by Laura Kaye
The word was barely out of her mouth when Shane’s arms came around her back and he pulled her in tight. Without thinking about it, her arms went around him, too. He felt warm and strong and reassuring.
“I missed you,” he said.
She couldn’t remember anyone other than Jenna ever telling her that before. A sense of fullness expanded inside her chest. “You did?” she asked, breathing in the masculine spice of his skin.
Shane pulled back enough to make eye contact. “Yeah. I did.” Cupping her cheek in his big hand, he leaned down slowly, bright gray eyes looking into hers, and kissed her once, twice, three times. Small, warm presses of his lips to hers that left her breathless and yearning for more. Would he kiss her like this if he’d been disgusted by her back? He stepped away, pulling her from the thought, and took her hand in his. “You have time for a cup of coffee?”
She smiled, absolutely adoring how sweet and considerate he was. That’s not why you’re here, Crystal. For the tenth time, this isn’t a date. Right. “Yeah. Just enough,” she said.
“Come on, then.” Holding her hand, he guided her to the door, which he held open for her. Then, with his hand on the small of her back, they stepped toward the counter and got in line behind a man ordering a tray of drinks to go.
“What would you like?” Shane asked.
“Coffee’s fine,” she said, then she caught him ogling the case of pastries and laughed. “I think the question is what would you like?”
His gaze swung from the treats to her face, and his eyes flashed hot. “I’m looking at her.” Crystal’s heart stopped, then took off at a sprint. He . . . would like . . . me? Shane winked and said, “But for right this moment, I might settle for that big peach muffin.” He rubbed his stomach. “I skipped breakfast and could eat a horse.”
“Better get two, then,” she said.
“Aw, you’re gonna go and spoil me talking like that.” Smiling, he put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her against his side.
“Can I help you?” the pretty brunette behind the counter asked. The woman smiled at them both and was plenty polite to Crystal as she placed her order, but the clerk was so openly smitten with Shane it was almost funny. He joked with Crystal, tried to talk her into a pastry, insisted on paying the bill, and rubbed her shoulder while they waited, never seeming to notice the young woman’s obvious admiration. He probably didn’t even realize he’d done something special in that moment, but his actions made Crystal feel respected in a way she never felt when she was around Bruno. Hell, Bruno had no qualms at all about blatantly checking out other women when they went out together. Which wasn’t often.
Enough about Bruno. Enjoy the moment. There won’t be many more of them.
They retrieved their drinks and Shane’s softball-sized muffin and went to the little bar at the side to fix their coffee. Two creams and two sugars for her, three sugars for him. She smiled when she realized he was paying attention to how she took it.
She could get used to a man who treated her this way. Just don’t get used to this man.
Shane led them toward the back of the small shop and paused beside the last table. “This okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, slipping into the booth. He slid in opposite her, his long legs spilling into her side under the table. Crystal sipped her coffee and peeked at him above her cup.
God, he was so freaking gorgeous. Nice. Gentle. Playful. The list of things she liked about him went on and on. It made her chest fill with a pressure it surely couldn’t hold.
“You look pretty in that shirt,” he said. His kind words and friendly gaze made her squirm.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, not offering up that she’d made it. Sewing was one of the few pre-Bruno parts of herself she still possessed, and she felt protective of it, probably overly so. Grappling for a different topic of conversation, she blurted, “How did last night go?” Immediately, she worried she’d made a mistake when something dark and pained flashed through his expression.
“Some good, some not so good,” he said, shaking his head and looking down at his muffin. “Turns out Church’s people have another meeting sometime Friday. Maybe things will go better then.”
“Oh.” She had made a mistake. Way to go, Crystal. Not that he seemed angry that she’d asked, but he definitely seemed upset. Had she heard anything about Friday night? She didn’t think so. “Maybe I can help again,” she said, wanting to bring back his happiness.
He looked up at her, and the angle made her realize how long his eyelashes were. Her Pretty Boy. And he really was. “If you hear something, that’s great. But don’t do anything to put yourself at risk. We’ll figure it out.”
She nodded, but her mind spun on what she might be able to do. After all, it was only fair since she planned to ask him for help. “Here,” she said as she pulled a chunk of the muffin top free. “Open up.”
His face brightened, and he smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” He licked his lips and opened his mouth.
And the swipe of his tongue scrambled Crystal’s brain. She chuffed out a nervous laugh and went with it even though her heart raced and her hand shook. Leaning across the table, she placed the muffin on Shane’s tongue. And she didn’t think she was imagining the heat in his gaze as he chewed slowly, like he was savoring it, and made these little appreciative noises in the back of his throat.
“More,” he said.
Rolling her eyes but secretly pleased with this game, Crystal broke off another piece and brought it to his lips. When he opened, she popped it in, but he leaned forward and caught the tips of her fingers with his lips when he closed again. She laughed.
She recalled the dinner with Bruno the night before and . . . God . . . there was no freaking comparison. Not once in four years had she ever felt comfortable or free enough to be herself at his side. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized she might not know exactly who the real Crys—the real Sara—was anymore.
All she knew was that she greatly preferred the version of herself who came out around Shane, the one who laughed and joked and occasionally even got up the courage to do what she wanted, take what she wanted.
“You taste good,” he said, the smile clear on his face even as he took a long drink of coffee.
“You’re a terrible flirt, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a complaint. Crystal found it sexy and fun and flattering.
He winked. “You bring out the best in me, sweetness.”
She ducked her chin, hoping to hide the heat she suspected was pinking her cheeks again. Sighing, she pressed the button on her phone to check the time. Just as she thought.
“You said you had just enough time for coffee,” he said. “You have to be somewhere?”
Crystal nodded and brushed her hands against her jeans. “Unfortunately. I got called in to work a luncheon. I should leave in twenty minutes.”
Shane twisted his lips, like maybe he was disappointed. “Okay. What did you want to talk about?” he asked, taking another bite of muffin.
“Right,” she said, tucking her loose hair behind her ears. She grappled for the right words, but finally decided to go with the simplest and most direct. “I need your help.”
He reached across the table and covered one of her hands with his. “Name it.”
It was that easy? Sure, he’d offered—several times. But she was so unused to people being there for her that she realized she hadn’t fully believed him until this moment. “Um, okay. Something happened last night and—”
“What? Are you okay? Jenna?” A storm rolled in across Shane’s expression, and his gaze roamed over her face, her bare arms below the sleeves of her top.
She laid her free hand atop his. “We’re both okay, but I realize that we need to start planning a way out.” Instinctively, she lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder. “Now. I thought we could wait, but . . .” Crystal shook her head.
An intensity she didn’t understand poured into Shane’s gaze. “I think that’s sma
rt.”
She might be stupid for asking him this, but she figured anyone skilled and savvy enough to take on the Church gang might know what she needed to do. “I know this is a lot to ask, and I know you might not know anything about this.”
“What? Just ask. If I know, I’ll help. If I don’t, I’ll figure it out with you.”
With? Not for, but with. Like they’d do it together. Like maybe they were partners. She pushed the wishful thoughts away. “Do you know how I can get fake IDs for me and Jenna? And maybe some other paperwork, too?”
An emotion she couldn’t read passed over his expression. “Documentation for a new identity?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Exactly. Whatever that entails.”
Shane frowned. “I think it’s great you’re looking for a way out, Crystal. Truly. But . . .” Shane seemed to struggle for words. “I was hoping . . .” He closed his eyes, gave a rueful laugh, and tugged his hand through his hair, making the lighter blond ends all messy. Totally sexy. “You’d think I was a tongue-tied teenager asking his girl to the prom.”
Crystal smiled, but she was totally bewildered by what he was trying to say. “I don’t understand.”
He leaned forward and grasped both her hands in both of his. “Come stay with me. I have plenty of room for both of you. The guys you met at Confessions that night are what’s left of my Special Forces team. We’re sharing a building right now. We could keep you safe. Both of you. You wouldn’t have to run.”
For a long moment, Crystal’s brain couldn’t process what he’d said. Stay with him? And his—wait—his Special Forces team? Because it would be safer. Right. She shook her head. “I couldn’t impose you on and a bunch of others like that. I know you have a lot going on. And I want to get Jenna settled somewhere for real.”
Shane squeezed her hands. “It wouldn’t be an imposition at all. You and Jenna wouldn’t be the only women there, if that’s what you’re worried about. My best friend’s girlfriend lives there, and Becca’s great. She’d love you.” His gaze grew more intense. “This is . . . I need you to know . . . I don’t have any expectations here. I’m offering you two a safe harbor, no strings attached.”
Torn, Crystal shook her head again. The offer was too much, too tempting, too . . . she didn’t even know. But it made it hard to sit still in the booth. It seemed like the kind of thing she’d let herself believe in, then, poof!, it would just disappear, and she’d feel abandoned and disappointed. And stupid for having believed in the first place.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Shane, exactly, because she did. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t. But when you learned you couldn’t even trust your own father, it was near impossible to believe a man she’d known less than a week—no matter how good-hearted he seemed—would do something that big and amazing for her.
Bruno seemed safe once, too . . .
And even though her rational mind knew she was comparing apples to machine guns, the thought wound its way around her brain until it rooted deep.
All of a sudden, panic bubbled up in her belly, and she regretted opening her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you,” she said, grabbing her purse, scooting to the edge of the bench seat, and rising. She’d figure out another way to get what they needed.
Shane flew out of his seat and blocked her exit with his big body. “Don’t run away again. Please.” Slowly, he reached for her hand, like he knew she was on the verge of losing it and didn’t want to do something to push her over the edge. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. I’ll help you. However you need. Just know staying with me is a standing offer. Okay?”
Crystal looked into Shane’s steel gray eyes—really looked—and saw nothing but sincerity. She blew out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Will you stay and talk? For just a few more minutes?” he asked.
Her muscles relaxed as she shifted her knees back under the table, and Shane returned to his side.
“Got a pen?” he asked, grabbing a small stack of brown napkins from the dispenser against the wall. He accepted the ballpoint from her hand. In rapid-fire fashion, he asked her a series of questions about her and Jenna: fake name—Jessica for Jenna and Amanda for Crystal, because another fake name was just what she wanted, birth date, hair color, eye color, city of birth, blood type, social security numbers, and more. When he was done, he folded the napkins and slipped them into the pocket of his jeans. “If I forgot anything, I’ll let you know. But that ought to allow me to get started.”
“Okay. Thank you,” she said. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Not sure. Probably not long. Let me confirm when I find some sources and know more.”
“Of course,” she said. And though he was saying all the right things and helping her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made him unhappy. Or maybe sad. And it put a rock in her stomach that the coffee wasn’t helping. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time today.”
“Maybe later?” Shane said, hope in his voice.
“After this lunch, I have to go back five ’til eleven,” she said.
A weighted pause sat between them. Crystal longed for the playfulness of before.
Shane nodded. “I’ll walk you out.” Outside, he took her hand again and led her to her old red truck. The car beside hers had parked crooked, forcing her and Shane close beside her driver’s door. Then Shane stepped closer still, until he had her pressed up against the steel made warm by the late-April air. “My offer of help is unconditional. Remember that.” She nodded, her heart beating fast against her breastbone. He kissed her. The softness only lasted for a moment, then it was like something snapped inside him—snapped inside both of them.
Caressing her cheek, Shane’s tongue swept into her mouth, exploring, tasting, twining with her own. His other hand stroked her long hair, while her hands found his waist and burrowed under the untucked shirt to find the bare, hard muscle of his stomach. He groaned into their kiss as he pursued her again and again, kissing, nipping, sucking on her lips. Intense but gentle, like he was a man with an unending appetite and the patience to match. Against her stomach, the long length of his erection hardened, sending Crystal’s heart into a fast sprint.
It was just a kiss. But it was the kind of kiss that made a woman feel claimed, desired, powerful. And even as he thrilled her, he was the kind of man who made her feel safe—no part of her doubted that if she said stop, he’d be off her in an instant. His clean scent, lean muscles, and gentle touch combined to make it impossible to forget it was Shane who held her in his arms. And it all allowed Crystal to do something she’d never done before—enjoy, want, and wish for more. Her nipples tightened, and her core clenched, and Crystal would’ve given anything to have had the afternoon free, then to have had the courage to spend it with him continuing what they’d started in the middle of this cloud-covered parking lot.
Shane pulled away, his forehead against hers, his harsh breaths caressing her wet lips. “You better go,” he said, looking at her like going was the last thing he wanted her to do. He retreated a step and gestured for her to move to his other side, then he opened the door for her.
Hating the distance between them, Crystal climbed into her truck and reached for the door, but Shane leaned into the breach.
“I think about you and I worry about you all the time, Crystal. And it’s not just because I want to help you. And it’s not just because I want to protect you. I care about you. A lot. No matter what, don’t forget that.”
I feel the same way, she thought. And probably even more. But she couldn’t give voice to those thoughts. That would make them all too real. And after years of ignoring and boxing up her emotions, she was bad at feeling them, scared of admitting them, and worse at expressing them.
“’Bye,” she whispered, instead. As she started the truck and watched Shane walk away in her side-view mirror, she had the biggest sense of having just lost a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Silly, really. They’d be seeing each other aga
in. And he’d agreed to help, so she should be happy.
Right? Right. So, then, why wasn’t she?
THE BUSINESS LUNCH was just that—a liquor-laden schmoozefest of three-piece suits trying to impress some mucketymuck by slumming it at a strip club. Harmless and good-tipping. The perfect combination.
They’d finished eating a half hour ago, and Crystal was keeping them well lubricated with top-dollar, top-shelf labels as the girls danced.
Despite the fact that the nine of them were relatively easy to handle and that her tip escalated with every new drink order, Crystal was itching for the men to leave. Because something had taken Bruno and the rest of the Apostles off-site until later this afternoon. This was her chance to try to help Shane the way he was helping her. She spent time alone in Bruno’s office all the time. Nobody thought anything of it.
So she had a very rare, very important window of time.
But she couldn’t do anything until these guys decided to return to their upper-middle-class lives on the other side of town.
Twenty minutes later, the older man at the head of the table finally pulled out his platinum credit card and handed it to her to settle the bill. Thank God.
At the register near the bar, Walker gave her a smile. “They treat you okay?” he asked.
“Tame as kittens,” she said with a grin. And then she thought, I’m going to miss you, Walker. There weren’t many people she would miss from this life, but Walker might be one. He’d always been nice to her, looked out for her—looked out for all the girls, really. As ordinary as that seemed, though, it had been the exception rather than the rule in her life.
Until Shane.
Crystal waited for the credit-card slip to print and wondered who else she’d miss. Howie, the food-and-beverages manager, was another guy around here who’d looked out for her when he could, or offered her cautious words of advice when he couldn’t. But really . . . that was about it. Her feelings for the rest of the people she knew here were either neutral or negative. It was a sad testament to how much she’d been floating through her life the last few years.