They were alone in what could be an unfriendly place. Clyde should be focused on the potential danger, not his shock of her connection to the notorious establishment. Figuring maybe it was different for guys, and that Clyde was confident he could handle himself in a fight, Harlow told herself not to worry about him. She hadn’t promised him protection and he hadn’t asked for it.
“Yes, they are.”
“And you couldn’t have just told us that?” he asked. “You couldn’t have been honest and said, ‘Hey, you know what? My boyfriend hangs out in Floyd’s, I’ll be perfectly safe.’ Why not just tell us about Mr. Friendly? I can really tell what you see in him.”
Blowing out a breath, she hated judgement, but passive aggressive was even less attractive. “The man you just met is not my boyfriend. But he does know people who may be able to help us track down Felipe, which is the point, right? We’re doing this to find a teenager who could be lost or up to God knows what.”
“I could’ve helped you,” he said and laid a hand over hers on the bar. “You didn’t have to get yourself mixed up with the people in here to do your job. When did you meet him? Was it after Felipe went missing? Let me guess, you tried to go looking on your own without telling anyone, before you came out last night with me and Gina, didn’t you?”
Thinking she was some sort of crusader was giving her more credit than she was due. “Clyde,” Harlow said, shaking her head.
He continued before she had a chance to finish. “What did they ask you to do?”
Picking up her hand, he took it to his lap. Just the act of putting her hand in such a personal place seemed intimate, so much so that it startled her into looking down, though the shadow of the bar made it too dark to see anything.
“I don’t think—”
“I’ve seen you around the office, read some of your notes. I know you. I’m not sure you’re ready for a neighborhood like this. These guys will eat you up and spit you out if you’re not careful.” The cool caress of his damp fingers moved from his beer bottle onto her cheek. “You can’t let them take advantage of you.”
Blinking up into his soft eyes, that were almost pitying, she knew he thought her to be naïve, probably verging into stupid. In his narrative, she would deserve anything she got for wandering into a dangerous place like this and demanding answers.
“Clyde, I—”
Harlow wasn’t sure what she’d been about to say, and she never got the chance to find out. Her words were cut off when her colleague was suddenly yanked from his stool. Before she could even think to leap from hers, the harsh thwack of a fist smacking into flesh echoed through the air.
Clyde flew back into her view. Spinning around, he flopped over the bar, smacking his head against it, then slithered to the floor.
Fear and confusion pumped through her, fueled by a surge of adrenaline. Whipping around so fast that her neck cracked, Harlow expected to find an out of control drunk or maybe a strung out sociopath.
Instead, she saw a tall, broad, and terrifying Ryske.
With his fists balled and his arms tensed, she could see his shoulders rising and falling as he inhaled and exhaled, deep, furious breaths. All his focus was on Clyde; she wasn’t sure he was even aware of her.
“Get up,” Ryske hissed, beginning to advance again.
Anyone within spitting distance scrambled away, pushing aside tables and knocking over chairs in their haste to get out of Ryske’s periphery.
Rushing to intercept him, Harlow threw all of her body weight against him. “No,” she said, slapping her hands to his chest. “No! Crash, stop!”
Clyde was still cowering on the floor. If he was smart, he’d stay there.
“Out of the way, Trink,” Ryske growled.
With one arm, he managed to sweep her aside like she weighed nothing, clearing his path to Clyde.
Harlow was still finding her footing when she spotted Dover coming in with Maze just behind him. “Dover!”
Her exclamation made him and Maze jump to attention. Knowing his own place, Dover had noticed there was something going on, but hadn’t zoned in on it until she called out.
With moist palms pressed to her upper chest, all Harlow could do was watch with wide eyes. Dover and Maze rushed over and fought with Ryske to pull him away from Clyde who had his arms up protecting his face, fearful of Ryske’s next punch.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dover screamed, shoving Ryske back.
Maze pinned his confused anger on her. “What the fuck were you doing? Blowing the guy?”
Ignoring Maze, she went to crouch at Clyde’s side. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to coax his arms down from blocking his head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t fucking touch him, Trink,” Ryske spat with visceral fury.
Crash didn’t have the monopoly on rage. Tossing her hair over her shoulder to look back at him, she saw Dover and Maze still fighting to hold their friend back. Surging to her feet, Harlow marched over, glad that Dover was still holding onto the manic Ryske, not because she was afraid of him, but because Clyde didn’t deserve another hit. He hadn’t deserved the first one.
“How dare you treat my friend this way!”
Dover struggled against Ryske’s strength but managed a glance at her. “What happened? What the fuck did—”
“Your buddy came from nowhere and smacked my friend in the face for no reason!”
Surprise made Dover relax enough that Ryske almost got past him. The bartender managed to strengthen his grip again just in time to catch his friend. Maze rushed in to back him up. Harlow didn’t think that Ryske was really fuming enough to force his way past his friends. It seemed like he was trying to reinforce his point by blustering and making it difficult for them to keep him still.
Maze hadn’t lost his confusion, if anything, it grew. “I have never seen you throw the first punch,” he said and glanced to Dover who gave Ryske a shake.
“Who is he, man?” Dover asked. “What happened?”
“I told you what happened,” she said and shoved Maze aside to sock Ryske’s shoulder. “How do you like it, asshole?”
Ryske’s agitation narrowed into laser precise focus that zoned in on her. His hand shot up to grab her by the throat. His grip was sure. Not tight enough to restrict her breathing or hurt her. Enough to possess her. To claim and own her.
Fixated on each other, their shallow breathing sank into sync. She stilled, like an animal playing dead.
“Whoa, hey,” Maze said.
Dover tried to grab Ryske’s hand away from her, but the first move Harlow made was to brush him aside.
Still transfixed on the other, Harlow was sure she and Ryske made quite the spectacle, or she would think that if she could focus on anything other than the intensity of his gaze. Ryske walked her backward, anyone in their path scrambled. He didn’t stop until her back hit the bar.
“When I told you I won’t let any other man have you, I meant it. So, either you brought him here to get my attention, which you have, or you want me to take him out, which I will… Which is it?”
“Neither,” she said, not taking her eyes from his while seeking his loose hand. Threading their fingers together, she had hopes of calming him. “I didn’t bring him, Noon brought me. Clyde was waiting for me outside, he’s my colleague.”
His attention dropped to the floor at their side where Clyde was still cowering. “A stalker? Is that right?” he asked. “You lured him to the right place.”
With a finger on his jaw, she brought his attention to her. “Not a stalker, Crash, a friend,” she said. “Will you please be reasonable?”
Ryske didn’t answer. If he wanted to beat on Clyde, he could. That he wasn’t taking that chance showed they’d made progress. She hoped. They would stay in this face-off all night unless someone broke it. So, Harlow pushed Ryske back, demanding enough space that she could bend over to pull Clyde to his feet.
Clyde cleared his throat a few times, wary of those around h
im, and what he’d just endured. “Your, uh… boyfriend, I guess?”
There was no time to respond.
“What the fuck happened in here?” Noon’s voice exploded behind her. “I was gone five fucking minutes.”
“You thought it was smart to let guys hit on her at the bar?” Maze asked, stepping up behind Clyde to pick up a stool and sit down. “Least we know who can’t keep her safe now. You need a fucking sitter of your own, Noon. Use your damn head.”
13
The music started again. People began to pick up furniture and shuffle back to their previous positions. Harlow tried to take a step toward Clyde, but Ryske’s arm snaked around her waist to jolt her back against his chest with such power he forced the air out of her lungs.
“Maybe you should go,” she said to Clyde, pushing at Ryske’s locked arm that held her fast. “As you can see, I’m completely safe here.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Clyde muttered.
Something like a growl sounded above her head. Twisting to peek up, she wasn’t surprised to see Ryske’s distaste pinned on Clyde. Too short to make a dent in his view, the top of her head only just reached his chin.
Though she knew she should be more concerned about controlling him, enchantment was never far away when Ryske was close by.
“I’m so used to seeing you lying down that I forgot how tall you are,” she murmured.
His arm tightened around her waist. Her initial resentment for his uninvited embrace was turning into something more primal. “So used to seeing him lying down,” Clyde said, reminding her that she wasn’t actually alone with Ryske. “That tells me all I need to know about your relationship with him. You’re lovers.”
Ryske used the way his arm was coiled around her middle to slide her body behind his back. With a deft move, he’d pulled her one way, side-stepped, and then just slotted her in at his back. Before she’d even realized he’d inverted their positions, Ryske was standing up to Clyde again. “And what the fuck does her pussy mean to you?”
“Crash,” she said, wrapping her arms around his torso, fearing he could fly for Clyde again at any moment. She wouldn’t be able to hold him back on her own, so again, she looked to Dover for support. “Did you get any word on Felipe? If you tell me what you know, Clyde and I can get out of here.”
“You’re going nowhere with this jerkoff,” Ryske said, glowering at Clyde.
“Let’s everybody calm the fuck down,” Dover said and came closer to lay a hand on her shoulder.
Leaping around to swipe it away, Ryske sent a shockwave through their group. Getting defensive with his crew was unheard of. He’d seen his guys kiss her and touch her; he’d never been possessive of her with them.
For some reason, he was so on edge that instinct had made him strike one of his own.
“Okay, someone needs a timeout,” Maze said, leaving his stool to go around everyone. “ ‘Scuse me, Nightingale.”
He eased her aside and grabbed Ryske’s shoulders from behind. Instead of just going with his friend, Ryske yanked himself free of Maze’s grasp. “I’m not leaving Trink out here unprotected.”
“Your trinket will be fine out here,” Maze said, putting an arm around Ryske to grip his opposite shoulder tight. “Anyone touches her and we’ll introduce his insides to the outside.”
The thread of warning in Maze’s voice was ominous. As it was supposed to be. Maze was showing solidarity with Ryske. Letting Clyde know he wasn’t off the hook. If Ryske went over the edge and threw all in to take down Clyde, Harlow would bet that the Floyd’s crew would leap in too. Even if they didn’t agree with him, they had a ‘one in, all in’ kind of strategy.
Getting Ryske out of the bar would diffuse some of the tension, which she needed if she wanted any answers. But, if he didn’t choose to walk out with his friend, she had no idea how far he’d go in resisting his crew.
Dover came to her side. “We’ll keep her safe, man.”
Moving around the bartender, she got close to Ryske. “Crash,” she murmured, picking up his hand and pressing it to her upper chest. “Go with Maze… please, baby.”
She’d never called him that before or referred to him as her boyfriend like Clyde had. Their discussions to date had only included her assertions that she wouldn’t ever be intimate with him.
Yet, something about her words or her proximity did the job. “You don’t leave these premises without my word.”
Nodding, she wanted to find out what had happened to Felipe, and would worry about that before trying to settle the tormented grifter. Sliding his hand higher, he curled his fingers around her throat to squeeze her tighter than he had before.
Of their own volition, her lips parted in a pout. Being in his hold felt so damn good. “Tighter, Crash,” she whispered.
Strengthening his grip, he pulled her to him. Holding her body to his, their mouths hung just an inch apart. “Tease me, Trink.”
Teetering on her tiptoes, she was at his mercy. Yet, somehow, she had all the power. “Later,” she said, slipping her fingers beneath the hem of his tee-shirt to graze her nails over the area of his abdominal tattoo. “Later.”
Maze pulled Ryske from her. Harlow didn’t dare break eye contact. Staring into Crash seemed to distract him from Clyde’s presence. Back in his right mind, at least for that minute, Ryske let Maze draw him away. In the shadow at the end of the bar, the men disappeared.
At her back, Dover was the one to inhale and blow out a breath that ruffled her hair. “Shit, babe, you make him lose his fucking mind.”
“Does he have one to lose?” Clyde piped up. “I’ve never seen a more unreasonable man.”
Whipping around almost in unison, Harlow was alarmed by the glare Dover set on Clyde. “That’s what happens when you move in on another guy’s girl.”
Harlow hadn’t seen Ryske for a month. They’d never had sex. Never kissed. But his crew believed they were together in some way. And, no wonder when Ryske had adopted the role of jealous lover.
As far as she was concerned, after he’d walked out of her apartment, he’d never thought about her again. Showing up at Floyd’s had not been her plan. For the sake of Felipe, Harlow had been willing to take the risk even if it meant Ryske assuming she was using the kid as an excuse to see him.
In a flash, Ryske had changed her mind about him having ideas of unwelcome advances. After what had just happened, Harlow was thinking they’d need to have a conversation about who he was to her and who he wasn’t allowed to punch on her behalf.
In the car in the way over, she’d just been telling Noon that she wouldn’t be coming back because if she did, Ryske might believe she was stalking him. Then, as soon as Crash had seen her, he’d had a crazy irrational reaction like he might be a little unhinged himself.
“Night,” Noon said and it took her a second to realize he was talking to her, shortening her nickname from Nightingale. “Come and finish your drink.”
Holding up her topped off wine, Noon gave her an opening that she welcomed to get things back to a state of normality. She slid onto her stool and took the glass he offered.
“You better be driving me home tonight,” she said, sipping the wine.
Harlow didn’t even have a car and hadn’t driven here, so it was silly to imply that she’d be stranded without Noon’s help. Her apartment wasn’t that far either. If she had to walk it, she could. If that wasn’t an option, she could use a cab… if one would come here to pick her up.
“Are you going home tonight?” Noon asked.
The implication wasn’t ambiguous. If she didn’t go home… The alternative was Ryske’s bed. With the way he’d reacted to Clyde, he’d made it obvious that offer was still on the table.
Taking another drink, she didn’t realize her mind was drifting, but became swept up in what it was to be near to Ryske again… how his grip had felt on her neck… his skin under her nails.
Harlow shivered.
“Yo!”
The exclamation
startled her into turning around. Dover, Clyde, and Noon were all looking at her. With her fingertips stroking her throat and the likelihood of a blush in her cheeks, she doubted it took them long to figure out who she’d been thinking about.
“How long have you been with him?” Clyde asked.
The obvious judgement in his voice was a surprise to her. His profession was the same as hers; they were trained to be neutral or at least to exhibit objectivity. Taking her eyes from Dover to Noon, the pair didn’t seem prepared to bail her out of the conversation.
Projecting her request for them to divert the discussion, she blinked her eyes back to Dover. That was when Noon spoke. “You seem very interested in our girl,” he said. “Why do you care who she’s fucking?”
Apparently, she hadn’t conveyed the message. Noon was taking on Ryske’s mantle while all she wanted was some peace. “No one cares who I’m fucking,” she said and focused on Dover, taking control of the conversation herself. “What did you find out about Felipe?”
“We came through.”
Relief. “Good. I knew you would,” she said, and leaned closer, expecting him to elaborate.
Rather than give her more words, Dover took her hand and led her from her stool.
Snatching for her wine glass, she tried to take a gulp before he took her too far from it. “Bring the wine, babe.”
Not one to refuse, given that she was enjoying the buzz of the alcohol now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Harlow held the glass to her chest and let Dover take her past the other patrons. Winding through the tables, ignoring the faces monitoring their progress, she smiled when the song changed to a tune she loved.
Pulling herself closer to Dover, Harlow was safe in his shadow mouthing the words to the song when they got to the end of the bar. Dover took a right to head down a passageway.
To the immediate right was the open entry to behind the bar, another door on the solid wall further down wasn’t marked. To the left was the men’s room with the powder room next along. It was the door at the head of the passageway, perpendicular to the ladies’ room that they seemed to be heading for.
Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1) Page 13
