Page 27 of Ruthless Cross

"You, too." Melissa turned back to Callie. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, but thanks."

"How is your mother?"

"She's having a hard time, but she'll be all right."

"Do they know who killed Judge Corbyn?"

"Not yet."

"It's unbelievable."

"It feels surreal to me, too," Callie admitted.

"Well, the least I can do is cook you a good meal. Do you both like salmon?"

"You know I do," Callie replied.

"I love salmon," he said, at Melissa's enquiring gaze.

"Then if you'll leave it to me, I'd love to make you both something special, and it will be on the house."

"We'd love to leave our meal in your hands," Flynn said. "But we'll definitely pay."

"Absolutely not," Melissa said. "Callie helped me move last month, so I owe her a meal anyway, and if you're helping her get through this terrible situation, I'm grateful to you. No arguing."

"Thanks, Melissa," Callie said, handing over their menus.

Melissa headed back to the kitchen, and a moment later, a waiter came over with a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. As he moved away, Callie took a sip and then sat back in her seat, her gaze moving toward the crashing waves below. Then she looked back at him.

"Would you surf these waves?" she asked.

"Probably not, since they're very close to the rocks. I'm not as young and reckless as I used to be."

"I've never surfed, even though I've spent my entire life in Southern California. I'm more of a sunbather."

He wouldn't mind seeing her in a bikini, soaking up the sun, but that kind of moment felt very far away.

"So, it's story time," she continued, a gleam in her eyes. "The Flynn MacKenzie story. Start talking."

"Where do you want me to begin?"

"At the beginning. Did you grow up in California? Because it seems like you have a faint British accent at times."

"My mother is British. I was born here in the US, but we lived in England from the time I was about one to six. Then we moved back to the States, settling in Laguna Beach, home to many art galleries. My father was an art dealer and he eventually took over a gallery there."

"What did your mom do?"

"She taught English literature at the community college a few nights a week. The rest of the time, she was home with me."

"Sounds like a nice life. Laguna is beautiful."

"It is. We had a big house on a cliff, ocean views from every window, but it turns out my father's money was not all gained by legal means."

Her expression changed at his words, surprise entering her eyes. "What did he do?"

"He bought and sold stolen art, and some of that art he actually stole himself. He was what you might have called a cat burglar."

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