Reaching for her phone, she stopped halfway. He needed time to think and she needed to sleep on her revelation. Not that she would change her mind, but to let it simmer. And tomorrow put together a game plan.
Rolling over, she punched her pillow. It was almost two a.m. and she hadn’t slept a wink since the previous night. She needed to sleep. Reaching to the nightstand, she grabbed the windup clock and stuffed it between the mattress and box spring. It had been driving her crazy.
Closing her eyes, she sighed and started to count backward from one hundred…
Parked in his SUV across the street, drinking coffee, Flynn watched the shadows move around Pink’s little house. When the bedroom light went out, he imagined her creamy naked body slipping between the cool sheets. He wanted to be there. To feel the soft warmth of her skin against his. Stroke her silky hair, kiss her lush lips, and caress her bodacious breasts. He wanted the quiet time to hold her. Fall asleep in her arms and wake up inside of her.
His dick swelled in his pants as he imagined her arching into him, her hungry lips parted, her pearly white teeth biting her bottom lip as she hissed in a long luxurious breath.
Jesus Christ, he could not remember wanting anything as badly as he wanted her. Want collided with need. She was as unique as a snowflake. And as perfect. He should march right into her house and demand she take a chance on him because he was willing to take a chance on her.
What if it didn’t work out? He didn’t want to hurt her. It had never occurred to him that she might be the one to walk away. Feeling gut-punched at the thought, Flynn shook his head. He’d go insane if she walked out of his life for another man. Just the thought of her with Mad Dog ate at him.
Give him a gun and turn him loose in a room full of bad guys with bigger guns and he had no fear. Ask him to make a commitment to Pink and he ran for the hills.
The reel repeated itself in Flynn’s brain all night. When the sun rose over the little house, he stretched. Jack was on his way. He was going to take the day shift. Simon would relieve him around two, then Flynn would be back at nine. Pink might not think she was in danger, but Flynn knew otherwise. Whoever was behind the white van incident was behind the previous incidents. They were persistent and they knew where she worked and where she lived. What bothered Flynn the most about the incidents was that his gut told him they had nothing to do with Sorlov. They had begun last year before she knew the Surf’s Up club even existed. There was something else lurking behind the shadows…
Izzy woke to the rain. For a long time she lay in bed listening to it, thinking how much more she would enjoy it if Flynn were lying beside her. She smiled; or better yet, under her. Stretching, she forced herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Slogging her way to the kitchen she fixed what was left of the coffee. As it brewed, she opened the fridge and scowled. She needed to go to the store. The provisions Flynn had brought were just about gone. There was enough for a decent breakfast, but nothing more.
It was pouring outside. If the weather let up some, she would walk to Casper’s, the little neighborhood market, a few blocks away. They were organic certified and while a little costly, it was worth the splurge.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she sipped her coffee and booted up her laptop. Flynn was prominent on her mind. She’d dreamt of him. He was her first thought before she opened her eyes and the last one when she had closed them last night. She thought of him now. Sitting at the table eating breakfast. Smiling at her dumb jokes. Brushing her bangs from her face as he told her how much he loved touching her.
Her chest tightened. Did he, she wondered, have any idea what he did to her? How he had made her feel? As alive as he had made her feel, she felt empty now. Her confidence last night in her ability to win Flynn’s heart with patience went by the wayside. Who was she kidding? He didn’t need anyone, he had himself.
Izzy remembered the big Anatolian shepherd, Turk, her father had brought home to guard the house when she was eight years old. Turk had the run of the property. No one got past the gate. He had been a handful, a dangerous animal, and her father had warned her to stay away from him. But Izzy was drawn to the big rough-and-tumble dog. She was patient with Turk. Eventually his loyalty to her rose above his loyalty to the rest of the family. The night she was kicked out, Turk sensed something was terribly wrong. He’d fought his way out of the house to run after her and her mother.
When her father commanded him to return from the driveway, Turk looked over his shoulder, but stayed loyal to Izzy. Crying, she had buried her face in his fur as she told him to go. He refused even as she screamed at him to return home, pointing to the house. Steadfastly he refused. It was harder walking away from that big protective boy than it had been to leave her sister, who didn’t blink when the shit hit the fan. Turk stood loyal. It wasn’t until her father leashed him and told her to get out of his sight and never darken his doorstep again that she was able to leave.
All these years later she could still hear Turk’s pitiful howls for her return.
He didn’t understand why she left. If she could have taken him with her, she would have. But he wasn’t hers to have.
Sighing heavily, Izzy thought Flynn would be a lot like Turk if she was as patient with him. What if after all her efforts she was the one left alone and howling on the driveway?
Rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she groaned. Izzy couldn’t live the way her mother had. Miserable because the man she loved had broken her heart. Izzy wasn’t the type of person to dabble. She was either fully committed or she was completely out. It was the only way she knew how to do things. Nothing halfway. It had gotten her through college and into law school.
It would be the same with Flynn. In or out. Rinsing her coffee cup, she set it in the sink. Last night the answer was simple. Now she wasn’t sure. Not of her feelings for Flynn, but of her feelings for herself. She’d suffered enough pain, humiliation, and rejection for a lifetime.
Going all in for Flynn was a gamble. If she hit the jackpot, the rewards would be priceless. If she rolled the dice and lost, the cost would be disastrous.
As the day wore on, Izzy changed her mind every five minutes. Each time she did, she was sure she had made the right decision for her mental health and well-being.
When she slipped beneath the sheets that night and closed her eyes, her head hurt. In the recesses of her mind and in the depths of her heart, Izzy knew she could not pass up the chance to win Flynn’s heart. On that note, the rain started to come down again. Smiling, she drifted off into Flynn dreamland…
…Izzy started, her eyes popping open. A sound had woken her. Her body tightened. There it was again. From the kitchen door, the scrape of metal on metal as if someone was picking her lock and not caring if she heard.
Grabbing for her cell phone, she stifled a cry when she realized she’d left it on the charger in the kitchen. The creak of the kitchen door slowly opening propelled her from her bed across the hall to Charlie’s room, where she knew he had a big wrench he used to weigh down his Brad Pitt blow-up doll.
Grabbing it, Izzy pushed Brad out of her way when he bounced in front of her.
There was a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by the sound of a fist meeting flesh and bones. Then a grunt, another crash; this time it sounded like her kitchen table had splintered into pieces. More grunts.
Who the hell was fighting in her kitchen? And why?
Flattening against the wall, wrench clutched like a club in her right hand, Izzy inched down the hall. It sounded as if the fight had moved from her kitchen outside to the side porch. The steady rain muffled the sounds.