Hagan wasn’t fazed and actually laughed. Not a full body, over the top laugh, just a poised snicker. “After his reaction in Floyd’s last night, I don’t care what label you put on it,” he said. “I know you’re the woman I need.”
Acting like his statement was an advance, she cringed. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend either.”
“I’m a man of means,” he said, raising his hands from the couch to let them flop down at the wrists, presenting the room to her. “I have business interests all over the city. I could be helpful to you in your endeavors.”
“And what endeavors are those?” she asked. “Did you call me here to interrogate me or to seduce me?”
“Why can’t I do both?”
That was an easy one to answer. “You can try to do either. Neither will be successful.”
Drawing in a breath, he considered her for a few seconds before speaking with a new kind of light in his eyes that made her wary. “I do see it. Oh, Ryske does enjoy presenting me with a challenge.”
“Then you should attempt to corral him into coming here and presenting himself. I won’t answer your questions or give in to any advances. Trying to change my mind will be a waste of your time, which I’m sure is valuable.”
“It is,” he said, sitting up to reach for her wine to take a sip. “But time spent with a beautiful woman is never wasted.” He offered her the glass. “I assume you feared drugs or poison, I wouldn’t have drunk either. Now you know it’s safe… In any event, I like an opponent to have their wits. I am far more direct if I choose to eliminate them… as your boyfriend can attest.”
Harlow took the wine and sat back again. The glass was the closest thing she had to a weapon. If this turned ugly, she’d be prepared. If not, she might take courage from the alcohol. Though she’d wait to see if Hagan’s demeanor was changed by the liquid first.
Watching him like a hawk, she tried to spot any signs he could be under the influence of drugs. Except it seemed he was as keen-eyed as ever.
“Why don’t we call him up and ask him?” she said after a moment.
He tilted his head. “Thought you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
Ryske didn’t have that title in her life and probably wouldn’t want it given how things had ended between them the previous night. But if Hagan would let her near a phone to get anyone on the line, Ryske would be the man she’d choose to call. Regardless of how mad he was about what she’d said last night, or how she’d offended him, Harlow didn’t doubt for a second that he’d do whatever it took to make her safe.
That realization took her out of this tense moment and gave her clarity. Finding herself there, in the clutches of the crew’s enemy, Harlow’s perspective began to shift. Ryske wouldn’t make her promises. He wasn’t convinced they could have a future. This setup helped her to understand his point of view. She got it. Hagan conning and cornering her epitomized why Ryske was reluctant to put words to what was between them.
Carrying the weight of his upbringing, Ryske didn’t want to be his father or his mother. He’d made it seem like he didn’t want to commit to her because he wanted to be free. And it wasn’t like either of them could deny that he was independent and a bit of a player. But his aversion wasn’t about any overwhelming desire to play the field. He wouldn’t lie and promise her things that he couldn’t deliver on.
Ryske didn’t want to promise fidelity and build a life with her and then renege… like his mother had done to his father. He didn’t want to tell her he’d be faithful, because once that promise was made, nothing would make him go back on it. Promising himself to her limited his ability to do his job and to support his crew.
Except, somehow, even without the words, Harlow was convinced of his depth of feeling for her. Maybe she couldn’t put language to it, maybe Ryske couldn’t either, but they had an affinity. She meant something to him.
“Is something wrong, Miss Sweeting?”
There wasn’t concern in Hagan’s tone. Instead, it was curious. The question snapped her out of her reflection. “No,” she said, more aware of her man’s psyche than she had been before. With the new clarity, her viewpoint was clearer. “Why don’t we speed this up? Ask me your questions, so I can refuse to answer them and get out of here.”
“If you don’t answer them, you don’t leave.”
A threat. Overdue, but not unexpected. “What if I don’t know the answer?”
“Whether you know the answer or not is irrelevant. Whether I believe you know the answer will decide your fate,” he said, and left the couch to go toward the bar. “Your boyfriend believes him and his little gang own the monopoly in underground activities in this city…” He rounded the bar and paused to make eye contact. “They don’t.”
Hagan had already referenced the bar, so he knew where the crew called home. “I would hardly call Floyd’s a monopoly.”
With his hand halfway toward a bottle, he stalled, and just kept his attention on her. Surprise made the way for scrutiny. “If you’re lying, you’re good at it,” he said. “Your boyfriend, he has connections… Useful connections… widespread connections in areas that are less than… sophisticated. Connections beyond their flea hole of a base.”
Floyd’s was not a classy joint. It was shadowy and sinister, exactly like its clientele, but she wouldn’t call it a flea hole. It was Ryske’s home. His friends had become her friends and she cared about them. Harlow didn’t appreciate this elitist insulting them.
It was difficult to admit how far up her ass her head had been. No man had excited her hormones like Ryske could. Crash was a powerful man; strong, dedicated, and infatuated with her. Why hadn’t she let herself be infatuated with him?
Because she’d feared someone expecting to take over her life and make her decisions. That was why. She should have been honest with Ryske. He was a dominant guy, but she doubted he’d want a mute, obedient housewife who he could impregnate before going off to a typical nine to five.
Ryske was everything Rupert hadn’t been. He was dynamic and cool; a risk taker with an adventurous personality.
Yes, he was a criminal, and that hardly screamed stability. But how he made his living wasn’t the definition of him. Just like she’d said to him on the street last night, his occupation had never been a problem for her. By her nature, Harlow wasn’t a judgmental person. On top of that, she’d been trained not to leap to conclusions or be prejudicial.
People chose their path based on their own personality and desire. It had taken Harlow a long time to come to terms with the truth that she didn’t want the same life her parents had lived.
Children? Maybe she’d want them one day, maybe not. Sure, she was no college kid with nothing but time to while away, but she was sure of what she didn’t want: a normal, traditional life. It followed that if she didn’t want one of those she couldn’t be with a normal, traditional man.
“You keep drifting off,” Hagan said, surprising her with his proximity. She hadn’t even seen him approach, but he was seating himself on the couch with her again, carrying a glass containing what looked like bourbon. “I hope that means I’m getting through to you.”
A light began to grow in her. Priorities shifted, aims realigned. Meeting Ryske had changed her. Until now, Harlow hadn’t faced that. Figuring out the truth of where she was supposed to be, and who she was meant to be with, heated her resolve.
Much as she didn’t usually believe in coincidence, she was coming to the conclusion that Ryske hadn’t run into her by accident. Fate had been watching out for her and forced them into the same space in time.
Pinning her focus to him, Harlow showed no fear, and sipped her wine. “Are you married, Mr. Hagan?”
“Married? No. If you think there will be an interruption to save you, you’ll be disappointed. The only people here work for me and they’re professionals who won’t be swayed by manipulation. They know what they’re doing.”
“Apparently not,” she said. His expression betrayed his confusion. “You’ve admitted that you are not the best; that means your team is not the best.”
His sneer wasn’t one of a threatened man. “Do you think I’m threatened by Ryske and his team?” he asked. “After hearing what happened last night, I believed you had to be integral to his life… I’m reconsidering that theory.”
Crossing her legs, she raised the wineglass to her lips. “Oh, what a shame for me,” she said, without masking her sarcasm.
“I assume your relationship is sexual. When my associate reported Ryske’s vicious reaction to seeing you with another man…”
Clyde in Floyd’s last night. Damnit. Ryske knew that Hagan had men watching him, men positioned in Floyd’s to monitor him. At least that’s what he’d told her while he was still under Bale’s orders. Maybe Hagan had rotated his men and Ryske didn’t recognize whoever had been switched onto the recent Floyd’s duty.
If he thought Hagan wasn’t watching him anymore, he wouldn’t be as careful as he should be.
Still, Harlow couldn’t let Hagan see behind her poised façade. “Ryske’s reaction shouldn’t matter to anyone except me.”
He laughed, swirling his liquor in the base of his glass. “And the man he floored.”
Conceding that with a nod, it just made sense. “At the time, yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s capable of worrying about himself.”
Harlow had gone into work determined to speak to Clyde about what had happened in Floyd’s. As she’d reached his desk, another of their colleagues had called out to say he’d come in early and left again to see a client prior to a court appearance. Court could take all day, she knew that from experience.
Gina had been out of the office that morning too, everyone had visits to make, and the two hadn’t crossed paths. Because she didn’t have his phone number, Harlow had intended to speak to Gina, to find out if the boss would share Clyde’s contact details. Beyond the personal, it would’ve helped her to speak to her colleague before going to visit the Sotos. Though, given her predicament, it seemed none of that was going to happen.
“That’s a callous attitude,” Hagan said, bending to put his glass down. He stayed in that position to rest an elbow on his knee. “Do you like the attention of men, Miss Sweeting? Do you like to string many along?”
So this wasn’t only an opportunity for him to probe her for information on Ryske, he was trying to decipher her too. “You’ll have to be more subtle if seduction is your goal.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer a direct question.”
“If it will speed the process…”
“Are you in love with him?”
With Ryske? That was a question she was only just beginning to answer for herself. But no matter the state of their relationship, or the stage it was at, she had no reason to share her feelings with Jarvis Hagan.
“Whatever is going on between you and him, it’s nothing to do with me,” she said. “I don’t see why I should be compelled to share my personal feelings with you. Is that why you’re holding my phone hostage?”
Leaving the couch, she put her wine on the table.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking up at her.
“I’m leaving,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d return my phone, but if you choose not to, I’ll make a police report.”
Harlow noticed the flare of horror on his face, though she didn’t sense that his reaction was rooted in fear. Offense drove his affront. There probably weren’t many people who would say such a thing to him.
It wasn’t a threat, it was a statement of fact. Harlow couldn’t overpower him and wouldn’t make a fool of herself trying. But something had been stolen from her and she could identify the perpetrator, so why shouldn’t she report the crime?
As she tried to go past him, he leaped up and grabbed her upper arm to halt her. “I can’t let you leave, Miss Sweeting. I won’t.”
“You can’t stop me,” she said. “Unless you plan to keep me prisoner.”
She’d meant for the statement to be so ludicrous that he’d have no choice but to let her walk out. Except, he didn’t flinch. His grip stayed clamped on her arm; his gazed bored into her.
Hagan leaned down. “That’s exactly what I plan to do.”
Spinning around, he strode across the room with purpose, dragging Harlow along in his wake. She tried to pull her arm away, yelping in objection, but he didn’t slow. Passing the bar, he went down the stairs and through the tucked away door.
The space they entered was a curved hallway full of light, floored with the same marble that was in the rest of the apartment.
“Let me go,” she said, fighting to free her arm.
The success of liberation was a short-lived victory. She turned, intending to return to the other room, but came up against a bulky man who had to be some kind of security. He must have been lurking by the door; she hadn’t even seen him, and that was a wonder given his size.
Backing off, Harlow looked left to right, seeking another way out. There were other doors leading from the hallway, but she didn’t know what was behind them. Redemption or rescue seemed unlikely. Looking up, the light that flooded the cavern was coming from a skylight twenty feet above.
She had no way out.
“This way, Miss Sweeting,” Hagan said.
Whirling in the direction of his voice, she fizzed with resentment at the sight of his ease. Holding a door open for her, Hagan gestured for her to go inside a new room.
“Does being polite ease your guilt?” she asked, struggling to contain her rage. “You won’t get away with this.”
His lips curled. “I will… I already have. You’re here. Your boss isn’t looking for you and if your boyfriend comes looking…”
Sweeping his arm toward the room, he tried again to encourage her inside.
Seeing little option, Harlow took a couple of small steps in his direction, giving her mind time to work. “Do you want him to know I’m here? Do you expect him to come and get me?”
If the answer was yes, she might be able to negotiate. Harlow didn’t want Crash anywhere near this man who’d already hurt him once. Taking him out of the running, she considered who else might be able to help. The cops were the obvious choice. Rupert was another, he could come over and maybe embarrass Hagan into releasing her.
His answer gave her little hope. “No,” he said. “I plan to keep you… When I’m ready, I’ll return you to him. What happens here will send a message to him. You will send him a message.”
“What message is that?”
Closing the space between them, he brushed her hair from her cheek. Swiping his hand away, she leaped back, but the guard was there to hold her in place.
“He’s not the only one who can screw with people he shouldn’t,” Hagan murmured.
Yanking herself free of the guard, she didn’t like being sandwiched between these males. “What does that mean?”
His eyelid twitched. “You think he walks on water, but I know different. He fucks women, wrecks their lives, and tosses them to the curb. He destroys them. Decimates them and anyone who cares about them… You are just the latest on the list. Ryske never gave a damn about a woman he stuck his dick in, not in his life. This time I’ll be the one to show him what it’s like to hurt.”
Grabbing her, Hagan thrust her into the room while the security guy rushed up to block any escape.
The door slammed shut.
Rushing the door, Harlow gave it a tug, but it was locked.
Damn. Damn. Damnit.
Scanning the space Hagan had trapped her in, Harlow was surprised that it wasn’t a medieval cell. Rather it appeared to be a den, and quite a comfortable one.
Searching was useless, drawers were locked or empty and although there was a bathroom, there was nothing in it that could be used as a weapon and no route of escape. There was no phone or even wiring.
Seating herself on the couch after finding nothing of use, she tucked her hands under her legs and set her focus on the tall windows. This apartment was several floors up and given that she couldn’t hear any street sound, it made sense that the street wouldn’t be able to hear her.
Hagan had a plan, something to do with using her against Ryske. Harlow didn’t like it. In fact, that was a massive understatement. She’d never been madder in her life. Being used as a pawn was insulting. It didn’t help to know that she was being manipulated to hurt the man she’d just realized she wanted a chance to be with.
At least her anger wasn’t fear. Hagan was an asshole, but he hadn’t hurt her in any serious way. He talked a good game, but had revealed his hand in his last outburst. From what he’d said, it didn’t take a genius to deduce that Hagan wanted to hurt Ryske because Ryske had hurt a woman in his life.
So much of this didn’t make sense, but knowing she’d see Ryske again was a comfort. Hagan had told her she would. When she did, Harlow was going to ask questions and find out the truth of what was going on. Apologizing would be first on her list, and if Ryske could accept that and trust her, they’d get this figured out.
Whether Ryske wanted her to be or not, Harlow was on his side. With his behavior, Jarvis Hagan had seen to that. Harlow was for Ryske, but she had no idea if he was on her team or done with her for good.