by Karin Tabke
Chapter Forty
The terror in Isa’s voice would have enraged most men, causing them to charge like a fireman into a burning house. It had the opposite effect on Flynn. It calmed him. Gave him the laser focus he needed to destroy the threat and retrieve the single most important thing in his life. The one thing he’d gladly walk into a bullet for.
All his years of training had prepared him for this moment. Failure was not an option.
He drove past the residence, noting the beefy bald driver on the porch and the sleek black town car out front. Pulling over, three houses up, he advised the task force, “Three-story red brick with the town car.”
“Hold your position until backup are on scene! I repeat, hold your position!” Justin ordered.
There was no time to wait, Bushnik would be coming out the front door with Pink any minute and once they left the house, it would be more difficult to control the situation. Flynn was going in.
He tucked the cell into his breast pocket without responding, but kept the ear buds in place, continuing to receive critical intel via Pink’s transmissions. Flynn knew she was terrified, he wished there was a way to calm her without giving his position away but that wasn’t possible.
Turning off the SUV, Flynn reached up and turned the dome light switch off. He opened the car door, got out, and then quietly eased the door almost closed. Crouching, he moved around to the front of the vehicle on the sidewalk side and observed the house. The driver hadn’t moved.
Maintaining a low profile, Flynn hugged the neatly manicured hedges and fences of the quiet residential street, careful not to trip over the few newspapers littering the sidewalk as he made his way just in front of Boris’s home. The big driver held the high ground on the small porch atop a wide stairway. Flynn quickly devised a little neighborhood shock-and-awe plan.
Backpedaling, he retrieved one of the newspapers, and then advanced on the brick house. Tossing the paper to the far side of Boris’s yard, Flynn momentarily distracted the driver’s gaze and rushed the porch. Taking the steps two at a time, Flynn ascended to the next to last step as the man spun to meet him and lunged forward. Lowering his shoulder and propelling himself forward, Flynn collided with the hefty man mid-thigh and, thrusting upward, flipped him over his back and onto the stairs. He could hear the thuds as the body rolled down to the sidewalk behind him.
Grimacing, Flynn rotated his banged-up shoulder as he turned to observe the still body of the driver sprawled out cold across the pavement below. The cavalry rounded the corner. There was no time to wait.
Pulling his pistol from his waist holster, Flynn crouched and slowly opened the front door.
He was immediately met with gunfire. Dropping to the floor, Flynn rolled, shooting one of Bushnik’s bodyguards, and then the other.
Isa’s screams alerted him to her position. Looking past the still bodies, down the hallway next to the staircase, he saw Bushnik dragging her, kicking and screaming, behind him.
“Bushnik!” Flynn yelled, standing and rushing past the dead guards, giving chase. “Let her go and I let you go!”
The Russian moved faster, dragging Pink with him. Flynn hurried after them. As he reached the end of the hall, the unmistakable sound of automatic machinegun fire erupted, bullets tearing into the wood and plaster of the wall and molding to Flynn’s right.
Ducking back around the edge of the stairway, Flynn waited for Bushnik to either reload or keep moving.
“Let me go, you Russian asshole!” Pink screamed. “Or I’m going to bring hell down on you!”
Gun at the ready, finger on the trigger, Flynn flew down the now-empty hall and rounded the corner, only to find himself alone in an unlit kitchen.
“Bushnik have no place to go now,” Andre the Giant said from behind Flynn.
Flynn spun around so quickly, he slammed into the wall behind him. Arms extended in a double grip, he looked down the barrel at the giant Russian.
“Hands up, now! Let me see your hands!” Flynn commanded.
“No gun,” Andre said, lifting his hands for Flynn to see. The giant looked past him to the doorway.
“How do you know Bushnik has no way out?” Flynn asked.
Andre casually stepped past Flynn and led him through the dark kitchen to the back door, where he looked out. “Is big yard, but no way out. Stairs to basement under porch. Basement walled off. No out. I think Bushnik go there, da?” Andre’s meaty paw crossed in front of Flynn as he motioned to the door.
“Why should I trust you?” Flynn asked, not lowering his gun.
“Bushnik kill Boris. Boris was friend.” His eyes narrowed. “I like your Pink lady, too.”
“Put your hands on top of your head and slowly walk back to the front door. Don’t open the door. Wait for the cops to do it and follow their orders. Do whatever they say or they’ll shoot you,” Flynn directed.
“Sure,” Andre said, placing his hands on top of his head and slowly padded his way out of the kitchen.
Flynn peered into the backyard through the curtains of the window next to the door as he listened for any clues from Pink. She was eerily silent. Dropping down, he slowly opened the door and listened. It was quiet. Deadly quiet. Unlacing his shoes, he removed them and set them aside as he crept onto the porch. Scanning left, then right, then left again, he made his way out.
The enclosed backyard was large with high shrubs bordering the walls and a large spruce tree dead center. Decorative benches and potted plants punctuated the area. Flynn noted the height of the walls and realized Andre had been right. With no adequate hiding place in the yard, Bushnik would have taken Pink down the basement stairwell.
Flynn descended the stairs and looked for the basement access. Locating the well, he moved into position and took a quick peek. Moving back to safety, he processed what he’d seen in the darkness. A steep stairwell leading to a door.
Another swift glance confirmed his initial assessment. Gun first, Flynn entered the stairwell and slowly took it one silent step at a time.
Above him in the distance, Flynn heard the muffled order “Get down on your knees!” being shouted at Andre.
Reaching the bottom of the damp stairwell, Flynn noted the broken windowpane and wished he had left his shoes on. In a crouch position, he inched the door open and scanned what he could of the expansive room. Old furniture, the furnace, and stacked cardboard boxes competed for space. Too many hiding places.
Once again, motionless, he listened.
Only the low hum of the furnace disturbed the silence.
Moving to the hinged side of the door, avoiding the broken shards of glass, Flynn entered the room.
He waited momentarily, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The LED control panel of the furnace gave off an eerie illumination that helped him navigate the room.
“I have the girl,” Bushink abruptly announced, deep in the darkness. “I will not hesitate to kill her.”
Moving sideways to slide behind a large armoire, Flynn called back, “There’s no way out, Bushnik. Give it up while you still can. There’s no reason for anyone, yourself included, to die tonight.”
As he spoke, Flynn covertly adjusted his position to the other side of the armoire. He could just hear Bushnik and Pink’s last movement to the right of him under the noise of his reply.
Pink’s muffled warning under Bushnik’s hand was enough to clue Flynn in that Bushnik was moving them closer, into the dim light of the furnace to his right.
“I don’t plan on dying tonight, Special Agent.” The Russian laughed arrogantly and asked, “Can you live with the death of your girl?”
The soles of Bushnik’s shoes and Pink’s heels shuffled closer to the furnace. Flynn could barely make out the top of the Russian’s head. Just a few more feet and he would be able to see them more clearly. And take his shot. Flynn raised his weapon, using both hands for optimal control, aimed it toward the furnace, and waited.
Long minutes dragged out. The only sound was his heartbea
t in his ears and Pink’s muffled cries.
He needed a distraction. Something to divert their attention from his position, while pushing Bushnik into the light. His eyes fully adjusted now, Flynn could better make out his surroundings.
He quietly opened the flaps of a nearby carton and reached inside. Books! Perfect. Lifting one from the box, he placed it on the floor, and then slid it across the room to his left.
Bushnik moved away from the sound and into the light, where Flynn could clearly see that Pink was being held in front of the bastard as a human shield. Bushnik’s left hand was wrapped around her mouth, and her body was pressed against him by his forearm and elbow across her chest.
His gun hand was extended over Pink’s right shoulder, gripping an AK as he moved it from left to right and back again, waiting for an opportunity to light Flynn up.
With Pink covered as she was, and the light quality poor, it was impossible for Flynn to take a shot.
Heavy footsteps moved across the kitchen floor above. Andre must have pointed the team in his direction.
Time had become critical. The open door and the stairwell behind it were a fatal kill zone from Bushnik’s position. Any returned fire would hit Pink first.
Leaping to his feet, Flynn took a two-handed grip on his gun and aiming at the Russian, shouted, “It’s over, Bushnik! Let her go, now!”
Unflappable, Bushink shook his head. “Drop your gun or I kill her first, you second.” The Russian was cool, calm, and collected. Flynn was anything but.
“No deal. Give it up.”
“Then say good bye to your lovely gift.”
Flynn could barely make out Pink’s shoulder dipping from the sudden increased pressure of Bushnik’s extended arm.
Stay still, baby!
Unexpectedly, she bit the hand over her mouth and when Bushnik instinctively pulled it away, freeing her arms, she reached up with both hands, her left pushing the gun away while her right grasped Bushnik’s forearm. The gun exploded and the muzzle flash temporarily blinded Flynn. Then Flynn heard the telltale sound of metal clicking repeatedly on metal: Bushnik’s gun was jammed.
Blinking, trying to focus, Flynn started for Isa. With both of her hands now firmly gripping Bushnik’s extended arm, Pink gave it a sharp downward yank atop her shoulder. The snap of bone followed by Bushnik’s scream of pain was the sweetest sound Flynn had heard that day.
Isa shoved the screaming Russian away from her, running straight to Flynn, who quickly passed her off in the direction of the door as the team stormed down the stairs.
Flynn strode toward the furious, disabled Russian. Bushnik dropped the AK and went for the gun tucked in his waistband. Flynn kicked it out of his hand, then kicked him in the chest, forcing him back into the wall, which he hit with a loud thud and a curse.
“Hands over your head and down on your knees.”
Without a word, Bushnik attempted to comply. But his right arm hung at an unnatural angle and it was impossible. “On your stomach. Arms and legs spread,” Flynn commanded.
The Russian cursed loudly in his native tongue as he slowly complied. Flynn took great satisfaction in the fact that the Russian groaned loudly in pain as he assumed the position.
“You should have taken that tiny dancer at her word when she said she’d bring hell down on you,” Flynn said, shaking his head, amazed by her act.
“Only I know where Jasmyn is. And I will never tell,” Bushnik promised.
Flynn squatted down in front of him and said, “If you know what’s good for you, Miroslav, you’ll tell me right now where she is.”
“What is good for me is my lawyer.”
“You don’t have the same rights as me, Bushnik,” Flynn said, then nodded to Maddox who moved past Flynn and with no compassion for the man’s broken arm, hooked him up.
When Flynn turned around, he found Justin trying unsuccessfully to keep Pink from heading back into the fray.
“Let me go to him, Justin!” she shrieked, shoving at him.
“Isa,” Flynn said softly.
She turned and screamed his name, tearing herself loose from Justin and catapulting her body into his.
He caught her to him, hugging her tightly.
“Thank God!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him as his tightened around her.
“It’s over, baby. All over. You’re safe,” he whispered, unable to get her body close enough to his. “Never gonna let you go,” he rasped. “Never gonna let you go.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Flynn bent his head and kissed them away, trying hard to keep the sting of moisture in his eyes from showing.
“Flynn,” she sobbed. “I was so afraid I was never going to see you again. That I was going to be gone forever, and Bushnik’s thugs were going to kill you, and—” She kissed him, their tears mingling. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said trying to soothe her fears.
“Did he tell you where Alex is?” she asked, hope lighting up her face.
Shaking his head, Flynn said, “No, but once he understands he’s never leaving this country, he’ll offer information to knock years off his sentence.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her close. “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, baby, but know Justin won’t go easy on him. And we’re still looking. We’ll never stop looking.”
“I need to speak to my father,” she said against his chest. “I want to look him in the eye when he tells me he doesn’t know what happened to her. I want to see how he reacts, because I have this bad feeling he’s somehow involved in all of this.”
“We’ll do it together.”
Isa looked up at him, love beaming in her eyes. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“You’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”
Her lips broke into a bright smile. “I was hoping you would say that too.”
Flynn hugged her tightly to his chest. Adrenaline pumped through his body. That had been too damn close.
“I’m proud of you, baby, you kept your cool, gave us good info so we could keep you in our sights, and then broke Bushnik down.” He pulled away and looked down at her. “Where did you learn that over the shoulder move?”
“Kick boxing,” she said like it was no big deal.
“You really are a bad ass.”
Raising her lips to his, she said, “Don’t you forget it.”
Epilogue
Four weeks later
“She’s beautiful,” Izzy whispered, leaning into Flynn as they stood.
He smiled down at her, his fingertips brushing pink strands of her bangs from her adoring eyes. It was a simple gesture, but a reverent one. Flynn said more with that gentle touch than any words could ever convey. “You’re right,” he smiled, “You are.”
Nudging him with her elbow, she inclined her head toward the beaming bride as she walked down the aisle on Simon’s arm.
“The bride.”
“I only have eyes for you.”
Izzy rolled her eyes. But his answer pleased her.
Since the night they’d met, when the boys had tried giving the groom one last chance of freedom, her life had changed irrevocably.
The fairy tale continued.
Her Prince Charming was dressed in a sharp black suit, crisp white shirt, and pink paisley tie. His new favorite color. He wore it often. He smelled clean and fresh like the ocean that roared softly in the background. His handsome face and loving eyes focused solely on her. He had not let her out of his sight since that terrible night she had learned her sister’s fate.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Liar. A shadow just passed across your face.”
“I was thinking of Alex.”
Squeezing her hand, he nodded. He understood. She worried about her sister a lot.
When Simon and the bride approached the handsome groom and the very pregnant smiling matron of honor, Izzy sighed. It was all so perfect.
Jack and Stevie, whom she had met several times over the last month along with Simon and his lovely wife Kat, seemed to have it all. They had embraced her with warm friendship, the guys teasing her about turning Flynn into a flamingo because of his newfound love of Pink.
All her worries that the ladies would look down their noses at her evaporated the first time she met Kat and Stevie at a small, intimate, spa day bridal shower in the city. She was shocked by the invitation, knowing it was only because she and Flynn were a couple that she was included.
“Go, Isa,” Flynn had encouraged her. “Stevie is a pistol and Kat’s the sweetest genius you’ll ever meet.”
Izzy knew that if she were going to really be a part of Flynn’s life, she would have to get over her issues with his friend’s wives.
When she walked into the glamorous spa, she was shown to a private dressing room where she was served champagne and given a silk-lined robe to change into.
Ten minutes later, Izzy was escorted into a lovely room with fountains and the laughter of several women who were stretched out on massage tables, drinking champagne. Except Kat, who reclined in a big fluffy chair, sipping water, her feet up on a padded ottoman.
“Isadora!” Kat chirped happily. “I’m so glad you joined us. Hop on a table, the massages here are wonderful.”
As she did, Stevie raised her champagne glass and smiled. “I’m happy you’re here.” Then she introduced her to the four other ladies, and just like that, Izzy became one of the girls.
Now she stood beside the man of her dreams at a lovely coastal wedding, surrounded by the men and women he worked with, feeling like she belonged.
As they sat at the minister’s command, Flynn’s fingers wove between hers. They couldn’t get enough of each other. Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually.
They were so into each other, they started apart when the minister cheerfully proclaimed, “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”
The guest list was small, maybe forty, but the cheers that went up sounded as if hundreds were in attendance.
Jack bent Stevie over his arm, and kissed her long and hard. So long and hard, the guys started drumming on the back of the chairs, calling for them to get a room. Izzy laughed at their revelry. When the newly married couple broke apart and Stevie fanned herself with both hands and rolled her eyes, the cheers were even louder.