This was too much. Too close. Too intimate. In bed with him. In the dead of night.
Grabbing her last thread of resistance, Harlow swallowed and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. “Stop it, Ryske,” she protested. “Why are you doing this?”
“You like it tight?” Another squeak came from her throat when he squeezed her wrist so tight that she was sure he was close to crushing bones. “I like it tight too, baby… and I bet you can deliver.”
Suddenly, he pounced to his knees. Harlow froze. Ryske yanked the blankets from between their bodies and thrust them out of the way.
“Ryske,” she said, panting. “Ryske, what are you doing?”
Her nightgown was next to be pushed aside. He parted her legs with one rough hand while the other kept its conquering hold on her wrist. “For two weeks you’ve been hiding behind the excuse of my injury… tonight I show you that excuse is bullshit. I’m capable, baby. So damn capable you’ll forget how to breathe.”
She wasn’t sure that she could remember now. This was happening so fast. From sleep, to conversation, to… he dropped down over her. Against her inner thigh, she could feel his hand slip into his sweats, either to take them off or free himself.
Harlow was still trying to catch her breath and couldn’t figure out what to do. “Crash,” she said, and he paused for long enough to look her in the eye. Trying to distinguish his need from his determination, she slid a hand to his cheek to stroke him. “Make me a promise. Say it and mean it.”
Could he do it? Harlow knew he could say it. He was a conman capable of saying anything. If he said it, would she be able to tell if he meant it? She could pretend to believe it whether she did or not and let herself give in to him.
But she wouldn’t.
Harlow had been strong for the last two weeks. Desirable as he was, this man wouldn’t be able to give her what she wanted. Sure, a short-term fling would light up her world and, he was right, it would be the thrill of her life. But, she wouldn’t give him her heart, not for nothing.
Though he seemed to be searching her, she couldn’t tell what he was looking for. She needed something from him, but he needed something back. Until she knew what it was, there was no chance that she could give it to him.
A light on the nightstand beyond her shoulder drew his eye. A moment later, the sound of her phone ringing pierced the air.
Ryske surged up to snag the phone from the nightstand and answered it. Using the camera rather than the mouthpiece showed it was a FaceTime call. “What?” he snapped.
“Need you, man.”
Harlow recognized Noon’s voice and took the phone to turn it to her. Ryske came down to lie beside her so they could both see the screen.
“You’re not getting him,” she said, guessing that Noon was in a dark corner of Floyd’s from the noise and what was going on around him.
She couldn’t see many details, and didn’t know the bar that well since she’d only been there once. But, their underground dealings were at their busiest on a Friday night. She’d overheard the crew talking about it earlier in the week and figured that was probably why the guys had snuck away from her apartment without her coaxing them out.
Something like pride and relief crossed Noon’s face; he didn’t look as relaxed as he usually did. “I know interrupting Ryske when he’s getting laid is like a cardinal sin, but this is no joke.”
Trying her best not to be outraged, Harlow was about to tell Noon she was referring to Bale’s medical advice, not the bed that he’d be able to see they were sharing. Noon flipped the camera before she could speak. It took her a minute to figure out what she was supposed to be seeing through the shadows of the smoky place, but when she picked out the features of Alleyman, she gasped.
Ryske must have figured it out in the same second that she did. “On my way,” he said and disconnected the call.
Leaping from the bed, it took him just a few seconds to snatch up the clothes he’d discarded on the floor. Dressing as he strode from the bedroom, Ryske wasn’t thinking about anything except being where his crew needed him to be.
Snapping out of her shock, Harlow followed in his footsteps, scrambling from the bed and dashing out of the room. “Ryske!”
He was at the end of the breakfast bar, using it as support to step into his boots. “Save it, Trink.”
Glad that he had to bend and tie his boots, she used the delay to hurry across the room and put herself in front of him. “I don’t… I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“The wound is sealed. You said it yourself,” he said, straightening up. “The dressing is off. I’ll square things with Bale.”
He tried to go past her, but she got in his way, splaying both hands on his chest. “Crash, I…” Panic and fear were making her tremble. Harlow didn’t know what to say or how to get what she wanted, that was Ryske’s forte, not hers. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Touching her chin with a gentle caress, he didn’t lose any of his determination. “Only one thing stops me walking out that door.”
“One thing?” she asked, but her flash of hope was dashed when he curled a digit under the strap of her nightgown to draw it down her arm.
He’d stay if she offered her body to him.
Tilting his head, he began to descend. Before his mouth could make contact with hers, she turned her face away.
He didn’t argue or mock, just accepted that he had his answer and let his hand fall. “Take it easy, Trinket.”
This time when he skirted around her, she didn’t block his path. His friends needed him; that was all he cared about. Even if she’d offered him her body, he hadn’t promised to stay away from danger. The sad truth was, there would always be danger.
Providing his friends weren’t injured by Alleyman, they’d forgive Ryske for not showing up if he could declare he’d been busy screwing her. Or maybe he’d known she’d refuse, so the ultimatum was moot. There would be nothing stopping him from having sex with her and splitting the second they were done anyway.
Even if he didn’t, there would be more danger, maybe new danger, tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. Every risk lined up just waiting to bring peril to Ryske.
Hearing him leave broke her heart.
After two weeks recuperating from being stabbed, Ryske wasn’t at peak fitness. He’d been taking it easy, not working out or training. But her concern was about more than the level of ability.
If Alleyman was at Floyd’s for Ryske, or even if he wasn’t, and he just saw him walking in, he could do what he’d promised to in that alley and finish what he started. Ryske could be stabbed again, or shot, and though he’d be surrounded by his crew, that wouldn’t guarantee he’d be okay.
What boiled the acid eating her guts was that she’d never know. Harlow might never know what became of any of them.
Slumping back against the end of the breakfast bar, she struggled to hold herself up. As the adrenaline began to subside, she wrapped her arms around herself, guarding against the chill it left in its wake. Life without Ryske had happened as suddenly as he’d crashed into her life.
He was gone.
He wouldn’t be back. There would be no point in him coming back to her apartment after showing his face in Floyd’s again. Knowing he was practiced in what he did was all she could hang her hopes on. He’d be okay. She was probably panicking for nothing. His crew would see him safe.
Alone and feeling sorry for herself, being in the city had never felt so isolating. Harlow was free to go back to her life as it had been before. Life in the fast lane was over.
9
The first week that followed Ryske’s departure was odd.
Harlow had been living alone in her apartment for a couple of months before meeting Ryske, so it shouldn’t be weird to be there by herself. But, for some reason, without him and his crew around taking up space, the place seemed to echo.
During the second and third week, she tried to adjust, telling herself on a regular basis
that she had to move on. A month after he’d told her to take it easy and slipped out into the night, she was beginning to feel like herself again.
Though Harlow still found herself thinking of Ryske when she shouldn’t. Every time her mind wandered it ended up landing on him. On his inability to pick up after himself or make a bed. On his love of Szechuan and greasy blue burgers. On his smirk. His scent. His long showers, broad fingers… his strong grip.
Cajoling her mind away from her former houseguest and back to the moment, Harlow glanced around at the family services bullpen she’d been working in for two and a half months.
Seated outside her supervisor’s office, she was waiting for her boss, Gina, to get back, so they could do an urgent review of one of her current cases. The file on her lap contained the details she’d need for the meeting. In the meantime, all she could do was sit there and scan the busy space that was bustling with the colleagues she’d been trying to bond with since she got there.
Harlow sought a friend, but came up short. In ten weeks, she hadn’t met a single person who wanted more than a professional relationship. Considering herself friendly, she didn’t understand why it was so hard to connect with people.
Sometimes she got distracted and blinkered in work. Maybe that made a bad impression on her peers. That focus should make a better impression on Gina. Though it didn’t seem to. Despite being productive and efficient and thorough, Harlow doubted that her boss could pick her out of a line-up.
Gina came around the corner and stormed down the perimeter of the room with a look on her face like she was ready to take on the world. That certainty and determination was enviable. Gina was a hard woman, tough, maybe a little cynical, but she got the job done. Harlow admired how, despite coming from a difficult background, Gina stayed in the trenches to help the kind of people she’d grown up with even though the job was thankless and never ending.
Leaping to her feet when Gina passed, Harlow stayed close and followed the woman into the office, holding her file in one hand.
“Felipe Soto,” Gina said, dropping into her seat and pulling herself in at the desk. “I just got off the phone with the detective in charge. They’ve still got nothing. Our relationship with the police department is currency.”
Putting pressure on the already stretched police department wouldn’t win her team any friends. “I know,” Harlow said, feeling a little like a kid in front of the principal.
“You saw the kid the day he disappeared. His dad goes to jail and then the kid vanishes. The cops thought it was payback. Pablo Soto has enemies; he’s not an easy guy to warm up to.” Felipe’s father was a nasty piece of work. Harlow had never met him, reading the file was enough to bring her to that conclusion. “You said you got a sense of something else.”
Though there was a chair right beside her, she hadn’t been invited to sit, so Harlow just stood there, clutching her file. “I did. I… I told the police. Felipe spoke about his responsibility to his mom. How he wanted to look after her.”
“You know Clyde was working with him for a while, that he helped keep him away from the gangs in that neighborhood.” Gina laid her forearms on the desk and gave Harlow something of a condescending look. “I know you’re not from the city and some of the things you’ve seen have probably shocked your little suburban eyes.”
“I—”
“You’re still in your probationary period and losing a high-risk kid puts you on the watch list, you know?” That didn’t sound like a threat, but Harlow did get the sense that her boss wasn’t confident in her newest employee’s abilities. “We’ve worked with you a lot, everyone in this department has.”
Was that a complaint? Was Gina telling Harlow she was a burden or about to fire her ass?
“I appreciate everything you’ve done, I—”
“It’s Friday night; everyone gets together for a drink on a Friday.” Harlow had never quite made it to one of the weekly gatherings and got a sense she’d been judged for that too. “I want you to spend some time with Clyde. Talk to him. While our relationships with official agencies, like the cops, are important, it’s just as important that we cultivate relationships on the ground, in the neighborhood. Means when things like this happen, we can reach out to our own network. You know how it is, or you should… sometimes folks will say things to people who aren’t cops, people like us.”
“I know.”
As soon as she’d gotten the message that Felipe had been reported missing, Harlow had gone to see his mom, Martina. The cops were already there and after finishing with Martina, they’d taken a statement from Harlow too. Given that she had been working with the boy, she’d been on their list of people to talk to. Doing it at the Soto’s apartment just saved them from tracking her down at the social work office.
Harlow had suggested hitting the street to look for him herself. Both the detective in charge and Gina had told her not to.
Seemed that advice was about to change. “Tomorrow, if there’s been no news, we’re going to go by the neighborhood, see if we can get anyone to talk. You won’t be able to do much, but Clyde and I will introduce you around. It will help you to see how things work on the street. A day or two of following leads will be good for you. Part of our job involves playing detective sometimes. This is not your cushy little suburban office.”
So that was why Gina didn’t like her? Harlow came from an affluent home and a safe neighborhood. She’d expected it would take time to gain respect, but was at a greater disadvantage if no one would give her the chance to do that.
Gina was biased, it didn’t take a genius to see that. In their few encounters, Clyde had always been nice to her. Maybe some of his ease would rub off on the boss if they spent the next couple of days working together. If not, this was going to be the weekend from hell.
Harlow wasn’t disappointed, but only because she’d been right.
The weekend wasn’t off to a great start. Standing on a cold street corner, she tried shuffling her feet and rubbing her arms to heat herself up. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of complaining, so she tried to be subtle about combatting her discomfort.
Clyde was an interesting man. She’d spoken to him before but had never spent much time in his company. Last night, during their drinks with colleagues, Harlow had little choice except to bond with him. All through the Friday night, Gina had kept steering Harlow back to him, reminding her of Clyde’s experience on the streets.
There hadn’t been any word on Felipe overnight. Given that, Harlow had agreed to meet with Clyde and Gina that Saturday evening, on their own time, to canvass the neighborhood, asking questions about the youngster.
They’d learned that most everyone knew a neighborhood kid had been reported missing to the cops, but that only seemed to make the community more wary about answering questions.
Harlow hadn’t done a lot of talking; she’d done a lot of listening. It turned out that Felipe’s mother, Martina, had called the cops to report him missing, but had then tried to retract the report for some reason. People in the Soto apartment building had nice things to say about Felipe, and fewer nice things to say about some of the other kids who they seemed to think it was necessary to talk about.
As for pinpointing Felipe’s whereabouts, they’d had no luck.
After trying every apartment in the Soto’s building, and managing to speak with someone in maybe two thirds of the residences, they’d moved on to other buildings on the block. Without any leads there, the next thing was to try some of Felipe’s hang outs.
Someone Gina knew had walked past them on the opposite side of the street. Thinking she was more likely to get somewhere on her own, Gina had told Harlow and Clyde to wait while she went across to see if the woman knew anything useful.
Gina had been over there for at least three minutes. Whatever the woman was talking about, she was animated. Maybe rather than having something vital to say, the woman just over-exaggerated her movement to keep warm. Harlow figured she couldn’t
be the only one who was cold.
“Would you like my jacket?”
Clyde’s question took her attention away from Gina who was still chatting on the other side of the street. “Your… no, thank you… Then you’ll be cold.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman over here,” he said and when he smiled, she did too. He nodded toward Gina. “Do you think she’s getting anywhere?
“I hope so,” she said, though wasn’t optimistic given how they’d struck out consistently over the last four hours.
Pushing back the cuff of her jacket, Harlow checked her watch. It was closer to five hours since she’d met Clyde and Gina out here. Five hours of wandering without hope, feigning enthusiasm, asking questions and facing nothing but resistance.
As Harlow was righting her cuff, Gina bid her contact farewell and checked for traffic as she crossed the street. There were no cars in sight. For some reason, Noon popped into her mind. She wondered if people around here kept their cars parked somewhere else just in case he chose to swipe them.
“Anything?” Clyde asked when Gina reached them.
Gina shook her head and started down the street in a stroll. Harlow and Clyde fell into step on either side of her. Harlow had never seen Gina walk so slowly, usually she was in a rush to get from A to B. If her boss was sauntering, Harlow guessed either she was thinking about their next move or coming up short.
“It’s after midnight,” Gina said. “We can’t knock on anymore doors.”
“Probably not a good idea to keep walking the streets either,” Clyde said. “It’s dangerous around here after dark. We’ve been pushing our luck.”
It didn’t seem so scary when they were in lit buildings, talking to people. It didn’t feel so late either. Not until she thought about the young teen who could be out there somewhere scared and alone.
Still, Harlow agreed with Gina’s assessment that it was too late to go knocking on people’s doors. “So, is that it?” she asked. “Time to go home?”
Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1) Page 10
