Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1)

by Scarlett Finn

  Before he answered, he considered her. Rather than playing him by projecting innocence, she tried to appear as neutral as she could.

  Opening his mouth, he inhaled a deep breath, and took his time about blowing it out. “Floyd’s belonged to Dover’s father, a man we all knew, a good man… At least, good by our yardstick, maybe not by yours.”

  Putting the bowl on the nightstand, she curled a leg up onto the bed to twist further toward him. Though that gave his hand access to a little more flesh, he still followed her instruction and kept it out of her skirt.

  “I have no yardstick,” she said, resting her hand over his on her leg, mostly as a way to get his fingers to stay still given that they were beginning to awaken her skin. “It’s my job to be impartial. You can talk to me.”

  One side of his mouth stretched. Either he thought she was cute and innocent, or wading into something she’d never be able to handle. “He died a few years ago, and when he did, Dover took over running the bar.” She nodded. “For as long as I can remember…” He paused, maybe lingering over the decision of how much to tell her. “There’s been an underground casino in the basement.”

  She didn’t expect him to say that. The dark, dirty conditions of the bar she’d gone into didn’t scream glamorous casino, not even close. “Cards?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Among other things. Floyd’s has held the monopoly in the neighborhood for decades. Any upstarts who think they can take our business don’t last long.”

  “Hagan wants to take it?” she said, trying to figure things out. “I don’t understand though. You said you lost money to him. You must have played at his place. Why would he let you do that if you’re on Dover’s crew? He must know you’re loyal to Floyd’s.”

  Slipping his hand out from beneath hers, he curled his fingers against her jaw. “A sweet middle-class girl like you shouldn’t be in bed with a man like me.” Glancing around at the bed they were seated on, she wondered what her upbringing had to do with their association. His laugh made her attention snap back to him. “Man, those big innocent eyes are killer. Clueless or scamming, I don’t even care. I bet you’ve never met a man who wouldn’t fall to his knees for you… You ever done any grifting?”

  Though he probably thought the suggestion was a compliment, it made her laugh. “Are you trying to recruit me?” She tilted her head. “Bale said you don’t let anyone new on your crew. Are you thinking of using me once and then ousting me? If you’re asking me to do what I think you’re asking me to, I think they call that pimping, and much as I appreciate the offer, I have a job, Mr. Ryske.”

  “One that doesn’t allow you to reach your potential,” he said, caressing her jawline with his knuckles. “And, I’d never pimp you, baby.”

  Crooking a brow, she didn’t take his reassurance at face value. No one could accuse her of being naïve today. “Not until you’ve had the pleasure yourself, right?” she asked. The act of leaning closer let his hand slide a fraction higher on her leg. “It’s never going to happen, Crash.”

  The curve of his index finger glided down her jaw. “No?” he asked, raising his chin to align their mouths. “I think you’d be surprised by what we’re capable of, Trinket.”

  “We?” she asked. “You think your crew will help you to seduce me?”

  He didn’t blink, but his eyelids were getting heavier by the moment. “Fuck them, Trink. I’m talking about us. You and me, baby… We are gonna own the world… I’ll show you… Lemme help you…”

  “Last time I asked you to help me, it was to get you onto your feet, and you wanted something in return.”

  Satisfaction twisted his lips. “This time, I’ll give you something,” he said, using his loose, curled fingers to try tempting her mouth closer.

  The act of licking her lips fired a glint of triumph in his eyes. Except Harlow wasn’t preparing to kiss him, she was preparing to call him out.

  “You just can’t help yourself,” she murmured. “I don’t know what’s worse, that you think I’d believe this was real or that you believe I could be desperate enough to fall for it. Do you ever switch it off?”

  Though the light of victory was gone from his gaze, he didn’t come across as disappointed. Remaining where they were, in close proximity with their mouths only an inch or two apart, they both took the chance to reassess their assumptions about the other.

  “Oh, shit, Ryske,” Bale’s voice came from behind them. “In my bed? Really?” Sitting back, Harlow twisted to look over her shoulder. The doctor stood just outside the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair wet. “I agreed to take out the IV so you could use the bathroom, not for… this.”

  Unapologetic, Ryske was more amused than smug. “You gift-wrapped and hand-delivered a beautiful woman to me, doc. A man’s got to keep his skills polished.”

  Yeah, and that’s what Harlow had meant when she asked if Ryske thought she’d believe the seduction was real. Being a female, in proximity to a male who obviously enjoyed them, was enough for him. Not for her. The last thing she’d ever be for any man was a practice mannequin.

  “Polish them with your fist in the shower as soon as the doctor clears you for solo bathing,” she said, rising from the bed and flattening her skirt. Going to the end of the bed, she smiled at Bale. “If the others haven’t finished them, there are cookies in the kitchen. I’m going home to finish my research.”

  Bale nodded, moving closer. “You’ll let Noon drive you?”

  “I will. Saves me cab fare.”

  “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

  “After work,” she said. “I’ll come straight from the office.”

  “I’m on second shift at the hospital tomorrow, but one of the guys will be here to let you in.” Bale glanced toward the bed, but she was pleased not to have to look at the patient. “I want him off his feet for at least the next couple of days. Can you stay until about ten thirty? I should be back by then, I don’t trust the others.”

  “I understand,” she said and took his hand. “Of course I’ll stay.”

  “Whoa, hey, wait,” Ryske said, making them turn. The patient wasn’t so at ease anymore, he was struggling to straighten his position. “You don’t trust my guys to what? And why the fuck is she holding your hand?”

  Drawing her attention away from Ryske, Harlow showed that she wasn’t afraid to ignore him. “I’ll leave my number by the phone,” she said. “Call me if you need anything. And, make sure he has his IV in before you leave.”

  “I will,” Bale said, switching a glare to Ryske. “If it’s gone by the time you get here, we’ll know he went against medical advice.”

  She let Ryske see her smile. “Which I know you’re not allowed to do or you lose your doctor.”

  Defeated, and maybe a little petulant, Ryske slumped against his pillows. “Aren’t you people supposed to help others not conspire against them?”

  “For you, we make an exception,” Bale said.

  Stepping forward, Harlow took Bale’s hand to guide him down so she could kiss his cheek, shocking both men.

  Bale’s smile began to slope upwards.

  “Yeah, you smile, doc,” Ryske said. “Just don’t forget how much time that mouth is gonna spend wrapped around my cock in a few weeks.”

  Forgetting to be offended, Harlow let herself be amused by Ryske’s audacity, maybe because it horrified Bale so much. Turning to Ryske, she kept her tongue pointed against her upper lip while she absorbed the arrogance in his gaze.

  “Never gonna happen,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear and backed toward the door to slip out.

  Ryske was her friend; the crew he ran with would come around to being her friends too. They weren’t her usual fare of people. Although she hadn’t been in the city for long, but already she was broadening her horizons and learning it was a hell of a lot of fun.

  5

  By Friday night, it had become routine for Harlow to head over to Bale’s after work. Usually, she went straight
there. But, that night, she had taken a detour to her apartment to change her clothes before swinging by to check on the patient.

  “Hey,” she said, walking into Bale’s apartment to find him alone at the dining table with files spread out around him. “Are you okay?”

  Harlow took off her jacket and hung it up by the door. Bale ran a hand through his hair. Concern drew her closer; she’d never seen him look so disheveled. Taking care of Ryske while maintaining his regular schedule had to be taking its toll.

  Moving into his peripheral vision made him raise his attention from whatever he was working on. When he noticed her, and what she was wearing, he perked up.

  “Wow,” he said, his amazed eyes moving over her body. “That’s some dress.”

  “Do you like it?” she asked, turning on the spot to show off the pale blush pink Bardot bodycon dress that crisscrossed over her chest.

  “Are you sure you want to go in there wearing that?” Bale asked, fixating on her legs.

  She’d stopped asking to go into the bedroom at the start of the week. Ryske had zero modesty anyway and was used to various people wandering in and out around him. Dover’s comment about the crew knowing each other a long time was accurate if their familiarity was anything to go by. They all seemed incredibly used to having each other around in close quarters.

  Heading for the bedroom, Harlow had no hesitation. With her hand on the door handle, she twisted to face the doctor again, propping her arm on the door. “Why wouldn’t I be sure? It’s Ryske.”

  A man she was far from scared of. “It’s Ryske. That’s exactly what I’m getting at,” Bale muttered, hunching over his work again.

  Shaking her head, she left him to his task and swept into the bedroom.

  Like he’d been expecting her, Ryske started talking before he’d even looked at her. “Trink, I’ve been—whoa, fuck!”

  It wasn’t difficult to pick out the moment he’d spotted her dress.

  Slouched, facing the TV that was on the wall by the door, Ryske was quick to turn off the screen and sit up straighter.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, turning in a slow spin like she’d done for Bale.

  Like a kid at Christmas, his glee was almost palpable. “Hell, yeah,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “You didn’t have to dress up for me, Trink. I’ve been ready for you all week.” Slapping his uninjured hip, he held his other hand toward her. “Come to papa, baby.”

  Laughing at his enthusiasm, Harlow bent over to lift her feet and pull off her heels in turn. Once they clattered onto the floor, she crawled onto the empty side of the bed next to him.

  “I can’t stay long,” she said, propping her head on her hand when she stretched out on her side. “I have somewhere to be.”

  Rolling onto his side to face her, Ryske was higher in the bed, and sort of loomed above her. Being near to him made her feel protected. That was probably why she didn’t object when he ran his fingers through the length of her hair from her temple to the ends. Letting it slip from between his digits, he draped it down her upper arm. From there, it cascaded across her back and chest.

  She couldn’t take her focus from him as he watched her hair fall. “Date?” he murmured, capturing a loose section of her locks. She shook her head. “Good, ‘cause I’d hate to have to come out of hiding just to kill a guy for wanting you… You are too beautiful.” Bowing closer, he breathed in the scent of her hair. “You always smell so expensive.”

  “I’m more than you can afford.”

  “As you like to remind me,” he said.

  Putting a hand to his shoulder, she eased him onto his back. Teasing was fine. Flirting was the norm. But she had to be in charge of boundaries because Ryske didn’t have any.

  Checking on him was supposed to be the purpose of the visit. “How have you been today?”

  He groaned. “I’m so sick of being in this bed. Bale won’t even let me go on the fucking treadmill.”

  Being glued to one place was driving him nuts. Every day, she witnessed his frustration level ratchet up a notch. Like a tiger pacing in a cage, he was ready to take a swipe at anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Anyone except her. There was no way he’d ever take a swipe at her.

  Reassuring him, letting him vent his irritation, was her role. “He was letting you do weights,” she said, swaying across him to tug his waistband from his hip to check his dressing. “Do you want me to change your dressing?”

  Bale had showed her how to do it. Ryske seemed to prefer her doing it for some reason, probably for the variety. The doctor spent a lot of time poking around at his patient; Ryske had less patience with him.

  “Not in that pretty dress,” he said, stroking her hair again. “But, if you want to take it off…”

  Flipping her hair so she could look up the length of his torso at him, her chin was just above the line of his sweatpants. She wasn’t surprised when he winked at her. The mischief of his eyes complemented his smirk.

  “I can change your dressing without getting my dress dirty.”

  His mind didn’t seem to be on the practical. A moment passed. Each second grew more charged than the last.

  Eventually, he exhaled a long breath. “Goddamn, I’ve never met a woman so good at teasing me,” he said through his gritted teeth.

  “I don’t tease you,” she said. That wasn’t the first time he’d accused her of doing it though. Passing the blame onto her seemed to be his way of justifying what happened when there was an awakening in his pants. Planting a hand on the bed by his wound, she pushed up to reach for the pillow he wasn’t using from the head of the bed and slapped it onto his lap. “And, we’ve talked about that.”

  Sitting up, she curled her legs at her side and supported her upper body on one straight arm.

  “You encourage my blood flow better than anyone else,” Ryske said, sliding down on the bed and slipping a hand to the back of his head. “One day you’ll let me show you.”

  His ease and assurance were, in a lot of ways, admirable. “I have never known a man as confident as you,” she said, almost in awe of him. “I’ve known arrogant guys, met plenty of them through work or my family. You’re so… easy about it.”

  His fingertips drifted up her locked arm. “Trinket, for you, I’ll always be easy,” he said, picking her loose hand from the bed to put it onto his abs. “Do that thing you do with my tats and your nails.”

  Skootching closer, she lay down on her side again, curling her elbow beneath her head for support. With her other hand, she traced the outline of his tattoo over his hip to his abs and his ribs, taking her time, moving her nail slowly. He groaned again. Although a smile warmed her lips, she didn’t look up; she was too comfortable to move.

  “You don’t know how good that feels,” he said. “Can’t wait ‘til it’s your mouth.”

  “You will never feel my mouth on your body, Crash,” she said, but kept drawing around the tattoo with her nail.

  For whatever reason, it soothed him to feel her fingernails move on his skin.

  “You said never about lying in bed with me and you fell asleep there last night.”

  She had.

  Earlier in the week, when she’d asserted she would never lie in bed beside him, Harlow hadn’t realized they’d be watching movies and hanging out as much as they had. Each day this week had been dedicated to Ryske and his crew and been spent in this apartment.

  Harlow had done her homework on the floor on Monday night, while the crew shouted at some sports thing on the TV. Tuesday, she’d spent some time talking with Ryske, telling him about her work and education, including the course she was close to completing. Whether he was or not, it felt like he’d been listening; she got the impression he was interested. Although, he was a sort of a conman, so that was an important tool of his trade.

  On Wednesday, she’d been happy to chill and watch movies with him. To do that, it had just been easier to lie on the bed with him. Although she was overt in her efforts to le
ave obvious space between them, at some point during that movie night any illusion of distance or decorum had been erased. Harlow couldn’t remember how.

  After putting on an action movie the previous night, she’d fallen asleep. It had been a long week and the toil had caught up with her. Didn’t help that the movie wasn’t all that good either.

  Her blossoming trust in Ryske had proved to be founded. Although she’d woken up with a start next to him, her clothes were still in place and undisturbed; he’d kept his hands to himself.

  With her nails dancing across his skin, Harlow wasn’t returning the favor. “What does the one on your wrist mean?” she asked.

  Trailing her fingernail up, down, and around on his abdomen, she paused at the waistband of his sweatpants to reverse course.

  “If you want to see how far the one you’re playing with goes,” he murmured. “Take my pants off.”

  The claws of the tattoo did extend to his thigh. “I’ve seen you without your pants,” she said. Keeping her hand on the outside of his sweats, she slipped a hand beneath the pillow that was still over his lap to trace the area of the scar on his thigh that Bale had shown her. “How did you get the scar?”

  “Messed with the wrong girl.”

  “A woman did it to you?”

  “Her protector,” he said, letting his fingers tangle in her hair while her nail returned to tracing his abdominal tattoo. “You sounded surprised. Do you think women can’t wield a weapon? Soon as I’m out this prison, I’m buying you a piece. You shouldn’t be walking around in neighborhoods like mine without a weapon.”

  A smile curved her lips, though she tried to keep it to herself. “Maze promised if I needed help, I could track him down in Floyd’s. Besides, I wasn’t the one who wound up with a knife in my gut. That was you… I did pretty well in your neighborhood. I go to work in your neighborhood every day.”

  “After that day is over, it becomes a playground for men like me.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she said on a half-laugh. “You’re not dangerous.”