by P Nelson
Flynn held onto Calla for the next ten minutes while paramedics loaded Joe into an ambulance, despite his protests he could get there on his own. And a paramedic completed a cursory check of Calla to make sure she had no serious injuries. A few cuts and bruises. Joe getting shot had forced her to relieve Nick’s near-death experience.
“No. I’m not answering any more questions.” Flynn looked around to the front of the station. The media had been right behind the cops and the ambulance. Their escape from the station without their faces plastered all over the TV and Internet would be impossible. Not that he cared about himself. But the fact Calla had a personal relationship with him would no longer be quiet. “I came to pick up my fiancée. She’s been through a terrible experience I’m sure you’ll agree. Dr Jones needs a shower, food and a warm bed.”
“So you do not understand who may have targeted her and her travelling companion?” The detective for the Vancouver Police Department was no pushover. A Dom in the making if Flynn wanted to label him. “Because I find it very hard to believe the charges of corruption have been laid against you and less than a week later, someone tries to murder your fiancée and there is no connection. Do I look like an idiot?”
“Do you want me to answer the last question? Because I’m sure I’ve already told you I do not understand who might target Dr Jones and Joe Green. It was a misunderstanding.” Flynn gripped Calla tighter when she stared up at him. Flynn had listened as Calla recounted the events, but Flynn had done most of the talking afterwards.
“You should trust the police to do their jobs, Mr Banroch.” The detective asserted.
“I might have, if you hadn’t let a serial killer work his way through a bunch of innocent girls. Or accused one of my friends of being the killer when you could have been catching the real one.” Warming up, Flynn continued. “Or the fact you dumped one of your best detectives because of your stupid fucking narrow minded ideas.”
“Flynn.” Calla called his name, and he took a deep breath.
“You have to forgive my lack of faith in your abilities as you’ve shown no reason for me to trust them.” Flynn unwound his arm from around Calla’s shoulder and held her hand. “Now, if you want to speak to either Dr Jones or Mr Green. Green, you can call my lawyers.”
The cop didn’t bother to stop Flynn as he walked away with Calla in tow. He did not understand where the fuck he was and hoped the driver was still outside with the van.
“It’s not his fault.” Calla’s teeth were chattering.
“This is not a discussion I will have with you right now.” He stopped in front of the doors leading outside and turned to her. Flynn let go of her hand, he reached out to run his fingers through her hair and straighten up her clothing. He carried her pack over one shoulder. “We will walk out there with our heads held high. Answer no questions. The van is waiting to pick us up. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Calla nodded for good measure. Flynn waited while Calla did her best to pull herself together. After a deep breath she stared up at him.
“I love you.” The words surprised them both.
“I love you too,” Calla’s smile more of a frown.
“Let’s get through the next five minutes so I can take proper care of you.” Flynn took her hand in his again. Dogged determination filled him and he pushed the door of the train station open. As predicted a large crowd stood outside waiting for them to emerge. His presence leaked to the press. They shouted the usual questions and demands from the pack Flynn gritted his teeth and held onto Calla’s hand. Not once checking she was all right. She trusted him to get them through the next couple of minutes without her input
The police had done him a favour and left a path to reach the black Mercedes. Cass stood waiting by the sliding door. Another minute and they were inside, buckling up with Cass behind the wheel navigating out of the train station and into the streets of Vancouver.
Flynn picked up a bottle of water and opened it for Calla. She shook her head at him. He drank down half the bottle and set it aside. He spied the box of chocolates and picked it up, opening it to reveal beautifully crafted truffles inside. Flynn held the box out to Calla. She shook her head again; a stubborn set to her chin didn’t bode well for him. He didn’t eat much chocolate, but he made an exception. He chose a coffee cream he popped it into his mouth and waited for the fireworks.
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Calla did her best to breathe. She had a riot of emotions pounding through her body, mixing everything up in her head. The time she needed to sort everything out was not happening.
“Are we going to the hospital to check on Joe?” She didn’t sound like herself. The voice coming out of her lips was tight with tension and in her clinical opinion sounded a bit hysterical. Calla noted the exchanged glances between the driver and Flynn.
“You saw the circus outside the station baby. We can’t go to the hospital. It’ll be the same. You need a shower and some food.”
“I don’t care what I look like.” The statement a shriek.
“I know you don’t care.” Flynn was being too reasonable. Calla must look like a crazy person. “But it’s not safe out there.” He let the rest of the statement drop.
“Someone shot Joe.” Calla said the words out loud. “I saw the red dot on his back, and I yelled. But he still got shot.” She wrapped her arms around her body. Panic hadn’t set in until she saw he was bleeding. Then she couldn’t think. The next thing Calla remembered was Joe trying to calm her down and the security guard pulling her from the train. “Who would do this?” She looked over to Flynn who was studying her.
“I don’t know baby.” Flynn wrapped an arm around her shoulders as best he could with the seat belts in place. “If I did, this never would’ve happened.”
“How did they know where I was?” Calla asked the question.
“It appears the sniper is well informed. There is no way someone could’ve stumbled upon the fact you were on that train.” Flynn sounded like he was trying to work through a problem. “They would’ve been watching for you since you left the estate.”
“Delaney knew I was on that train.” Calla’s voice hardened as another thought bounced through her head. “You’re a real asshole.”
“Twenty for swearing.” Flynn’s automatic response infuriated her even more. Calla shrugged out from his arm. She turned to face him.
“A fishing boat? Prince George? Jasper? Are you fucking kidding me?” Calla remembered she was angry, and took solace in venting her unhappiness.
“You’re right, if the sniper knew when and where you landed on the main land. Why did they wait until you reached Vancouver to take their shot? They had plenty of opportunities.” Flynn was back to thinking over the puzzle again ignoring Calla’s mounting anger.
“Because they like the attention?” Calla wasn’t thinking about the sniper.
“It got everyone’s attention.” Flynn remarked.
“I don’t care about the sniper.” Calla squared her shoulders and glanced out the window. She watched as the van threaded through the traffic of the downtown core towards the Stanley Park causeway.
“You don’t mean that, Calla.” Flynn’s stern voice sounded from beside her.
“I want an apology.” Calla muttered.
“I’m sorry for almost getting you killed.” Flynn’s tone solemn, he reached for her hand.
Calla shook her head at him. “No, Flynn. Who cares about the sniper for a minute? You had me dragged across the province! Boats, trains. I want an apology.”
“It was for your safety.” Flynn’s tone hardened. “And you needed it, since the second you came within one hundred meters of me you had to dodge bullets.”
“You know that’s not true.” Calla tears, already close to the surface bubbled up. “I love you. I would’ve done anything to get back to you. But you couldn’t have told me the night before you left I’d be joining you? It was cruel to let me believe you’d left me behind.” She hiccupped. “And to keep my travel plans
a secret? I thought you trusted me.” The last came out as a whisper.
“Calla. I trust you. Other people, not so much. You will use patience with me.” Flynn wrapped an arm around her.
“Patience was my middle name. For days. I travelled all around the place.” Calla gestured with her arm.
“We’re going to a safe house.” Calla laid her head on Flynn’s shoulder as he spoke. “You and I should find peace and safety there.” Calla was quiet for a few minutes. The lights of the Lions Gate Bridge shining through the windshield every couple of seconds.
“How have you been?” Calla asked. She hadn’t come all this way to complain about the journey. She’s just wanted to make sure Flynn understood future attempts at dragging her all over the province would be met with resistance.
“I’ve missed you.” Flynn pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Not caring Joe’s blood as well as glass covered her.
“I spent so much time worrying about you.” Calla admitted. “When I read the headlines.” She breathed out trying to control her emotions. “I wanted to call and talk to you. But knew it was better to wait. See you in person.” She snuggled into his side. The van exited the bridge, and they headed east rather than west towards Whistler. “I thought we were going to Whistler.”
“We have to assume the house where I’ve been staying is compromised.” Flynn’s tone flat. “We’re headed to a safe house.”
“But not before you change cars.” Cass spoke from the front seat. The driver steered the van into an underground parking lot a minute later, and it took Calla another minute to adjust to the bright lights. “Here.” He handed a set of keys over to Flynn and nodded at a dark coloured Mercedes parked beside the van. “This is as far as I go. You leave and I’ll drive back downtown and around the streets for a half hour.”
“Thank you.” Flynn took the keys and undid his belt. Calla edged across the seat after him.
“Thank you.” She told the man who had twice chauffeured her around. First to the yacht down at Granville Island and now here.
“Of course.” He tipped his head and smiled. “Stay safe, Dr Jones.”
“You too,” she offered back. Flynn held the sliding door open with one hand and her pack in the other. Calla spotted the forgotten box of chocolate and scooped it up with a defiant look. She would go for a run tomorrow to make up for all her bad eating habits over the last few days.
Flynn closed the van door behind her and walked around to the passenger said of the sedan He waited until she was inside before throwing her pack in the back seat and walking around to the driver’s side.
“How many cars do you own Flynn?” Calla enquired in a casual tone popping a chocolate into her mouth. She didn’t care, but the silence bothered her. Without the third person, the atmosphere in the car was oppressive.
“I don’t think I own this one.” Flynn commented starting the engine. The car purred to life.
“Shame, it sounds nice.” Calla finished swallowing her chocolate.
“It’s yours.” Flynn half smiled at her.
“What am I going to do with such a fine automobile?" She teased back.
“Drive it.” Flynn put the car into gear, waved at Cass in the van and they were off.
“Where are we going?” She asked not expecting an answer. Flynn surprised her.
“Back over the bridge.” He steered the luxury automobile through a set of lights and drove onto the Upper Levels Highway. “To the burbs.”
“No one will expect a billionaire to hiding out in Burnaby.” Calla snorted finding humour after a long couple of days.
“Delta. And no.” Flynn had shrugged out of his suit jacket and tie. The sleeves of his fine cut French-cuffed shirt rolled up to his elbows, a set of emerald cuff links in the change compartment. He was the picture of relaxed money. “People do not expect me to flee to Delta.”
“Are we fleeing?” Calla stared out the windshield. It felt like they were escaping.
“We are beating a strategic retreat. I’ll be out again tomorrow showing the world the charges against me are bullshit.” Flynn sighed.
“And what about me? Are you going to hide me away in a basement in Delta waiting for the danger to pass?” Calla heard the frustration in her voice.
“You left the estate. I made the choice to have you with me.” Flynn didn’t sound very convinced by his choices. “What do you want to do?” It sounded like he had dragged the question from the depths of his soul.
“I appreciate you want to give me some control.” Flynn flicked a glance at her and concentrated back on the road. The entrance to the Iron Workers Memorial Bridge ahead. “Covered in blood, glass in my hair and clothes. For a man like you that has to be difficult.” Calla sighed and stared out her passenger side window.
“I love you.” The words flowed easier the more Flynn said them. “So watching you in danger scares the shit out of me. I get I’m the alpha Dom. The cave man redux. But I’m just a man who loves the fuck out of you. Forget about all the psychology bull shit for a minute. No one wants to hear their loved one is in the cross hairs of a sniper.” Tears ran down Calla’s cheeks.
“You are everything. I fought for you when there was nothing to fight for.” She used her sleeve to wipe at her tears. Not caring the hoodie she wore was grimy and streaked more dirt across her face. “I see you larger than life. I’m sorry. It’s just who you are.”
“Baby, I know.” Flynn reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It is me. But you have to understand I’m a man under here.” Calla coughed a few times.
“I do understand,” she replied as the car sped through the night. He brought their clenched hands to his mouth and kissed them.
“The next few days are going to bring a whole new meaning to the word stress.” Flynn let go of her hand to drive. “One thing was clear from my meeting with Alwen today. She’s got nothing and someone has set her up for a big fall. Whether she realises it or not is beside the point. My lawyers and I agree, she won’t be able to hold out much longer without producing something in the line of evidence or the name of the whistle blower.”
“So you think all this will come to a head?” Calla went over the events of the last week. “It doesn’t make any sense. What does Chamberlain have to say? Why bring you up on false charges knowing there will be no trial.”
“I can’t contact Chamberlain and I haven’t had contact from him in almost forty-eight hours.” Calla heard the frustration in Flynn’s voice. “He told me he was following a lead stateside, and no one has heard from him since. Linkin’s people tracked Chamberlain’s false identity across the border, but then he disappears.”
“Oh God.” Calla heart sank. She thought of Chamberlain sitting on an industrial wooden chair in the dungeon at the estate. It felt like it happened a hundred years ago.
“Do you think he’s dead?” The words quiet. She didn’t know why she had escaped the assassin tonight. Maybe Chamberlain hadn’t been so lucky.
“We have to believe he’s as good at his job as he says.” Calla studied Flynn’s profile.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Determined not to cry again today, Calla sniffed. She might not have been sure about Chamberlain or his methods, but she didn’t want him to be dead somewhere.
“He’s alive.” Flynn answered after another minute. “But he’s in so deep somewhere he can’t get word to us or his superiors.”
“It means he’s found something.” Calla guessed, hope blooming her chest.
Chapter Sixteen
Calla waited for one of Linkin’s security men to come around the back of the black Bentley and open the door for her. Cass watched the crowd out front of Calla’s moms’ place with a wary eye. He had nodded in approval this morning when she told him where she needed to go, but didn’t look like it was such a good idea now.
“Courage.” She smiled, and he glanced at her in the rear-view mirror.
“I can park here or wait down the block.” Cass asked her.
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nbsp; “Whatever you prefer.” Calla shrugged her shoulders not understanding about protocol.
“I’ll wait out front, that way if you have to make a hasty retreat we’re good.” Cass nodded his head, but Calla could not respond. Nick opened the door and the sound of the crowd crashed over her. He held his hand out.
“I owed you for saving my life.” Nick grumbled helping her out of the car. He rushed her through the crowd and down the path to her mums’ front door. The reporters and other onlookers all stood at property line. “But we’re even now. I think one of those crazy women pinched my ass.” Calla stared at him astonished. The bark of laughter came as her mom, Sarah opened the door, hockey stick in hand. “It’s better when you smile.” Nick grinned at her.
“Get in the house.” Sarah grumbled. Calla slipped past her mom, Nick followed suit eyeing the hockey stick.
“And I know how to use it!” She shouted at the crowd while waving the stick. The door slammed shut, and the locks snapped into place.
“You should have let me Google him.” Sarah remarked setting her hockey stick by the door. Calla hugged her mom. Shorter by a head, but built like a bulldog, Sarah’s arms came around her and squeezed her back.
“Your mom has been out of her damned head.” Sarah complained letting go of Calla. Not much for affection or worry it surprised Calla to see tears in the older woman’s eyes.
“Yes I have.” Evie hovered at Calla’s elbow, having come in from the kitchen. “When you told us, you would take an extended sabbatical, we thought you were writing a book somewhere. Not going off with billionaire criminals and getting shot at.” Evie smothered Calla in a hug. Calla patted her mom’s back and did her best to comfort her.
“I told you this BDSM stuff was bad business.” Sarah marched over to her leather recliner at the perfect angle to watch the TV and sat down. Calla extracted herself from Evie and took a deep breath.
“First, Flynn is not a criminal. The charges against him false.” She stated with hands on hips.
