Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1)

by Scarlett Finn

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Come on,” he said, putting an arm around her to guide her in the direction of Floyd’s again.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to make sure you’re safe,” he said. “We can’t split our resources. You’ll have to stay at Floyd’s until this is over—”

  “Maze,” she said, shrugging his arm away. “I can’t. I’m done making a fool of myself with him.”

  “You won’t,” he said, holding up both hands to soothe her. “This will only be for another day or two. Ryske will make it clear to Hagan at the meet tomorrow that you’re a non-factor.”

  That didn’t do much for her ego. Harlow folded her arms. “How will he do that?”

  For just a second, he was at a loss. “I don’t know,” he said and hazarded a possibility. “He’ll propose to Ophelia or something. Yeah. That will work. She’ll play along and it will get us a step closer to our goal, Ophelia too.”

  The way to save herself was to let the man who’d entranced her betroth himself to another woman? The situation just kept getting more complicated. Harlow didn’t know how they all kept up with the twists and turns of the job.

  Maze put his arm around her to start them walking again.

  This time, she didn’t resist. Making the crew’s life more difficult wasn’t going to help anyone. “I won’t sleep with him again.”

  “You won’t have to,” he said. “If he won’t give up his bed to you, you can have mine.”

  Harlow didn’t want to go back to Floyd’s, but returning to her parents wasn’t an attractive prospect either. In a way, it was impressive just how big a mess she could make of her life in such a short time. Harlow might not be a pro in Ryske’s eyes, but she was in hers. Except, being a professional screw up was nothing to be proud of.

  34

  Ryske hadn’t even been there when they got back to Floyd’s. Maze had walked Harlow back upstairs to the apartment, made her promise not to leave again, and then he’d gone back to work.

  Her tantrum might have seemed juvenile, but she had fully intended to walk away for good. Their lives would be a lot easier if they didn’t have her to worry about. Distracting Maze from his job was unfair too. Chaos seemed to be encroaching on Harlow from all sides. Everything was telling her she wasn’t cut out for life with Ryske.

  His crew needed to maintain a level head. They had to put their own feelings aside when there was an event or a job because they relied on each other. Even when they were mad, they’d still give their lives for each other. Keeping her feelings in check around Ryske wasn’t her specialty.

  Making a decision to stay out of the way, Harlow slept on the closet couch and no one disturbed her. Even in the morning, none of the guys came into the closet, not that she was aware of. Either they’d snuck in to dress before she was awake or they had grabbed whatever was in the downstairs laundry.

  Proving that they were ready to be rid of her, no one was in the apartment when she crept out of the closet in the morning. There had obviously been an agreement that they give her a wide berth until they could get rid of her.

  Harlow didn’t see anyone at all until the Saturday night. Studying at the cleared desk in the closet, she was keeping a low profile.

  But, this was a public space and she couldn’t expect to be alone forever, as proved when Ryske came in wearing a towel, much as he had the previous night. His modesty hadn’t increased just because they were at odds.

  Making eye contact, they paused. “I’ll give you your privacy,” she said, closing her book and tucking it under her arm as she stood up.

  Ryske walked in the direction of the dressers. She headed for the door.

  “Maze is wrong,” he said, just before she got to the exit.

  The statement made her face him. He had his back to her and was taking underwear from the drawer that he proceeded to pull on.

  “Wrong about what?”

  “About where you should be,” he said, going to a rail in the corner to begin donning a suit. “Your ex didn’t make you happy, but he didn’t make you unsafe. One’s more important than the other.”

  “You think I should go back to Rupert,” she stated, folding her arms around her textbook.

  Putting on his pants, he didn’t fasten them, and took a shirt from a hanger. Threading one arm into a sleeve and then the other, she was disappointed in herself for noticing that he was covering up the impressive body he’d once let her play with.

  “You dumped him, not the other way around,” Ryske said. “You were together for years and have been broken up for months. But he’s not hooking up with anyone else… Noon was right, he’s hung up on you. Your ex will take you back.”

  Hugging the book tighter to her chest, she tilted her head. “And that’s what you want because that’s what will get me off your plate.”

  “That’s not what I said. With you, I say what I mean. He’ll keep you safe. You’ll be content.”

  “But not happy,” she said, watching him continue to dress. “And what about you? What will you do?”

  “Go with it,” he said, seeking cufflinks. “It’s what us on this side of town do.”

  “Go with it.”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  This seemed like just another day at the office. Ryske was so unfazed that if it wasn’t so heart wrenching, she might appreciate the insight into his inner self. All of this was happening, but he took it in his stride. Reading a situation, adjusting, and making a strategy. Planning her future was a single step in a mission that he’d probably never think about again after she was gone.

  Even knowing that this was when she was supposed to turn and walk away, Harlow was too intrigued to just let it go.

  Instead of departing, she took a step toward him. “Did you ever feel anything for me? Anything at all?”

  “Trink, I care about you, but—”

  “No,” she said, tossing the book onto the couch. “Don’t use that patronizing appeasement voice with me. Don’t switch it on and think you can soothe me. Just look me in the eye and tell me the goddamn truth. Did you ever feel anything for me?”

  The situation made her angry and that pounding emotion was made worse when something like pain appeared in his gaze. “Baby, I have nothing to offer you.”

  That stark truth took her anger. “I didn’t want anything,” she said, touched by his sincerity. “Nothing but you.”

  Clenching his teeth, he garnered some anger of his own. “I won’t do it to you. I won’t drag you down to my level. You don’t belong with the scum in the gutter. You should be soaring with the birds, Nightingale.”

  But she couldn’t claim to be Nightingale, not if she was being cast out of the crew. Reality caught up with her. Maze’s suggestion was no longer a distant prospect, it was coming to pass. The suit, the cufflinks, Ryske was going out, somewhere nice… he was making an effort with the goal of keeping her safe.

  “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” she said, suddenly cold. “You’re going to propose to her.”

  As was his way with awkward questions, he avoided giving her a direct answer. “I’m going to make Hagan see that you are inconsequential. You won’t be in danger after tonight.”

  Narrowing what was left of the physical space between them to rest her hand on his chest, she made eye contact. “And am I?” she asked. “Inconsequential?”

  Laying his hand over hers as he had once before, he pressed her palm into him. “That will never belong to anyone else.”

  Even in spite of their argument the previous night, she wanted to believe him. “Crash—”

  “We’re through, Harlow,” he said, losing his patience. “You’re going back to your safe, mundane existence in the suburbs. You will never be hurt by my world again.”

  Hitching her chin up, she slid her hand out from under his. “And if I say I won’t go?”

  “Why wouldn’t you go?” he asked, taking a jacket and tie from the rack. “The city ate yo
u up and spat you out. You weren’t built for the wrong site of the tracks, babydoll.” He winked and flashed her his dashing, professional smile. “Time to tuck that tail and go home. There’s nothing left for you here.”

  Pushing her buttons was so easy for him. Maybe he didn’t realize that provoking her only fired her determination. The trouble was… he was right. Everything he’d said was true.

  Ryske went past her to head out of the closet and off to his meeting with Hagan. All she could do was stumble backwards until the couch caught her.

  Harlow was going home. The adventure was over.

  35

  An hour or so after Ryske had left, Harlow heard Felipe shouting up the spiral stairs. The youngster called her name, so she quickly finished applying her lip gloss and tossed the tube aside before heading toward his voice.

  Telling herself to be confident and optimistic, she ran down the stairs, brushing a hand across Felipe’s cheek as she passed him to float across the den.

  “Someone’s here for you,” Felipe said.

  Harlow hadn’t so much as paused and twirled to face him as she opened the den door. “I know, honey.”

  “Dover doesn’t look happy.”

  Peeking around the den door, her grin grew cheerier. “Do I look like I give a crap?”

  If she was stuck in Floyd’s until Ryske finished weaving his magic, then her only option was to see her friends there. Dover didn’t have to like the people she socialized with, but he did have to bite his tongue, just like he had when Hagan sent his men in to spy.

  Harlow flounced into the bar. She wasn’t working tonight; no point when she was going to be kicked out as soon as the crew could get away with ousting her. All that was left was for her to say goodbye to the friends she had made in the city. In honor of her forced farewell, she’d snagged her clean cellphone from the closet desk and made plans. No one had told her that she couldn’t invite people to drink with her.

  Rounding the bar on the patrons’ side, Harlow wasn’t surprised to find that Clyde was nervous. Seated on the stool he’d occupied the last time he was there, he was looking left and right, vigilant, probably because he’d been caught so unawares the last time.

  Reaching her friend, she put a hand on Clyde’s shoulder to lean in and kiss his cheek. “He’s not here,” she said.

  Clyde blinked, probably surprised by her familiarity, but he didn’t say anything. Harlow leaned over the bar to wave at Dover’s bartender, Lowan, and ordered them some drinks.

  “He… he’s not here?” Clyde asked. She shook her head, seating herself on the stool next to his. “Why did you call me?”

  The only reason she’d been able to call Clyde was because Ryske had revealed his last name, which let her look him up.

  “I’m heading out of town tomorrow,” she said. “I emailed my notice to Gina.”

  Harlow hadn’t been in the office for weeks, so she doubted her resignation was any surprise to her former boss.

  It was more of a shock to Clyde. “You… why?”

  Lowan brought over their drinks and didn’t even try to ask for payment. Grabbing the glass, Harlow began to gulp down the alcohol. Having already destroyed half a bottle of wine upstairs, her reserve was long gone.

  “That’s part of the reason I called you,” she said, touching her moist lip. “A friend of mine found out Gina has done quite a few favors for a specific guy who gives a lot of money to the department… the favors aren’t always in our clients’ interest… or in the employees’ interest. I wanted to tell you to watch your back.”

  Dover’s voice came from behind her. “Can I talk to you?”

  Framing his words as a question seemed ridiculous given that at the same time he said them, he grabbed her elbow and hauled her off her stool. Harlow barely had time to put down her glass before she was being dragged away from Clyde.

  About ten feet from the bar, Dover stopped and whirled her around to face him.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, picking lint from Dover’s sleeve.

  “Are you nuts?” he hissed. “What’s this asshole doing here? Ryske is going to—”

  “Do nothing,” she said. “Because by the time he’s back Clyde will be gone. Besides, he and I talked and agreed we’re through, so it’s all good.”

  She patted his chest and tried to go back to Clyde, but Dover caught her arm to pull her back again. “You’re through?”

  Smiling, she nodded. The last thing she needed to do was show the melancholy that was tearing her apart. Instead, Harlow chose to stick with blind optimism. “After tonight you’ll be free of me forever. I’m going back home. I wanted to say goodbye to the closest thing I had to a friend in the city. I don’t think that’s wrong. I want to say goodbye to Bale too… maybe I’ll write him a letter.”

  Dover seemed stunned for a moment, but pulled himself together. “Well, you’re, uh… you’re in luck. He got back into town last night. He’s coming over later.”

  “Excellent,” she said, patting him again. “Perfect.”

  Inviting Clyde for a drink wasn’t meant to lead to a night of partying. Saying goodbye, and delivering the warning about Gina, were her motivations. This wasn’t game playing. After going back to her parents’ home the following day, she’d never have any reason to see Clyde again.

  She’d never see any of them again.

  Dover didn’t stop her again. Harlow went back to the bar and got another drink for herself and for Clyde. Her ex-colleague needed the courage even in spite of her constant reassurance that Ryske wasn’t around and wouldn’t be bursting in to beat him up. After maybe the twentieth time of reiterating that she and Ryske were no longer an item, Clyde began to relax, and they finally had a chance to talk.

  She didn’t even notice the hours passing and lost track of how many glasses of wine she’d had. With nothing but the prospect of tension and grief ahead of her, the escape into this temporary fun was welcome.

  Harlow’s night got better when someone touched her waist. Turning to see who was there, she found herself in the half-embrace of a familiar man.

  “Bale!” she exclaimed putting down her glass to leap into his arms. “Oh, I missed you! Where have you been, Doctor Urban?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said, keeping an arm around her. “Who’s your friend?”

  “An ex-colleague,” she said, picking up her wine again. “I quit my job.”

  With his fingertips, he gathered her hair from her temple to tuck it behind her ear. “I know, I’ve been talking to Dover… do I need to order a psych exam? I thought you loved your job.”

  “I did, until I realized it was a crock of shit.” Tipping her head back, Harlow finished her wine and pushed the glass over the bar. “Nobody’s who they say they are. Have you noticed that? How people are just bone-deep liars? Men and women alike. Everyone’s out for themselves… Men are real bastards… Fucking bastards.”

  “Okay, I think that’s enough liquor for you, lady,” Bale said, shaking his head at Lowan.

  She pouted at him. “You are a party pooper. I was so desperate to see you before I left… now I think you should go back to your conversation with Dover.”

  “I think you should tell me what Ryske did to upset you,” Bale said.

  Tutting, and sagging to the side, she noticed how Clyde paled at the mention of the person she’d worked hard to expel from their discussions. “Why is everything about that bastard? Can’t I just be drunk because I’m drunk and not because he stole my heart and stomped all over it?” Smacking a hand on the bar, she twisted out of Bale’s arms in her attempt to seek out the bartender. “I need more alcohol, Lowan!”

  “No, you don’t,” Bale said.

  The bartender, Lowan, was standing at the curve of the bar doing his best not to look in her direction, which was an obvious ploy because she was being loud enough that everyone else was looking at her.

  “What am I doing?” she said, realizing her error. “I don’t need your permission. I don�
��t need anyone’s damn permission! I know where the alcohol is. What is Dover going to do if I help myself? Call the cops?” Spitting out a laugh, she slunk out from between Bale and the bar. Taking a moment to wobble on her shaky legs, Harlow slapped at both Clyde and Bale as they tried to steady her. “I don’t need help. Leave me. Leave me!”

  After they let her go, she immediately lost her balance and stumbled to the side. She might have hit the floor if someone else hadn’t caught her.

  When she blinked up at the face belonging to the arms around her that had prevented her fall, Harlow went from grateful to resentful in a heartbeat. “Oh look,” she sneered. “It’s the man who gets the trophy for it.”

  “It?” Ryske asked.

  “Leaving me,” she said and shoved at him to get out of his arms. “I don’t need your damn help either.”

  Holding onto Bale for balance, she dipped down to pull off one heel and then the other. Her legs might be shaky, but steadying herself would be easier without the shoes.

  “She’s drunk,” Ryske muttered, making eye contact with the doctor behind her.

  She raised a spike heel to wave it in his face. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk about me as though I’m not here. In twenty-four hours you’ll have your wish and I’ll be gone forever, then all of you can erase me from your memories…”

  Bale’s hand closed over the back of hers to remove the shoe from her grip. “You’re going to take his eye out with that thing.”

  “He doesn’t need his eyes,” she grumbled. “Long as his dick works, he’ll be just fine.” Bale took both shoes from her, but she didn’t care, Harlow was too busy glaring at Ryske who she hadn’t expected to see so soon. Not given what he was supposed to be doing. Raising both arms, she pasted on a wide smile. “And congratulations are in order, everyone! One of our very own has chosen to sacrifice his freedom for love! Yes, he’s engaged!” Those in the vicinity clapped or jeered, and she slapped Ryske’s arm. “I can’t ask to look at the ring. I don’t know what you’re supposed to say to a newly engaged man, so congratulations will have to do.”