Now that prohibition was over, FBI agent Michael Flynn hoped to enjoy the quiet life and a chance to finally concentrate on finding his best friend’s sister. He’d been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her picture. Unfortunately, the more he searched the more he realized she wasn’t just missing. Eryn was hiding from one of the most notorious gangsters around. One who wouldn’t rest until he knew she was dead.
Eryn O’Malley had been moving around for years, doing whatever legal, or illegal job she could find to survive. No time for romance or a normal life. A one night stand with a handsome man at the county fair seemed like just the ticket to escape for a moment from her troubled life. However, finding out he was a G-man wasn’t part of the plan. Now he was on her trail. Whether to arrest or rescue her, she wasn’t sure, and she couldn’t wait around to find out. If he caught her, would he forgive her checkered past or would he always think of her as the gangster’s woman?
The newly engaged woman’s laughter drew his notice again, and he took the well-worn photograph from his wallet. The photo of John’s sister, Eryn, was always with him. What a beauty. He’d willingly sell his soul to see her pretty face staring back at his. But, there was no trace. It was the one unsolved case that kept him awake at night.
“That your gal?” The delicious smell of the steak instantly had his taste buds salivating as the waitress placed his meal on the table.
“Thank you.” Michael picked up his fork, and the girl picked up the picture. He cut off a piece of the tender meat and took a bite. It melted in his mouth. The juices flowed on his tongue. He closed his eyes and muffled a moan of culinary pleasure.
“Hey, I know her.” She piped in.
His eyes flew open. The meat lodged in his throat and sent him into a coughing fit. The waitress slapped his back before handing him a glass of water.
“You okay there, fella?” She waited. A concerned look was on her face. Several customers turned to look before returning to their meal.
“Uh,” he coughed again, “yes. What did you say?” He managed to speak before dabbing a napkin to his watering eyes.
“I asked if you were okay.”
“No, about the picture.” She still held it, forgotten, in her hand.
Studying it again, she tilted her head and pointed to the painting above the fireplace. “It looks like her.”
He stood, retrieved the photo from her hand, and made his way to where she motioned. Adrenaline spiked with every step. The feature of the restaurant’s stone fireplace was a painting of a striking redhead, nude from the waist up. The resemblance was uncanny. It was her. It had to be.
The waitress had followed and stood beside him, a hand resting on one hip. “Sure looks like her in the face, can’t say for sure about the rest of her.” She giggled. Michael grabbed her wrist when she turned to leave. “Who’s the woman in the painting?”
She winced, and he released the tight grip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been searching for her everywhere.”