Page 18 of Flynn

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” Turning to look at the man who was practically foaming at the mouth, the judge added. “Mr. Resling, I would advise you not to say another word-”

“I don’t care!” He screeched. “I am glad the bitch is dead. If given the chance, I would kill her again. Worthless bitch!”

“Guards! Restrain this man.” The judge ordered.

*****

Ryleigh descended the never-ending steps to lean against the towering pillar, her hand reaching her stomach. She had escaped during the confusion and was cursing that she had chosen to take a cab instead of driving her car. But parking at the courthouse was always impossible.

And she was going to be sick. Right here at the busy courthouse, where tons of people were constantly coming and going, and more than likely a reporter or two lurked around to get a scoop on her, she was swallowing nausea and easing off the cold stone when a car slid to a stop right at her feet.

“Get in.” A familiar deep voice ordered just as the passenger door was pushed open.

Straightening up, she did not take the time to wonder what quirk of luck had brought him here at the right moment. Hurrying towards the vehicle, she slid in, unconsciously appreciating the butter-soft leather as it molded to her butt.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes and took several breaths.

“Where to?”

She had almost forgotten the man seated in the driver’s seat. Flynn Zimmermann looked larger than life, his thick dark hair windblown, amber eyes alert and sharp. And she had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life.

He seemed solid and knew exactly what was going on with her. What was he doing here in the vicinity when she needed him the most?

“I-” Pressing a hand to her stomach, she doubled over.

“What the hell is it?”

“Pull over.” She whispered. “Now.”

He did not bother asking any questions. Seeing a break in the busy downtown traffic, he swung right and settled for an empty wooded area near the park due to the icy weather. Before shoving the lever into the park, Ryleigh pushed the door open and raced to the nearby thick oak tree.

Flinging his door open, he raced towards her just in time to see her puking as if she would not stop. He stood helplessly behind her before holding her shoulders and brushing back her hair, which had gotten loose from the tidy chignon.

When she was finished, she leaned back against him weakly, her fingers clutching his as he wrapped his hands around her waist.

“Better?” he murmured.

“Kind of.”

“Ready to go back to the car?”

She nodded, and he guided her back and secured the seatbelt. Going to his side, he reached into the back and touched a button. A cabinet slid forward, and he handed her a bottle of water.

Unscrewing the cap, she swished some in her mouth and spat it out the window before drinking the rest. “Thanks. I am ready to go back to work-”

“No.” Shoving at the lever, he edged into traffic. “You are going home. Call work and tell them you are through for the day.”

His arrogance took her breath away, and she was about to blast him with her ire when she realized he was right. She was not in a position to go back to the office.

Taking the phone out, she called her assistant and briefly told her that she was not feeling well and would be out for the rest of the day. Then she issued some instructions and hung up.

“You need my address.”

“I already have it.”

“Of course you do.” Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and rubbed her stomach.

“Were you in the neighborhood?”

---