Chapter 37 : Half Truths

“I’m a cop, Isla,” he said simply. “DEA,” he lied, deciding he would give her only truths he deemed absolutely necessary. He couldn’t tell her everything when he wasn’t even yet sure who had attacked them. Too risky.

Isla’s jaw dropped, her shock visible on her face. Of all the wild explanations she had anticipated, this was the wildest.

He continued, droning on in a monotone and staring at a spot on the floor. “Atlanta PD is my base, but I was sent undercover eight months ago. Eight long months ago. My time paid off,” he said smiling sadly. “Three months ago, I busted the cocaine cartel. Called in time and place and the PD swarm in, guns blazing and the operation was shut down.”

He grimaced, feeling new pain points pop up. “There was a shootout, but it was brief; Atlanta PD came prepared. The smart ones surrendered and scores of arrests were made. Unfortunately for me, someone, I’m not sure who, put two and two together and my cover was blown. It was discovered a bounty had been placed on my head by the Drug Lord in cell, and my chief thought it would be wise for me to lay low in a different city till all his boys were picked up and the heat blew over. Sounded like a good idea, arrangements were made and here I am.” He braved a look into her eyes, tried to joke, "I even had to shave my sweet afro to further diminish the chances of them recognizing me."

But Isla wasn't smiling.

She stared at him, mind racing. A lot of things were starting to fall into place. The secretiveness, the half-answers when questions about personal information came up, and the phone calls that were never answered in her presence. Isla felt like a fool. She had bared her soul to this man, leaving none of the gory details out, and what was her reward? Lies and deceit. Eyes quickly filling up with tears, she looked at him imploringly. “Why?” she asked, barely audible. “Why did you lie to me, George?”

George couldn’t stand to look into those eyes; he felt like a bottom feeder; the worst of the worst. What he had told her was not even completely the truth. He wondered how she would feel if she found out what he had told her was her brother’s story, simply substituting a few facts for others and omitting others. He felt like he was sinking, and the irony was, that it was in a hole he had dug with his own hands.

He forced his lips to move; silence was not golden in scenarios such as this. “Isla, I had no choice; it’s the job,” he implored, moving to her and taking her hands in his, grateful when she did not pull away. “In the field one bad decision, just one wrong move, WILL end your life. Every choice decided upon, every conversation made, can be your last.”

“Look at me, love,” he Implored, cradling her face. “Falling in love was never part of the plan. I never thought I would find you. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Forgive me.”

Isla could not hold the tears back. He loved her and she believed him. She had so many questions, so many dark spots that needed clarifications, so many things she would love to be assured of. There was one thing she had to get out of the way first. “Who were those guys, George? Were they after you or me?”

George wondered if the attack had been targeted at him; he had made enough enemies over the years to warrant it. His stomach dropped. He hated to think that he may have brought that sort of trouble into Isla’s life. An even scarier thought entered his mind as he held Isla, stroking her hair. What if the men had been after Isla?

***

George drove the Ferrari slowly in no hurry to complete the trip. His need to go to the mall to get supplies was a front; what he really needed was time to think. Isla protested his leaving her alone, and considering what had happened just yesterday evening, he could hardly blame her. He knew that the assailants wouldn’t return anytime soon considering typical criminal behavior. However, strictly for her benefit, he called in a favor with a friend who was a detective with the Dallas PD who in turn put a call across to the Cedar Hill City PD Chief. At the moment, there was a squad car parked across the road from Isla’s building. When she wouldn’t let him go alone, he held her hand and took her to the window, pointing out the squad car. “In that car are two Cedar Hill’s finest, deployed with strict instructions to keep their eyes open and their guns drawn. All for your safety.” He finished with a flourish, aiming to lighten up the situation. Only then had she let him go, pleading with him not to stay out too long.

Now, as George drove the near-empty road, he was assaulted by doubts and what-ifs, all jostling for supremacy in his already strained mind. He popped two more aspirins, his headache returning with a vengeance. He made a mental note to get himself checked for a possible concussion. He was almost certain he was fine, but he had learned the hard way that you could never be too careful with these things, having almost lost his life in the past as a result of internal bleeding. He had refused medical checkup after a sting operation that had turned violent. An error he almost didn’t live to regret.

Forcing his mind back on the situation, he started to coordinate his thoughts, arranging each problem in order of importance.

One, Isla.

He had meant every word when he had told her he loved her. She was his one bright spot and he wasn’t going to lose her. Not if he could help it. His chest tightened as he remembered he had told her yet another lie, even more creative this time. He feared to think what her reaction would be when he came clean. He sighed, moving on.

Second, his and her safety. It was imperative that he found out who those men were after, and that he found out soon. Who would want to hurt her so badly that they would hire professionals? Was it a coincidence that this happened shortly after her stepmother’s visit? He had rolled with Richard’s men for quite some time, being a member of the inner circle, and he was almost certain the men he had exchanged blows with a few hours ago weren’t them. These ones were sloppier. He rubbed the back of his neck, a new habit he was developing after recent events.

He would call Chris and fill him in. Chris was good at getting answers quickly. As he picked up his phone to dial Chris, he felt rather than see a car, truck maybe, smash into him. Pain spread across his side as he let go of the wheel, losing control of the car.