Riding High

by Stacy Finz

  He held his position, listening. Nothing; not a sound. Panic struck. What if they were somewhere else on the property and he couldn’t get to them in time? Soundlessly, he crept into the kitchen and found it clear. That was when he saw coffee splattered across the center island and a cup smashed to bits on the floor.

  He pulled the Glock from the small of his back and skulked along the wall to the dining room, silently cursing the size of the house. It was reckless doing this without backup, but Flynn couldn’t afford to wait. Not until he knew whether Gia was all right.

  Halfway there, he heard something crash.

  “That was fun.”

  Flynn’s gut tightened. It was a man’s voice and it sounded like it was coming from the family room. As he edged closer, the voice grew louder.

  “You try that shit again and I’ll make you watch while my associate kills your mother.”

  “Like you killed Rufus Cleo?” It was Gia, out of breath.

  “That’s what you get when you try to double-cross me. The bastard hijacked the money . . . thought he could keep it all for himself. You should’ve seen him when I confronted him . . . begged for his life, crying like a baby.”

  “So he was in on it?”

  Good girl, Gia. Flynn crawled across the floor on his belly like a ghost, not even daring to breathe. Keep him talking until I can get to you.

  The man—by now Flynn knew it was Laughlin—laughed. “Why do you think I suggested you sit on the board of his foundation? Cleo actually thought you were involved. He thought you were the one hooking the big fish.”

  “Why, Evan?” Gia asked. “Why me?”

  “Your big television name, the syndicated column, the books. You gave me credibility, got me into a lot of closed circles, and you weren’t half bad in bed.”

  Flynn clenched his teeth. He was gonna kill the son of a bitch.

  “In the beginning I was tempted to cut you in,” Laughlin said as Flynn inched nearer, hiding behind a pony wall that connected the dining area to the great room.

  He inched up his head for a mere second and caught a glimpse of them on the couch. Laughlin held a Beretta inches away from Gia’s chest and Flynn’s heart lurched. The problem was he couldn’t go any farther, not without exposing himself, and he was still a good six yards away. He gripped his semiautomatic tighter, his finger on the trigger.

  “Your weakness is you’re too damn honest,” Laughlin continued. “Too satisfied to earn a living when you could be sitting on a sandy beach on your own island.”

  “You disgust me.”

  “Yeah, I’m crying all the way to the bank. ’Tis a pity you’re such a Goody Two-shoes because you’re taking the blame anyway.” Laughlin glanced at his watch. “We’ve gotta go now. And Gia, you pull another stunt like you did with the rifle and I’ll make you pay.”

  The Winchester. Flynn smiled, but it was short-lived as Laughlin got to his feet and pulled Gia up by the collar of her shirt.

  “We’re taking your car. Get your keys.” He jabbed the semiautomatic in her back and it was all Flynn could do to keep from jumping up and breaking the guy’s neck.

  Gia led Laughlin to her bedroom. Flynn knew her car keys were in her purse, which she typically left on the nightstand. As they started down the long hallway, he quietly jetted back through the kitchen and mudroom, went outside, and plastered himself against the side of the house. He slowly made his way to Gia’s French doors, his back hugging the exterior as if he was one with the building. A light came on in the bedroom. Flynn hunkered down, gathered up a handful of pebbles, and hurled them at the glass.

  “What’s that?” Laughlin asked, and Flynn saw him press his face against a window screen to search the area.

  Flynn tightened himself against the wall, sweat soaking through his shirt. On the ground he collected a few more pebbles and repeated the exercise. This time he threw them harder, making enough noise to rouse a heavy sleeper.

  Laughlin unlocked the doors and stepped out wary and alert, holding Gia like a human shield. One-handed, he swept the air with his pistol. “Who’s out here?”

  It was exactly the idiotic move Flynn had expected. He tucked and rolled into Laughlin’s shins so that his knees buckled. Before Laughlin could right himself and maintain his balance Gia wrenched free of him. Once she was out of range Flynn jumped to his feet and slammed Laughlin’s arm against the wall until he heard a sharp crack. Laughlin let out a piercing scream and dropped the Beretta.

  Flynn shoved the muzzle of his Glock into Laughlin’s gut. “It’s over, asshole.”

  * * *

  Sleepless, Gia climbed the staircase. It was past midnight and by the time the agents and police had left, her nervous system was on overdrive. Still, she couldn’t seem to close her eyes. Every time she did she saw Evan with his gun trained on her or her mother bound and gagged in a chair.

  The FBI had arrested the man Evan had paid to hold Iris hostage. She’d been rushed to an area hospital. Though her injuries weren’t serious—dehydration and abrasions on her hands and feet where she’d been bound with tape and rope—doctors thought it would be best to observe her overnight. Thank goodness Toad was still in Florida. He’d driven the forty-six miles from Miami to Boca Raton to stay by her bedside. In a day or so he’d escort her to California. Gia needed her close for a while.

  Upstairs she found Flynn’s room and tapped on the door. He opened it so fast she nearly fell in. Still dressed in the same jeans and T-shirt from before, he ushered her inside.

  “You can’t sleep either?”

  “I can sleep,” he said. “I was worried about you.”

  She would’ve said she was fine, but clearly she wasn’t. “I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Gia pierced him with an are-you-for-real look. “You saved my mother and me.”

  He moved to the bed and sat on the edge where Gia joined him. “I wanted to kill him, Gia. When I saw him holding the Beretta on you . . .” Flynn stopped, as if he was reliving it all over again.

  He’d been so calm among the agents earlier, but now she could feel anger thrumming through him.

  “You okay?” He ran his hand down her back, then seemed to think better of it.

  “I’m still a little freaked out.”

  “You pulled the Winchester on him, huh?” He tilted his head and smiled at her.

  “I tried. It worked on you after all.”

  “Yep.” He held her gaze like he wanted to say he was proud of her—and something else. But the look quickly vanished and he was back to business again. “The U.S. Attorney’s office is dropping the charges against you. Prosecutors seized Tiffany Cleo’s account. The justice department plans to hold a press conference tomorrow to announce Laughlin’s arrest and to clear your name.”

  “Will the victims get their money back?”

  He nodded. “Not all of it . . . Laughlin and Cleo led lavish lifestyles. But Tim thinks there’s enough so that investors will get ninety cents on the dollar, which is a whole lot better than nothing. You too, which should help with your property taxes on this place . . . the tree farm and your program. Unless you want to go back to New York. This’ll restore your public image.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” she said and took a deep breath. It was over. Truly over. “Without charges hanging over my head I can fully focus on the program. The neighbors are on board—at least the women.” She looked at him. He could use a shave, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. To Gia he’d never been more handsome . . . or more desirable.

  “Flynn”—she drew back—“why did you put your property up for my bond? Why would you do something like that?”

  Gia had learned that bit of surprising information from one of the prosecutors who’d come to the scene. Until then she’d been kept in the dark about Flynn’s generosity, which seemed above and beyond for a lawyer to do for his client. It was even too much for a close friend to do.

  “Because yours a
lone wasn’t enough. Prosecutors were planning to eventually amend the charges to include conspiracy in Cleo’s murder. There’s no bail for murder. Knowing that the charge was imminent made you a high-flight risk. I figured that if I financially vouched for you, it would secure the bond . . . at least until they added the murder count.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you until I knew for sure whether the feds were bluffing . . . using conspiracy to commit murder as yet another threat to get you to tell them where Laughlin was.”

  She swallowed; the shadow of spending the rest of her life in prison still made her tremble. “Why would you risk your property like that?”

  He drew back as if she’d slapped him. “Because I love you. I didn’t want to see you spend a second more in that shithole. You think real estate is more important to me than you are?”

  Because I love you.

  The words left her speechless. When had he begun loving her?

  “I thought you were embarrassed of me . . . the charges, the incarceration, my past relationship with Evan. When I was arrested you were so businesslike, so cold.”

  He jerked his hand through his messy hair. “Gia, I was trying to get you out of jail. I was going a little crazy.... Fifty freaking years in prison, not to mention the charge of conspiracy to commit murder hanging over you. Sorry if I didn’t have time to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Is that why you bolted? Jesus Christ.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said, a world of regret in her voice. “I thought you’d be better off without me. We’d only just fooled around and I didn’t want to ruin you the way Evan had ruined me. I thought it would be best if you were strictly my lawyer.”

  “Best for whom? We didn’t just fool around; I took you home to my family, Gia. Your problem is you don’t trust. I don’t want to share a bank account with another person. I don’t want to make financial decisions by committee. I don’t want to be dependent on someone else.” He spat her words back at her with anger.

  “I’m not your goddamn father and I’m definitely not that dirtbag piece of shit Laughlin,” he continued. “In fact, I’m no longer your lawyer. You’re free now . . . do whatever the hell you want.”

  It was a dismissal, pure and simple.

  She got up off the bed. “I was wrong, Flynn. I was only trying to protect you.” And me. Because compared to Evan the damage you could do to my heart would be irreparable. I’d be broken forever.

  Her throat tightened, but she needed to say it. “I love you too, Flynn. So much that I would do anything for you.” Even shield him from herself.

  Afraid that he’d tell her to go to hell, she didn’t wait for a response. She left the room, went downstairs, and searched through the cupboard for a drink. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s peeked out from a row of good red wine. Whiskey wasn’t her thing; it was Flynn’s. Despite it, she poured herself three fingers, hoping it would help her sleep away her mistakes and the horror of the day. God, she’d screwed up royally with Flynn, the best man she’d ever known. The only man besides her father she’d ever loved.

  She closed her eyes as the whiskey burned its way down her throat and spread warmth through her belly. A few more sips and she’d try to go bed. Gia took the glass into the great room, curled up on the couch, and scanned the former crime scene. The Winchester was missing from the wall; the police had taken it as evidence.

  The staircase creaked, she looked up, and her heart stopped.

  “Don’t ever drink alone.” Flynn came down, took her whiskey, and drained it. “More?”

  She shook her head. “I love you. Please believe me when I say I love you.”

  “But you don’t trust me, do you?”

  It should’ve been the most difficult question she’d ever had to answer. More than fifteen hours ago her ex, the man who’d sworn his everlasting love, had threatened to kill her and her mother.

  “I do,” she said and meant it from the bottom of her heart. “I trust you, Flynn. How could I not? You saved my life and everything that’s precious to me.”

  He sat at the other end of the couch. “I don’t need to share a bank account with you, Gia. But I do need us to be dependent on each other. That’s the way a true relationship works. You lean on me, I lean on you; you trust me, I trust you. For me it can’t be any other way.”

  She scooted closer to him and put her hand in his. “I think I can do that.” Leaning on anyone since her father . . . it was difficult.

  “Not ‘I think.’” He lifted her chin with his finger. “You need to say you know you can do that. It’s the only way it can work between us. When circumstances seem insurmountable, like they did with your arrest, you can’t just walk away.”

  She climbed into his lap and twined her arms around his neck. For a long time she’d been solely reliant on herself. Asking to put her faith in another person . . . well, she would’ve thought it was impossible. Until Flynn. “Do you really love me?”

  “Yes, I really love you. But I need you to say it . . . say you can lean on me. Say that when the chips are down you know I’ll always be there for you, and you for me.”

  She exhaled. It was like jumping off a very tall cliff. “I can lean on you and when the chips are down I know you’ll be there for me. I’ll always be there for you, Flynn.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She loved Flynn so much she could hardly breathe. “I can trust you and I love you so much that I’ll never give up on you again.”

  Flynn’s eyes shone with so much need and emotion that it floored her. In a rough voice he said, “You’ve said the words. Now show me. Make love to me like you mean it.”

  And there on the couch, and later in her bed, she loved him with her body . . . her heart and soul . . . well into the next day. And she’d continue to love him forever.

  Epilogue

  “The bar goes over there,” Gia told the caterers and pointed to a corner of the yard near the pool.

  She glanced at her watch. They only had an hour until the guests began arriving. Thank goodness Samantha Breyer had offered to take charge of the fund-raiser. With her expert event-planning skills everything was right on schedule.

  Donna sidled up to Gia and handed her a glass of champagne. “Chillax, girlfriend. Go spend some time with Flynn. He looks bored out of his skull.”

  He stood over by the French doors with his hands stuffed inside his suit pockets, looking sexier than any man had a right to.

  Last week every single woman at Dana’s wedding had tried to make a play for him. But he was Gia’s. As she walked toward him, his lips slid up in a grin and his eyes roamed over her little black dress.

  “It’s coming together,” he said. “Sam knows her stuff.”

  “She and Nate have invited a lot of important people with deep pockets. Griffin has already committed a nice chunk of change and Tawny donated a pair of custom boots for the silent auction.” She let out a breath. If this went well they’d have plenty of money to finance the program and her new foundation, which, at everyone’s urging, she’d turned into a nonprofit.

  “Today Clay, Rhys, and the rest of the board narrowed down the first group of women,” she told Flynn, brimming with excitement. Everything she’d ever wanted was coming true. “For now we’re focusing on California residents, but I’m hoping to eventually broaden our reach.”

  They both turned when Iris came out of the house dressed to the nines. Flynn met her at the door and gave her his arm. Gia’s heart expanded watching Flynn with her mother like that.

  “You look beautiful, Mom.” Gia grabbed another glass of champagne and handed it to Iris.

  “So do you, dear.” Iris straightened Flynn’s tie. “The two of you make a gorgeous couple. Oh look, there’s Patty.” She drifted off to greet Flynn’s mother. No doubt they would spend the evening plotting.

  “Your mom wants to teach a class on beekeeping,” she said. “And Jo has volunteered to help keep the Iris Foundation’s books. Don’t you think that’
s great?”

  “I think you’re great.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

  “Oh, Flynn, so many people have volunteered.... I’m just amazed at how everyone is suddenly embracing the program.”

  “I’m not. It’s the right thing to do and it was just a matter of time before the lug heads”—he hitched his head at Clay and Rhys, who’d come early to help with the setup—“accepted the idea. And it sure didn’t hurt that their wives were on your side. I’ve never seen two men more whipped.”

  Gia slapped Flynn’s arm playfully. “Stop it. You see Emily? She’s starting to show a tiny bit.”

  “Hadn’t noticed. I only have eyes for you.”

  “Pouring it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

  Annie waved from across the yard. Not surprisingly, she’d started hanging out with Harlee and Darla. Gia was glad she’d found friends and adored having her live on the ranch. As for Harlee, her profile on Gia had come out this morning, perfectly timed for the fund-raiser. That had been Maddy’s idea. Pretty brilliant, Gia had to admit. The story, which included news about Gia’s new Iris Foundation, had been picked up by the Associated Press and printed in every major publication.

  “What did I say about trust, Gia?” Flynn’s hands glided up the back of her dress.

  “Quit it. People will see.”

  He laughed and raised his brows. “Later, then.”

  “You’re bad.” She laughed. So starry-eyed over him, her head was in the clouds most days. “I have something to ask you.”

  “Yeah?” He tugged her close. “What’s that?”

  “Will you be the Iris Foundation’s lawyer?”

  “That depends. Will you be my wife?”

  Gia nearly choked on her champagne. “Are you proposing?”

  He pulled a ring box out of his jacket and got down on one knee. “Yep. I love you, Gia. We can have a long engagement, but just say yes.”

  “Yes! Yes!” Before she could tell him how much she loved him the crowd broke into applause. Her eyes filled with tears as she scanned the group. Her neighbors, her friends, her and Flynn’s families, they were all gathered around them. “You planned this, didn’t you?”