Their roles had now been reversed—she’d beenwatching over him, like he’d watched over her for most of her life.
How would his presence be received?
Would the men and women of Alliez Security be happy to see him, or would they want nothing to do with him?
Had they known she’d kept contact with him? Isaac believed that they did. Cass wasn’t the type to keep things to herself. His last contact with Alliez, when the shit had hit the fan, had been semi-positive. They’d all gotten out of there, a little battered, but still alive, and that was all that mattered.
Now he was back, and he didn’t know his place. His mind was still drifting to San Carlion, the small town in Guatemala where, for a brief few hours, he’d experienced a sense of meaning and belonging. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time, and it meant more than it should. He’d left a couple of days after his encounter with Marie. He’d been feeling like he was being watched, and the last time he’d ignored that feeling, he’d almost lost his life in the wilds of Alaska. It was how he’d ended up in San Carlion. He wasn’t taking the chance that that could happen another time.
There was also the added presence of Alfredo Vargas. The man may have not recognized Isaac from his time with the Ramirez Cartel, but if he’d stayed,there'd have been a chance that his identity could’ve been uncovered.
It was a risk he couldn’t take. So even though he’d wanted to stay, he hadn’t.
He'd spent the last few months eking out an existence in one town after another in South America while waiting for the final word that it was safe for him to return to the States.
And here he was, still as adrift as he’d been four months ago. Wanting someone who didn’t want him.
Why hadn’t time apart pushed her out of his mind?
He didn’t understand why her goodbye had affected him so much. Why it had seemed so final. Hope had sparkled to life with his encounter with the hard-working doctor. But also hope was dangerous. It gave him the belief that he deserved good things when, after everything he’d done during his time as part of the cartel, he deserved nothing but bad things.
“Are you going to stand out here all afternoon or are you going to come in?”
Isaac turned around and his gaze connected with the bright green one of Dylan “Irish” O’Reilly. Cass’s husband and the man who’d almost lost his life at the hands of Cass’s uncle, Isaac’s former cartel boss. “Still debating that,” he returned.
Irish nodded as if he understood Isaac’s dilemma. “You know Cass will be happy to see you.”
“I know. I also owe her a big thanks for what she did for the people of San Carlion. I can’t believe how much she was able to achieve in such a short time.” Although he shouldn’t have been surprised. Cass had connections and the ability to make people bend to her will with a few well-crafted sentences.
“My wife is nothing but amazing,” Irish said, his chest puffing out in pride. “But you know she’s not going to want or need your thanks. She did it because she doesn’t like to see anyone suffering.”
“I know.”
Irish turned serious. “No one blames you for what you had to do. Hell, some of those women in my backyard wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you and the information you gave us.”
“I know that, too.” And he did. Before he’d disappeared to the wilds of Alaska and the jungles of Guatemala, he’d had many visitors in his hospital room after he woke from his coma. Most of them being the people congregating at Irish and Cass’s house.
“Take the time you need. But don’t leave, okay?”
Isaac sighed. The first step was always the hardest, and he wanted to start living his life now that he was no longer on anyone’s radar, at least that’s what the powers that be in the DEA assured him was true.
Of course, Alfredo Vargas had seen him, but if he saw Isaac now he wouldn’t recognize him. Gone was the scraggly beard and unkempt hair. Like all the other personas he’d shed, losing Samuel Rodrigo wasn’t too much of a hardship.
Now he had the chance to be himself. Find his place back in society. What he was going to do, he didn’t know, but he’d find something.
He was aware that Irish hadn’t returned to his backyard, it was as though he knew that Isaac had made his decision but needed a few more seconds to convince himself it was the right thing to do. “Please tell me you don’t have any Mexican beers.”
Irish laughed. “Nah, we’ve got none of those. Got some good Guiness if you want one.”
“We’ll see,” he smirked, and Irish’s laughter got louder. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
A couple of hours later,Isaac sat on the chair he’d pulled to a corner of the garden. It was good to be around everyone, but it was noisy. Not to mention, he’d spent so much of the last year by himself thatbeing amongst a large, boisterous group was going to take some time to get used to.
“Mind if I join you?” Kyle “Ox” Matthews asked, chair in hand.
“Sure.” He wasn’t surprised Ox had come up to him, he’d been aware he’d been watching him. “I expected you to come chat earlier.”
That got a chuckle out of Ox. “Letting you settle in, man. It’s been a while.”
