Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1)

by Scarlett Finn

  Something made her cup his jaw and turn to steal his mouth with her own. Maybe she just needed the comfort of his kiss, or maybe she wanted to remind him that he was allowed to do more than just kiss her hair. As proved by them writhing together on the couch earlier, he had access to more intimate parts of her.

  Their eyes met after the kiss and without meaning to, she’d conveyed the latter message. His arm descended on her back until he was holding her hip and he pulled her closer, deeper onto his lap. Harlow moved her forehead to his, but he tipped his head back, rolling their mouths closer so they could kiss again.

  “We figure out what changed there yet?” Dover asked.

  Harlow was too interested in caressing Ryske and enjoying his kiss to worry about what Dover was saying. “Still refusing to come home with me?” she murmured, rubbing Ryske’s chest. “Don’t want it now I’m not putting up a fight?”

  “Oh, I want it, baby,” he said, his hand snaking under her shirt to cup her ass. “And, I’m going to take it too.”

  That was poetry. A shiver joined her smile and she kissed him again, unable to restrain herself.

  “She can’t go home,” Maze said.

  That comment made her kiss slow.

  “No,” Dover said. “It’s not safe.”

  “Not until we know why Hagan went after her.”

  Harlow broke the kiss and twisted to glare at the guys. “I can go home. I know why he came after me.”

  “Why?” all of them asked.

  Touching her finger to the center of Ryske’s chest, she made eye contact with each of the other men.

  “Ryske?” Noon asked.

  “Clyde,” she said, curling her fingers until her fist was resting on Ryske’s chest. “Hagan’s man saw how this guy reacted to Clyde downstairs.”

  “And, less then twenty-four hours later, he had you under lock and key,” Dover said, thumping the side of his fist on the table. “Damnit.”

  “So, that’s why he was taunting me with you,” Ryske said. “He wanted me to react.”

  She shrugged. “Guess he didn’t bank on Ophelia distracting you.”

  Harlow hadn’t asked about Anwen. She would. But she’d ask Ryske when they were alone, assuming that he’d give her a more honest answer without his crew scrutinizing him. Though, if she didn’t feel she was getting the full truth, she would go to Dover or Maze. Noon would be a good source of information too, and he did tend to be more forthcoming. But he’d also be likely to tell Ryske she was prying.

  “Distracting Ryske is Ophelia’s favorite pastime,” Maze muttered, but seemed to be contemplating something else.

  All of the men were lost in their thoughts. Seeing them at work while not saying a word was odd. Each of them was making plans and trying to figure things out for themselves.

  Turning her focus to Ryske, Harlow stroked his torso again and rested her face against his jaw. She hadn’t told him about her conversation with Ophelia at the bar either, not just the Anwen bit, but the part where Ophelia had accused her of being in love with him. That same conversation had led Harlow to making some assumptions of her own about Ophelia’s feelings.

  It had been a long week and now that she was safe, exhaustion began to creep in. There were still so many unanswered questions, like what the million apiece was supposed to be for, and how Parratt and Yarker fitted into the equation.

  “Are you going to call her?” Noon asked.

  Ryske lost his hand in her hair, cupping the back of her skull. “Ophelia? Nah, not tonight. Tomorrow, maybe Monday.”

  “Always leave ‘em wanting more,” Noon said as though it was a line he and Ryske had used before, or maybe one Ryske had taught him.

  That same sound of someone socking someone else made Harlow peek from the corner of her eye.

  Noon was rubbing the back of his head, and Maze’s hand was hovering just above it. “You think Ryske wants you saying shit like that in front of his girlfriend?”

  “Is she his girlfriend?” Dover asked.

  “What does that mean for the job?” Noon asked.

  Three pairs of expectant eyes landed on her. Those were the ones she could see. At her side, she could feel expectation coming from Ryske too. These four men expected her to figure this out? Alone?

  Harlow didn’t know anything beyond her attraction and her feelings for the man at her side.

  “I have no plans to steal Ryske away from you,” she said, beginning to feel awkward enough about what they wanted from her that she pushed away from Ryske to climb onto her feet. “I’m going home… And, I’m keeping your shirt.” Going home in his shirt might seem to be an overstep, but she didn’t want to put Hagan’s dress back on. “Can someone loan me twenty bucks for a cab? I have literally nothing on me.”

  “Trinket,” Ryske said, leaning forward to take her hand. She expected him to reassure her, to say something charming or soothing that would make her feel less self-conscious about their relationship or his friends’ scrutiny of it. Instead, he used his matter of fact expression to shock her. “We’re not gonna let you go home.”

  His thumb began to move on her knuckles, but she was too shocked by his words to let the caress settle her. Seeking the rest of the crew, she found the other three men were wearing the same resolute expressions.

  “You… you’re kidding, right?” Each shook their heads. Harlow snatched her hand away from Ryske to take a step back. “I came here because I trusted you… I told you what happened because I… I thought we were on the same side.”

  “We are,” Ryske said.

  Harlow shook her head. “You can’t say that and then threaten to hold me prisoner.”

  “She can’t go back to work either,” Maze said. “Or contact anyone.”

  Ryske bent over to take his jacket from the floor, where it had fallen after she cast it off. He dipped his hand in his pocket to retrieve something that he then tossed to Maze.

  “I’d guess he’s planted something,” Ryske said.

  Maze turned the item over and over in his hands. Harlow gasped and pointed at him. “Oh my God, that’s my phone! How did you—”

  “Hagan left it on the couch,” Ryske said. She recalled Hagan throwing something and leaving, then Ryske picking up that item as they’d departed. “We can’t be sure it’s secure, Maze will figure it out.”

  Her fists went to her hips. “Let me get this straight. You’re keeping my phone and refusing to let me leave… that’s exactly what Hagan did!”

  Her outrage didn’t affect any of the men’s resolve. “Yeah, but you’ll get sex here,” Ryske said. “Incredible sex.”

  Her lips circled. She laughed and groaned at the same time. “Oh, ho, ho, I doubt that, buddy. I sure wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” she said, swatting his hand away when he tried to touch her thigh.

  “Wow, it is like a real relationship,” Noon said.

  “He doesn’t have to be the one who gives her sex, if it’s only him she’s pissed at,” Maze said.

  After winking at her, Maze’s gaze moved to Ryske, who was probably glaring. Maze winked at him too and then laughed with Noon and Dover joining in a second later.

  “Who should go first?” Dover asked.

  “We could draw straws,” Noon said.

  “Rock, paper, scissors,” Maze said.

  The trio all shifted to bring their fists into a central position like they were really about to play. Ryske jumped in before they could. “Any of you even think about touching her, I’ll castrate you then turn CI.”

  That was another laugh. Dover had said they’d been friends for a long time. Over the years, they’d got up to God only knew what. No doubt they had a lot of dirt on each other and the power to send the others to prison ten times over.

  It might be a joke to them, but Harlow was less amused by their game given that they were threatening her.

  “I don’t know,” she said, relaxing her hip and letting one hand fall to her side. Scanning the amused trio, she pretended
to ponder her options. “I told Ryske I didn’t want promises, which means, technically he can screw around as much as he likes… It can’t be one rule for him and a different one for me. That means I’m still on the market, boys.”

  The three looked around at each other like they didn’t quite know what to do. She was still pouting at them when Ryske snatched her wrist and yanked her down to his side.

  Grabbing her chin, he pulled her face close to his. “I told you what I’d have done to that sap from your office if I’d been carrying a weapon,” he growled.

  Yes, Ryske said he’d have shot Clyde if he’d had a gun.

  “So?” she said, trying to seem unimpressed though his tightening grip on her arm was making it difficult to concentrate. “You’re not going to take down your own team.”

  His brows rose. “Test that theory,” he hissed. “I won’t let another man have you. Any man touches you, and I don’t give a damn if he’s on my crew or not, I’ll slaughter him.”

  “You think I believe that?” she asked, tugging at his hand, trying to free her arm.

  It was useless. He was too strong and damn, if she didn’t find that hot. It was hard to hide her desire.

  He leaned in closer, his teeth clenched. “Test me, Trinket.”

  But, she wouldn’t. Harlow wouldn’t mess around with other members of his crew. That didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to play with him, fun to piss him off, and push his buttons.

  Forcing his mouth over hers, he stifled her with his kiss. Though Harlow objected, she didn’t really pull away. Eventually, he broke the kiss and dropped his hand, so she shoved away and leaped to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  Dover drew in a breath and blew it out. “And, this is why we never had women on the team,” he muttered.

  “Until now,” Maze said in the same tone.

  Noon was the only one grinning. “This is gonna be fun!”

  25

  Resigning herself to her fate, Harlow didn’t argue when she was taken on a tour of the Floyd’s apartment and discovered where the two doors led. One took her to what used to be the master suite. In its place was an extremely messy closet-office. Lined with dressers, rails of clothes and filing cabinets, there was a desk facing into the room under the window and on the opposite wall was a couch in front of the closets.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was the space where the crew dressed and where Dover did all of Floyd’s paperwork.

  The guys had a bed each in the main apartment space, hence the four double beds. Maze had asked her if she was tired, probably as a way to break the tension. Noon had started talking about the curtains that could be pulled around the beds, like this was some kind of hospital ward or something.

  But, she couldn’t say she’d paid much attention. Harlow had explored the messy master, and then come out to storm through the second door into what turned out to be a huge bathroom. At least that room was clean… ish. There was a double vanity, large claw-footed tub, and a shower cubicle that contained only one shower head but was probably twice the size of a typical double-wide stall.

  The pristine tile was beautiful and didn’t match the state of the run down bar beneath the apartment, or the untidy living room it was attached to. Nothing was dirty, certainly not to the level of being noticeable, it just seemed disorganized. But, in that minute, she wasn’t complaining.

  The bathroom door didn’t lock, it didn’t even close properly. Harlow pushed it over as far as it would go and crossed to the vanity. Running her hands through her hair, she took a minute to look at her reflection and breathed out.

  The makeup she’d put on earlier had faded. Her lips were still bright, but that was probably more about the kissing she’d done than the gloss she’d applied at Hagan’s.

  Bending over to splash water on her face, Harlow was pleased to be revitalized by the cool liquid. Nothing could wash away the melancholy of her life. This was it for her now. Harlow hadn’t asked for any of this, but that didn’t matter, she couldn’t ignore it.

  A sound made her peek over her shoulder. Ryske was coming in. He pushed the door into the frame, though it popped back out to hang open more than an inch. He didn’t stop or go back to it, he came over, and sidled up behind her.

  “Good?”

  Harlow just rolled her eyes at his reflection and nodded at the toothbrushes. “Which is yours?”

  Reaching over her, he plucked one from the cup behind the sink. She took it from him to begin brushing her teeth.

  “You know why we’re doing this,” he said, sliding his hands onto her hips. Harlow pushed them away. “We want to protect you, Trink.”

  While she was brushing, she couldn’t respond.

  Finishing fast, Harlow had to bend over to spit and rinse out her mouth. His hands crept onto her hips again and he began to gather up the shirt that protected her body, so that when she stood up, her abdomen was exposed.

  “Mm,” he said, skimming one hand around to her bare stomach.

  Massaging her there, he used the other hand to scoop her hair away from her shoulder, giving him access to kiss and tease her neck.

  Harlow tried to hold onto her anger, but her body was beginning to loosen. She had to grab control fast. Spinning to face him, she pressured his chest meaning to put space between them. Instead of taking the hint and backing off, Ryske got closer, coiling his arms around her to cup her ass and pull her to him.

  “No,” she said, pressing harder. “You can’t do that. You can’t come in here and kiss me like we’re some established couple having a tiff. We are not an established couple; we’re a very un-established couple.”

  But he didn’t seem to hear her assertions. His eyes were heavy and his lips loose. “I could fuck you right here,” he murmured, digging his fingers in deeper. “I want you so bad.”

  That was more expressive than the apathy she’d got from him on the couch. Except she couldn’t let herself feel that expression; she had to use her senses and be strong about resisting his advances. If Harlow gave in, she’d never get her answers, or convey how unhappy she was with the restrictions he and his crew were putting on her.

  “Tell me about Anwen.”

  Ryske’s job involved him being able to absorb any development and go with it as though he’d expected it to happen.

  This time. He failed.

  Harlow wouldn’t describe his expression as straight up shock. It was sort of a mixture of horror and outrage, while at the same time, subdued. Ryske knew he should be hiding his reaction; he just couldn’t manage it.

  He swallowed hard. Part of her did feel bad for cornering him like this. But the other part was determined to start making sense of this mess.

  “Anwen is why he hates me,” he mumbled.

  “Explain it to me…” No response. “Crash?”

  When he opened his mouth, no sound came out. His gaze flicked between her eyes and she recognized for the first time in her life what speechless looked like up close. Holding her silence, Harlow drew her lower lip into her mouth, hoping that he’d be honest with her, that he’d trust her.

  “Fuck!” he exclaimed, making her jump. Shoving away, he marched the width of the room to stop by the bathtub. “That prick couldn’t fucking resist.”

  Pacing the length of the bath, he ended up facing the wall in the space between the head of the tub and the shower stall. Placing both hands against the tile, he let his head droop between his straight arms.

  Whoever this Anwen woman was, she meant something to him, or he felt something for her. There were so many possibilities, but one quickly came to the front of the pack.

  “You love her,” Harlow said, propping herself against the vanity.

  “That what he told you?” he grumbled.

  “Ophelia.”

  Another jab of shock. Spinning around, he locked his focus onto her. “Ophelia? How much time did you spend with her?”

  “None,” she said. “I met her for the first time tonight.�
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  He took a step toward her. “What did she say?”

  Harlow shook her head and a finger. “Oh, no, Crash, this is your turn. I’m asking the questions. Who was she?”

  “Hagan’s fiancé,” he said and swallowed again.

  This made him uncomfortable. Harlow couldn’t say she was desperate to hear about Ryske being intimate with other women, but they needed this. To be together, they had to start getting past the raw attraction and focus on building trust.

  Theirs would have to be deeper than most typical relationships because she’d have to hold onto her faith in them while watching him going out there to run cons. If Harlow couldn’t believe that what he did for work meant nothing to him and that he’d always come home to her, this would never work.

  “You slept with her.” He nodded. “Why?”

  “She was beautiful.”

  That honest, but basic answer, was a surprise. “That’s it?” she asked. “It wasn’t a job or a con, you just… had to have her?”

  Concerned that it might have been stupid to embark on this conversation while they were in a fight about something else, Harlow hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. Her being restricted from leaving Floyd’s could cause a problem between them in itself without adding the tension of this on top.

  Difficult as this might be for both of them, she’d put off getting answers too many times. Harlow had to listen to the uncomfortable truths. This was just the beginning; she doubted this was close to the last of the awkward revelations she’d have to hear. It would be good practice for her poker face.

  “Hagan was running an auction,” he said. “It was stupid. The money he raised was going to his newest property development, so it was going to him. It wasn’t charity. The biggest donor was allowed to name the building that was in a prime position by the river next to the museum.”

  “When was this?”

  “ ‘Bout two years ago,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We were tangled with these people and had donated a piece we needed to fence. It was a fake, but a good fake; gave us credibility in the crowd. Anyway…” Sucking in a long breath, he blew it out before continuing. “An associate of ours was interested in the sister lot and had a buyer on standby. The opportunity fell into our lap while we were in the middle of another job… it was a favor for a friend. We’re not jewel thieves by nature. When we do get into that, we’re more old-fashioned about it. You know, smash and grab… subtle, sophisticated smash and grab.” He might have been making a joke but didn’t crack a smile. “We had an investor at that event… a mark… Gil Parratt.” The distorted-glass window by the shower was tall and skinny. It wasn’t possible to see through it, but he looked that way anyway. “That was the night I met Anwen.”