by Karin Tabke
Jaw tight, hand on her elbow, Flynn steered her across the street to his SUV. Taking her bag, he helped her in, then tossed the bag into the backseat on his way around to the driver’s door. As he got into his seat, he turned the key and she was sure that if it wasn’t raining so hard, he’d have peeled out.
“Do you know what I found in the grass, next to where I left the intruder?” Flynn asked, his voice clipped
“His wallet?” she joked.
“A syringe. Mostly likely filled with enough tranquilizer to knock you out for several hours.”
She gasped.
“I told you, you have a target on your back, Isa. Do you believe me now?”
As she realized the thing the bad guy wanted to steal was her, she started shaking. “Yes,” she said, then looked up at him. “But why?”
“I don’t know. What do you have that makes you worth kidnapping?”
“I don’t know! I keep to myself.”
“Could it be that Andre or Boris is on to you?”
“No. Boris rarely comes in. Other than the one time I served him and his cronies drinks in his office, we haven’t been in the same breathing space. And Andre, he looks out for us. I’ve never given him any reason to want to hurt me.”
“Except not delivering the video and asking questions about Jasmyn, a stripper who disappeared from the club.”
She shook her head vehemently. “By your description it wasn’t Andre. I promised him a new video if my phone didn’t turn up.”
“You also told him you’d only turn it over to Boris. Doesn’t mean he didn’t hire out his dirty work. Maybe Andre has some side action of his own.”
“I don’t see it, but—” She choked back a sob. “I guess anything is possible.”
“You’re damn right it is.”
For the next few minutes they drove in silence, until she realized where they were headed. Piedmont. “There’s a little motel right off Route Thirteen. It’s called the Hideaway, I think. Please take me there,” she said calmly.
“That place is infested with prostitutes and dealers.”
“It’s all I can afford.” She couldn’t even handle that. She’d just have to work double shifts at the club to pay for it.
“I’ll take you to the Claremont.”
“I can’t afford that!”
“I can.”
“No, Flynn, I don’t accept.”
“It’s either the Claremont or my place.”
“I—why do you get to decide where I stay?”
“Because I know what’s best for you right now.”
Fifteen minutes later as they pulled into his garage and the heavy door came down behind them, Izzy panicked. If she went in there willingly, she was giving herself permission to let down every single wall she had constructed around herself. “I can’t go in there.” Not yet.
Flynn opened his door and said, “Suit yourself.” Slamming it, he proceeded to take her bag out of the backseat and go into the house, but not before turning the garage lights off.
Chapter Twenty-four
Izzy woke to a symphony of birds happily welcoming in the new day. She hadn’t heard birds singing in the morning like this since… She popped up in the bed, blinking back the streams of sunshine blazing through the open French doors that led to a balcony. This wasn’t her room.
Far from it. This one sported twelve-foot ceilings, six-inch carved white wood molding, steel gray walls, sleek dark brown furniture, and a lovely crystal chandelier. The rich oak hardwood floor was mostly covered in a thick, fluffy, white area rug that matched the wispy white of the billowing curtains. Although partial to quirky, colorful décor, Izzy had to admit that the traditional-contemporary mix worked; it had serenity to it. Stretching, she luxuriated beneath the smooth, soft sheets that she was sure cost more than her entire bedroom set.
If she didn’t instinctively know where she was, Izzy would have known Flynn was connected to this space. His scent lingered on the linens. Closing her eyes, she brought them to her nose and inhaled. Crisp and clean like the ocean.
As she imagined the hard warmth of Flynn’s body against hers, the night came flooding back to her. The intruder. The syringe, and Flynn’s injury. She shivered hard. To say she had been stunned by what had almost happened to her was a major understatement. Tightening the sheets around her, Izzy fought the urge to hide under them as the trauma of what would have happened to her had Flynn not come to her rescue sank in. He’d saved her from something horrific. So horrific she would have prayed for death.
Glancing at the closed door, she remembered their argument about coming here. He’d taken her from the home she no longer felt safe in, insisting they go to his home. She’d refused at first. Her reasons escaped her at the moment. Pride probably. It had a habit of getting in the way of her better judgment when it came to the Special Agent. Her pride aside, she knew she would be safe here. She’d fallen asleep in the car, in the garage.
Then there was the fear. The fear of uncertainty. The fear of rejection. The fear that she wasn’t brave enough to give Flynn her best shot because she was afraid of failure. It was all too much, too fast. Now here she was, in his house, in his guest room bed. Her nerves were shot. She wasn’t quite ready to face Flynn in his home where anything could happen.
Giving herself a few minutes to take it all in, Izzy looked around some more.
Seeing the balcony, she knew she was at least on the second floor. Warmth infused her as she imagined Flynn gathering her up in his arms and carrying her from the garage, up the winding stairway, and settling her here. She must have been sound asleep, because she didn’t remember anything after closing her eyes and resting her head back in the SUV after the lights went out.
The only thing missing from her person was her shoes. They were neatly placed beside her overnight bag on the floor by the open French doors. Her purse was sitting on the nightstand next to a full bottle of water.
Settling back into the mass of pillows, Izzy contemplated Flynn. She had her work cut out for her. His actions were contradictory and confusing. His signals mixed. The emotional roller coaster she found herself on careened along its own turbulent course. Hanging on could kill her, but so could jumping off. Her plan of action was to remain cool, aloof, give him just little pieces of herself at a time. It would be a testament to her willpower if she could maintain the “steady as she goes” course.
How would Flynn be this morning? Feeling like he had made a mistake bringing her here? Had the trauma of last night pushed her here too fast?
Oh for crying out loud. Stop with all the back-and-forth, Izzy. Go downstairs and see what’s up.
Flinging the covers off, her she heard the chirp of her cell phone. She had a message.
Digging in her purse for the phone, she grabbed it and pulled it out. Two messages. One from Charlie: Must. Have. Update. Now.
Izzy smiled and texted him back: You don’t even want to know. Just don’t go back to the house. I’ll call later. I’m ok and so is Flynn. Xoxox
The second one was from Lover Boy, aka her handler, Maddox. Izzy smirked at the name he had assigned himself.
“That will ensure that when I boss you around like an overprotective boyfriend, if someone takes a look at the texts, it’ll appear normal caveman behavior when in fact, it’s instructions,” he had told her as he programmed in his number.
Flynn had stood silently by, not saying a word, but Izzy saw the proverbial steam coming out of his ears. Hesitating, she thought about that. It was obvious Flynn didn’t like the fact that Maddox acted comfortable around her, and wasn’t threatened by Flynn. If Flynn didn’t care for her in the relationship way, why act all possessive? Trying to understand Flynn was an exercise in futility. She had never met a more complex human being than Flynn Atticus Ryker.
Confirm you did not inflict grave bodily harm upon Special Agent Ryker’s person. Also confirm my CI is ok.
Confirming I did not inflict grave bodily harm upon Special Agent Ryker (ju
st a big lump on his head which actually served to diminish his gigantic ego). Your CI is fine. TY 4 asking.
As Izzy tossed the phone back into her bag she wondered why Maddox would text her. All he had to do was ask Flynn how he was. Maybe he didn’t want to rock the boat.
Her phone chirped that she had a new message.
Charlie: O.M.GAWD! Plz tell me you are safe and sound with Special Agent Stud?
Xoxox I am.
Le sigh
Maddox: 10-4 stand by later this afternoon for an update. Delete this thread.
Yes, sir!
Setting the phone on the nightstand Izzy smiled. The texts from Maddox and Charlie warmed her heart. They cared about her. She liked being cared about. Why couldn’t Flynn put aside his issues and relax around her? As complex and frustrating as Flynn was, he was the one who was there last night. Had he not been, there was a good chance she would not be alive this morning. Izzy owed him her life. She owed him a little patience, too.
Her feelings for Flynn aside, it was past time to call a truce. Accept that while he had his issues with her, none of which she cared for, she could live with them. That was the easy part. The hard part was getting a grip of her feelings for him. Flynn was one of a kind, he’d gone where no man had gone: straight into her heart.
He was a magnet to her steel. Law of attraction personified. She could kick herself for letting him get under her skin. Life was so much simpler with no complications.
On that note, Izzy stretched again, then checked out the bathroom, did her thing, and washed up. Feeling slightly more prepared to face the storm that was sure to be brewing somewhere in the house, she went in search of Grumpy Man.
She found him in the solarium off the kitchen. His back to her, he was barefoot, dressed in a white T-shirt and gray sweats. Her fingers twitched, wanting to run across the wide expanse of his shoulders. Silently, she walked across the tile floor to him.
“There’s coffee on the sideboard, and eggs and bacon on the counter,” he said, looking up at her as she moved around the small table he was seated at. He closed his laptop and looked straight at her.
Suddenly she was nervous. Her tummy did a little flip-flop. She didn’t stand a chance. Morning stubble darkened his face, and his dark hair, usually neatly styled, was mussed. The planes and valleys of his muscles were clearly defined beneath the T-shirt. Those cobalt blue eyes of his burned bright. Warmth pooled low in her belly. She suspected morning sex with him would be phenomenal.
Biting her bottom lip, Izzy tried to steer her thoughts away from his body and how compatible it was with hers. “I—ah…” she stuttered. Glancing at the coffeepot on the buffet, she hurried to pour herself a cup. After she added the cream and stirred, she lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. “Mmm, Jamaican Blue Mountain. My favorite.”
Taking another sip, Izzy picked a piece of bacon off the plate on the counter and moved to the table and took the chair across from Flynn, who quietly watched her. Feeling uncomfortable under his silent regard, she set the cup down and nibbled the bacon. When she looked over at him, he was scowling.
“You do that a lot,” she said, setting the half eaten piece of bacon down.
“Do what?”
“Scowl.”
“A lot makes me unhappy lately.”
Nervous energy rolled through her. “I’m not going to apologize for who I am or what I do, Flynn. That it makes you unhappy is on you.”
“I didn’t say you made me unhappy.”
His remark surprised her, but Izzy was smart enough not to go down that road with him again. It would end up in the same dead end it always did. Baby steps. Instead, she said, “I will however apologize for not thanking you last night for saving my life. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
He reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip. Her eyes riveted on the sensual fullness of his lips and the sheen of coffee on his upper lip. Hard shards of desire jabbed at her core. Squirming in her seat, she tried to suppress the craving. Didn’t work.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and took another sip.
“How is your head this morning?”
“Tender.”
“I’m sorry for whacking you with that wrench.”
“Apology accepted.”
When he didn’t offer more conversation, Izzy sat quietly and tried to enjoy her coffee. Having him so near, looking sexy and acting so aloof did the opposite of what it should have done. It made her want to engage him, not push him away, damn it! What she wouldn’t give to get inside this complicated man’s head. It was futile, though. He’d wrapped himself up tight.
“So, don’t you have a job to go to or does the FBI keep banker’s hours these days?”
“I had some time coming, so I took it.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he took time for her, but she squashed it. Even if he had, he’d make it not about her. Seriously, she needed to move forward with her plan instead of waiting for him to throw her a crumb.
When she snuck a glance at him, she found his brooding gaze still focused on her.
Biting her bottom lip, feeling like a germ beneath a microscope, Izzy looked around the solarium and smiled. There in the window was a pink Gerber daisy planter. Beaming, she looked at Flynn. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
Shrugging it off, he said, “They were selling them at the store. I thought you might like it.”
Raising her brows, she fought down the grin she couldn’t fully control and said, “You thought I might like it?”
Abruptly, he stood and walked over to the buffet and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Yes, you.”
Why did he have to make it so hard? Her smile receded as the urge to poke at his feelings for her enticed her. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. Why not find out where she stood, or could have? Not, she told herself, that it would matter.
It hit her like a sledgehammer that she had made a mistake. Flynn’s demeanor this morning left no doubt to anyone who was paying attention that he wasn’t interested. There was no sign of the man who’d brought her home last night. This man was cold. Disengaged.
“Do you think if we had met before I started working at Surf’s Up, things could have been different between us?” She wanted to hear the words, not speculate.
Flynn nearly choked on the coffee he’d just swallowed. Stunned, he looked at her. “What?”
Pointedly, she said, “I didn’t stutter.”
Flynn stared at her for several long seconds before he said, “I told you the night we met, I don’t do the commitment thing.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “I just don’t.”
“Neither do I, but at least I’m honest about why I don’t.” She set her cup down and stood up. “Especially with a man like you.”
“Is this where you insult me to make yourself feel better?”
“No.” Setting her hands on her hips, she elaborated. “Actually, it wouldn’t make me feel better. I feel pretty crappy because I wish you weren’t you. If you weren’t, then maybe I would break my rule and try.” Since she had nothing to lose, Izzy let him have the truth. “I would have put aside everything that scares me and let you in. For you, and only you, I would have been brave enough to try. To see what all the fuss was about. I was willing, Flynn, to give you a part of me I’ve never given anyone else. And I’m not talking about my hymen. But you threw it in my face, treated me like something you scraped off your shoe.” Tears stung her eyes now. “You didn’t even give me the chance to show you who I was, you just made assumptions, and your ego couldn’t handle them.” She moved in on him. “That’s the person I wished you weren’t. Because that other guy? The one who showed me the light? Who promised to help me, who cooked breakfast for me, who took me on a fabulous ride to the coast and introduced me to champagne? The guy who made me feel safe, the one who made me laugh? That guy? That’s the guy I would have given it all up for. But he never gave me a chance.”
“That second guy, the good one? He doesn’t exist,” Flynn said, standing. “The first guy is who I am.”
Izzy shook her head, dismayed by his refusal to sack up. “For such a badass, you’re the biggest coward I know.”
Sliding his chair under the table, Flynn speared her with keen blue eyes. “I know my limits, there’s nothing cowardly in that.”
“Your cowardice comes from hiding behind that first guy.”
He stood silently staring at her for what seemed like hours, but was in all actuality less than a minute. “You deserve better than me.”
Izzy laughed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better or you?”
“Neither. It’s the truth.”
Nodding, she looked up at him. “You’re right about that. I do deserve someone better than you. I deserve a guy who’s not willing to live without me.”
Lifting her chin, clenching her jaw and fists, Izzy strode toward him. His eyes widened. Oh, what she wouldn’t do for the honor of punching him! Hard. Make him feel something, damn it! Stopping inches from him, she stood up on her tiptoes and got in his face. “I only have one regret. Do you know what that is?”
He shook his head.
“I wish I’d never met you.”
His eyes darkened as his lips pulled tight. His only tell, slight as it was, that she had gotten to him was the slight acceleration of his breath pattern. In that one simple observation, Izzy realized he wasn’t made completely of stone. Sadly, it didn’t make her feel better. He had feelings all right, just not for her.
Running her fingers through her hair, Izzy shook her head. She needed to get out of here, because with each second that ticked by, she realized she was subconsciously giving Flynn the chance to change his mind. He wasn’t going to. Feeling gut-punched, she turned away. “I’m going for a run. If you insist on shadowing me, fine, but I’m going with or without you.”
“Isadora,” Flynn called as she walked away.
Shaking her head, fighting to keep calm, Izzy turned and put her hand up. “Don’t,” she said slowly, forcing her voice to remain level, “apologize for being you, Flynn. I certainly won’t apologize for being me. I get it. We all have our things. I just wanted you to know where I stood or would have, that’s all. It’s done, so just let it go.”
