Izzy appreciated that. Grabbing her bag from the backseat, she let herself out and didn’t look over her shoulder. Because Flynn was right, she had this.
Flynn stepped on it. Pink would beat him across the bay. There were cops on the platform, on the train, and one would be sitting beside her and she wouldn’t even realize it. It was Flynn’s deal-breaker condition: A man on her every step of the way.
He called in. “UC en route,” he said.
He made it across the bridge and into the parking lot adjacent to the Red Door in record time. Every minute that ticked by, Flynn’s muscles tightened more. By the time he strode down the alley and into the condemned building, Flynn was on pins and needles.
Pink had just made her way onto the bus that would stop half a block from the club.
He put a set of ears on and wished he could talk to her. Tell her how proud of her he was and how much he loved her.
His heart stumbled when he realized she was humming “Earned It.”
The air brakes of the bus signaled its stop.
“Getting off the bus, boys, and headed to the club,” she said, and then resumed humming their song.
Her cell phone rang.
“What, Andre?” she answered, irritated.
Flynn looked to Justin.
Andre’s voice came through loud and clear. “Boris say you come meet at his house now.”
Flynn stood up so suddenly the chair hit the floor.
“That’s not going to work for me, Andre,” Izzy said.
“You want raise, you go,” the giant insisted.
“But if I don’t work tonight, I don’t get paid!”
“He pay for time and video.”
Flynn threw his ear buds off and said, “No fucking way,” bolting for the back door. As he opened the door, he turned to Justin and quickly said, “Call my cell and put yours on speaker. I want to hear every bit of what’s going down until I get to her.”
“We’ve got eyes and ears on her, Ryker!” Justin called, but Flynn had already tuned him out. Panic, anger, frustration, and fear collided like huge lead balls in Flynn’s gut. If Sorlov got a hold of her, she’d end up where her sister had, or worse. While Flynn didn’t have confirmation, his gut told him she’d been sold off into the white slave market. Probably chained to a wall in some sex dungeon. It was one of the reasons he had kept the news of Alex’s presumed alive status to himself, as well as any speculation to where she might be. He’d stake his reputation on his hunch.
His cell rang. “Ryker,” he answered, as he turned the corner and watched a big bald guy grab Pink and usher her into the back of a black town car. Flynn gave them the plate number. Before he could get to her, the man was in the driver’s seat and pulling away from the curb.
“Got it,” Justin said. “Our girl is keeping cool.”
Flynn pulled his ear buds from his jacket pocket and fitted them into his ears, then inserted the plug into his phone and adjusted the controller. “How much distance do we have before we start to lose transmission?” Flynn asked.
“Fifteen miles as the crow flies.”
Flynn exhaled. If they stayed within the city limits, chances were they could keep contact without having to move equipment.
His gut wrenched when Pink’s voice came through loud and clear. “Hello, Mr. Bushnik,” she chirped. “I appreciate the ride to Mr. Sorlov’s house, but I really need to work tonight. A girl has bills to pay, ya know,” she said nonchalantly as she chomped on gum.
Flynn had parked in the adjacent lot. He jumped into his SUV and turned down O’Farrell in the same direction as the town car.
“We did not have a chance to get better acquainted last night, Wild Style,” Bushnik said suavely.
“Yeah, about that. That guy that coldcocked Andre? He’s a fed, so I wouldn’t mess with him.”
“An FBI agent?”
“Yeah.” She popped her gum. “A possessive one. If he knew I was in this car with you right now, he’d blow a gasket.”
“Is this FBI agent your boyfriend?”
“Heck no! He’s crazy. And rough. See what he did to my arms after he decked Andre?”
Flynn shook his head as he imagined Pink sliding up her shirtsleeve and showing him the makeup bruises.
“He blamed me for what Andre did.”
“How did you meet this agent?”
Pink chuckled. “I gave him a lap dance. I guess he liked it, coz I can’t shake him.”
“I was disappointed last night that you left us so abruptly. I hope that you will allow me to show you how hospitable a Russian gentleman can be.”
Flynn cringed. Then slammed his fists on the steering wheel when the town car made the light and he was stuck behind several cars at the red. Each second that ticked by was a second she moved farther away. San Francisco was a congested labyrinth of narrow one-way streets. His best bet was keeping the town car in sight. Hopefully Pink would remember to give them verbal clues to assist with her location.
“That will depend on how my meeting with Mr. Sorlov goes.”
“Perhaps I can ensure your success.”
“Oh. You can do that?”
“I can do many things.”
“I’m confused, I thought you were an out-of-town relative of Boris’s.”
The Russian laughed. “Often things are not as they appear. Take you, for example.”
“Me?”
“You are like a fresh breeze in a smoky bar. A fish, as you Americans like to say, out of water. I think you are far more intelligent than you let on. Why is that?”
“Most men don’t like a smart woman. It makes them feel insecure. Being the smart girl that I am, I dumb down when the occasion warrants.”
“I am among the minority, then. I have high regard for an intelligent woman. Equal regard for a beautiful one.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Bushnik. I like a smart man in a nice wrapper myself.”
“Are you in a relationship?”
“I will be, with my professors.”
“A college girl?”
“Law school in the fall.”
“I am impressed, Wild Style.”
“You can call me Izzy.”
“You may call me Miro.”
Flynn clenched his jaw so hard, he swore it was going to crack.
“Ah, here we are,” Bushnik, said.
“Interesting that Mr. Sorlov would live next to the Russian consulate.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Um, Mr. Bushni—Miro, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but Boris is a crook.”
The Russian laughed. “You are quite charming, Izzy. Nicolai, wait here. Now come, Izzy, let’s go see this Boris the crook.”
“Did you get that, Justin? She’s next to the consulate on Green. Black town car out front.”
“We’re rolling, Ryker, fifteen minutes out.”
“Wow, this is really nice,” Pink said. “Are all Russian doormen as big as him? He makes Andre look like a boy.”
Good girl, keep giving me the lay of the land.
“Not all of them, but the people who ensure my safety are.”
Izzy felt suddenly alone as the heavy door closed behind her. Trepidation scraped an icy finger down her spine. The fine hair on the back of her neck rose. This place gave her the creeps.
The mansion was large, and dark, the lingering scent of women’s perfume and cigar smoke hung oppressively in the air. Instinctively, she knew Alex had walked through the same doors. How had she left? “Presumed alive” was one thing; on her own two feet was another.
Praying with every fiber of her being, Izzy hoped that her belly button ring transmitter was still in range and that Flynn knew where she was and was close by. She had tried to keep the conversation with Mr. Bushnik light and as truthful as she could while at the same time pulling information from the Russian.