In a Bad Way

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In a Bad Way Page 9

by Karin Tabke


  “He’s not going to have much of a choice.” Flynn pulled her into his arms. He didn’t want the day with her to end. “What plans do you have for the rest of the day?”

  Pink shrugged, but smiled mischievously. “I know what I’d like to do, but I think my girl parts need a little rest.”

  Impulsively, Flynn said, “I’ve been jonesing for some board time. Want to take a ride over to Half Moon Bay with me for the day?”

  “You surf?”

  “I try to.”

  She smiled and said, “I have the perfect bikini.”

  His lips drew tight. “I bet you do. It’s going to be cold over there. Bring it, though, and you can dance for me.”

  “Depends on how you behave.”

  “I can’t make any promises. We’ll need to stop by my place on the way out.”

  She smiled brightly, stood on her toes and grabbed his face, and brought his mouth down to hers. She kissed him hard and quick. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  He stood there rooted to the floor, his lips throbbing. Damn it.

  “Pack enough for overnight,” he called after her. He was going off the deep end, headfirst.

  She poked her head back around the kitchen doorway. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you, Slick.”

  He grinned and curbed the impulse to snatch her up into his arms and maul her. “You know you want to.”

  “That’s beside the point!” She disappeared.

  Twenty minutes later she emerged freshly showered, with a pink canvas duffle bag, dressed in a short little denim skirt, white, tit-hugging, midriff-baring T-shirt that, despite the fact that she was wearing a bra, accentuated more than it covered. The cork wedge shoes she wore brought her up to his chin. The only makeup she wore was mascara and pink lip gloss. He was spellbound.

  She snapped her fingers under his nose. “Earth to Slick.”

  Shaking his head, Flynn groaned and asked, “Could you change into a burlap sack, please?”

  Throwing her head back, she laughed and slapped him good-naturedly on the chest. “This is all for you, big guy. I want your eyes on me and only me.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. “Trust me, you could be wearing that sack and you’d have my undivided attention.”

  Still smiling, she leaned into him and pursed her pouty lips. “Then you’d better be on your toes and make sure someone doesn’t sweep me off my feet on your watch.”

  His face tightened. “I don’t share.”

  She kissed his nose. “Neither do I.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Izzy sat quietly in the back of the black suburban next to Flynn. He’d called an Uber and it whisked them from the low-rent district of Oakland into the exclusive Piedmont hills. She’d grown up here, and as they wound their way up Rte.13, her stomach began to feel a little queasy.

  “I thought you said you lived off your salary?” she asked him. Piedmont was not for paupers or government workers.

  “I do, but I bought a house first.”

  The SUV pulled up before a 1920s classic three-story house on an old tree-lined street. As they walked up the sidewalk, she said, “I grew up two streets down on Bellevue.”

  “What happened?”

  “You know I was kicked out.”

  “I meant what happened after that?”

  “Oh, you mean why did I grow up in a five-million-dollar house and turn out to be a cocktail waitress and retired stripper?”

  As he inserted the key into the door, he turned the lock and opened it. He held out his arm for her to enter before him. Loudly exhaling, she did. This was a mistake. She should have let him walk this morning. Oh, heck she should have kicked him out last night before—

  “Having second thoughts?”

  She’d been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t realized her internal dialogue was playing out on her face. Her mother had always told her she could never hide what she was thinking or feeling. “Yes.” Why lie? “Look, I really like you.” An understatement. “I like being with you.” Bigger understatement. “I like everything about you.” Total truth. “Except the fact that you can’t get past what I do for a living.” Very true and a deal breaker for a man like Special Agent Flynn A. Ryker.

  “I like you, too. A lot.”

  He took her bag and set it down on the black, polished marble. The place was amazing. Black and white with just a hint of gray. But there was no warmth. “This place reminds me of a mausoleum.”

  “Well, thanks.” He slid his hands into his back trouser pockets and for a moment seemed as uncomfortable as she was. “Believe it or not, this used to be a federal safe house, then a crash pad for a bunch of us single guys working task forces. It was a turnstile front door. Then one day, there was just me. Uncle Sam was making deep budget cuts, and they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I happen to like the clean, no-nonsense lines.”

  “It’s emotionless. Like it’s trying to hide what’s beneath.” She quirked a brow. “Kind of like the guy who owns it.”

  “You’ve known me less than twenty-four hours and you have me figured out?”

  “Yup.” She took a few steps through the wide circular foyer, looking up and down and all around. It was beautiful, but dead to her. “A few living things, like a plant, and a little color to jazz the place up would be nice,” she said, walking down the wide entryway to the back of the house, which boasted a long wall of French doors leading to a verdant backyard.

  “Let me guess, some pink flowers or pots?”

  “Maybe a few.”

  “I’ve never been much of a fan of pink until last night.”

  He walked with her to the windows and to the right was a huge black-and-white marble five-star kitchen.

  “Wow.”

  “I don’t use it often.”

  She turned around and looked up at him to find him staring quietly at her. “What?”

  His brows furrowed for a quick second before they smoothed out. “I’m having a hard time with the Surf’s Up part of you.”

  Not good enough for a Ryker? Would she be good enough if she told him she had graduated summa cum laude from Cal last year and had been accepted to Stanford Law School? Why couldn’t he accept her for who she was, not what she’d done? “Get over it. It’s not like you have to take me home to meet the fam.” She moved into his space. Without touching him, she leaned into him and said softly. “I give us two weeks tops. You’re a big boy; you can hang with my job that long, can’t you?”

  His eyes narrowed as his hands slid down her arms. “Yeah, I suppose I can.”

  “Good, now pack your big boy bag and let’s get this show on the road.”

  “C’mon upstairs while I put a bag together.”

  “I’ll stay down here.” She didn’t want to familiarize herself with anything as personal as his bedroom. It was going to be hard enough, when the time came, not to remember every second of every minute they spent together; she didn’t want to see his bed and think of him in it with another woman when she was long gone.

  “I won’t bite.”

  Melancholy for what would come to be the best few weeks of her life began to set in before it had barely begun. “I kind of hoped you did.”

  He laughed and moved past her. “I said I won’t, not that I don’t.”

  Ten minutes later he was back down and she bit her bottom lip and shook her head. He’d changed into a pair of worn, blue jeans, shocking blue polo shirt that matched his eyes perfectly, and casual leather and canvas shoes. He had a distressed brown leather duffle bag slung over his shoulder and Maui Jims riding the top of his forehead.

  “Let’s go.” He led her through the house to the garage door. When he turned the light on, she whistled. Not one but three cars and two motorcycles shone brightly beneath the fluorescent lights. They were immaculate. A black Denali SUV, a white Lexus sedan, and a really sexy vintage Corvette. “What year is that?” she asked, pointing to the cherry bomb red convertible.

  “Sixty-f
our Stingray.” He opened the passenger door. “We can take it if you want.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “Where’s your surfboard going to go?”

  He grinned as he took her bag and tossed it into the small backseat along with his, and then helped her in. “That was just a ploy to get you to spend the day with me.”

  “So you don’t surf?”

  “I do, just not today.”

  He closed the door, then walked over to an immaculate workbench and withdrew a set of keys from a hidden drawer. He slid in the driver’s seat, put the key in the ignition, and turned it. The car rumbled to life beneath her.

  She started and he grinned a bright Hollywood smile. Magically, the garage door opened, he expertly shifted and maneuvered the powerful car out of the tight confines, and before she knew it, they were roaring across the San Mateo Bridge. For once Izzy put her worries and woes of finding Alex aside. She was doing all she could and now she had help.

  Today Izzy would focus on herself. It was a beautiful clear sunny day and she was sitting next to the sexiest man on the planet, who thought she was pretty hot herself. Today, life was good. She raised her hands like she would on a roller coaster and laughed out loud shouting her happiness at the top of her lungs. Flynn smiled and laughed at her antics. When she was done acting crazy, he grasped her left hand and placed it on the gearshift, where he rested his hand on top of hers.

  Warmth infused her skin where he touched. Swallowing hard, she was glad she was wearing sunglasses. He might see the schoolgirl crush look in her eyes and dump her over the bridge into the bay. Geez, she was such a sucker for a hot guy. Like mother, like daughter.

  But what a guy.

  They were riding fast and topless. It was the most exhilarating ride of her life. Flynn handled the high-performance vehicle beautifully and even at the high speeds they drove, she had complete confidence in his driving skills. It was a beautiful March afternoon. Clear skies and sunny. It would be cooler once they came down through the foothills to the ocean. Hopefully there would be no lingering fog. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind and she decided she didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter. Being with him was electrifying. This was a rare “do nothing” day for her. Between school, her research assistant job, and working at Surf’s Up, she barely had time to sleep, much less take a sorely-needed day off. Professor Gamble was gone on his annual lecture circuit until the end of June. That ate at her income, and despite the club taking the majority of her tip money, she made a decent wage there. She’d work more than the three nights she was regularly scheduled, but the club was only open four nights a week and she had to fight for each shift.

  As they slowed at the end of Rte. 92 coming into the small ocean town of Half Moon Bay, named for its half-moon-shaped bay, Izzy smoothed her bangs from her face and smiled at Flynn. “That was amazing.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the ride.”

  “I really did. You drive like a pro.”

  “I am. Lots of pursuit training and hands-on experience over the years.”

  “I keep forgetting you’re a cop.” She leaned over and patted his chest down. “Are you packing heat?”

  He smiled and pulled her hand over into his lap. His erection was on the rise. “Yeah, I’m packing some heat.”

  When Flynn pulled over into a small shopping center parking lot and put the car in Park, laughing Izzy unhooked her seatbelt, leaned over and looped her arms around his neck, feeling as carefree as a little girl. “I love how you’re always ready for some game.” She kissed him. A big, fat, juicy kiss. When she pulled away, he pulled her back to him.

  “I like kissing you.”

  She swallowed and nodded, suddenly feeling very hot and nervous. “I like kissing you, too.”

  “How many men have you kissed?”

  “A few.”

  “How many?”

  “Including you, three.”

  “Liar.”

  “It’s true! The other two didn’t get any further than first base, either.”

  He laughed. “First base?”

  “Yeah, making out. How many women have you kissed?”

  “Too many to count.”

  “Figures.”

  “But none the way I kiss you.”

  “How do you kiss me?”

  “Like I mean it.” He gave her a quick kiss and said, “Put your seatbelt back on. I know the perfect make-out place.”

  She scowled doing as he said. “I don’t want to go there if you’ve made out with someone else there.”

  Grabbing her hand, he put his over hers on the gearshift again and put the car into gear. “You’ll be the first.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They drove up Highway 1 to the Beach House Hotel. Flynn pulled in front of the sprawling building, put the car in park and pocketed the keys, then hopped out. He was around to her side of the car and opening her door before she could reach for the handle. Pulling her from the low-slung car, Flynn reached behind her, and grabbed their bags. He handed them off to the attendant as he tossed him the keys and, with her on his arm, strode into the hotel like he owned the place. The open-air concept lovely in its subtle opulence.

  In minutes they were shown to a beach-view suite. The bellhop brought in their bags and opened the slider to the terrace as he explained the many amenities the establishment had to offer. The cool ocean air blew the translucent gauzy curtains into the room. Izzy stepped out, inhaling the fresh cleanness of the salt-tinged air. It was a spectacular view. Blue ocean as far as the eye could see, lazy waves crashing against the white sand beach below.

  She felt Flynn’s presence behind her. He pulled her back into his arms and she stood with her back to him and together they stared at the sparkly blue Pacific. The way the sun hit the tips of the waves as they built reminded her of the fireflies back east. There had been many Chastain family trips back east. As the nanny, Izzy’s mom was always required to accompany the family. Mrs. Chastain had allowed Izzy to tag along because she and Alex were like two peas in a pod growing up. Inseparable up to the very last minute.

  Izzy shook her head. Mrs. Chastain treated her mother like a beast of burden on those trips. But momma never minded. Now Izzy knew why. She was willing to endure the humiliation to be close to the man she loved until her dying breath.

  Izzy knew she should be happy right here in this minute, but sadness moved through her. In so many ways, she felt like she was following in her mother’s footsteps. Madly attracted to a powerful man from a distinguished family, who gladly took what she was offering. Then what? When he was done, would Flynn cast her aside, like her father had her mother? That’s exactly what would happen, but Izzy was smarter than her mother. She knew the score up front. This amazing man would never commit to a woman who stripped, past, present or future. Regardless of her motives. She had to be okay with that. She was okay with it because she was fine with the bikini clad cocktail server role. It was no big deal really. Guys could look all they wanted. But she drew the line at touching. The stripping part? The only reason she agreed to do it was to get information on Alex, but the moment she saw Flynn, her motives switched from grudging acceptance straight into fully engaged. She wanted to seduce Flynn. For herself, not Andre or her sister.

  It was also, she supposed, her subconscious way of flipping her father off. Yeah it was fucked-up stuff, but there it was.

  “You like?” he asked.

  How could she not? “It’s beautiful.”

  “One of my favorite views.”

  “You’ve been here before?” Ugh, why did she sound like a jealous girlfriend?

  “Several times.”

  She stiffened. Is this where he brought all of his conquests? No wonder he walked with such authority through the place.

  He laughed and turned her around. “Weddings, Pink. And I always went stag.”

  Feeling ridiculous, she let out a long breath and looked up at him for a serious moment. “I need to get somet
hing off my chest.”

  He wagged his brows and shot back, “You can get your chest off on me any time.”

  While she loved their back-and-forth repartee, she was trying to be serious for a minute. He didn’t understand that this wasn’t easy for her and he needed to. Being with him like this, when she’d never even been on a date before. “Seriously, Flynn, I’m confused and a little afraid.”

  “I think I’ve been pretty straightforward, Pink. You have absolutely no reason to be afraid of me.” He pulled her close and inhaled the scent of her. “I would never hurt you.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  She pushed out of his embrace and turned to face the less scary waves. “I’ve known you less than twenty-four hours and I’ve done more with you than I have with any man in my life, probably more than I ever will. After the crazy sex, you cooked breakfast for me, bought me a phone, then we decided to become fuck buddies. I go to your house, and next thing I know, we’re here in a very expensive hotel suite on the beach to have sex.” She shrugged and turned around to find his blue eyes intently watching her. “It’s too much, too fast. I feel like it’s blowing me off course.”

  “Do you want me to take you home?”

  Not on your life. Though if she were as smart as she thought she was, she should be running back over the foothills. “Yes—no! I don’t know! I just…I feel like my plans are taking a backseat to my lust-induced infatuation with you and it scares me. Because what if I get so caught up in you I lose sight of what I need to do?”

  “What do you need to do?”

  “Find my sister. Survive.”

  “There’s nothing you personally can do about your sister until you go back to work. I’ve got calls out and my people are gathering information. As soon as I have something concrete, I can help you. As far as surviving, you’re doing that right now, here with me. Take this time to recharge your batteries.”

  She put her hand on her hip and cocked a knee. “You call what we do recharging? I’ll need a week to recuperate if tonight is anything like last night!”

 

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