by Laura Kaye
Shane’s gut clenched. No defense there. Instinct told him the truth was the only chance he had to keep her from shutting him out for good. “Yes. I really need your help. I thought maybe it would be easier for you to talk away from the club.”
Jenna’s muscles went slack on a groan, recapturing their attention. Her eyelids lifted sluggishly, as if they were made of five-pound weights.
“Okay, sweetie, just hang in there. I’ll get you inside,” Crystal said, sliding her hands under the other woman’s shoulders.
Shane gripped his thighs and forced himself still. “Let me help,” he said, itching to just pick Jenna up since it was pretty damn clear Crystal wasn’t going to be able to move her unconscious like this. But he sensed that doing it without her permission would bring down all sorts of shutters, and so far he wasn’t making great headway in winning her over.
The debate played out across her expression, then her gaze dropped to Jenna’s face. She stroked her sister’s cheek and sighed. “Okay. But just because I know I can’t get her up the steps like this. And she could be out of it for a good half hour.”
Nodding, Shane scooped up his coat and the woman and rose to his feet. She couldn’t weigh more than a buck twenty soaking wet. Jenna was totally out, exhaustion from a severe epileptic seizure often sent a person into a sleep state immediately afterward and left them drained for the next day or two. Crystal had a damn lot on her plate. Even more than he’d known.
For a moment, Crystal mother-henned over her sister in his arms, as if making sure he wasn’t hurting her. With a resigned expression, she finally said, “This way.”
As he followed Crystal up the set of concrete steps, he realized he’d learned something important about her tonight. She didn’t like to receive help. And she didn’t like to ask for it. But she would if her sister was the one who needed it.
Damn if he didn’t respect that.
And, Jesus, if he’d thought Crystal sexy with too much skin showing, she was even sexier in the tee and faded jeans, her hair swept into a long ponytail. Damn, even the painted toes sticking out of her flip-flops intrigued him.
At the door, she stopped and looked around, like she was making sure no one noticed them, then she let him in.
The apartment was small and plain, but clean and organized. Crystal led him through the combination living-dining room decorated in shades of blue and past the galley-style kitchen to a narrow hallway at the back. Three doorways stood in the dimness of the space, a bathroom and presumably each of their bedrooms. They entered the one on the right, and Crystal clicked on the small lamp on the bedside table.
The orderliness of the rest of the apartment stopped at Jenna’s bedroom door.
The room was like a bookstore with a double bed in one corner. One of those old, used bookstores where it was possible the removal of a single book from the shelf might bring the whole place collapsing in on itself. Towering stacks of books sat on every flat surface, including the carpeted floor, and one whole wall was lined with overflowing shelves.
“So, she likes to read, then,” he said as he gently laid Jenna onto the rumpled comforter. Colorful flowers and butterflies on a white background. A butterfly mobile hung from the ceiling in front of one window. Shane resisted the urge to check that Molly’s necklace still lay safe in his pocket. And to think this girl’s apparent fascination with his sister’s favorite creature was some kind of a sign.
Crystal smirked and busied herself with the covers. “What gave it away?”
It wasn’t the smile he’d been going for, but it was a start. He hoped.
Jenna’s breathing was raspy—not unusual after a seizure, and Crystal sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her palm over the younger woman’s forehead. “So, uh . . .” She frowned. “You were a doctor in the Army?”
Shane studied the reluctant expression she wore, the lines of worry settled into her forehead, the way the soft, red waves of her ponytail cascaded over her shoulder. “I cross-trained as a medic.”
On a long sigh, Crystal shook her head and stood. “Well, thank you for helping her. I . . . I don’t know how I would’ve gotten her inside . . .” Her gaze landed everywhere but on his.
He frowned, sensing the good-bye from a mile out. “I’m glad I was here.”
She hugged herself. “You should go.”
And there it was. “Crystal—”
She gestured to be quiet and led him out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind them. In the dimness of the hallway, she looked up at him, a war of emotions on her face. “You can’t be here.”
“Why not?” he said. Not only did he need her help, but the fact that she and her sister might need his had his feet rooted firmly in place. All of a sudden, his brain assembled the last few minutes into a puzzle picture he didn’t like. “Wait. Is she not receiving treatment for the epilepsy?”
Crystal’s eyebrows slashed downward, and outrage dropped her mouth into an oval. “Of course she’s receiving treatment.”
Shane held his hands up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It just seemed like you might want my help. For her,” he added.
She didn’t school her expression fast enough, and Shane saw the rightness of his analysis.
“Come on, Crystal. What’s going on?”
She turned on her heel and walked the short distance to the living room. “You really need to go.”
Shane sat down on the well-worn denim couch and crossed his boot over his knee.
She gawped. It was almost comical how expressive her face could be. When she let it.
“What’s going on?” he repeated.
“I don’t even know you.”
“That’s why I was hoping we could talk.” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the large flat-screen mounted to the opposite wall. Beneath it sat a bookshelf with a variety of high-end equipment—DVD player, receiver, stereo, speakers. Sweet setup, but not a single piece of it matched the worn-out nature of the rest of the women’s belongings. Odd, since Crystal didn’t strike him as the type to splurge on luxuries, not when the woman’s truck was likely so old it was flirting with a historic vehicle designation.
She arched an eyebrow. “You can’t be here.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. Jesus, if—”
Shane was off the couch and in front of her. “If what?” He tucked a few bronze wisps off her face and behind her ear, then let his fingers graze her cheekbone. The gentleness belied the storm whipping up inside him at the near reference to her tormenter.
She stepped back. “It doesn’t matter.”
Like hell it doesn’t. Crossing his arms, Shane waited.
“God, I can’t get rid of you.” Exasperation had her throwing up her arms.
“I specialize in pain in the ass, darlin’.” He smiled, forcing himself to gear down the intensity.
“Well, congratulations, because you clearly graduated with honors.”
He grinned and watched as she twisted her lips to avoid doing the same. The problem was clearly that she didn’t think she should talk, but his gut told him she wanted to. That she was dying to. “I just want to be your friend, Crystal.”
All traces of humor disappeared from her face. “I don’t have friends.”
“You don’t have them? Or you’re not allowed to have them?” Shane worked hard to keep his voice neutral.
“The reason doesn’t matter. And it’s none of your business.”
Goddamn. Had he ever worked this hard to get a woman to warm up to him? Far from making him back off, the strength of her defenses had him worrying about why she felt she needed them.
He closed the distance between them. “Okay, no friends, then. But I could still help you and Jenna.”
She sighed and looked him in the eye. “We don’t need your help.”
Just then, a thump and a muffled cry sounded from the back of the apartment.
Chapter 5
Crystal was down th
e hall and through Jenna’s bedroom door in an instant. After years of dealing with this, her body reacted instinctively anytime Jenna needed help. Sure enough, Jenna had fallen out of bed and now lay disoriented and struggling to untangle herself from her covers.
“Hold on, Jen, I’m here,” she said, easing the blankets from her body. Jenna looked up at her with a confused stare that made Crystal’s chest ache. The disorientation was normal after one of her seizures. Sometimes she even had memory lapses. She’d been having them more frequently the past few months, but it had been a long time since she’d had one this bad. What in the world had triggered it?
Crystal didn’t know the answer, though she intended to question Jenna about her recent activities when she was well enough. Certain things could bring on an epileptic attack, and Jenna wasn’t always as strict about avoiding those as she needed to be. All Crystal knew was she absolutely hated not being able to do more for her sister when the seizures hit.
“Can I help?” Pretty Boy asked from behind her.
Twin reactions coursed through Crystal. A knee-jerk desire to tell him she’d love his help because, God, it would be so nice to have someone to lean on now and then. And he was a freaking doctor, for God’s sake. Or, medic. Whatever. Given Jenna’s condition, his skills would’ve been at the top of a perfect-man wish list. If she’d ever made such a thing. Which she hadn’t because dreams were for other people. She’d well learned that lesson.
But alongside that yearning for help came the soul-deep certainty that giving in to such a feeling was a one-way ticket to all kinds of trouble. Because this man and her boyfriend were obviously enemies, and Bruno wouldn’t tolerate her being friends with—or, hell, even talking to—this guy even if they weren’t.
Still, she did need to get Jenna in bed. And he was already here . . .
Clearing her throat, Crystal nodded without looking at him. “Would you help me get her back in bed, please?”
He was immediately beside her, heat and strength radiating off of him. “Of course.”
Crystal chanced a glance at him and instantly regretted it. Because his expression was filled with pure earnest desire to help her. To help them. And, no, she hadn’t forgotten that he was hoping for some sort of help from her, too. But he’d never once suggested any of this was a quid pro quo. She rose and gave him room to pick up Jenna.
He lifted her sister and, just like earlier, the gentleness and care with which he handled Jenna almost tempted Crystal to give in . . . to open up . . . One knee braced on the mattress, he leaned forward so he could place Jenna closer to the wall. So she wouldn’t fall out of bed again, so she wouldn’t hurt herself. Crystal didn’t need him to explain why he’d done it because it was exactly what she would’ve done. And there was that temptation again. Causing her stomach to flutter and her heart to race.
Without asking, the man retrieved the blanket from the floor and laid it over Jenna like she was a baby he didn’t want to wake. He was a big guy—tall, broad-shouldered, muscular—and the gun holstered under his arm said he was dangerous, too. But he was also the most gentle, kind man she’d ever met.
God, I need to get him out of here.
Holding a pile of books so it wouldn’t topple, he eased the nightstand a few inches away from the side of Jenna’s bed.
Crystal didn’t know whether to scream or throw herself at him—an odd thought for someone who’d lived through what she had.
“Come on,” she whispered. Not wanting to chance seeing him do one more thoughtful thing, she turned and marched to the door, then glared at him as he crossed the room.
The moment he registered her annoyance was clear because the concerned expression slid off his face in exchange for a confused one. “What?” he whispered, closing the door without making a sound.
And that was when she realized. She’d been on the verge of cursing him out and tossing his unfairly sexy butt out the front door. But she didn’t know who it was she’d be cursing or tossing.
All this time he’d been in her house, and she’d never asked his name.
Smart, Crystal. Real smart.
And as much as she needed to stick with Plan A and make him go, that wasn’t what came out of her mouth. “I don’t even know your name,” she bit out.
He smiled.
Oh, my God, did he smile.
It was a smile that made her think of lazy summer afternoons spent lying in the sun. Warm and sweet and reassuring.
“Well, pardon my manners, darlin’.” He extended his big hand. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m Shane.”
“Shane, huh?” she said, dropping her gaze to his hand as he lowered it to his side again. Because the combination of the Southern lilt to his voice with that smile and that face was too much to take in all at once. “Just Shane?” She peered up under her lashes.
For an instant, those gray eyes narrowed. Assessing. Weighing. No way he was going to tell her his real name. Not after—
“Shane McCallan.” He said it in a low voice, almost a whisper, like he didn’t want anyone but her to hear.
And Crystal nearly gasped. If he’d have hit her, she would’ve been less surprised. Because her gut said he was telling the truth. And, God, that meant he’d just given her all kinds of power. And the intense cast of his gaze told her he was well aware of that, too.
“Shane McCallan,” she murmured, needing to try the name out on her tongue. Shaking away the sensation that the floor might be moving, she gestured him toward the living room.
“Wait,” he said, a thumb pointing over his shoulder. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”
She couldn’t stop the eye roll. Because, suuure, why the hell not? He might as well just kick his shoes off and stay for dinner at this point.
He winked and turned for the door.
“Light switch is on the left,” she said.
He closed the door—quietly again—and Crystal stood there for a moment. When she realized she was staring at the door, like maybe she could will him out, she whirled and made a straight shot for the living room. Where she stood again, not knowing what to do with herself.
All at once, she became conscious of the apartment. When her father went to prison, they’d lost the house she and Jenna had lived in their whole lives to legal fees and their father’s debts to Church. And, with Bruno’s help, they’d landed at this inexpensive and not very nice apartment complex with a handful of their belongings they’d managed to hang on to. She’d been damn proud of every one of her garage-sale finds at the time, but now she wondered what Shane saw when he looked around. And would he wonder how a woman with a houseful of obvious hand-me-downs had afforded all the high-end media equipment? The flat-screen TV, various components, and stereo were all Bruno’s doing. His patience with her no-bells-and-whistles TV had lasted about five minutes.
Crystal fought the urge to plump the throw pillows, put her running shoes away, and try to make the yellowed blinds hang straight. She kept the place neat and homey for her and Jenna, but Crystal never worried about what others might think because she never had visitors. She paced into the galley-style kitchen and had to resist washing the breakfast dishes.
Gah! Whatever!
The only person who ever saw the inside of the place besides her and Jenna was Bruno. On a few rare instances, one of his guys had stopped by to see him on business. But Crystal could count the number of times that had happened on one hand.
Speaking of Bruno . . . Crystal tore her cell phone from her pocket and woke up the LED screen. Her shoulders sank in relief. She hadn’t missed any calls or texts while she’d been dealing with Jenna . . . and Shane. Bruno was obsessive about her responding immediately when he contacted her. A missed message could have him showing up at her door.
And that would be really, really bad right now.
Good thing he’d made it clear he wouldn’t be over tonight. And she felt confident in that. Because not only did he have a crisis to handle for Church, but he often stayed away for
a day or two after he’d beat her. Like he didn’t want to see the evidence of his handiwork on her skin.
Frowning, she slipped her phone back into her jeans and wondered what the hell was taking Pretty Boy so long. Even though she now knew his name, she suspected the nickname wouldn’t disappear anytime soon from her thoughts.
Not that she’d be thinking about him or anything.
She rounded the doorway of the kitchen in time to see Shane turning out the bathroom light and striding up the short hallway toward her.
Guy had to be over six feet tall. And man, he moved in ways that made her curious about things she had no business being curious about. Like what someone so gentle and so kind and so mind-bogglingly sexy would be like in bed . . .
Heat immediately flooded her cheeks, the curse of her pale skin. At the same time, her stomach went on a roller-coaster ride. The thought of trying to be with someone else after what’d happened to her was like free-falling off the edge of a cliff—freeing and terrifying at the same time.
Shane lifted a single eyebrow, and it was like he knew she found him attractive. He was probably used to women throwing themselves at him, pretty as he was. His gaze trailed a quick but unmistakable path up and down her body, and she felt it like a physical caress. Her nipples pebbled under the thin cotton T-shirt, and arousal stirred through her blood in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe not ever.
And then he was right in front of her.
She wanted to retreat. She wanted to press herself against all that hard, male heat.
“So, what is it you want?” she asked instead, anxiety making the words come out more harshly than she’d intended.
Eyes like liquid silver, he stared at her so intently, she would’ve sworn he could see right into her soul. Then he shook his head, stepped to the bookshelf under the TV, and flicked a series of buttons on the stereo. Not so loud that it should disturb Jenna, a sexy, soulful song filled the air around them. “Do you like to dance, Crystal?” he asked in a low voice.
“Uh, what? Why?”
His smile was crooked, playful. “ ’Cause dancing’s something people do when they’re getting to know each other.”
