Page 47 of Flynn

“I understand.” The reality of the situation was sobering. This wasn’t the time to be kissing Flynn. Not when there was a professional hit man with ties to the Russian Mafia set on killing her. Running her fingers through her hair, she rose to her feet. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Flynn’s smile was sweet. “Take your time.”

She ducked into the bathroom, nearly groaning out loud when she saw how awful she looked. No pretty crying for her, the way actresses in movies looked so beautiful when they were emotionally distraught. Her nose was red, her eyes puffy and swollen. Her hair was a tangled mess and damp from her tears.

Why on earth had Flynn kissed her?

Or had she kissed him?

She felt certain she wasn’t alone in feeling the attraction between them, but Flynn had been quick to pull away. As if he did not want Cassidy to know how close they’d gotten.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she splashed cold water on her face. Then she took a moment to press a washcloth soaked in cold water against her eyes. After blowing her nose and drying her face, she looked in the mirror, relieved she looked better. Not great, but not as bad as before.

Note to self, she thought with a sigh,no more crying.

The truth was she didn’t normally lose control like that. Obviously, what she’d been through over the past—what, fourteen hours?—were far from normal circumstances. Most nannies took care of kids without catching a glimpse of a professional hit man leaving the scene of a double homicide while protecting the children under their care.

She still felt sick remembering how close she and Max had come to being killed that night. If she hadn’t texted Flynn when she had, if he hadn’t called 911 on her behalf and broken speed records to get there...

Best not to think about it. She was alive and so was Max. She wanted to see the baby for herself once this was over to make sure he was okay.

But that would only happen once the danger was over.

As she emerged from the bedroom, Flynn, Cassidy, Doug, and Brady all glanced at her. She did her best to smile as she crossed over to sit on the sofa between Flynn and Cassidy. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

There was a brief moment of silence before Brady took the lead. He and Doug were sitting at the small kitchen table, facing them. Brady gave her a slight nod as he spoke. “Rhy is on his way, so we’re waiting to take action until he gets here to see what he thinks. We’ve gone through the shooting incident again, but I need to ask you if there’s anything you can tell us about that?”

“Me?” She echoed in surprise. She glanced at Flynn, then shook her head. “I’m sorry but no. I heard the gunfire, then Flynn was pushing me to the ground, covering me.” She thought back for a moment. “I didn’t see anything suspicious before that.”

Brady nodded as if he’d expected that answer. “I had to ask, just in case you noticed something small that we didn’t. None of us caught a glimpse of the shooter either. Although I’m certain it’s the same one you have already identified, Nickoli Yurgis.” He shrugged. “At this point, we’ve decided against using one of the FBI safe houses, so it looks like we’re stuck with either motels or rental properties.”

She nodded, knowing Flynn was likely the one who’d nixed the idea of using an FBI safe house. The agents who’d interviewed her had been respectful and came across as good cops intent on finding the shooter.

But she also understood that Flynn was unwilling to trust anyone outside of the Finnegan and tactical team family. Doug Bridges being the sole exception.

“Nothing yet on the company that owns the house on Peabody Lake?” she asked. Her gaze darted from Brady to Doug Bridges. Both men wore somber expressions as if they were feeling the magnitude of the shooting outside the FBI building too. “Your tech guy was going to work on that, right?”

“Yes, Ian is digging into the ownership of the corporation,” Doug said with a nod. “I know he’ll be in touch the minute he finds anything.”

“I also left Gabe a message,” Flynn added. “He’s working on identifying those involved in forming the company too.”

“They’re both talented guys,” Brady said. “I’m sure they’ll find something useful.”

Should, could, hopefully... she tried not to feel depressed about the lack of progress on the case. Everyone was working hard. It wasn’t that they weren’t trying.

Yet deep down, she felt sick. If the FBI and the local police couldn’t find the shooter, who could?

Flynn avoidedCass’s knowing gaze. He didn’t like to think the fact that he’d been kissing Taylor was written all over his face, but the way she’d eyed him suspiciously convinced him it must be obvious.

If someone cared to look.

Thankfully, the guys were more concerned with the case and the task of protecting Taylor. She didn’t look very happy to hear they didn’t have much of anything to go on. And he couldn’t blame her.

He’d hoped they’d have identified a solid plan by now. Part of that was waiting for Rhy to get there.

“I think we should stay away from motels that have been associated with the tactical team or the feds,” Brady said. He waved a hand at the room. “That means moving out of here sooner than later.”

“And go where?” Flynn demanded. “We tried a rental house secured under Gabe’s name, but that didn’t work. If we can’t use federal resources or local cop resources, how are we going to arrange for a place to stay?”

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