Floyd’s was their destination.
Harlow wasn’t surprised to find herself in the alley behind the bar after Ryske parked and helped her off the bike. He took her helmet from her hand and then laced their fingers together. She was still smoothing her hair when he led her around the side of the building, in the opposite direction to the one Noon had taken her. They went into a narrow alley that had a wall at the end. About halfway down, he stopped to unlock a side door and pushed her inside.
In a dark stairwell, her eyes needed a second to adjust to the lack of light before they noticed an internal door opposite them. As Harlow started toward it, Ryske took her waist and swung her left to face the stairs.
“Up,” he said.
“Up?”
She hadn’t expected the redirection but did as told and climbed the stairs. At the top was another door. Ryske came up behind her and leaned past her to open it. Harlow wasn’t sure what she was expecting the upstairs of Floyd’s to look like, so she just waited for it to be revealed.
Walking in to an open plan apartment, a very open plan, very large apartment, she discovered the crew’s home. There was a kitchen in the furthest left corner, that would be above the den she’d found Felipe in the last time she was here. A spiral staircase with a wrought iron banister led down from the far side of the kitchen. Doing her best to recall the downstairs layout, she guessed those stairs would lead to the curtain Ryske had appeared from in the den.
Next to the kitchen were the only walls in the place, other than those around the stairwell she and Ryske had just come from. They divided off what had to be two rooms because there were two doors.
She didn’t dwell on what could be behind those doors after concluding they wouldn’t be concealing bedrooms. Apparently, privacy was a myth to these men. Four double beds were on display in this space, two flanking either side of the stairwell she’d just emerged from. Around each bed were rails with curtains hanging on them, but all of the curtains were pulled back open.
Still taking in the details, she wanted to know where Ryske called home. In front of the kitchen, parallel to the substantial breakfast bar, was a long dining table where the crew must eat their meals. There were couches and arm chairs between that and the two beds to the left. To the other side, was a gym that contained a couple of machines, fully stocked weights racks and benches.
Yeah, this was a guys’ pad.
“You live here?” she asked, though that was kind of obvious.
“We all do,” he replied, pushing her deeper into the apartment. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No,” she said, scrutinizing the place as he crossed it to go into the kitchen. “Shouldn’t you tell someone you’re back?”
“One of the guys will be around soon. They’re always in and out.”
No wonder it had been so easy for her to fall off their radar; they didn’t worry much about each other’s radars either.
“I should call work,” she said and slipped her feet out of her shoes. Though the office would be closed, there were emergency numbers, and voicemail where she could leave a message. “Do you have a phone around here?”
Ryske was on the other side of the wide kitchen breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area. “He had you all week?”
She wasn’t sure if he’d ignored her question because he didn’t want to answer it or if he just hadn’t heard her. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t in the mood to argue.
“Yes,” she said and pointed at the couch. “Can I sit down?”
As always, he was so laid back he was almost horizontal. “Do whatever the hell you want, Trink,” he said, going to the sink to fill two glasses with water. “Let me check a few things out before you call anyone.”
The sink was under the window in the counter that attached to the perpendicular breakfast bar. In the center of the kitchen was a small square island. Another long countertop ran along the opposite wall. At the end of that was the fridge, which stood flanking the opening to the kitchen across from the end of the breakfast bar.
Casting his jacket from her shoulders, Harlow sank onto the couch. “Why? What do you need to check out?”
Ryske came toward her. “If you’ve been missing all week and no one reported it, we have to figure out why.”
He stopped in front of her to offer her a glass of water. “Gina wouldn’t be in cahoots with…”
The words trailed off as her fingers touched the cool glass.
“What?”
Squinting, she tried to recall how things had played out. “I don’t know, I… I went there on Monday because she told me to go. I thought it was a regular client meeting. But I… Hagan said he’d arranged with her for me to have the whole afternoon, which I thought was odd.”
“It is,” he said, sitting at her side after she took the glass from him. “He donates a bunch of money to different causes. Maybe your department is one of them.”
“Maybe,” she murmured, drifting on her ideas of the possibilities.
Just being free again was a relief. It had only been a week, but already liberation felt like an adjustment. One thing had been so prominent in her thoughts during her captivity: Ryske. This was what she’d wanted… to be alone with Ryske again.
His attitude was almost professional, which couldn’t be further from where her mind was in that minute. “Talk me through what happened,” he said. “I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make this right.”
“Talk…” she said and leaned forward to put her glass on the coffee table.
Twisting toward him, Harlow didn’t say anything else. He’d told her once that conversation was a distraction. But she wasn’t distracted anymore.
Loosening his tie, she tossed it aside, and began to unbutton his shirt. Harlow was not going to waste this chance.
“Baby, we don’t—”
“I don’t want to talk, Ryske,” she said and pushed him against the back of the couch to climb onto his lap.
“Trink…”
Nuzzling his mouth, she took from him the kiss that she craved, and then demanded another. While their lips tasted and spoiled each other, she finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled the tails from his pants so she could force the fabric from his shoulders.
“All I kept thinking about was that moment you walked away from me,” she whispered. Exposing his torso, she dug her nails into his tats, shoulder and abs. “I don’t want to play it safe anymore. Make me dangerous, Ryske.”
Searching her gaze, he caught her hair with the back of his hand and wrist, sweeping it off his chest. “What did they do to you, Trink? Huh?”
With a shake of her head, she kissed him again. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Arching her back meant breaking the kiss, but she had to straighten up to loosen the zip beneath her arm.
“Baby, we don’t—” He stopped talking when the click of zipper teeth opening crackled through the air. “Are you gonna take that off?” Slouching, he locked his fingers together behind his head. “I’ll quit interrupting. Keep going.”
Wearing a smile, she finished unzipping and gathered the dress up to take it off over her head. His eyes flared, fascinated by the sight of her figure. Even just in her underwear, Harlow didn’t feel self-conscious, somehow he made her proud of her body.
Leaning forward, she tossed the dress over the back of the couch and tried to kiss him again. But he grabbed her waist and held her back, savoring the full view of her bared body. His grip tightened as his feral eyes traveled down and up, inspecting every inch of her.
“It’s a damn shame you like it rough, baby. Your skin is like butter,” he said, skimming a hand to the center of her torso and up to her cleavage.
Bowing forward, she rested her head against his. “It doesn’t bruise easily,” she whispered. “Take what you want, Crash. Take it from me.”
A breath of silence passed. The thump of her heart shook within her chest. Invigorated and enthralled, she was consumed by a massive sense of exhilarating anticipation. This was going to happen. Harlow didn’t have a damn clue what this was, but whatever it was… she was in it. Choosing to embrace a life that involved Ryske was going to be an adventure.
In a snap of movement, Ryske snatched her thighs and scooped her up to flip her onto her back on the couch without letting his body lose contact with hers. The press of him between her thighs made her groan as he slithered south, his lips tasting every new quivering corner they met.
“Promise me this minute, Crash,” she sighed, arching her body into his mouth that was sampling her neck and descending to her upper chest. “Promise me the present.”
Kissing the generous mounds of her breasts, he sent heat cascading through her. Harlow wanted this. She wanted more. Instinct made her knees bend. She pulled her legs high, sliding the soles of her feet around his hips. Tucking her toes into the waistband of his pants, she tried to push them down, but his belt frustrated her efforts.
“Mmm,” he said in a show of approval. “You’re flexible, baby.”
Pilates was the reason for that. Explaining her workout routine was the last thing on her mind. “Take your pants off.”
“Love a woman who knows what she wants.”
His hand closed over her breast. Just the notion of his grip made her whimper for more. Harlow wanted his hands everywhere, wanted his forceful touch, wanted him to demand what he wanted from her.
That whimper just so happened to seep out of her in the same moment a rabble of voices rose from the direction of the kitchen.
The couch they were on was perpendicular to the dining table. Armchairs stood parallel to the dining table, and they would probably block the view of them from whoever was coming from the spiral stairs. But Harlow didn’t care about being seen, she was too caught up in wriggling beneath Ryske and trying to squeeze her toes deeper under his belt to force his pants down his hips.
“Whoa, hey,” one voice rose above the others. Maze. “Do you have a… does he have a… We have rules about women up here, asshole.”
Ryske seemed to be tempering himself when he stopped kissing her. His eyes rose to the top of their sockets like he was counting to ten.
Harlow didn’t want to let him go, and made that clear by resisting when he tried to pry her legs from around him. She whimpered and clenched. Strengthening his grip, Ryske pulled harder. But she didn’t want to lose. This battle boosted her want. His strength, his power, it was what she wanted to feel.
Her mouth opened in a silent yowl of arousal that encouraged Ryske’s intensity to keep fighting for control. Overpowering her, he won the battle and freed himself from the circle of her legs.
Laying an arm along the top of the couch, he held himself above her, taking a moment to admire and adore her laid out beneath him.
“Baby,” she whispered, throwing a hand to his abdomen when he twisted around to look back at his colleagues.
Because they were in the kitchen and she was blocked by furniture, Harlow still hadn’t seen them. But with Ryske caressing one of her legs, her thoughts stayed on the carnal.
“Kinda entertaining here, guys,” Ryske said.
Harlow was impressed that he managed to sass. No, she was impressed that he’d managed to say anything at all. Her mind was too fuddled to think about forming sentences. Life got better when Ryske shifted onto his knees. Still twisted to look over his shoulder at his crew, he didn’t notice her fingers moving towards his zipper.
“Uh, I don’t fucking think so,” Maze said. “Take her downstairs.”
“Thought you were working tonight,” Noon said.
The sound of someone socking someone else carried to her ears. “And if he’s working her, you just screwed it up,” Maze said.
“He wouldn’t bring a woman he’s working back here.”
Seemed like maybe it was just Noon and Maze. Dover was probably still working downstairs. Didn’t bother her, Harlow was happy loosening Ryske’s pants.
“He knows better than to bring any woman back here,” Maze said, without disguising the displeasure in his voice. “Least he should know better. Get her out of here, Ryske.”
Rubbing her hand over the bulge she’d exposed, she bit her lip. “Can I take it out?” Harlow whispered, wondering how Ryske felt about public exposure. If he was successful in getting rid of the guys, she wanted to get right back to where they’d been heading. “I want to play, Crash.”
She tried to slip her hand into his underwear. Ryske intercepted it to link their fingers together, doing the same with the other when she switched, giving him control of both her hands. Twisting and pulling did nothing but make her smile. Ryske was strong and he wasn’t giving in.
“Guess, on the bright side, this means he’s over Nightingale, right?” Noon said. “Isn’t that what we’ve been telling him to do all week? Get over it or go get her.”
“Do you think a random fuck is really the answer?” Maze asked. “What if that broad he’s got on the couch is a crazy psycho? She’s in our damn living room.”
“Oh, she’s crazy alright,” Ryske said.
Succeeding in wriggling a finger free of Ryske’s control, the first thing Harlow did was respond to that gibe by poking her fingernail into one of the points on his abdominal tattoo.
“Then what’s she doing in our living room?” Noon asked.
“Fucking our friend apparently,” Maze said. “You didn’t pay for it, did you? ‘Cause, man, that’s not the answer. It won’t bring Nightingale back to you.”
“Nightingale isn’t as pure as you think,” Ryske said, earning himself another prod.
Just that night, she’d been accused of being a hooker. And she had technically gone on a date with one man, and come home with his enemy. But that didn’t make her impure… not exactly.
Having fun after a week of captivity felt overdue. The light, happy sensation couldn’t last. Her attention snagged on the scar forming above Ryske’s hip and her smile slipped.
That was where he’d been stabbed. His grip on her must have loosened because when she shook her hand, it was freed from his. Her fingertips grazed the scar as she thought about the night they’d met and how close she’d come to losing him.
“We need a report,” Maze said. “Tell the girl to get lost. Dover’s on his way up.”
“She’s not easy to get rid of,” Ryske said.
He probably expected another fingernail stab, but she didn’t want to hurt him. Adrift, reflecting on their past, she was only half listening anyway. Sex would be fantastic and it was what she wanted. But this was a chance at something else she’d wanted too. Answers were right there in that room. All she had to do was ask. Even if it took some cajoling, the worst they could do was say no. Harlow had to try.
Sitting up, she kissed Ryske’s torso and gave him a push while untucking her leg from between him and the back of the couch. “We should tell them what happened,” she murmured and stood up to stretch.
With her fingers interlinked, she straightened her arms and turned her palms toward the ceiling. “Hey, guys,” she said, offering a finger wave when she released the tension of her body.
Noon and Maze were on the other side of the breakfast bar. Their expressions of impatience had given way to surprise.
Neither of the men spoke and she feared she’d somehow offended them. “What’s wrong with them?” she asked Ryske while watching the two men in the kitchen.
“You’re giving ‘em a show, Trink,” Ryske said, adjusting his slacks as he moved to sit on the edge of the couch. “You’re almost naked, babe.”
She hadn’t been thinking about her apparel. But when she looked down at the pink plunge bra and thong she was wearing, she remembered the dress she’d tossed away. Blowing out disbelief, Harlow bent to retrieve Ryske’s shirt from the floor.
Slipping her arms into the sleeves, she only did a couple of buttons up over her breasts. “They don’t care about that,” she said, climbing onto the couch, tucking her toes beneath Ryske’s thigh and letting her bent knees rest across his lap.
Ryske slid an arm around her. “They’re guys,” he said, pushing her hair away from her shoulder to kiss the side of her neck. “They care.”
“They must have seen a zillion women more naked than that,” she said, tracing her index fingernail around his shoulder tattoo. “And I’m Nightingale. They don’t think of me like… that.”
Again, Ryske laughed. The men seemed amused too. Both were walking from the kitchen to the living room. “We debated putting a pillow on his face at Bale’s, just to see which of us would be your second choice,” Maze said, dropping into one of the armchairs that had its back to the dining table.
“So…” Noon said, waving a finger between them, and seating himself in the armchair next to Maze’s. “Are you two like… a thing now?”
“Please,” Maze said. “They’ve been a thing since the moment he crashed into her.”