Go It Alone (A Go Novel Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  16

  Harlow hurried past Ryske, out of the closet, and across to the dining table.

  Unzipping her sports bag, she dug around to find her ringing cellphone and answered it. “Hello?”

  “Harlow,” Clyde’s said down the line.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to readjust her thinking. The first thought that sprang to mind was that she couldn’t deal with him while Ryske was nearby.

  “I can’t do this right now,” she murmured.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with a desperation that made her feel for him. “We were drinking and I was… I don’t know what I was… There’s no excuse, I’m sorry.”

  Keeping her head down, she tried to be as quiet as she could without raising Clyde’s suspicion… either of the men’s suspicions. Though she didn’t know exactly where Ryske was, she’d guess he wasn’t far away.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” she said, trying to keep it light. “It’s no big deal.”

  Clyde wasn’t appeased, his contrition was strong. “It’s a big deal. I’m your friend and you came here for advice and comfort and I—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to smile. “Forget about it, okay? Really, it’s fine.”

  He took a deep breath. “You ran out of here so fast and I felt like shit. I didn’t know where you were… Did you go to Floyd’s?”

  “No, not last night,” she said, becoming aware that someone else was definitely lurking in the room.

  Ryske’s stealth confirmed that he was trying to eavesdrop. He’d been so quiet while coming out of the closet that she didn’t know exactly when he’d joined her.

  “Where did you stay?” Clyde asked.

  Either Ryske knew she was aware of him or he’d figured out there was another man on the end of the line because he stopped sneaking about. Full of pride, he strode into the kitchen to pour coffee, making as much noise as he could in the process.

  “I can’t talk now,” she muttered into the phone.

  “Where are you? I can come to you, I—”

  “Not now.”

  “Lunch,” he said. “Or dinner, whatever you want, Harlow… please.”

  Inhaling through her nose, she didn’t want to sigh or show Ryske that she was harried. “I’ll come by later, okay? I have things to do today. I’ll come to you when I’m done.”

  There was a pause. “Are you sure? I mean, you will come over? I don’t want you to—”

  “I will. Just… I can’t do this now… You have to trust me.”

  “I do,” Clyde said. “I do trust you and… I am sorry, Harlow.”

  “I know,” she said and smiled. “Didn’t you once tell me that there was no apology necessary? It’s really fine. We’ll talk about it later.” It didn’t feel right to just leave it that way, so she smiled. “You have a good heart, you know? You’re a good man.”

  Clyde still seemed unsure when she hung up, but there was nothing else that she could give him. Turning the phone over, she opened it up to take the SIM out and snapped the card in two.

  “Looking to get rid of someone?” Ryske asked. Although she was pleased to see he was wearing jeans, his bared torso didn’t look any less inviting. Ignoring her hormones, she took the other phone from her bag and did the same thing with the second SIM. “Two phones… both burners?”

  Ryske came over with coffee for both of them. She stuffed the phones and the remnants of the SIMs in her bag again, planning to get rid of them later. Because it was there, she took the coffee and gulped some down, then put the mug on the table and picked up her bag to sling the strap across her body.

  “I have to get going,” she said. “Let me know on that money, okay?”

  When she tried to go around him, he got in her way. “Don’t you have questions?”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “About… everything? I’ll tell you anything you want to know, everything. I’ll never lie to you… never.”

  It didn’t take long for her smile to curve. She breathed out something of a cleansing breath. “Ryske,” she said, trying to be as plain and calm as she could. “I wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your damn mouth even if you read me the dictionary cover to cover.”

  “What about mine?”

  That voice didn’t belong to Ryske. It had come from the kitchen. Leaning to the side, Harlow had a whole new kind of reaction when she saw the doctor at the top of the spiral stairs. The rage that struck her was visceral. Somehow, his betrayal cut deeper.

  Without thinking, she swept Ryske aside and strode into the kitchen to bring her hand across Bale’s cheek in a swift slap. “You are one sick sonofabitch,” she hissed. “I don’t know how you can look at yourself in the mirror.”

  “It was a split second decision,” he said. “Harlow—”

  “Don’t say a thing. Not a goddamn word,” she said and started past him, but came to a stop at the top of the stairs.

  The spiral column was blocked, filled with the bodies of three other men all ascending towards her.

  The whole damn gang was here.

  “No,” she whispered. “No way.”

  Turning on her heels, she crossed the kitchen past Bale and even got by Ryske on her dash across the living room.

  “Trinket,” he called.

  Nothing he could say would make her slow down. She got out into the stairwell and started to descend in a run.

  The door upstairs slapped off the wall. It echoed behind her in time with the thunder of his footsteps. Even though he was barefoot, she could hear him hurrying after her. Right up until the moment he captured her wrist and pulled her around, she kidded herself that she was going to get away.

  Her fingertips had been just an inch from the external door handle; freedom had been so close.

  “No,” was the first thing she gasped. From the horror on his face she knew he’d noticed the tears on her cheeks. Resenting every one of them, she swiped them away. “No, Ryske, I will not do it. I will not stand in a room with the man who pretended to love me and his posse of lying friends and listen to any of you belittle what it was you did to me. Do I have questions? You fucking bastard, how dare you say that to me. How dare you!”

  “Trinket,” he soothed, trying to reach for her face.

  With venom in her blood, she batted his hand away. “No! You do not get to touch me! I will never believe another word you say to me! Not ever! None of you!”

  But Ryske wasn’t contrite, the potency of his anger matched hers. “You think I didn’t want to be with you? That I didn’t ache for you every damn minute of the day? I killed myself with thoughts of what that bastard Marlowe was doing with you! My woman! I guess for you it’s easy to love a man when he’s dead; harder when he’s alive and you have to accept his flaws.”

  “Flaws? Ryske, we’re not talking about your snoring, or your arrogance. We’re not even talking about you reserving the right to screw any pussy that crosses your path! I was willing to accept that, all of that! I knew what you were, what you did, and I told you that I didn’t need any promises from you…” Swallowing away some of her emotion, Harlow hated showing him how he’d hurt her. “I won’t let you hide behind the excuse that you were trying to protect me. What you did to me these past four months is inexcusable. I won’t accept it. I can’t. You have no idea what I’ve been through and I had to do it alone. You left me. All of you left me. Abandoned me. When I thought you had no choice and your crew were going through the same grief as me, it made sense. I understood it. But this…” She shook her head. “I won’t ever understand this.”

  “Let me explain it to you,” he murmured, softening to tenderness. “Harlow, I meant it when I told you I loved you, in the ambulance and right now. I loved you then and I love you here. I love you.”

  Much as he sold it, she had to be honest. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I know. But I’m going to make you believe it. You’re my crew now,” he said and nodded upward. “You before them. Now
and always. I’ve told them that, they understand. All that matters to me is our future. Your happiness.”

  It was unfathomable that he couldn’t seem to grasp it was too little too late. He’d dug his own grave, and now he had to lie in it, dead or not.

  “Where were you all the nights I was begging you to come back to me?” she asked, pulling her hand out of his reach when he tried to touch her again. “You hurt me, more than anyone ever has and it was my fault. I gave you the power to do that to me… I won’t do it again.”

  Backing away, she twisted her arm behind her back to open the door and went out into the alley to begin walking. The goal? To put as much distance between her and Ryske as she could in the least amount of time and to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  17

  Harlow couldn’t deal with him. Adjusting her dial was difficult. It would take some time. Just looking into Ryske’s face made her want to believe he was the man she’d thought he was. Though, it was the rush his proximity provoked in her hormones that she resented the most.

  For so long, she’d craved him, been willing to do anything, tolerate anything, to have him back. And now that he was available, she felt only pain and betrayal. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t. Even if she let herself believe that he did, she’d never be able to accept what he said as truth.

  Clearing her mind, Harlow reminded herself that there were other things in the world, and she had a limited amount of time to plan her next move.

  Without a base, she had nowhere to dump her sports bag. Her usual morning session with Costello wouldn’t be possible. If Isla saw her rocking up with possessions in tow, she’d have a fit. Harlow didn’t want to put Costello through the aggravation.

  Deciding to be logical and linear, Harlow told herself that with every step, she was making progress. Going over to Felipe’s was the first port of call. She explained to the kid that the crew were back and that she wouldn’t be a part of Floyd’s anymore. The youngster didn’t understand at first; he’d assumed she’d be sympathetic with Dover and the others.

  Explaining that Ryske was back was more difficult because she didn’t have answers to the kid’s questions about where Ryske had been and what had happened.

  Martina interjected and sent Felipe off to do chores, giving them a chance to talk. It was nice to bond with a woman who had a man who’d let her down over and again. Martina’s man, Felipe’s father, Pablo, was in prison and he wasn’t a first timer. Martina had said she wasn’t going to take Pablo back this time and she seemed to be sticking by that, for now at least.

  Harlow did her best to empathize, but couldn’t really compare the situations. If Ryske had gone to jail, she wouldn’t have hesitated to stick by him. From their early days, he’d been clear about what he was. The law catching up to him had always been a possibility.

  In prison, she’d have known where he was and that he was alive.

  Believing him to be dead had devastated her. Her ideals, her emotions, all of her. He’d made a fool of her. It was that thought which stuck with Harlow after leaving the Soto’s house and heading toward her next stop.

  The way she’d acted after losing him, right up until he came back, made complete sense; she could justify all of her actions. But they only made sense if he’d really been gone.

  Thinking of the way she’d romanticized and idolized him mortified her. Harlow had known of his flaws and hadn’t forgotten them even in her grief. But, for some reason, she had made their relationship into some kind of tortured love forbidden by fate… Even that was romanticizing it.

  She had wanted to believe that the bullet had woken him up to the truth of their love the same way it had done for her. That if he’d survived, he’d have known she was his purpose and they would become an invincible force capable of anything with nothing powerful enough to tear them apart.

  But she’d been wrong.

  He was a guy, like any other. He’d seen an out and he’d taken it. Just because he’d chosen to show up out of the blue didn’t mean she could forgive him.

  That was another thing that niggled at her. Ryske had come back for a reason. Though there was a part of her that wanted to know what it was, she’d never be sure that he was telling her the truth even if she asked.

  Harlow had one thing clear in her mind. Just one. She had to go it alone. No one else was reliable. She could count on herself; that was it.

  Only one other person had been hit with this as hard as she had. Harlow couldn’t ignore her sympathy for the woman who’d been a kindred friend. Hence why Harlow made her way to that person’s door next.

  Knocking, Harlow waited for the door to open. “Ophelia,” she said as soon as she saw her friend.

  With a sigh, Ophelia pulled Harlow into her arms. The women hugged there on the doorstep for a good minute before going inside.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Ophelia said, leading her to the couch. “Would you like a sherry?”

  It wasn’t yet lunchtime, but given the day she’d had, Harlow was tempted to say yes. Resisting that temptation, she shook her head. “I wanted to come and check how you were doing.”

  “I’m…” Ophelia opened her mouth and shook her head, appearing as bewildered as Harlow felt. “I don’t even know what I am, Harlow.”

  “I understand that,” she said, taking both her hands and noting that the engagement ring was back in place on Ophelia’s finger. Subduing her surprise was near impossible, but Ophelia was gazing at the fireplace and didn’t seem to notice. “Are you going to take him back?”

  “I can’t… not,” Ophelia said, twisting toward her. “I don’t know, seeing him again… Oh, Harlow it was all I wanted for so long. Yes, I’m confused and probably hurt, but that’s nothing to how grateful I am just to have him with us again.”

  He hadn’t not been with them, but Ophelia’s wonder kept Harlow from pointing that out. That need was understandable, and it wasn’t her place to judge Ophelia’s gratitude.

  “We did know what he was,” she said and Ophelia nodded.

  Harlow had faced that truth herself. She’d known he was a con man. Part of her had suspected this outcome for a glimmer of a second, as she’d explained to Clyde. Dismissing it had been her failing, not Ryske’s. With him, anything was possible. Nothing was as it seemed. Her gullibility had made her fail to figure out that someone would go as far as Ryske had.

  “We did,” Ophelia said. “I am surprised that he didn’t confide in either of us… I’m sure he had his reasons. But, he didn’t lie to us about what he was capable of.” She grinned. “And, I suppose we can make him apologize to us in any way we want for as long as we want.”

  Try as she might, Harlow couldn’t make her smile anything more than feeble. “I guess we can.” Though it poisoned her throat, she forced herself to ask. “How is your brother?”

  Ophelia’s shoulder’s rose when she inhaled. “Incensed. Just as you’d expect him to be.”

  “Because Ryske is back or because I stabbed him?”

  Wariness crept over Ophelia. Harlow couldn’t blame her friend for being dubious. An evil corner of her soul did heat with pleasure whenever she thought about causing that bastard harm.

  “I’m sorry for the way he acted,” Ophelia said. “He isn’t happy. I think he… he wants your blood.”

  “Better my blood than my body.”

  Her friend disagreed. “Oh, Harlow, if you’d just—”

  “I agreed I’d share my body with Parratt or Yarker if we had to go that far,” she said. “I did not promise it to your brother… You have no idea what that man did to me.”

  The statement offended Ophelia. “He took Ryske from both of us and he was responsible for my best friend’s death. I know what he’s capable of and I understand it would sicken you to be intimate with him. But, it’s sex, Harlow… When it’s revenge you want, there can’t be any line you won’t cross.”

  Half the battle would already be lost for Harlow if she gave herself to Hagan li
ke that. Ophelia didn’t seem to understand.

  Not that it mattered any more. Walking away from Ryske meant walking away from Hagan, the consortium, and her revenge.

  “I told Ryske he could have my stake,” she said. “He’ll return my investment and then you two can partner.”

  For a moment, Ophelia examined her. “You want… out?” Harlow nodded. “You’re giving me and Ryske your blessing?” Again, Harlow nodded. “You… don’t want to be with him anymore?”

  “No,” she said, trying not to let her ironic laugh escape. “No, I want to be as far away from him as I possibly can be.”

  Her friend’s head tilted. “I thought you were in love with him.”

  “So did I, Ophe,” she said, watching their fingers thread together. “But, I can’t forgive this. I’m not built to… be made a fool of.”

  “You’re embarrassed?”

  “Yes,” she snapped, louder than she’d intended to, which startled Ophelia. “I’m sorry, I… I’m angry at myself more than at him. Like you said, we knew what he was. What he was capable of… what they were all capable of, but…”

  “You were deeper than I ever was,” Ophelia said, shifting closer to comfort her. “You knew everyone in his life.”

  “Not everyone,” she said. Although she couldn’t think of anyone specific, Harlow wasn’t going to make any assumptions when it came to his trust in her ever again. “But, yes, I…thought I was important, that…” Making herself smile, she patted the back of Ophelia’s hand. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. What’s important is the reality we’re in.”

  “You’re leaving?” Ophelia asked. “Where will you go?”

  “Home,” she said, just coming to the decision in that minute.

  Harlow had thought about what would happen next but hadn’t settled on where she’d go. The truth was, she had no choice. She couldn’t stay at Floyd’s, Costello wasn’t that close a friend, and her friendship with Clyde had been tossed on its ass. Going to her former colleague’s apartment would be awkward now that there was… that between them.