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She lifts her leg in and accepts a blanket from someone on the other side of her.
My heart slams into my chest, my fists clenching at my side as the seconds tick by and she’s nearly gone from my world.
Isabelle, run back to me. Forgive me.
Mack steps down beside me, dropping a bag as the driver closes the door and circles the car.
No!
My body is moving before I realize it, but a large hand clamps down onto my shoulder.
“Let her go.” I turn to Mack, my eyes dropping in acquiescence. Then I lift my cap off, rub my head, and reposition it.
“Yeah,”
Connor makes his way over to us as the Jaguar, which contains my heart, drives away.
Goodbye, darlin’.
“You scratched it.” Connor crosses his arms and stares up at his plane.
We all know he doesn’t care. I think.
“Technically, some Mexican assholes did the scratching.” Mack shrugs.
Connor ignores Mack and reaches out his hand to me. “Good to see you back in one piece.”
One piece?
No, I’m missing a core organ. My heart and maybe even my fucking soul. I keep my thoughts to myself.
“She’s still not safe,” I say, nodding at the disappearing taillights.
“Which is why I have four men protecting her,” Connor says. “And a team outside her building.”
Of course, he does. I want to ask if I can be one of them, but I already know the answer. First, I need to lay low myself; second, I’m not the right person.
Obviously.
“You got her home. Be happy with that,” Connor adds, reading my mind.
“Yeah, but I left behind a few hundred women,” I say.
Isabelle might not forgive me or understand, and I might have lost her because of my choices, but they still need our help.
“Agent Scott is awaiting that information,” Connor says, referring to the man who protected him as an orphan and is now our primary Fed contact.
I tug out my phone. Still no message from Javier.
Returning to Sinaloa isn’t an option, but a big part of me wants to. I feel like I’m letting my father and Chloe down.
I chose Isabelle, and she chose Todd.
Not that I had a right to her; perhaps she’s right never to forgive or trust me.
Perhaps it would never have worked.
“I need a shower and pizza,” Mack says, slapping my back. “You want a place to crash?”
