In a Bad Way

by Karin Tabke

  “My God, this is amazing, Flynn,” she said, walking to the edge of the wall.

  He stood behind her, his tall body protectively shadowing hers. “I come up here to think,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what time of year, day or night, I’m always able to clear the cobwebs.”

  The view was endless. Awe-inspiring. The magnificent bay, strong and powerful, deadly even, but like all living things, vulnerable.

  Turning around, Izzy looked up at her complicated Special Agent. His still waters ran very deep. Flynn wasn’t heartless; his heart, she realized, was encased with scar tissue. If anyone could understand his reluctance to love, it was her. The pain of love lost, of rejection, of longing for something that would never be, ate at a person. It left deep wounds that festered. They never healed; instead they slowly became encased in armor. Acknowledging the pain and the reasons for it didn’t make it better. Neither did accepting it. Acceptance made it worse. Accepting an unreachable heart meant you were content to exist in a loveless life. How sad for Flynn.

  Izzy didn’t want that life. She wanted love. Mad, passionate, I’m-on-fire, love. To give it and receive it. She wanted a man who would fight with her and for her. A man who every time he looked at her saw his moon and stars. A man who wouldn’t back down from her fire, but continuously ignited it because the same fire burned in him.

  He stared past her to the horizon, his jaw tight, his eyes slightly squinting. He hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble on his face more pronounced than it was this morning. He was all badass male. Clad in black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket, jet-black hair punctuated by his stunning blue eyes. Izzy’s herculean efforts to remain distant and uninterested in him were in vain. Flynn Ryker touched her on a basic, primal level. When his male spoke to her female, there was nothing her sensibilities could do to prevent the inevitable sparks that blazed between them. He was desperately attracted to her, no matter how hard he fought it, same as her. While Flynn had no problem giving in to the physical aspect of their attraction, he refused to emotionally engage.

  Slowly she smiled. Had he ever been challenged to let go? To drop his walls and take a chance on a relationship? Izzy bet he’d never given anyone the chance to get to him, much less get to know him. Well, she had the chance. She had gotten to him. Had nothing but time with him.

  While Flynn might think he wasn’t relationship material, Izzy knew he was. Once he committed, he would be the kind of man who would remain true until the day his woman died.

  Emotion swelled in her chest, constricting her airflow. To be loved so completely by this man was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. For the first time in Izzy’s life, she wanted something more than to be a Chastain.

  She wanted Flynn. She would fight for him. And she would win.

  When Flynn’s gaze dropped to hers, her smile widened. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Pink?”

  “Hah, wouldn’t you like to know!”

  He reached up to touch her, but stopped mid reach. The breeze buffeted her hair around her face. Pushing it back, she continued to look up at him. “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Bubble gum.”

  Laughing, Izzy swatted him and turned around to gaze at the bay that twinkled below. “Bubble gum isn’t food, Flynn. It’s candy.”

  “Candy can be my favorite food.” Warmth from his breath caressed her ear. “I like Pink bubble gum the best.”

  Shivering because it was cold, not because his words stirred her, Izzy wrapped her arms around herself. Flynn removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders over her jacket. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she stared out at the bay.

  “The wind is cold,” he said. “You should have worn layers.”

  Turning, she continued to smile at him. “You know you like me.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why it was a problem, but she didn’t. She knew why. “Let’s get out of here, I’m hungry.” Handing him back his jacket she stepped past him.

  As he walked toward his tricked-out, sleek black Harley, he said, “A woman after my own heart.”

  Strapping her helmet on, Izzy said, “I know a place on Adeline.”

  Flynn straddled his bike, waiting for her to get on behind him. The seat was small. “This bike wasn’t designed for passengers,” he had told her in the garage. “You’re going to have to sit close and hang on tight. You okay with that?”

  She had assured him she was. And boy was it. She liked the feel of his big warm body against hers. Besides, she’d never said anything about her not touching him.

  Jimmy’s was a local collegiate haunt with traditional pub grub that was cheap and decent, with two-dollar beers and karaoke. Grabbing Flynn’s hand as they dismounted the bike, Izzy dragged him into the loud and crowded pub.

  Stowing their helmets and jackets with the hostess, they proceeded into the lively establishment.

  “Hey, Iz, where the hell have you been?” Nick the bouncer called as she negotiated her way toward the three-deep bar.

  “Working!” she called, continuing toward the stacked bar. “Jimmy,” she called, waving to the bartender and owner. “Dos Patrons por favor!”

  He grinned, showing big white teeth. “You got it, Pinky.”

  Flynn’s hand tightened at Jimmy’s pet name for her.

  Turning with a big grin, she said, “You’re not the only man in my life, Flynn.”

  He didn’t look at her; he was too busy glaring at the affable barkeep. Grabbing the two shots, Izzy handed Flynn one. When he took it, she clanked her glass to his and said, “Bottoms up, baby.” Then threw it back. The warmth of the liquor spread through her chilled body. She slammed her shot glass down on the bar and Jimmy didn’t wait to be asked, he refilled it. Izzy laughed, feeling comfortable in her element.

  Before Flynn had drunk his first shot, Izzy threw back her second. “Drink up,” she said over the din of the crowd. Throwing the shot back, Flynn set it on the bar, but put his palm over the top, indicating he was done.

  “Party pooper,” Izzy said, and then pulled him further into the pub, past the karaoke stage to a small table on the fringe. For as crowded as the pub was, most everyone stood, so there was always a table or two open.

  Just as they sat down, a perky little server named Dolly set menus down on their table. “Drinks?” she asked.

  “Two waters,” Flynn said.

  “And a shot of Patron,” Izzy added.

  Flynn scowled. “You won’t be able to ride back with me if you’re drunk, Pink.”

  “That’s what cabs are for.”

  His scowl deepened, but he didn’t say another word about it. Instead he asked, “You come here often?”

  “I used to, when I was an undergrad.”

  “Undergrad?”

  “Yes, commonly known as a person who is working toward their first degree?”

  “You graduated from Cal?”

  “Summa cum laude, baby.”

  Flynn nodded. She could see by the way he stared at her that he was dying to know more. When Dolly set the waters down, she also set down two menus. “Your shot will be right here. Jimmy said not to forget your deal.”

  Izzy smiled. “Tell Jimmy thanks for the reminder.”

  Grinning, Izzy opened the menu, holding it up so that Flynn couldn’t see her face. She giggled when Flynn’s finger pushed the menu down, forcing her to look at him. “What deal?”

  “Just some bartering we did a few years ago.”

  “Out with it, Pink.”

  Setting the menu down on the table, she said, “You know far more about me than I do you. Do you think that’s fair?”

  “You Googled me, you know everything there is to know.”

  “I want to know what’s going on inside there.” She tapped his forehead. “And here.” She pressed her hand to his heart. It beat strong beneath her palm.

  He stopped himself when his hand reache
d for hers.

  Giving him no quarter, Izzy kept it there. “Why have you closed yourself off to love?”

  “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  “You know me well enough by now to know that I don’t. Now answer me.”

  “I don’t have an answer.”

  “What are you afraid of, Flynn? Of loving and not being loved in return?”

  “My life isn’t conducive to a relationship.”

  Sitting back, she considered his answer. It was lame. “Why not?”

  “I move around. I could be transferred halfway around the world at a moment’s notice.”

  “So?”

  “So it wouldn’t be fair to leave someone.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that the person you would be leaving behind would love you enough to go with you? To follow you to the moon if that’s where you were assigned?”

  “I wouldn’t do that to someone.”

  “That’s not your call.”

  “Yeah. It kind of is.”

  She frowned. She supposed it was, in a way. If he guarded his heart fiercely enough, he’d drive anyone away. It had worked easily enough with her. Almost.

  Dolly approached, cracking her gum and carrying Izzy’s shot. “You decide whatcha wanted?” she asked as she set the tequila down in front of Izzy.

  “How about one of Jimmy’s famous meat samplers?” Izzy said. Men loved meat, and so did she.

  “Sides?”

  “All of them.”

  “For reals?”

  “For reals.”

  “Okay, girlfriend, you got it.”

  As Dolly sashayed away, Izzy raised her glass to Flynn. “Slainte.”

  His brows furrowed.

  “Stop being such a bore, Flynn,” she said after she drank it. “Loosen up. Have some fun. You’re always so serious.”

  “I want you to slow down.”

  She stood up and bent down, pressing her face close to his, and said, “I’m just about to rev it up, Special Agent.” Then gave him a quick peck on the lips. She laughed at his stunned look. “Priceless, Special Agent, priceless.”

  With that she headed for the bathroom just as the DJ announced, “It’s open mic tonight, lads and lasses. Check out the updated playlist, Jimmy the tightwad finally sprang for some new tunes!”

  Izzy smiled. She loved karaoke even though she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life. Maybe Flynn could sing. She’d give her right arm to see that happen.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Sitting back in his chair, Flynn kept a sharp eye on the hallway Pink had just walked down. The pub was loud and crowded, but Berkeley was a college town and the place was full of college students. His lips quirked. Pink was just full of surprises.

  “We’re going to do things a little different tonight,” the DJ announced over the throng. “I’ll announce the track, first warm body to the mic gets to perform.”

  From the spattering of applause, the crowd didn’t seem interested.

  “Let’s give it up for some ‘Uptown Funk’!” the DJ announced holding out the mic toward the tables.

  Flynn shook his head and sipped his water. No takers. He perked up when Pink emerged from the hallway. As she passed the stage, the DJ reached out and grabbed her. “We have our first singer!”

  Pink laughed, shaking her head. Not taking no for an answer, the DJ pressed the mic into her hand and drew her up to the stage. Flynn watched with keen interest. If she refused again, and the guy insisted, he’d intercede, but if she was cool with it, so was he.

  The music started. Looking at Flynn, Pink smiled and shrugged like, here-goes-nothing. Grinning, Flynn gave her the thumbs-up.

  Throwing her head back, she laughed and started to tap her foot to the beat. When her hips began to swing back and forth to the doo-wop sound and she ran her fingers through her hair, Flynn’s blood stirred.

  When she started to sing, he sat up straight. Her clear breathless voice struck straight to his groin. It wasn’t perfect, a little off key, but a hell of a lot better than he could sing. It was her smile and the way she danced, throwing her chin out, shaking her head, and turning with the tempo that hit every one of his buttons. She was having fun with it. The crowd started to clap, cheering encouragement.

  Some random guy jumped up on stage and began to dance with her. If Flynn wasn’t the jealous type, he’d enjoy the way they moved in sync as if they’d practiced the moves. But he’d discovered he was the jealous type. When Pink spun around and sang the words, “I’m too hot,” and touched the tip of her index finger to her ass, then pulled it away like she was burned and shook it at her singing partner, the guy grabbed her hand and blew on her fingertip. She looked right at Flynn when he did.

  The quick beat didn’t give room for mistakes and damn if she didn’t look like she was a natural. He found himself thoroughly enjoying her moves. Especially when she did a few James Brown spins. Wasn’t like she hadn’t picked up a few moves watching the dancers at Surf’s Up. He didn’t let that thought irk him. He had been working hard to get past the fact that dozens of men had seen her half naked and dozens more still might.

  As the song ended, the crowd erupted. Laughing, Pink made her bows, handed the mic to the DJ, then curtseyed to her partner. He was in the same age range as Pink, tall, clean-cut, good-looking kid. The adoring lap dog type. The polar opposite of Flynn’s hard dog. Flynn didn’t like the way the little lap dog casually slung his arm around Pink’s shoulder. The gesture was familiar. Something Flynn wasn’t allowed to do.

  Grabbing his hand, Pink raised it up over their heads and called to the crowd, “Give it up for my man, Jamie O’Grady!”

  “Pinky and the J man!” the DJ said, “Let’s get it on with some ‘Blurred Lines’!”

  Pink laughed, shaking her head and moving toward their table.

  “Hey, hey, you know you want it!” Jamie said, slipping his arm around her waist and guiding her back onto the stage.

  Retrieving the mic, she looked over her shoulder to the crowd and said, “Do you want it?”

  The pub erupted. Flynn couldn’t help whistling encouragement with the rest of her adoring fans. She was something else. She owned every person in the place.

  Pink turned the prompter toward the crowd and held out the mic toward them. “Only if you all sing with me!”

  The crowd roared and when Pink turned around and shook that sweet ass of hers to the beat, Flynn squirmed in his chair. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help but whoop-whoop along with the crowd. She was beautiful, and lush, and knew how to work it. As Jamie belted out the provocative lyrics, Pink strutted around him like a peacock, shaking her finger at him each time he reached out to touch her. Playing the suffering male, Jamie rolled his eyes and grinned, following her helplessly around the stage.

  The lyrics were apropos. Pink was a good girl. But when Flynn had unleashed the animal in her, she had shocked them both. Domesticated she would never be. She was a wild spirit who needed to stay free. The man who tried to cage her would lose her.

  Flynn swallowed hard. In his way, he had attempted just that. Put her into a nice neat little package, selfishly releasing her when it suited him. He wasn’t lying to her when he told her she deserved a better man than he. A better man wouldn’t even think about holding her back. He’d let her fly, stoking her wild fire, confident in her love for him.

  Flynn wasn’t that man. He refused to suffer the way his mother and sister had. The way his sister-in-law continued to. He’d seen it happen so many times, he didn’t give infidelity a second thought. It was just what people did.

  Flynn loved his life. He loved his job and he loved that he had no ties or accountability to anyone but himself. There was no one to tell him what he could and could not do. How to behave or what to wear. No one to hurt him. No one for him to hurt. He was free to be himself.

  His gaze narrowed on the innocent temptress who captivated the entire place with her sexy moves, her sweet breathless voice, and the simple j
oy of what she was doing. Singing and dancing, not one inhibition keeping her from just being who she was. He might love his freedom, but he longed for the free spirit singing and dancing before him. He was a better man when he was with her. Because of her.

  Pink turned, shook that ass he loved at him, and over her shoulder blew him a kiss as she sang the chorus, “You know you want it.”

  Flynn grinned, nodding, and pointed to himself as he mouthed the words, “You know you want this.”

  With each turn and twist, each shake of her bottom, Flynn envisioned himself up there with her, laughing and carefree, not a goddamn care in the world. His world was fraught with life-and-death scenarios. There wasn’t a place or a time where he could let his guard down. Not when he knew the danger that lurked around every corner.

  The song ended, and for the second time, Pink bowed to the cheers of the crowd. Jamie took her hand and kissed it then exited the stage. This time when she tossed the mic to the DJ, Pink ran from the small stage across the dance floor to their table, where she plopped breathless into the chair beside him.

  Beaming happily at him, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Note the day and time! Special Agent Ryker is smiling!” He scowled and she pouted. “Aw, I knew it was too good to be true.”

  Controlling the urge to pull her onto his lap and lay a big wet kiss on those pink bubble gum lips, claiming her in front of her adoring crowd, Flynn switched gears. He’d been so captivated by her performance, he hadn’t noticed the table was covered with food. Brisket, corned beef, pulled pork, hot links, fries, onion rings, slaw, and fried pickles. “Let’s eat,” he said.