“Less paper for me,” the cop said.  “K-9 en route.”

Flynn glanced up at Izzy and waved her back into the house. Only because she was dressed in a T-shirt and panties and didn’t want to give OPD a free show did she do what he commanded.

She watched Flynn hold out his hands while a tech swabbed his hands. He walked to his SUV and took out a bag.  Striding back to the house he gave short curt orders.  A tech handed him a large paper bag.  Flynn proceeded into the house and into her bathroom.  Several moments later he emerged dressed in sweats, a tee-shirt and running shoes, carrying the paper bag with his clothing in it.

“Why did you change?” she asked.

Holding up the bag, Flynn said, “Could be transfer DNA from the bad guy. If there is, the lab will run it through CODIS and hopefully get a hit. Go get dressed,” he commanded.

He was awfully bossy.

Izzy put on a bra, changed into yoga pants, and was making her way back to the kitchen, when Flynn intercepted her.  “Your house is officially a crime scene.  Pack a bag, call your roommate and tell him to steer clear until further notice. We’re leaving.”

“But I can’t—”

Moving her against the wall with his big body, Flynn lowered his head and said firmly,  “Of course you can. Now stop arguing with me.”

“I’m not going to stay with you.”  It just came out.  She wanted to stay with him, but now that she’d said it, she couldn’t take it back.  Besides, he needed to know he couldn’t boss her around this way.

“Then stay at a hotel.”

“Fine,” she said and strode to her room to pack a bag. As she packed her bag, she cursed her temper.  She’d just blown the perfect opportunity to be with Flynn.  Not only that, she had no way of paying for a hotel. She barely had enough in her account to pay her half of the rent next month.

When she walked into the small living room, Flynn was seated on the sofa with a very cute female paramedic tending him.  Her ample bust was level with his mouth as she bent over his head.  It irked Izzy.  It must have shown on her face because Flynn grinned.  Whatever.

“Doesn’t look like stitches, Flynn,” the paramedic said, “It’s the head and it bleeds. But you could be concussed.  I strongly recommend that you let us give you a ride to the ER to get checked out.”

“I know the signs.  If I feel the need I’ll take myself in,” he said, brushing aside her concern.

When she stepped back and caught sight of Izzy, she made a little frowny face.  Yeah, Izzy couldn’t blame her.  Flynn had the same effect on her.

A few minutes later, she and Flynn exited through the front door.  The rain had started up again, heavier now.  Numerous cop cars and unmarked cars were stacked up in the street.  There were people in her kitchen and around her house with flashlights, along with the sound of a barking dog she spotted in the back of a police car.

From what she’d overheard while she was packing, the dog had picked up the scent, even in the rain, but it stopped behind the house that backed up to hers.  The bad guy must have come that way through her back neighbor’s yard, having parked his getaway car there.

“Isn’t all of this a bit of overkill?” she asked. “We were due to get hit.” Breaking and enterings in Oakland were not unheard of; in fact, in her neighborhood they were the crime de jour.  It was just a matter of time before they got hit.

Jaw tight, hand on her elbow, Flynn steered her across the street to his SUV.  Taking her bag, he helped her in, then tossed the bag into the backseat on his way around to the driver’s door.  As he got into his seat, he turned the key and she was sure that if it wasn’t raining so hard, he’d have peeled out.

“Do you know what I found in the grass, next to where I left the intruder?” Flynn asked, his voice clipped

“His wallet?” she joked.

“A syringe.  Mostly likely filled with enough tranquilizer to knock you out for several hours.”

She gasped.

“I told you, you have a target on your back, Isa. Do you believe me now?”

As she realized the thing the bad guy wanted to steal was her, she started shaking.  “Yes,” she said, then looked up at him.  “But why?”

“I don’t know. What do you have that makes you worth kidnapping?”

“I don’t know!  I keep to myself.”

“Could it be that Andre or Boris is on to you?”

“No. Boris rarely comes in.  Other than the one time I served him and his cronies drinks in his office, we haven’t been in the same breathing space. And Andre, he looks out for us.  I’ve never given him any reason to want to hurt me.”

“Except not delivering the video and asking questions about Jasmyn, a stripper who disappeared from the club.”

She shook her head vehemently.  “By your description it wasn’t Andre. I promised him a new video if my phone didn’t turn up.”

“You also told him you’d only turn it over to Boris. Doesn’t mean he didn’t hire out his dirty work. Maybe Andre has some side action of his own.”

“I don’t see it, but—” She choked back a sob.  “I guess anything is possible.”

“You’re damn right it is.”

For the next few minutes they drove in silence, until she realized where they were headed.  Piedmont.  “There’s a little motel right off Route Thirteen.  It’s called the Hideaway, I think. Please take me there,” she said calmly.

“That place is infested with prostitutes and dealers.”

“It’s all I can afford.” She couldn’t even handle that.  She’d just have to work double shifts at the club to pay for it.

“I’ll take you to the Claremont.”

“I can’t afford that!”

“I can.”

“No, Flynn, I don’t accept.”

“It’s either the Claremont or my place.”

“I—why do you get to decide where I stay?”

“Because I know what’s best for you right now.”

Fifteen minutes later as they pulled into his garage and the heavy door came down behind them, Izzy panicked. If she went in there willingly, she was giving herself permission to let down every single wall she had constructed around herself.  “I can’t go in there.” Not yet.

Flynn opened his door and said, “Suit yourself.”  Slamming it, he proceeded to take her bag out of the backseat and go into the house, but not before turning the garage lights off.

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.