. Ask your questions so I can leave, please."

I hadn't meant for my tone to betray all the swirling emotions running through me, but there was nothing I could do about it now. When Agent Jordan's lips tightened into a thin line, I wondered which part of what I'd just said had set him off more. If he'd really done his research, he would've known what I'd studied at Duke and so, my basic knowledge of the law couldn't have been a surprise. Still, the longer he stared back at me with that unfathomable expression, the more I wanted to squirm in my chair.

"Alright," Agent Jordan replied simply. "I'm sure you have a pretty good idea what I need to ask you."

"Yep," I nodded.

"You and Caleb Sawyer have been together for..." he flipped through a few pages of the file in front of him as he spoke. "About seven or eight months, right?"

He glanced up at me with inquisitive eyes while I nodded. "Something like that."

"And in that time, have you seen or heard anything related to illegal activity? Anything related to the illegal purchase and transfer of firearms?"

I frowned at the direct question. Didn't seasoned interrogators spend more time working up to those questions? I'd been expecting a little more resistance on his part, maybe even sly interrogation tactics to get me to trust him, but he hadn't wasted any time with that. What was really going on here?

"No, Agent Jordan, I haven't."

His eyes darkened slightly and it probably had something to do with the fact that I'd ignored his request to call him by his first name. That was too personal, too intimate, and I didn't want to have anything to do with him.

"Nothing that comes to mind?" he pressed again.

"Nope."

He abruptly slapped the file closed and leaned forward on his elbows. "You know why we're here, right? You know we're here to investigate the Iron Horsemen? And by extension, Caleb, too?" He waited for me to nod before continuing. "It's only a matter of time before we find what we're looking for, Isabelle."

I froze in my seat, knowing exactly where he was going with this, but I didn't want to hear it.

"Sooner or later," he went on softly and it felt like the temperature in this room had free-fallen. "He's going to end up in prison and then where will you be? Have you ever thought about that?"

I couldn't even conjure a reply and all I could do was sit quietly in my chair, willing this all to be over.

"He's already been arrested three times. The fourth could happen at anytime. You know that, don't you? At any given moment, we could find something or he could make a mistake and get caught and then he'll be gone, just like that."

My blood ran cold that this latest piece of information. I knew he'd been arrested once, but three times? Why didn't I know that? Why hadn't he told me? My head was barely above water as it was and if this went on for too much longer, it might drown me altogether.

Agent Jordan's head cocked to the side as he silently observed me. "He never told you that, did he? I can only imagine what else he hasn't told you, what else he's done that he doesn't want you to know."

I now understood what was really going on here: Agent Jordan had set out to twist my head around until I couldn't see straight. And goddammit, it was working.

"I don't even want to talk about what must go on at their clubhouse when you're not there—how many women he must have behind your back, especially now that you're living together. And he still has his room in the clubhouse, doesn't he? You'd never know, never have any idea what he was doing in that room whenever you're not around. They all do it, Isabelle, and trust me, Caleb isn't any different."

My eyes narrowed suspiciously at his current line of questioning and he seemed to realize his error. There was a line and he'd just crossed that invisible line. I didn't even want to know how he knew Caleb and I were living together and now, I was done with this conversation.

"I'm sorry," Agent Jordan backpedalled quickly, holding his hands up in the air in defense. "I'm just trying to help you. That's all this. I'm sure you don't believe me, but I really want to help you."

"How are you planning on doing that?" I shot back hotly.

Agent Jordan shrugged simply. "You may not have been around them long enough to see it yet, but their lives are just an endless cycle. They commit crimes, get caught, go to jail, get out, and then do it all over again. Sometimes there are months in between, sometimes years, but it always happens. The cycle never ends and Caleb is just getting in deeper with the Horsemen. Sooner or later, that's going to catch up to him."

My breath caught in my throat as his words sank deep.

"If you stay with him, Isabelle, you're just going to get caught up in it too. And the longer you stay, the more responsibility you have. Look at your friend Lexie—what would happen to her and her baby if Dominic went to prison? What would she do? How would she make ends meet?"

"We would help her. I would help her. I know she'd do the same for me," I shook my head furiously, trying to block out everything he was telling me.

"Maybe. But that's not the kind of life anyone aspires to. And someday, Isabelle, you might have kids with Caleb and even if he marries you, even if you have some help around you, you'll still be alone at the end of the day."

It was like he'd just taken everything Caleb and I had planned and twisted it into something evil and ugly. There was no way he could know how close all that hit home, but still...I hated myself for even giving his words a moment's thought.

My eyes burned from the impact and all I wanted to do was get out of this room. In that instant, I hated Agent Jordan. The fear and intimidation he'd instilled in me crept away, leaving only frustration and disbelief in their wake. I had the sudden urge to leap to my feet and punch that slimy smile off Agent Jordan's face, or at the very least, use the pepper spray on him that Caleb had given me a long time ago. It was just too bad something like that would get me arrested because then I'd have to actually stay here in this precinct.