Chapter 7 Kaia #2
Without knowing where I was being held captive, using the length of the journey to guestimate where I am is impossible.
Maybe this is why Flynn’s so amused. I can’t leave and I can’t run.
“So,” I say with a sigh, masking my irritation. “Can we get this little exchange out of the way and go on with our lives?”
Flynn, deep in discussion with an armed man that’s too far away for me to overhear, doesn’t acknowledge me.
I narrow my eyes at his back, but just as the urge to say something outlandish to get his attention rises Frank distracts me.
He pulls what resembles an electronic tablet from his waistcoat and turns it on with a few taps of the screen.
It flickers to life with colors and windows that I’ve never seen before, but as he moves his fingers across the screen it clicks in my mind.
The screen displays a top-down view of the warehouse in front of us. Tearing my eyes from the screen, I glance up, but the bright blue sky and scorching midday sun block out my attempts to locate the drone transmitting the pictures.
“Flynn,” Frank says with a voice much lower than the tone I used. “We’ve got eyes.”
Flynn breaks away from his conversation and joins us, standing behind me. My heart lurches.
He stands so close that heat radiates from his body and warms the back of my bare arm, and each breath in is laced by a subtle smokey sweetness that floats off his skin.
If I didn’t hate him, I’d think it was nice.
“Anything?” Flynn asks, his voice rumbling through the air above me.
I refuse to look up but just hearing his voice sends a strange tingle down my spine and I’m forced to bite my tongue to control myself.
It’s like every part of my body ravished by him the other night is disconnected from who and what he is.
A monster.
“Nothing,” Frank replies. He taps the screen and different colors overlay across the warehouse as the drone flies.
It’s not until the drone drifts closer to our location and I glimpse a cluster of orange specs that I realize he’s using thermal vision to detect people.
But there’s no one in the warehouse. My brow tightens. “Are we here first?”
“No,” Flynn replies with surprising honesty. “I intentionally made us arrive late.”
“Why?” Finally, I look up at him and my breath catches in my throat. His skin glows even darker under the sun and the sharp angle of his jaw gives me the strongest urge to bite it.
Flynn doesn’t reply but his eyes drop down to the ground and he scans around us, searching for something I can’t decipher until he walks away and crouches down to the ground.
Flynn returns with a rock in his hand, tossing it up and down while his jaw ticks to the side like he’s chewing over his thoughts.
Then he pulls his arm back and I watch, transfixed, as the material of his shirt tightens over that gorgeously sculpted body I scratched the hell out of the other night.
Something is really wrong with me.
Flynn throws his arm forward and his entire body follows, launching the rock through the air in an impressive arc.
We all watch as the rock sails through the air and crashes through one of the upper windows of the warehouse, and we hear every clatter of the rock on its way down to the floor echoes through the doors.
“Empty?” Confusion swirls in my gut, but as I blink a sudden deafening crack splits the air and a rush of force blasts across the parking lot as the warehouse explodes into a gigantic ball of flame.
Windows shatter, sending a hail of broken glass out into the world, walls rip over from the force of the blast, and I’m knocked clean off my feet by the same force as it radiates through the air.
Several of the guards are knocked into the cars and I glimpse one toppling over the hood as I hit the ground hard and my head cracks back against the stone.
Stars burst in front of my eyes and I’m staring up, numb, at a thousand twinkling stars.
Why are they out in the daytime?
What’s happening?
It’s not until Flynn’s body lands on top of mine and he cradles the back of my head, tucking my face into his neck, that I realize those aren’t stars.
It’s glass.
The shards and more rain down around us as the first explosion triples.
Each blast sends an electric jolt through my body and despite Flynn’s weight on top of me, suddenly I’m back at home.
Anya’s dead on the ground. Explosions burst in front outside and Vic’s dragging me by the hand and saying things I can’t hear.
Without thinking it through, I clutch at Flynn as tightly as I can.
His shirt balls up against my palms and my nailbeds ache from how fiercely my fingertips dig into his waist.
As soon as it starts, it’s over.
The world falls quieter with only the loud crack of open flame and the clunk of falling beams and timber for ambience.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
Part of me is frozen and the rest of me is pinned under Flynn. Footsteps stumble about around us, then Frank’s voice drifts somewhere from above.
“You good?”
“Mhm.” The noise rumbles through Flynn’s chest and vibrates against my fingertips.
Just as I give in and enjoy the protective warmth and soft scent, he stands abruptly, and I’m left lying there, squinting up at the calm blue sky while he holds out a hand to me.
“Are you hurt?” Flynn asks.
My lips part but no sound escapes.
It’s only a second, but the fact that he threw himself over me to protect me leads to a surge of confusion in my heart.
For a man who wants me and my family dead, he’s doing a damn good job of keeping me alive.
“Is she hurt?” Frank asks as my silence drags on and he also appears above me with his brows twisted in a way that could be confused for real concern.
“No,” I choke out as I reach up for Flynn’s hand.
His warm, rough palm connects with mine and he pulls me swiftly to my feet like I’m utterly weightless.
It’s so fast I stumble and he places his other hand on the small of my back to help steady me.
Around me, there’s carnage.
The ground is covered in shards of glass and debris while several of the guards have cuts and scratches on their faces and arms.
The warehouse behind Flynn is completely ablaze with smoke streaking a dark stain across the sky.
“Holy shit,” I gasp and a thank you hovers on the tip of my tongue, but it never sees the light of day because Flynn ruins it by speaking.
“The famous Yudkin hospitality,” he remarks sharply. “Anyone would think he wants you dead. Are you even a real Yudkin?” The gentility of his hand against my back is replaced by an accusatory prod to the shoulder. “Are you a servant trying to buy your survival with lies?”
Something’s…different.
The confident man who protected my body with his has been instantly replaced by this dark, scowling man who glares at me with hatred nestled in the silver pools of his eyes.
There’s something else there too, something akin to agony.
As we stare at each other, I’m struck by how similar his gaze looks to my own reflection.
“Or do you Yudkin just not care for family?” he sneers.
My mood darkens immediately and I surge forward, shoving both my hands into his chest even though he doesn’t move. “Fuck you! What did you expect, huh? You’re really surprised my uncle would try to kill you after the shit you pulled?”
“The shit I pulled?” Flynn glowers at me. “In case it escaped your notice, I brought you. What does that tell you about how I valued this exchange? I gave too much credit to a family of scum.”
“Fuck you!” My next surge toward him is prevented by Frank’s firm arm around my waist, but that doesn’t stop me from struggling against him and desperately swinging my fists, eager for contact.
“Scum? Building a fucking reputation like yours and have the audacity to look down on me? You did this, Flynn! Whatever the fuck it is you’re after, you probably don’t even deserve it anyway.
I mean, you’ve murdered my family, kidnapped me, and now you’re acting all hurt that your precious little deal didn’t go the way you orchestrated?
” My elbow flies back toward Frank. “Let me go!”
Frank does no such thing and narrowly avoids my elbow hitting him in the eye.
“If your family’s commitment matches their poor attempt to take my life, then I’ve grossly overestimated them,” Flynn replies darkly.
“Just because we aren’t as well-versed in murder like you are doesn’t mean we won’t see it through!”
A cold, dry laugh escapes Flynn. He turns away, raising one hand. “Put her in a different car, Frank. I don’t want to look at her.”