Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1)

by Scarlett Finn

  Dover opened the door and led her through. Harlow held her breath, wondering what would be inside.

  In the opposite corner was a curtain covering a gap in the wall. Thick and red, it was nothing like her crystal beads. The light was low. It originated from the TV on a unit against the back wall. Couches were arranged around a coffee table in front of it. This seemed to be some kind of den.

  There was another door to the right, but when her eyes caught on the sight of a figure sitting up straighter on the couch, she was intrigued enough to move closer. Letting her eyes adjust, Harlow registered a mop of dark, possibly black hair atop the head of someone watching the TV. This was none of Ryske’s crew; it wasn’t even a man.

  “Felipe?” she asked, hurrying around the couch to see more of the kid’s profile.

  He turned and grinned when he saw her. “Miss Sweeting,” he said and held up the remote control. “Man, you have some cool friends.”

  “I have some…” Shock made her look from the exuberant teen to Dover who was still by the door. “What the… how did you?”

  “Yeah, we found the kid,” he said, heading for the couch and giving the kid a shove so he had space to sit down. “Turn that off.”

  Felipe did as told and turned off the TV. “Yes, sir.”

  Dover turned on a lamp. Harlow was relieved and surprised and taken aback. “Felipe, your mom—”

  “We took him to his mom tonight,” Dover said. “She was damn relieved to see him.”

  “Embarrassed me,” Felipe mumbled, slouching against the back of the couch. “She was crying and everything.”

  “That’s because you scared her,” Harlow said, propping herself on the arm of the couch, facing him. “You scared us all. What were you thinking running off like you did?”

  “I wanted to take care of my mom,” Felipe said. “I’m the man of the house. Last time my dad went to jail, Mr. Clyde said I had to be strong, to man up and stay with my mom until my dad got back. But, this time, my mom said she’s not taking him back, no way. So, we can’t afford to wait. I needed to earn some money.”

  It might be useful to have Clyde there for support. But Dover hadn’t invited her colleague to join them. This was a private space, not part of the public bar. Noon hadn’t come with them either. Under other circumstances, she might assume he was working the bar, but she speculated to herself that he might have been tasked with keeping Clyde under watch.

  Clyde was a grown man and shouldn’t be in physical danger with Noon. Felipe was the problem right in front of her. She decided to deal with him and then worry about Clyde. As long as Maze kept Ryske away from her colleague, he should be fine.

  “But, Felipe, where were you? I don’t understand what—”

  “Let’s not get into that,” Dover said, with a quick shake of his head. “We talked to his momma, and she’s gonna call off the dogs tomorrow.”

  Nice as it was that the crew had calmed Felipe’s mom, it wasn’t enough just to flash the kid around for a night, and then let him vanish again.

  This kid needed a long-term care plan and ongoing support. “Felipe, you have to go to school. I know you think that it’s your responsibility to earn money for your mom, but—”

  “He’s going to go to school,” Dover said. “It’s one of the rules.”

  At a loss, Harlow didn’t want to stutter again, but found herself confused. “The… rules?”

  “He goes to school, does his homework, and respects his mom. If he does all that, we’ll let him come over here and make a few bucks. Weekends, he’ll do errands, chores, fix up the furniture, whatever we say.”

  Felipe was eager. More than eager. “Yes, sir, Mr. Dover, sir,” he said and nodded. “Whatever you say.”

  “Good, kid. Now scram. Go ask Noon to take you home to your momma. Tell him to take the chump with him.”

  Felipe surged to his feet, but faltered. “The… the who?”

  “He’ll know,” Dover said and lifted his hips to take out his wallet. Thumbing out a few bills, he stuffed them into the kid’s hand. “Be back tomorrow on time. On time or the gravy train will be gone, you get it?”

  Felipe nodded. “I should speak to Mr. Ryske before I—”

  “Mr. Ryske is busy,” Dover said. “I’ll tell him you left. Now get out.”

  Felipe offered her another smile before dashing out of the room to head for the bar.

  For a few seconds, Harlow just sat stunned by what had happened. “I can’t believe you—”

  “I didn’t. Ryske did,” Dover said, standing up. “Soon as him and Maze heard you’d been in and what was wrong, he hit the streets. He found the kid, brought him back, cleaned him up…”

  “Where was he?”

  “Exactly where you didn’t want him to be,” Dover said.

  Harlow had feared Felipe had been taken in by a gang who’d exploit him or sell him on to one of the organized crime syndicates who specialized in much more depraved dealings. That Dover didn’t go into details was either to spare her or Felipe. Whichever it was, she was glad Dover hadn’t discussed it in front of the youngster.

  “You rescued him.”

  Dover closed one eye in a sort of subdued wince. “Ryske won’t like that description, but… yeah, I guess… The kid is right, he’ll need to earn money. His aunt’s pregnant and just moved in with them. The three of them have no one else.”

  This was a different world. The kids in her old suburban division wouldn’t be thinking about supporting two women and a baby, but Harlow had left that world behind.

  Gratitude and wonder filled her. “So you gave him a job here,” she said, sliding off the arm of the couch to sit on the seat. “Shit, Dover, I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s no picnic here. We won’t let him serve or work out on the floor when we’re open. There’s plenty of other stuff to keep him busy… But, babe, if the gangs want him it’ll be hard to keep them away. They’ll offer more money and more excitement… something he’ll want more of as he gets older and sees his friends allying themselves with that shit.”

  Smiling, she raised a fist to her temple for support, propping her elbow on the backrest. “You don’t think your little posse is a gang?”

  Dover wasn’t moved. “We don’t go around shooting people because they wear colors different to ours.”

  Recalling how she’d gotten involved with this bunch erased her smile. “No, they just stab you and leave you for dead.”

  “That’s not exactly an everyday thing,” he said with a loose half-shrug.

  Opening the hand that had been in a fist on her temple, she rested her palm on the top of the couch and let it slide down. The lives of Ryske and his crew were dangerous, she’d always respected that, understood it. At least as much as someone on the outside looking in could appreciate it.

  They’d helped her, maybe saved a kid. A lot had been on her mind over the last month. Something in this moment made her want to share.

  “I’ve been worried about him for a month,” she said. “I had no idea if he was dead or alive.”

  They’d been discussing Felipe. But when she made eye contact with Dover, she could see that he understood she’d moved on to talk about someone else.

  “You could’ve come over.”

  Shaking her head, she let out a sigh. “If he wants her, he’ll go get her… that’s what Maze said the night we met.”

  Clarity crossed Dover’s features. “You’ve been waiting for him to come to you.”

  Had she? Harlow didn’t know. Putting words to all the thoughts she’d had over the last month was near impossible because they’d been so conflicting and had pulled her every which way.

  Squinting at the back of the couch, she stroked it again, and shook her head. “No, no, I… I know it would never work between us. I wouldn’t have anything to offer him… He didn’t really want me anyway. I was just… there.” Confusion and exasperation were making her words run away from her. “That’s what I said at the time, and I was r
ight… I shouldn’t even be thinking about him like this.”

  Behind her, from the edge of the room, a deep masculine voice interrupted. “Like what?”

  Twisting fast, she saw Ryske standing alone in front of the red curtain.

  Dover stood up, straightening his jeans. “I’ve got a bar to run, clean up after yourselves.”

  14

  Righting her position on the couch to put her feet flat on the floor, Harlow listened to Dover depart the room and close the door. Now they were alone. Alone. Being by herself with Ryske had not been part of the plan. Nothing ever went to plan where he was concerned.

  Go with it. That’s what Noon had said. Though this may not have been exactly what he meant, she went with it, even in spite of her nerves sparking and fizzing with a vengeance.

  Ryske began to cross toward her. Spreading her hands on her thighs, Harlow flattened her skirt and kept her eyes on the low coffee table a couple of feet from her knees.

  She expected him to go past her, to take a seat on the couch where Dover had been. Instead, he stopped in front of the arm she’d been perched on a few minutes ago and offered a flat hand.

  “Come upstairs with me.”

  Noon had invited her upstairs; Dover had told her what was up there: beds.

  Tipping her head back, Harlow tried to decipher if the beds were what he was suggesting. In bed with Ryske again, she’d never thought… It would never stop at watching movies or fingernails on tattoos.

  It may have been a month since she’d seen him, but she straight away recognized the purr of seduction in his voice and the heavy drowsiness in his eyes was unmistakable.

  He was thinking about sex. He was always thinking about sex.

  “Nothing has changed,” she said, stemming his seduction before it reached full steam.

  Resisting his persistence might not be so easy with him at full health. Harlow had to hold on to the reasons she’d refused before. No matter how much she wanted to begin a torrid affair, or how much he claimed to want her, nothing had changed since they’d decided not to be together a month ago.

  Like it was enough, he contradicted her. “You’re here, Trink.”

  Just sharing the same air wasn’t enough, Harlow had told him that already. “Yeah, I am,” she said and stood up. “I came here to help a kid and you…”

  “Gave him a chance,” he said. “The kid is good, we won’t corrupt him.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  A smug kind of teasing grin rose on his loose lips. “I’m using him to impress you. Grateful enough to lose your panties?”

  “Crash,” she exhaled, shaking her head. He didn’t let her retreat or scold; he moved closer, so close that she could feel the beat of his heart. Being strong was easier when there was some illusion of space between them. Any thread of strength left her voice. “Don’t, Crash.”

  “I’m teasing, Trink,” he murmured. “I’m teasing you.” Which only lessened her resolve. Vulnerability made her chin dip, but he caught it on a single-digit caress. “I have nothing for you.”

  Her heart screamed, caught between desperation and melancholy. Somehow, her hands found their way onto his chest. “I don’t know what that means.”

  His arms began to settle around her. “Promises. The future. Plans. All those things that mean something to you… I have nothing to give.”

  “I know,” she said, filled with the urge to reassure him. Smiling made it easier to relax. Harlow just couldn’t be near this man without being happy. “You are exactly what you’re supposed to be, exactly who you are. I don’t want that man to change… It would break my heart if you changed.”

  Her ease wasn’t contagious. Tension thrummed through him. She read it in the mixture of pain and hunger on his face. “If I don’t, I’ll never taste you.”

  Oh, he knew how to provoke her heart and her hormones. A coil of need swirled in her belly like a whirlpool growing in an ever-lengthening string, circling down and down until it anchored itself between her legs.

  “I want to be your plaything,” she confessed. “But you’ll only break my heart.”

  “I know.”

  Another shot of honesty. If it wasn’t enough that just being near to him, feeling him, smelling him, touching him, got her hot and made her lose her senses. He also insisted on giving the most arousing thing a man could give: the truth.

  “I don’t want to break you, any part of you, but… I can’t get you out of me. You’re in my blood,” he said and peered deeper into her eyes as his arms fell from around her. “How did you do this to me, Trink?”

  His arms bulged, telling her that he was balling frustrated fists at his sides. While she couldn’t take her gaze away from his, she could offer comfort by dropping her hands from his chest to curl them over his fists, urging them to relax so he could lace their fingers together.

  “Shh, Crash,” she soothed. “We have this… this way we make each other feel. It’s not going anywhere.”

  “That’s the goddamn problem,” he snapped, yanking his hands free of hers. Turning his back on her, he stalked toward the curtain, stopping a couple of feet from it. “Shit, Trink, I knew I wanted you… but when I saw you out there tonight, and that guy, with his hands on you…” His hands fisted again, but that was nothing to the way he grinded his teeth in a show of hatred and rage. “If I’d had a gun, I’d have put a bullet in him.”

  “Don’t say things like that!” Marching over, she went around him, making him look at her. “You are not going to commit any crimes for me.” His scowl deepened. “Not for me, Crash.” She shook her head. “No.”

  Snatching her arms, he forced her body against his. “You want to know what I learned tonight?”

  Licking her lips, she tried to control her anxiety. Controlling her need was harder. The two warred within her. Only the former stopped her from giving into the latter. “What?”

  Bowing lower while pulling her higher, he hissed the truth in her face. “There’s no damn thing you couldn’t drive me to.”

  Rushing her backwards, he slammed her to the wall and lunged down, aiming for her mouth.

  Grabbing for his shoulders, Harlow fought to hold him back. “I’m scared.”

  His brow strengthened. “Of me?”

  “This won’t end with a kiss,” she panted, frantic and desperate.

  “No,” he said, catching her wrists to squeeze them in his possessive grip, urging them to the wall on either side of her head. “But it’s gonna start with one.”

  He was a fool if he didn’t know this had started six weeks ago. Even while he’d been bleeding to death, she’d felt the spark between them. Controlling this was on her. Only her. He’d live in abandon if she let him. But she couldn’t let him.

  Shaking her head, Harlow turned her face down so he couldn’t reach her mouth. “I can’t, Crash. I just… I can’t…”

  In frustration, he let her go and punched the wall above her head, making her jump. The power of his infuriation pulsated through him, heating the air around them.

  Shoving away from her, he strode to the couch then spun, opening his arms. “What the fuck do you want, Trink? What the fuck can a guy like me give you? You want a promise? Why the fuck would you want to tie yourself to a guy like me? You should be begging for a promise that I won’t fall for you, a promise that I won’t force you to be with me. You should want the promise of here and now. The promise that we have no future.”

  “Why?” she demanded, pushing off the wall.

  “Because I’m a crook!”

  “That’s one thing about you, Crash, and it was never the thing that meant the most to me.”

  “What was it then, huh?” he asked without disguising his skepticism.

  “You opened your eyes, you looked at me…” Slowing her breathing, she calmed herself as she tiptoed toward him, finding her control. “You wanted to know if I’d been hurt… You didn’t ask about yourself, didn’t ask if you were going to be okay or what damage had been done to
you or even for the doctor… You asked about me.”

  No one had ever cared about her like that. Ryske had given her honesty and it had revealed so much of him to her.

  “Didn’t I ask if the sex was good first?”

  Pressing her lips together, she nudged him. “Crash,” she chastised in a whisper.

  Since he’d walked out on her a month ago, she hadn’t been able to make sense of her feelings or her thoughts about him. But staring into him now, Harlow felt grounded, anchored, and suddenly, it all made sense.

  Putting aside the teasing, he became more serious. “You think I care,” he muttered.

  “I know you care,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. Being near to him, touching him, was a pleasure she wanted to take advantage of, even if she couldn’t go as far as she wanted to. “And, yes, you’re a crook. You’re a conman and a liar.” She smiled. “But you don’t lie to me.”

  Though he rested both hands on her waist, he raised his chin to look down his nose at her. “I should. Maybe if I did, I’d have had you naked by now.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “If naked was all you wanted from me, you would’ve lied. Just like you said before. You’d have told me what I wanted to hear, and you know what, Crash? I’d have lapped it up because it would’ve given me the excuse I needed to let this happen. But, you didn’t, because you don’t only want me naked, you want my respect. You want my heart.”

  A quirk of amusement followed. “Sure of yourself, aren’t you, Little Trinket?”

  Harlow had to laugh. He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. He’d told her that he couldn’t lie to her. Maybe he hadn’t realized the reason that he felt that way, but he had figured out that she was different. He’d confessed that he couldn’t make her promises because it bothered him he wouldn’t be able to keep them.

  “Do you think that this would be done if we’d had sex already?” she asked. “Would you be over me if I’d just given in?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Want to try it and see?”