Chapter 21 #3
Isaiah eyed him warily and swallowed hard.
“Yeah, um, sure. I was hanging out, eating breakfast when Carter came barging in, all pissed and shit. He was going off about me and Leo screwing up some deal, but I don’t know what the hell he was talking about.
I mean, I did their runs like they asked, and last time I saw Leo, he was crashing out hard with this girl. ”
Isa exchanged a look with Locke, who returned a brief head shake. He wasn’t going to fill the kid in, so neither would she.
Isaiah watched them. “What?”
Lock stared him down, ignoring the question. “Tell me about these runs.”
Keeping the makeshift ice pack in place, Isaiah squirmed.
“Um, that was the deal, you know. I take some of Leo’s runs so he can do his thing with Carter, and they leave Paisley alone.
It wasn’t supposed to be forever, just a temporary gig, just so I could put some cash away for a new place, but… ” He looked away.
It wasn’t difficult to fill in the rest. Isa had watched it happen over and over too many times to count. “You tried to get out.”
Isaiah managed a jerky nod then winced. “Didn’t get far. Leo ratted me out. Asshole.” The last was muttered.
“Then what?” Locke asked.
Isaiah swallowed hard. “Carter got ugly. Said if I didn’t do the job, they’d take out Micah and put Paisley to work.” His gaze, ashamed and fearful, skittered to Isa. “I couldn’t let that happen, so I did what I was told, but I was going to find a way out. I swear.”
And if he had tried again, Isa was sure they’d have another body on their hands instead of a teen scared out of his mind and beaten to hell.
Isaiah repositioned the ice pack. “I tried to get Paisley to listen—told her we could go to Micah, and he’d help—but she just got pissed and bailed.” He looked between them. “But you said she was safe, right?”
“She is,” Locke said as Isa nodded.
Relief rounded Isaiah’s shoulders. “Good. And Micah? How mad is he?”
Isa looked at Locke as a heavy beat of silence hung in the air. Isaiah shot unsteadily to his feet, his attention fixed on Locke, his voice cracking with panic. “What happened to Micah?”
A muscle jumped in Locke’s jaw. “He’s in a coma.”
The ice-filled cloth fell to the floor, and Isaiah’s gaze danced from Locke to Isa and back. “What?” Shock left him scrambling. “A coma? I don’t understand.”
Pity twisted in Isa’s chest, and she kept her voice gentle. “He was looking for you.”
“At the Alchemist,” Locke said. “Someone drugged his drink. It messed him up enough that the doctors are keeping him in a coma while they try to find an antidote to whatever it was he took.”
Isaiah started to crumple. Isa caught him and helped him back down onto the stool. The teen’s pupils were blown. “Drugged?” he repeated as if it were a foreign word.
Locke nodded. “Whatever he was given, it allowed him to tear up an entire parking lot and do some serious damage.”
Isaiah slowly shook his head. “That’s… that’s not Micah.”
“We know,” Isa said.
Isaiah stared at Locke as a tear slipped down his cheek. “It was him, wasn’t it? Carter? He went after my brother.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned. “And it’s my fault. All my fault.”
Isa didn’t bother with platitudes. The kid was in no place to hear her. Instead, she dropped to a crouch, grabbed the crumpled cloth, then rose to toss it onto the counter. “The runs Carter was having you do. Was it drugs?”
Isaiah lifted his head from his hands, tears adding to the mess on his face but with a new hardness lurking underneath the grief. “Sometimes, yeah. Not sure what kind. I just got it from a guy and passed it along. Most times, it was packaged, so you couldn’t tell what it was.”
“Pills? Powder?” Locke pressed.
“Mainly pills.”
“Were they his?”
Isaiah’s shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know, but when he was beating the shit out of me, he was ranting about being cut out of his own deal by the leech and how he wasn’t going to put up with that kind of disrespect.”
Locke’s expression hardened, and Isa could guess where his thoughts had gone. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Carter was going to go after Angel. “Do you have any idea where Carter was headed?”
Isaiah shook his head carefully. “Things are kind of a blur. I remember him screaming at me as he pounded on my face.” He swallowed hard. “I have this weird image of the room twisting around me, like walking through those carnival mirrors that mess everything up. Then things just went black.”
Locke studied the young man for a long moment then came to stand in front of him. “Let me see your hands.”
“What?”
“Your hands. Hold them out.”
Isaiah did as told, his hands not quite steady. Locke grabbed his right wrist and pulled out the small blade. “Hold still.”
Isaiah tried to jerk back. “Hey! What—”
“Still,” Locke barked.
Isaiah froze.
Carefully, Locke eased the knife’s point under a bloodied nail like he was cleaning it. When he lifted the blade free, there was material on the edge. A wild light ignited in his icy eyes as he brought it close to his nose and inhaled.
Predatory satisfaction spread over his face as his gaze met hers. “Got it.”
Her earlier vow rose eagerly to meet that feral intensity. “Time to hunt,” she said, her voice as dark as his.