The guys jeered, making comments on Ryske’s long list of exes and how he’d been with women who seemed to like all sorts.
Dover turned toward her, bringing her into a mini-huddle. “You need something, Nightingale?” he asked. “Problem upstairs?”
“No,” she said. “Can I borrow Felipe tomorrow? We’re going to organize your paperwork.”
He circled his arms around her, letting them hang loose behind her as his fingers linked. “The kid’s not allowed upstairs.”
“We’ll do it in the den,” she said and widened her smile to a pout. “If that’s okay with you.”
“That pouty thing might work with Ryske, but I know it’s not going anywhere for me,” he said and she raised her shoulders in a shrug, making him smile. “But, I guess… it is pretty to look at. You can have the kid.”
“Thank you.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, his touch was like that of a big brother. “That it? You should go back upstairs. Ryske and Maze are still out. Noon will be back in a while.”
Doing whatever it was they did when they were out at night, as they frequently were. “I want to help,” she said, inspecting the bottles behind the bar. “Let me work.”
His brows almost shot off the top of his head. “What the… You want to work the bar?”
Grinning, she nodded. “Or I can serve.”
“Floyd’s has never had table service,” he said. “And, I’m here on my own tonight. You think I want to take the risk of you out there where hands can wander?”
Big brotherly and protective. That may have had something to do with his friend’s reaction last time a man outside the crew had touched her.
“Hands don’t worry me,” she said. “If I get in trouble, I’ll go upstairs.”
“You’ll cause a riot.”
Clyde wouldn’t be showing up again. There would be no need for anyone else to be near enough to cause a problem for Ryske. “I promise not to flirt,” she said, biting her lip, wishing he’d agree. Though it looked like he might be coming around, he wasn’t there yet. “I can pour drinks back here if you want…” Letting go of him, she ran a finger along a bunch of bottles. “I’ve never worked bar. You can teach me.”
Obviously that idea was more attractive to her than it was to him. “Table service sounds great,” he said, taking her waist to pull her away from the bottles. “Go find yourself something to write on in the store room, and get out there.”
Excitement made Harlow squeal. Bouncing up, she grabbed his neck so she could pull him down to kiss him. Giving her something to do might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’d always rather be busy than twiddling her thumbs.
Working bar in this kind of place hadn’t even been on her radar before meeting Ryske. If she succeeded, and did it well, it could bring her a step closer to being accepted in this world. To have any kind of future, or relationship, with Ryske, she’d have to become a familiar face around Floyd’s. The last thing she wanted was to be the oddity in the corner who no one understood.
Harlow didn’t see herself as superior; her family’s money was insignificant as far as she was concerned. If Maze, whose family were worth a vast amount more than hers, could be accepted around here, there was hope for her. Connecting with people meant something to her and Ryske was giving her the chance to connect with people in his world by opening the door for her.
Their relationship hadn’t been defined and probably never would be. Ryske couldn’t promise himself to her, but she could promise herself to him. Being welcome in his world meant more to her than he could ever know. Working for Dover was just the first step.
Dover hadn’t been wrong about the customers wandering hands, but Harlow had done her best to control, and avoid, them. Anytime anyone thought about doing more than putting a hand on her waist… or her thigh… or her ass, she’d hear someone say something about her seeing Ryske and the hand would disappear. Didn’t take her long to pick up on the trend. Talking about Ryske whenever anyone was getting too close got her away from any close calls.
The bell to signal last call had rung a few minutes ago and although some patrons were still finishing drinks, most were beginning to leave. Harlow gathered up a bunch of dirty glasses and bottles to take them back over to the bar.
Moving around a crowd that were heading toward the door, she saw Ryske and Maze on this side of the bar, leaning over to huddle with Dover who was on the other side. Noon had come back a while ago and taken Felipe back to his mom’s.
She pushed the bottles and glasses onto the bar and crept over to smack Ryske’s ass, taking him by surprise. Grinning, she laughed when he scooped an arm around her waist to haul her against his side.
“Can’t keep your hands off the goods. Can you, babydoll?” he said, sweeping her hair away from her face. “What are you doing down here?”
“I’m your friendly neighborhood server,” she said, stroking his face. “Can I have a kiss? Do we have a mark in the room?”
“Only mark on my agenda tonight is you,” he said and bowed to kiss her.
Curling her fingers into the edges of his jacket, she pressured him down, holding onto the kiss even when he tried to pull away. Slipping a hand to the back of his neck, she held him close, delving her tongue deeper into his mouth.
Her intention had been to show the room that the rumors were true, that she was with Ryske. But she lost sight of that aim when he took her into his arms and reminded her of who she was dealing with by tightening his hold and pinning her to the bar.
In a desperate attempt to hold onto her sanity, Harlow pushed away with both hands and slid out from in front of him. Ryske didn’t let her go far. His arm snaked around her to pick her up and seat her on a stool.
Keeping his arm around her, he propped his hip on the seat between her thighs. “You want to explain to me why my girl is working your bar?” Ryske asked Dover.
“She asked.”
“He’s right,” Harlow said, sliding a hand under Ryske’s jacket to hold herself against him. “I did ask and I’ve had fun.”
“So much fun that you needed me to put my mark on you the minute I got here,” he said and exhaled. “I’m taking you upstairs and we’re not coming down for the rest of the night.”
The night was basically over anyway. Once Dover was done with clean up, everyone would be coming upstairs to chill or sleep. So, Harlow let Ryske take control.
32
Dover handed Ryske a bottle of wine over the bar and Ryske made short work of taking Harlow upstairs to pour her a generous glass.
Propping herself on a stool at the breakfast bar, she drank her wine and watched Ryske open a bottle of beer for himself. “Did you have a productive day?”
“Look, Trink,” he said, coming over to sit facing her on another stool. “I appreciate you chipping in. But it’s probably not safe for you to be working downstairs.”
Protection could only go so far. They couldn’t wrap her in cotton wool. Harlow still wanted to live and Floyd’s was safe for her, of that she was certain.
“I had fun,” she said, guessing that Ryske had avoided her question because he didn’t want to tell her what he’d been doing that day. The change of subject was an obvious deflection. “And no one hurt me. If anyone thought about hitting on me, I told them I was involved with someone.”
Though she’d stopped short of putting any kind of label on it and avoided terms like “boyfriend” or “partner” like the plague.
He smirked. “That wouldn’t stop any of the assholes who come in here.”
Smiling in a semi-pout, she was happy to contradict him. “It did when someone mentioned your name.”
On a shrug, he conceded a fraction of ground. “Yeah, I guess that would work,” he mumbled and slurped from his bottle. “But, Trink, seriously, it’s not the ones who ask that worry me.”
With Dover always within earshot, she couldn’t imagine what Ryske was concerned about. It was nice that he cared enough to be concerned, but if she’d ever
felt unsafe or in danger, Dover was right there.
“I’m not worried,” she said, sliding a hand onto his thigh. “Will you tell me about your day?”
“Nothing to tell,” he said, keeping a hand curved around his beer bottle after propping it on the breakfast bar. “Noon and I took care of some business, got some food, split. Maze and me met up, we took care of some other business.”
That wasn’t informative. Being vague was Ryske’s specialty. Harlow was learning that it paid better not to let him get away with it. “What kind of business?” she asked, and remembered something else she wanted to bring up. “Oh, don’t forget you have to talk to Ophelia tomorrow, make sure she’s not upset.”
“I was with her tonight. We’re good. We made up.”
Ryske had been with Ophelia. Did that mean they’d been alone? And, what did he mean by “made up”? It sent a chill down Harlow’s spine to think about what Ryske might have done with Ophelia Hagan to keep her on side and reassure her about his relationship with the “hooker” her brother had brought to the hotel meeting.
Watching Ryske take another drink of beer, Harlow wondered if she was being paranoid about his lack of eye contact. “Did you talk to her about me?”
“Little bit,” he said, putting his bottle down again. “Babe…” His jaw went one way and his eyes the other. “Why don’t you ask me what you want to know? You want to know if I fucked her.”
He stated it without understanding that couldn’t be further away from what she wanted. “No, actually,” she said, leaping off her stool and walking toward the living room. “The last thing I want to hear about is you sleeping with other women. Did it cross my mind that maybe you had sex with her? Yes. Do I want you to confirm or deny it? No, definitely not.”
Harlow didn’t know what would be worse to hear, his honesty that he had or the potential dishonesty that he hadn’t. What if she didn’t believe him? Even if he hadn’t and told her that the meeting was platonic, there was always a chance that he wouldn’t sell it or she wouldn’t let herself believe it. The lie might be worse than the sex.
“So, what do you want?”
Stopping in front of the couch, Harlow spun around with her arms open to find him sans beer standing at the head of the dining table. “I don’t know, Ryske. Maybe I just don’t like the idea of you talking to other women about me. Or maybe it’s frustrating that Ophelia knows more about what we are than I do.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” he asked, leaping a step in her direction. “And, while we’re at it, what the fuck was that ‘I don’t know what I am with him’ today with Flaxman? What is that? Keeping your options open or do you just enjoy seeing me beat on guys for you?”
The idea she’d encourage Ryske to hurt Clyde was laughable, but cracking a smile was beyond her capability when she was this agitated. “I don’t need you to beat on anyone for me,” she asserted. “But every time, round and round in my head, it hits me. I have no idea what this is.”
“What do you want it to be?”
Her arms ascended again, then flopped to her sides. “I don’t even know the answer to that. I know I’m attracted to you. I know I care about you, but… I know you’ll never be able to be faithful to me. I know you’ll never want to marry me or live with me, so… what can it be?”
Coming toward her, he seemed softer when he picked up her hand. “Special,” he said. “It can be special. It is special.” Scooping a hand around her jaw, he tracked the pad of his thumb back and forth on her cheekbone. “You’re special to me, Trinket. More special than I think any other woman has ever been in my life.”
Covering his hand with hers, she tried to pull it down. The delicacy of his touch was making her forget how important definitions were. “How can you say that? I’m no different.”
“You are different,” he said, edging closer. “Since you’ve been in my life, I haven’t thought about another woman. Sex was never that important to me. I didn’t seek it out, I just took it if it was around. You’ve changed that. You’re smart and sexy. You have morals that make me consider consequences… one consequence anyway… If I touch another woman, you’ll look at me differently. It’ll hurt you… I don’t want to hurt you, Trink.”
Warmth crept into her eyes, which was why she kept her focus pinned on his chest. “But everything else I said was true, wasn’t it?” she asked. “We can’t define this. We can’t have a relationship.”
“Not a traditional one.”
Swallowing hard, she made herself look at him. That might be an explanation he could live with, Harlow needed more. “We can be together, without being together.”
“I can promise you—”
“Don’t,” she said, touching his lips. “I don’t want to be someone who forces you to do anything against your will.”
Taking her hand from his mouth, he flattened it on his chest over his heart. “This will never belong to anyone else. I will do everything in my power to protect you. Whatever it takes, whatever I have to sacrifice, I will make sure that you are shielded from anything that could hurt you.”
“That’s why I’m here,” she said on a sigh, resigned to this being the way it was. “I’m here because you guys want to protect me from Hagan, not because I’m special to you… But Hagan released me, he didn’t put up a fight. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he wants you to be preoccupied with me?”
Ryske was one step ahead. “Yes,” he said. “That’s why I spent the evening distracting Ophelia so Maze could trawl Hagan’s systems. Not only do we know where he’s getting his million from, but he may have contributed to ours too.”
Though he looked proud of himself, fear made her steal her hand back. “Is that smart? You already owe him ten grand. If he finds out—”
“He won’t find out and I won’t tell Maze you just insulted him. He knows how to cover his tracks.”
“I’m worried about you, Ryske. I’m worried about all of you. This is dangerous. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that.”
“This is what we do,” he said, bending his arm to show her the four stars on the back of his forearm, he ran a fingertip down the middle of the row. “Highs and lows until we’re dirt in the ground.”
“I don’t know what they are.”
“One for each of the guys,” he said, touching each of the stars. “I want you to stick around, Trink. I want to add another to the line.”
His finger stopped on the blank space on the back of his wrist. For her, did he mean another star to represent her? “You want me to… I can’t be on your crew.”
“It’s dangerous, like you said, but we’ll keep you safe, baby. You won’t ever be asked to do anything that could hurt you. I… I’ve woken up without knowing where you are, thinking of you, wondering what you’re doing. I don’t want to wonder. I want to roll over and see you’re right there beside me.”
Every morning? That would mean living together. Harlow didn’t know whether to be scared or flattered. All she knew about crime had come from books… and her experience since being with Ryske.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Think about it,” he said as noise from the stairway indicated they were about to have company. “I know what I’m asking you. I know it’s a big decision.”
The rabble got to the top of the stairs. “Hey! We’re gonna get drunk!” Noon called out. “Who’s in?”
Her alone with four men, who were drinking, and not known for their integrity. Harlow smiled and swept Ryske aside while raising her arm. “I’m in.”
“You just walked out?” Noon asked.
Seated in the middle of the couch, Harlow had Noon at one side and Maze at the other. Ryske and Dover were in armchairs that stood in front of the dining table, facing toward the end of Ryske’s bed on the other side of the room.
“Yes,” she said and shrugged, dipping her fingertip in her wine.
“And he told you to keep that?” Noon asked, looking at the diamond engagement ring Dover was inspe
cting. “What do you think it’s worth?”
Harlow opened her mouth to answer, though all she’d been going to say was that she didn’t know. Her voice never made it out of her throat, Dover’s was the one to fill the air. “Platinum setting, cushion cut, very good cut, clarity’s not perfect, but color’s definitely in the colorless range, and it’s around five carats… upwards of seventy, eighty grand.”
Maze whistled. “Nice. It would be a four month op to swipe something like that,” he said.
“Keep it,” she said, leaning forward to pick up the wine bottle only to find it was empty.
“Keep it?” Noon asked, incredulous and excited in equal measure. “For real?”
“What am I going to do with it?” she asked. “Rupert didn’t want it back. I can’t wear it. It’s just a reminder every time I open my jewelry box.”
“A reminder of what?” Maze asked.
After emptying her glass into her throat, she put it on the coffee table. “Of lessons learned.”
Sounded profound when in truth it was just reality. Being with Rupert hadn’t been horrible, but it was an education that she didn’t plan on forgetting.
“You miss him?” Dover asked.
Sitting back, she tucked her feet up on the edge of the couch. “Sometimes,” she said. “We were together for six years… he knew me better than anyone else ever has.”
“Not well enough to know you weren’t interested in being a fifties wife,” Maze said.
She shrugged. “You said your parents wanted the same kind of life for you. I guess it’s not that unusual of an aspiration. It just wasn’t mine.”
“If he won’t keep it, I will,” Noon said, lunging over her to snag the ring from Dover.
His exuberance made her laugh. She was still laughing at him when Dover put an arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest. “What is your aspiration, Nightingale?”
The effects of the wine were making her sleepy. Happy to rest against his solid form, she arched her back and yawned. “To be wild, and crazy, and irresponsible. I want to drink, and party, and have sex in insane places.” She was already grinning, but it was when the other three turned to look at Ryske that she laughed. “I wasn’t propositioning him.”
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