Carry Your Heart

by K. Ryan

  I leapt off my bike, sprinting up the walkway and banging my way through the front door, but my steps skidded in the entryway.

  This house was just too quiet. It was eerie. It felt cold and barren, despite the fact that it was almost 70 degrees outside.

  Cold panic spiked in my chest, tightening and choking me, but I had to push through it. With Dom and Eli right on my heels, we broke off through the house, each systematically scouring the abandoned space for signs of life as quickly as possible.

  Between the living room, the kitchen, and all the hallways in between, we found jackshit. But as I pivoted down yet another darkened hallway, the edge of another door came into view, opened just a crack, but enough to see Isabelle's dad slumped over against a wall. Fury lurched me forward and I slammed through the door, darting over to Samuel Martin's limp body.

  Gripping him by his shirt collar, I hauled him up only to slam him against the wall to force that asshole to open his eyes.

  "What did you do, you son of a bitch?" I spat in his face. "Where is she?"

  Samuel Martin's face crumbled and a low groan vibrated from his throat, mumbling something so inaudibly that I had to lean forward just to make it out.

  "I'm sorry," Samuel sobbed into his hands. "I'm so sorry."

  I shoved him away, too disgusted with the man to even look at him, and that was when I saw it.

  Droplets of blood sprinkled the carpet where we stood and my heart backflipped all the way down into my stomach. Forgetting all about the man curled up into the fetal position at my feet, my eyes followed the tiny beads of crimson past the door's threshold. I was up on my feet, rushing out the door just as Dom skidded to a stop in front of me.

  "Stay with him," I barked over my shoulder and I took off for the staircase, bounding up the steps two by two to get to Isabelle's bedroom.

  "Iz?" I pounded on her door with one fist and shook the locked door knob with the other. "Iz, it's me. Come on, open up."

  I waited two more seconds, then took a step back before ramming my shoulder into the door. When the door creaked and groaned, but still didn't open, I reared back again, slamming my shoulder through her bedroom door. My eyes frantically scanned the bedroom and all the air left the room when I finally found her.

  I couldn't move. I couldn't think.

  She was crawling out of her closet on her hands and knees with a blood-soaked rag wrapped around one hand, but that wasn't what rooted me to the carpet. My heart sliced in half at the sight of her bruised, blood-smeared, tear-stained face, her disheveled blonde hair, and those frantic, desperate blue eyes.

  My feet jerked to life, sliding across the carpet until I fell on my knees in front of her and tugged her to me. I had to give her whatever she needed right now. Anything to erase that haunted look in her eyes. Anything to make it so this never happened.

  "I got you, Iz," I murmured into her hair, wrapping her even more tightly against my chest. "You're okay, babe. You're gonna be okay. I got you."

  Her shoulders shook violently and her tears soaked the front of my work shirt. All I could do was just hold her and swallow the lump in my throat threatening to topple the rest of my emotions. My fingers found her chin and I gently brushed the tears from her eyes. I needed her to look at me, to really see me, so she knew I was really there, but I also needed to take a quick inventory of her face.

  There was a cut across her left cheek and a smattering of purple dots right underneath her eye, which would probably be a nasty shiner in the morning. Another stray tear trailed down her cheek, but I caught it with my thumb. My lips brushed against hers, just needing to give her some kind of comfort.

  That was the best I could do right now and I'd never felt so helpless in my entire life.

  "Hey, babe," I said hoarsely, gesturing down at her injured hand. "Can I take a look?"

  She nodded and I took her tiny left hand to gingerly unwind the fabric, which was probably torn from the first shirt she found in her closet.

  Swallowing tightly, I pressed the fabric back into the slash across her palm. The smaller, less threatening scrapes across her fingers would probably be fine but the long, jagged slice down the length of her palm might be another story. I'd seen a lot of bad situations through my involvement with the Horsemen over the years and none of the danger and none of the potential blowback had ever really seemed that tangible, but this? This wasn't something that could just be tossed aside and forgotten.

  This was a nightmare.

  Tossing the soiled piece of fabric aside, I lifted up the edge of my own shirt, tearing a piece of it off with my teeth. After wrapping the cloth back around the cut, I reached up to brush the tears from her eyes. I just wanted to make this go away, to make everything better, and it killed me that all I could do was kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips. This was the best I could do? Wipe away her tears and give her a kiss?

  With one hand tangled in her hair, I wound the other around her back to pull her even closer. Her tears wet my face, but I just leaned back to wipe the ones that still streamed down her cheeks. Cupping both hands around her face, the distraught, haunted expression swimming in her eyes ripped what was left of my heart right out of my chest.

  "This can be fixed, Iz," I murmured into her hair. "You're alright. You're gonna be fine. I got you."

  She turned her head to bury her face into my work shirt that was already splattered with her tears. Her whole body was trembling and the only thing I could do was just hold her tighter.

  "I got you," I promised, kissing her hair. "I got you."

  Some movement and a little shuffling from the doorway caught my attention and I turned my head to see Dom behind me, staring back at the scene in front of him with an appropriately grim expression.

  "Hey, Iz?" I murmured to her, nodding to Dom as he crouched down next to us. "You gotta tell me what you want us to do."

  "What do you mean?" her voice came out in hushed, hoarse whispers and her eyes darted between Dom and me.

  "We can take you to the hospital," I told her gently. "But they're gonna take one look at you and have a shit-ton of questions. If that's what you want, I'll do it. You just gotta say the word, babe, and I'll do it."

  Isabelle swallowed tightly. "What's my other option?"

  "We take you to the clubhouse. Get you patched up. Anything else you need. And then you can decide what you wanna do about your dad."

  Even mentioning that piece of shit in passing made me want to shove my fist through a wall. Luckily, Isabelle was already shaking her head and I could refocus my attention back where it needed to be.

  "I don't wanna go to the hospital," she whispered and leaned into my chest, her eyes desperate. "I don't wanna answer any questions. He'd get arrested then, right?"

  Hell, yes he'd get arrested and right now, that seemed like a pretty good option, seeing as how beating the living hell out of him wouldn't solve any problems either. Asshole deserved to sit his ass in jail after what he did.

  And if jail wasn't an option, there was nothing I'd love more than to take my Ka-Bar knife and bury it right in Samuel Martin's chest, but Isabelle didn't need to know that.

  So I just nodded.

  "No hospitals," she blew out a haggard sigh. "But I don't wanna go to the clubhouse either. I just—I don't want anyone to see me like this."

  "What're you talkin' about?" I grinned down at her and ran my thumb over her cheek. "You're beautiful, Iz."

  She huffed out a laugh, wincing a little from the movement. "Yeah. Whatever you say. But...not the clubhouse, okay?"

  "Okay," I agreed, my eyes flicking to Dom in silent communication. "How about my mom's?"

  "Just for now?"

  "Just for now."

  Her chin dipped down in a nod and Dom was up on his feet a moment later with his phone pressed to his ear to make the call. Once the arrangements were made, I gingerly pulled Isabelle to her feet, tucking her safely underneath my shoulder to help her down the stairs, careful to steer her as far away from
her dad's office as possible. Eli already had the door shut and was stationed in front of it to stand guard until further notice.

  Grateful I finally had something to do that would actually help her, I loaded Isabelle into her car, slid into the driver's seat, and backed us out of the driveway to head towards my mom's house with Dom right behind us.

  . . .

  By the time I pulled Isabelle's Trans Am into the driveway with Dom coming in right next to me, my mom already had us beat. She was rushing to the passenger side door before I even had a chance to reach over and unbuckle Isabelle's seatbelt. She flung the door open and gathered Isabelle into her arms like any good mother would.

  "Come on, sweetie," she told Isabelle. "Let's get you in the house, okay?"

  Just as she was moving to help Isabelle out of the car, I slid out of the driver's side, jogged around the car and shot my mom a hard glare to get her the hell out of my way. Her dark eyes widened, but she got the hint, dutifully stepping aside so I could lean down to wrap my arm around Isabelle's shoulders and help her out of the car.

  As we moved through the garage and into the house, Isabelle leaned into me, gripping my free hand with her good one. My mom was already ahead of us and held the door open so we could step into the kitchen.

  Once I eased Isabelle into a chair at the table, my hands ghosted over her shoulders as I dropped into the chair next to her. Even though we were seated just inches away from each other, that minuscule bit of distance had my nerves jumping up through my throat and my fingers compulsively reached out until I found her skin, just needing to touch her, just needing to feel that she was still here.

  My mom moved over to the other side of Isabelle, setting a first aid kit down on the table while Dom fell into a chair on the opposite side of the table. No one said a word as my mom appraised Isabelle's injuries, quickly bandaging the bloodied slice across her left hand before moving on to dabbing at the cut on her cheek and securing a few tiny band-aids over the wound. When she rose from the table to get an ice pack and some meds, I took that opportunity to wrap my arm around Isabelle's shoulder again and kissed her hair.

  When Isabelle had an ice pack to her cheek and downed some Tylenol, my mom cleared her throat, melodramatically addressing the giant elephant in the room.

  Isabelle needed to rest, but first, she needed to tell me what the hell went down inside that house.

  "Iz," I started carefully and shifted in my chair so my body completely faced her. "You gotta tell us what happened."

  With my arm still glued around her, I squeezed her shoulder to give her a gentle nudge in the right direction, to let her know it was okay to tell us whatever she needed to say.

  Her bloodshot eyes flicked to me and if my heart wasn't already torn in two before, it was completely shredded now.

  "I went to the house because I wanted to check on him. I know that's not what I was supposed to do, but I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I was only gonna stay for a couple minutes and then I was gonna go to Becca's," Isabelle whispered and she was looking at me now like she expected me to start yelling at her or something.

  I leaned forward to make sure she heard this: "None of this is your fault, Iz. You weren't the one that did anything wrong today."

  She nodded and inhaled sharply. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she brushed it away. God, she was so strong. Even now, bloody and bruised, having survived something so goddamned horrific and she was still sitting here, standing tall and held together.

  My mom reached over and squeezed Isabelle's hand to prompt her to keep going. "What happened when you got to the house, sweetie?"

  "I found him in his office," Isabelle started again and I winced at how hoarse she sounded. "He was...I've never seen him that bad before. It was like he just gave up, you know? He dropped a glass and grabbed one of the pieces, but I stopped him before he could hurt himself."

  She held up her bandaged hand with a sad smile and swallowed tightly.

  "What happened after that, babe?" I asked as gently as possible because I knew this would be the hardest part for her to tell, but the part I needed to hear the most.

  "I don't know," she shook her head, wincing a little in pain from the effort. "I think I just snapped. I was just so sick of always having to deal with him drunk and taking all his crap every single day. I just couldn't do it anymore and I said a lot of things I shouldn't have said and then he started hitting me."

  My jaw tightened and I had to clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip to keep from physically reacting. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to murder the bastard for even thinking about laying a hand on her, but my main priority was sitting right next to me and I had to take care of her first.

  Isabelle's gaze sought me out and I wasn't going anywhere.

  "I called him a monster, Caleb," she whispered as fresh tears trailed down her cheek. "And I told him my mom would think he's a monster too."

  As far as I was concerned, she didn't tell the asshole anything that wasn't true, but that wasn't going to help her right now.

  "Hey," I drew her into my shoulder so I could kiss her hair. "He had no right to do what he did to you. Don't make excuses for him, okay?"

  She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. "I know."

  My mom reached out to brush away a stray piece of hair on Isabelle's face and gave her a reassuring smile. "I know this is hard, Isabelle, but you really need to tell us what you want us to do about your dad."

  Isabelle swallowed hard and sawed her bottom lip with her teeth. "Do I have to decide now? I mean...can't we wait a little while?"

  My mom shot me a glance over Isabelle's head and I shook my head.

  "The longer we wait, babe, the worse it's gonna be for you and for him," I told her gently. "I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but the faster you get him wherever you want him to be, the better it'll be for both of you."

  "I don't...what are my choices?"

  I lifted a shoulder. "Well, I'll happily drop him off at the station for Chief Kelly to deal with if that's what you wanna do."

  She laughed, but I didn't hear much humor in her voice. "No, I don't want him to go to jail, Caleb. I don't think that's the right place for him. I just want him to get help. I just want him to at least try to get better."

  Well, if that's what she wanted, then who was I to deny her? Deep down, I knew I'd do anything this girl asked without hesitation.

  So...time to get that asshole to rehab.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  All I Want Is You

  Caleb

  Hard silence permeated the air between us and I knew if I looked at the man sitting next to me, I just might pull Isabelle's Trans Am over and completely lose my shit. Up until now, I'd done a pretty good job of keeping it together for Isabelle's sake, but that was about it.

  As far as I was concerned, the man sitting next to me might as well have been dead.

  In hindsight, insisting that I be the one to drive Samuel Martin to the hospital probably wasn't the smartest idea I'd ever had. I could barely stand to be in the same room with him before and now, here I was, driving the man to rehab and quietly fantasizing about strangling him.

  My hands twisted around the steering wheel, imagining it was his neck instead and it was all I could do to shift my focus elsewhere to something that didn't involve killing him, or at the very least, causing him serious bodily harm.

  I just couldn't make sense of what happened tonight. Couldn't wrap my head around how someone could do something like that to someone he was supposed to love and take care of. To his daughter. To actually hit her?

  Thinking about this right now just got me one second closer to pulling the car over.

  I glanced at Isabelle's dad anyways, just to make sure he was still somewhat coherent, and found him boring holes into his hands like he couldn't believe what he'd used them for tonight.

  Good.

  Try to sleep on that for the rest of your life, asshole.

  Luckily for me, Claremont was
about as small town as it gets and the hospital was only a quick drive from Isabelle's house. My mom had taken care of making all the calls and getting all the information and then she'd slipped into that mother role for Isabelle again, making sure she had something to eat, checking her bandages, and putting her into my old bed at the house for some rest.

  My job wasn't quite done yet. I just had to get this worthless sack of shit into the hospital, sign a few forms, talk to a doctor, and then I was leaving his ass here where he belonged, where he couldn't hurt his daughter anymore.

  When I shifted the Trans Am into park, I hesitated, waiting to see if he'd even be able to get out of the passenger seat on his own. He'd sobered up a little since we'd found him and Isabelle in their house, but I didn't exactly trust that he was in any position to do just about anything right now either.

  "I bet you're really enjoying this right now, aren't you?"

  My neck snapped to the passenger side of the truck at the sound of his cold voice and my fists pressed into the sides of my legs to keep myself from throwing a punch.

  If he wanted to talk, fine.

  We could talk.

  "Yeah, you would think that," I told him, but I didn't bother looking at him. He just wasn't worth it. "But seein' as how you don't know anything about me, you also don't know jackshit about how I'm feelin' right now either."

  Samuel's shoulders shook with bitter laughter. "I know exactly who you are and what you are."

  "Oh, yeah?" my eyes stayed locked on the hospital's main entrance as I spoke. "And what's that?"

  "You're not better than me. Just because you're here, driving me to this place, doesn't mean you won."

  "I didn't realize we were competing," I shot back dryly.

  "And you're not as smart as you think you are either. I can see right through you, Sawyer. I see the way you look at my daughter and the way you've been sniffing around her and you're not fooling me. You're not the good guy you pretend to be whenever you're around her," he paused and shook his head angrily. "You know what you are? You're just a street thug dressed up in leather on a Harley. That's it. And you're not worth the dust on her feet or the dirt on her doorstep. You don't even deserve to come within 100 miles of her."