Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(40)

Isaiah places his finger over my lips. My heart stutters. It’s a calming touch, yet equally strong. “I know. I’ll fix everything.”

He didn’t call. It’s what I want to say, but for now, I accept Isaiah’s offered hand and rise on trembling legs.

Isaiah partially obstructs Eric’s view of me and crosses his arms over his chest. I let the fingers of my right hand rest on his left shoulder blade. Isaiah peeks at me and tilts his head to let me know that my touch is welcomed. I exhale in relief. I need this connection. I need his strength.

“You want to talk, Eric,” says Isaiah. “Let’s talk.”

In a sloppy posture, Eric leans to the left with his hands in his jeans pockets. “Her boys fingered her yesterday. They said she was involved in the robbery and that she has my money.”

I open my mouth to protest, but a glare from Isaiah instills silence. “Those weren’t her boys and she wasn’t involved.”

“She showed with them.”

“And they abandoned her when the cops came. Rachel and I had to fly through the back alleys to keep from getting caught. She stuck her neck out for me. I owe her a debt.”

That obviously wasn’t news Eric was prepared to hear. He scratches his jaw. “You owe her a debt?”

“Yes,” says Isaiah simply.

A wan smile slants Eric’s lips. “You never owe people.”

Becoming a statue, Isaiah says nothing in return. My fingers relax so that my palm connects with his back. Even through his shirt, my hand soaks in his warmth and energy. I focus on the steady movement of his breathing. In...and out. In...and out. A rhythm that shows no fear.

“They stole five thousand dollars from me,” says Eric. “And I want it back. I don’t care who pays for it or how. No one steals from me, and that message needs to be public.”

“Send a message all you want, but leave Rachel out of it.”

Eric advances on Isaiah. Isaiah never moves as Eric shoves a finger in his face. “She showed with them, and they made me look like a fool! No one makes me look like a fool!”

The finger slowly descends, but Eric stays in Isaiah’s face. Isaiah’s expression never changes: one long, continuous stone-cold glare. “No one looks at you as a fool. Everyone on the street has heard how you put those college boys in the hospital. No one doubts your strength.”

“It’s not enough,” Eric snarls.

“I think tire irons and baseball bats against skin is convincing to everyone.”

Eric backs away from Isaiah and glances at me. “Is she yours?”

Isaiah remains silent.

Eric slides to the side, acting as if he’ll skirt around Isaiah in order to be close to me, but he halts the moment Isaiah speaks. “Go near her and you’ll join those boys in the hospital.”

Dangerous—both of them are. But Isaiah would scare me more if he wasn’t protecting me. My eyes dart between them. The two males before me are barely civilized animals fighting for dominance and control.

Eric regards Isaiah. “She showed with them so people think she was involved. If I don’t act on her then people will believe that I have a weakness. She won’t go unpunished. If she gives me my money, I’ll wipe her slate clean. My decision is made. Short of killing me, Isaiah, you aren’t changing my mind.”

“If she doesn’t pay?” asks Isaiah.

Eric flashes a smile full of teeth. “She is pretty.”

I swallow a dry heave and slap a hand over my mouth.

A muscle in Isaiah’s jaw tics. “I’ll take on her debt.”





Chapter 23

Isaiah

MY STOMACH BOTTOMS OUT WITH the last words I said: I’ll take on her debt. Five thousand dollars or Eric will own me for life. Hell, with those words, he owns me now.

I risk breaking eye contact with Eric for a brief second to observe my surroundings. His threat to me earlier, that I either kill him or walk away, indicated he wasn’t alone. Sure enough, back in the main parking lot, two of his most trusted guards watch.

Eric laughs, yet I find nothing funny. “Isn’t this a strange turn of events. Isaiah Walker, the guy who owes nobody nothing, takes on a debt for a girl.”

“Isaiah?”

I close my eyes at the sound of my name from Rachel’s mouth. She wants reassurance, and I can’t console her. Not with Eric inspecting my every movement. He already knows I care about Rachel, and that’s bad for both of us. She just became a liability.

I try to repress any thoughts of Rachel: her beauty, her kindness, how frightened she was when I found her. Emotions are evil. Ice water needs to flow in my veins. “No girl should face your wrath.”

“Yeah,” Eric says in mock disbelief. “You’re selling yourself to me so I won’t hit a girl. Sell your shit someplace else.”

This situation hovers between dangerous and deadly. Eric will use her against me if he realizes Rachel’s more than someone I owe. He’ll keep me as a dog on a chain, wielding her as a weapon. I can’t do that to myself. Dammit. I can’t do that to her. Because, God help us both, I do care. “She means nothing. I owe her a debt for saving me, and like you said yourself, I don’t owe debts.”

Her hand drops from my back and I hear her sharp intake of air. Eric’s observant eyes catch her reaction, and he’s discovered a new person to toy with. “So she was a f*ck.”