Go It Alone (A Go Novel Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  “You’re mad,” Ryske said. His voice grated on her so much that she winced. “I get that, Trink. Will you let me explain?”

  “He’s here! He’s alive.”

  Ophelia was ecstatic, that much was obvious. Just a shame that Harlow couldn’t share in the exuberance.

  Giving up on dialing the phone, she finished her drink and then pulled the bracelet from her wrist to toss it at the bartender. “That should cover it.”

  At a loss, the bartender held it up. “This?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It’s worth more than it looks. I got it from a corpse. But, I just found out that corpse was a lying, cheating asshole… Guess that’s not fair, I already knew about the lying… and the cheating, so the asshole part wasn’t a leap, right?”

  “Funny,” Ryske muttered beside her.

  Harlow couldn’t be less interested in anything he had to say. Spinning around, she put her back to them and strode to the lobby and out onto the street. The night air hit her hard. Harlow didn’t care about the temperature. All she cared about was putting distance between her and whatever mindfuck she’d just gone through.

  “Harlow!” this time it was Ophelia who was calling after her. “Harlow! Hear him out!”

  What the hell was Ryske going to say that she would buy? Go with it? Ha, that was a joke, and it was on her. Slowing at the corner, she had to wait for the intersection to clear before she could cross.

  That gave Ophelia a chance to catch her up. “What is wrong?” Ophelia asked, trying to grab for her hand. Harlow pulled it away from her reach. “Har, talk to me. Why aren’t you over the moon?”

  “Because I grieved the bastard,” she said, catching the barest glimpse of him approaching. The hint of him in her periphery made her attention snap back to the traffic.

  “Trink, I was protecting you. You know what the plan was, what was going to happen between us, what we talked about. I let you be free. I gave you the chance to—”

  “Oh, you know what?” Rage compelled her to spin around. “That’s such a crock of…”

  Realizing her eyes were on his made her words stop. Ryske. Right there in front of her, tall and broad, he looked healthy. There was a keen light in his eyes that spoke of determination… and of lust.

  “Hello, Trinket,” he murmured and smiled.

  “Oh my God.”

  Harlow couldn’t breathe. The whole city had paused. No, the world was on standby and she was frozen within it.

  Confident and slow, he moseyed closer. One hand slid out of his pocket. It rose to skim her cheek with the softest of touches. The contact somehow made her head relax and her eyes grow heavy.

  The sensation of his lips meeting hers was a dream. A barest brush of mouths. It didn’t take long for him to press harder, to build the moment until he could coax her lips apart to let his tongue stroke hers.

  Ryske’s kiss had always had the power to intoxicate her and there on the street, she forgot herself. Harlow couldn’t remember being mad or scared. All she could remember was being without him and the desperation she’d existed in for so long.

  In those nights she’d wept for him, or spoken to him in the shadows, she’d promised to endure anything if it meant having the chance to taste him again. There he was, granting her wish.

  “Crash,” she breathed, her hands trailing up his body under his jacket to clutch at his tee-shirt.

  “It’s me. I’ve got you, baby.”

  Scooping his hand around to the back of her skull, he held her slicked hair in a tight fist, eased her head back and opened his mouth, begging more. She gave it. Harlow couldn’t deny him anything while she was caught up in satisfying her need.

  He was here. The man she’d been fighting for, he was holding her, kissing her, loving her. It was over. She had him back. She didn’t have to fight anymore, didn’t have to cry and hurt.

  Except, she wouldn’t have gone through any of those things if he hadn’t lied to her. And it wasn’t a little lie. It was a lie that had changed not only the course of her life, but the fiber of her being.

  Pressing on his chest, she broke their kiss to search his eyes. Obvious in their need, his drowsy attention suggested a desire for her. Could she trust them? Could she trust anything of him ever again? What was his agenda this time? Why had he come back? Why was he here?

  Slowly, her head began to move side to side in a loose shake. “No,” she whispered, retreating from his arms.

  His smile faded as a frown creased his brow. “Trink—”

  “You didn’t do it for me at all,” she said, unable to believe or to trust. “You don’t do anything for anyone but you… This is a lie.”

  “A lie?” he said, grabbing her hand to push it against the prominent erection in his jeans. “Is that a lie, baby?”

  Instinct made her hand leap to his cheek in a slap that echoed down the block. “You think I gave a damn about that?” she hissed. “Do you think I did all of this for that?”

  His teeth were clenched when he brought his head around from where her slap had sent it. “Harlow.”

  “Is that why you came back, baby?” she asked, spitting out the endearment. “Get lonely in the shower? Fuck you.”

  Turning, she intended to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and hauled her back. Whirling around, she brought the point of her ring to the soft underside of his jaw, forcing his head back.

  “Trinket,” he growled.

  “You saw what I did to the last man who tried to take from me, and I have no other dead lovers who’ll swoop in to save you,” she murmured. “Let me go or lose the life you weren’t all that fond of anyway.”

  His fingers unfurled one at a time. “Carpe noctem, Trink.”

  It was then she noticed the bracelet was back on her wrist, he must have paid for the drinks, and put it back while they were kissing. She wasn’t that shocked. Harlow had been so caught up in his kiss that she’d probably have missed an earthquake.

  Ryske was no longer the only one good at hiding his emotions; Harlow had been practicing her poker face. She blinked her gaze away from the bracelet like it was nothing to her.

  When he let her go, she backed away, opening her arms. “Don’t you worry about that, Ryske…” Harlow winked at him. “These days, I’m a girl who knows how to have a good time.”

  With her fingers in her mouth, she whistled to stop a cab. Ryske took a step toward her as she got in the back. Ophelia got in his way, giving Harlow the opportunity to give the cab driver an address.

  The couple on the sidewalk were arguing. Their disharmony gave Harlow her chance to make a clean break. Though where she went from here was anyone’s guess.

  14

  “He’s alive!” Harlow exclaimed, striding into Clyde’s apartment the minute he opened the door.

  She went into the kitchen and pulled the Jack Daniels from the cabinet to swig the liquor straight from the bottle. It probably wasn’t smart for her to drink anymore; she wasn’t going to be capable of making smart choices if she got drunk. But, if there was ever a good reason to make dumb choices, Ryske had given it to her.

  “And, you don’t want him to be alive,” Clyde said, coming into her field of vision. “Wait… are you telling me your whole plan was to kill the guy? Are you nuts, Harlow? You can’t commit murder.”

  Lowering the bottle, she squinted at him. “What? Who are you talking about?”

  “This Hagan person. That’s his name, isn’t it? Or, was it his guy? The one you call Alleyman. Is that who you were going for? I can’t believe you would think about—”

  “Murder?” she asked, taking another swig of liquor. “I almost killed Hagan. I wouldn’t have lost a second of sleep over it either. Do you know who stopped me?”

  “Who?” he asked and shook his head. “No, I don’t know who would have the power to—”

  “Ryske.”

  “Ryske,” he said and then paused as he realized what he’d said. “Wait… Ryske?”

  Harlow could identify with the s
low look of shock that crept across his face. It wasn’t every day that someone came back from the dead.

  With an outstretched arm, she offered him the bottle. He took it to begin gulping.

  Going past Clyde, she went into the living room. “I’ll admit, it did occur to me,” she said like she was telling a story. “It did. For the briefest second, when we were outside the hospital and I was all grief-stricken that maybe his body had just been abandoned…” Spinning on the spot, she dropped to let the couch catch her, and held up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I thought about it for that long. I thought maybe, just maybe, those bastards had pulled something like this… I let it go. Stupid fucking bitch. I let it go.”

  Clyde paused in his descent to the end of the couch beside her. “You swear more these days than you used to.”

  Snatching the bottle from him, she felt better having it in her grip. “It’s a new habit. I’m taking it up along with alcoholism and celibacy.”

  And, because it smelled like oblivion, she took a drink from the bottle.

  “Is that blood?” Clyde asked.

  She noticed him eyeing her ring. “Mm,” she said, taking her lips from the bottle. “I did stab him.”

  “Ryske?”

  “Hagan,” she said, making him nod.

  Sitting in silence, Harlow gave Clyde some time to absorb the news. She’d had more time to process. So, while Clyde was probably still in shock, she began to appreciate the irony of this moment. Her lips twitched once, and then again before they curved and a laugh burst from her.

  This conversation was so normal. Compared to what else had happened that night, it was almost benign. Somewhere there had been a transition, but she’d missed it. Going about her life, taking each day as it came, she’d missed the moment when it had become normal for her to discuss murder like it was inevitable.

  The laughter kept on coming. She couldn’t get it together.

  Clyde snatched the bottle and slammed it onto the table. Her laughter was getting louder and more maniacal. Her friend grabbed hold of her, forcing her body around to face his.

  “Harlow,” he said, becoming stern. “Harlow, stop it. Har!” Giving her a shake, his worry was more tangible than rage. “Harlow!”

  Sucking in a long breath, she released it in a groan. “Oh, what am I going to do now, Clyde? What the fuck did I do to my life for him?”

  “You did what you had to do,” he said, brushing her stiff hair from her temple. “You did what you thought was right.”

  “He’s alive,” she said, feeling the effects of the alcohol. “He never needed me to avenge him. Now I’m half a mill lighter, two tattoos up, and all I have to show for it is this lousy bracelet.”

  Raising her arm was easy. Bringing herself to look at the object that had given her comfort for more than four months was harder.

  “He’s an asshole,” Clyde said. “But, you’ve built a life here. You’re not going to let him take it away from you… are you?”

  “What choice do I have?” she asked. “I fell for it hook, line, and sinker… I’ll bet the money is all he wanted anyway.”

  “This half a mill you just mentioned?” She nodded. “How did you give him half a million dollars if you thought he was dead?”

  Too tired to explain, she wriggled out of Clyde’s grip and slumped against the back of the couch. “It was supposed to be an investment.”

  “An investment goes into something,” he said. “So, the money’s still there?”

  “Who knows?” she said, pushing up a little to get more comfortable. “I stabbed one of my business partners tonight. I’d guess my role in the operation is over.”

  His frown was set when he took her arms and pulled her upright. “I don’t like seeing you this way.”

  “Drunk?” she asked and tried to reach over him for the booze, but he held her away from it. “I manage a bar, you know. If I want to get liquored up, I can…”

  No, she couldn’t. Floyd’s wasn’t her home anymore. It was over. It was all over.

  “You’re not going to let him get away with this,” Clyde said. “We’re not going to let him get away with it. You’re going to get your money back.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the money,” she said, though that wasn’t really fair. It wasn’t her money not to care about. That said, having the investment returned was irrelevant to both her and Rupert. Repayment of the half mill wouldn’t have anything to do with cash. Numb and a little out of body, she was like a ragdoll, swinging and sagging. “I’ll be paying that back for the rest of my life.”

  “I don’t understand,” Clyde said. “You haven’t trusted me with your plan until now. I always thought it was about protecting Ryske. You don’t have to do that anymore. So, tell me, trust me.”

  There was no way out of this. Clyde didn’t seem to get it. She’d dug herself into a hole. She’d been confident there until Ryske came along with his shovel and started to fill it in, burying her alive.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered. “I don’t care about anything.”

  At least when she’d been fighting for Ryske she could feel love for him and determination in her cause. Just like during her earlier grief process, the only emotions she’d been able to feel were connected to Ryske. Now, there was nothing to feel.

  “There are things you care about,” Clyde said, stroking her face. “You feel this way now because you’re in shock. But, you are not going to let him get away with making a fool of you. You’re sure not going to roll over and let him keep doing it. You built Floyd’s back up. You did that. You opened those doors. You got yourself invested in whatever this thing is. None of that goes away just because that jerk chose to show his face. This is better. It is. You’re going to hold your head up. You have people who care about you and people who want to see you succeed.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He shook her hard. “You do! You care, Harlow Sweeting. I know you do because I’ve seen your determination. I’ve seen how you can achieve anything when you put your mind to it, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to get some sleep and wake up fresh. You’re going to go over to Floyd’s, get your stuff, and tell your friends exactly what kind of an asshole Ryske is.”

  Was she? Harlow didn’t care about things, and she wasn’t sure she cared what people thought about Ryske. He’d only convince them otherwise anyway. He was a pro who could convince anyone of anything, even the most resistant mind. He’d managed to convince her that he was dead and she definitely hadn’t wanted to believe that.

  “I was full of fight,” she said. “I thought I was capable of anything. You should’ve seen me tonight, Clyde. I was… I was on fire.”

  “And you’re going to use that to see this through… get your money back and then have the life you want.”

  The life she wanted. That was a punchline in itself. Harlow hadn’t been sure what she wanted before tonight other than to achieve her short-term goals for payback. Now her life was in the wringer and she wasn’t sure she wanted to unwring it.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, her head moving side to side. “I can’t do it anymore. I’m done. I’m through… I can’t go it alone anymore.”

  “Harlow,” he whispered, his thumb tracing from her jaw to her cheekbone. “You think I would let that happen? You’re not alone.” His lips quirked a fraction and he shook his head. “You’re not alone, sweetheart.”

  All she could do when he leaned in to kiss her was stay as still as possible. Clyde had been her friend through all of this. He hadn’t lied to her. He’d told her the truth even when she hadn’t wanted to hear it.

  But, this? She hadn’t thought for a second that he had any kind of attraction to her.

  His kiss wasn’t as consuming as Ryske’s. In fact, it set her mind into speed-think mode. Sleeping with Clyde would be a great way to show Ryske that he was nothing to her; that he had no impact on her choices.

  Horror made her push Clyde away.
<
br />   Had she really just been thinking about using her friend to get back at the man who’d destroyed her life?

  Panicked, she leaped to her feet.

  “Harlow, I’m sorry,” Clyde said.

  Talking was beyond her ability. She didn’t even know what would come out of her mouth if she tried. Getting up, getting going, getting out of there, those were automatic actions. Clyde called to her, but she didn’t slow or so much as pause for breath at the door while walking out.

  This night had started full of optimism. Sure, there had been anxiety; there was no way to deny that when the stakes were so great. In spite of those nerves, Harlow had been sure that the night would end on a high.

  How wrong she’d been.

  Wandering the streets without a destination in mind, it didn’t matter that she would look a mess to any gawkers who walked by. Harlow felt too alone to notice anyone else. Minutes could have passed, or maybe it was hours of feeling ragged and numb. Being in a daze, detached from reality, made it impossible to make decisions and set goals. Nothing made sense anymore. When her tears began to fall, they were a welcome progression.

  Once sensation began to awaken again, she considered her options and came to the quick conclusion that there were only three available choices.

  Clarity made her stop.

  It took only seconds for her to recognize where she was. This was the spot where she’d met Ryske. Roaming without aim had brought her there. Something in her subconscious had steered her in the same direction she’d been walking the night she met Ryske.

  Back then, she’d been innocent to what love was and how deep betrayal could cut. Her job, her life, her move to the city, they’d all been on her mind the night Ryske had come barreling down that alleyway and crashed straight into her.

  Life hadn’t been the same since.

  So, there she was, at a proverbial cross roads. Harlow could give up and go home to Rupert, who was waiting to welcome her back with open arms. She could do as Clyde had suggested and fight to get her money back. Or there was the third choice…

  Turning her hands, she looked at her vulnerable forearms and the soft flesh presented there. Pressing the point of her ring to the inside of her wrist, she increased the pressure until the sting became painful.