Текст книги "In a Bad Way"
Автор книги: Karin Tabke
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-six
Several hours later found Flynn pacing a culvert into his kitchen floor. Pink had slept the day away. Was she sick? She had to be hungry. He’d showered and eaten twice since he tucked her into the big bed, nearly breaking his jaw to keep from pressing his lips to her smooth, creamy body as he pulled the sheets over her nakedness.
He stopped his incessant pacing. Clasping his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, Flynn cursed. She had been through the wringer. Why should he be surprised she’d mentally checked out? Sleep was a great way of ignoring one’s reality. And Pink’s was pretty shitty at the moment. “No thanks to me,” he muttered, feeling like the guy who had kicked the kitten when he should have been the guy who picked it up, loved and protected it.
He could give himself some credit. He had picked her up and brought her here. To his house. Not home, because it was just a place he crashed. But here, she was out of harm’s way.
As for loving her? He didn’t know how to. Didn’t want to learn. He’d witnessed firsthand the backlash of that emotion. Many years ago, Flynn had made the conscious decision to lock his heart and swallow the key. He wasn’t willing to put himself out there. The minute a woman even looked like she was going to suggest they become more than what he wanted, he bolted. His heart, his rules. It worked for him. He had no regrets. Except with Pink.
His protection track record wasn’t that great, either. He couldn’t protect his mother from his father or his sister from that asshole she insisted on marrying. Under his watch, Pink had been two steps from being kidnapped. Now she was an emotional train wreck and he had been the one to derail her long before her father had this morning. He didn’t know how to undo what he had done without giving her hope. And that he couldn’t do. Not after last night.
Glancing at his watch, Flynn decided she had slept long enough.
“Pink,” he called from the hallway.
When she didn’t answer, Flynn nudged the door open with his foot and stopped at the threshold. She was still in bed, wrapped up tight in the sheets like a butterfly in a cocoon, sound asleep.
His heart made a weird thump against his rib cage. Setting the tray with the lunch he had made for her down on the dresser, Flynn moved around the side of the bed. Her long black lashes glistened with recent tears. She made a sound like a baby did after a hard cry. Somewhere between a sob and a sigh. His heart squeezed with emotion he could no longer deny.
She did something to him. Caused an ache so deep in him it kept him awake at night. How was that possible? He’d known her less than a week. It felt like he’d loved her a lifetime, though.
When she’d called him out this morning after telling him how she felt about him, he had never been more miserable. He should have been elated. Jumping for joy because damn it, he felt the same way. All those hours sitting outside of her house, he had nothing but time to think. About Pink and how much he wanted to be a part of her life. He had come to the decision that when this case was closed, he would pursue her until she couldn’t run from him anymore.
That had all changed last night, when he’d come around Pink’s side yard and saw the kitchen door open. He’d never experienced the paralyzing fear that he had at that moment. He panicked when his imagination ran wild with visions of what the intruder would do to her. He’d seen it before. Vicious, bloody crime scenes. He couldn’t bear thinking of what could have happened if he hadn’t gotten to her in time. Thank God he had.
That panicked fear, that loss of control, that brutal pain of possibly losing Pink still ate at him. If this was how it felt when she survived, how would it feel if she didn’t? How would he feel in thirty years if he lost her after she had become his everything? He didn’t want to find out.
It was that ache that fortified his determination not to get further involved with her. If he touched her, he’d cave. It killed him not being able to take her into his arms and comfort her when that prick of a sperm donor rolled up his window on her. Fucker knew who she was, too.
Flynn felt like a colossal dick when he realized he’d done the same thing to her as her father had. For different reasons, true. That didn’t make it right.
Grabbing the chair from the small desk in the corner, he sat down in it and let out a long sigh. He’d never felt so out of sorts or so unsure of himself. If he was half the man she needed, he’d fess up and step up. Fear paralyzed him.
Her soft breathless voice, roughened from crying, called out for him. He moved to her side, realizing she was still asleep. He brushed the pink tips of her bangs away from her face, marveling at the softness of her hair and skin. His body warmed as the desire to touch her more intimately took hold of him. Not ravage her, but hold her close to him, caress her. Kiss her. Protect her. Each one of those urges was new to him. He’d never felt any of them for a woman.
The only women who had mattered before Pink were his mother and sister, whom he’d always tried to shield from his father’s insensitivity. He’d protected them both as much as an adolescent and then a teenage boy could. In the end, his father’s flagrant philandering with fast women killed his mother and Genny took up with a lowlife gold digger who walked out on her and their two kids after he’d drained Genny dry and Dad refused to fund him any longer.
Pink was right. He was a coward. This little Wild Style had bigger balls than he did. He smiled. Couldn’t help it. She was something else.
Bending toward her, Flynn pressed his lips to hers, tasting the saltiness of her tears. She was warm and supple, her bubble gum scent faint.
Her eyelids fluttered open as a soft sigh of contentment slipped past her lips. His heart thudded painfully against his rib cage. Her sleepy eyes widened. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured against her lips. “I brought you lunch.”
Color pinkened her cheeks. Inwardly Flynn groaned. She was making it damn difficult not to drop to his knees and beg her for forgiveness. He moved back and stood up, retrieving the tray from the dresser. As he turned with it, he caught a glimpse of her breasts when she rearranged the sheet around her. When she caught him staring, she cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. Silently she wrapped it snugly around her chest as she sat up against the pillows.
He set the tray down on the nightstand. “I made you a grilled brie and tomato basil croissant.”
“Thank you,” was all she said as he handed her a napkin and the plate.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted to drink, so I brought you bottled water and a Gatorade.”
“Thank you,” she said as she bit into the sandwich. “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes. “This is really good.” She chewed slowly, savoring it.
Flynn smiled. At least he got that right. She liked his cooking. And he liked cooking for her. He moved back to the chair and was silent as she made contented noises as she ate. When she was done, she took a long drink of Gatorade. The sheet had loosened. When she reached to place the bottle back to the tray, it slid along the voluptuous swells her breasts, her nipples managing to catch the edge.
Heat simmered in his veins and his dick thickened. Flynn cleared his throat when she didn’t pull up the sheet.
Raising her chin, she looked directly at him and said, “We need to talk, Flynn, and I need for you to hear me.”
“If it’s about you leaving here, we’re not going to discuss it.”
“Listen to me, please.”
He gave her a curt nod. He’d listen, but he wasn’t changing his mind.
“I cannot thank you enough for what you did last night,” she said quietly. Her eyes softened. He wanted to touch her cheek, run his fingers along the high curve and into her hair. Then kiss her so she wouldn’t say the words he didn’t want to hear. “You saved my life, Flynn. I can’t ever repay that. I appreciate your further concern and opening your home to me to keep me safe. It means the world to me. I wish there was some way I could repay you.”
“But?” He knew where she was headed and the thought of her leaving here caused a knot to form in his gut.
“But I don’t want to stay here. I want to be alone.”
He knew why she didn’t want to stay. It wasn’t fair of him to try and force her to. “You can’t go back to your house.”
“I know. I was thinking, maybe I’d take you up on the hotel offer, not the Claremont, something much less expensive, so long as you promise me you’ll let me pay you back.”
He scowled. “By stripping?”
“No, not stripping. I have other means of support that don’t involve the club. Just not at the moment.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you stay here? I’ll camp out at a buddy’s house until this case blows over.”
“I don’t think you understand, Flynn. I don’t want to see you again. Ever. When I walk out that door, the one and only contact we’ll ever have again is when I mail you the check to cover the hotel.”
Had she rammed a hot knife into his chest and turned it, he would have suffered less of a shock. For a split second his brain couldn’t process what she was saying. Until it did. He’d never see her again.
He blinked. “I don’t want that,” he said.
She pushed out of the bed, allowing the sheets to fall away from her body. Just a foot away from him, she stood proudly regarding him in all her magnificent naked glory. “It’s what I want.” Then she strode past him and into the bathroom, soundly shutting the door behind her.
Flynn sat still. Stunned. Rooted to the chair unable to process what this meant. If she refused to have him near, how could he protect her? She was vulnerable. Someone was gunning for her. He wanted to know who and why, then exterminate them.
Then there was the matter of Boris and Andre. She wasn’t safe at the club.
When she reemerged, fully clothed in those tattered jeans and a midriff black tee, she moved past him to snatch her cell phone off the nightstand.
She tapped it open, made a few motions, then said, “There’s a text from my handler asking me to have you call him asap.”
She tapped Lover Boy’s number and handed Flynn the phone.
“Hey baby,” Maddox said.
“Hey baby, my ass,” Flynn groused.
“Ah, Ryker. Is our girl in earshot?”
“Yes.”
“Then step away.”
Flynn put his hand over the phone and said, “Give me a sec,” then moved to the other side of the room. “Go ahead.”
“We’re putting the brakes on the thumb drive for the moment. We’ve hit a snag with the court order.”
“How is that? It’s straightforward.”
“Judge is asking for more just cause.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Agreed. But until we get the green light, that exchange is no-go.”
“Then she calls in sick until you get the signature,” Flynn said. It wasn’t a question.
“We want her inside.”
Flynn moved out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. “Fuck that. She shows up without that thumb drive, there’s no telling what Andre will do to her. I won’t risk it.”
“The only reason I’m even discussing this with you, Ryker, is because I know you’ve got a hard-on for her. So listen up: We’ve got it from a good source that Miroslav Bushnik, Sorlov’s Russian liaison, is coming in from Ukraine. Our intel is unclear if he’s already here or on his way. Regardless, we need Miss Fuentes to be our eyes and ears in the club. If he shows, we want her to drop a bug on him.”
Flynn nearly blew his top. “Not going to happen.”
“You don’t have an official voice in this, Ryker. Either stand down or I’ll slap an obstruction charge on you so fast your head’ll spin.”
“You’re not using her as bait.”
“We don’t lose CIs. We’ll have the place filled with UCs.”
Flynn gripped the phone so tightly, his knuckles whitened.
“Flynn,” Maddox said, “I give you my word, I’ll stay close. Those pricks will have to get through me and twenty other guys to get to her.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but until we get the drive in Sorlov’s hands, ours are tied. Getting the goods on Bushnik would be a huge blow to Sorlov’s operation. ”
Flynn exhaled. The thumb drive was more than it appeared. It was a GPS and listening device that could be remotely activated without the possessor’s knowledge. Why a judge wouldn’t authorize it was beyond Flynn unless… “Hold up a sec, how did you get the go-ahead for the device to plant on Bushnik, but not for the thumb drive?”
“I wasn’t going to chance Saduki kicking another one back, so I went to Madsen. He signed it right off.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that for this particular investigation, and it being such a routine request, that any judge, especially one like Saduki who is always proactive so long as you give him just cause, would hold you up on this? It’s a legit warrant. Even a hard case would have signed off on it. There’s only one reason Saduki would drag his feet.”
“You think Sorlov has him in his pocket?”
“Yup. I’ll bet he has dirt on the judge and is using it to blackmail him for tip-offs and information. Just like he’ll do to me when he sees the video.”
“If Saduki tipped off Sorlov—”
“We’re fucked. I don’t want Miss Fuentes anywhere near that place, not if Sorlov is on to us.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Until you know one way or another, she’s not leaving my house.”
“On that we’re agreed. Sit tight until I have more intel.” Maddox hung up.
Flynn stared at the cell phone for a long time before he walked back into the bedroom. Pink was packed and patiently sitting on the chair he had vacated earlier.
Flynn handed her her phone. “There’s been a development, Pink. It’s unclear what the repercussions are, so for the moment, you’ll stay here.”
“What development?”
“I can’t discuss it.”
“Ah, well let me guess. That thumb drive is more than it appears. A listening device, perhaps?”
Flynn scowled.
“And you can’t get a warrant signed to use it as such?”
Flynn didn’t say a word.
“We don’t need it,” she said. “The video is enough. Let me show it to Sorlov and wait until he calls you out with his demands. Then snatch him up. If he cries entrapment or coercion, he won’t have a legal leg to stand on in court. It was a video given to him; he chose to use it for illegal purposes. Case closed.”
Flynn stared at her in shock. Not only was she right, but how the hell did she know that?
“I can’t speak for the task force’s motives or strategy, Pink. For now, I’ve been instructed to keep my eye on you until I receive further instructions.”
She stood. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t want a babysitter.”
“Not your call.”
“You can’t force me to stay here.”
“Yes, I can.”
“That’s against the law!”
“I am the law.”
Pink’s jaw dropped, and when it did, Flynn was overcome with the urge to snatch her to his body and shut her up with his lips on hers.
When she started to dial a number on her phone, Flynn snatched it away from her. “Hey!” she cried, lunging against him, grabbing for her phone. He held his hand high over her head. Jumping for it, she dug her nails into his forearm. “Give me my phone, you big bully!”
The warm softness of her body sliding up and down his chest and hips as she tried to get to her phone was Flynn’s undoing. Grasping her around the waist with his free hand, he hoisted her up against his waist and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, imprisoning her against him.
“Stop acting like a two-year-old, Isa. You’re in danger. I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.”
“I don’t want your protection!” she screeched, twisting against him. “I’d rather be dead than spend one more minute with you!”
Digging his fingers into her hair, Flynn grasped the back of her head and pulled it back so that her fiery eyes glared up to his. “Then I guess I’ll take advantage of your last minute.” His lips swooped down onto hers, the shock of their contact electric. Blood slammed through his veins, straight to his dick.
Holy fuck. Hungrily, Flynn’s lips ravaged hers. He gave her no quarter. There was nothing gentle about the way he ate at her mouth or the way his tongue licked against hers. She tasted just like he knew she would: hot and sweet. Sexy and defiant.
Her body softened against his, her hands no longer ripping at his arms. Instead, her fingers grasped his shoulders. The kiss deepened. He couldn’t get enough of her. Starved for her, he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. What he wanted, she would never concede to.
Take her down the hallway to his room, lay her down on his bed and make slow, sweet love to her until he depleted her.
Flynn pulled her head back breaking their connection. Their breaths were hot and hard. Fast and furious. Catching her gaze, he lowered his lips to hers, and just before he brushed them across the swollen buds, he whispered, “You’re still alive. You’re going to stay that way, no matter if I have to fight you myself to make sure that happens.”
Breathing heavily, she licked her lips, slowly.
“Oh, no, baby, don’t do that or you’re going to hate me more.”
Her swollen lips lifted in a flirty smile. “I already do.”
Flynn’s heart pounded against his rib cage. Slanting his face across hers, he lowered his lips to hers and said, “I guess all bets are off, then.”
Catching his bottom lip between her teeth, Pink sucked it slowly into her mouth, running her tongue along the edge. Flynn’s heart rate accelerated. His dick swelled painfully in his shorts. When she released him, he pressed more intimately into her. There was no mistaking his raging erection. “All bets are back on, Ryker,” she whispered. “I’ll stay under one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You don’t touch me unless I need CPR.”
Her words were like ice water in his veins. “Seriously?”
“As a heart attack.” She grinned and licked his lips before pushing out of his embrace. “Take it or leave it, Special Agent.”
She didn’t leave him with much of a choice. Reluctantly he let her feet slide to the floor. When she moved across the room, he felt empty. The emptiness settled in with a hard thud when he realized she was right. What the hell was he thinking? Obviously he hadn’t been thinking. At least not with the head on his shoulders. It was frustrating to no end not to act on his attraction for the tiny dancer.
He had no choice and even if he did, it wouldn’t matter because she was adamant. Extending his hand, he said, “Deal.”
She smiled so sweetly, his heart thumpity-thumped. “No touching.” But she extended her hand toward him and did an air shake. “Deal. Now I’d like my phone back.”
Flynn picked it up from the bed where he had dropped it and tossed it to her. Dropping it into her purse, she looked up and smiled a smile that he knew was going to end with them both in trouble. “I want go for a ride on your motorcycle.”
“How are we going to do that without touching?”
“I never said I couldn’t touch you.”
As she pranced out of the bedroom, Flynn shook his head and followed her scent. He was so screwed.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Twenty minutes later they roared north on 13. The day was cooling as it wound down. Fog rolled in from the city; soon it would blanket the entire east bay. Izzy was swimming in one of Flynn’s leather jackets. He’d refused to let her mount the bike without it and the helmet. Wearing the helmet was the law, of course, but the jacket was huge and heavy, and if they took a spill it would protect her skin. She shivered as streams of cool air jettisoned up the sleeves, suddenly grateful for Flynn’s insistence she wear it.
Izzy held on to Flynn’s narrow waist as they banked right onto the 24 on-ramp.
There was something supremely primal about sitting behind such a strong, virile male as he expertly handled almost a thousand pounds of vibrating steel. This was a first for her. She’d never been on a motorcycle before. She’d thought she would be afraid. She was anything but. She had complete confidence in Flynn’s skill as a driver. Moments later, as they exited 24 onto Grizzly Peak Boulevard, Izzy threw her hands up in the air and laughed.
For the second time with Flynn, she felt the exaltation of speed, and freedom. Flynn reached back with his left hand and grabbed her behind her left knee, securing his hand there, fortifying her balance. His gesture tugged at her heart. It was thoughtful, and protective.
Even if it did violate her no-touching policy, she loved it.
It was instinctual with him, she realized. Something that just came naturally to him. He protected her with the dedication and ferocity that Turk had. She felt special. Safe.
The jealous bone she didn’t know she had, poked at her pride. Was he like this with all of the women he had dated? She suspected he was. It was part of his DNA. Not that they were dating, that had been clearly established. It was too damn bad though, because their ridiculous attraction to each other hadn’t waned. If anything it had grown. When he’d kissed her earlier, she came oh so close to separating him from his clothes and mounting him. Yeah, it had taken all she had not to make a fool out of herself.
Their kiss had served to remind her how vulnerable she was. When he touched her, her willpower vanished. She needed not to engage with him, hence her condition of not touching her. She laughed, once again finding sick humor in the fact that she was glued to his ass, arms wrapped around his waist, her legs tucked behind his and his hand riding her thigh.
He squeezed her thigh in acknowledgment of her outburst. As they began to wind up into the foothills, Flynn released her leg to put both hands on the handlebars.
She relaxed, enjoying the scenery, the brush of the cool air on her face and the feel of Flynn against her. Each time she thought of Alex, her mom, seeing her father earlier, and what she wished could be with Flynn, she pushed the thoughts from her head. Instead, Izzy thought of the positives in her life. She was alive, she was healthy, and she had a plan. Giving herself permission to push her boundaries, to be afraid but brave, and most of all to just be who she was, excited her. Izzy didn’t have to hide behind who she thought she should be, but stand proud for who she was now.
She was free! Free to be whoever she wanted to be. No boundaries. Warmth infused her body as she realized what that meant. Unconsciously she tightened her arms around Flynn’s waist, tucking her hands beneath his leather jacket. Her hands were cold, but his body was warm.
As they wound higher up in the Oakland hills, Izzy looked to her left. The sun was setting, almost completely obliterated by the thick rolling fog. Flynn slowed, turned left onto the other side of the road, and stopped at a vista point. In all of the years she had lived in the east bay, Izzy had never been up here. Sprawling before her was an unobstructed view of the entire bay, all the way to San Francisco, that was engulfed in a huge bank of fog. Flynn cut the engine, and helped her off. Hanging his helmet off the right handle bar, she unstrapped her helmet and hung it from the left one.
“My God, this is amazing, Flynn,” she said, walking to the edge of the wall.
He stood behind her, his tall body protectively shadowing hers. “I come up here to think,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what time of year, day or night, I’m always able to clear the cobwebs.”
The view was endless. Awe-inspiring. The magnificent bay, strong and powerful, deadly even, but like all living things, vulnerable.
Turning around, Izzy looked up at her complicated Special Agent. His still waters ran very deep. Flynn wasn’t heartless; his heart, she realized, was encased with scar tissue. If anyone could understand his reluctance to love, it was her. The pain of love lost, of rejection, of longing for something that would never be, ate at a person. It left deep wounds that festered. They never healed; instead they slowly became encased in armor. Acknowledging the pain and the reasons for it didn’t make it better. Neither did accepting it. Acceptance made it worse. Accepting an unreachable heart meant you were content to exist in a loveless life. How sad for Flynn.
Izzy didn’t want that life. She wanted love. Mad, passionate, I’m-on-fire, love. To give it and receive it. She wanted a man who would fight with her and for her. A man who every time he looked at her saw his moon and stars. A man who wouldn’t back down from her fire, but continuously ignited it because the same fire burned in him.
He stared past her to the horizon, his jaw tight, his eyes slightly squinting. He hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble on his face more pronounced than it was this morning. He was all badass male. Clad in black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket, jet-black hair punctuated by his stunning blue eyes. Izzy’s herculean efforts to remain distant and uninterested in him were in vain. Flynn Ryker touched her on a basic, primal level. When his male spoke to her female, there was nothing her sensibilities could do to prevent the inevitable sparks that blazed between them. He was desperately attracted to her, no matter how hard he fought it, same as her. While Flynn had no problem giving in to the physical aspect of their attraction, he refused to emotionally engage.
Slowly she smiled. Had he ever been challenged to let go? To drop his walls and take a chance on a relationship? Izzy bet he’d never given anyone the chance to get to him, much less get to know him. Well, she had the chance. She had gotten to him. Had nothing but time with him.
While Flynn might think he wasn’t relationship material, Izzy knew he was. Once he committed, he would be the kind of man who would remain true until the day his woman died.
Emotion swelled in her chest, constricting her airflow. To be loved so completely by this man was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. For the first time in Izzy’s life, she wanted something more than to be a Chastain.
She wanted Flynn. She would fight for him. And she would win.
When Flynn’s gaze dropped to hers, her smile widened. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Pink?”
“Hah, wouldn’t you like to know!”
He reached up to touch her, but stopped mid reach. The breeze buffeted her hair around her face. Pushing it back, she continued to look up at him. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Bubble gum.”
Laughing, Izzy swatted him and turned around to gaze at the bay that twinkled below. “Bubble gum isn’t food, Flynn. It’s candy.”
“Candy can be my favorite food.” Warmth from his breath caressed her ear. “I like Pink bubble gum the best.”
Shivering because it was cold, not because his words stirred her, Izzy wrapped her arms around herself. Flynn removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders over her jacket. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she stared out at the bay.
“The wind is cold,” he said. “You should have worn layers.”
Turning, she continued to smile at him. “You know you like me.”
“That’s the problem.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why it was a problem, but she didn’t. She knew why. “Let’s get out of here, I’m hungry.” Handing him back his jacket she stepped past him.
As he walked toward his tricked-out, sleek black Harley, he said, “A woman after my own heart.”
Strapping her helmet on, Izzy said, “I know a place on Adeline.”
Flynn straddled his bike, waiting for her to get on behind him. The seat was small. “This bike wasn’t designed for passengers,” he had told her in the garage. “You’re going to have to sit close and hang on tight. You okay with that?”
She had assured him she was. And boy was it. She liked the feel of his big warm body against hers. Besides, she’d never said anything about her not touching him.
Jimmy’s was a local collegiate haunt with traditional pub grub that was cheap and decent, with two-dollar beers and karaoke. Grabbing Flynn’s hand as they dismounted the bike, Izzy dragged him into the loud and crowded pub.
Stowing their helmets and jackets with the hostess, they proceeded into the lively establishment.
“Hey, Iz, where the hell have you been?” Nick the bouncer called as she negotiated her way toward the three-deep bar.
“Working!” she called, continuing toward the stacked bar. “Jimmy,” she called, waving to the bartender and owner. “Dos Patrons por favor!”
He grinned, showing big white teeth. “You got it, Pinky.”
Flynn’s hand tightened at Jimmy’s pet name for her.
Turning with a big grin, she said, “You’re not the only man in my life, Flynn.”
He didn’t look at her; he was too busy glaring at the affable barkeep. Grabbing the two shots, Izzy handed Flynn one. When he took it, she clanked her glass to his and said, “Bottoms up, baby.” Then threw it back. The warmth of the liquor spread through her chilled body. She slammed her shot glass down on the bar and Jimmy didn’t wait to be asked, he refilled it. Izzy laughed, feeling comfortable in her element.
Before Flynn had drunk his first shot, Izzy threw back her second. “Drink up,” she said over the din of the crowd. Throwing the shot back, Flynn set it on the bar, but put his palm over the top, indicating he was done.
“Party pooper,” Izzy said, and then pulled him further into the pub, past the karaoke stage to a small table on the fringe. For as crowded as the pub was, most everyone stood, so there was always a table or two open.
Just as they sat down, a perky little server named Dolly set menus down on their table. “Drinks?” she asked.
“Two waters,” Flynn said.
“And a shot of Patron,” Izzy added.
Flynn scowled. “You won’t be able to ride back with me if you’re drunk, Pink.”
“That’s what cabs are for.”
His scowl deepened, but he didn’t say another word about it. Instead he asked, “You come here often?”
“I used to, when I was an undergrad.”
“Undergrad?”
“Yes, commonly known as a person who is working toward their first degree?”
“You graduated from Cal?”
“Summa cum laude, baby.”
Flynn nodded. She could see by the way he stared at her that he was dying to know more. When Dolly set the waters down, she also set down two menus. “Your shot will be right here. Jimmy said not to forget your deal.”
