Something else occurred to Harlow. “Isn’t the SweSec event in the city?”
Her mom nodded. A spear of dread pierced her. Harlow hadn’t been back to the city since she’d fled it on the night Ryske died.
“Your sister will be there, and your father and I, of course,” she said. “And if it’s too much for you, Rupert will be happy to bring you home… He still lives in your old apartment.”
Not so subtle. Nothing would make Jean or Harlow’s father, Brysen, happier than if things were to go back to the way they once had been. “I know that, Mom,” she said, burying a groan in the back of her throat. “Can you put that out of your head? Please?” The last thing she needed was extra pressure. “I won’t be going home with him. I don’t want you to think that one date is going to take us back to exactly where we were. It won’t.”
Clutching the engraved panel on her bracelet, she looked down to read the words etched in it and touched the black star that she’d had tattooed on her wrist just days after coming home.
She may have drifted into her own world again or maybe not.
The concept of time was lost these days.
Her mother’s fingertips touched the underside of her chin to lift it up. “Whoever he was, he didn’t deserve you.”
Jean could be accused of having a blinkered view on life. The woman had her own priorities and knew them well. Often when she was in pursuit of her own goals, Jean lost sight of things like common courtesy.
But, in the times it wasn’t directed at her, Harlow often admired her mother’s tenacity. It wasn’t a bad quality to emulate either.
In Jean’s rare moments of consideration, when she looked beyond her typical boundaries, her mom could display remarkable insight.
“He did deserve me, Mom,” Harlow whispered, trying not to let her tears overtake her again. If they did, she might not win the renewed battle to contain them. “I didn’t fight hard enough to make him see that.”
Concern creased Jean’s brow. “Married?”
A blub of a sob came out of Harlow, though it was sort of half laugh. “If only it had been that simple.”
She’d have put a knife in the ribs of her competition and taken her man if it had been that straightforward. If Harlow had the choice, she would do anything to have Ryske back.
In the nights when she lay awake whispering to him, Harlow talked out different scenarios. If death hadn’t been the thing to separate them, she speculated on what the future may have held. Although Ryske had told her to go back to Rupert so she could be safe, she wondered now if he would have stayed away.
Could her Crash have left her in the bed of another man while he lay in his own imagining Rupert doing the things to her that he wanted to do? He’d said he loved her. Ryske had said it.
Maze’s previous assertion that his friend felt that way had perplexed her; she couldn’t deny that it had messed with her head. Ryske’s misfit crew of Dover, Noon, and Maze knew her love better than anyone, and they’d sensed something between the couple from early on.
But it wasn’t until she’d heard the words from Ryske’s lips that Harlow could understand their truth. He was in love with her. He hadn’t taken her up on her “offer” in the closet because he couldn’t trust himself to let her go. That was the only sense she could make of it.
If Ryske had made love to her, he wouldn’t have been able to conceal the truth of what he felt. Maybe he would’ve said the words. That would’ve changed things. As long as she resented him, and believed he’d used her, she would walk away. If he’d confessed the truth and depth of his feelings, she would’ve fought for him.
Ryske had asserted that leaving the city and going back to Rupert was in her best interest. But if they’d crossed that final line with each other and had sex in the closet during their last argument, Ryske might not have been able to let her go. That’s how it played out in Harlow’s mind anyway.
Jean kissed each of her daughter’s cheeks while saying she had to go check on dinner.
Harlow didn’t move as her mother left the room. Being alone didn’t bother her. If anything, she was more at peace when she didn’t have to put up a front for anyone. Alone seemed right. She wanted to be alone. Alone with thoughts of Ryske.
Crash had once told her he would shield her from anything that could hurt her. It turned out he hadn’t been able to shield her from the one thing that would hurt the most: losing him. Harlow couldn’t see how she would ever bounce back.
2
Harlow had been at this SweSec function for less than an hour, but already she wanted to leave. Rupert was doing his job networking and schmoozing. She hadn’t meant to abandon him to it, but after the tenth similar conversation, she’d excused herself to go to the restroom and might have accidently gone to the bar instead.
Life wasn’t what it was supposed to be.
The whole event was making her sick. Harlow just wanted to glare at everyone in their flowing gowns and glitzy jewels. What did any of this matter? What did any of it mean? How could anyone be happy and laughing? Didn’t they know that Ryske was gone?
All Harlow felt was disgust. Who knew that losing the man she was supposed to spend her life with would turn her into such a cynic?
The bartender came back with her double Scotch and she started to drink. The bitter liquid hit her throat hard, but that was what she needed, what she wanted. The fog of intoxication was alluring. She hadn’t touched wine since the night she’d lost Ryske. Even at dinner she resisted, despite her parents’ insistence. But hard liquor was just fine; no trouble there.
Oblivion was welcome. It was on the nights that she got blind drunk alone in her room that her conversations with Ryske were most real. Conversations could turn to arguments that she’d bury in her pillow just like her screams. How dare he leave her? How dare he abandon her and expect her to deal with this alone? She’d call him selfish and spiteful, but the arguments always ended the same—with her in tears apologizing, begging him to come back to her.
Putting the drink on the bar, Harlow dropped her focus to the leather bracelet on her wrist. Her mother had asked her several times not to wear it, right up until the moment Rupert walked in to let them know the limo had arrived to pick them up. He’d told her she was beautiful, but she noticed the frown he’d cast over her wrist.
Ryske’s braided leather band double-wrapped and didn’t match the elegance of her cocktail dress. It was much looser on her slender wrist than it had been on her man’s thick, capable arm. The stark tattoo didn’t scream sophistication either. Still, she was proud of both.
Harlow hadn’t explained the tattoo to anyone, or the bracelet, and she had no intention of doing it. Slipping her finger under the warm leather, she felt the ridges of the internal engraving that Ryske had gotten done for her. Felix culpa. His fall hadn’t been intentional and it hadn’t been happy. It had been caused by momentum, gravity, and blood loss.
Replaying the conversation they’d had the night they met made her smile. It was usually a mistake to think about that night because it led to her thinking about every other encounter they had.
God, she missed him. Her heart ached for him. Her body needed him. She just couldn’t stop…
“Never thought I’d see that again.”
The voice was more of a feeling than a sound. She had to have heard it, but the way it pricked the hairs on the back of her neck made her spine straighten one inch at a time.
Harlow didn’t turn around, and didn’t have to, because she knew exactly who that voice belonged to. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone guttural.
Hatred and anger began to boil around her heart. She could almost feel it harden when he loomed closer.
“Well, when I heard the name Sweeting, I couldn’t refuse, could I?” he asked. “Who’d have thought your family would be so welcoming to me?”
Spinning around, she landed her disgust on him. “If I were you, Mr. Hagan, I would walk out of here quietly now… while you still h
ave the chance.”
“I was invited, Harlow,” he said, moving past her to hold up a finger to summon the bartender. “Let me buy you a drink, we’ll reminisce over old times.” He ordered and gave her the chance to as well, but she didn’t flinch. The venom in her glare grew more potent with every second. “What would you like to talk about first? The day I had him stabbed, or the day I had him killed?”
“How about the day he started fucking Anwen… or the day he started fucking your sister?” she spat. “Why don’t we talk about how a man of your means is so inadequate when it comes to pleasing women? Just what is it about you that chased all of them to him?”
His jaw worked. She could hear him grinding his teeth, but that only made her smile. Leaning in, he growled his words. “I would’ve thought watching the life slip out of his broken, demented body would’ve taken your fire. I see it’s only increased it.”
“You’re damn right. Don’t ever forget that I saw the man who pulled the trigger. I know exactly who took him from me.”
The side of his mouth rose in a depraved smile. “Then why is it that my man is still walking the streets? I did my job, Miss Sweeting. It was my job to take out the competition… to erase the man who threatened my family. I protected my sister from enduring a lifetime of suffering with him.”
“And I’m sure she’s so pleased about that.” The twitch in his brow betrayed there was tension in the siblings’ relationship. Her smile grew again. “Oh, or perhaps she’s displeased with you for dictating to her. Imposing your will on a strong woman is never a wise move. It wasn’t your place to make her decisions for her.”
The more Harlow pushed, the higher his irritation level rose. It was like before, when he’d held her prisoner and controlled her with threats of hurting Ryske. Back then, Harlow had learned how to rile Jarvis Hagan. She wasn’t sorry to be getting a reminder of how gratifying it was.
“You should be thanking me,” he hissed. “You think I don’t know that you were in love with him? The proposal was bullshit. Ophelia thinks she knows the world, but she’s naïve. Ryske didn’t love her. He wanted her for her connection to me and my money. It wouldn’t surprise me if the two of you were in it together.”
Ophelia wasn’t as dumb as her brother thought. Although Harlow still believed that the female Hagan wanted Ryske to love her, she was also determined in her desire to punish her brother. Ophelia’s motives for accepting the proposal weren’t as clear cut as Hagan believed them to be.
Harlow gestured to the room. “Look around you, Jarvis. I don’t need your money.”
He spat out a scoff of amused disgust. “This is nothing. Nothing to what I have. Why do you think your father is so eager to court my fortune?”
Unintimidated, she leaned a little closer to murmur, “Because he doesn’t know the truth of who you are and who you consort with.”
His brows rose. There was an almost smile on his lips. “Who? Criminals. Need I remind you that you were fucking that criminal? How would daddy feel about that? How would your fiancé feel about it? I know what it is to be made a fool of by that man. Would you like me to tell your beloved Rupert Marlowe the truth?”
Now it was her turn to be smug. “Rupert and I are not engaged and we haven’t been for some time. He knows nothing about Ryske, and I would be willing to bet that as long as your precious consortium is plotting world domination, you don’t want anyone to know about your association with him either.” Turning toward the bar, Hagan revealed that she’d hit another sore point by the way he lifted his glass to his lips in an attempt to hide his reaction, but it was too late. “Or maybe Gil Parratt did see the truth of who you were after Ryske set him on the right path.” Leaning in, her lips almost grazed his ear. “Even in death he’s winning. God, he’s hot, isn’t he? Dead for three months and he’s still turning me on. Anwen and Ophelia didn’t stand a chance.”
She picked up her clutch and twisted the seat of her stool, intending to leave. Hagan snatched her wrist. Both of them looked down at the point of contact to see Ryske’s bracelet resting along the edge of his hand.
“Tell me, Miss Sweeting,” he said, touching the leather, making her yank her hand away. This bastard had no right to touch anything that had once belonged to her love. “Why didn’t you do your duty?”
“My duty?”
“Yes,” he said. His chin jutted up at a proud angle illuminating how sure he was of himself this time. He lifted his glass to sip. “My job was to defeat him. I accomplished that. Yours was to avenge him, but you tucked tail and ran…” Looking down his nose at her, Hagan didn’t disguise his scrutiny. “I expected that ending him would start a war with his crew. Instead, all of you faded away. Now who’s winning?”
All of them? Thinking that it would be too difficult, Harlow hadn’t been in touch with Dover, Noon, or Maze since Ryske’s death. How could they have disappeared too? She couldn’t begin to fathom it.
“Maybe we’re just biding our time,” she said, despite knowing it was a lie.
There was no plan to avenge Ryske. No plan to get payback for his death. Not from her anyway.
The truth smacked her in the face. She had let Ryske down. All the time she’d been hiding and wallowing, she been letting him down.
“The easiest hit I ever planned,” he muttered a moment before sidestepping and widening his grin, much as he had when Ophelia had happened upon them at a previous party. This time it wasn’t Hagan’s sister who was interrupting them, it was Harlow’s date. “Mr. Marlowe!”
Rupert came up at her side, putting a hand on her shoulder and appearing somewhat bewildered by Hagan’s familiarity. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Harlow,” Hagan said without disguising his pleasure at her disgust. “Wait, I got it. I just realized, you’ll be Harlow Marlowe when you get married.” He snapped his fingers. “I love it.”
“We’re no longer engaged,” she said. Against her better judgement, because she was painted into a corner, Harlow cleared her throat and did her duty. “Rupert Marlowe, this is Jarvis Hagan.”
“Ah, Mr. Hagan, of course. I’m sorry, so many new faces tonight.” The men shook hands. “I didn’t know you knew Harlow.”
“Yes,” Hagan said, smiling at her. “We were acquainted while Harlow was living in the city.”
Rupert’s hand slid off her shoulder. “I see.”
“Rupert,” she said, taking her clutch from the bar and slipping off her stool. “I’m ready to go home.”
“But Harlow—”
“I don’t need an escort,” she said, picking up her glass to toss the rest of the scotch into her throat.
“No. Of course you don’t. You are a woman who knows how to take care of herself, aren’t you, Harlow?” Hagan asked, his smirk only drove her closer to giving up her restraint and smacking him in the face. “Still, a man can’t be too careful. Never know who your woman might run into out there on the city streets.”
“Better men than I’ll find in here I’m sure,” she hissed.
His lips twisted like he was struggling to contain a smile. “I can take you home, Harlow,” Hagan said and pointed a finger like he was going to touch her cheek.
Swiping his hand away, Harlow snatched up Hagan’s glass and tossed the liquid in his face. “Not if you were the last breathing man on Earth.”
Spinning around, she stormed through the smiling people with only one goal. To get the hell out of there. She was a fool. A disappointment. She disgusted herself.
“Harlow,” Rupert called from behind her. “Harlow, wait.”
Catching her arm, he spun her around before she got to the other side of the hotel lobby. “Go back inside, Rupert. I don’t need you.”
“I’m not going to let you leave alone. We arrived together. We’ll leave together. I have a driver outside—”
“I’ll get a cab.”
“A cab? A cab back to your parents from here will cost a fortune.” He picked up her hand, pulling himself clos
er to stroke her face. “I could get us a room, if you’re not up to the crowd. We could order room service, drink some wine…”
His effort was sweet. It wasn’t fair of her to let him think there was hope. “Rupert,” she said, taking her hand away from him. “When I was living here in the city I was with another man.”
It seemed silly that he was shocked because they’d broken up months before she moved, so it wasn’t like he could have expected fidelity. Moving away had been a break from everything in her old life, including him.
“Jarvis Hagan?”
Repulsed, she felt the need to step back. Her lip curled and even with a hand on her throat to settle it, she was sure she tasted bile. “No! God, no.”
“So, who?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s over, but… what is important is that I owe something to him. No, not to him. That’s not right. I owe something to what we had… Ever since I’ve been home, I’ve had this feeling I couldn’t figure out. I was just sick all the time and now… I know what it is.”
“You loved him,” he said.
The way he deflated made her feel guilt and pity. Though the action was subtle, it was an indication of how strong his feelings still were for her, and the optimism he’d had about their future being taken away.
“I love him,” she said, preferring the present tense.
Slowly, he nodded. “You’re going to him.”
If wishing made it so. Going to Floyd’s, tracking Ryske down, it was a dream Harlow often woke from these days. The cold truth of reality was always hard to adjust to when she awoke and remembered what had happened.
“If I could, I would,” she said, figuring something else out.
Even if Ryske had let her go back to Rupert, and even if he’d been able to stay away, she wouldn’t have been able to slide into an unsatisfying, comfortable existence in suburbia while her real love was out there.
Go It Alone (A Go Novel Book 2) Page 2
