Текст книги "In a Bad Way"
Автор книги: Karin Tabke
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-four
Izzy woke to a symphony of birds happily welcoming in the new day. She hadn’t heard birds singing in the morning like this since… She popped up in the bed, blinking back the streams of sunshine blazing through the open French doors that led to a balcony. This wasn’t her room.
Far from it. This one sported twelve-foot ceilings, six-inch carved white wood molding, steel gray walls, sleek dark brown furniture, and a lovely crystal chandelier. The rich oak hardwood floor was mostly covered in a thick, fluffy, white area rug that matched the wispy white of the billowing curtains. Although partial to quirky, colorful décor, Izzy had to admit that the traditional-contemporary mix worked; it had serenity to it. Stretching, she luxuriated beneath the smooth, soft sheets that she was sure cost more than her entire bedroom set.
If she didn’t instinctively know where she was, Izzy would have known Flynn was connected to this space. His scent lingered on the linens. Closing her eyes, she brought them to her nose and inhaled. Crisp and clean like the ocean.
As she imagined the hard warmth of Flynn’s body against hers, the night came flooding back to her. The intruder. The syringe, and Flynn’s injury. She shivered hard. To say she had been stunned by what had almost happened to her was a major understatement. Tightening the sheets around her, Izzy fought the urge to hide under them as the trauma of what would have happened to her had Flynn not come to her rescue sank in. He’d saved her from something horrific. So horrific she would have prayed for death.
Glancing at the closed door, she remembered their argument about coming here. He’d taken her from the home she no longer felt safe in, insisting they go to his home. She’d refused at first. Her reasons escaped her at the moment. Pride probably. It had a habit of getting in the way of her better judgment when it came to the Special Agent. Her pride aside, she knew she would be safe here. She’d fallen asleep in the car, in the garage.
Then there was the fear. The fear of uncertainty. The fear of rejection. The fear that she wasn’t brave enough to give Flynn her best shot because she was afraid of failure. It was all too much, too fast. Now here she was, in his house, in his guest room bed. Her nerves were shot. She wasn’t quite ready to face Flynn in his home where anything could happen.
Giving herself a few minutes to take it all in, Izzy looked around some more.
Seeing the balcony, she knew she was at least on the second floor. Warmth infused her as she imagined Flynn gathering her up in his arms and carrying her from the garage, up the winding stairway, and settling her here. She must have been sound asleep, because she didn’t remember anything after closing her eyes and resting her head back in the SUV after the lights went out.
The only thing missing from her person was her shoes. They were neatly placed beside her overnight bag on the floor by the open French doors. Her purse was sitting on the nightstand next to a full bottle of water.
Settling back into the mass of pillows, Izzy contemplated Flynn. She had her work cut out for her. His actions were contradictory and confusing. His signals mixed. The emotional roller coaster she found herself on careened along its own turbulent course. Hanging on could kill her, but so could jumping off. Her plan of action was to remain cool, aloof, give him just little pieces of herself at a time. It would be a testament to her willpower if she could maintain the “steady as she goes” course.
How would Flynn be this morning? Feeling like he had made a mistake bringing her here? Had the trauma of last night pushed her here too fast?
Oh for crying out loud. Stop with all the back-and-forth, Izzy. Go downstairs and see what’s up.
Flinging the covers off, her she heard the chirp of her cell phone. She had a message.
Digging in her purse for the phone, she grabbed it and pulled it out. Two messages. One from Charlie: Must. Have. Update. Now.
Izzy smiled and texted him back: You don’t even want to know. Just don’t go back to the house. I’ll call later. I’m ok and so is Flynn. Xoxox
The second one was from Lover Boy, aka her handler, Maddox. Izzy smirked at the name he had assigned himself.
“That will ensure that when I boss you around like an overprotective boyfriend, if someone takes a look at the texts, it’ll appear normal caveman behavior when in fact, it’s instructions,” he had told her as he programmed in his number.
Flynn had stood silently by, not saying a word, but Izzy saw the proverbial steam coming out of his ears. Hesitating, she thought about that. It was obvious Flynn didn’t like the fact that Maddox acted comfortable around her, and wasn’t threatened by Flynn. If Flynn didn’t care for her in the relationship way, why act all possessive? Trying to understand Flynn was an exercise in futility. She had never met a more complex human being than Flynn Atticus Ryker.
Confirm you did not inflict grave bodily harm upon Special Agent Ryker’s person. Also confirm my CI is ok.
Confirming I did not inflict grave bodily harm upon Special Agent Ryker (just a big lump on his head which actually served to diminish his gigantic ego). Your CI is fine. TY 4 asking.
As Izzy tossed the phone back into her bag she wondered why Maddox would text her. All he had to do was ask Flynn how he was. Maybe he didn’t want to rock the boat.
Her phone chirped that she had a new message.
Charlie: O.M.GAWD! Plz tell me you are safe and sound with Special Agent Stud?
Xoxox I am.
Le sigh
Maddox: 10-4 stand by later this afternoon for an update. Delete this thread.
Yes, sir!
Setting the phone on the nightstand Izzy smiled. The texts from Maddox and Charlie warmed her heart. They cared about her. She liked being cared about. Why couldn’t Flynn put aside his issues and relax around her? As complex and frustrating as Flynn was, he was the one who was there last night. Had he not been, there was a good chance she would not be alive this morning. Izzy owed him her life. She owed him a little patience, too.
Her feelings for Flynn aside, it was past time to call a truce. Accept that while he had his issues with her, none of which she cared for, she could live with them. That was the easy part. The hard part was getting a grip of her feelings for him. Flynn was one of a kind, he’d gone where no man had gone: straight into her heart.
He was a magnet to her steel. Law of attraction personified. She could kick herself for letting him get under her skin. Life was so much simpler with no complications.
On that note, Izzy stretched again, then checked out the bathroom, did her thing, and washed up. Feeling slightly more prepared to face the storm that was sure to be brewing somewhere in the house, she went in search of Grumpy Man.
She found him in the solarium off the kitchen. His back to her, he was barefoot, dressed in a white T-shirt and gray sweats. Her fingers twitched, wanting to run across the wide expanse of his shoulders. Silently, she walked across the tile floor to him.
“There’s coffee on the sideboard, and eggs and bacon on the counter,” he said, looking up at her as she moved around the small table he was seated at. He closed his laptop and looked straight at her.
Suddenly she was nervous. Her tummy did a little flip-flop. She didn’t stand a chance. Morning stubble darkened his face, and his dark hair, usually neatly styled, was mussed. The planes and valleys of his muscles were clearly defined beneath the T-shirt. Those cobalt blue eyes of his burned bright. Warmth pooled low in her belly. She suspected morning sex with him would be phenomenal.
Biting her bottom lip, Izzy tried to steer her thoughts away from his body and how compatible it was with hers. “I—ah…” she stuttered. Glancing at the coffeepot on the buffet, she hurried to pour herself a cup. After she added the cream and stirred, she lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. “Mmm, Jamaican Blue Mountain. My favorite.”
Taking another sip, Izzy picked a piece of bacon off the plate on the counter and moved to the table and took the chair across from Flynn, who quietly watched her. Feeling uncomfortable under his silent regard, she set the cup down and nibbled the bacon. When she looked over at him, he was scowling.
“You do that a lot,” she said, setting the half eaten piece of bacon down.
“Do what?”
“Scowl.”
“A lot makes me unhappy lately.”
Nervous energy rolled through her. “I’m not going to apologize for who I am or what I do, Flynn. That it makes you unhappy is on you.”
“I didn’t say you made me unhappy.”
His remark surprised her, but Izzy was smart enough not to go down that road with him again. It would end up in the same dead end it always did. Baby steps. Instead, she said, “I will however apologize for not thanking you last night for saving my life. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
He reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip. Her eyes riveted on the sensual fullness of his lips and the sheen of coffee on his upper lip. Hard shards of desire jabbed at her core. Squirming in her seat, she tried to suppress the craving. Didn’t work.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and took another sip.
“How is your head this morning?”
“Tender.”
“I’m sorry for whacking you with that wrench.”
“Apology accepted.”
When he didn’t offer more conversation, Izzy sat quietly and tried to enjoy her coffee. Having him so near, looking sexy and acting so aloof did the opposite of what it should have done. It made her want to engage him, not push him away, damn it! What she wouldn’t give to get inside this complicated man’s head. It was futile, though. He’d wrapped himself up tight.
“So, don’t you have a job to go to or does the FBI keep banker’s hours these days?”
“I had some time coming, so I took it.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he took time for her, but she squashed it. Even if he had, he’d make it not about her. Seriously, she needed to move forward with her plan instead of waiting for him to throw her a crumb.
When she snuck a glance at him, she found his brooding gaze still focused on her.
Biting her bottom lip, feeling like a germ beneath a microscope, Izzy looked around the solarium and smiled. There in the window was a pink Gerber daisy planter. Beaming, she looked at Flynn. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
Shrugging it off, he said, “They were selling them at the store. I thought you might like it.”
Raising her brows, she fought down the grin she couldn’t fully control and said, “You thought I might like it?”
Abruptly, he stood and walked over to the buffet and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Yes, you.”
Why did he have to make it so hard? Her smile receded as the urge to poke at his feelings for her enticed her. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. Why not find out where she stood, or could have? Not, she told herself, that it would matter.
It hit her like a sledgehammer that she had made a mistake. Flynn’s demeanor this morning left no doubt to anyone who was paying attention that he wasn’t interested. There was no sign of the man who’d brought her home last night. This man was cold. Disengaged.
“Do you think if we had met before I started working at Surf’s Up, things could have been different between us?” She wanted to hear the words, not speculate.
Flynn nearly choked on the coffee he’d just swallowed. Stunned, he looked at her. “What?”
Pointedly, she said, “I didn’t stutter.”
Flynn stared at her for several long seconds before he said, “I told you the night we met, I don’t do the commitment thing.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “I just don’t.”
“Neither do I, but at least I’m honest about why I don’t.” She set her cup down and stood up. “Especially with a man like you.”
“Is this where you insult me to make yourself feel better?”
“No.” Setting her hands on her hips, she elaborated. “Actually, it wouldn’t make me feel better. I feel pretty crappy because I wish you weren’t you. If you weren’t, then maybe I would break my rule and try.” Since she had nothing to lose, Izzy let him have the truth. “I would have put aside everything that scares me and let you in. For you, and only you, I would have been brave enough to try. To see what all the fuss was about. I was willing, Flynn, to give you a part of me I’ve never given anyone else. And I’m not talking about my hymen. But you threw it in my face, treated me like something you scraped off your shoe.” Tears stung her eyes now. “You didn’t even give me the chance to show you who I was, you just made assumptions, and your ego couldn’t handle them.” She moved in on him. “That’s the person I wished you weren’t. Because that other guy? The one who showed me the light? Who promised to help me, who cooked breakfast for me, who took me on a fabulous ride to the coast and introduced me to champagne? The guy who made me feel safe, the one who made me laugh? That guy? That’s the guy I would have given it all up for. But he never gave me a chance.”
“That second guy, the good one? He doesn’t exist,” Flynn said, standing. “The first guy is who I am.”
Izzy shook her head, dismayed by his refusal to sack up. “For such a badass, you’re the biggest coward I know.”
Sliding his chair under the table, Flynn speared her with keen blue eyes. “I know my limits, there’s nothing cowardly in that.”
“Your cowardice comes from hiding behind that first guy.”
He stood silently staring at her for what seemed like hours, but was in all actuality less than a minute. “You deserve better than me.”
Izzy laughed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better or you?”
“Neither. It’s the truth.”
Nodding, she looked up at him. “You’re right about that. I do deserve someone better than you. I deserve a guy who’s not willing to live without me.”
Lifting her chin, clenching her jaw and fists, Izzy strode toward him. His eyes widened. Oh, what she wouldn’t do for the honor of punching him! Hard. Make him feel something, damn it! Stopping inches from him, she stood up on her tiptoes and got in his face. “I only have one regret. Do you know what that is?”
He shook his head.
“I wish I’d never met you.”
His eyes darkened as his lips pulled tight. His only tell, slight as it was, that she had gotten to him was the slight acceleration of his breath pattern. In that one simple observation, Izzy realized he wasn’t made completely of stone. Sadly, it didn’t make her feel better. He had feelings all right, just not for her.
Running her fingers through her hair, Izzy shook her head. She needed to get out of here, because with each second that ticked by, she realized she was subconsciously giving Flynn the chance to change his mind. He wasn’t going to. Feeling gut-punched, she turned away. “I’m going for a run. If you insist on shadowing me, fine, but I’m going with or without you.”
“Isadora,” Flynn called as she walked away.
Shaking her head, fighting to keep calm, Izzy turned and put her hand up. “Don’t,” she said slowly, forcing her voice to remain level, “apologize for being you, Flynn. I certainly won’t apologize for being me. I get it. We all have our things. I just wanted you to know where I stood or would have, that’s all. It’s done, so just let it go.”
Izzy hurried back to her room, not giving him the opportunity to argue or explain himself, because it wouldn’t matter. She wanted something from him he wasn’t able to give her: the guts to try.
Chapter Twenty-five
By the time she closed the bedroom door behind her, Izzy couldn’t decide exactly how she felt. Hurt? Absolutely. Like there was a hole in her chest. An emptiness she couldn’t fathom. Rejection hurt like hell, especially after you laid your heart at someone’s feet like she just had. But she could take some satisfaction from standing her ground. She hadn’t settled for being Flynn’s fuck buddy. She wasn’t like her father or mother in that regard. She honored her feelings even though she guarded them like a momma grizzly guarded her cub. She’d end up despising herself if she settled for anything less than what she deserved: a man who cared enough about her to accept her good, bad, and ugly, who was willing to go all in. She wasn’t asking for the fairy-tale happily ever after. She wasn’t sure it existed. But she knew she wasn’t fuck buddy or mistress material. So she was back to where she had always felt the safest: Alone. And here she would stay.
Straightening, Izzy pulled the shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, tossing both onto the bed. She was brave, too. Stripping her pants and panties off, she gave herself a mental pat on the back. She’d taken a chance and lost. Damn if she didn’t take it. That was saying a lot more about her character than Flynn’s. He just refused to take one step in her direction.
Now she needed to find a way to move on and not continuously look over her shoulder. Choking back a laugh, she wondered how one erased feelings from their broken heart.
Izzy took a quick, cold shower and dressed in her running attire. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the doorknob. Rolling her neck and shoulders, she opened the door and with a bounce in her step she didn’t feel, she headed down the hall and then trotted downstairs. Flynn was waiting for her at the front door. He’d changed into a white, Dri-FIT tee that had the faded words Federal Property across the chest. The material accentuated each ripple of his chest, arms, and back. His black running shorts matched his black running shoes. Swallowing, Izzy wished there was a way she didn’t have to be subjected to his hotness in such an in-your-face way. His scent wafted toward her. Why did he have to smell so damn good, too?
Putting her ear buds in, Izzy cranked up her archaic iPod and stepped out onto the front porch, where she began her stretches. Taking her time, she didn’t rush through them. She couldn’t afford a pulled muscle in her line of work.
The slow beat of “Earned It,” came on, the song she had lap-danced to the night she met Flynn and his cronies. Closing her eyes, Izzy let the music sink into her soul, and as it filled her, she slowed the cadence of her movements. In her mind’s eye she saw herself dancing seductively for Flynn the night she met him. He had been so virile. So receptive to her. God, how her body had blossomed for him. There in front of his friends and later at her house.
He had made her feel things she never thought she would ever feel. Didn’t know existed. It wasn’t fair that he took all of that away from her! Was he a sadist? Her muscles tightened as she opened her eyes and caught his hot stare riveted on her. Smugly, she turned away from him, bending over and touching her toes, giving him a nice view of the ass he’d never touch again. When she stood, she reached high over her head, clasping her hands and stretching.
From the disruption of the shade behind her, she knew Flynn had moved closer to her. Turning she caught her breath as his chest nearly collided with hers.
He reached up and took one of her ear buds from her ear. “Flash that sweet ass of yours my way again, Pink, I’m going to slap it.”
Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.” It was a challenge she so wanted to take.
“And hand over the goodies?” She snatched her ear bud from him. Putting it back in her ear, she said, “Not on your life.”
Not waiting for Flynn to follow, she jogged down the sidewalk to the street. Once she hit her stride, she took comfort in knowing that Flynn was just two steps behind her. He could probably run circles around her, but he kept to her pace, ever diligent.
As the tension began to leave her, she let the music take her away. If she could have closed her eyes and just run, she would have. Running was the one place she could totally escape.
Her pace picked up. She wanted to run away from everything and everyone. From Flynn. From her life. Anger churned within her. Anger at Flynn for not being the guy she desperately wanted him to be. She hadn’t lied when she told him she wished she’d never met him. He’d totaled her. She didn’t know how to make the longing go away. With that truth, the truth about her mother dawned. Finally, Izzy got it. Now she understood how hard it must have been for her. To live under the same roof with the only man she had been intimate with. The only man she loved, would ever love, right there within reach, but untouchable. Except when he went to her. And her father had gone to her mother over the years. Giving her hope only to snatch it away.
Her mother was beautiful. Sweet, loving, and she never turned Izzy’s father away. It didn’t matter to Izzy that her father wasn’t worthy of her mother’s love, it only mattered that her mother loved him. Unconditionally until the day she died. Understanding her mother’s feelings a little better, now that she had experienced them herself, Izzy didn’t feel so harshly about her choice.
Unlike her mother, Izzy didn’t have to rely on the benevolence of others to make her way. Izzy had options. She was a citizen, she was educated, and she’d learned several harsh life lessons early. From the day her mother died, Izzy had not depended on anyone for anything. She was an island. Or she had been until Flynn had dropped anchor on her shore.
As she turned left on Bellevue, she stumbled. Tension tightened her muscles. Just down the street on the left was the house where she had spent the first eleven years of her life. The house where her father still resided. The house Alex still called home.
Her pace slowed as the imposing iron gates leading to the Chastain estate slowly opened. She felt Flynn’s presence much closer to her now, his shadow running alongside hers.
A blacked-out black town car rolled out from behind the gates. As it decelerated near the street, Izzy slowed so as not to collide with it. Her eyes were riveted on the open back passenger window.
Anxious tension constricted her heart, causing her to gulp for breath.
From the inside of the car, her father’s handsome face stared at her. As the car turned right, coming her way, he continued to stare.
“Daddy,” she whispered.
“Don’t,” Flynn said, taking her arm, pulling her away from the man who stared blankly back at her.
When recognition sparked behind the sea colored eyes she had inherited from him, hope swelled in Izzy’s heart. She reached out, moving toward the car.
Her father looked forward, dismissing her as he had all those years ago. The window slowly closed as the car accelerated and was gone.
Gulping for air, Izzy bent over, feeling nauseous. God, it hurt. Why had she stopped? She’d made peace years ago with the fact that she would never be more than a dirty secret to her father. That there was no place in his life for her. There never had been. There never would be. She hadn’t meant to reach out to him. She despised him! Why had she done that only to be rejected? Again.
Flynn’s big hand slid across her back and up between her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry.”
Still gasping for a deep breath, Izzy shook her head as anger seeped deep into her. Not at Flynn or her father, but herself. She was a fool to think even for one second that her sperm donor would give her the time of day. She’d been foolish to think Flynn would, too.
“Are you okay?” Flynn asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, gasping for breath. Nausea rolled through her again, the acid of the coffee rising in her throat. “I just need to catch my breath.”
The firm soothing pressure of Flynn’s hand on her back, as he rubbed her tense muscles in an effort to comfort her, made her want to cry for completely different but oh so familiar reasons.
Rejection stung.
Why she had opened herself, exposing her gooey vulnerable self, stymied her. Had she become her mother? The thought instantly gut-checked her. She could almost hear the clank of the metal walls as they dropped down around her heart. It would be a long time before she allowed anyone to get as close as Flynn had. Maybe never. The pain that followed was too steep a price for the precious little time that felt good.
She needed to suck it up. Get back on track by focusing on herself and finding Alex. Once she was found, Izzy could sleep at night knowing she had done the right thing, even if she never saw her sister again.
Fortified with new determination, she straightened and swiped away the mingled sweat and tears from her cheeks. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she managed a big smile. “Let’s wrap this up. I’m hungry.” She took off, leaving Flynn to catch up. When he did, he ran beside her stride for stride. By the time they made a full circle, she was emotional and physical toast. Burnt toast. No good for anything except pigeon feed, and even that was being optimistic.
Mustering some bravado as Flynn held the front door open for her, she said, “I’m going to jump in the shower.”
Wordless, he nodded when she passed by him. Minutes later Izzy stood beneath the hot spray. Putting her arms out, she placed her palms against the smooth cool tile and let the pressure of the water work the pain out of her muscles and the ache from her heart. When she found herself crying, Izzy didn’t fight the tears. She let it go. All of it. The yearning of a little girl for her father. The years of longing for the sister she loved to love her back. Her mother’s death. Reliving the day she was taken from the tiny Oakland apartment as the coroner zipped her mom up in a black body bag had been horrific.
Sliding down the shower wall, Izzy pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her cheek against them. Her time as a ward of the state had been a blur. She’d been placed with strangers who, while they were polite, weren’t family. They didn’t even try to be. Those first weeks were terrifying. She’d found solace in reading and school. The day she turned eighteen, she walked out the front door, not bothering to let anyone know she was leaving. She doubted they ever noticed she was gone.
Here she was six years later, still struggling to define herself when everyone connected to her either died or rejected her. Who was she? What did she want?
Hell, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wanted a law career. Her motivation had been to flip her father the bird by saying, ‘Look at me, I can get into your alma mater, Stanford Law, too, and I didn’t need my rich parents to grease the wheels.’
None of it mattered, she realized, because no matter what she did from this day forward, she was going to do it for herself. No more trying to prove herself worthy of the Chastain name. She was a Fuentes, and it was time she owned it. She’d survive today and tomorrow because she was a survivor. Damn if she wasn’t going to survive well.
Raising her head to rub her swollen eyes, Izzy froze. Flynn stood on the other side of the open shower, his stormy eyes catching and holding hers. He was still dressed in his running attire, the material clinging to his sweaty body so tightly she could see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.
Without so much as a word, he grabbed the towel she had set aside, reached above her head and turned the rain shower faucet off, knelt down and wrapped her in the thick fluffy towel. He took her into his arms and carried her like a baby into the bedroom.
“He doesn’t deserve one tear, Pink.” He settled her onto the bed. “You’re ten times the individual he could never be.”
She sucked back a sob as fresh hot tears burned her eyes, damn it. Where was her strength? Why, when Flynn touched her, did she melt? “I’m a fool for hoping for something that will never happen.”
Taking her face into his hands, he forced her to look at him. “You’re not a fool, you’re brave. With a pure heart. Always willing to see the good in people when they are inherently bad.” He smoothed back her damp hair. “We could all take a lesson out of your playbook.”
It took all she had not to press her cheek into his big warm hand. This Flynn was the Flynn she had fallen for. “My mom loved him with every ounce of her being. His name was the last word she spoke before she died. He used her up, and let her die of a broken heart.”
Pressing his lips to her forehead, he said, “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” she murmured. For so many things.
With the adrenaline spike Izzy had experienced when she saw her father now fully subsided, a deep-seated exhaustion stole over her. So much had happened in such a short amount of time; her ability to cope with it all wavered. “Let me sleep,” she murmured, closing her eyes, and finally—with no thought of what he would do or feel—Izzy melted into Flynn’s strong capable arms, deciding to savor this last stolen embrace.
