by Laura Kaye
A sob ripped out of her, smothered against his chest. Movement and voices came from behind her, but Crystal couldn’t think about any of that. Shane’s heat, his scent, the cotton of his button-down against her face—that was the universe of information she could handle in that moment.
Jenna.
Crystal wrenched back. “Jenna’s gone,” she said, her voice warped by tears and fear and grief. “I think Bruno has her.”
Something terrifying appeared in Shane’s steel gray eyes. Sympathy. Regret. Confirmation. “He does,” Shane said in a low, cautious voice.
Confusion scattered her thoughts. “Wait,” she said. “How—”
“Clear,” came a male voice from the back of the apartment.
“Clear,” another man said.
“Clear,” came a third. “Apartment’s empty.”
“Wait!” she yelled as the men spoke.
Five pairs of male eyes swung to her, and the room went silent.
Shaking her head, Crystal met Shane’s gaze. “How do you know? How do you know he has her?” Shane heaved a breath and his shoulders fell. “How do you know?”
“I bugged your apartment. That first night I was here.”
The words came to her as if through a tunnel, distant and tinny. “What?” He’d been spying on her? She retreated a step, pulling herself away from his touch. Shane spied on her . . . just like Bruno. “You . . .” She shook her head again, her mind so badly wanting to reject what he’d said.
“This damage wasn’t quiet. A neighbor has got to have called the police,” the huge man said, looking from Shane to a dark-haired man she hadn’t met. Crystal couldn’t remember the big guy’s name, though they’d met at Confessions. “We should relocate this conversation.”
She pushed on like the man hadn’t spoken. “Why would you do that? I helped you. I risked myself for you. I risked Jenna.” Static roared inside her head and white-hot rage filled her chest. Lunging, she swung her fists at Shane. “It’s your fault this happened!”
“Crystal. Stop. I’m sorry,” he said, taking her blows. “I know. Just stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” His voice was tight, sad, desperate as he caught her wrists in his hands.
“I thought I could trust you,” she said, not meaning to voice the thought but not regretting it one bit when Shane flinched.
“You can. I promise.”
“Oh, you promise? Well, then.” She threw up her arms, her heart breaking twice over. First, for the loss of Jenna, and second for the loss of the idea she’d had of Shane. How stupid she’d been. How reckless. And now the only person in the world she loved—and who loved her—had been kidnapped . . . and who knew what else. Tears squeezed her throat until it was hard to breathe. “I did everything you asked of me. You didn’t have to make me . . .” Fall in love with you.
“I will explain. Later.” Shane grasped her by the arms and looked her dead in the eyes. “I know I fucked up, but those bugs were here in part so I could help if something like this happened. We heard Bruno bust his way in here. That’s how we knew. We tried to get here in time to save Jenna.” He swallowed hard, like failing to do so cut him. Deep. “We tried. But right now, we have to get you out of here.”
“I’m not—”
“Crystal, you don’t have a choice. Bruno will come back. But where we live is safe. And we can figure out how to get Jenna back.”
Get Jenna . . . back? They could do that?
For the first time in long minutes, the chaos in her mind subsided. The rage dulled. The hurt faded away. A new image flashed into Crystal’s mind—Shane and the dark-haired man hauling the injured blond guy up the steps and out of Confessions. “How?”
His thumbs rubbed gently over her arms where he held her. “I don’t know yet. That’s what we need to figure out. And we shouldn’t waste any time.”
Saving Jenna was all that mattered. Crystal nodded and followed Shane to the door, only darting back to retrieve her purse and her sister’s prescription. Oh, God. She doesn’t have any medicine with her. But Crystal couldn’t think on that long, because the five men circled tight around her and guided her out the door, down the steps, and a short distance across the lot to a big SUV.
Crystal ended up in the backseat between Shane and a big, athletic-looking man with dark brown skin and an absolutely lethal expression on his face. Edward. The one who had guarded Jenna the night she’d come to the club.
When he caught her looking, he met her gaze, and his brown eyes were fierce. “We will do everything we can to get Jenna,” he said, as the truck tore across the lot, the sound of the engine like a freight train.
The vow kept the worst of the panic at bay, but not all of it. Because she’d been held against her will by the Church gang. She knew what most of the worst-case scenarios looked like. Saw the reminder of it every day in the mirror. And her soul bled at the idea that she and Jenna would have any of that in common.
All her work. All her precautions. All the sacrifices Crystal had made to keep this very thing from happening. None of it had mattered. In the end, she hadn’t kept Jenna safe. She hadn’t kept her promise to their father.
The rough ride jostled her in the seat. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hold it together. A whimper caught in her throat, and hot lines of tears spilled from her eyes.
“Come here,” Shane said in a low voice, lifting his arm around her shoulders and tilting her chin toward him with his other hand. “It’s not okay right now. I know it’s not. But it will be.”
“We have to get her, Shane. We have to.” She heard the pleading in her words and felt it pouring out of her eyes, and she wasn’t ashamed to beg. Not for Jenna’s life. “Please. I wouldn’t be able to live if anything happened to her.”
Shane nodded, and his expression was equal parts enraged and heartbroken, just like she felt. “I know,” he said.
As the world raced by outside the windows of the SUV, his words rekindled her anger. “No, you don’t. You don’t know. You can’t know what it’s like to have your sister ripped away from you, and to have that be your fault!”
Shane grimaced like she’d punched him. An odd tension Crystal didn’t understand filled the truck’s cabin.
“Yeah, I do. I know exactly what that feels like.” His soft declaration ratcheted the tension further. Crystal looked around at the other men, trying to figure it out, but they’d all turned away.
With deft flicks of his fingers, Shane unbuttoned the top of his shirt and tugged the left half to the side. His actions revealed the tattoo she’d asked about that night in his truck, the one she hadn’t been able to make out and he’d said represented a sad memory. Crystal’s stomach rolled as her gaze traced over the image of a winged broken heart stabbed through by a dagger.
Grief rolled into Shane’s gaze. “When I was thirteen, my eight-year-old sister Molly disappeared from our house while I was babysitting her. I’d told her to leave me alone. The police searched actively for about three weeks, but the false leads that broke and rebroke my mother’s heart went on for years. We never saw Molly again.” Grasping Crystal’s hand, he brought it against the warm, hard skin of his chest over his broken heart. “I understand,” he said in a strangled voice, his eyes glassy.
“Oh,” she said, his pain washing over her until it was hard to breathe—and harder to restrain herself from comforting him. “I’m sorry.” Crystal threw her arms around Shane’s neck and scrabbled into his lap. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“So am I,” he said against her hair. “But you have to know. I would lay down my life to make sure we get Jenna back.”
Face-to-face, they held each other, whispering words of comfort and apology. Crystal had been so right and so wrong. Even if he’d done something he shouldn’t have in bugging her apartment—and that still stung, Shane was a good man. She hadn’t read him wrong. But Bruno Ashe? He was an evil piece of shit. “I didn’t mean what I said,” she rasped, needing him to know, to believe. “It’s not your faul
t . . .”
Shane shook his head. “You were right that I invaded your privacy. And I’m sorry,” he said, stroking her hair and wiping a tear with his thumb. “But I was so afraid for you that I justified what I did as being for your own good. I understand if you can’t forgive me or trust me, but you have to at least know that I never meant any harm.”
“I know,” she said. “I believe you.” Crystal buried her face in his neck and breathed him in. His scent, his heat, his strength grounded her, gave her what hope there was in this hopeless situation.
No, she had to believe there was hope. She simply refused to accept any other outcome.
Jenna had wanted to pack up and leave this morning. Crystal had been the one to urge caution. Thinking back to that conversation nearly broke her heart. They could’ve been gone by now, and Jenna would’ve been safe. So if she lost Jenna—when it was her carelessness in Bruno’s office that had set off this whole chain of events, she knew one thing for sure.
Crystal would never, ever forgive herself.
SOUL-DEEP RELIEF FLOWED through Shane’s blood as he held Crystal in his arms. She was a slight little thing, and soft. And her presence went a long way toward quieting the ancient grief and guilt always stalking around at the back of his mind.
Less than an hour before, terror that he’d never feel this with her again had gripped him all the way into his DNA.
The drive to her place had been sheer torture. His sprint across the parking lot and into her building had felt like wading through wet concrete. But the minute he’d seen her dart behind the door, knowing it was her because she’d worn the same shirt as earlier, Shane had been able to breathe again.
It was an incomplete relief. A hollow victory. Because they hadn’t reached Jenna in time.
And now she was gone.
But Shane meant what he’d said to Crystal. If giving his life would restore Jenna’s, he would make that sacrifice. He refused to let Crystal suffer what he had all these years.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
A bone-jarring rattle as they crossed railroad tracks at a fast clip. “I haven’t seen a tail, have you?” Nick asked.
Beckett shook his head. “We’re clean as a whistle.”
Peering out the window of the SUV, Shane recognized the run-down landmarks of Hard Ink’s neighborhood. They were almost home. Which was good, because the team needed to make plans, and he and Crystal needed some alone time to finish their conversation.
He hadn’t thought twice about discussing his tragedy in front of the guys. She’d needed to believe in his ability to understand what she was going through, and he’d been willing to do what it took to earn that belief. Simple as.
But Shane had more to say—a lot more. He hadn’t said he’d understood just because he’d once been through the same thing. He’d said it because Crystal’s pain was his pain, too.
Apparently, that was what happened when you fell in love.
Beckett guided the truck through the fence and into Hard Ink’s lot. “We’re here,” Shane said.
“Okay,” Crystal said, her voice weary and weak. Shane kissed her hair, willing to do anything to make this better for her.
“We’ve got company,” Marz said from the front seat. Shane braced, peering over his friends’ shoulders through the windshield. The biker dude who worked at Hard Ink had just stepped out the back door, helmet in hand.
“It’s only Ike,” Nick said.
“I know,” Marz said, as Beckett pulled into a spot not far from Ike’s Harley. “Just wish we knew more about what his club was into. I know you and Jeremy think he’s fine, and he probably is. But I’d feel better confirming that he and his brothers aren’t in bed with Church.” Made sense to Shane. Everything they’d learned so far made it clear how far Church’s reach extended around this city. It’d be close to a miracle if they weren’t connected somehow. And they’d been damn short on miracles so far. The last hour proved that.
Nick looked from Marz over his shoulder to Easy and Shane. “Known the man for a while. Maybe I should just talk to him. See what I can find out.” Given how tight they were on time, that was probably the path of least resistance. Besides, Nick’s gut was usually spot on.
“Agreed,” Shane said.
Marz shrugged. “Your call, hoss.”
They spilled out of Beckett’s truck and congregated at the rear just as Ike neared. The man’s smile and greeting died on the vine as his gaze landed on the holstered piece on Beckett’s side he hadn’t tried to hide. Then Ike’s brown eyes went stone cold.
“Sorry,” Nick said. “It’s cool, Ike.”
Ike’s gaze scanned the group and landed on Crystal, tucked under Shane’s arm. “Everything okay here?” he asked. And that measured response to Beckett’s aggression and the hard-edged tension rolling off of all of them earned Ike a measure of respect in Shane’s book. The guy was tight and levelheaded. He hadn’t flown off the handle where a lot of tough guys might’ve.
“We had a bit of a situation,” Nick said.
Ike tilted his head and nailed Nick with a stare. “What’s going on?” He gestured at the group with the hand holding the helmet. “I’m not getting much of an old-friends-setting-up-a-new-business vibe here,” he said, referring to the cover story they’d told earlier in the week.
“Yeah.” Nick raked a hand through his hair. “About that.”
“You have something you need to say, Nick? Because I’m sensing some shit is going down for you. And that makes me concerned about blowback for Jeremy. Does he even know?” Ike shifted feet, growing agitation clear in his posture and the tone of his voice.
“He knows,” Nick said. “Turns out I brought some ghosts home with me from Afghanistan. Ghosts by the names of WEC and Jimmy Church. Mean anything to you?”
Ike braced his hands on his hips. “You gotta be shitting me. You’re on the wrong side of Church? That crazy motherfucker thinks he’s some kind of second coming of Christ.”
“So you know him?” Shane asked, his instinct sitting up and taking notice of Ike’s hostility. Maybe there was an opportunity here. An enemy-of-my-enemy-is-my-friend kinda thing.
“Yeah, I know him.” Scrubbing a hand over his bald head, Ike turned and paced, shaking his head and cussing a blue streak under his breath.
“He’s a Raven,” Crystal said, lifting her head off Shane’s chest and staring at the back of Ike’s cutoff denim jacket. A big black, white, and red patch of a raven perched on a skull with a knife through the eye socket covered his back. In black letters above and below, the patch read,
RAVEN RIDERS
MARYLAND
Smaller lettering above the state name read, “Death on Wheels.”
Ike pivoted, and his gaze cut straight to her. “Yeah. What of it?”
Shane tugged Crystal tighter against him, not appreciating the ice in Ike’s tone being directed as her.
She held out a hand meant to appease. “Churchmen hate Ravens,” she said. “Right?”
“Feeling’s mutual,” he bit out. “Has been for years.”
“So you don’t have to worry,” she said, looking up at Shane. “Ravens don’t get in bed with Churchmen. Ever.” This woman was smart, savvy, strong. So much to respect about her, and Shane knew he’d only scratched the surface. Her being able to confirm Ike’s independence from Church was a huge load off the team’s shoulders. Tension deflated from the air.
Ike chuffed out a laugh. “Lady knows what she’s talking about.”
A cell phone rang. Crystal gasped. “Oh, my God,” she cried. “What if that’s Jenna?” Shaking, she tore open her purse and removed the iPhone. The name on the caller ID read Bruno Ashe. “What do I do?” she asked, wide eyes flashing to Shane.
“It’s Bruno,” he said loud enough that the team knew what was going down. As everyone gathered closer round, including Ike, Shane cupped Crystal’s cheek. “Answer it on speaker so we can hear. You’ll do fine.”
“Hold up.” Ma
rz held out his phone with the camera set to video recording. Smart thinking. Now they’d have the audio to play back just in case.
“Go ahead,” Shane said, nodding.
Crystal answered the call. “Bruno,” she said, her voice audibly shaken.
“Missing anything, baby?” he said, so smug and almost gleeful that Shane wanted to dive through the phone and tears his balls off by reaching down the asshole’s throat.
“What did you do with Jenna?” she asked. “She doesn’t have her meds, Bruno.”
“Oh, you mean the ones I’ve been paying for the past four years. And how did you repay me for that generosity?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, hugging herself tight. The fear and pleading in her voice made Shane bleed for her. His chest felt on fire inside.
“Who’s the guy?” he nearly growled.
Her eyes flashed to Shane’s. He nodded and mouthed, “Doing good.”
“What guy?” she said.
Bruno made a sound like a growl. “Don’t play me, Crystal. The guy with the fucking prepaid. The one I found under my desk. Interesting place in its own right, don’t you think?”
How in the world had Crystal lost the burn phone in Bruno’s office? Unease crawled down Shane’s spine.
“A friend. Just a friend,” she said, pressing her hand to her face. Shane surveyed the group and found rage and disgust on every face. He was glad they had his back in this fubar. And hers.
“Did you fuck him?”
“What? No. You know I haven’t,” she said. What a fucking piece of trash this guy was. How the hell had Crystal ever gotten tied up with him? But Crystal was a class act and didn’t take his bait. “Bruno, where’s Jenna? The stress of this could cause a seizure. Why would you do this to her?”
“Eh, it already has.” Shane felt Crystal’s distressed gasp in his gut. “She’s out of it. Oh, and I put her up in your favorite room.”
What the hell did that mean?
The blood rushed out of Crystal’s face, and she swayed. Shane caught her against his side as she moaned. “What? Bruno, no. Please.”