That didn’t matter; they didn’t sit.
Ophelia closed the door and turned to face them. “We have to trust each other,” she said, surprising the hell out of Harlow. “I know we have reason to dislike each other. But, really, we don’t want to give in to stereotype. We shouldn’t claw at each other. There doesn’t need to be a queen bee. Yes, I have the most invested in this and it’s possible that my brother lost his life for it, but—”
“Hold on,” Harlow said, raising a hand. “Did you just have the audacity to call me in here and tell me to respect you?”
“Harlow—”
“No, wait a second. You really want me to be your buddy? You know what’s funny about that? I was your goddamn friend.”
“I was your friend too,” Ophelia said, folding her arms. “Yet, you were fucking my man for months… Isn’t that what he just said?”
With her lips parted, Harlow’s tongue caught at the back of her teeth. Oh, Ophelia was some kind of bitch. Ryske had never been hers. Ophelia Hagan was the only woman he hadn’t fucked. But, she had the nerve to stand there and claim ownership over him just because there was a witness in the room.
Clucking her tongue, Harlow breathed out a laugh. “You know, I’m tempted to go out there and ride him raw right in front of you.”
Lydia yelped. “Oh my goodness.”
“Yes,” Ophelia said with feigned sympathy. “You see now why Yarker called her a whore… She’s quite uncouth.”
“Sling another name at me, Ophe, and that pretty face won’t be quite so flawless in the morning…” Leaning in, Harlow let herself ooze malevolence. “I do my own dirty work.”
“Really, Harlow, must you be so vulgar? Perhaps if you were more ladylike, he wouldn’t stray on you.”
This woman had gotten away with too much already. Everyone had a breaking point.
Harlow didn’t remember coming to a conscious decision to make a move. But her fist did. It flew through the air, taking Ophelia by surprise, smacking her in the face, sending her tumbling against the wall.
Ophelia called out; Lydia’s scream was louder. Harlow braced for Ophelia who leaped back to her feet. The rage burned until her reddened cheeks puffed out.
“You bitch,” Ophelia shouted and jumped forward.
Harlow ducked out of the way. Ophelia sailed past, missing her target, though she quickly whirled around. Evading another of Ophelia’s swings, Harlow used the clumsy move to catch her opponent’s arm. Exploiting Ophelia’s momentum, Harlow spun her around to clamp an arm around the woman’s neck.
Grabbing her own bent arm that was pulling on Ophelia’s shoulder, Harlow got her in a chokehold. Using the strength Costello had taught her to channel, she clenched hard, ignoring how Ophelia clawed at her forearm.
“Trinket,” Ryske’s voice made her head rise.
Apparently, Lydia had retrieved the men from the other room.
8
“Oh my God!” Parratt said. “Oh my God!”
The smirk on Ryske’s face was struggling not to become a laugh. Maze wasn’t as restrained. Although he was shocked, he didn’t hold back and let himself enjoy the view.
“Baby, let her go,” Ryske said.
Harlow tugged her victim, giving her another shake. Ryske shook his head.
Puffing out her irritation, Harlow relented and threw Ophelia forward, out of her hold and into Yarker who caught the woman.
“She called me a name,” Harlow said.
“Only I’m allowed to do that,” Ryske said.
“She’s an animal!” Ophelia tried to scream, except her voice was hoarse and she ended up losing her words to a coughing fit.
The name made Harlow growl again. She began to advance, but Ryske merged into her path, blocking out Ophelia.
“Trink,” he said, taking hold of her arms. “We’re business partners. We don’t attack our business partners.”
“I think… uh… maybe your girlfriend has impulse control issues,” Yarker said.
Her impulse control was impeccable. She’d been out of jail for months and this was the closest she’d come to taking Ophelia apart for what she’d done.
Harlow’s volatile reactions didn’t only have negative outcomes. Yarker had been calling her a whore ten minutes ago. Now he was calling her Ryske’s girlfriend. Whether he had respect for her or not, he’d learned to show that he did. That was an improvement.
“I encourage my girl to act on impulse as often as possible,” Ryske said, sinking his fingers into her hair. “Wanna fuck? Will that make you feel better?”
Screwing would make him feel better and she’d forget about Ophelia. Though that reprieve would be short lived; the female Hagan wasn’t finished yet. Her insanity could jeopardize their whole agenda. She had to hear whatever Ophelia had to say and gather whatever intel was available.
Though it was against her instinct, Harlow clenched her jaw and locked her eyes onto Ryske as she spoke. “I’m sorry, Ophelia,” she said, grinding out the words. “Won’t you please give me another chance to be reasonable?”
Though she huffed, Ophelia relented. “Control yourself and I will… Gentlemen, would you excuse us?”
Ryske bent down to kiss her. Still cupping one side of her head, he took his lips to her opposite ear. “You deserve a fucking Oscar for that one, Trink.”
Knowing he understood how difficult it was for her to defer to Ophelia, Harlow felt better. Her love’s wink gave her reason to smile. No matter what, she wasn’t alone. No matter how she had to prostrate and humiliate herself, it was all for the greater good of her crew.
The men retreated the way they’d come. Once they were alone, the three women stood in silence.
Lydia looked terrified, genuinely afraid for her life, like Harlow might snap on her next. It wasn’t the mistress’ fault she’d had to witness that violence. Harlow had been in jail for murder, so she had every right to be concerned. It wasn’t like they knew each other or had any kind of personal history.
Ophelia was rubbing her neck, scowling at her.
Instead of responding to that judgement, Harlow chose to show her sweetest smile. “So, Ophelia,” she said. “You were saying we should all get along.”
“I think it’s ridiculous that you harbor anger toward me given all you’ve done,” Ophelia snapped.
Harlow hadn’t done anything to her. But, that wasn’t how the world would see it. As far as the world knew, Harlow had stolen Ophelia’s fiancé and murdered her brother.
Evidence from the crime had been lost; everyone knew that was why she’d been liberated. Although, at the time, being granted her freedom from jail had been a relief, the way it had happened left lingering doubts. She never had, and likely never would, get her day in court. There was no way to refute anyone’s belief that she had committed the crime. Forever more, she would be a murderess, whether she’d been sentenced for murder or not.
Sure, if it had gone to court, Harlow probably would’ve been convicted. Though Ryske would remind her that without going through it, no one would ever know for sure how it would turn out.
“You’re right, Ophelia,” she said, going over to the table and pulling out a chair. “I should be more reasonable. It’s not like you murdered your own brother, is it? It’s not like you took advantage of a man who made his lack of feelings clear to you… It’s not like you paid someone to beat the shit out of an innocent woman.”
“You… you did that?” Lydia asked.
Harlow opened her arms, resting one elbow on the table and the other on the back of her chair. “Who knows what anyone did anymore? So, Ophe, why is it so important for us to be friends?”
Dropping her hand from her neck, Ophelia gave up on her victim act fast now that she didn’t have the right audience. “Because we can’t trust these men.”
Raising her brows, Harlow was surprised. “You don’t trust Ryske? Are you telling me not to trust him? Oh, he’ll love hearing about this.”
“Of course I trust him. We a
ll do,” Ophelia said, coming over to take the perpendicular seat. “But, with all of those women around, the drugs, the sex, we need to keep our heads. The women will want him. All of them. They’ll do anything to have him. Don’t doubt for a moment that Ryske’s head will be turned. Mr. Rowe’s will be too. We can’t rely on him.” It took Harlow a second to remember Mr. Rowe was Maze. “Yarker and Parratt are sex-starved dogs, so this nonsense about investors not sampling the women won’t last. You know it won’t. Ryske is right, he didn’t invest; he’s free to do whatever he likes. Parratt might not like him, but he’s smart enough to know we need a man with connections like his.”
Almost lost in Ophelia’s eyes, Harlow’s voice became a breath. “Wow,” she whispered. “I’d forgotten how good you were at this.” Although she disliked the woman, there was no doubting that the woman could weave a plot. “You’re saying that as women, we need to keep control of the chaos their cocks will cause.”
“Yes,” Ophelia said and sat back. “I also believe this should be a fair venture… The second floor of the club has been converted too.”
Harlow wasn’t sure what that meant. It wasn’t just her either. When she looked at Lydia, the woman seemed confused too.
“Converted to what?” Lydia asked after Ophelia didn’t expand on her statement.
Lydia came over to sit at the table with them, choosing the place opposite Harlow.
Ophelia enjoyed her position at the top of the table. “Men are not the only ones who like sex. It seemed only right that we incorporate a softer space.”
“For women?” Harlow asked.
“Or couples,” Ophelia said. “We have to consider the possibilities for diversification. Not everyone wants to be with a prostitute. They may wish to use the product in a safe environment… with a partner of their choice.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t know many straight male gigolos… Ryske will… We could accommodate same sex couples too.”
“One step at a time,” Ophelia said.
Ophelia wasn’t homophobic, but she had dismissed the suggestion so fast that Harlow began to suspect this was about more than just welcoming women into the sphere.
“It could be worth thinking about.”
“You are speaking on behalf of your factions,” Ophelia said. “You both have several members to support you. In the interests of fairness, I would like to bring someone in myself.”
“Someone?” Harlow asked. “Animal?”
“No, of course not,” Ophelia said. “I’m bringing in another woman.”
“Who?” Harlow asked.
Ophelia wasn’t ashamed to sit up straight. “Anwen.”
It wasn’t easy not to be horrified and rethink everything they’d gone through. This development made Harlow doubt every second Anwen had spent under their roof.
“You’re working with her?” Harlow asked.
“Actually, I haven’t spoken to her about it at all,” Ophelia said. “I can’t get in touch with her… I know you have her ear and thought you might be the best one to recruit her.”
This could be a ploy to draw Anwen out. “Why would you want her involved?” Harlow asked, embracing her suspicion.
“Anwen, who is… Wasn’t your brother engaged to a woman with that name?” Lydia asked. “I thought she died.”
Ophelia took Lydia’s hand. “Didn’t we all?” she said. “That is why I wanted you to be present for this. I’m asking Harlow to help us, to entrust our agenda to Anwen and to ask her to work with us…” Harlow was wary. “You’ll be doing her a favor. What does she have? She needs to get back into civilization somehow.”
An illegal enterprise was one way to do that.
Harlow couldn’t figure this out. Anwen had been staying with them and hadn’t shown any signs she wanted to hurt them. But, with the fire, and her own personal dramas, Harlow had to admit that she had neglected the woman of late.
If Anwen wanted to be their ally, it would be an asset to have her on the inside. But, if Ophelia recruited her away, she’d be a liability. She couldn’t forget that they were supposed to be protecting Anwen from Ophelia. Bringing her into the open might be exactly what Ophelia wanted.
Except, Harlow had to face the truth that Ophelia had made at least one good point. As noble as her crew’s motives had been, Anwen needed an exit strategy. She couldn’t stay locked up under their protection forever. One way or another, Anwen would have to take steps either to neutralize the threat Ophelia posed or she had to take care of it.
Assessing the situation, Harlow tried to draw conclusions. Would it benefit their side if the women reconciled? Ophelia didn’t want to hurt them, she just wanted Ryske. Ryske didn’t want her, but their plan was to give Ophelia what she wanted until they could find an official way out. Once they were free, Harlow and her crew would put as much distance between them and the nutcase as possible.
She was still trying to figure it out when a long sharp whistle sounded from the next room. Almost as if she’d been trained to respond to the noise, she stood up and went to the door without saying anything to the women at the table.
Opening the door, she found Ryske and Maze were standing near the couch they’d been seated on before.
“We’re leaving, Trink.”
She couldn’t say that she was sorry to hear that. The guys left the couch and started for the door, so she went straight to intercept them. As she blended into line between them, she threaded the fingers of her left hand through Ryske’s right and reached back to take Maze’s left hand.
Ryske opened the door.
“It’s a lie that will catch up to you, Ryske,” Parratt called out.
The man in front of her paused. Whatever the discussion had been in this room, it had led to their quick departure. Harlow stayed between Ryske and Maze, waiting to see if they’d fight or flee.
Ryske’s grip on her hand tightened and he started walking again, tugging her out of the room. Stalking down the corridor, he didn’t falter in his step, but she felt like she was hurrying to catch him up while pulling Maze along with her.
They got outside and back into the car where Noon was waiting, without speaking a word to each other.
“So?” Noon asked, pulling out of the alley. “How did it go?”
Sitting in the back with Ryske, Harlow watched his profile. It was set in a scowl that was focused on the passing streets. Sliding away from the middle of the car, she looked out her own window trying to decide what she should do about Anwen.
When Noon’s question was greeted by silence from the back, Maze was the one to answer. “Just drive, man.”
Maze knew what was on Ryske’s mind. He didn’t sound too happy about whatever had been brought up either, or maybe he was just annoyed that Ryske was upset.
Harlow trusted that they would loop her in after they were finished with their own reflection. She had some decisions to make before joining the debrief at the apartment. Asking Anwen about her affiliation with Ophelia could backfire; she couldn’t be sure that she could trust the woman’s word.
Bale’s assertions about her power over Ryske kept playing in her mind. If Harlow told her love that she wasn’t happy or that she didn’t trust having Anwen around, he’d kick her out. No doubt that would force Anwen back to Ophelia’s allegiance… either that or Ophelia would kill her.
Bale was right about the power she had with Ryske, though he’d failed to note that her love had the same power over her. If Ryske alluded to wanting something that was within her capability, or he expressed a need that she could fulfil, she’d do it. Whether he asked her to or not.
This wasn’t fun, she felt alone. She wanted to do the right thing for her crew and protect them at the same time. Harlow was still thinking about it when they turned onto a street she recognized.
Sitting up straight, she grabbed for the door. “Noon, will you stop here?”
He glanced to the side. “You want to go home? That place is a mess.”
“I know,” she said.
“I just need a minute.” She saw Noon twist further to get the nod from Ryske. Only after he nodded once did Noon pull the car to the curb. “Thank you.”
Ryske spoke to the front of the car. “We’ll get you back at—”
“No,” she said, putting a hand over Ryske’s. “You go home with the guys… I won’t be long. I can walk back myself.”
“Trink, I don’t—”
Lunging over the car, she kissed him. “I love you. Trust me.”
Though he was wearing a glare, he didn’t argue with her. Smiling, she slid toward the door and climbed out of the car to stand on the sidewalk until they’d driven away.
Only when they were gone did she turn around to face Floyd’s… or what was left of it.
9
The darkness broke her heart. Many people would probably say Floyd’s had always been a depressing place. Harlow wouldn’t.
At this time of night, the sign outside, above the corner door, should be illuminated. Light should be emanating from the upstairs windows and seeping through the cracks around the shutters on the lower floor.
Floyd’s had never been well lit. In fact, even she’d have called it dark. But, it was different now. The life had gone from the place. The illumination of the bar, the jukebox, and the dull light on the ceiling fans was gone.
The corner door was nailed shut and she didn’t have a crowbar with her this time. The side-alley door could still work, not that it mattered, she didn’t have her keys with her. There was some kind of irony that when she went around to the back alley and pushed the window they’d escaped from, it gave.
Pushing it as far as she could, Harlow grabbed the sill and hauled herself up. It had been easier to get over this peak with Maze’s help, but a little exertion wasn’t going to discourage her. She got herself up and inside.
Jumping down onto the spongy den floor, the truth really hit home. The water from the fire hoses had drained or been pumped out, but the damage remained.
Go All In (A Go Novel Book 4) Page 7