“Are you involved?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“It is if it impacts this case. We’ve spent years trying to get in there. She’s in. If she’s agreeable, we’re going to capitalize on that.”
Flynn swiped his hand across his face in frustration. He was powerless to stop Justin from reaching out to Pink. That wasn’t what scared the hell out of him. What scared him was knowing she would jump in feet first.
“Look, man, you know how this works,” Justin said. “This is task force 101. We’ll protect her. Now step back and let me do my job.”
“Got it,” Flynn snapped, then hung up.
“Is something wrong?” Pink asked from the door.
Flynn slowly turned to face her. “No. Justin and Maddox are on their way over.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Do they have news about Alex?”
“No.” He wished they did; that way, Pink would have no more use for them.
When she stepped out onto the porch and stared up at him for a long thoughtful minute, Flynn fought the urge to touch her. Her full lips were slightly parted, her big eyes wide, and he noticed for the first time she had a few freckles on her nose.
“Why are you so angry?” she asked.
What was he supposed to tell her? That Maddox Price, the biggest skirt chaser in the city, had his sights set on her and was going to be handling her while they used her to get to Sorlov? That he wanted to make love to her, but couldn’t because he’d want to again. That he wasn’t capable of giving her what she wanted and deserved. To be loved? Was he supposed to tell her that he hated himself for being such an ass for hurting her? That it infuriated him that he was forced to be hands-off with this investigation, all because of what he did to Stiles? That he was a bystander this time around? Or should he tell her that he was scared to death for her and his hands were tied because he’d blown it and she wanted nothing to do with him. Hell, if he asked to sleep on her sofa to make sure she was safe, she’d tell him to hit the road. Could he blame her?
“I’m angry because they want you to make another video and officially become their under cover, classified informant at the club. I’m angry because I know you’re going do it and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop you.”
“I’m sorry you don’t understand how much it means to me to do this, despite the risks to my safety.”
“Why?” he shouted, losing his patience with her motive. “To bring back a sister who has never stepped up for you? Who won’t even acknowledge your existence? Do you think by doing this, you’ll get them to welcome you back into the fold with open arms?” Flynn shook his head and grasped her by the shoulders and shook her. “They don’t give a fuck about you, Isa, and yet you’ve broken the law and compromised not only your dignity but your safety for them.” When he realized he was physically hurting her, Flynn let her go. “Are you so desperate for their approval that you’re willing to sacrifice your life?”
Tears filled her eyes, then spilled down her cheeks.
“At least I’m willing to take the shot, Flynn. Something you’ll never do.”
Turning, she walked back into the house, leaving him standing on the porch, never feeling more alone in his life.
Chapter Twenty
Decked out in her Surf’s Up uniform—pink string bikini, blue spike wig, full-blown makeup, and pink peek-a-boo heels—Izzy paced nervously in the small living room as Justin typed up a summary of what they had discussed and how it was all going down.
From the moment she strode into the room fifteen minutes ago, Flynn’s disposition had deteriorated from agitated to enraged. He’d taken one look at her, told Maddox and Justin to shut their fucking mouths, and asked her if she could spare them all some pain and cover herself until they were ready to roll.
“You didn’t have a problem with my attire Saturday night, Flynn, why now?”
She knew damn well what had changed, and damn if she was going to let him boss her around. She wasn’t an exhibitionist, but she worked hard to stay in shape and had no inhibitions about her body.
Instead of arguing with her, Flynn shut up, but he didn’t take his eyes off her for a minute.
The other two men—Justin, who was still inputting information on his laptop and Maddox, who suddenly found the floor interesting—quickly assumed their poker faces when she put her hands on her hips and said, “I’d like to get this over with as soon as possible.”
“One more minute,” Justin said, not looking up.
Izzy found herself at the center of an elaborate sting operation. Once Justin had the paperwork written up, she would sign the document in which she was agreeing to become a classified informant and work undercover for the San Francisco Police Department. Though they offered her compensation, she declined. Her willingness to find Alex was not, despite what Flynn said, to get back into the family fold, but for Izzy’s own peace of mind. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t doing this for Alex. She was doing it for herself. Had she met her sister when Alex begged her to, she might have been able to help her. But she hadn’t. She loved her sister and didn’t bear her any ill will. If there was a way to get her back, Izzy would do everything she could to that end.
What had started out a few months ago as a simple snooping around the club for info about Alex had turned into a full-blown federal task force operation she was now a key player in. It scared her to death. She could back out. Instead, she put her trust in the three men in the room. Part of the trust entailed agreeing to re-create a video.
When Maddox, her “handler” as he’d been dubbed, along with his task force supervisor, Justin, asked her to make another video with Flynn, her initial reaction was no way.
“We want Boris to make contact with Agent Ryker,” Justin explained. “Once he does, he’ll show him the video and name his price for not going public with it. We’ll have what we need to bring him in on RICO charges. We’ll offer him a deal if he agrees to talk. While I can’t guarantee he will give us information on your sister, Miss Fuentes, I guarantee you I will lean as hard on him as I can to get the information.”
“What if he doesn’t?” she asked.
“Then we find another way, but you need to understand, there is nothing you can do that will incite Sorlov to give you any information on the whereabouts of your sister. Once he knows you suspect him of being responsible in some way for her disappearance, you’ll disappear next. That I can guarantee you.”
When she glanced at Flynn, he looked even less inclined to recreate a video than she did. It had pissed her off. Did she repulse him that much? Out of spite she knew she’d agree to do it.
Heart pounding, she didn’t know if she could do it. Despite Flynn’s hands-off approach with her, he affected her on such a deep level she was afraid that if they engaged in any type of physical act, staged or otherwise, she’d fall harder, deeper, and drown. And what if she, well, became so aroused she embarrassed them both?
Despite her monumental efforts to erase him from her heart, Izzy had made little progress getting him out of her head since the moment she’d laid eyes on him at the club Saturday night. He’d touched something in her she didn’t know existed. An ache for him far more consuming than the need for recognition from her father. If she did this, she’d have to reboot the de-Flynning process.
She didn’t want to want him. Need him. Ache like she did for him.
Unease rolled through her. Did she even have a choice? No. She didn’t. Not when her choice to give the task force whatever they needed her to do went beyond Alex now. This was for all the other women out there who could fall prey to Boris’s exploitive business practices. An incriminating video was not only key to getting an audience with Boris, but now it was key to the sting operation stinging. Boris would use it to blackmail Flynn and then they’d have him.