CHAPTER1
FLYNN
THREE WEEKS LATER
As the plane touches down at Seattle airport, the smile on my lips was put there by the thought of Wesley wondering where the fuck I’ve gone.
It’s not unusual for me to take off. He knows me by now, but I have been gone for one week already and my phone is lit with abusive texts and threats from the bastard himself.
As the commercial jet taxis to the stand, I dash out a reply and hit send with a soft laugh.
I’m on vacation, uncle.
I’ll text you when I’m home.
The fact it’s not unusual buys me more time and I’m guessing he’s given up trying to understand me by now. I know I frustrate him, and the bastard is deluded if he thinks I can’t look after myself and is probably thinking I’ve hooked up with a chick in Bora Bora or something.
I probably only have one more week at the most before his patience runs out and so I need to act fast.
If I’m nervous at all, it doesn’t show and as I grab a cab and rattle off the address, only his raised eyebrows tell me he’s impressed.
I’m guessing he doesn’t get many customers heading to Denny-Blaine, and certainly not one looking like me.
I can’t help the threatening aura I dress in every morning. I shrug it on when I reach for my gun. I get that I intimidate people, hell I make a career of it, and I hide behind the mask of ‘don’t fuck with me’ because I prefer it this way. Now I’m wondering if I should tone it down a little. The woman I have come to see may not appreciate the fuck off attitude and dark smoldering eyes. I’m guessing she’s used to a different kind of visitor, and yet how can I pretend to be something I’m not? This is who I am, not who I want to be, and I need her help to see if there is anything worth salvaging in this sorry carcass that was inflicted on the world courtesy of her womb.
We reach the outskirts of the neighborhood they live, and it’s as if the air is fresher here, with more oxygen, pure even. As the houses grow in size and are surrounded by parkland, I can tell my mother has fallen on her feet at least. I should be resentful of that, but until I’ve heard her story, I’m happy for her. I’m hoping she has a good explanation for what happened to me and I’m not sure I can deal with hearing she gave me up willingly.
All my life I’ve lived with rejection, pain, and loneliness. Me against the world until I met my brothers at college and finally found a place I belonged. Do I belong here with her? I’m pretty nervous about that and as the car rolls into the driveway and stops short of huge wooden gates, I experience a moment’s doubt that I did the right thing in showing up here at all.
The driver lowers his window and presses the intercom and my mouth dries as he looks over his shoulder and barks, “Your name?”
I’m not a man who is prone to panic attacks, but now seems a good place to start and my voice doesn’t even sound like mine as I whisper, “Flynn Vasquez.”
Now I feel like a fool because why the fuck would they let me in and as he speaks the words, I curse my own stupidity.
I hear the voice on the intercom say sharply, “Wait there. Someone will be out to speak with you.”
And my heart sinks. This may prove more difficult than I thought.
I watch as a side gate opens, and the security guard appears, staring with suspicion in my direction.
Trying hard to appear normal, I smile and step out of the cab.
“Hi, um, they aren’t expecting me, but I’m here to see Vivian Clark.”
“You’re not on the list.”
He looks bored, unconcerned even, and I nod. “I know. It’s just, well, it’s very important that I see her. If you could maybe just pass a message on, I would be grateful.”
“What message?”
The guy looks bored already and I say quickly, “Could you tell her that I was sent by Iris Young?”
He nods and heads back the way he came and I’m hoping like hell this gamble will pay off.
The cab driver throws me a pitying look which doesn’t make me feel any better about things and it seems like an eternity before the guy heads back and regards me with a different expression from the one before.
“Follow me.”