Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1)

by Scarlett Finn

  “Ryske,” she gasped when the pain of his grip grew, enhancing her arousal.

  “What is it that fascinates you about criminals, scholar?” The question surprised her. “That’s right, Trink, I read your essay. Their motivation. The excitement. The thrill… You don’t get it. Least you didn’t. Not until you met my crew. You want to know if I’m conning you? Well, I want to know if I’m just an academic exercise.”

  It hadn’t even occurred to her that getting close to him and his friends was anything other than altruism. Not at first anyway. “No! Ryske, I wouldn’t—”

  “Why didn’t you call the cops?” he asked, not soft and safe anymore.

  Also by Scarlett Finn

  GO NOVELS

  GO WITH IT

  EXILE

  HIDE & SEEK

  KISS CHASE

  THE BRANDED SERIES

  BRANDED

  SCARRED

  MARKED

  THE KINDRED SERIES

  RAVEN

  SWALLOW

  CUCKOO

  SWIFT

  FALCON

  FINCH

  THE EXPLICIT SERIES

  EXPLICIT INSTRUCTION

  EXPLICIT DETAIL

  EXPLICIT MEMORY

  RISQUE SERIES

  TAKE A RISK

  RISK IT ALL

  GAME OF RISK

  HARROW DUET

  FIGHTING FATE

  FIGHTING BACK

  MISTAKE DUET

  MISTAKE ME NOT

  SLEIGHT MISTAKE

  STANDALONE ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  RELUCTANT SUSPICION

  RESCUED

  STANDALONE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

  GETTING TRICKY

  HEIR’S AFFAIR

  MAESTRO’S MUSE

  REMEMBER WHEN…

  RIVALS ON AIR

  SWEET SEAS

  THIRTEEN

  XY FACTOR

  Copyright © 2019 Scarlett Finn

  The right of Scarlett Finn to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  First published in 2019

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

  www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  All rights reserved.

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  1

  Harlow Sweeting was ready for bed. Her first Saturday shift as the on-call family support officer had ended a couple of hours ago. Though that hadn’t meant any reprieve for her exhaustion. In her line of work, time became fluid. Leaving the family she’d been helping just because the clock had run out wasn’t an option.

  So, being ready for bed had little to do with being able to curl up and close her eyes. Instead, she found herself trailing down a cold, dark street in the small hours of the night, making her way home one step at a time.

  Her profession was more of a lifestyle than a vocation. No timecard could switch off its importance. There was no getting up and walking out just because she’d completed her allotted number of hours. People’s lives were more important than clocking out.

  Social service work was hard. Harlow had ventured onto the path of her current profession in high school. At a career fair, she’d discussed her interests with one of the advisor’s who’d told her that social work suited the “confluence of her needs” and was a “natural evolution of her interests.”

  Following the advisor’s suggestion, Harlow had done some research and decided it was an occupation where she could make a difference. After college, she’d joined a suburban division and stayed there until her recent move.

  No one chose social work for its simplicity. But suburbia had not been a hotbed of need.

  The last thing she wanted was a job that only required her to go through the motions. More. Harlow wanted more and had been ready to leap out of her comfort zone… no matter how big the challenge.

  A challenge was exactly what she’d been ready for when she made the decision to move from the easy, less demanding suburban department to the tough inner city. Much as she’d loved her colleagues and many of her clients in her previous position, there had been nothing to sink her teeth into. In short, she’d gotten bored. Transferring to a deprived urban area and taking up a post with child and family services made sense. To her anyway, her family were less understanding.

  The last thing that she wanted to do was concede that they might have been right. Harlow had thought she was ready for more. Truth was, she’d had no idea how difficult it would turn out to be. Reading about desperate scenarios in books was nothing like facing them in real life. Sometimes it felt like her heart was breaking every day.

  Working with vulnerable children drove her. Protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves was a worthy cause. No matter how difficult she found witnessing or hearing about what they endured, she reminded herself that they were the ones enduring it. All Harlow had to do was listen and care, not live it every minute. Supporting the youngsters in their time of need, giving them a chance to realize their potential, was the least she could do.

  Urban kids were savvy and street smart, even more so than her. Experience showed her how important it was to be confident, even when she was horrified. Being in the field, dealing with people hands on without fear, taught her more than she could learn from textbooks.

  That didn’t mean she’d given up the book learning. Harlow was a strong believer that there was always more for everyone to learn. In addition to her day job, she was doing an online criminology degree in what little spare time she could scrape together.

  Harlow hadn’t had the time to go back to traditional college. It hadn’t helped that her parents had refused to pay for a second degree, probably because they didn’t support the first one she’d chosen. And, they weren’t the only obstacle either. The man she’d been in a relationship with at the time saw her decision to study as a hobby rather than a way to challenge or better herself.

  But, it turned out that she didn’t need anyone’s support, just her own resolve. Her first degree allowed her to work and pay for her continued education herself. Doing it on her own meant she could be proud of the achievement no one had helped her attain.

  Completing the course online took twice as long as traditional channels. Relief had come when she entered her last year. At last, she was on the final stretch. The extra work had been worth it.

  Looking back, she could see that embarking on the course had probably been a prelude to her move into the city. Her need for something more challenging and dynamic hadn’t come from nowhere.

  Although, studying wa
s a half-measure.

  The course allowed her to read about and research dramatic, often tragic, situations full of thrills and excitement. Exactly the kind of stimulation that had been missing from her daily life.

  Life had gotten harder after making the choice to move to the city. No doubt about that. Her parents hadn’t supported her breaking her engagement or making so many life changes and had vowed to cut her off. Even though they hadn’t paid her any sort of allowance for a long time, Harlow had lived in their house until moving in with her fiancé, and again after that relationship ended.

  Leaving Rupert, and the safe suburb where she’d grown up, to strike out on her own was an achievement in itself. This was the first time in her life she was doing it all on her own. She could only rely on herself, and was proud of her financial independence, which wasn’t something her sibling could boast.

  Walking down the dark street in this dilapidated neighborhood, there was no one around, but Harlow couldn’t say she was sorry to be by herself. Colleagues had warned her not to walk down certain streets alone, and this was one of the ones they’d named.

  Still learning her way around, Harlow hadn’t meant to come this way, but had been too tired to pay attention to the direction of her feet. Getting home was the only thing on her mind and her apartment was six blocks away.

  Much as she wasn’t paying close attention to her route, her autopilot had been smart enough to steer her away from Floyd’s, a bar that was notorious for its less than savory clientele and numerous dodgy dealings. That was at least one small mercy.

  Harlow smiled.

  Her parents and sister wouldn’t be able to comprehend what her life had become. Sometimes she couldn’t comprehend it. No one in her family would be caught dead on a deserted street in the middle of a crime-ridden neighborhood well after midnight.

  The odd thing was, Harlow didn’t feel fear. Empowerment was what flowed through her. She was proud of herself. Shunning her upbringing hadn’t been easy; few people would understand why she had done it. But, on nights like this, when she was filled with a sense of purpose and pride, she remembered why the difficult path was so attractive.

  Breathing in, she sighed into the calm of this beautiful night that was just perfect for a walk, even if the setting wasn’t serene or romantic. Losing herself in her thoughts, Harlow took stock of where she was in life and where she might want to be next. She didn’t get too far into that train of thought.

  Everything that happened next, happened fast.

  Crossing the mouth of an alleyway, drifting on her mental distraction, she didn’t hear the rush of footsteps that must have preceded the impact of the body that hit hers hard.

  Someone had burst out of the alley and crashed straight into her. Whoever he was, he only just managed to catch her as they went into a tumble onto the sidewalk. Somehow, he had the presence of mind to twist them in the descent so she landed on top of him.

  But, he didn’t pause. Flipping them over, he put her on her back and pounced onto his feet in a crouch.

  “Get him!” someone called.

  The menacing voice bounced off the walls of the narrow alley making her assailant steal a quick glance over his shoulder to check the route he’d just travelled.

  Lying stunned on the pavement, Harlow couldn’t breathe or compute until somehow she noticed there was blood soaking through his shirt. “Oh my God, you’re hurt,” she said, scrambling up.

  The moment she found her feet, the stranger pulled her down again just as a series of bangs reverberated from the alley. Gunshots. That sound. It could only be gunshots.

  In the cocoon of his crouch, nestled between his bent legs with his body sheltering hers, Harlow couldn’t register how fast her night had become a fight to keep her life.

  “Got a weapon in that purse, Trinket?”

  The bass of the deep voice shook her before she could figure out that it had come from the man bracing himself around her. “I… I… a… no.”

  The click, click sound of an empty weapon came closer. “Good thing he’s out,” the voice said. “Ditch the heels and bolt.”

  The stranger. Her attacker and protector. Was he telling her to run? The man was alone and possibly bleeding to death while his enemies bore down on them, and he was telling her to split? That didn’t gel with her instinctive urge to help those in need.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, trying to see the blood on his shirt. The way his form was guarding hers left her in shadow and too close to see his injury. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Bolt.”

  Certain as he sounded, Harlow was more certain that she wouldn’t leave anyone alone in danger. “Like hell,” she said, shoving away to free herself from his shielding crouch.

  Thrusting to her feet, she skirted around the stooped man, putting him behind her. It was her turn to protect him. Facing the alleyway, she prepared to confront whoever might emerge from it. The stranger could have been right about the gun being empty, but the people who faded from the darkness into her view weren’t unarmed.

  Five guys strode from the shadows, mean and impatient. They wanted something from the bleeding man who’d sunk onto his knees on the asphalt behind her.

  “Move, lady, we’ve got business to finish,” one of the alley guys said.

  The stranger had shifted onto his knees. Seeing the movement had made her twist her head, so she hadn’t spotted which of the men was the speaker.

  Whoever the man behind her was, he wasn’t in a good way. Harlow wanted to offer comfort, to call for help. Except, that was impossible while this threat was still looming.

  Putting thoughts of the stranger’s possible demise to the back of her mind, she steeled herself to challenge the gang. “Not a chance,” she said, raising her chin with a defiant hair flick. “You’ve hurt him already. You’ve made your point.”

  “Long as he’s breathing, I’ve got a point to make.” One of the alleyway gang moved closer to spearhead his group. “I’ve got orders to end him.”

  “And I’ve got a point of my own to make.”

  The alleyman sneered, probably thinking about how easy it would be to move her aside. “And what’s that?”

  Now she had to come up with something. “If you want to end him, you’ll have to end me too.” Maintaining her defiance, Harlow didn’t so much as blink. Strength was crucial. “And, believe me, sir, people will notice if I go missing. You do not want to screw with the people who’ll come looking for me.” This was a battle of wills and she would not lose. She would not. Tilting her head to the side, Harlow showed more determination. “Do you have orders to end me too?”

  Though he did his best to disguise his concern, she could tell she’d pressed one of Alleyman’s buttons. Ignoring her hammering heart, Harlow kept her eyes locked on his. His tense lips moved in a show of frustrated aggravation. A breath later, she felt him stand down.

  “Your girl’s got your back, asshole. She won’t be around to save you next time.”

  Whoever Alleyman was, he spat on the ground beside her and turned away, spinning a finger, indicating to his posse that they should head back the way they’d come.

  Harlow kept watching until the shadows had taken them again. The moment they were gone, she whirled in a descent, ending in a crouch. Examining the man who hadn’t stood since she’d left his shelter, Harlow feared his injuries could be grave.

  Flopping forward, he barely managed to brace the weight of his upper body on his hands. It took him more than a few tries to lock his elbows. Scraping his palms on the asphalt, he crawled on all fours to the wall just on the inside of the alley. Wilting, he slumped against the brick and rolled on his shoulder until his back made contact with the structure.

  Rushing over, Harlow scooped a hand around the back of his head. His eyes were rolling in his skull, unable to focus. Feeling the pulse in his neck increased her concern. It was there, but it wasn’t strong or steady.

  “Oh, God,” she exhaled, letting him go to dig around in
her purse that was hanging across her body, resting in her lap. “Don’t worry, I’m calling 9-1-1, I’ll get help—”

  His hand shot up. The weight of it landed on her purse, pulling it down, and crushing her hand inside. His heavy eyes still weren’t focused. “No, no calls,” he grumbled, his voice weakening. “Floyd’s.”

  Her lips parted in a quiet gasp. “I… I can’t go in there, it’s dangerous.”

  A feeble smile touched his lips at the same time his eyes closed. “You just stood up to Hagan’s goons,” he said and coughed, his teeth gritted in a tight grimace of pain. “You can handle Floyd’s.”

  There were too many thoughts to comprehend; she couldn’t focus, couldn’t make a choice. How could she get this guy who had to be at least six three up onto his feet and to a bar that was a block and a half over? Who was Hagan? Would he or Alleyman be back?

  Forgetting about the people who’d done this, she triaged the problems. No matter what, she couldn’t leave this stranger here alone, not when he was seriously hurt. The most pressing matter was his life; that had to be her only focus.

  He hissed, trying to pull himself into more of a seated position. “Shh,” she said, stroking him from his face to his shoulder. “Don’t move.”

  The red stain on his tee-shirt was growing into a darker hue. Swallowing hard, Harlow moistened her lips a few times, gathering the gumption to pick the fabric up so she could see the state of what was beneath.

  The moment she did, she wished she hadn’t.

  “Fuck,” he grumbled and winced in a recoil.

  Just above his hip was a gash that was still spouting new blood. “Oh my God,” she said, tugging off her scarf to scrunch it and push it hard against the wound.

  She had no idea how he’d got hurt like this, though she had an idea about who was responsible. It frustrated her that he was refusing to go to hospital and she couldn’t begin to figure out why someone would want to avoid the place that could save them.