That made Parratt incredulous. She wondered if any of these people trusted each other. Though, given how many deceptions she was aware of between them, Harlow thought a little suspicion was healthy.
“And you’re just coming to us with it now?” Parratt asked. “Why the delay?”
“The fucker had his man put a knife in my gut,” Ryske said. “I wasn’t feeling chatty.”
The truth hit Parratt and Yarker who took a few moments to absorb it, though they couldn’t hide how disturbed they were.
“You… you were stabbed?” Parratt asked, then switched to Hagan. “You injured your own colleague?”
Colleagues was an odd title given how much animosity existed between the men.
“He has no evidence of that,” Hagan said, an edge of desperation flavoring his words.
Ryske wasn’t done. He wasn’t going to just let it go, and he shouldn’t either, someone had to answer for what he’d been through. “Want to see the scar?”
“I do,” Ophelia said in sync with the woman at the bar, who said the same thing.
Harlow hadn’t realized the unknown woman was paying such close attention to the proceedings. She hadn’t said a word. Apparently, Ryske’s scar was the catalyst she needed to break her silence.
Ryske ran a hand down the length of Ophelia’s hair and twisted to wink at the woman seated at the bar. “Form a line, ladies.”
That was the line he’d used in the hotel ballroom, she’d guess it was a practiced one. But, given what she’d heard tonight, Harlow began to think maybe it wasn’t only a line, maybe he really would service them if they did just wait their turns.
22
“A scar proves nothing,” Hagan asserted. “You know what kind of man he is. God knows how many wives he’s seduced away from their husbands and how many lowlifes he pisses off every day.”
“I’ve pissed off a bunch of lowlifes and husbands,” Ryske said. “ ‘Cept it doesn’t matter if the scar holds up. You’ve done me a solid and brought me a goddamn witness.”
In all the time they’d been in this room, Ryske hadn’t looked at her let alone spoken to her. Being a rookie, Harlow wasn’t sure when she was supposed to speak up, or if she should wait to be questioned. Ryske’s statement showed his faith that she would back up his story. Showed his faith in her. Which was amazing. Humbling. The last time they’d been alone they’d argued and effectively ended things.
His faith had endured even though she’d shown up with Hagan.
Sure, Harlow knew that her jailor hadn’t won her loyalty, but Ryske had no way to know how she’d ended up at Hagan’s side. Yet, his confidence in her hadn’t wavered.
Hagan’s confidence was misplaced. “Harlow will not—”
“Harlow will,” Ryske said. His position seated in the corner of the couch, angled against the arm, facing away from her meant they couldn’t look at each other. That didn’t matter. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make her shiver. Her Crash was so goddamn sure of her loyalty. “Want me to ask her?”
Without really thinking about it, Harlow abandoned everything at the bar and went around it to cross the room. She could feel Parratt looking at her, Yarker too, and Hagan’s anger was palpable, but she didn’t take her attention away from the back of Ryske’s head.
When Harlow reached him, she didn’t speak, she just slid her hand onto his shoulder, giving him a silent signal that she was there with him. He didn’t turn, and kept one arm around Ophelia, but with the other, he rested his hand over the back of hers on his shoulder.
The level of tension in the room rose. “You… witnessed this?” Yarker asked, leaving a space between his words as he frequently did, making it seem like everything surprised him.
“Harlow knows better,” Hagan said, warning her with a glare. “Do not forget what I said.”
Careful was the last thing she felt with Ryske’s hand on hers. Hagan wanted her to be quiet, but it was beyond time for her to be open with Ryske.
“What? That you’d hurt him again if I didn’t do as you said?” Harlow asked Hagan, which came with the bonus of explaining to Ryske why she was there. “I have done everything you asked. I am here because you demanded I join you.”
Ryske understood what she was doing and ran with it. “Not her fault if it blows up in your face,” he said.
Ophelia bounced to the edge of her seat and twisted around, tossing Ryske’s arm away from her shoulders and pinning a glare on him. “Have you had sex with her? Have you?”
“I think it’s been established that he sleeps with anything in a skirt,” Hagan said.
Ignoring her brother, Ophelia kept her focus trained on Ryske. “Answer me, Ryske.”
The fact that he said nothing was apparently all the answer Ophelia needed. She lunged forward and slapped him hard. Ryske absorbed the hit.
Ophelia got up, and ignoring everyone else in the room, she stormed to the door and slammed out of the room.
“I’ve achieved at least one of my goals,” Hagan said.
Ryske exhaled at the inconvenience or Hagan’s smugness, maybe both. “Separating me from Ophelia?” he asked, following his incredulity with a snicker. “Want to time how long it takes me to get both of them in bed together, doing things to each other and to me that you’ve only seen in the most depraved videos you drool over online?”
“Gentlemen,” Yarker said, a sneer on his face. “We cannot allow our petty grievances to get in the way of the opportunity we have. Is sex going to be what prevents this from happening? Without each other, it’s not possible. Jarvis, you know that we need Ryske. And, Ryske, you know that this chance has only been given to you because of your connections.”
Harlow didn’t know about the opportunity he’d been presented or what might prevent it. She didn’t know what had brought these men together or if Ryske was there for genuine reasons or nefarious ones.
“I know I don’t need to be stabbed,” he said.
“Yes, that is worrying,” Parratt said like he’d been pondering it since he last spoke. The expression he had turned on Hagan was curious too. “I think perhaps we should take this under advisement and meet again in a week.”
This time when Parratt stood up, Yarker did too. “Yes,” he said. “We’ll be in touch.”
Hagan stood up as the men began to move away from him. The woman from the bar scurried across to join them and the trio left the room together. Tense as the air had been before they left, it ratcheted up a thousand percent after everyone else was gone and Harlow was left alone with Hagan and Ryske.
Ryske took his time about getting to his feet. Unsure what move she should make, Harlow was still watching the door that had just closed and didn’t think anything of him rising. Not until his shadow cast over her. He’d put himself in front of her, and was using his form to protect hers, just as he had done in the past.
The whole nature of the meeting and the aura in the room changed. The bullshit was gone. Ryske wasn’t playing affable or even patient anymore. “You’re not leaving with her,” he growled, menace and daring reverberating through him.
Hagan laughed, but it wasn’t in happiness. “I never intended to,” he said, swaggering toward them. “She was a warning. I achieved what I wanted to.”
“Yeah? You wanted Parratt and Yarker to question your sanity?”
“They can do that, I don’t care. I know I have your vote no matter what.”
Ryske didn’t disguise his disgusted amusement. “What happened to make you think you have my loyalty?”
Hagan’s arrogance repulsed her. “That woman, your woman, has been in my house for a week. Trapped. In need. And you didn’t have a goddamn clue.” Slipping something from his pocket, he tossed it onto the couch when he stood behind the furthest arm of it. “You come for me again and I won’t release her next time. I can get to her. Both of you can deny it, but I know that means something. I’ve seen what you’ll do for each other. To hurt you, all I have to do is hurt her.”
“You motherfucker,” Ryske spat and started toward Hagan.
Thinking quickly, Harlow grabbed for his wrist and pulled him back. Rushing around to get in front of him, she pressed her back into Ryske’s torso. “No,” she said. “That’s what he wants. If you hurt him, he’ll have his own evidence to present to Parratt and Yarker.”
“Listen to your woman,” Hagan said, starting for the door. “She’s a smart one… way out of your league.”
The smug smile and swagger that accompanied Hagan’s words seared her, Harlow wasn’t sure she’d ever felt such potent anger. “Go to hell, you bastard.”
“I’ll tell the men you say goodbye, shall I?” he asked. “They will miss watching you shower and dress every day…”
Stunned, Harlow couldn’t believe he’d been spying on her all this time. There was no need for anyone to watch her in the bathroom, she didn’t have access to anything that could hurt anyone. He’d done it, or let his men do it, for the sheer hell of it, much like why he’d had Ryske stabbed.
“You fuck…” Ryske hissed, but she used all her strength to push against his body, holding him back.
Hagan laughed and departed, letting the door swing shut under its own weight.
The moment it was closed, Ryske grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face him. “Crash,” she murmured, grabbing for him.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, checking her face, pushing her hair away to run his hands over her head and neck, then down her body.
There was something frantic about his touch, like he was just desperate to know she was in one piece.
“I’m okay,” she said, trying to slip her hands onto his cheeks, but he took her wrists in turn to squeeze the length of her arms with his strong grip, still checking for injuries. “Oh, Ryske, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”
“No,” he said, snatching her to him, holding her, squeezing her body tight. “I’m sorry. That fucker… He’s right, we didn’t even know—”
“Not that,” she said, putting her hands to his chest to force some space between them.
“Whatever he did to you or had his men do, I—”
“I’m sorry, Crash,” she said, trying to see through the tears that were blurring her eyes. “I’m so sorry for what I said, for how I made you feel. I… I don’t feel that way. I know what kind of man you are. I know you wouldn’t—”
“Shh,” he said and flashed her a dazzling smile. Damn, he was good, he could switch it on, just like that. “It’s forgotten. No idea what you’re talking about.” After a wink, his smile was gone. “Are you hurt?”
“We need to get out of here, Crash.”
Nodding, he pushed her hair from her cheeks with both hands. “Okay, yes.”
Ryske grabbed for her hand, probably to lead her out. Except Harlow didn’t move with him when he tried to head for the door. In answer to his confusion, she scooped her free hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him down, seeking his kiss.
In the first moment of surprise, he was hesitant, making it obvious that he hadn’t been expecting her to do something so intimate. Maybe it was the situation or the environment. She’d guess he was still in work mode, maybe in Ophelia mode, but that wasn’t going to stop her from showing him how she felt or taking what she wanted.
What had happened this week had proved that anything, even the most unthinkable scenario, could happen at any moment. Harlow didn’t want to be separated from him again and didn’t want there to be question marks between them.
“That was nice,” he said when she broke their kiss.
Nice. Hmm. Sounded like he meant it. But he was dubious, and she couldn’t blame him given all the mixed signals she’d sent him. From the early days, she’d wanted him, physically reacted to him, but she’d pushed him away and made demands as soon as he tried to return the favor.
“I don’t want any promises, Crash,” she murmured, splaying her hand on his chest to nestle herself closer. “None except that you’ll come home with me tonight.”
“Hmm,” he said and cleared his throat. “I guess whatever’s in the water at Hagan’s place works for me.” Using his body to push her back, he peeked down his nose at her. “Are you drunk?” Grinning, she shook her head. “Well, baby, much as I’d love to take you up on that, I won’t be going to your place tonight.”
It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might reject her. Yeah, maybe it had been arrogance, or naivety, but she’d really believed he wanted her and that he’d follow through.
“But, I…”
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand again to turn her around.
In a quick maneuver, he swiped something off the couch, presumably whatever Hagan had tossed there, and then led her out of the room. They didn’t go back through the ballroom, they took a different route and ended up in a side alleyway where he presented a motorcycle.
Taking the helmet from the handlebar, he offered it to her. Harlow just blinked. “I… I can’t go on that. I’m in a maxi dress.”
Scanning her figure, he nodded. “I’m not sure what that is, but you look hot.”
“Crash—”
“Lift it up,” he said, tossing a leg over the bike. “Come on. It’s just a quick trip.”
Quicker than it would be in a nice, safe, comfortable car. Mumbling to herself about how crazy this was, Harlow pushed her hair back and pulled on the helmet. Ryske took off his jacket and swept it around her, helping her arms into the sleeves before gathering her skirt and helping her to bunch it up. Using him for balance, she climbed on, and squashed the skirt of her dress between them.
Wrapping her arms tight around him, she tried to see the positive that she was getting to hold Ryske again.
His changing his mind about being intimate with her could spell the end of their friendship. It couldn’t last if she’d made the decision to go all in with him and all he wanted to do was fold and walk away.
Ryske got the bike going and she clung to him tighter as they whizzed through the streets. Hagan thought she was important, Ryske was putting up barriers, and Harlow was confused.
But, she was safe and free, two things she wouldn’t take for granted ever again.
23
Floyd’s was their destination.
Harlow wasn’t surprised to find herself in the alley behind the bar after Ryske parked and helped her off the bike. He took her helmet from her hand and then laced their fingers together. She was still smoothing her hair when he led her around the side of the building, in the opposite direction to the one Noon had taken her. They went into a narrow alley that had a wall at the end. About halfway down, he stopped to unlock a side door and pushed her inside.
In a dark stairwell, her eyes needed a second to adjust to the lack of light before they noticed an internal door opposite them. As Harlow started toward it, Ryske took her waist and swung her left to face the stairs.
“Up,” he said.
“Up?”
She hadn’t expected the redirection but did as told and climbed the stairs. At the top was another door. Ryske came up behind her and leaned past her to open it. Harlow wasn’t sure what she was expecting the upstairs of Floyd’s to look like, so she just waited for it to be revealed.
Walking in to an open plan apartment, a very open plan, very large apartment, she discovered the crew’s home. There was a kitchen in the furthest left corner, that would be above the den she’d found Felipe in the last time she was here. A spiral staircase with a wrought iron bannister led down from the far side of the kitchen. Doing her best to recall the downstairs layout, she guessed those stairs would lead to the curtain Ryske had appeared from in the den.
Next to the kitchen were the only walls in the place, other than those around the stairwell she and Ryske had just come from. They divided off what had to be two rooms because there were two doors.
She didn’t dwell on what could be behind those doors after concluding they wouldn’t be concealing bedrooms. Apparently, privacy was a myth to these me
n. Four double beds were on display in this space, two flanking either side of the stairwell she’d just emerged from. Around each bed were rails with curtains hanging on them, but all of the curtains were pulled back open.
Still taking in the details, she wanted to know where Ryske called home. In front of the kitchen, parallel to the substantial breakfast bar, was a long dining table where the crew must eat their meals. There were couches and arm chairs between that and the two beds to the left. To the other side, was a gym that contained a couple of machines, fully stocked weights racks and benches.
Yeah, this was a guys’ pad.
“You live here?” she asked, though that was kind of obvious.
“We all do,” he replied, pushing her deeper into the apartment. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No,” she said, scrutinizing the place as he crossed it to go into the kitchen. “Shouldn’t you tell someone you’re back?”
“One of the guys will be around soon. They’re always in and out.”
No wonder it had been so easy for her to fall off their radar; they didn’t worry much about each other’s radars either.
“I should call work,” she said and slipped her feet out of her shoes. Though the office would be closed, there were emergency numbers, and voicemail where she could leave a message. “Do you have a phone around here?”
Ryske was on the other side of the wide kitchen breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area. “He had you all week?”
She wasn’t sure if he’d ignored her question because he didn’t want to answer it or if he just hadn’t heard her. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t in the mood to argue.
“Yes,” she said and pointed at the couch. “Can I sit down?”
As always, he was so laid back he was almost horizontal. “Do whatever the hell you want, Trink,” he said, going to the sink to fill two glasses with water. “Let me check a few things out before you call anyone.”
The sink was under the window in the counter that attached to the perpendicular breakfast bar. In the center of the kitchen was a small square island. Another long countertop ran along the opposite wall. At the end of that was the fridge, which stood flanking the opening to the kitchen across from the end of the breakfast bar.
Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1) Page 21
