by Karin Tabke
His texts were more of the same.
Flynn swiped his hand through his hair and shook his head. He didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
“Talk amongst yourselves, gentlemen, while I get dressed,” Pink said, then twinkled out of the room.
Once she was gone, Flynn slammed his hand down on the counter. “She’s not dancing for that asshole.”
“Flynn,” Maddox said, “all we need her to do is give Sorlov the drive.”
Jamming his fingers through his hair again, Flynn gave them one way in and one way out. His way. “She calls the giant when she comes back down, demands a meeting with Sorlov at the club, prior to her clocking in. Once she hands over the drive, she makes her exit and does not return under any circumstance.”
Justin looked at Maddox who nodded, then back to Flynn. “We can live with that.”
“Good, because that’s all you’re going to get. That goes without saying that the place will be crammed inside and out with UCs.”
“Of course,” Maddox said. “I’ll be inside and close.”
Justin smiled like the cat that just swallowed the canary. “When she calls Andre, she tells him you roughed her up and that she’s afraid to come to work. He’ll promise extra security. She agrees. Face-to-face with Sorlov, she tells him that in exchange for the video, he has to tell her what happened to her sister. Of course he’ll agree. She hands over the drive; he watches it with her there to be sure he has something. Thinking he has a gold mine, he’ll feed Miss Fuentes a line of bullshit. She’ll act appeased, then offer to make another video of one of your friends for some serious cash. If we can get him to agree, we’ll have him on intent alone, but it’ll be weak. Regardless, she makes her exit. Then we wait for him to make the call to you, Flynn. And pray he makes you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“We wire her up to keep tabs on her in case something goes awry,” Flynn insisted.
“Done,” Justin said.
“What if none of it goes according to plan?” Flynn asked.
“We’ll punt.”
“Not with her as the football you won’t.”
“He’s not going to hurt her. If anything, he’ll arrange to hand her off like he most likely did the sister, but we’ll be one step ahead of him.”
“If he does, I want to go with it,” Pink said striding back into the kitchen. “I want to ride this out all of the way to the end.”
Clamping his jaw, Flynn rubbed his suddenly throbbing temples. He was doomed. Unless he physically restrained her, she was going through with this dangerous charade.
God help them all.
Chapter Thirty-seven
“Hello, Andre,” Izzy chirped.
“Oh, little girl, so happy you call!” Andre said, relief heavy in his voice.
“I wasn’t going to call you. I still haven’t decided if I’m coming back to work.”
“Please, you must!”
“I want a raise.”
“How much raise?”
“Twenty an hour and seventy percent of my tips.”
“Seventy percent! I cannot do.”
Izzy hit the end icon.
Maddox and Justin jumped out of their chairs. Flynn just smiled.
Her phone rang. “My percentage just went up five percent, Andre. Tell me no again and it goes up another five.”
“You are bitch.”
“And you hurt me, Andre! How could you do that?”
He sighed. “Under much pressure. I apologize. I won’t hurt again.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, little girl, I promise. Now, you come to work tonight. Important mens coming.”
“Do you agree to my pay increases?”
“Yes.”
“Is Boris coming in tonight?”
“Why you want to know?” he asked suspiciously.
“My phone was turned in at my gym. I downloaded the video onto a flash drive. I want to personally put it into Boris’s hand.”
“Give me drive and I give to him.”
“My hand to his. Not negotiable, Andre.”
“It no work that way.”
She hung up again.
Flynn grinned. He wanted to hug her. She was playing it so cool. And so damn hard.
Her phone rang again.
“Andre, stop calling me.” She hung up.
“Isadora, please” Maddox pleaded. “You’re killing me.”
The phone rang again.
She answered and before she could say a word, Andre said, “Okay, yes, Boris coming!”
“Aww, thank you. You know, for a grumpy giant you have your moments. I want to meet Boris at eight. At the club is fine. I’m not due to hit the floor until nine.”
“Where is boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Even though he acts like it. Do you know what he did to me last night? He put his hands on me when I told him to disappear. I have a few bruises, but I can hide them with makeup. I want your promise that if he shows up tonight, you’ll handle him.”
“I vill be ready this time.”
“I hope so, Andre, because you folded like an accordion last night.” Pink hung up and set the phone on the table, smiling.
“How was that?”
Maddox stopped pacing and Justin wiped the perspiration from his brow. “You gave me a dozen gray hairs over that, Miss Fuentes.” He grinned. “But it was the perfect setup.”
Flynn shook his head, proud of her chutzpah, but dreading her going back to the club.
Hours later, after Justin and Maddox had left, Izzy luxuriated in the spa-sized tub. It had taken forever to fill, but settling back into the silky smoothness of the bubbles was worth the wait. She and Flynn had gone for a quick run late in the afternoon. This time when she passed her childhood home, Izzy kept her eyes forward and for the first time since she was kicked out, didn’t feel the emotional sting of not being welcome in her father’s house.
His loss. Frankly, she didn’t want a man like him in her life.
Life since she’d met Flynn had changed irrevocably for her. She wasn’t the scared little girl looking for love or trying to prove herself to a family that didn’t want her. The drive to surpass their academic honors and social standing no longer held sway over her. With that, Izzy wondered what she was going to do. Because it occurred to her, now, that she didn’t want to be a lawyer. She’d only gone for it to prove to her father that she could.
“What’s going through that complicated head of yours?” Flynn asked from the doorway.
Looking up she smiled. He was soaking wet, clad only in his gym shorts and tennis shoes. He was un-taping his hands. She’d left him in his gym punching the crap out of a heavy bag.
“I don’t think I’m going to go to law school.”
He tossed the tape into the trashcan and came over to the tub and sat on the edge. “Why not?”
“I never really wanted to be a lawyer. I’ve secretly always wanted to do something more artsy. Hence my art and legal studies double major.”
“Then do it. Do whatever makes you happy, baby. “
“Hmm, what if that art was interpretative dance?”
He shrugged and stripped off his shorts. “Go for it. I could watch you dance for hours.” She couldn’t help the slow burn that flared between her thighs when his fine ass flexed.
“Naked interpretive dance.”
He turned so fast, Izzy cracked up.
He stepped into the big tub. “The only naked dancing you’ll do is for me. In private.” He pulled her into his arms and smeared his sweaty forehead across hers.
“I’m serious!” she cried as he slid his nose along her throat and nibbled her skin.
“Fine, I’ll quit my job and dance naked with you.”
“Oh, now there’s an idea.”
Settling into his arms, Izzy looked up at him and smiled. “If you couldn’t be an FBI agent, what would you do?”
Exhaling, he lay back against the tub. “I never thought about it. I love what
I do.”
“What do you like the most?”
“The rush of the hunt. The final stand against the bad guy. The victory.”
“The infatuation of peril. Great, my boyfriend is an adrenaline junkie.”
He laughed. “I love pushing it, Isa.” He kissed her shoulder, then lifted her up and turned her around so that she faced him. “I love your body more.”
Keeping his straining lips from her eager nipple, Izzy held him at bay. “What happens when I’m no longer a challenge to you?”
He blinked like she had just asked him to cut his head off. “You? Never be a challenge to me?” He smiled slowly. “I highly doubt that day will ever come to pass, but if it did?” He slid his fingers along her collarbone. “I’d have to cut you loose.”
She smacked him and he burst out laughing, hugging her to him. “Isa, there are going to be days in our future where we very well may want to kill each other.” He brushed his lips across hers. “But I’m not letting you get away from me, even if you want to run. We’ll figure things out as we go. And we’re going to have fun doing it.”
Stilling at his words and the sincerity of his tone, Izzy searched his dark blue eyes for any hint of a lie. All she found was determination, and—her heart melted— love.
“What happens if you get fired because of me?”
He kissed her forehead and sat back. “I’m not going to get fired. Reassigned to a boring desk job in Anchorage, perhaps, but fired, no. I’m too valuable to fire. “
“Anchorage?”
“Yup, we’ve got a field office up there.”
“Aren’t there polar bears in Alaska?”
“Yup.”
She shivered. “How long would we be there?”
He grinned. “As long as it took to get back into the Bureau’s good graces.”
Izzy slid her aroused breasts along his slick chest. “Hmm, then I guess we should start practicing our generating-body-heat methods now.”
Flynn’s hands slid around her waist, lifting her so that when she moved back against him, his thick heat filled her.
“Good God, Flynn,” she moaned. “I will never not love the way you feel sliding into me.”
Cupping the back of her head with his hand, he brought her lips to his and said, “I will never not love sliding balls-deep into you.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
At seven o’clock sharp, they pulled up in front of the MacArthur BART station in Flynn’s SUV. It was decided that Izzy should go through the motions of her regular routine. Boris was a free criminal for a reason. He was smart. With the meeting set, it was assumed he was alerted as to what Izzy possessed, and with that knowledge, she’d be on his radar. When she surfaced across the bay at the Powell Street BART station, the guys had no doubt there would be eyes all over her.
“You ready?” Flynn asked.
Izzy nodded. She didn’t tell him she was so nervous she could barely swallow or that she was terrified of going into the club without him beside her. It would only upset him and knowing Flynn, he’d pull the plug despite it being the exact opposite of what she wanted.
The drive was tucked securely in her bra and the belly button ring Maddox had given her to switch out with the little crystal one she wore was her “wire.” They would be able to hear everything going on around her. If she ran into trouble? Her code word was vodka.
“It’s undetectable if they sweep you, and because you’re known to wear a belly button ring, this shouldn’t raise suspicion,” Maddox had told her when he gave it to her.
“There are two dozen undercover personnel inside the club, and we’ll be in the next building, at the Red Door, with our ears on,” Justin assured her.
“How can you hear in there? ” she asked. It was another strip club.
Justin grinned. “OSHA shut them down for violations this morning.”
“How coincidental,” Flynn said dryly.
“The long arm of the law reaches far,” Justin said.
Izzy looked between all three men. “You can do that? Just shut down a business for investigative purposes?”
“They were in violation of several building and safety codes. The building has been ‘condemned’ until further notice,” Maddox said. “All of it legit.”
Izzy pursed her lips, amazed at what they were able to accomplish. It gave her the boost of confidence she needed. If she ran into trouble, the cavalry was next door, and two dozen more cops and agents would be inside.
Flynn leaned across the console pulling her toward him. “You got this, baby.” He kissed her hard. Not a lingering I-may-never-see-you-again kiss. It was a hurry-the-hell-up-so-we-can-get-on-with-our-lives kiss.
Izzy appreciated that. Grabbing her bag from the backseat, she let herself out and didn’t look over her shoulder. Because Flynn was right, she had this.
Flynn stepped on it. Pink would beat him across the bay. There were cops on the platform, on the train, and one would be sitting beside her and she wouldn’t even realize it. It was Flynn’s deal-breaker condition: A man on her every step of the way.
He called in. “UC en route,” he said.
He made it across the bridge and into the parking lot adjacent to the Red Door in record time. Every minute that ticked by, Flynn’s muscles tightened more. By the time he strode down the alley and into the condemned building, Flynn was on pins and needles.
Pink had just made her way onto the bus that would stop half a block from the club.
He put a set of ears on and wished he could talk to her. Tell her how proud of her he was and how much he loved her.
His heart stumbled when he realized she was humming “Earned It.”
The air brakes of the bus signaled its stop.
“Getting off the bus, boys, and headed to the club,” she said, and then resumed humming their song.
Her cell phone rang.
“What, Andre?” she answered, irritated.
Flynn looked to Justin.
Andre’s voice came through loud and clear. “Boris say you come meet at his house now.”
Flynn stood up so suddenly the chair hit the floor.
“That’s not going to work for me, Andre,” Izzy said.
“You want raise, you go,” the giant insisted.
“But if I don’t work tonight, I don’t get paid!”
“He pay for time and video.”
Flynn threw his ear buds off and said, “No fucking way,” bolting for the back door. As he opened the door, he turned to Justin and quickly said, “Call my cell and put yours on speaker. I want to hear every bit of what’s going down until I get to her.”
“We’ve got eyes and ears on her, Ryker!” Justin called, but Flynn had already tuned him out. Panic, anger, frustration, and fear collided like huge lead balls in Flynn’s gut. If Sorlov got a hold of her, she’d end up where her sister had, or worse. While Flynn didn’t have confirmation, his gut told him she’d been sold off into the white slave market. Probably chained to a wall in some sex dungeon. It was one of the reasons he had kept the news of Alex’s presumed alive status to himself, as well as any speculation to where she might be. He’d stake his reputation on his hunch.
His cell rang. “Ryker,” he answered, as he turned the corner and watched a big bald guy grab Pink and usher her into the back of a black town car. Flynn gave them the plate number. Before he could get to her, the man was in the driver’s seat and pulling away from the curb.
“Got it,” Justin said. “Our girl is keeping cool.”
Flynn pulled his ear buds from his jacket pocket and fitted them into his ears, then inserted the plug into his phone and adjusted the controller. “How much distance do we have before we start to lose transmission?” Flynn asked.
“Fifteen miles as the crow flies.”
Flynn exhaled. If they stayed within the city limits, chances were they could keep contact without having to move equipment.
His gut wrenched when Pink’s voice came through loud and clear. “Hello, Mr. B
ushnik,” she chirped. “I appreciate the ride to Mr. Sorlov’s house, but I really need to work tonight. A girl has bills to pay, ya know,” she said nonchalantly as she chomped on gum.
Flynn had parked in the adjacent lot. He jumped into his SUV and turned down O’Farrell in the same direction as the town car.
“We did not have a chance to get better acquainted last night, Wild Style,” Bushnik said suavely.
“Yeah, about that. That guy that coldcocked Andre? He’s a fed, so I wouldn’t mess with him.”
“An FBI agent?”
“Yeah.” She popped her gum. “A possessive one. If he knew I was in this car with you right now, he’d blow a gasket.”
“Is this FBI agent your boyfriend?”
“Heck no! He’s crazy. And rough. See what he did to my arms after he decked Andre?”
Flynn shook his head as he imagined Pink sliding up her shirtsleeve and showing him the makeup bruises.
“He blamed me for what Andre did.”
“How did you meet this agent?”
Pink chuckled. “I gave him a lap dance. I guess he liked it, coz I can’t shake him.”
“I was disappointed last night that you left us so abruptly. I hope that you will allow me to show you how hospitable a Russian gentleman can be.”
Flynn cringed. Then slammed his fists on the steering wheel when the town car made the light and he was stuck behind several cars at the red. Each second that ticked by was a second she moved farther away. San Francisco was a congested labyrinth of narrow one-way streets. His best bet was keeping the town car in sight. Hopefully Pink would remember to give them verbal clues to assist with her location.
“That will depend on how my meeting with Mr. Sorlov goes.”
“Perhaps I can ensure your success.”
“Oh. You can do that?”
“I can do many things.”
“I’m confused, I thought you were an out-of-town relative of Boris’s.”
The Russian laughed. “Often things are not as they appear. Take you, for example.”
“Me?”
“You are like a fresh breeze in a smoky bar. A fish, as you Americans like to say, out of water. I think you are far more intelligent than you let on. Why is that?”