I raised an eyebrow. “Do this a lot, do you?”
He merely smiled. “I live in a hotel. Spares are easy to come by.”
Holding in my grumbling, I set my heels down by the couch and went to Flynn’s bedroom. The bed was king-sized with red sheets and charcoal accents. It was all dark-wood furniture and utterly masculine. The bathroom had a glass shower, big enough for two, and a separate tub. I glanced at myself in the mirror and nearly blanched. My mascara had painted rings around my bloodshot hazel eyes, and my auburn hair was a tangled mess.
God, I looked awful.
By the time I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and managed to tame my hair, I was feeling a bit better, but I needed coffee. Breakfast had arrived and Flynn was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper and sipping on a glass of orange juice.
“Hi,” I said.
He turned his head and smiled. “What would you like? Pancakes? Eggs? I ordered it all.”
“I think a waffle—and some coffee, please.”
“Have a seat,” he said and got up to fix me a plate.
I sank into a chair. Feeling bold and in desperate need of caffeine, I reached across the table and grabbed Flynn’s mug. I was sipping on it when Flynn came back with a plate stacked with two waffles.
“Is that my cup?” he asked in amusement.
“It is. Me without coffee is like the world without the sun.”
“By all means, then,” Flynn said, taking his seat.
We were silent as we ate. It was shockingly comfortable, despite all that I’d learned the night before. In the light of day, my anger at my brother came rushing back.
“Feeling better?” Flynn asked when I pushed away my empty plate.
“I’ll live,” I replied.
“Glad to hear it. You ready to discuss your job—more in depth?”
“What if I say no,” I said. “What if I want nothing to do with this and leave it between you and Andrew?”
“Forget your brother for a moment. Forget he had anything to do with this. I’m asking you for your help. Plain and simple.”
“Why can’t you hire someone to go undercover for you?”
“Do you ever get a feeling about certain people?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I guess.”
“Well, then, believe me when I say I have a feeling about you. It’s not just about hiring someone—it’s about that someone being able to get close to people. I think you can do it.”
What could I say? Flynn believed in me and for some reason, I wanted to help him. But that would mean taking a leave of absence from a job I loved—and there was no guarantee that it would be waiting for me when this mess was figured out. And what if I couldn’t find the person selling drugs?
My brother’s actions had brought me here. I’d been sucker punched. He wouldn’t ever love me the way a brother was supposed to. Flynn had it right when it came to family. Blood didn’t make family. Loyalty did, and Andrew had shown me none of that.
Flynn reached for my hand that rested on the table and held it. To my consternation, tears pricked my eyes. Flynn Campbell had shown me nothing but kindness and understanding. Whatever else brewed between us, I needed to remember this moment.
Once my emotions were under control, Flynn released my hand and asked, “Well? What do you say? Will you help me?”
I nodded. Flynn smiled, a look of relief washing over his face, and then he got down to the business of discussing the intricacies of the job.
“You’ll have to come to the club one night this week so you can get a sense of it, the attire, how things work.”
“The attire?”
