Текст книги "In a Bad Way"
Автор книги: Karin Tabke
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Chapter Seventeen
Flynn literally flew across the Bay Bridge, the late-morning traffic lull in his favor. Putting his foot to the metal, he roared into the city. Silently he thanked the heavens for the unfettered path to Pink. She had no idea the danger she was in. After his conversation with Justin earlier, Flynn knew that if he didn’t get her out of the club and keep her out, she was going to end up in the black abyss of the sex slave market. In all probability, it was what had happened to Alexandra Chastain. It wasn’t going to happen to her sister. Not on his watch.
Knowing he’d get push back from Pink, he had a Plan B. He didn’t like it, but it was his only option short of kidnapping her and holding her hostage. Which he thought, if he could get away with it, might not be such a bad idea.
Focus on the mission, not the woman, he told himself.
White-knuckled, he expertly navigated the city streets. Purposely he kept his mind clear of all things Pink and bubble gum. Purposely he kept the fact that they were worlds apart from his thoughts. Purposely he tried not to remember the sigh of her breath as he entered her and the warm rush of it against his cheek. He couldn’t stop thinking of her when everything reminded him of her.
Downshifting, he cursed, taking the turn too tight. Quickly he made the adjustment and upshifted angrily.
Every memory of Isadora Fuentes infused him. If he were chained inside of a jail cell, he’d feel less imprisoned. The urge to take her into his arms and whisk her away from her life and into his bed was becoming unendurable. Since the death of his mother, Flynn could not remember being in such a dark place.
He felt blindsided. She’d gotten to him, damn it. His reaction to her had left him vulnerable and unsure, two emotions he refused to allow power over him. He needed to find a way to purge her from his system.
As he sped into the parking lot behind Surf’s Up, he caught a flash of pink and blond hair slipping behind the metal back door.
“Christ,” he cursed, throwing the car into park. He hurried out and headed to the back of the club. When he grasped the handle to open the door, it didn’t budge.
Moving around to the other side of the lot, he saw a beat-up silver Nissan parked in the Reserved For Management spot. He highly doubted that Andre the Giant or Boris Sorlov drove a crappy economy car. He called SFPD dispatch, identified himself, and had them run the plate. It came back as belonging to a Sherry Lauler. Forty-nine, five foot five, one sixty, San Fran resident.
Letting out a long breath, Flynn strode back to the metal door Pink had slipped behind, leaned against the wall near the corner, crossed his arms, and waited. Five minutes. That was all he was going to give her. If she wasn’t out, he was going in.
Several minutes later, the door opened back toward him, hiding him from whoever opened it. Not realizing he was standing there, Pink strode away from him, toward the street. Her bubble gum scent fucking with his testosterone.
“You know, for your line of work you really should be more aware of your surroundings,” he said as he unwound himself and walked toward her.
Pink jumped, turned, and screamed all at the same time. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. The color drained from her cheeks.
“Damn it, Pink, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, hurrying toward her. Make a point yes, terrify no.
Putting her hand out in a Stop position, she shook her head and damn if there weren’t tears in her eyes. “Don’t come any closer,” she said, her soft breathless voice killing him with its hurt. “Please, leave me alone.” She backed up, then turned and ran toward the street.
“Isa!” he called, following. “What the hell’s wrong?”
Shaking her head, she kept moving away from him.
“Talk to me, damn it!”
She stopped in her tracks. He stopped, too. Ten feet separated them. He watched the rapid rise and fall of her shoulders and knew she was fighting back emotion. He hated himself at that moment for scaring her.
Slowly, she turned and faced him. God, she was beautiful. She took his breath away. The breeze ruffled her soft hair, her big sea green eyes so full of emotion, they chipped away at him. Her full pink lips trembled slightly and that killer body of hers stood rigid with pride. She was dressed in a pair of low-slung black jeans that were stylishly distressed with thin cuts across the thighs and knees. The long-sleeved pink shirt she wore embraced her curves in a soft, flattering way, exposing one creamy shoulder. Self-consciously she pushed the sleeves down as if to protect herself from what he was sure his face and body language screamed it wanted. Her pink toes peeked out from the wedge sandals she wore. She looked good enough to eat.
“I don’t like you, Flynn Ryker. You’re a mean elitist who doesn’t keep his word.” Taking a deep breath, she continued. “You hurt me. I don’t want to see you ever again.” She took a step toward him. “Do you understand that?”
His heart thudded hard against his ribcage. He nodded. “Yes.”
“Good,” she choked back, then turned, and continued toward the street.
She was hurt and she was pissed; no way was she going listen to anything he had to say when it came to her personally. Go directly to Plan B. “I kept my word about helping you find Alex,” he called. “That’s why I’m here.”
She stopped again. His heart slammed painfully against his chest as he strode toward her. “There are some people I want you to meet,” he said, his voice quieter.
“What kind of people?” she asked without turning around.
Flynn stopped an arm’s length behind her. If he got closer, her body heat would lure him into her spell. “The kind that can help you find your sister.”
She turned around, eyeing him warily. “Really?”
Tension tightened his muscles as if he could repel all of the things about her that drew him to her. He didn’t like it, but damn it, at least with the task force involved, she’d be safe if she wouldn’t listen to reason. Though Flynn knew she wouldn’t. Not until she found her sister.
“Yeah, really.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Where are these people?”
“At the Federal Building.”
Raising her chin, she said, “I’m just a lowly cocktailer who flashed your buddies, Flynn, why did you change your mind?”
“I gave you my word.” And it had become personal to him.
“Do you really want to introduce me to your friends? Aren’t you afraid I’ll taint them? Taint your reputation?”
“Stop it,” he bit off.
“Have any of these people seen my boobs?”
“Yes, damn it, and I don’t like it.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because your safety is important to me.”
“A strip club server’s safety is important to a society man like you?”
“Stop it, damn it! You’re not some piece of trash.”
“I’m glad you finally realize that, Flynn.”
Her words sucked the fight out of him. She was right. He was an asshole. Extending his hand toward the other side of the parking lot to his car, he said, “If you’ll accept a ride from me, we can go now.”
“Okay, Flynn,” she exhaled, her voice shaky. “But that’s all. You stay away from me afterward.” When she stalked past him, he stood rooted to the ground, as he allowed her scent to die away and her words to penetrate.
His request to officially join the task force had been denied, which meant, once he handed her over to the task force, there would be no official need for him to see her. The thought of that didn’t sit well with him.
As she moved to the passenger side of the car, and he still hadn’t moved, she turned to look at him. “Do I have to drive myself?”
Shaking his head, he said, “No way.” And headed toward her.
As she slid into the car and got situated, Flynn closed the door behind her. Get her in and out, then take her home and get the hell out of Dodge.
As he put the key into the ignition, she shot him a questioning look. “No way as in you don’t think I could drive this baby, or no way, I’m ego man so I have to drive?”
“No way, as in you don’t have a driver’s license.”
“How’d you know that?”
He grinned. “FBI.”
“You looked me up!”
Putting the car into gear, he backed up, made a sharp turn, and headed for the street. “Of course I did. That’s my job.”
“Your job is to look up every woman you have sex with?”
“No, my job is to look up every woman who tries to drug me for blackmail purposes.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she huffed back into the seat.
“You Googled me,” he said calling her out. “Turnabout is fair play.”
“Whatever.”
Flynn grinned again, happy they were back to a more amicable tone. “You look cute when you pout.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed and turned onto O’Farrell.
“Who are these people we’re going to see at the Federal Building?”
“All you need to know is that I’m introducing you to a group of individuals who, through their efforts in another arena, may be able to help you locate your sister.”
“Your FBI buddies?”
“I can’t tell you too much, Pink, so don’t ask.”
“Why not? I admitted trying to drug you and why. I told you about my sister.”
He glanced at her, all humor gone. “Because if you were tortured or beaten into revealing sensitive information, lives could be lost.”
“Who would torture or beat me?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“No one, if I have anything to do about it.” He meant it, too. Her continued association with the club was bullshit. “I told you, you’re working for dangerous people. I wasn’t lying. You need to allow the authorities to handle what’s going on there and stay clear of Surf’s Up.”
She shook her head vehemently.
Damn stubborn woman.
“I told you, I have an in the authorities don’t have. I won’t give up until I have Alex home safe and sound. Besides, the ‘authorities’ don’t even know to care about Alex because she hasn’t been reported missing!”
There was that. Again, it made no sense to Flynn. “Why would your father not report her missing?”
She shrugged, but answered candidly. “Probably because she’s become a blight on the Chastain name. He’s probably happy she’s not working the strip club anymore.”
“Maybe he made sure she didn’t resurface?”
Pink gasped and looked over at him, wide-eyed. “He’s up for reelection next year!” She chewed her bottom lip and shook her head. “But he loves Alex. I could understand him wanting to get rid of me, but not Alex.” As soon as she said the words, he saw the color leach from her face.
“What is it?” he urged. Something had triggered in her mind and she was obviously unwilling to share it. That meant trouble.
“I—um, I’m not sure.”
They entered an underground parking lot. Flynn badged the guard, then slid his ID card through the terminal. The metal gates swung slowly open. Driving through and up to the second level, Flynn parked in his usual spot, reserved for when he had business in the city.
As he helped Pink out of the car, her hand was trembling. The urge to pull her into his arms and tell her it was going to be okay was strong. When her body naturally gravitated to his, he reached for her. But she shook whatever it was off and pushed away from him.
“Tell me what you’re not sure about,” he quietly urged.
Her face scrunched as indecision and fear played out across her features.
“Trust me to help you,” he said softly.
Nodding, as if coming to a decision, she looked up at him, determination written all over her lovely face. “This morning at the bus stop, a white van came racing around the corner from my house, it drove up on the sidewalk, and gunned straight for me. I jumped out of the way. Right after that the bus pulled up. By then the van had circled and drove by the bus.”
With a calm he did not feel, Flynn asked, “Did you report it to the bus river?”
“Yes, he didn’t see anything. I called nine-one-one, but it just rang. By the time we got to BART, it was still ringing. I hung up and just as I did the van pulled up facing us. I made a run for the train, hoping to find a cop. But there wasn’t one to be found.”
“Did the driver come after you?”
“No, thank God.”
“Did you get a license plate? A description of the driver and the van?”
Nodding, she took her phone from her purse and showed him the pictures she’d taken from the BART train. They weren’t great, but they were good enough to determine the make and possibly the model and year. “There was no license plate, and the driver was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses.”
“Forward that to me as well as the bus route. I can have BART PD check the cameras. I think they store footage for more than twenty-four hours.” After she texted him the photo, he asked, “Has anything like this happened before?”
When she told him about the motorcycle incident and being followed home, his anger mushroomed.
Flynn said very slowly, “Did you report either of those incidents?”
“No, I just figured the motorcycle incident was bad timing on my part. As far as the guy following me, I told Andre. He said he’d keep an eye out when I left each night. It hasn’t happened again.”
“And yet, despite all of that, you went to the club today?”
“I needed my tips and I thought it might be a good chance to get into Boris’s office.”
Flynn stopped her in their tracks. Grabbed her by the arms and lowered his face to hers. “You’re a target now. If you want to stay alive, you don’t invite trouble.”
“Target?”
“Yes. Especially now that Andre lured you into committing a crime with the promise of information.”
“But I don’t have a video. He can’t prove anything.”
“He doesn’t have to, Pink. Don’t think for one minute he’s going to let you off the hook. You made a video once, he’s going to find a way to force you to make another one if you go back.”
“I have to go back. I can’t just stop what I’ve started.”
Taking her elbow, Flynn steered her toward an elevator. “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Eighteen
As they entered a conference room on the thirteenth floor, Flynn braced himself. Justin looked up from his laptop and grinned as Pink preceded him into the room. If he made one comment about her tits, Flynn was going to flatten him.
“Nice to see you again, Miss—?” he said, extending his hand as he stood.
“Fuentes,” Pink replied, extending her hand and firmly shaking his. The other men and one woman in the room looked up the minute she spoke. Her sweet breathless voice tugged at Flynn’s gut and made his dick throb. “It’s nice to see you again, too, Justin.”
Justin grinned like an idiot, looking everywhere but Pink’s chest. Inwardly, Flynn shook his head. Releasing her hand, Justin stepped back and glanced around the room. As he did, Pink stood quietly, chin up, and with a soft smile said, “Hello, boys.” Then nodded to Sonia Jackson, the only female on the task force. “Ma’am.”
Sonia’s sharp eyes flicked from Pink to Flynn, back to Pink again, before she shot an inquiring look at Flynn. They’d tangled up the sheets about a year ago. It had been one of those “letting off steam after a high-speed pursuit” kind of unions. “Jackson,” Flynn said, acknowledging her.
“Ryker,” she responded.
He felt Pink’s eyes on him and knew that if he looked down at her, she’d know. So he kept his eyes averted.
The silence that had descended around them at her greeting, and the correct assumption from the guys and Pink that Flynn and Sonia had had a fling, was louder than an explosion. Flynn had to hand it to Pink, though; she stood comfortable in her own skin as she met each man’s gaze and Sonia’s with an unwavering one of her own. One of Justin’s men, Maddox Price, who had been at the bachelor party, turned just as he was pouring a cup of coffee. His jaw dropped as he halted his action midstream. Flynn’s mood deteriorated. When Price flashed his megawatt smile, Flynn’s hands fisted.
“Hello again, Wild Style,” Price said, his voice low and gravelly. The tone left no doubt about what he was thinking.
“Miss Fuentes to you, Price,” Flynn growled.
Price set the coffeepot back on the burner, then his coffee cup next to it, never taking his eyes off Pink. “Miss Fuentes,” he said stepping toward her, extending his right hand. “Maddox Price at your service.”
Flynn just bet he was. Probably getting a hard-on remembering what was under her top. Son of a bitch!
Pink smiled, a slight blush pinkening her cheeks. As she shook his hand, she batted her eyelashes. “Thank you, Mr. Price,” she said softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Flynn could have sworn he heard the guys behind him inhale painfully. Yeah, she had that effect on each one of them. Flynn cursed himself for bringing her here. It bugged the shit out of him that Justin and Maddox had seen her half-naked, giving him a lap dance.
Damn it all to hell. It was too late now, and despite his feelings, he knew he had made the right call.
That didn’t prevent Flynn from spearing Price with a glare that had no effect on him at all. The bastard kept Pink’s hand in his and stood grinning at her like the fool he was. Flynn knew exactly what was going through the guy’s mind’s eye. Justin’s too, even though Justin had a steady girl. How could any red-blooded man get the vision of Pink’s lush tits out of his head?
Clearing his throat, Flynn moved toward the interloper, but said for all of the gathered men and woman, “I explained to Miss Fuentes that I’d be introducing her to a group of professionals.”
In unison they nodded, agreeing quickly, dragging their eyes from her and back to their tablets on the conference table. When Price continued to hold Pink’s hand, she smiled and tactfully disengaged. Then she moved to stand beside Flynn, giving the impression to the room that she was with him.
Shooting Price a stay-the-hell-away glare, Flynn pulled out a chair beside him and indicated Pink sit there. When she did, Flynn pushed her in and continued, “Miss Fuentes has a problem that we may be able to help her with and she in turn may be able to help us out with a problem of our own.”
Taking the seat beside her, Flynn made it clear she was under his protection. Justin nodded and moved around to the head of the table and his laptop. “Miss Fuentes, is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”
“Yes, as long as you reciprocate.”
He smiled. “I’ll answer what I can for you.”
“Okay, then ask away.”
“How long have you been working at the Surf’s Up club on O’Farrell?”
“Three months.”
He made a notation, then looked up and asked, “What are your duties there?”
“I cocktail and as of this past Saturday, I was promoted to stripper.” She said the words as if she were promoted to head accountant. No embarrassment or explanation, just a simple statement of fact.
Flynn cringed inside, but watched the reaction of the assembled task force members at the table. Each one of them, including Jackson, had their poker face on. Good thing, because he wasn’t in the mood to call one of them out for a snicker or sneer.
“As a stripper, what are your duties?”
Folding her hands on the table she said candidly, “Well, most of the girls dance and strip on stage, but Andre just wants me to do private parties for now. Like the one you, Maddox, and Flynn attended Saturday night.”
Justin cleared his throat, Price had the decency to look up at the ceiling and Flynn was fighting a mighty hard– on. Everything about Saturday night flooded his memory banks.
“Do we need specifics, Justin, or can we just move on?” Flynn bit out.
“I’d like to know the specifics,” Jackson said, sitting forward.
Flynn opened his mouth to tell her to back down, but Pink put her hand on his, squeezed it, and said, “I’d be happy to explain, Officer Jackson.”
“It’s sergeant,” Jackson corrected.
“Sergeant Jackson,” Pink said, sweeping her gaze across the antagonistic woman’s face, then to her left hand where there was no wedding ring. “Would you like a demonstration on how to get and hold a man’s attention?”
Flynn bit his lip, Price snorted, and Justin smirked before saying, “Let’s move on, shall we?”
Jackson shot Flynn a harsh glare, but sat back, knowing she was going to make a fool out of herself if she pushed. She might be one of the guys, but none of the men in the room were going to allow her to pick on Pink.
Justin glanced at his laptop, then at Pink. “Do you have keys to the building?”
“No. Only Boris, Andre, and Sherry the bookkeeper.”
“What type of access do you have to the interior areas of the club?”
“All areas except Boris’s office. That’s locked when he isn’t there.”
Making the notation, Justin picked up a thick manila folder from the table. As he came around the table, he sat down beside Pink and opened the folder. It held a stack of 8-by-10 color photos. He spread them out in front of her and asked, “Do you recognize any of these men by sight or name?”
As she leaned across the table in Flynn’s direction to get a better look at the dozen or so pictures lined up on the tabletop, he tensed when her knee slid against the outside of his thigh. The contact struck him with the heat of a laser beam. Despite the full room, he pressed his thigh against hers, enjoying the contact.
“I recognize some of them, but only a few by name.” She moved three to the side and pointed to the next three photos. “They were in last week. Boris’s office. It was very hush-hush, but I took them drinks. That one called this one Josef; they were talking about a man named Miroslav. I don’t know the other’s name.” She moved them aside and as she reached for two more photos, her right breast nudged his forearm. The contact caught them both off guard. Pink glanced at Flynn, her cheeks flushed.
Flynn steeled himself. When she bent farther across the table, the pressure of her warmth nearly killed him. Damn it was hot in that room. When she pulled two more from the spread and sat back, relief flooded him. He looked up to find Justin’s brooding gaze on him.
“This is Sasha,” Pink said, pointing to the picture of a dark-haired younger man. “He comes in every Friday night, likes his vodka warm, and tips well. Sometimes he comes in with a satchel, but he always leaves with one. This other guy is Maks. I think he’s related to Boris, maybe his nephew, because when he comes in and harasses the girls, Andre doesn’t call him out on it. Most of girls have dated him.” She said, air quoting dated.
“Have you?” Jackson asked.
Pink inhaled sharply at the insult. Flynn turned on his one-afternoon stand. “You have a problem with me, Jackson, fine but leave Miss Fuentes out of it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Ryker. My question’s legit. If she’s dating any of these guys, how can we trust her?”
Flynn stood up. Placing his hands palm down on the conference table, he leaned over it and into Jackson’s space. “She’s not fucking any of them now and hasn’t fucked any of them in the past.”
“You know this how?” Jackson asked, and smirked.
“My sex life is no one’s business but mine, Sergeant Jackson,” Pink said calmly. “That said, the answer to your question is no, I haven’t dated or been intimate with any of the men or women who frequent the club.”
“Thank you, Miss Fuentes,” Justin said. “Is there more than one way to access the office?”
“No, just the one entry. It has several deadbolts, and a guard outside the door when Boris is in-house.”
“How often is he in-house?”
“A few times a month.”
“Does he have a regular day?”
“The club is only open Wednesday through Saturday. He shows up different days and times.”
Justin typed in notes. When he looked up from his laptop, he looked thoughtfully at Pink. “How much do you know about Boris’s side business of blackmail videos?”
Pink pushed the pictures away and straightened in her chair. “What does any of that have to do with finding my sister?”
“Who is your sister?” Justin asked.
Surprised, Pink looked at Flynn. “You didn’t tell them?”
“Not my story to tell. That’s yours.”
Her lips parted, her white teeth catching the tip of her pink tongue.
“You asked me to keep your secret. I gave you my word.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Caught up in the emotion flickering in her eyes, Flynn smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. He’d just scored major points with her. “Your secret is safe with every man in this room,” Flynn said, then looked pointedly at Jackson, who nodded. “And woman.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice as trusting as a child’s. But her tone didn’t fool Flynn. Pink had a steel rod running through her.
“For us to be able to help you, you’re going to have to be transparent. About everything.” Flynn nudged her chin up with his hand. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” God help Jackson if she went after Pink again.
“Yes,” she said, her breathless voice shooting straight to his dick. Pink turned to Justin and said, “Alexandra Chastain, Senator Chastain’s daughter, is my half sister.”
Confusion flashed across Justin’s face.
“I thought he only had one daughter,” Price said.
Pink shook her head. “He has two. I’m his dirty little secret.”
Justin pursed his lips, but nodded. “Let’s back up, Miss Fuentes. Tell me what you know about Boris’s blackmail video business and how you came to know about it.”
“My sister called me a little over three months ago, begging for my help. She said she was in trouble.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, but did she say what kind of trouble?” Justin asked.
Pink nodded. “First she said, she thought someone was trying to kill her. Then later in the conversation she said, ‘I think it’s him’.”
“Who is him?”
“I don’t know. And I didn’t believe her,” Izzy whispered looking at her hands in her lap then back to Justin. “We’d been estranged for thirteen years so I wasn’t very receptive. She told me was working at the Surf’s Up club and asked me to meet her that day to talk. I refused and hung up on her.” Pink swallowed, her voice full of emotion. “I felt bad and a few days later called her. Her phone was disconnected. I went to the club and asked about her, I was told by Sherry, the bookkeeper, that she no longer worked there. I called the cops and asked if there was a missing persons report filed on my sister, they said no.”
“Didn’t you think that was odd?”
“Yes and no. Apparently my sister had been working at the club for some time. I’m sure her mother gave birth to a cow or two over that news. My father?” She shrugged. “He’s a politician. For all I know he had her shipped off to a dark corner of world so she wouldn’t hurt his chances of getting reelected.” As she said the words, Flynn caught Justin’s gaze.
They were thinking the same thing.
“Did you confront your father?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have nothing to say to him, and even if I asked him, he wouldn’t tell me anything. So I took matters into my own hands. I went back to the club and got hired to pick up cocktail shifts for girls who called in sick or were no shows.”
Pink looked at Flynn, and then back to her captured audience.
“I used my tip money to buy information about Jasmyn, that’s my sister’s stripper name. I paid a lot of money for zero information. I showed up on time and did a good job and Andre, the manager, started giving me better shifts and tables. When I went to him directly and asked about Jasmyn, he told me only Boris had that information. But if I wanted it bad enough he would ask Boris on my behalf. If, I would make a video. I refused but then he told me the last girl to make a video was Jasmyn. Andre made it sound like Jasmyn made the video, handed it over to Boris who then paid her a large sum of money and she walked out the door never to be heard from again. I don’t believe Boris gave her a dime and I don’t believe she walked out of there either. Someone took her.”
“Explain the process in detail, please,” Justin asked levelly.
“Andre came to me in my dressing room this past Saturday night, saying there was a bunch of cops in for a private party. He wanted me to cut one from the herd, slip him the mickey Andre provided me, and once he was drugged, take him somewhere and make a compromising video of the two of us. I give the video to Andre, he then gives it to Boris and return he would get me the information I wanted. What Boris was going to do with it, I don’t know.” She looked at Flynn and had the decency to blush. “But I can guess.”
“And did you cut one from the herd, drug him, and make a video?” Justin prompted.
“Well, yes and no. I did cut one from the herd, and I did slip him the mickey, but he was on to me and, well, the night didn’t go as I had planned.”
“How did it go?” Price asked.
“None of your business, Price,” Flynn barked.
“If it’s relevant—” He tried to defend himself.
“It’s not. So leave it alone,” Flynn bit out. He looked at Justin for some help.
“I don’t understand what all of this has to do with you helping me find Alex,” Pink stated. “I’ve been working at that dump for over three months because of her. The only reason I’m here is because Flynn said you might be able to help me.”
“Settle down, Wild Style,” Price said.
Flynn stood so fast his chair fell back against the wall. “You’re being a disrespectful asshole, Price.”
“Knock it off, Maddox,” Justin commanded. As Flynn stared down the younger man, he had the common sense to nod.
“My apologies, Miss Fuentes.”
“I’ve been called a lot worse than my working name, Mr. Price. I doubt anything that comes out of your mouth can hurt me.”
Pride swelled in Flynn’s chest. He loved that she never made excuses for who she was or what she did. She’d more than held her own in here. She was an amazing woman who had put herself in a vulnerable position where people like Jackson and, Flynn cringed, himself, thought less of her because she took her clothes off. It shouldn’t matter why she did it; she chose to. Seeing the ugliness of it all made Flynn ashamed of himself. He should take a page out of her lesson book.
“I would never intentionally cause you harm, Miss Fuentes,” Price said, properly put in his place. The other men around the table shook their heads like he was the village idiot.
“Miss Fuentes,” Justin said, “We’ve had our eyes on the club for some time now. Unfortunately we don’t have the manpower to have eyes on the club twenty-four seven, so your intel is invaluable. Thank you. While I can’t speak to anything specific regarding your sister at the moment, I promise to look into her disappearance immediately. In so doing, I would caution you, not to make any contact with your father or his wife, or anyone associated with Surf’s Up except as it pertains to your job there.” Justin looked at Flynn. Message received. He’d back off.
