“Are you asking if it’s better to be sleeping with a patient or your brother’s wife?” she asked and patted his chest, backing off. “It’s fine. As soon as I get my hands on Ryske again, I promise to bring him here and we’ll get caught doing it in a supply closet or something.”
“Great, thanks,” he said. “So, you’re my sister-in-law patient who screws corpses?”
A laugh burst from her; she gave him a light push. “That’s me… Don’t forget, I’m a druggie too.”
Taking his hands, she pulled him toward the door.
“Right,” he said. “No, you wait here. What do you need?”
“Something tasteless. Enough for a woman.”
“Ophelia?” he asked. Harlow hesitated, not because she didn’t trust him, but because like with Clyde, she always wanted to insulate Bale as much as she could. “I need an approximate weight to give the right dose.”
She nodded. “And one for Brash too… just in case.”
Curling a finger under her jaw, he raised her face and grazed the bruise on it. “He give you that?”
“He did, so, you know, just in case.”
He kissed her head. “You got it. Wait here, babe.”
Doing as she was told, Harlow wasn’t going to go anywhere. Waiting in one spot without peril loitering at every door made her edgy. Pacing, she was about to touch the steel unit by the door when she withdrew her finger, thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave fingerprints.
Smiling, she wasn’t sure if it was Ryske or jail that had conditioned her. One of them had certainly managed it.
She was restless by the time he came back. Rushing to him, Harlow only stopped when he raised two little white packs.
“O and B,” he said, showing her the faint initials in the corners of the packs. She was about to take them when he whipped them away. “Don’t mix them up.”
“Promise,” she said and took them, holding onto his arm to pick up her leg so she could slip the papers into her shoe.
“Be careful, Har.”
Curling a hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him quick. “Always. Thanks, doc… You never saw me, okay?”
He was smiling when she winked, probably because it was his brother’s move.
She dashed from the room before he could give her the after-school special. Harlow didn’t need the moral of the story. Ryske preferred it if she ignored the morals in favor of what needed to be done.
15
Noon’s car hadn’t moved. Not until she got in; he started driving before she’d even closed the door.
Penzance rose from his bored slouch and poked his head between the seats. “We going back now?”
“Not yet,” Harlow said, touching Noon’s arm. “Will you take me to the gym?”
Their driver nodded once. Penzance slanted deeper into the front. “Are you shitting me? The gym? What the hell?”
“You got it,” Noon said.
His love of driving and all things cars made Noon the natural choice for the job of being the crew’s driver. He never complained, never questioned, never second guessed. She liked to think his silent faith was an indication of his unwavering trust in her. There was probably an element of that. But it was more likely because other people on the crew were much better at interrogation.
They drove the long way round, avoiding Floyd’s though she didn’t know if that was for her benefit or for Penzance’s. It could just be that Noon liked driving so much that he couldn’t help himself.
The street outside the gym was empty, so Noon had no problem parking.
Turning toward the interior, Harlow opened her mouth, but it was Penzance’s voice that filled the cabin.
“Yeah, yeah, we know: wait here,” he said, and dropped into a slump against the backseat. “For the record, this is the shittiest date I have ever been on.”
“No!” Harlow protested and hooked both hands over each other on the shoulder of her seat to prop her chin on them. “The shit part comes later when you realize you won’t get laid.”
Noon was still laughing when she jumped out of the car and ran up the metal staircase that led to a second floor door.
Knocking, she waited, and hoped that her friend was home. A minute later, there was a clunk on the other side of the door. It swung open a few inches to reveal Costello in his underwear.
It wasn’t until she noted his heavy eyes and mussed hair that she remembered how late it was.
Her gasp of apology was masked by his one of surprise. “Harlow,” he said, opening the door further and grabbing her shoulder to drag her inside. “Shit, I didn’t expect you…”
Flicking on the light, he illuminated the small landing they were standing on. They were at the top of the stairs that led down to the gym. His apartment door was opposite the external one.
As he turned back toward her, the first thing he noticed was the bruise on her cheek. Frowning, he tipped her face toward the bare lightbulb above them.
“Don’t overreact,” she said.
“Ryske need a posse?” he asked. “Let me grab some clothes.”
He started to turn, but she grabbed his forearm to stall him. It took her a minute to speak after he looked at her again.
“You’re not going to ask if it was him?”
His smile was brief. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “I’ve seen that man as mad as a guy can be. I’ve seen him that angry at you… and at me. You didn’t even blink. I know you. I taught you to be braced and prepared at all times… You’ve got no guard with Ryske. None. Even when he’s mad as hell.”
The men in her life wanted to overwhelm her or that was how it felt. The fact that Costello had such faith in Ryske, and in her trust in her man, was touching.
“I need your help,” she said. “But not for this.”
Bobbing his head in understanding, he examined her for a few seconds, probably trying to figure out just how much trouble she was in.
He side-nodded. “Come through.”
Pushing open the apartment door, he took her inside the living room that sort of felt a bit like a stoner house, though Costello didn’t smoke. It was messy. All the furniture was mismatched and old. But Costello cared about other things, like fitness. Decor wasn’t high on his priority list.
He went over to the kitchen that was really just a bunch of units against the far wall to pull out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses.
Harlow dropped onto the couch. Even though her night wasn’t over, she was sort of tempted just to lie down and go to sleep. This was the most activity she’d had in weeks.
Costello brought over the glasses and gave her one. They raised a silent toast and drank. Figuring that Ophelia had sent her out to drink anyway, she’d be allowed to partake. Not that Harlow would ever worry about asking permission.
Harlow swallowed the liquor and then cupped the glass on her knee. Sensing that her friend wasn’t going to say anything, she knew he was waiting for her to talk. Costello had infinite patience, which was probably why he was the best man to do what she was about to ask him to do.
She made herself talk. The situation wouldn’t explain itself.
“I shouldn’t really be here, so… you know, if anyone asks—”
“Harlow,” he said, basically telling her to spit it out.
“You’ve heard about Ryske?” she asked, stealing a glance at him. “About his mood.”
“You mean how he’s going around beating people up,” Costello said. “Sure. Heard he was doing some enforcing… not something I knew he was into, but he’s capable.”
Oh, she fumed, fearing steam might stream from her ears. The bastard hadn’t said anything about organized fighting. That was worse. Spontaneous fighting was bad enough, but it could be explained away if anyone came looking for him. Enforcing meant taking someone’s side; that wasn’t something her crew did. They were on their own side and that was it.
“Yes, he’s capable. But he’s not fighting for the money or for loyal
ty. He’s fighting because he’s frustrated and because he’s angry.”
“Two of the worst reasons,” he said.
The bedroom door opened. They both looked over the back of the couch.
A tired Isla appeared wrapped in a sheet. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said, pulling the sheet higher.
Harlow waved. “Hi, Isla,” she said, trying her best to be contrite. “I’m sorry, I just need him a minute and then I’ll be gone.”
“You’re not staying over?”
Harlow smiled. “Not this time.”
Isla didn’t find it funny. Harlow couldn’t blame her. The woman had never liked her relationship with Costello, but then she didn’t know Ryske.
“Go back to bed, I,” Costello said.
Retreating into the bedroom, Isla closed the door probably cursing Harlow’s name. She leaned in. “That’s great. You’re back together?”
“We’re hooking up,” he said and scratched his head. “Not sure it’s more than that.”
“Does she know?” Harlow asked.
“I don’t know. We don’t talk about relationship stuff. She showed up a few weeks back at two in the morning. Since then, every once in a while, she shows up.”
“And you have sex?”
Costello shrugged, buying himself time to drink. “I’m a guy and she’s hot.”
“She’s in love with you. Sometimes we women don’t make the best choices when we’re in love.”
Sinking into the corner of the couch, he brought a knee onto the seat and rested his drink on it. “Speaking from experience?”
The need to laugh hit her so hard that she almost spat out her drink. Just managing to hold onto the liquid, she swallowed it down. “God, yes!” Both of them were grinning. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had sex with Ryske when it was a dumb idea to do it.”
“So why did you?”
She wriggled deeper into the couch. “Because I love him, and he’s hot, and he’s good at it,” she said. “Probably all the reasons Isla keeps coming back to you… Though I can’t comment on the last one, I know you sure have stamina.”
“And that’s important,” he said, raising the last dribble of his liquor in a toast that Harlow reciprocated.
“It sure is.”
Each of them tossed back the last of their alcohol. Costello put both glasses on the table before shifting closer to take her hands.
“Ryske,” Costello said, bringing her back to the point. “He’s fighting for the wrong reasons.”
“I’m asking everyone to look after him,” she said. “To try their best to stop him.”
“If I see him around, I can, but I’m not out after dark much now Floyd’s is closed. No one is.”
“That won’t be for much longer,” she said, hoping that she wasn’t lying. “And I was thinking something a little more… targeted.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re an amazing teacher and you have so much patience.”
“Har, I haven’t seen many guys in better shape than him. He doesn’t need me to teach him anything… Isn’t there a gym in his apartment?”
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t need you to teach him how to fight. I need you to give him a safe place where he can vent.”
“You want me to spar with him?”
She shrugged. “He did say once that he wanted to see what you had.”
“Yeah, when he wanted to beat the shit out of me ‘cause he thought I wanted in your panties.”
“We’re all over that now and you’ve been over there talking about starting a business together.”
“I’m not saying we’re not friends,” he said. “But if he’s so angry and frustrated, he won’t want to listen to me.”
Pouting, she pushed her shoulders back. “That’s where your patience and wisdom come in, master.”
“Okay,” he said, shoving her shoulder and making her grin. “You can turn off the bullshit now, thank you.”
“I’m sorry. Look, this is serious. I’m serious. He means something to me and he could mean something to you too. How will you expand if your business partner is dead or in prison?”
“I don’t know. You’ll probably inherit everything anyway. I’m sure we’d work it out.”
He thought he was funny, but she just mock glared. “I could go in there and tell your girlfriend you bought an engagement ring today and really fuck up your life.”
His smile fell. “Wow, you’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
Leaning back, she folded her arms in triumph. “I’d do anything to keep my man safe.”
“Yeah, and what if I fail, huh? What if I just piss him off and he goes out there and gets himself killed anyway? Then who will be to blame?”
“Him,” she said. “I know you don’t want to be all touchy feely with him.” He snorted. “Just tell him I came to you worried, offer him somewhere to come and work out his frustrations, that’s all. Sometimes he needs to get away from home and the guys. He needs to clear his head… Even just let him come in and pound the shit out of one of the bags, anything that’s not him on the street.”
“You want me to tell him you were in my apartment in the middle of the night?” He looked down at himself and then at her. “I’m in my underwear and you’re not wearing much under that scrap.”
“I’m wearing nothing under this scrap,” she said, other than the scent of Ryske, but she omitted that fact. “But there’s also a naked woman in your room.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it will appease him to know I had two of you.”
“I meant you don’t need to fuck me when you’ve already fucked Isla.”
He peered at her. “Why aren’t you with Ryske tonight? No one’s seen you around and you haven’t been over here in like a month. We were beginning to think maybe you’d run off with one of the garbage guys who came to haul all that stuff out the bar.”
“It was a short lived affair. He was always putting his trash above me,” she said, but he didn’t laugh; he wasn’t letting her hide the truth with a joke. “I’ve been around. Not around here, but around.”
“The guys make a lot of excuses. You were unwell then you were at your parents helping your sister with her wedding plans… We all knew it was bullshit. We let it slide because, you know, we’ve heard what they can be into.”
Harlow didn’t want to ask about rumors because that could lead to being asked. Questions were not her friend.
“Ryske knows where I am and what’s going on,” she said. “But we can’t see each other much and that’s why he’s so…”
“Frustrated and angry?” he asked and she nodded. After a second of silent pleading, Costello conceded with a long inhale. “Okay, fine. You want me to ask him to come over, I’ll do it. I’ll open my door to him. But I am not taking responsibility for him.”
Overjoyed, she pulled him into a hug. “Oh, thank you. Even I wouldn’t take responsibility for him. It means so much to me that you’d try.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.” They broke the hug. He tucked her hair back behind her ear and kissed her bruised cheek. “You should get that checked out.”
“I’ve already been to the doctor tonight,” she said, jumping to her feet. “And I can’t go back… I only have time for one more stop.”
Harlow didn’t really need a ride for the last stop, but she thought it might be weird to just walk past Noon who was parked, waiting for her. So, she got back in the car and tossed her hair from her face.
“Now can we go home?” Penzance griped.
“Yes,” she said in a puff of breath and made eye contact with Noon. “Take me home.”
16
It was obvious Penzance was surprised when they drove around the corner, down the block and into the alley behind Floyd’s.
He groaned. “Oh, man. This is so not what I meant.”
“Oh, hush. Just lay down, no one will see you,” Harlow said and opened a hand to
Noon. “I need your key.”
Seeing Floyd’s dead at this time of night was an unsettling experience. Although it was late, there should still be stragglers leaving, or people who’d stayed for an after-hours drink. At the very least, Dover and Lowan should still be around, cleaning up.
But when she opened the side alley door, there wasn’t a peep from the bar. No conversation, no music, no lights. Sad as it was, Harlow wasn’t there for a drink; she was there for another reason.
Slipping off her shoes, she ensured her sedative packets were safe inside and bypassed the door to the bar to run up the stairs. Being as quiet as possible, she opened the door to the apartment and crept in side.
All was dark.
It wouldn’t stay dark. When Ryske and Maze came home later with Noon in tow, they’d probably wake everyone up. They were inconsiderate and none of them were delicate, so the disruption was inevitable. But, for now, it served her purpose that those present were asleep.
Letting the door stay just off its latch, she tiptoed to the right. Keeping an eye on the pull out bed until she slipped through the curtain to get to the bed in the corner, Harlow didn’t want to announce her arrival.
The man under the covers was sleeping. She could tell from the rhythm of his breathing. Although it was a shame to disturb him, she’d known waking him was a possibility. So she crawled onto the bed, on top of the covers and lay down with him.
For a few seconds, she just watched him, appreciating how peaceful he was. As much as Harlow would love to, she couldn’t stay there all night… If she didn’t act soon, she’d fall asleep, and that would lead to all kinds of catastrophes. The least of which would be Ryske coming home to find her there.
He wouldn’t care that she’d slept with Dover, she’d done that before. But he wouldn’t let her leave their home again. No way in hell would he let her walk out. If they fought, they’d both say things that they’d end up regretting. On top of that, Anwen would witness it all.
Touching Dover’s face with a fingertip, Harlow traced it along his cheekbone and down his jaw. “Hey,” she whispered. “Wake up, honey.” He did stir, but didn’t immediately open his eyes. With a light scratch, she moved her nails up and down on his upper arm. “Dover… Dover, honey, please wake up.” Giving him a bit of a shake, Harlow’s smile crept up when his eyelids loosened and slid open a few millimeters. “Hey.”
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