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 inspecting. “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.”
“Don’t think you have to,” Maze muttered. “I think he’d do you anywhere.”
“Anywhere Noon could walk in and catch them at it,” Dover said. “I’m sure they set it up that way just to remind him he ain’t getting any.”
“Don’t see them lining up for you,” Noon said, lunging over her to try smacking Dover who just laughed harder and used her as a shield.
“I forget, Ryske,” Dover said. “What did the twins say when you told them Noon needed company?”
Standing up, Ryske smirked. “Poor kid’s taken enough of a beating for one day and his night isn’t about to get any better.”
Coming over to stand in front of her, Ryske bent to take her hands and pulled her onto her feet. “It isn’t?” she asked, letting him push her along, their joined hands on her hips. “Why not?”
Drawing her back, he whispered above her ear. “Because he’s going to have to listen to you screaming for me all night.”
“We’re not having sex,” she said.
Ryske pushed her to the side of their bed, blocking her in while he reached over to draw the curtain at the foot of the bed closed. The guys whooped and catcalled. There was a second curtain between the two nightstands that separated Ryske’s bed from Noon’s. He guided that down to meet the straight one at the bottom, concealing them from the view of the others.
The wine had loosened her up. When Ryske started to undress her, she admitted to herself that she kind of liked it. “We’re gonna start fulfilling your aspirations right here.”
“Strange places doesn’t mean in front of an audience,” she said, deciding to work on removing his clothes, since he was taking care of hers. “We can make out.”
“Good,” he said, snatching her hips to thrust her backwards onto the bed. “That’s the only in I need.”
Disoriented, Harlow was still getting used to being naked when he finished stripping and climbed on top of her, kissing his way from her knee to her cleavage. “I don’t know how much time you spent with girls in high school,” she said, running her hands through his hair while he feasted on her breasts. “But this goes way beyond making out.”
Lifting his head, his feral eyes were unapologetic. “You didn’t restrict which part of your body I could make out with.
Rising up, he grabbed her knees to pull them apart and dipped down to kiss the most intimate corner of her body. “Oh, boy,” she sighed and grabbed a pillow to squash it into her face in hopes it would block the sounds of ecstasy seeping from her lips.
Ryske wasn’t subtle; he took liberties wherever he could. Harlow would just have to get used to the fact that being with a criminal meant rules were always going to be optional not mandatory.