Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2)

by K. Ryan

  My eyes fell to the empty chair just a few paces down the table from me and I pushed out a heavy sigh. Eli was still MIA, still out on the road, on his own, trying to sort out his demons. I didn't envy him for a second, but after a three-week absence with virtually zero contact with anyone, the mere mention of his name was becoming almost as taboo as the would-be-rat I'd dropped off at the precinct.

  Finally, Marcus dropped down into his seat at the head of the table and pounded the gavel, eyeing my attire with one skeptical, cocked eyebrow. Whatever. They could rag on me however they wanted as long as we moved this along.

  "This'll be a quick one, boys," Marcus huffed out gruffly with one last glance my way. "There's just one order of business to handle tonight, but it's a big one. Got a call from Wallace, says the Warlords are lookin' for a delivery ASAP for a buyer and are willing to pay for our speedy service."

  I straightened up my chair and asked the question on everyone's mind: "How much are we talkin' about here?"

  "$30K bonus for the delivery. Whoever goes splits it," Marcus related.

  Shit.

  I didn't even need to look at Dom to know he was on the same page as me. Everything I'd had to pay for in the past few months and all the bills that would rack up on me in the next few years too, flashed through my mind all at once. The house payments. Isabelle's engagement ring. The $5K I'd handed to her dad in that envelope. Jesus, the last health insurance bill I'd paid had been nearly $700 thanks to Isabelle's shit insurance through the shop. Apparently, a pregnancy was a 'pre-existing condition' in their minds and so I'd footed almost 75 percent of that recent bill.

  I'd feel a helluva lot better going into our wedding next weekend with that extra cash in the bank. All the things I'd promised her and all the things I wanted to give her...I could start reaching for it with this money.

  "What about the ATF?" Heath asked quietly from his end of the table.

  "Nobody's seen or heard from them since I left Becca at the precinct," I offered. Right about now, I was willing to do and say just about anything to get my ass added to this run. "Kelly told us himself they packed up their shit and lit outta here, what, not even three days after? They threw all their chips down on a dark horse that never had a shot at winning and they lost. We were careful, we covered our asses, and it paid off. They're long gone."

  My gut was telling me I was right and the last time my gut told me to do something, I was the one who'd been careful when everyone else sitting at this table did nothing but blindly follow orders.

  Heath took a long pull from his cigarette in thought. "Yeah. But we don't know they're gone for sure. How do we know they're not just hidin' out somewhere and waitin' for us to make our next move?"

  "They didn't get what they wanted from us," Dom tossed out, casting me a careful glance as he spoke. "They moved on. Pulled out and cut their losses. There's no sense in us bleedin' cash any longer than we have to."

  I nodded to him. It was reassuring to hear, out loud for the rest of the club to hear, that I wasn't crazy. This was the type of deal that set my family on the path to an easy, comfortable life where they would want for nothing.

  "Do the Warlords know we've had the ATF sniffin' around?" Casey wondered out loud.

  Marcus shook his head. "Not as far as I know."

  "Doesn't matter anyway," I told the table. "They won't be a problem."

  "From what I'm hearin', it sounds like Caleb and Dom are volunteering," Marcus surmised ruefully with a weariness that told me he wasn't exactly keen on the idea.

  "The Warlords aren't exactly a club we want to piss off," I shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, not takin' this deal puts us worse off than if we don't. We can't afford to get on the Warlords' bad side. We say no now and how do we know they won't pull back on more offers and give them to a competitor until we got nothing up north?"

  The Warlords were one of the most in-demand and powerful distributors with wide-reaching connections north of Tennessee. They had as many connections there as we did and for that reason alone, both of us needed to stay in each other's good graces.

  Marcus' eyes fell to Dom, who nodded tightly in the affirmative.

  "Alright," he shrugged. "Looks like Dom and Caleb are taking the cargo up to Pittsburgh tomorrow."

  As far as I was concerned, the ATF was all but a distant memory. Besides, even if they weren't, we'd lost them easily before. We'd take a different route to Pittsburgh, crash in Cincinnati again if we had to just to be on the safe side, just like we'd done last time. This was nothing but business now. They'd either been reassigned or quit while they were ahead.

  Finally, Marcus swung the gavel down to end church and I practically leapt out of my chair to head right for the exit. Church had, as I'd predicted, gone for longer than I'd anticipated and now, I was right on track to show up at least 20 minutes into the showcase. The gallery was open for two hours, but I didn't want to miss even a minute more than I had to.

  My hand was already on the doorknob when Marcus' voice called me back, "Caleb. Got a minute?"

  "Shit," I muttered under my breath. No, I didn't really have a minute, but I couldn't exactly blow him off either.

  Still, I reared back to face him while the rest of the club cleared out of the chapel. "Alright. What's up?"

  Marcus gestured for me to have a seat at the table, right in the chair Heath had just left vacant and the implication wasn't lost on me. Someday soon, this would be my chair. My responsibility. My time away from my wife and my kids. My eyes flicked to the chair, just waiting for me to occupy it, and I hesitated. My fingers tingled a little—this wasn't a big deal. It was just a chair. That's all it was. A chair rooted in the legacy hovering over my shoulders now like an anchor, weighing me down, keeping me in place and in line.

  His dark eyes locked on me as I dropped into the chair and he smoothed a hand over his salt-and-pepper ponytail before reaching into his cut for his cigarette pack. After tapping one out of the pack, he offered it to me.

  "Nah," I shook my head and dug into my pocket for my nicotine gum instead. "I'm tryin' to quit. You know, 'cuz of the kid."

  "Right," he nodded to me, gesturing towards my chest. "You got somewhere to be tonight?"

  "Iz has a showcase at her school. We were on our way out the door when I got the text for church."

  "Fair enough," Marcus shrugged. "I'll make this quick then. You havin' money problems, son?"

  I balked at the question, rearing my head back and huffed out a laugh. "Where's this comin' from?"

  He just lifted an eyebrow. "When I brought this deal with the Warlords to the table, I honestly didn't think anyone would jump on it. I figured it'd just be a formality and then I'd make the call to Wallace to turn him down. I never thought anyone, you especially, would take the risk."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I think you're takin' a stupid risk by takin' this job."

  I swallowed hard. "We won't have any problems. We'll deliver the cargo, get paid, and keep the Warlords happy. Everybody wins. And besides, I didn't see you sittin' me down like this before all that shit went down a few weeks ago. That was a pretty goddamn big risk, too, wasn't it? Look how that turned out. Maybe I actually know what I'm talkin' about here."

  And maybe that's what was really bothering him—the fact that I might be right and he could be wrong.

  Marcus observed me carefully for a long moment and then leaned forward in his chair. "I know we haven't exactly seen eye to eye on shit lately. I also know you've got a lot of new responsibilities right now and I know all that shit got sprung on you pretty much all at once. You wanna take care of what's yours and provide for them and I'm sure all you're seeing is dollar signs right now. The last thing I wanna see is you doin' something stupid just to make a quick buck."

  I laughed bitterly. "Okay. If that's really the way you feel, why the hell didn't you bring this up at the table?"

  "I figured you wouldn't want me asking you these kinda questions in front
of the club. All I gotta do is call Wallace and tell him we're sittin' this one out. As soon as I tell him about our reservations, he'll probably be grateful we turned him down."

  Right, because then I'd look like a complete pussy for backing out now.

  "I think you're making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be," I told him, choosing my words carefully.

  There was a long pause before Marcus spoke again. "You need money, all you gotta do is ask. You can pay me back when things get going again and I won't say a word to anyone."

  The last thing I needed or wanted right now was a handout. Marcus would call it a loan, but I knew better.

  "I appreciate the offer," I told him tightly. "I really do, but I can take care of my family on my own."

  "C'mon," he shot back. "You're my family, too."

  Am I really?

  It was right on the tip of my tongue, but the words never gained any ground. Between all the added tension surrounding this table, the term 'family' didn't really sit well with me here.

  When I didn't respond, Marcus held up both hands in surrender. "Alright. If this is the call you wanna make, I'm not gonna stand in your way."

  "Good. Are we done here? I gotta get my ass on the road."

  Marcus dipped his down, signaling I was free to go, and I shot off the chair, heading right for the exit. I practically sprinted through the clubhouse and the parking lot until I was slipping back into the driver's seat of the truck. As I sped out of the lot toward the highway, I pushed Marcus's offer out of my head.

  I didn't need his help.

  I didn't need anyone's help.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Commitment

  Isabelle

  I glanced over at the gallery's main entrance one more time before turning my attention back to my exhibit. There were plenty of people coming and going through the doors, but I'd yet to see the person I was looking for. There was still a half hour left of the showcase, but that also meant he'd missed an hour and a half of the whole thing too.

  The butterflies bouncing around in my stomach weren't helping. I'd always thought finally getting to display my work in a real gallery for a real audience would be one of the biggest highs of my life and now that it was here, I thought I might throw up all over my stilettos, and not because of morning sickness. That tightening in my throat, the clammed up, sweaty feeling in my palms...it was too similar to what I'd felt right after the break-in and I did everything I could to swallow it down, to get it under control.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew my work wouldn't be in the semester showcase tonight if it sucked. I knew I was talented and my work was worthy of showing; my professors all semester had told me as much and then some.

  But now that an actual audience had become a very real reality, I wanted to bolt. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to lock myself in a bathroom until the showcase was over. So much for getting myself under control.

  Not having Caleb here to anchor me just multiplied that feeling exponentially.

  I blew out a deep breath and my eyes immediately flew back to the main entrance. Still nothing. More people were starting to filter out of the gallery as things started to move toward a downswing and I felt my heart sink a little.

  Our life together would never be normal. I was still sorting out how I felt about that just when I thought I'd started to come to terms with it. In light of everything the last few weeks had thrown at us, I just felt so tired. I just wanted to crawl into bed with Caleb and let him hold me until everything calmed down, until everything just became a little bit easier.

  Luckily, Dr. Jacobs, of all people, yanked me out the black hole I was teetering over.

  "Isabelle," she smiled broadly, spreading her arms out into the space around her. "What a wonderful turn out, no?"

  "Yeah," I grinned back. At this point, I'd take any distraction I could get and if it had to be Dr. Jacobs, then so be it. "It's pretty great."

  "I noticed there was quite the crowd around your pieces tonight," Dr. Jacobs nodded. "And rightly so. Where is your young man? I was under the impression he'd be here tonight."

  "He will be," I pushed out a little too quickly. "He's just running late."

  "Of course," Dr. Jacobs nodded, but this time, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Now, Isabelle, since we have a moment, I wanted to speak to you about setting up an appointment next week. We should discuss your options for the rest of your coursework as soon as possible now that this semester is behind you."

  I frowned back at her. "What do you mean?"

  Dr. Jacobs' eyes dropped to my stomach. "You're due in December, correct?"

  "Yeah," I nodded weakly.

  "Your due date takes you right to the end of next semester. I'm sure we'll be able to get your studio hours and everything else completed before then, but there's still the issue of what you'll do the following semesters. We really should discuss how much time you'll want off, how you'd like to schedule your studio hours and I'm not sure if you were aware of this or not, but we also have a daycare here on campus that you may want to utilize. There's always the option of adding in courses and studio hours this summer to move you along before your due date."

  I hadn't thought of any of that. I'd been so focused on the present, so focused on getting through these last few weeks that I hadn't really thought about what my life would look like once the baby was here.

  The reality was overwhelming.

  "Um," that was the best I could come up with on the spot. "I'll have to talk to my fiancé about all of that."

  "Of course. Speak with him first and then email me when you'd like to set-up the appointment," Dr. Jacobs pressed a tight smile on her face, her eyes serious and concerned in a way I'd never seen them before. "You are one of the most talented students I've ever had the pleasure of working with, Isabelle. Your work comes from a different place than most students. Most focus on technique and form, but there's an emotional connection you have to it that's real and raw and beautiful. That's what people respond to. I would hate to see you throw away any opportunities because of..."

  I was expecting her to say because of family responsibilities. Because I'd put my family before myself. Because I'd sacrificed my career for my family...but then I turned my head and found the person I'd been waiting for striding right up to me.

  Still dressed in that crisp white button-down tucked into well-fit black pants, he'd appropriately left his cut in the truck, but my heart still stuttered and skipped at the welcome sight of him. Caleb anxiously tucked some stray hair behind his ear as he approached us, already reaching out to wrap an arm around my waist.

  He kissed the side of my head, oblivious to anyone around us, and murmured in my ear, "I'm sorry I'm late. I got here as soon as I could."

  "It's okay," I told him with a quick smile.

  Dr. Jacobs cleared her throat, and just like all the other women in the gallery and some of the men too, she regarded Caleb appreciatively.

  "Well," she stated simply. "This must be the young man I've heard so much about."

  I nodded quickly, feeling a blush creep across my cheeks, and gestured to Caleb, who cast me a wolfish grin before extending his hand in greeting.

  "Dr. Jacobs, this is Caleb Sawyer," I introduced them quickly. "Caleb, Dr. Jacobs."

  "Isabelle's told me nothin' but good things about you," Caleb started, winking at me as he spoke. "Nice to finally meet you."

  Dr. Jacobs, clearly charmed by his effort, placed a hand gingerly over her heart. "Well, I'd hope so."

  With a sincere smile, Dr. Jacobs' hand found my arm and I jumped a little at the contact. "I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening. Don't forget to email me."

  "She didn't seem so scary," Caleb whispered in my ear as Dr. Jacobs moved away from my exhibit. "Guess that must mean you're doing something right, Iz."

  I just blew out a deep breath in reply and squeezed his hand as Caleb gestured with his head toward my display. All ten paintings had been set up wi
th the proper lighting and organization I'd asked for. I'd been obsessing about the arrangement for the two last months when I first found out my work had been chosen for the semester showcase. The light really did highlight all the textures, colors, and you could even see the angle I'd used with my paintbrush.

  Caleb stepped even closer until he was close enough to touch them. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat a few times and his hands sunk deep into his pockets as he took in each stroke and each dash of color. It was fitting that the first one he stood in front of was the one inspired by the new life we were building together.

  "What do you think?" I murmured to him, taking my place beside him.

  His eyebrows rose and his gaze flicked back to me for a second before returning back to the painting in front of him. "What do I think, Iz? I think it's absolutely beautiful. I mean, I still don't really understand what I'm looking at here, but I know I love it. I know it's special."

  "Well," I laughed and leaned into his shoulder. "It's abstract. It's supposed to be all about the feelings, the emotions."

  He grinned down at me proudly and then his eyes fell back on the canvas filled with bright, happy twirls in splashes of yellows, blues, and greens. "So what were you feeling when you painted this one?"

  My eyes flew back to the display and my hand reflexively landed right on top of my little baby bump. "I was thinking about the baby."

  Caleb turned his head to face me again with a tender smile spread across his face and he draped an arm around my shoulder to tuck me in close. We stood there for a little while, staring dreamily up at my painting, and finally, I felt myself relax.

  "You're gonna put that in the nursery, right?"

  "Oh yeah. Definitely."

  "Good," he grinned and then we moved on to the next piece, my earliest attempt at a nature scene depicting a lone figure walking through a maze of autumn leaves and earthy tones. "What about this one?"

  "My mom," I exhaled and quickly jumped to explain when his face fell a little. "When we got home from the doctor's office right after she found out she had cancer, she didn't say much. She just announced she wanted to go for a walk and left."