Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1)

by Scarlett Finn

  “Time to give up,” Gina said with a thread of judgement.

  Despite her efforts, Harlow hadn’t won over her boss.

  “There’s one place we haven’t tried,” Clyde said, slowing when they reached the corner.

  He didn’t elaborate with words, but nodded across the intersection to the diagonal corner of the crossroads.

  Gina laughed. Harlow turned to see where he was talking about. Floyd’s. Her reaction was immediate, but, somehow, she managed to internalize it. They’d come at it from the opposite side, so she hadn’t recognized where they were.

  This was the neighborhood where her department did most of their work. She’d known Floyd’s was close by but had been so preoccupied with her concern for Felipe that she hadn’t grasped they were about to come upon it.

  Her heart began to race. Standing there, on that open corner, she was exposed. Any member of Ryske’s crew could come out at any second and see her loitering.

  Since Ryske had left her apartment, she hadn’t heard a peep from him or his friends. Still, all of them invaded her thoughts at different, sometimes inconvenient, times. Concern for their welfare made Harlow go so far as to check obits and scan the internet for stories about tragedy in this neighborhood. Each time she didn’t find the name of anyone she knew, she’d been relieved. Though, that didn’t really mean anything. There were no guarantees.

  No amount of reading could give her assurances about their safety. Without talking to them, Harlow couldn’t be sure that Ryske, or his crew, was even alive. Anything could have happened on Ryske’s return to Floyd’s. A confrontation with Alleyman could have ensued and maybe one of them had ended up with more than a scar.

  In the nights, lying in her bed, where Ryske had slept so many times, she wished she knew more about the man… and where he called home. Without knowing anything about his regular life, his life that didn’t include her, Harlow couldn’t picture him anywhere but in her bed or Bale’s—both places she’d slept with him.

  As far as she was aware, he was alive. That was what she told herself anyway. Letting her mind run wild with other possibilities would drive her insane. Coming to terms with the fact that she’d never see him again had been harder than convincing herself that Ryske was still breathing, still out in the world… somewhere.

  Having gone out of her way to avoid walking by Floyd’s over the last month, Harlow didn’t expect to be looking at it again that night. Before Ryske, she’d been afraid of the place that her colleagues told her was dangerous. Since meeting the crew who called the bar home, her motivation for avoiding it wasn’t about fear… not for her safety anyway.

  “That place is full of adults,” Gina said. “Criminals. The dregs of the neighborhood. Why would they know where a kid was hiding? Why would they care?”

  “You know why,” Clyde said. “A lot of gang members graduate up into more organized crime, which means those criminals have links to the kids that run errands for them. Felipe talked about wanting to look out for his mom, to provide for her. Martina Soto said if Felipe’s father ever went to prison again, she’d never take him back. So, now, Felipe thinks of himself as the man of the house.”

  That had pretty much been what Harlow had told the police. The notion of a kid feeling responsible for a family saddened her. Clyde seemed more accepting, but that just left her incredulous.

  Resigned and pained in equal measure, Harlow didn’t like Felipe’s vision of the future. “He’s thirteen,” she said.

  Both Clyde and Gina gave her looks containing varying degrees of sympathy and pity. They thought of her as naïve. Maybe she was. Their reactions drove Harlow to raise her chin in defiance. Her opinion was that no thirteen year-old should have to shoulder adult responsibilities, not those equivalent to supporting a whole household. Wavering or shrinking wouldn’t win her respect. She had something to prove in this city, not only to her clients, but her colleagues as well.

  “Doesn’t matter how old he is,” Gina said. “He’s not been showing up to school, and if he wants to earn money, there are plenty of ways he can do that around here.”

  “Illegal ways,” Clyde said. “And if someone wants to earn a quick buck or work a long con, there’s only one place around here for that.”

  He and Gina turned their sights to Floyd’s. Harlow couldn’t work out if Clyde was waiting for Gina’s go ahead, or if Gina was even considering going inside. But, Harlow was about done standing out here in the cold. Dithering wasn’t making progress. She didn’t want to go home without knowing she’d done everything she could to find Felipe. The kid could be in serious trouble.

  All night she’d been sidelined as an observer and hadn’t been allowed to lead conversations or even ask questions. Taking a secondary position, deferring to others, was part of what she’d wanted to get away from both in her personal and professional lives in the suburbs.

  In the city, she had promised herself to be proactive. To take control. To pursue her own path.

  “I’ll go,” Harlow said and took a step toward the curb.

  Gina caught her arm. “Whoa, no. No way. You don’t know what you’re walking into in there.”

  Oh, but she did. Much as she’d vowed never to force herself into Ryske’s life, Maze had said he owed her one and this was about a kid’s life. Someone in Floyd’s could have an answer that would help Felipe.

  Gina had told her to cultivate relationships in the neighborhood. Harlow would never gain anyone’s respect if she kept being afraid of offending others.

  Ryske’s crew might not be like any friends she’d had in the past, but during the two weeks of Ryske’s recuperation, they’d become the closest thing she’d had for a long time.

  “Typically only men hang out in Floyd’s,” Clyde said. “Any women are fair game or connected to a man. So, yeah, uh… either you’re a girlfriend or a hooker.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Harlow said, peeling Gina’s fingers from her arm. “Beats standing out here in the cold.”

  “They’ll tear you apart,” Gina said.

  Clyde at least had the decency to look worried as opposed to Gina who just appeared skeptical. “Anything could happen to you in a place like that. It’s not safe.”

  Harlow smiled. “It was your idea, Clyde,” she said. Her colleagues weren’t moved. She sighed. “Look, I’ll go in and if I’m not back in a half hour, come and find me.”

  Asking the Floyd’s guys about Felipe was meant to help the youngster. Harlow wasn’t prepared to advertise her connection to them for fear her boss would assume she could just go in and ask for favors all the time.

  Having connections was one thing, exploiting them was another.

  For the sake of the kids who she might need to support in the future, Harlow had to be careful about asking for help and ensure she didn’t do it too often.

  Clyde bowed forward in shocked opposition. “A half hour? How about we wait ten minutes?”

  “It will take me that long to find the bar,” she said, omitting the fact that she actually knew something about the layout of Floyd’s. “And another ten to fend off whichever drunk hits on me before I get any chance to talk to someone who might be able to help.”

  “Twenty minutes,” Gina said, taking a step back. “I think this is a bad idea.”

  That didn’t take a rocket scientist. Gina may have been hoping Harlow would chicken out or fall on her face. Didn’t matter, Harlow wasn’t going to lose her determination.

  10

  Turning away from her colleagues, Harlow checked four ways for traffic and headed to the bar, trying not to think about the adjoining street where Ryske had slithered down the wall and passed out. The last time, her first time, in Floyd’s was something of a blur, even though it hadn’t been that long ago.

  Wiping her mind, prioritizing focus, this wasn’t the time to be reliving the traumatic memory of that night. She had to get her poker face on.

  Harlow had never played poker, but when she walked through the corner doors
of Floyd’s and paused to let her eyes adjust, she thought she did an okay job of keeping her expression blank. It wasn’t easy. Dozens of eyes scrutinized her. The place was packed. Music played on the jukebox, loud, but not as loud as the conversation filling the room.

  The wooden furniture was painted black, just like the floor. There was wood paneling up half the walls that matched the color of the bar, which, although it was chipped and scratched, was still glossed enough to have a dull shine. Opening a hand on it when she got there, Harlow made a mental note to compliment Dover for taking care of it.

  None of the stools matched, but neither did any of the tables and chairs. If what she’d heard about Floyd’s was accurate, there were fights in there almost every night. Replacing individual items probably made more sense than refitting the whole establishment every time a table was cracked or a chair smashed.

  The first man she noticed behind the bar wasn’t one she recognized. Vigilance prickled the back of her neck. Coming in under the assumption that Ryske’s crew would be around might have been a mistake. If they weren’t, she was a chicken who’d just wandered into a packed foxhole and from the looks of it, these foxes were hungry.

  Lingering for a moment before taking a seat, Harlow was reconsidering whether or not this was a good idea. Just then, a familiar face walked around the curve of the bar. Dover. He didn’t immediately notice her, he was too busy frowning at his patrons, probably wondering what had them so fascinated.

  Relieved that her bold move hadn’t been a bust, Harlow took the opportunity to slide onto a stool, acting like she hadn’t doubted her decision to come for a moment.

  A second familiar face came around the corner; this one on her side of the bar rather than behind it. Noon. Harlow didn’t focus on him. Instead, she looked past the unfamiliar bartender who was heading toward her, and fixated on Dover whose attention was drifting her way.

  Dover was almost upon her by the time he noticed she was there. Seeing him smile was encouraging. The unknown bartender asked if she wanted a drink, but she ignored him. Dover did too.

  “It’s about time you came home, babe,” Dover said, nodding his worker-bee out of the way. The guy did a double take, but did as told and scurried off. “I should dock your allowance, Nightingale.”

  Not only a smile, but a tease too. That was big praise and such a relief. “Does that make you my daddy?” she asked, broadening the curve of her lips.

  The man sliding onto the stool by hers paused halfway on and off. “Uh, I don’t think I was supposed to hear that,” Noon said.

  Slipping a familiar hand onto his thigh, a friendly pat completed their reunion.

  “Why?” Dover asked. “You afraid to admit that makes you her stunted little brother?”

  There was no more than a couple of years between the men, but Noon was a lot less mature and more impulsive than business owner Dover.

  Heading them off before they could descend further into playing, Harlow was aware of her clock and put both forearms on the bar to bring herself closer to it. “Am I allowed to be in here?”

  Dover put both hands on the bar. “Any guy who doesn’t remember your performance the last time you were here, is probably just impressed that you had the balls to walk in at all. You won’t get into any trouble, babe.”

  “Yeah,” Noon said, swigging from the beer bottle he must have brought with him. “Chick like you classes up the joint.”

  “Which is probably exactly what your clientele doesn’t want,” she said and raised a shoulder in apology. “No offense.”

  Dover laughed. “You think I confuse this place for a fancy Manhattan wine bar? Forget about it, Nightingale. We got what we like and we like what we got.” She loved that philosophy. “What do you wanna drink?”

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t. I just came in for—”

  “He’s not here,” Noon said, turning to Dover. “We could buzz Maze, but—”

  “I’m not looking for Ryske,” she said. Whatever their assumptions about the why, Harlow didn’t insult the men’s intelligence by pretending she didn’t know who they’d assumed she was looking for. Seeing their expectation made her cringe. “Maze is the one I want to talk to actually.”

  “Your computer broken?” Noon asked, puffing up a little. “I’m okay with electronics.”

  Dover scoffed. “Yeah, if that were true, what would we need Maze for? Oh wait, I forgot, you’re an asshole. Always handy to have one of those around.”

  The way they beat up on Noon was always in good fun. In secret, the crew adored him. But, her maternal side was always stirred when the others poked at him, even in spite of Noon being older than her.

  “I don’t think you’re an asshole,” she said, picking up Noon’s arm to put it around her. “I think you’re adorable.”

  “Yeah, see, I’m adorable,” Noon said, pulling her closer while making a face at Dover. She didn’t see it, but Dover repaid Noon in kind.

  “Puppies are adorable,” Dover said. “She thinks you’re a pathetic slobbering mutt who’s not smart enough to know where to piss… Hmm, guess she does know you.”

  Ignoring Dover, Harlow put her head on Noon’s shoulder. “I was thinking about you earlier,” she said.

  “No kidding?” Noon said. “You want to come upstairs with me, Nightingale?”

  Dover blanked his face. “No women allowed upstairs. And, you do know Ryske would kill you dead if you tried it, right?” he asked Noon. “With his bare hands, you’d just be dead.”

  Ryske had told her what was under Floyd’s floor, not what was above. “What’s upstairs?” she asked, curious about why women weren’t allowed and why Ryske would have a problem with Noon taking her there.

  “Among other things: beds.”

  Harlow could only laugh. She didn’t believe for a second that Noon would ever make a move on her.

  “I wasn’t thinking that,” Noon said. “Thought I could order the lady some Chinese food. Wait with her for Maze.”

  Dover wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, and liquor her up.”

  “I really can’t stay to get drunk,” she said and checked her watch. “Or at all really… will Maze be around tomorrow?”

  “He’ll be around tonight,” Dover said. “Just doing a recce. He should be back any minute.”

  A recce? Reconnaissance? Harlow wasn’t going to ask. At least wherever they were, Ryske and Maze were together. Should help if anyone thought to stab one of them.

  “Is this a computer specific problem?” Noon asked.

  “No,” she said. “He just always said to me that he’d feel better when his debt was paid.” Appealing to them both, she ensured to make eye contact. “I never considered what happened with Ryske a debt, you know that. But I need help and—”

  “If one of us has a debt to you, we’re all on the hook for it,” Dover said, bending down to rest both forearms on the bar. Noon got closer too. Harlow realized she was enveloped in the covert huddle of Ryske’s crew. Well, half of them anyway. She was in the coveted and privileged huddle. In it. “Why don’t you fill us in?”

  She didn’t have a lot of time, her colleagues could walk in any second. If she went out there to say she got nothing and set nothing in motion, Harlow would lose respect not gain it. Though surviving in Floyd’s should score her some points… in theory.

  She took a deep breath. “I—”

  “Wait,” Dover said and turned around to duck down.

  When he got back up, he was pouring chilled white wine into a glass.

  Smiling, Harlow accepted the drink and took a sip. “How much wine do you serve in here?” she said, licking her lips and nodding in approval. “It’s good.”

  “Got it just for you. We knew you’d be back…” Wow, she was stunned. Not only that he’d ordered something for the bar for her, but that they’d had faith. In the time since she’d last seen Ryske, Harlow had assumed the crew had forgotten about her. Apparently they hadn’t. “Tell us your story, Nightingale,” Dover said,
leaning close again.

  Getting over her surprise, Harlow was quick about filling them in. Knowing that there wasn’t much time, she gave them the cliff notes version.

  “So, basically,” she said, having brought them up to speed. “I need to know if this kid is in trouble. No, let me rephrase. I know he’s in trouble, I just need to know how deep.”

  Neither man spoke, but she recognized the solemn expression they exchanged. “You came to the right place,” Dover said.

  Hope made her sit up straighter. “You know where he is?”

  Noon shook his head. “No, but we will within twenty-four hours.”

  Dover was confident too. “We’ll come to yours with what we find. It’s safer.”

  Alarm struck her. “I thought you said I was safe here.”

  “Here you’re golden,” Dover said. “Especially with us around.”

  Noon leaned in to bump his shoulder on hers. “And at least one of us is always around Floyd’s.”

  “But getting here isn’t as safe,” Dover explained. “You know what this neighborhood is like more than most outsiders.”

  After what she’d gone through with Ryske. The acknowledgment that she had some experience was the most respectful thing anyone had said to her that month. Funny that the criminals should be kinder than the non-criminals.

  Now that she was in Floyd’s, Harlow was enjoying herself. Just spending a few minutes with Dover and Noon had been more fun than a whole night with her work colleagues. It made her realize that she didn’t want this to be the last time she was ever there.

  “I don’t mind visiting,” Harlow said.

  “You haven’t visited until now,” Noon said. “What took you so long, Nightingale?”

  Dover cleared his throat and she caught him shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want us to come to you?” he asked when he noticed her peering at him.

  Still curious, she just shook her head. “I want to visit… Unless you think someone will have a problem with me being here?”