The end of the story was so shocking and unexpected that her mouth fell open. After a stuttering moment of astonishment, Harlow pushed away from the vanity and went to him, wrapping her arms around his torso to hold him.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Oh, Ryske, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry… She committed suicide?”
He stroked a flat hand down her back over the length of her hair. “That’s what Hagan will tell you.”
Pushing away, she inspected his face. Did that mean… was he implying Hagan had hurt her… had Jarvis Hagan killed his own fiancée?
If Harlow needed any further proof that she was a terrible judge of character, she’d just got it. Harlow had deemed Hagan an asshole, but hadn’t considered him dangerous. In one way, she was right, Ryske had said Hagan didn’t do his own dirty work. But Hagan had the resources, and manpower, to end a person and he’d used them before, so he was definitely dangerous.
Ophelia had been right too. Such an experience would change a person.
Touching his face, Harlow wondered how Ryske had made it through such a difficult time. “If this was all two years ago, why are you still dealing with him?”
“After Anwen was gone, about eighteen months ago, we all went our separate ways. I thought that was it.”
“Until?”
“Losing the half mill was embarrassing for Parratt, but he could afford to absorb the loss. Once he figured out the investment wasn’t coming good, he’d said he wouldn’t go to the cops on the proviso that when he needed something from me, I’d have to deliver. Helped that he couldn’t prove anything illegal. He’d handed over the money and had no evidence I lied… But we let him say his piece, he wanted to save face after being taken for a ride. Sometimes pays when guys like him reach out.”
Parratt had gotten him involved in this recent mess? Harlow wanted to know more. “Parratt reached out?”
“About six months after Anwen was gone, Parratt called in a favor and I had a chance to square things… I screwed that up…” She didn’t understand how and he wasn’t forthcoming. “The debt was still outstanding, but I didn’t hear anything until a few months ago. Parratt left a message on the answering service. Maze has a program that checks the old numbers once in a while… He called in the chit.”
Called in the chit, that had to be what the meeting tonight was about. Parratt was bringing Ryske into some deal. “Parratt called in a favor that’s going to cost you a million dollars… where are you going to get a million dollars?”
One side of his mouth rose in a dashing smile that she recognized as the one he used on the con. “Cool mill is easy, babydoll.”
Sometimes she lost herself in wondering how he could live such a capricious life. “How?”
Combing his fingers through her hair, he brushed it down the back of her shoulder. “We’ll come up with it if we have to… might not be ours, but there will be numbers on the screen if there has to be.”
Did that mean Maze would steal it or that he’d manufacture it? She didn’t know, but it seemed the money wasn’t the problem. “I don’t understand. If this is about a deal with Parratt, what was the talk about Hagan competing and the gambling and—”
“Part of the reason Hagan wants in on the deal is because he’s branching into less than… legitimate ventures. He bought a club. It’s vital to this deal with Parratt, who needs… premises to make it work… That’s what Hagan brings to the table. The premises.
“Don’t think Hagan knew I was going to be involved until I showed up at one of their initial meetings. We hadn’t seen each other since Anwen. I walked in there and I guess it all came back to him. We’re a sort of consortium, you could say, everyone brings something to the table. Me, Hagan, Parratt, and Yarker… Ophelia was at that first meeting too.”
“That’s how you met with her again?”
He nodded. “She’s responsible for Parratt getting me involved. She didn’t say it, but I know her. Somewhere behind the scenes, I knew she was pulling some string somewhere… Like I said, she’s not involved in Hagan’s business anymore, not his legitimate business. This kinda shit gets her off.”
Illegal shit, that’s what he meant. Ophelia couldn’t work with her brother in business, but she could in a crime syndicate.
“Parratt brought you in on this deal?” Harlow asked, wary of Parratt’s motives. “Even though he knew what you did, that you conned him out of that investment money?”
“This new operation is a second chance to clean the slate. Couldn’t say no to hearing them out… So we got together, me, Parratt, Yarker, and Hagan, who’s been fuming about my involvement the whole time. This op is not small potatoes. Ponying up the money is a sign of our commitment.” And Parratt would want a sign of that from Ryske in order to trust him. “Every man has his own responsibility in this op. Hagan provides the premises, but like you heard them say tonight, they need my… connections.”
Speaking to Ryske was supposed to help her understand what was happening. There were serious layers to the operation and to the individual relationships.
Harlow understood that the Floyd’s crew had scammed Parratt out of money. Ingratiating themselves with him had involved Ryske coaching Ophelia in business. Ophelia had to believe there was some element of romance to their relationship as she’d taken him to her brother’s auction.
Going to the auction had been twofold for them. They donated a fake item to give themselves credibility with Parratt, and stolen another item for an associate, whom she didn’t know. While at the auction, Ryske had met Anwen. That had set in motion a series of events that she doubted he could’ve predicted. The affair, Anwen’s suicide, Hagan’s hatred.
If it wasn’t for the debt he owed to Parratt, Ryske would probably have avoided Hagan forever. But Parratt needed Ryske’s connections, and needed Hagan’s premises, so the men were in business together. Given that Ryske had slept with Hagan’s fiancée, it made sense that there was animosity. It even made sense that Ryske would dislike Hagan who had been violent with the woman he was supposed to love.
This wasn’t over and she doubted that it would be any time soon.
With this new information, something else became clear. Ryske had sold her a bill of goods. This wasn’t about any professional rivalry. The men were embroiled in the same operation, Parratt’s operation, which she didn’t yet understand. But it wasn’t about Hagan’s premises taking Floyd’s business.
Figuring that out changed so much about her view of their previous conversations. “It was a lie… You, who always said you couldn’t lie to me, lied to me… What you and the guys told me about Hagan trying to take Floyd’s business, being in competition with you… it was a lie?”
He didn’t admit it straight out, choosing instead to offer an explanation for what had happened the night they met. “I didn’t want you involved in any of this, Trink… Parratt’s operation, it’s intriguing, and playing along will settle the score. We won’t owe him anymore. Having Hagan involved makes it risky… Me and the guys knew Hagan was pissed about Anwen, and we have no friends in Parratt’s operation, none except Ophelia who can turn on a dime. We had to figure out if this could be a trap… Playing at Hagan’s place gave me a chance to see how far he’d go for payback. Losing was a strategic move. Parratt knows I never lose…”
Frustration didn’t begin to explain how she felt about how casual he was with his own safety. “You’re impugning Hagan’s credibility, that’s what it was about? You got stabbed because you wanted to shame him?”
“I wasn’t supposed to get stabbed. I didn’t know he’d… that Anwen would make him…”
“You underestimated how much he hated you.”
“I knew he was bitter at that first meeting… the night Parratt pitched the scheme to us. After Hagan saw me, it didn’t even matter to him what the setup was, he wouldn’t back down. As long as I was in, he was going to be in. Guess he sees this as his chance to get even with me…”
It was a hot mess and he was in deep. Harlow was tempted to ask Ryske to walk away from it all, but she doubted Hagan would give up even if he did. “You said Ophelia was your in at Hagan’s club?”
“After the first consortium meeting was done, I was heading out. Ophelia intercepted me… we had a drink… reminisced.”
“About Anwen?” While he raised a shoulder in a half shrug, she let her fingers caress his stubble. “Crash.”
The whispered moniker was supposed to soothe him, but he moved out of her arms and turned away again. “Ophelia’s relationship with Hagan was never the same after Anwen. She said she kept up appearances, but she has a lot of resentment toward him… That night, she asked me to ruin him, asked for my help.”
And that’s how Ophelia had become their inside man. Ophelia was feeding Ryske information about Hagan because she wanted to avenge her best friend.
After Parratt’s failed investment, Ryske and Anwen’s affair, and Ryske’s sudden disappearance from their social scene, Ophelia must have figured out he wasn’t what he’d originally presented himself to be. Or maybe Ryske had been honest with Anwen. Pillow talk could lead to all kinds of confessions. If the best friends had been close, Anwen might have revealed the truth to Ophelia.
Parratt knew it, and by association, Yarker and Hagan did too. Of course, Hagan’s beef was more personal than professional. In whatever way it had come out, all of the players knew Ryske wasn’t any kind of benign, rich entrepreneur.
Imagining Ophelia’s plea and how Ryske might have reacted to it, Harlow made an educated guess. “You said yes.”
“She knows I have no love for the guy,” he said, turning to face her again. “But I’m not interested in vendettas, that shit can ruin a guy.”
So Ophelia hadn’t recruited him to her cause, not all the way. “How did she take it when you told her that?”
“She wasn’t happy, but said she wasn’t going to give up trying to enlist me… Since then she’s been a part of the meetings with her brother and the others. Somewhere along the way, she told Hagan we’re sleeping together. Taunting him with me gives her some kind of satisfaction. He thinks we’re dating, casual, fuck buddies, into each other, serious, I don’t know. I let her run with it and don’t correct his assumptions or contradict her in public.”
Much like he didn’t want others to do to him, made sense. Ryske followed the ‘go with it’ attitude.
“Why lose? Why push him into hurting you?”
He inhaled. “Hagan’s club, he calls it Windsor’s… Anwen’s last name was Windsor.” Saying that seemed to give him reason to pause. Harlow didn’t push and let Ryske decide when he was ready to continue. “Hagan started these poker nights, tournaments with unofficial stakes in the place he bought uptown.”
“What does that mean?”
He licked his lips. “Anything can go on the table. If there’s no money, favors can be traded, deals can be signed, businesses handed over, cars, homes, family, anything.”
“Family?”
He laughed, probably at her shock. “Yeah. We’re talking businessmen here, some have reputations for being good in specific areas. So a father may barter a son’s services to negotiate a deal or to work with a competitor, that sort of thing. Basically, anything can be put on the table. As long as everyone else agrees, matches the bet or raises it, it is allowed.”
“Anything,” she muttered, wondering what would possess someone to take a risk on something they cared about.
“Sometimes it’s just money, the nights usually start that way as a warm up. Later, the players want variety. These are men who like to keep things interesting and men with egos the size of the Pacific. Some go in with an agenda, others wait to strike vulnerabilities they find. When an opponent has a few drinks in them and the night grows stagnant, anyone can suggest or request anything… Sometimes they’re taunted into it, other times, they really believe they’re invincible, so they will put anything on the table.”
“I would be terrified,” she said.
Ryske shrugged, indicating he didn’t think it was a big deal, or at least wasn’t moved by it. “These men have this stuff to lose,” he said. “They don’t know fear like we do… or like I do. They don’t know poverty and can afford to lose pretty much everything and still have the capital to start again. They go for the thrill, the excitement. They don’t want a regular card game, there’s no adrenaline in losing, even if it’s millions. Put your daughter or your family’s fifth generation corporation on the table? Those are real stakes.”
“And you went to this Windsor’s card game? What did you have to lose? How did you get in?”
“Ophelia,” he said. “She likes to go and watch these guys bet the bank. Guess she has a bit of a sadistic streak. Nothing makes her happier than seeing a guy lose it all.” He smiled. Though it was tighter than the smile he’d worn for Anwen, Harlow got the sense that he enjoyed Ophelia too. “I can identify with that.”
“They let you bet money?”
He nodded. “I said I was there just to get a feel for it… if it’s going to be a part of the consortium op, I need to know it’ll hold up… Hagan didn’t know I was there at first. I went in with Ophelia on my arm and sat at a table of strangers. ‘Cause they thought I was a rookie, the players just assumed I wouldn’t have the balls for it… I was up when Hagan discovered I was there… he doesn’t usually play. That night. He did.”
Despite him saying vendettas could ruin a man, Ryske had got into a pissing contest, which had gotten him stabbed. “Because you were there. Hagan played because you were there.”
“Probably.”
Heading back to the vanity, she thought about the night and tried to put the pieces together. Ryske had gone to Windsor’s with the intention of getting into Hagan’s head.
Having Ophelia as his date, the sister of the club’s owner, meant no one would question his presence. Ophelia probably fawned over him all night, irritating the bejeezus out of Hagan after he sat at the table. Everything had gone to plan. Though, it was still a crazy plan, given that it had gotten him stabbed.
“But you lost,” she said, folding her arms when she turned to prop herself on the vanity again. “You said that was part of the plan. Why would you want to lose to—”
“Losing to Hagan is about pushing him to his limit. If he loses his shit, we know how reliable he is as a business partner. So far, he’s not doing a great job of putting the past behind him.”
“You want to discredit him in front of Parratt,” she said and he swept a hand toward her like she was right. “But… doesn’t losing to him make you look unreliable? If you can’t come up with ten grand…”
“Not having ten grand in my back pocket is not the same thing as not having it,” he said. “I could’ve put my hands on it. The idea was to be cocky, smug… glib, disrespectful…”
“You wanted to provoke him,” she said. “And he took the bait.”
“Always does.”
Shaking her head, she felt almost maternal in reaching a conclusion. “You play, take your risks… It’s all one big game,” she said. “You didn’t bank on getting a knife in your gut, did you?”
“I’d say that’s what I get for sleeping with the man’s fiancée,” he said. “He has a lot of pent up anger toward me. We knew it. We just didn’t know it was homicidal anger until that moment.”
Provoking Hagan wasn’t only about checking how reliable he was as a business partner. Sure, Ryske wanted to put eyes on the club that was going to be part of this consortium op. But Harlow had a feeling Ryske had some pent up anger of his own too.
Whatever his feelings for Anwen, for months, he’d had to listen to tales of her suffering at the hands of Hagan’s men, on her fiancé’s orders. Then he’d have learned she had killed herself. That wasn’t something anyone just got over. Maybe he hadn’t admitted it to his crew, or even to himself, but she’d guess Ryske wanted to lash out and hurt Hagan for hurting someone he cared about.
He couldn’t have been expecting a potential mortal injury though, that had to be why he’d gone on his own. Ryske was an imp, mischievous and often cocky. He’d have told the guys he was taking Ophelia out to Windsor’s and probably expected to have a good time taunting Hagan rather than ending the night bleeding out.
“Hagan did that in front of people?”
“No,” he said, scoffing out a laugh. “He didn’t do it at all. He took me into another room with Brash and Animal. We got into it. I got to see first-hand what Anwen talked about. Hagan didn’t throw any punches, he ordered Animal to do it. We were fighting when Brash came in under Animal’s arm, that’s when the knife went in… I didn’t think it was a big deal, but I knew enough to get out of there.”
Recalling what she’d learned in Bale’s when Ryske was recuperating, pieces started to slide together. “You ran around all over the place before heading back to Floyd’s.”
“I was slowing down, getting dizzy. When my vision started to blur, that’s when I knew something wasn’t right.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said, but didn’t budge when he came up to her.
“Don’t know about that,” he said. “If I’d been with it, I’d have avoided running into the babe who walked in front of me. Usually I’m quite nimble.”
Nimble or not, it would’ve taken some skill to avoid their collision, but she agreed that his physical state was what led to them making this connection. Whether he’d crashed into her or not, he’d have been able to recover and keep moving if he’d been at full strength. That stab wound brought them together.
He might be used to working by himself when he had to, but while Hagan was involved, Harlow didn’t like the idea of Ryske not having backup.
“Someone should be with you when you’re out there,” she said.
“That an offer?”
An offer to be in the field with him? If he needed someone to watch his back, she would do it if no one else was available. Except Harlow wasn’t a master criminal or secret ninja, so she didn’t know how much help she’d be.
Whatever the future brought, she wanted a better look at the past to satisfy her curiosity. For weeks, she’d helped to care for his wound, and looking after him wasn’t a habit easily broken.
“Can I look at it?” she asked. “Your scar?”
With a single nod, he inched back to let her crouch in front of him. Peeling back his pants, she revealed the injury that had brought them together. It had healed and was looking clean. She was pleased that Bale was so good at what he did because although there would always be a scar, there were no signs that it would cause Ryske long-term problems.
“Oh, shit, I should’ve known.” Peeking around Ryske’s leg, Harlow saw Maze in the bathroom doorway with Noon at his side. “Can you blow him in the closet? The rest of us need to use this room too.”
They had been occupying the bathroom for a while, but they were talking, not… the other thing.
Ryske took her hand to help her up to her feet. “She can blow me any place she likes, any time she likes,” he said.
Harlow slipped her hand out of Ryske’s. “She’s not blowing you anywhere any time,” she said, and eyed each man again. “Are you ready to let me go home yet?”
All of them shook their heads.
“We’re not that bad to live with,” Noon said.
“Four guys? Four slobs? No, I’m sure it will be wonderful,” she said, fastening another button on her shirt.
“You ready for bed?” Noon asked. “I can show you the setup. Dover and Ryske are in opposite corners, Maze and me sleep on either side of the stairwell.”
“Why are you telling her that?” Maze asked, crossing to the toilet that was in the corner beside the window. “So she can pick which of us she wants to bunk in with? You taking bets?”
“You’d all lose,” she said, twisting to prop her hip on the vanity when it became clear Maze was going to pee whether the room was full of people or not.
In an apartment with three other guys and a bathroom door that didn’t close, she guessed they lost their modesty quickly. This crew had grown up together since they were kids. It was no surprise they acted as brothers would.
“We would?” Ryske asked. “You’re not sleeping downstairs.”
“Don’t trust me not to sneak out?” she asked, arching a brow.
“That and the bar is still open,” he said. “You’re not going downstairs to the den dressed like that. Guys from the bar wander in there all the time.”
She cast a quick glance at herself in the mirror then blinked innocence at him. “I can take the shirt off if it pleases the crowd.”
“Hilarious,” he said, grabbing the back of her neck to push her toward the door.
Noon got out of the way in a hurry. Ryske angled her right and guided her across the apartment to the bed in the furthest corner. Thrusting her forward, he gave her no choice but to fall onto the bed. Although the shirt flew up to reveal her ass, she was quick to pull it down and flipped over to sit in the middle of the mattress.
“What the hell are you—”
“This is your bed,” Ryske said and opened his arms. “Harlow Sweeting, meet the place you’re going to sleep for the rest of your life.”
“The rest of my life?” she asked, pushing her hair up off her face. “Do you think that it will take that long to get Hagan off my tail?”
Ryske didn’t answer, just raised both brows and turned his back on her. Dover wasn’t in the room anymore, she guessed he’d gone back down to the bar. Maze and Noon were still in the bathroom. The door was open, as apparently it always was, but she and Ryske were alone.
Going to the kitchen, Ryske retrieved a fresh glass of water. After he brought it back to put it on the nightstand, he took off his pants and tossed them to the chair at the end of the bed.
“Move over.”
“You are not getting in this bed,” she said, pulling down the covers to tuck herself beneath them. “The jailor does not get to have sex with his prisoner.”
“Oh, yes, he does,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Perks of the job.”
He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. “Couch,” she said, pointing past him.
Opening his mouth in a display of surprise, he blinked. “Are you for real? A half hour ago, you were all over me.”
“A half hour ago I wasn’t your captive,” she said. “This is your job. You want to protect me? Great. But I’m not happy, Crash, and unhappy Harlow isn’t horny.”
A snort of a laugh came from the other side of the room. Maze was emerging from the bathroom. When he caught them glaring, he held up both hands. “Hey, I’m saying nothing… other than you sound like my parents.”
Ryske sneered. “You’re funny, funny guy. Let me work, we’re getting busy over here.”
Intrigued, Harlow wanted to ask more about Maze’s parents. But when Ryske turned back to her, she cleared her curiosity and returned to frowning. “I’m serious, Ryske. You’re not sleeping here. I gave up my bed to you for a week, now it’s time to return the favor. I’ll stay, I’m not going to make a big deal of it, but I am not happy with the way you guys handled this… Besides, it’s not like we can have sex when we’re sharing a room with three other guys.”
Undeterred, Ryske startled her by leaning in until his mouth was within an inch of hers. “You’ll get used to it, Trink. Because soon we’re gonna be having a lot of it, right here,” he said, bouncing his fist on the bed. “You’re gonna love it and they’re gonna hear every whimper.”
Squashing his mouth to hers, he stole a kiss. Harlow shoved him away hard, but he just smirked and winked before leaving the bed and pulling the curtain across the end to block out the living room and kitchen. She could still see the bed next to hers and the back of the apartment. This was as close to privacy as they’d get.
Harlow had been ready to give herself to Ryske, but wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it with an audience.
Maze had said women weren’t allowed in the apartment, which made sense given it was so open plan. If any of the guys on the Floyd’s crew wanted to entertain a girlfriend, it would be less complicated for them to go to wherever the woman lived. The rule would also reduce the chances of a female getting in their business and making it difficult for the crew to move around and talk like they had to when they were in the midst of a job.
Allowing Harlow to be present implied she was different.
Women weren’t allowed there, but she was there. Not only was she there, but they were telling her she wasn’t allowed to leave.
Any paperwork lying around, she’d be able to read. Conversations about a job? She’d be there to overhear them. Either these men trusted her immensely, or there was something else going on that she didn’t see.