Go Full Circle (A Go Novel Book 5)

by Scarlett Finn

  Harlow pulled his hand down. “Forget about that, honey. Tell me everything and talk fast. How is everyone? Dover and Maze? Felipe? Is Tiffy huge? Have you seen Costello?”

  “Costello’s been around,” Noon said, squeezing her hands when they both clutched for each other in unison. “Him, Maze, and Ryske are making all these plans for the pool hall… He says I’ll get space, but you know…”

  Hearing something so normal—that life was going on—warmed her. It gave her optimism to know that her home was safe. That was more of a comfort than she’d realized it would be.

  “What about Felipe? Is he behaving himself?”

  “I don’t know,” Noon said, side-nodding. “Dover had to go pick him up across the neighborhood. He’d been fighting. I don’t know what it was about. He’s not saying much.”

  Her positivity faded. “Did Ryske talk to him?”

  Noon shook his head. “He’s been… in and out a lot.” She hoped that his fighting wasn’t encouraging the youngster to go out and emulate him. “Dover’s got Felipe though; he’s had him doing more work around the bar. Cleaning up, painting, you know. He said if the kid’s so desperate to do something with his hands that there’s always chores to do… I think Martina is worried, you know? She doesn’t want him getting into the gangs and if he starts fighting, it could provoke Pablo.”

  “Is he coming home?”

  Noon shrugged. “Don’t know. She doesn’t really talk to us about that shit.”

  And being guys, they probably didn’t think to ask. They wouldn’t want to intrude on the woman’s personal life. Since Harlow had hired her, Martina had been a staple around the bar. After the guys had come back from Anwen’s, she’d only taken the occasional shift. Though, of course, the fire had put a stop to anyone earning money there.

  Except Harlow’s information was out of date. Progress must have been made in the renovations since she’d last been home.

  “Are you open?” she asked, hoping that Floyd’s was making money again. She would be a little disappointed to learn she’d missed opening night.

  “Not yet.”

  Whatever the hold up, she didn’t have time to get into the details. “Listen, you need to ask Ryske to talk to Felipe. He’s not the best role model right now, and I’m sorry that he’s being… difficult. I know if he’s going out to look for fights in the street that he’s gone through all of you trying to find one at home.”

  The heat in her eyes was threatening to become tears. Restraining them, she stopped talking and instead stroked his face.

  “We miss you,” Noon said. Keeping her lips sealed, she nodded. “We all do. You know he’s only like this because he wants you back home… We all want you back home.”

  “I miss all of you too.” The way Noon’s gaze dropped raised her concern. “What?”

  “He’s drinking,” Noon mumbled like maybe he was revealing a secret he shouldn’t be sharing. His tentative eyes met hers through the shadow of the darkened car. “A lot.”

  Ryske had never shied from having a drink; he wasn’t teetotal. But he didn’t get drunk. Ever. Even though he’d never put words to his reasoning, she knew it was because of his father. Being drunk reminded him of his heritage. He didn’t advertise it, but there was a part of him that resented any notion he was like his father or could become like him.

  “He gets drunk before he goes out to fight?” she asked.

  Noon nodded. “Usually. He’s making enemies, Har. Enemies we don’t know… The neighborhood is looking out for him. Our people know to let him be or bring him home. But if he screws with the wrong person…”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” she said, letting her attention drift toward the windshield. “He could get himself killed.”

  Noon was quick to defend his friend. “I don’t think he wants to really hurt anyone.”

  Harlow didn’t need anyone to justify what Ryske was doing, or to tell her what kind of man he was. “No, he wants to hurt himself,” she murmured. “Intentions don’t stop accidents from happening.”

  “Yeah, and if he does hurt someone and gets himself arrested…”

  Like the evidence room guard. No one had meant to kill him. No one had even been fighting him when he fell and hit his head, which ultimately caused his death. But the crime spawned the tragedy. The death would not have happened had the men not gone in to raid the locker, which they only did because of her.

  Ryske could find himself in a similar position since she doubted he knew anything about the people he started the fights with. Someone could have a medical condition or an existing injury. If the person he confronted had alcohol in their system, they could be sloppy and uncoordinated. All sorts of things could go wrong.

  She did not want Ryske in jail for stupidity. Harlow didn’t want him in jail at all, but that one would be a particularly tough pill to swallow.

  If he wasn’t listening to those at home, and she wasn’t there to get through to him, there was only one other person she trusted to handle Ryske.

  “Bale has to talk to him,” she said, hoping the honorary crew member would be able to break through to his brother.

  Harlow wished that she could be more helpful. Chances were that although she was being granted permission to attend Windsor’s, Ophelia still wouldn’t give her the opportunity to be alone with Ryske. His room was private. Ophelia would probably have someone watching it like a hawk to make sure Harlow didn’t attempt to go in… There was a bed in there after all.

  Noon scoffed. “Ryske’s at his place all the time. Who do you think checks out the bruises and the cuts? The doc thought he had internal bleeding a couple of weeks ago, thought he’d cracked a rib. Ryske didn’t give a shit, wouldn’t go to the hospital.”

  The idiot. Now she wanted to smack him. If he wanted a fight, she’d step up to the plate. What did he think was the point of getting himself hurt? She’d have no one to go home to if he died for being a fool.

  This was another subject that she had more to say on, but the flash of headlights out front reminded Harlow of the need for urgency. Sitting out there was risky; anyone could see her with Noon and report back to Ophelia.

  “I know that I don’t know what’s going on at home,” she said. “You’ve no idea how sorry I am that I can’t be there to share some of the burden.”

  “We know why you’re not, Nightingale. We understand… We just wish there was something we could do to, you know, get you the hell out of there. It must be a fucking nightmare.”

  “There’s less Chinese food and definitely less fun,” she said, trying her best to project confidence. “There is one thing you can do. I can’t go into details, and I don’t know what ops you’re running, but I need you to talk to the guys about something for me. You need to be subtle, figure out how to be discreet.”

  Concern creased his brow. “About what?”

  “I want Anwen out,” she said. “I don’t want her in the apartment anymore.”

  He considered her for a second, maybe trying to figure out her thinking. “He’s not having sex with her… I know it can’t be easy to know that his ex is living with us. But, as far as I know, he hasn’t touched her. He might be acting crazy, but he’d give up his life before he’d hurt you like that. You think me and the guys would let him fuck up his relationship with you?”

  “Technically,” she said, watching her fingers move through his. “We’re not in a relationship right now.”

  “You’re not?” She shook her head. “With you guys, it’s tough to keep up.” Harlow understood that and stroked the back of his hand, appreciating being near a friend she valued so much. “You do… you do still love him though, right?”

  Inhaling, she smacked his shoulder with the heel of her hand. “I love him less when he’s an idiot,” she said, knowing she had to leave Noon even though it pained her. “You can remind him of that when he’s getting himself drunk. Remind him I could walk back in any second and I want his equipment to be functional at all times, just
in case I need it. If it’s drunk, it’s useless to me.” Noon laughed. She popped open her door but leaned back over the center console to kiss him. “I love you too, Noon, and all the guys. Remind them of that, will you, please?”

  He pulled her into a hug. It couldn’t last. They had to let each other go. It was tempting to tell him to throw the car in drive and go. She could make a break for it. Penzance would probably cover as long as he could, and Ryske wouldn’t force her to go back to Ophelia if she thought she was done.

  But Harlow wasn’t done and that meant going inside.

  8

  Penzance took her through the side door and up the stairs. There were guys just inside, guarding the entrance, but they didn’t stop them from going up.

  Harlow was surprised by how busy the main floor of Windsor’s was. Business had picked up, but this was the first time she’d seen it with her own eyes. Every table was occupied. The bar was crowded and there were many more women scattered around the room, with men who she assumed were clients.

  “You okay?” Penzance asked, laying a hand on her back.

  He probably didn’t know why she’d stopped dead without saying a word. She was just taking it all in. This operation had been in its infancy when she was last there a month ago. Now, it looked like a well-oiled, and successful, machine.

  “Yeah,” she said, scanning toward the bar, trying to identify who was there and where her boss might be.

  Her gaze snagged on someone standing behind a patron watching a card game. Though he’d been intent on what he was watching, something made him look up, right at her.

  Harlow started to move at the same time he did. This was a riskier meeting than the one she’d had downstairs, but if he was coming to her, she wasn’t going to hesitate to meet him in the middle.

  “Maze,” she breathed out and leaped up into his arms.

  He took her off the floor, straightening up, so her feet dangled. She trusted him to look after her. Harlow had thought about Ryske on the ride over because she had a better idea of what to expect from him. Chances were high that he’d ignore her like he’d done at Ophelia’s apartment.

  Whether it was part of the plan or not, Harlow was gratified to be welcomed by her crew. “God, babe,” Maze said, cupping her face and pressing his mouth to the side of her head. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  Her eyes warmed again and she squeezed them shut, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I missed you,” she inhaled, her voice hardly a whisper.

  Maze held her tighter. “Come home, babe,” he said, putting her back on her feet and pushing her hair away from her face to inspect her. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” she said, trying to push his hands away. “Nothing. Never mind that.”

  His concern didn’t subside. “Noticed Brash has stitches,” he said. Harlow hitched her chin higher; she wasn’t going to apologize for defending herself. To her surprise, he breathed out a laugh and smiled. Pulling her up, he bowed to press his mouth to her forehead. “Good girl. You give ‘em hell, baby.”

  “I’m sorry he’s been so difficult,” she said while Maze’s mouth was still on her. “I’m sorry you’re going through this with him.”

  Leaning back, he met her eye. The heels of his hands stayed on her temples; his fingers in her hair. “What about what you’re going through? If you come back from this broken, he’ll never be the same. He’ll never get over it.”

  “And if he gets himself killed out on the streets?” she asked. “How could you let him go out there?”

  “What do you want us to do? Tie him up?”

  Harlow crooked a brow thinking that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “If you need my permission to chain him to the wall for his own safety, you have it. You tell him I told you to do it. You tell him I’ll kick his goddamn ass if he rejects Bale’s advice again… If he wants to be an asshole, that’s fine by me. But you make sure he knows that for every punch he throws at someone else, he better be willing to land one on me too because that’s what it does to me when he hurts himself.”

  An angry tear slipped from her eye. Seeing Maze soften at the sight of it only pissed her off more. She hated herself for getting upset. Shoving away from his grip, Harlow swiped the tear away.

  “Come home, Nightingale,” he beseeched her. “Come home to us… You can go right now. Noon’s outside. Tell him to take you away from here. Tell him to just drive… We’ll find you. Just get away from here.”

  Harlow shook her head. “I stand with my crew.”

  He grazed the pad of his thumb across the sensitive bruise on her cheek. If she’d been smart, she’d have put more concealer on. Harlow had been so excited to get out of the apartment that she hadn’t been thinking straight.

  Ducking her head out of his hand, she lowered her chin.

  “You think seeing this will make him calmer?” Maze asked, edging closer and curling a hand around the back of her neck.

  She shook her head. “I won’t be allowed to see him… She won’t let me see him and he can’t want to either. He’s supposed to have lost interest in me.”

  Grinding his teeth in a display of rage, Maze made it clear that Ryske wasn’t the only one struggling with the situation.

  Sliding her hands onto his chest, she moved against him, trying to offer comfort. “This was how it was supposed to be. We knew it would be like this. The only difference to the original plan is that it’s me instead of him. Yes, it’s difficult sometimes. But I’m grateful it worked out this way.” That confession startled him, but probably not as much as the smile she followed it with. “I can handle being the one more than I could ever handle having him with her.”

  “You don’t know what this is doing to him.”

  “Don’t I?” she asked. “Being apart. Being unable to do anything about it? Wishing something would change so we could touch each other again?” Shaking her head, she almost laughed. “The only difference between this and the first time I went through it is our roles are reversed. At least he knows I’m not dead… We lived through jail. We can live through this.”

  “They’re not out for your blood in jail.”

  Harlow smiled “I can tell you’ve never been to jail,” she said, but he wasn’t in the mood to tease.

  Someone bumped her shoulder and she turned to see Penzance was backing up against her. “Ease up,” he murmured.

  Ophelia was barreling toward them. Moving through clients at such a rate that she was almost knocking them aside, Ophelia was blinkered. Harlow’s hands slid down as she tried to back away, but Maze put both arms around her, preventing her from going anywhere.

  “Don’t you fucking think about it,” Maze said, tightening his hold.

  Ophelia didn’t love Maze, but she wouldn’t like Harlow acting without her approval. Still, Harlow wasn’t going to fight him. Sliding her arms around his waist, she let herself enjoy these few moments of comfort while she could.

  “You’re here for a purpose,” Ophelia snapped before she’d even reached them. “And it’s not that… Is he paying for that privilege?”

  Acting on instinct, Maze turned toward Ophelia, and pushed Harlow behind him. “You even think about putting her on her back and I’ll take you out myself.”

  “Well, well,” Ophelia said, joining them. “Wonder what your friend would think about that?”

  “I don’t give a damn what he thinks. Man’s a fucking asshole.”

  So, Maze understood that there was a plan. Ryske had to be over her. Harlow was sorry she’d missed the discussion where the guys had come to that conclusion. She’d figured out that her crew had decided it was best for him to act like she was invisible; it explained the way he’d been at Ophelia’s.

  Harlow was no idiot and knew the golden rule: go with it. So, when she’d realized he was playing up his interest in Ophelia and down his interest in her, she hadn’t panicked that anything major had changed. Ryske was doing it because he thought it would make things better for her.

  Seei
ng it in action with her guys was another thing. It felt like a real choreographed op. They’d made a plan. Her crew had made a plan meant to insulate and protect her even when they couldn’t be in her company to shield her body.

  “If you have no loyalty to him, you can’t have any to her,” Ophelia said and tried to reach around him.

  Maze blocked her. He wanted to protect her. Whether it was part of the plan or not, he didn’t want to move out of Ophelia’s way.

  “Babe,” Harlow said, resting a soothing hand on his arm, trying to ease him aside, except he wouldn’t relax. “We don’t want a scene here.”

  It would be catastrophic if Maze started something. For one thing, Ophelia had security at the club. Brash and Animal would probably be in the building. If she ordered them to take Maze down, Harlow would fight to the last with him and scream bloody murder until Ryske came out to stand with them; plan be damned.

  But they didn’t want that; they wanted to keep their cool. Maze must have come to the same conclusion because although she could sense that he was still tense, he breathed out and let himself be moved.

  It was aggravating to see Ophelia’s triumph. “Strange man,” she muttered and looped an arm through Harlow’s to lead her away from Maze and Penzance.

  Harlow didn’t dare let herself turn around. If Maze thought for a second that she was asking for help or needed him to follow, he could change his mind about giving Ophelia what she wanted.

  Though, that subject was a little hazy to her at the moment. “What do you want, Ophe?” Harlow asked. “You said I was here for a purpose.”

  “Yes,” she said, pulling her closer. “I want you to take a position over here.”

  “Over here” seemed to be one of the private rooms. Two down from the one she’d known Ryske to be in before. Harlow didn’t fixate on his room for long. The last thing she wanted was Ophelia to note her interest.

  “I’m not a prostitute, Ophelia,” Harlow said when Ophelia opened the bedroom door and moved them inside, past the restroom.