The Pleasures of Summer (40 page)

That explained who the French woman was, and why he hadn’t heard about her capture. Flynn trusted Niall would look after her and return her home. He went back to the other part of the nurse’s comment. ‘What’s wrong with my knee?’

He held his breath while she checked his chart again. One of these days, he would have an injury he couldn’t recover from, and he had no idea how he would cope. His mind shied away from living as a cripple.

‘You’ve got grade three tearing on your ACL and medial ligaments. It’s a miracle you were able to move at all, never mind run. If Simone hadn’t told us herself, we wouldn’t have believed you could have done it. We’ve operated on you, but I’m afraid you’re out of action for at least six months.’

‘No way. I have a wedding to go to. I am not going on crutches.’

The nurse looked at him sternly. ‘If you don’t want to regain the use of your knee, that’s fine. I’ve seen your record; you’ve already used up all your luck when it comes to injuries. Abuse your knee and it will never work properly.’

Flynn flopped back against the pillow. Six months on crutches? It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t stand that. He’d be a laughing stock at the wedding.

And Summer? Somehow things had rearranged themselves in his mind when he was unconscious. Summer was HIS. So she wasn’t the perfect little sub that Lorna had been. So, she was high maintenance, headstrong and bratty. He loved those things about her. And even more, he loved her willingness to explore, her loyalty, her vulnerability, her
sensuality, her big heart. And it didn’t hurt that she had a body like Venus, he admitted.

Summer wasn’t his principal any longer. He wasn’t exactly the sort of man she usually dated, but to hell with that. He knew what she wanted. He’d shower her with kink from night to morning if that’s what it took to make her happy.

He had hoped to make a more athletic entrance but to hell with it, he couldn’t wait. His phone was gone, so he demanded the hospital phone and stuffed his credit card into it. ‘Hi Niall, put me through to Summer. I need to talk to her.’

Niall laughed and told him to hold on. The wait dragged on and on. The numbers on his phone cranked up and up, and were over a tenner when Niall came back on the line. ‘We don’t know where she is. She gave McEntaggart the slip.’

Despite the heat of the hospital, Flynn’s skin chilled. ‘When?’ His lips were stiff.

‘No one has seen her in several days.’

‘Find her, Niall. I’ll be with you soon.’ He hung up and jammed his finger on the call button.

When an annoyed nurse arrived, he told her, ‘Get me my clothes, a knee brace and a wheelchair. I’m discharging myself.’

She gave an impatient sigh. ‘I can’t stop you from leaving, Herr Grant, but I must remind you if you don’t give yourself time to recover, you may be limping permanently.’

Try to keep track of time and establish routines
– item nine or whatever it was on Flynn’s list. She was lucky that she had
a watch, although unsticking the masking tape around the window to read the time was a pain.

She hadn’t managed to sleep much. The room was cold and the thin blanket did little to keep her warm. She had seen no one for almost eight hours. Were they still in the house? Had the ransom been paid? Maybe something had gone wrong?

That thought prompted her to climb off the mattress again and make her way to the door. The silence was broken by footsteps. Someone was coming. She stood on her abandoned shoe in her hurry to get back and had to stifle a yelp of pain.

The light was switched on and the door opened. It was Gypsy. ‘Bathroom, then food.’

She walked slowly down the corridor, trying to stretch her legs. She would have to exercise, maybe do some circuits of the room. Anything to stave off the boredom and stop her thinking.

‘You slept?’ Gypsy asked her.

She shook her head. ‘Not a lot. It was cold.’

‘Five minutes.’ He tapped his watch and Summer scurried inside. This time she checked the tiny room thoroughly. There was a window but it was too small for even a child to climb through and there was nothing here that she could use as a weapon.

She washed quickly and opened the door a crack. There was no sign of Gypsy. Could she make a run for it? The kitchen door swung open and she heard voices. Summer stepped back inside and closed the door.

‘You come now.’ It wasn’t Gypsy, but the sidekick. She had heard Gypsy call him Andrei.

He propelled her ahead of him back to her room. On a tray in the middle of the mattress was a bowl of cereal and a small carton of milk. Best of all was the smell of coffee coming from a red mug. Summer’s mouth watered. She devoured the cereal quickly and finished off the milk, not sure when they would feed her again. She wrapped her chilled fingers around the mug and sipped it, grateful for the warmth. Andrei stood in the doorway, watching her every move until Gypsy re-appeared carrying a plump bed throw.

‘Hey, Uri said no touching stuff from upstairs –’

‘Pfff,’ Gypsy shrugged. ‘Do you want her getting sick?’

‘I suppose not,’ Andrei replied, but he looked on with disapproval clearly written across his face as Gypsy laid the throw on the end of the mattress.

‘Thank you.’ Summer smiled gratefully at him. She drained the last of her coffee and placed the mug back on the tray. Gypsy picked it up and headed to the door. ‘Could you leave the light on? Please?’ She hated sounding anxious, but the thought of another endless day here in the dark was more than she could tolerate.

The door closed behind them. The lock clicked into place and then the room was plunged into darkness. She heard voices outside, and almost immediately the light came back on again. She pulled the throw around her, thankful for light and warmth.

Flynn fumed as he limped into the terminal and switched on his phone. Bloody plane. It was bad enough that he had been stuck on a commercial flight for hours. Niall would have a cow when he got the bill for the three first class tickets he’d bought so that he could stretch out his leg. The client would probably end up paying for it.

When he reached the arrivals hall, a tall figure sloped away from a pillar and came to greet him. Andy McTavish could wear a dishrag and still look elegant. The joke at the agency was that Andy made ‘tall dark and handsome’ sound like an understatement. Niall often used him as bait for missions involving women.

‘What are you doing here?’ Flynn demanded.

‘I’m your driver. I hear you’re all injured and delicate and we have to look after you.’

‘Fuck off, Andy.’ It didn’t help Flynn’s temper that it was true. His leg was encased in a giant plastic and metal brace that make him look like RoboCop, and he had a long list of things he was not to do if he ever wanted to use his knee again.

He directed Andy to drive to Dunboy House. Chances were that there would be some clue there as to where Summer had gone.

The butler was his usual disapproving self, but to give
him his due, Malcolm seemed genuinely upset by Summer’s disappearance. He wrung his hands with uncharacteristic agitation when he told Flynn that he had gone to the doctor’s the last time Summer was here.

‘That nice Mr Fielding gave her a lift home. I did offer to make up a room for him after the drive, because it was late at night, but his bed wasn’t slept in.’ He gave Flynn a pointed look, which he ignored.

‘When did you see her after that?’

Malcolm shook his head. ‘I didn’t. I had a medical appointment that morning, and I missed her. She was gone when I returned.’

No matter how much he probed, Flynn couldn’t get anything else out of the butler. He left Malcolm polishing silver and checked the rest of the house. Summer’s room had been tidied, but still smelled of her.

Was it really less than a month since he had been here? He lifted the bottles on her dressing table and sniffed them. None of the scents were half as exotic as the smell of her skin or her hair or the taste of her as he buried his face between her thighs.

Down boy. Keep your focus on the mission
. A small tissue-wrapped parcel caught his attention and he opened it. A pebble from the loch, the one with the pattern that looked like a star; he had found it for her. A small pinecone like the ones that littered the forest floor where he had found her the night she ran away. A pale orchid with a touch of pink at the centre, a little battered around the edges. All memories of a Scottish summer.

Tiny objects that marked their time together. The only things that she had taken with her when she walked away
from him. The truth was so blindingly obvious that only a fool could miss it.

Summer was in love with him.

Flynn sat down heavily on the bed. He had never run away from anything in his life. He had fought in every dangerous corner of the planet, but nothing had been as dangerous as spending a month alone with her. Oh, she was spoilt, wilful and demanding. But she was also sweet and tender and he had never met a woman who challenged him more.

Flynn lifted the pillow from the bed and pressed it against his face, catching the faint scent of her. He was turning soft. Tim O’Sullivan would never let his only daughter marry a man like him. He was a soldier. A well paid one, but he couldn’t keep her in designer shoes for a month, never mind keep up with the lifestyle that her father provided for her.

Flynn wrapped the souvenirs back in the tissue. Somehow, when he got her back, he would find a way for them to be together. Summer O’Sullivan belonged to him. But he had no time to think about that now. He heard cars outside on the gravel drive. The rest of the team were arriving. It was his fault that she was gone. His job was to get Summer back. No matter what it cost.

He continued to search the room, and in the rubbish bin found clothes which he recognized. Summer had worn them at the croft, but now the pale pink T-shirt was torn at the neck. He doubted that she had done it. Rage boiled up inside him at the thought of someone hurting her.

He held onto his temper with an effort. He rang Niall
and asked for a forensic sweep of Summer’s room. This was the last place she had been, as far as they knew; it was the logical starting point.

Downstairs, he listened to the messages on the answering machine. There were reminders about yoga class, a dental appointment, a message saying, ‘Read the paper, bitch. And she’s not looking for a pre-nup.’ Probably Bayliss, Flynn thought.

There was an irate message from someone called Sinead.

‘Thanks a million for that, Summer. You were the one who wanted to talk to me, and instead you leave me hanging around for two bloody hours waiting for you. You’d better have one hell of a good explanation, or you can deal with Tim on your own the next time you’re in trouble.’

Flynn dialled her number right away. ‘Sinead O’Sullivan, Jewel Collection, how can I help you?’

The hint of an Irish accent reminded him painfully of Summer. ‘Summer is missing; I need to talk to you.’

There was a brief pause, and then the efficient voice said, ‘Of course. I see from the number on the display that you’re at the house. I’ll be there as soon as possible.’

Flynn and Andy interrogated the other servants, hoping that one of them had a clue about where Summer could have gone. They were barely finished when the main gates opened and a sedate Volvo came up the driveway.

The driver got out, and Andy whistled. ‘Well, look at that.’

Flynn looked. The woman in the dark grey car was buttoned down and conservative, in a tailored suit with a white blouse. Her hair was pulled back into a neat chignon, and
she wore glasses with silver frames. She moved like a young woman, but the clothes made it impossible to tell how old she was. ‘What?’ he asked Andy. ‘She looks like she wears granny pants.’

Andy shot him an incredulous glance. ‘Did you not see the arse on her when she got out of the car? That is one world-class arse.’

Flynn couldn’t summon interest. The only arse he was interested in was Summer’s.

The woman introduced herself as Sinead. Something clicked. ‘Oh, you’re the cousin who was at school with Summer and –’ He stopped.

‘Plain Jane Superbrain?’ she said evenly. ‘Yes, that’s me. What makes you think Summer has disappeared?’