by Karin Tabke
There had been guys in college who would have jumped at the chance to be with her. Good men who would have treated her like a queen. A few she’d hung out with, to see if maybe she was missing out on something. She wasn’t. At least not with any of them.
From the moment she’d laid eyes on Flynn at the club, it was as if invisible hooks had sunk deep into her chest and reeled her in to him. She’d never felt so alive. So desired. So happy. What she felt was real. That’s what hurt so much. It was real. To her.
Was she being fair to Flynn and herself? They had been willing partners. Good God, she had desperately wanted what he gave her. Even now, as hurt as she was, she would not undo it. It was amazing. It had spoiled her. Flynn would be the benchmark by which she measured all men who came after him.
Just thinking about the way he touched her, warmed her from the inside out. The only consolation she could take away from her time with Flynn was that as much as he fought his inner demons, it was clear to the woman in her that the man in him still wanted her. At least physically. That wasn’t enough for her, though, not when she felt the way she felt about him. There was no way she could separate the sex from what her heart wanted. Even after he kicked her to the curb because his ego couldn’t handle what she had done, she still had feelings for him. Was it just a crush because he’d taken her virginity? No, there was more to it than that. Even after he dropped her off last night, her yearning for him had deepened.
The heart wanted what the heart wanted, and it wanted all of Flynn Ryker.
Sighing heavily, Izzy opened her eyes and looked toward the window. The streetlight shone through the slits of her blinds, the raindrops sparkling as shadows moved across the pane.
Was it fair of her to expect Flynn to be okay with what she would continue to do if she had to? She’d told Andre no more lap dances. That had gone in one ear and out the other, because he expected her to dance at Boris’s private party.
She would if it meant finding Alex. How did she expect a man like Flynn to handle that? He wouldn’t. He’d made that clear. Or maybe, just maybe that was his excuse. Charlie said men like Flynn didn’t know how to love. That he would need the patience of someone who saw he had love to give and who would nurture that part of him until he saw it for himself.
He wanted her. Had asked her to let him start over. It was her own fear of being rejected again that had pushed him away when he had reached out to her. She had done the same thing to Alex, and look what happened. Flynn was a once-in-a-lifetime guy. She wanted a chance with him. Was she willing to take it?
Reaching for her phone, she stopped halfway. He needed time to think and she needed to sleep on her revelation. Not that she would change her mind, but to let it simmer. And tomorrow put together a game plan.
Rolling over, she punched her pillow. It was almost two a.m. and she hadn’t slept a wink since the previous night. She needed to sleep. Reaching to the nightstand, she grabbed the windup clock and stuffed it between the mattress and box spring. It had been driving her crazy.
Closing her eyes, she sighed and started to count backward from one hundred…
Parked in his SUV across the street, drinking coffee, Flynn watched the shadows move around Pink’s little house. When the bedroom light went out, he imagined her creamy naked body slipping between the cool sheets. He wanted to be there. To feel the soft warmth of her skin against his. Stroke her silky hair, kiss her lush lips, and caress her bodacious breasts. He wanted the quiet time to hold her. Fall asleep in her arms and wake up inside of her.
His dick swelled in his pants as he imagined her arching into him, her hungry lips parted, her pearly white teeth biting her bottom lip as she hissed in a long luxurious breath.
Jesus Christ, he could not remember wanting anything as badly as he wanted her. Want collided with need. She was as unique as a snowflake. And as perfect. He should march right into her house and demand she take a chance on him because he was willing to take a chance on her.
What if it didn’t work out? He didn’t want to hurt her. It had never occurred to him that she might be the one to walk away. Feeling gut-punched at the thought, Flynn shook his head. He’d go insane if she walked out of his life for another man. Just the thought of her with Mad Dog ate at him.
Give him a gun and turn him loose in a room full of bad guys with bigger guns and he had no fear. Ask him to make a commitment to Pink and he ran for the hills.
The reel repeated itself in Flynn’s brain all night. When the sun rose over the little house, he stretched. Jack was on his way. He was going to take the day shift. Simon would relieve him around two, then Flynn would be back at nine. Pink might not think she was in danger, but Flynn knew otherwise. Whoever was behind the white van incident was behind the previous incidents. They were persistent and they knew where she worked and where she lived. What bothered Flynn the most about the incidents was that his gut told him they had nothing to do with Sorlov. They had begun last year before she knew the Surf’s Up club even existed. There was something else lurking behind the shadows…
Izzy woke to the rain. For a long time she lay in bed listening to it, thinking how much more she would enjoy it if Flynn were lying beside her. She smiled; or better yet, under her. Stretching, she forced herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Slogging her way to the kitchen she fixed what was left of the coffee. As it brewed, she opened the fridge and scowled. She needed to go to the store. The provisions Flynn had brought were just about gone. There was enough for a decent breakfast, but nothing more.
It was pouring outside. If the weather let up some, she would walk to Casper’s, the little neighborhood market, a few blocks away. They were organic certified and while a little costly, it was worth the splurge.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she sipped her coffee and booted up her laptop. Flynn was prominent on her mind. She’d dreamt of him. He was her first thought before she opened her eyes and the last one when she had closed them last night. She thought of him now. Sitting at the table eating breakfast. Smiling at her dumb jokes. Brushing her bangs from her face as he told her how much he loved touching her.
Her chest tightened. Did he, she wondered, have any idea what he did to her? How he had made her feel? As alive as he had made her feel, she felt empty now. Her confidence last night in her ability to win Flynn’s heart with patience went by the wayside. Who was she kidding? He didn’t need anyone, he had himself.
Izzy remembered the big Anatolian shepherd, Turk, her father had brought home to guard the house when she was eight years old. Turk had the run of the property. No one got past the gate. He had been a handful, a dangerous animal, and her father had warned her to stay away from him. But Izzy was drawn to the big rough-and-tumble dog. She was patient with Turk. Eventually his loyalty to her rose above his loyalty to the rest of the family. The night she was kicked out, Turk sensed something was terribly wrong. He’d fought his way out of the house to run after her and her mother.
When her father commanded him to return from the driveway, Turk looked over his shoulder, but stayed loyal to Izzy. Crying, she had buried her face in his fur as she told him to go. He refused even as she screamed at him to return home, pointing to the house. Steadfastly he refused. It was harder walking away from that big protective boy than it had been to leave her sister, who didn’t blink when the shit hit the fan. Turk stood loyal. It wasn’t until her father leashed him and told her to get out of his sight and never darken his doorstep again that she was able to leave.
All these years later she could still hear Turk’s pitiful howls for her return.
He didn’t understand why she left. If she could have taken him with her, she would have. But he wasn’t hers to have.
Sighing heavily, Izzy thought Flynn would be a lot like Turk if she was as patient with him. What if after all her efforts she was the one left alone and howling on the driveway?
Rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she groaned. Izzy couldn’t live the way her mother had. Miserable beca
use the man she loved had broken her heart. Izzy wasn’t the type of person to dabble. She was either fully committed or she was completely out. It was the only way she knew how to do things. Nothing halfway. It had gotten her through college and into law school.
It would be the same with Flynn. In or out. Rinsing her coffee cup, she set it in the sink. Last night the answer was simple. Now she wasn’t sure. Not of her feelings for Flynn, but of her feelings for herself. She’d suffered enough pain, humiliation, and rejection for a lifetime.
Going all in for Flynn was a gamble. If she hit the jackpot, the rewards would be priceless. If she rolled the dice and lost, the cost would be disastrous.
As the day wore on, Izzy changed her mind every five minutes. Each time she did, she was sure she had made the right decision for her mental health and well-being.
When she slipped beneath the sheets that night and closed her eyes, her head hurt. In the recesses of her mind and in the depths of her heart, Izzy knew she could not pass up the chance to win Flynn’s heart. On that note, the rain started to come down again. Smiling, she drifted off into Flynn dreamland…
…Izzy started, her eyes popping open. A sound had woken her. Her body tightened. There it was again. From the kitchen door, the scrape of metal on metal as if someone was picking her lock and not caring if she heard.
Grabbing for her cell phone, she stifled a cry when she realized she’d left it on the charger in the kitchen. The creak of the kitchen door slowly opening propelled her from her bed across the hall to Charlie’s room, where she knew he had a big wrench he used to weigh down his Brad Pitt blow-up doll.
Grabbing it, Izzy pushed Brad out of her way when he bounced in front of her.
There was a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by the sound of a fist meeting flesh and bones. Then a grunt, another crash; this time it sounded like her kitchen table had splintered into pieces. More grunts.
Who the hell was fighting in her kitchen? And why?
Flattening against the wall, wrench clutched like a club in her right hand, Izzy inched down the hall. It sounded as if the fight had moved from her kitchen outside to the side porch. The steady rain muffled the sounds.
If she could just get to her cell phone on the counter.
Standing still, wrench over her head, Izzy listened. For a long minute she didn’t hear anything but the rain. The house was dark. This was her chance.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to go for her phone. As she darted for the counter, an arm grabbed her. She screamed and swung the wrench around, clunking her assailant on the head.
The arm loosened. “Christ!” The man she hit dropped to his knees.
“Flynn?” she cried, turning on the light.
When she turned back to him he was on his back, soaking wet, blood streaming down the side of his head.
“Oh, my, God, Flynn!” She dropped to her knees and touched his head, recoiling as she touched warm blood. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you!”
His dazed eyes opened. “Bad guy’s on the driveway…Lock the door. Cops on their way.” Narrowing his eyes, he stared at her for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“Bad guy? What bad guy?” she shrieked. Frantic, Izzy stood up, grabbed a wad of paper towels from the counter and dampened them, then pressed them to his head, trying to stem the flow of blood.
“The one I just caught breaking into your house.”
Izzy’s body shook violently. “I—I’m, yes, okay.”
“Good.” He closed his eyes.
“You’re bleeding bad, Flynn, I need to call an ambulance,” she sobbed.
Opening his eyes, he shook his head, some of the daze gone. “One on the way. I beat the shit out of that guy.” He grinned despite the pain he must be suffering. “Never knew what hit him.” Holding the paper towels to his head, Flynn moved to sit up, groaning as he did.
“Stay down. Wait for the paramedics.”
“I’m good. Just help me up.”
Knowing that arguing with him would be futile, Izzy slid one hand under his armpit and grasped his hand with her free hand, and pulled him toward her. He was big, and had he not done most of the work, he would have remained on the floor. Slowly, he stood with her help. Guiding him to the one chair left intact, she helped him into it. “How did you know someone was here?”
“I’ve been parked out front all night. It was too quiet for my liking so I decided to do a perimeter check. When I came around to the side of the house, he was just going into the kitchen. I got him as he was headed for the hallway.”
Her heart thundered against her chest. She could have been killed! “I was sound asleep. But something woke me. When I realized someone was trying to break in and I didn’t have my phone with me, I ran into Charlie’s room and grabbed his Brad Pitt wrench. I’m sorry, I had no idea it was you.”
“It’s okay. I’d take a dozen more if meant keeping you safe.”
Despite the shock of what had just happened in her house, Izzy’s heart swelled at his words. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Instead of nicely saying, you’re welcome, he scowled and said, “If you had listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”
Distant sirens wailed closer.
Flynn was pissed. He stood slowly and tossed the bloody towels onto the counter. “You could be dead or worse, Isadora! I’m not going to take no for an answer again, you’re coming home with me and that’s where you’ll stay until this is over.”
“I’m sorry, Flynn,” she said. He was right. She’d been foolish to stay here alone, but when he’d asked, going home with him wasn’t an option.
He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “You scared ten years off my life. Don’t do it again.” He turned and strode out the door to meet the arriving cavalry.
Izzy moved to the doorway and listened as Flynn let loose a string of expletives.
“He was out cold, right there,” he said to the approaching cop, pointing to the driveway. “Motherfucker got away.”
“We’ll put a BOLO out,” the cop said.
“Get a dog out here stat. If he’s on foot, we’ll get him.”
The uniform called for a K-9 unit. Then Flynn gave him a description. White male, age late twenties early thirties, six two, two eighty, dark hair, eye color unknown, only disguisable mark was a deep scar that ran from chin into the bottom lip, dark pants and sweater. Flynn squatted and peered at something in the damp grass.
“Get me a bag,” Flynn commanded the officer.
Flynn pulled his cell phone out and made a call. As the police officer came back with an evidence bag, Flynn picked the item up with it, and sealed it.
“My guys are on their way in. I’ll hold on to this,” he said to the uniform.
“Less paper for me,” the cop said. “K-9 en route.”
Flynn glanced up at Izzy and waved her back into the house. Only because she was dressed in a T-shirt and panties and didn’t want to give OPD a free show did she do what he commanded.
She watched Flynn hold out his hands while a tech swabbed his hands. He walked to his SUV and took out a bag. Striding back to the house he gave short curt orders. A tech handed him a large paper bag. Flynn proceeded into the house and into her bathroom. Several moments later he emerged dressed in sweats, a tee-shirt and running shoes, carrying the paper bag with his clothing in it.
“Why did you change?” she asked.
Holding up the bag, Flynn said, “Could be transfer DNA from the bad guy. If there is, the lab will run it through CODIS and hopefully get a hit. Go get dressed,” he commanded.
He was awfully bossy.
Izzy put on a bra, changed into yoga pants, and was making her way back to the kitchen, when Flynn intercepted her. “Your house is officially a crime scene. Pack a bag, call your roommate and tell him to steer clear until further notice. We’re leaving.”
“But I can’t—”
Moving her against the wal
l with his big body, Flynn lowered his head and said firmly, “Of course you can. Now stop arguing with me.”
“I’m not going to stay with you.” It just came out. She wanted to stay with him, but now that she’d said it, she couldn’t take it back. Besides, he needed to know he couldn’t boss her around this way.
“Then stay at a hotel.”
“Fine,” she said and strode to her room to pack a bag. As she packed her bag, she cursed her temper. She’d just blown the perfect opportunity to be with Flynn. Not only that, she had no way of paying for a hotel. She barely had enough in her account to pay her half of the rent next month.
When she walked into the small living room, Flynn was seated on the sofa with a very cute female paramedic tending him. Her ample bust was level with his mouth as she bent over his head. It irked Izzy. It must have shown on her face because Flynn grinned. Whatever.
“Doesn’t look like stitches, Flynn,” the paramedic said, “It’s the head and it bleeds. But you could be concussed. I strongly recommend that you let us give you a ride to the ER to get checked out.”
“I know the signs. If I feel the need I’ll take myself in,” he said, brushing aside her concern.
When she stepped back and caught sight of Izzy, she made a little frowny face. Yeah, Izzy couldn’t blame her. Flynn had the same effect on her.
A few minutes later, she and Flynn exited through the front door. The rain had started up again, heavier now. Numerous cop cars and unmarked cars were stacked up in the street. There were people in her kitchen and around her house with flashlights, along with the sound of a barking dog she spotted in the back of a police car.
From what she’d overheard while she was packing, the dog had picked up the scent, even in the rain, but it stopped behind the house that backed up to hers. The bad guy must have come that way through her back neighbor’s yard, having parked his getaway car there.
“Isn’t all of this a bit of overkill?” she asked. “We were due to get hit.” Breaking and enterings in Oakland were not unheard of; in fact, in her neighborhood they were the crime de jour. It was just a matter of time before they got hit.