The Pleasures of Summer

by Evie Hunter

  There was a blur in one corner. He zoomed in, trying to make out details. It looked like some sort of bell. ‘Why would there be a bell so high up?’ he muttered. Something about it looked vaguely familiar.

  ‘Oh, Christ.’ He had seen a bell just like that in Malcolm’s apartment. It was for calling a servant in a big house. Summer was in some sort of old-fashioned mansion.

  Hardly daring to breathe, he thumbed through the computer printouts of Fielding’s properties. One of them was a Regency period house near Hampstead Heath. They had put it to the bottom of the pile because it was so close that it seemed the least likely.

  Flynn picked up the phone. ‘Niall, I think I know where she is.’ He ignored Sinead tapping him on the shoulder until she pulled the phone out of his hand and pointed at the television.

  It was an aerial view of the main road into London. ‘… And the Eye in the Sky can confirm that the green Jaguar which fled from a police checkpoint only minutes ago is still driving erratically on the motorway. Unconfirmed reports suggest that the car belongs to property developer Robert Fielding and that the man driving the car was armed. Police are trying to block off the road. Over to the studio …’

  The reporter’s helicopter clearly showed Fielding’s car recklessly dodging in and out of traffic.

  ‘I have to go after her,’ he said, grabbing his crutches and swinging his way out of the house as fast as he could.

  ‘Are you mad?’ Sinead panted after him. ‘You can’t walk or drive. What are you going to do?’

  He had reached the Venom. ‘No, but I can still ride a bike. I’ll catch her, trust me.’

  As he pushed the bike to its fastest speed, he prayed that he could make good on his word. His right knee wasn’t actually painful on the bike, except for the vibration that rattled through it, so he could concentrate on weaving in and out of lanes, saving precious seconds by driving up the wrong side of the road to pass traffic. Summer. Summer. Summer. Her name echoed in his head with every turn of the wheels. He had to find her in time. It couldn’t be too late. Surely he would know if it was too late. Summer. Summer. Summer. He swerved around a tractor pulling bales of hay without dropping speed. Summer. Summer.

  The screech of tires and the endless weaving between lanes made Summer lose track of time. It could have been minutes or hours. Everything jumbled into one gigantic, bruising pain. More sirens. Louder this time. She could do nothing but hold on.

  The good times, the special times in her life flashed by like a series of photographs. Her dad, travelling with Molly, but most of all Flynn and the croft. The nights she had lain in his arms. The feel of his mouth on hers. The rough tug of his hands in her hair as he pleasured her. Owned her.

  Was this what happened when you knew you were going to die?

  She would regret none of that. Not one single night. And if she had her life to live over again, she would change nothing. Because everything she had done, every aimless, stupid, spoilt action she had taken had brought them together. For the briefest of times, for a single summer, she had felt truly loved.

  And nothing else mattered.

  The car stopped and the lid of the boot opened. Robert grabbed her arm. His other hand held the gun. ‘Out. Get out now. This is all your fault. Bitch.’

  He dragged her out of the boot and put one arm around her neck, holding her in a headlock. Only then was she conscious that the motorway was eerily empty. A helicopter circled overhead.

  Flynn was suddenly in the middle of a honking mass of stationary traffic. He dodged around, barely slowing, and found himself facing two police cars blocking the road. It was clear they were sealing off the motorway. They were not going to stop him.

  He aimed his bike at the tiny gap between the two cars, and opened the throttle. It was a tight squeeze but he got through with no more than bruises.

  He was out on the motorway, flying along in search of a green Jaguar with a broken tail light. He was vaguely aware of police motor bikes in pursuit and the traffic helicopter above him in the sky. The radio told him that they were following the Jag, waiting for a suitable place to stop it.

  Flynn raced along, so concentrated on finding Fielding that the other traffic appeared to be stationary to him. All he could think about was finding Summer before it was too late. If it wasn’t already too late. No, he couldn’t think that. He had to find her. He would find her in time. There was no alternative.

  He kept riding.

  A snarl of stopped cars ahead alerted him. He flew along until he could see a green car surrounded by police vehicles, and a familiar fall of dark hair. His lungs seized for a moment. Summer was still alive. He was in time.

  He braked sharply and dropped his bike in the shadow of an overpass. His knee wobbled as he got off, but he ignored it. If both his legs had been broken, it wouldn’t have mattered. He was in time. He would save her.

  Someone shouted through a loudspeaker, but Summer couldn’t make out his words. All she was conscious of was the sleeve of Robert’s blazer, the stink of his sweat and the tarmac scraping her bare feet as he dragged her along. She was afraid to acknowledge the cold press of his pistol against her bruised face.

  Everything seemed to slow down; every breath was torn from her lungs and felt as if it was her last. Her pulse pounded in her eardrums like a jackhammer, so loudly that she couldn’t make out the words that the police were shouting. The helicopter moved behind the overpass, the rotors keeping time with her racing heart.

  The helicopter moved further away and in the aftermath, there was a silence so complete and so surreal that she could have been in a post-apocalyptic zombie movie. The thought made her giggle hysterically. Her chest heaved and she coughed against Robert’s arm.

  In the distance, a motorbike screeched to a halt and a lone man emerged from beneath the bridge. She couldn’t see his face, but even from this distance she knew him. She blinked, trying to focus, hardly daring to believe her eyes.

  It was Flynn. He hadn’t abandoned her. Flynn had come.

  Flynn’s stomach twisted. Fielding was holding Summer in a brutal grip. He had his arm around her and was holding her head back by grabbing a hank of her hair. She was doing her best to stay calm, but he could imagine her panic. Fielding was holding a pistol to her head.

  Flynn’s hand tightened around his Sig.

  The police were talking to Fielding through loudspeakers, telling him to let her go and it would be all over. As if anyone believed that. Fielding’s grip tightened.

  ‘Let me go or I’ll shoot her,’ he shouted. ‘Back off.’

  One of the cops moved closer. Fielding yanked Summer’s head back, making her gasp with pain. ‘Move that car out the way or I swear, she’s dead.’

  The cop moved closer.

  Flynn watched as Fielding’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  He took a step out of the shadow of the overpass, raised his Sig and fired.

  Time slowed down. It seemed that the bullet took forever to reach Fielding, and for a horrible moment, Flynn thought Fielding would see it coming and move out of its path. But the shot was clean. It took Fielding straight in the mouth, severing his spinal cord as it exited the back of his head.

  Fielding dropped, Summer’s hair still tangled in his hand. She tumbled down with him. It only took a few strides for Flynn to reach her and pull her up.

  She fit into his arms as if she had never been out of them. She was shivering, barely able to breathe, and to his surprise, Flynn found he was shaking too.

  In the background, people were moving, vehicles got out of the way, and someone hovered over Fielding. None of it mattered. No one would ever take her away from him again. She was his, she would be his forever.

  He raised his head to tell her so.

  She whimpered. ‘Flynn, Flynn, oh god, I was so frightened.’

  He tightened his arms around her. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe now.’

  ‘Ahem.’ A polite, and obviously fake, cough alerted him a moment before a
policeman tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Sir? You need to come with us.’

  Flynn raised his head and glared at the young officer. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We need to question you, sir. You discharged a firearm and shot a suspect.’

  ‘Suspect?’

  The officer had the grace to look embarrassed, given that his colleagues were staring at what looked like a body in the rear seat of Fielding’s car. Flynn quashed a murderous rage that threatened to flare out of control at the thought of Robert locking her in the boot of the car. He had done that to his precious Summer. He wished that Fielding was still alive so that he could shoot him again.

  ‘I’m sure it will be fine, sir. But we need to interview you.’

  36

  Flynn scrawled his signature on the last of the police paperwork and pushed the clipboard across the desk to the middle-aged detective. ‘That the last of it. You’re free to go now,’ she told him.

  ‘Great,’ Flynn muttered. He was stiff and sore from sitting in an interview room for hours. He hadn’t seen Summer since the motorway and the need to be with her gnawed at his gut. He stood up, eager to find his orchid girl. Despite the support brace, his leg wobbled like jelly and he almost missed his crutches.

  He pulled his collar up as he exited the building, ignoring the reporters hanging around outside and hoping that they hadn’t seen him. Flynn stepped into the street and tried to hail a passing taxi. As soon as he did, a swarm of reporters thrust microphones and cameras in his face. ‘Are you the man who shot Robert Fielding? Would you care to make a statement, sir?’

  One of them tried to shove a business card into Flynn’s face. Damn it. This was why Niall insisted on a low profile. Flynn refused to answer them. Just as he was about to curse his boss, a dark limousine pulled up and the rear door opened. ‘Get in and stop making a show of yourself.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t dress up for me,’ Flynn said as he climbed awkwardly into the back seat beside Niall, who was wearing a tailored suit instead of his usual jeans.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Niall said and punched him on the arm. ‘We got out of this one by the skin of our teeth – from zero to hero in an hour. I thought O’Sullivan would have my nuts for sure.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘If you mean the principal, she’s installed in a penthouse in Claridge’s. The last time I saw her, she was surrounded by personal shoppers, and Teflon Tim was cracking open the champagne.’

  Flynn shook his head, remembering his last encounter with Summer’s personal shopper. Was that only a month ago? Now she was back in her own world. The enormity of it hit him like a punch in the gut. The job was over. The bad guy was dead. There was no reason for them to be together any longer. But the memory of her kiss on the motorway made him ache with hunger.

  ‘She wants you delivered ASAP.’

  ‘What?’

  Niall grinned. ‘You heard me. Ms O’Sullivan has requested your presence and you know it’s unforgivable to let a lady down.’

  Summer glanced around the suite. Where had all these people come from? Sinead was deep in conversation with Flynn’s friend Andy. The phones were ringing off the hook with reporters looking for an exclusive. The police were still here and her dad was pouring champagne as if there was no tomorrow. The couch was littered with dozens of bags from her favourite stores, but none of them held a scrap of interest for her. She was still wearing the same grubby clothes she had worn for the past few days and all she could think about was Flynn. She had to see him.

  Niall promised that he would collect Flynn and bring him here, but she didn’t want to see him with all of these people here. Surely it couldn’t take this long to deal with the police? As if sensing her distress, Sinead abandoned her companion. ‘I just got a message from that arrogant ass, Niall Moore. He said to tell you that the package is on its way.’

  ‘Oh thank god. Sinead, can you, um …’

  ‘Get rid of them?’ Her cousin gave her a conspiratorial wink. ‘No problem.’ In her best impersonation of a schoolmistress, she clapped her hands loudly until she got their attention. ‘Can we take this downstairs please? Summer needs to rest. I’m sure you’ll appreciate that it’s been a very difficult week for her.’

  Within minutes, the suite was hers again. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Flynn was on his way, and she looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge.

  She washed quickly in the glass-walled shower and hurried back to the lounge. The shopper had thought of everything. Moisturizers, serums, lingerie. The Scot was in for a surprise seduction. She pulled on an aubergine-coloured corset, heavily embroidered and decorated with lace. Someone had helpfully provided a matching dressing gown and length of silk ribbon. Maybe she could use it on Flynn. Digging further into the pile, she located some hold-up stockings. Another bag contained a pair of skyscraper heels.

  A month in the croft had given her some insight into his tastes. Operation Flynn was under way. She would make him hers again and this time she wasn’t letting him go. Summer closed the curtains and switched on a bedside lamp before hurriedly shoving the bags out of sight. She had almost finished drying her hair when a knock on the door announced his arrival. Her stomach fluttered like a dozen butterflies as she opened the door.

  The tall, blond man from the car park at York Minster leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe and beside him was Flynn. The delight in his eyes didn’t hide the pallor of his skin. Why hadn’t she noticed that earlier? Summer stepped back to allow them inside and winced when she saw Flynn limp to the nearest couch, where he sat down heavily.

  She looked to Niall for an explanation.

  ‘He has a few scrapes from his last outing. Don’t be too rough with him.’

  A dark cushion sailed across the room and bounced off the door. ‘Watch it. Even with one working leg, I could still beat the crap out of you.’

  ‘Temper, temper.’ Niall laughed. ‘If the lady decides she wants a real man, I’ll be downstairs in the bar. I’ll be back with your crutches later.’ He dropped a kiss on her cheek and closed the door behind him.

  Summer turned nervously, unsure what to say to him. After the kiss on the motorway, she had foolishly thought that they would fall into each other’s arms and things would be exactly as they were at the croft. But there was a nervousness about Flynn, a reserve that hadn’t been there before.

  She had dressed up like a femme fatale for him. Why didn’t he react? Flynn did care for her. He had to.

  ‘Nice place you’ve got,’ he said, glancing at the barrel-vaulted ceiling and sumptuous pale furnishings.

  ‘It was Dad’s idea.’ Summer shrugged as she crossed the room. ‘He wanted to celebrate and he’s organized dinner for later, to thank you.’

  ‘A farewell dinner?’ The edge to his voice made her uneasy. Flynn might be resigning himself to not being her bodyguard any more, but she was damned if she was giving up on them.

  She had missed him so much. The awful time when she had been trapped in Robert’s car, thinking that she was going to die, had made her realize that Flynn was the only man for her. She had to break through his reserve tonight or she might never see him again. She couldn’t risk that.

  If Flynn wouldn’t make the first move then she would. She had to convince him that they had a chance together, even if it meant stepping outside her comfort zone. She pressed on before she lost courage. ‘I had a lot of time to think about things while I was … while I was away,’ she said. ‘You know me better than anyone else. I’ve never felt so close to another person in my life. But you don’t know everything about me yet. So maybe we should keep exploring.’

  ‘Exploring?’

  Summer perched on the edge of the couch, relieved when his glance strayed to the lace at the top of her stocking. ‘And I believe you have something that belongs to me.’

  ‘Oh? And what would that be?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘You owe me a fantasy.’

  ‘Is that right?’ />
  The hint of danger in Flynn’s tone made her swallow. ‘Tonight, I want to be in charge.’

  His expression barely changed, but his eyes warmed. ‘In charge?’

  ‘Yes. You know, you do what I say, when I say it. That kind of in charge.’

  The dancing amusement in his eyes was tinged with something else and Summer couldn’t decide whether it was anticipation or lust. ‘You really are …’

  ‘A kinky wee bitch?’ she mocked. ‘Oh, but you knew that already. You’ve always known.’

  ‘Summer, I have a brace on my leg that makes me look like RoboCop, and I doubt if I can make it as far as the fireplace without help. Niall wasn’t joking about the crutches.’

  Disappointment mingled with relief. He did want her, but Flynn was afraid. This might not be the reunion she had longed for, but the only thing she was certain of was that she wanted Flynn now more than ever before.

  A tingle of anticipation fluttered low in her belly. You’re the notorious Summer O’Sullivan, she told herself. And it’s not as if he can run away from you. She stood up and offered him her arm. ‘That’s okay. I can move for both of us.’

  Flynn whistled when he saw the four-poster bed. If he wasn’t injured, she was willing to bet he would have found some creative uses for the wooden posts. Her nipples peaked with excitement.

  Flynn sat on the edge of the bed. His hooded expression gave her little confidence. She brushed her mouth against his in a teasing kiss. ‘Haven’t you missed me? Even a little bit.’

  ‘My little bit missed you a lot,’ he admitted grudgingly. ‘But I warned you what would happen if you ran away again. If I weren’t injured, you’d be in for a punishment spanking right about now.’

  She nipped at his jaw, tiny biting kisses as she opened the buttons of his shirt one by one. Encouraged by his murmur of approval, she tugged it down his arms and dropped it to the floor.