Page 31 of Worth the Heat
“I do,” Isabella says nervously, her hand finding mine. I squeeze it reassuringly, and notice Rico’s eyes darting down to our joined hands.
“My girl has the best bakery around,” I state, bringing her hand up to my lips. My head is turned toward Isabella, but my eyes are on Rico. “I’m there as often as I can be.”
“Oh?” Rico challenges. “I haven’t noticed you there yet.”
Wanting to get Isabella out of direct contact, in case anything goes bad, I pull her hand around my waist, turning her slightly so she’s behind me, with her front to my back. I internally celebrate when her other hand naturally slides across my abdomen to linkup. “I may not always be there in person, but rest assured, I’m always there in other ways.”
Rico looks like he’s going to continue the conversation when Trey steps in. “It’s good that you’re protecting your girl. Can’t be too safe these days. Listen, we gotta go. Just got a family emergency come up.”
Uh-huh. Sure.
As I watch the potential recruits leave with Luke, Trace approaches. “That tall one is about as smart as a box of rocks, but that little guy is looking for a fight. He asked way too many personal questions about security for the Club, how you got started, and wanted to know what side of the law we stay on.”
“Nice,” I mutter as Isabella drops her arms, stepping away from me. I reach out and snag a hand, desperately needing the connection. I’m relieved when she doesn’t fight me, and I wonder if she senses how fired up I am right now. I can keep a calm exterior, but inside, my blood is fucking boiling.
Whoever this group is, they’ve not only come after my woman, but they’ve walked right into my world. I have no doubt Luke explained the dynamics of the group, and how I live on the property. I’ve made it abundantly clear to everyone that they’re never to mention Camila, but I wouldn’t put it past him to reference her vaguely, and Rico would catch it. He’s a slimy bastard, that much I can tell.
“What’s the plan?” Trace asks.
“Definitely Bravo for the time being.” I chose to keep a lot of the military terminology within the Club that the guys are used to hearing and understanding. There are five basic levels of security for the military: Normal, Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta. Normal is the baseline for operation. Alpha is an increased risk, which we’d jumped to when Isabella’s apartment was ransacked and she was attacked. Knowing these assholes are gutsy enough to walk right into the Clubhouse, I have to raise it to Bravo immediately.I’m tempted to go to Charlie, which insinuates some kind of attack is imminent, but I have no evidence of that as of yet.
“Alright. I’ll send out the alert. You hanging tonight?” Trace asks, his eyes darting between me and Isabella. Usually once a week, I stay to spend time with the guys. I don’t drink a lot, but having a couple of beers with them is for morale and connections. But tonight, I’m suddenly so damn weary.
“Nah. I’m beat. I think we’re gonna head home.” I could have worded it differently, but I want Isabella to know that I’m thinking of the future. That maybe my house will become hers as well.
I say goodbye to my men, then slowly begin walking the short distance back to my property. Isabella silently walks beside me. I can almost hear her mind working as she tries to come to terms with the evening.
“Should I be worried?” she finally asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” I admit. When she gasps, I stop walking to turn to her. Catching her face in my hands, I continue. “Let me rephrase. I’m not sure what we’re up against here. There has to be a connection between those guys and what’s happened at your apartment and with your ex.”
“I don’t like the unknowns.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and her eyes glaze over with tears. “I don’t do well with gray. I’d rather have black and white.”
“I know,mi Reina,” I reply tenderly. “It’s why you like baking. The measurements either work, or they don’t.”
“How am I supposed to go on working like nothing is happening?” Isabella’s voice cracks as her emotions take over. “Hi, welcome to Bake, Batter, and Bowl. Would you like an apple turnover? I made them this morning after being threatened by my ex-boyfriend. Oh, you’d rather have a red velvet cupcake? Those are on the docket for this afternoon, when I’ll undoubtedly get roughed up by the gang my ex apparently got involved with. No,sorry, I don’t make donuts here. There’s a donut shop down the street, and I bet they don’t have to fear for their lives while working.” Her voice rises, bordering on hysteria.
“Isabella,” I say, resting my hands on her shoulders. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“What?” she asks, confused.
“It’s a clear question, sweetheart. Have I ever lied to you?”
She pauses to think, her eyes going over my right shoulder. “I don’t think so, no.”
“I’ve been asking you out for years. Yes?”
She nods, almost shyly.
“Do you still stand by your previous statement, that I haven’t lied to you?”
Her eyes widen. “Well, I wasn’t thinking in terms of you asking me out.”
“How is it any different?” I ask.
Isabella shrugs. “It’s just you’re … you.”
I stare at her incredulously. “So?”
