Page 47 of Sins of a King

“No hope for it then.” I opened the door and caught my breath. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of seeing Flynn fill out a doorway. It was like he occupied all the empty space.

His intense eyes slid from me and glanced at Jack. Reaching out his hand, he said, “Jack. Good to see you again.”

With a look of astonishment, Jack clasped Flynn’s hand. “You too. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got somewhere to be.” He smiled in my direction, and then was gone.

“You’re upset,” Flynn said as I closed the door.

“I have no right to be, do I?”

“But you are.”

“We’re not a couple. You don’t owe me an explanation. But you do owe me some common courtesy.”

“You’re right.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. The night I was with you, I got a call about Chelsea. She’s missing.”

Icy fear balled in my stomach. “Missing?”

He nodded. “She’s the one who’s been bringing drugs into the club. I still don’t have any idea who put her up to it, though. And now she’s disappeared. Brad and my men were trying to find her trail, but it’s gone cold.”

“You couldn’t shoot me a text to tell me this? You had to ignore me completely?”

“You’re right. I didn’t handle it well.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not used to having to answer to a woman.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“What I mean to say is that I’m not used to having a woman I want to answer to.”

He took a step closer, but he left it up to me to cross the emotional and physical distance between us. I didn’t question what was happening, I just went with what I was feeling. And I was feeling scared and in need of assurance.

I pressed my face against his chest, breathing in and closing my eyes. His hands went to my head, stroking my hair, holding me close.

Where was Chelsea? Was she hurt? Was she going to hurt us? “What do we do, Flynn?” I whispered.

“I don’t have a fucking idea.”

We spent the night in my bed, but all we did was talk. For the first time since I met him, I felt like he was trying to open up to me. Worry for Chelsea weighed heavily on the both of us.

“The longer she’s missing, the greater chance she’s…” he trailed off.

“Yeah, I know.” It made me sick to think about. “Any leads on who she’s working with?”

“Not at the moment. Three days of brainstorming and following dead-ends. I hate being out of control.”

He pulled me into his arms, and I must have dozed because the next thing I knew, it was dawn and Flynn was kissing me goodbye. I rolled over and went back to sleep. When I woke up a few hours later, my mind was on Chelsea and all the variables of unknown. Nothing cleared my head like a run, so I dragged my butt out of bed and threw on some exercise clothes.

I did a warm-up jog on my way to Central Park, feeling my hamstrings stretch and my lungs expand. It was early on a weekday, so I had most of the pathway to myself. After a while, I had a good rhythm. I never ran with ear buds because I liked to be aware of my surroundings, and most of the time the park was congested with bike and foot traffic. It would be so easy to get run over.

I heard the steady sound of running footsteps behind me and moved to the right to share the path. The runner didn’t pass me and instead sidled close.

Too close.

Turning my head ever so slightly, I let out a gasp when I saw who was next to me.

Chelsea was dressed in black running clothes and a baseball hat.

“Where have you been?” I asked. “Everyone is worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”