Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2) (39 page)

I gritted my teeth and huffed out an exasperated breath. Unfinished business my ass. As far as I was concerned, the only unfinished business between Caleb and me was the house.

"You know what, Dad?" I exhaled as I pushed myself heavily off the couch. "I think I need to go for a drive and clear my head. I need to pick up your prescriptions anyway. I'll be back in a little bit, okay?"

He nodded sadly. "Alright. I'll just...you know, be here."

I smiled in spite of our sad existence and headed back to the driveway where I'd parked the BMW.

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Once I was rolling down the street, I cranked up the radio and just drove, which didn't exactly work out so well for me because each mile brought with it a new flash of an old memory—ones I'd previously cemented way up high in that compartment of my mind housing all my pain.

So going for a drive back-fired on me. Go figure.

Once my dad's many prescriptions were tucked safely in my purse on the passenger seat, I still needed to kill some time and found myself at a gas station right on the edge of town.

Driving around aimlessly and just as purposelessly had landed me right where I was and no closer to resolving this lingering frustration, confusion, and plain, raw heartache. What I needed was a distraction and as I pushed through the door and the cashier, the same one who'd worked here for years, smiled at me with happy surprise.

"Hey, Isabelle Martin! I heard you were back in town. It's great to see you!" he waved to me.

"Hi, Denny," I smiled back weakly. "It's good to see you too."

I started my trek toward an aisle before he could jump even deeper into conversation. He was a sweet old man, but I just wasn't here to chat. All I wanted to do was walk around and for some reason, I'd picked this gas station today.

I walked laps around the gas station in a fog right up until the bell over the entrance chimed and three leather cuts walked in the door.

All the hairs on my arms stood on end and I nearly dropped the bottle of Mountain Dew I was holding. Instead, I clenched my hands around it, willing myself to stay hidden somewhere, that maybe they were like the dinosaurs in
Jurassic World—
maybe if I didn't move, those predators wouldn't be able to see me.

When I finally turned my head to get a better look at them, my eyes widened. Those were no Horsemen cuts. Instead of a fiery, devil-eyed black horse stitched onto the back, a skull wielding a machete laughed in my face.

Warlords.

They were a long way from Pittsburgh...what the hell were they doing here?

It'd been a long time since I'd been anywhere near a leather cut and I'd forgotten just how powerful one could be. Everything stopped in that gas station the second they walked inside. Denny stood at attention, watching their every move with fear in his eyes and the two other patrons inside were doing exactly what I was: trying to stay hidden and out of view. My fingers dipped inside my purse to brush my knife just to remind myself it was there.

Living in New York had taught me to take precautions because you just never knew what might happen to a single girl living in a big city. Keeping a knife and my mammoth black lab on me at all times, not to mention taking self-defense classes with my PR girl from the gallery, gave me the little bit of security I needed to feel safe living on my own. I'd just forgotten I wasn't necessarily safe in a small town like Claremont either.

Suddenly, one of the Warlords rounded the corner, heading right for me. I sucked in a breath and pretended to read the label on the back of my Mountain Dew and this man, with his shiny bald head, stocky build, and roguish smirk, wasn't convinced.

"Excuse me, miss," he told me with a wink as he side-stepped around me to get to the beer section.

My heart pounded furiously in my chest as I watched him reach up with a tattooed forearm to grab a six-pack from the highest shelf. I got an eyeful of his president's patch and quickly turned my head before he could catch me staring. Without another glance around the store, I walked to the front as calmly as I could. The last thing I needed was to draw unnecessary attention to myself and putting my soda back and hightailing it out of the store would do just that.

I set my soda on the counter smiled tightly at Denny, whose eyes met mine for just a moment before flicking back to the three leather cuts behind me.
 

"You okay, Isabelle?" he asked me quietly.

I nodded right away and when I turned my head ever-so-slightly to my left, the Warlords' bald president was staring right back at me with narrowed eyes.

Denny's gaze flew to where mine had been only to find the Warlords' president murmuring lowly to his two minions.

"Maybe you should wait until they leave," Denny whispered to me.

"It's fine," I laughed a little, trying and failing desperately at any ounce of normalcy.

This was just paranoia. That's all it was. They couldn't possibly know anything about me, especially since I'd never seen any of those men before in my life. I just knew enough Horsemen history to know I didn't want to be anywhere near them, let alone any other club affiliated with them. But the longer I stood there, the more I felt those calculating grey eyes seize me like a shark circling its prey.

Yep. Time to get the hell out of here. I finished paying, grabbed my soda from the counter, and despite Denny's quiet protests, hightailed it back into the parking lot and didn't stop until I locked myself inside my dad's car.

But when I put the key in the ignition, a funny thing happened. The fucker wouldn't start. I just kept turning and turning, willing the stupid piece of junk to pull its shit together, and jumped with my heart in my throat when someone rapped on the driver's side window.

The Warlords' president grinned back at me through the glass and gestured with a ringed hand toward my ignition.

"Need some help?" he called out through the window.

I shook my head and plastered on a smile. Maybe if I was polite, he would just leave me alone.

"I'm alright. The engine takes awhile to turn over sometimes."

It wasn't completely a lie, but right now, I was all about getting those leather cuts back on their bikes and as far away from me as possible.

"You sure? I could, you know, give you a ride somewhere or somethin' if you need. It'd be my pleasure."

I just batted a hand with a tight smile and pushed away whether or not that offer was a thinly-veiled threat.

"Nah. I'm good. If I can't get it started, I'll just call my dad," who wouldn't be able to get me since I was currently sitting in our only mode of transportation, but the president of the Warlords MC didn't need to know that.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Suit yourself then. Just tryin' to do my good Samaritan act of the day. Good luck to ya, Isabelle."

My eyes flashed at him in surprise and he just winked before cocking two fingers at me in a mock-salute as he backpedalled toward his bike. I held my breath until all three swung their legs over their bikes, revved the engines, and left the parking lot. As soon as they were down the street and out of view, I blew out a deep breath and leaned forward until my head rested against the steering wheel.

I turned the ignition again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Finally, I had to admit defeat.

Of all the random, terrible luck...

Before I could stop myself, I dug into my purse for my wallet and pulled out the business card I'd tucked away for safekeeping. And then just as quickly, I shoved it right back into my wallet. Thinking about calling him was a disastrous idea. Actually going through with it would be an abysmal dive head-first into Crazy Town.

So I chose the lesser of the two evils instead.

I only had to wait about 10 minutes before a Sawyer Auto Repair tow truck pulled into the parking lot. And I guess, given the way my day was going, I really shouldn't have been surprised to see Dominic Fletcher climb out of the truck with his blue work shirt on.

Three blasts from the past all in the span of less than five hours? I was on a roll today.

"Hey, Isabelle," Dom waved to me with that kind, familiar smile on his scruffy face. "I heard you're having some car trouble."

"Hi Dom," I nodded to him as he closed the distance between us. "You heard right."

He shocked the hell out of me by pulling me into a tight bear hug and releasing me just as quickly. "Long time no see, right?"

"Right," I laughed. "It's good to see you, Dom."

A wide smile spread across his face. "It's good to see you too. Man, you're a sight for sore eyes. I just wish it wasn't under such shitty circumstances, you know seeing as how you're sitting here stranded in a parking lot, right?"

"Right," I nodded again.

That was the thing about Dom. He'd always been the quietest one in the room, but because of that, he was also the most observant and most perceptive one, too. He saw what everyone else didn't and him bypassing any mention of my dad was right in line with everything I knew about him.

He gestured with his head toward the car and in no time, he popped the hood and stuck his head under to inspect the damage.

"Well," he glanced at me from underneath the hood. "From the looks of it, your starter's shot."

I winced. Shit. That sounded bad. And probably really expensive.

"Don't worry," Dom laughed. "It's fixable. I just have to get it to the shop before I can do that for you."

"Okay. Thanks," I nodded and chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to think of the best way to say what I needed to tell him. In the end, there was no sugar-coating it. "I saw some of the Warlords when I was in the gas station just now."

Dom's head shot up from underneath the hood of my dad's car, suddenly colder, tighter, and with more edge than the easy-going, kind guy I was used to seeing. "What happened?"

"Nothing really," I lifted a shoulder. It was difficult to explain just how threatened I'd felt when nobody had really done
anything that could be defined as threatening. "They just made me really uncomfortable, especially since they knew me. I mean, I've never seen any of them before, especially not the president—"

"Wallace was there?" Dom cut in sharply, his hands clenching around the edge of the hood until his knuckles turned white.

I nodded.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He just asked me if I needed help when my car wouldn't start. It wasn't really a big deal...he just scared me."

That was all Dom needed to hear. He promptly directed me to the truck's passenger seat and made quick work of loading my dad's car onto the truck, all the while scanning the roads with an eagle eye and talking to someone on his phone. It wasn't until we were finally on the road that I realized he wasn't taking me in the right direction. Or, more specifically, not in the right shop's direction.

"Dom."

He shot me a sideways glance. "Sorry, Isabelle. I don't have a whole lot of options right now. I need to get to the clubhouse now and you need your starter fixed. It's just a means to an end for both of us."

"If I remember correctly, the shop you're taking me to doesn't exactly service BMWs."

Dom grinned at me with a hearty laugh. "Yeah, well, Caleb knows how to replace a starter on a car. Trust me, helping you out won't be a problem for him."

At this point, I figured I'd do us both a favor and changed the subject to something a little more user-friendly.

"So," I started easily. "You're the big VP now, huh?"

"Oh, you heard?" Dom laughed. "That's sorta old news, isn't it?"

"I haven't seen you in awhile," I reminded him, a sad smile crossing my lips. "Is it everything you hoped it would be and more?"

I'd meant to inject some lightness into the conversation, but all that comment did was send a deep line into Dom's forehead.

"It's alright," he allowed slowly. "I can't say I mind the status. A little extra money never hurt either. It's kinda weird though, especially since I never thought I'd actually get the VP patch until Caleb was..."

He trailed off, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. None of our lives had turned out the way we thought they would, but then again, did anyone's? If someone had told me eight years ago I'd be right where I was and that Caleb would be where he was, and that we wouldn't be in those places together, I would've wanted to punch that person in the face for even
suggesting
life could go any other way than according to plan.

I couldn't take the silence anymore and seeing as how I was trapped in this truck and heading right back to where I'd been just a couple hours ago, the least Dom could do was give me some answers.

"Do I have anything to worry about?" I asked him quietly. "How would that guy even know me? Would he know Caleb and I used to..."

I trailed off, unable to finish that last sentence and, luckily, Dom jumped in to fill in the blanks for me without dwelling too much on the past.

He pushed out a rough sigh and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I'm gonna spare you the details, but things between us and the Warlords have been pretty tense for awhile. Pretty much since we got out of prison. Wallace was there that day we made the exchange and all of us got our stupid asses arrested and ever since then, things have been escalating. It's all been really subtle, petty kind of shit these last few years, but ever since he got the president patch six months ago, we've had some problems."