Chapter 2
Anna
The two guys had barely left when Flynn turned to me and said, "You're too nice. You know that, right?"
The last thing I wanted now was an argument. After all, I'd just gotten my way. Still, the comment grated, and I couldn’t stop myself from muttering, "Well, that's rich."
"Meaning?"
As if he didn't know.
Flynn and I – we had a history. It wasn't good. Maybe this conversation was long overdue. Still, this wasn't the best time or place. I tried to shrug it off. "Nothing."
"No," he said. "Tell me."
I gave him a long, curious look.Did he seriously want me to go there? Here? Now?
From the look on his face, he actually did.
Fine.If that's what he wanted.
I lifted my chin. "I'm just saying, for weeks – no,years– you've been acting like I’m some sort of monster. Andnowyou're telling me that I’m too nice?"
Flynn stiffened, but made no reply.
Score for one for me.Or so I thought until he turned away, looking not atme, but rather at the long bank of bathroom stalls.
"Well?" I said. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"
He was still looking away. "No."
Talk about unsatisfying."But—"
He held up a hand. "Not now."
I sighed in frustration. "What do you mean, not now?"
Deliberately, he moved toward the stalls. There were seven total, each with their doors shut, thanks to some sort of automatic hinge mechanism.
He strode forward until he reached the second stall – the one adjacent to the first one, where the two guys had been hiding out. He gave the door a hard push and glanced inside.
I frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Not now," he repeated, moving to the next stall and givingitsdoor a push, too. I watched in confused silence as he repeated the process several times over. When he pushed the door of the final stall, it didn't budge.
My breath caught.Oh, crap.It was locked.From the inside.
Flynn stepped back and gave the door a good kick, swat-team style. The door flew open, leaving the lock mechanism dangling from a single screw.
But that wasn't the thing that made cringe.
It was the sight of a stranger, standing on the toilet – one foot on each side of its seat. Even worse, he was holding out his cellphone like a camera, or more to the point, like a recording device.
He gave a girlish scream when Flynn reached out with both hands and yanked him out of the stall. The guy's phone clattered to the tile floor as Flynn slammed him up against the adjacent wall and demanded, "What the fuck were you doing?"
This guy, like the other two, was wearing an ill-fitting suit and a look of absolute panic. "I, um…" He swallowed, hard. "Nothing."
He wasn't the only one panicking. I hustled forward until I was standing directly at Flynn's side. With renewed desperation, I urged, "Let him go, okay?"
