Hard as You Can (23 page)

C
rystal was so strung out with worry over Jenna that she hadn’t even bothered to change out of her skanky uniform. Instead, she’d traded her heels for flip-flops and thrown on an old hoodie she’d left in her locker. It was after two in the morning, after all, so it wasn’t like she was trying to win any fashion awards.

Nervous energy had her tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she turned into her neighborhood. There’d been almost no traffic, and she’d lucked out on a whole string of green lights, but it still seemed like the longest. Trip. Home. Ever.

Why the
hell
had Jenna come to Confessions?

How many times had Crystal told her to
never
go there, whether Crystal was working or not? Bruno had protected Jenna from getting sucked into Confessions, and the best way to ensure Jenna stayed out, stayed safe, and stayed off the gang’s radar was for her to stay away from the club. No exceptions.

God forbid anyone in the organization developed an interest of any sort in Jenna. The very thought sent a cold chill right through Crystal’s bones.

And who was this Edward guy Shane had left with Jenna? A small part of Crystal was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but most of her said they could trust Shane—a kinda amazing conclusion given how suspicious she tended to be of pretty much everyone and everything. And since Shane had vouched for the man, it was probably fine.

If only her racing heart and flip-flopping belly would believe that.

The entrance to her apartment complex came into view, and Crystal released a deep breath. She was going to feel ridiculous when she got home, saw everything was just as it should be, and found Jenna long asleep.

A light flashed. Once. Twice. Three times.

Crystal squinted through the glare of the passing streetlamps.

And there, on the corner just past the apartment complex’s driveway, stood Shane McCallan. He lowered his cell phone, the light swinging away, and waved.

Twin reactions coursed through Crystal. Excitement at seeing him again, at the fact that he’d apparently been waiting here for her. And a little suspicion, too, because
why was he waiting here for her
?

Oh, God, had something happened?

Both reactions sent Crystal’s heart racing. She pulled up alongside him and rolled down the window. “What’s wrong?”

Wearing a heather gray shirt stretched taut across his chest and shoulders, Shane gave her that sexy, charming smile. “Nothing, darlin’. Everything’s fine. I checked in with Easy, I mean, Edward, about fifteen minutes ago, and he reported everything’s quiet at your place.”

“Oh.” The truck’s engine idled loudly. “Well, then, what are you doing here?”

He tilted his head and nailed her with a hot, intense stare. “You said we could talk.”

Her stomach flipped. What did he want to talk about? His words from the dressing room came to mind.
I want you so bad I can hardly breathe.
Her heart beat a little harder still. “But, Jenna—”

“Is fine.” He arched a brow. “You’re not going back on your promise, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. But, um, where . . .”

“Why don’t you park over there,” he said, pointing at an open street space in front of a string of row houses. “We can just talk in your truck, if that’s okay.”

“Uh.” Crystal looked at the door to the glove box, hanging open because it wouldn’t stay closed anymore, and at the cracks in the vinyl bench seat beside her. Like her apartment, she’d never really given much thought to the truck’s appearance until now . . .

“Or we can sit in mine,” Shane said. “It’s just down the way.”

Crystal nodded. “Yeah. Um, let’s do that.” As she pulled into the spot, she shivered, excitement rushing through her at the chance to be with him again. This time, somewhere quiet, private, alone. Well, sorta, anyway. She turned the engine off and removed the key, and in the quiet of the cab, she forced herself to take a deep breath.
It’s just a talk, for God’s sake.
Then why did it feel more significant?

She cracked open the door . . . and remembered what she was wearing. The
one night
she didn’t change into normal person clothes, she got the opportunity to hang out with a nice guy. A
hot
guy. And here she was dressed like a freaking tramp.

Knock, knock.

Crystal’s gaze flew to the window beside her, and Shane was there, smiling at her with a questioning gaze. Well, wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her in this before.

She nodded, and he opened the door the rest of the way. Swallowing her embarrassment, she swung her almost entirely bare legs out and hopped down. “I, uh, didn’t take the time to change,” she said.

He took her hand. “I don’t care about that, sweetness. Come on.”

There was that nickname again. And the acceptance, too. And, oh, man, his hand was big and warm and reassuring around hers, his thumb rubbing over her knuckle again and again. She never wanted him to let her go.

Don’t get attached. You know there’s no way this works out.

Maybe. Probably. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy him while he was here, did it? She shivered despite the fact that she was playing with fire.

“Are you cold?” Shane asked, pulling her body closer to his as they walked down the quiet street, lined on one side by mostly dark row houses, and on the other by the fence and hedges that separated her apartment complex from the road.

“No, I’m okay,” she said, giving him a small smile. He was always so tuned in to her. Just like he’d noticed how much she hadn’t wanted Bruno’s kiss. Hell, Bruno was kissing her and hadn’t noticed her hesitation. Or hadn’t cared.

“I’m right here,” he said, pointing a key fob at a big black truck. The lights flashed twice in response. “M’lady,” he said, opening the door for the second row of seats with a playful smile. “There’s a blanket on the floor there.”

She climbed in, his hand warm on her lower back, the leather soft against the backs of her thighs. He closed the door and came around to the other side, then joined her at the opposite end of the big bench seat. And just then she figured out why he’d had them sit in the back instead of the front—because a console separated the two halves of the front seat. Which meant he didn’t want anything separating them . . .

She shivered again, nerves and excitement making it hard to sit still.

“Here,” he said, shaking the soft fleece blanket out and draping it across her lap.

“You’re so . . . different,” she said, not really intending to voice the thought. She peered at him sideways while she fiddled with the blanket.

Shane smiled. “Different good, I hope.”

Heat flooded into her cheeks, so she turned her gaze out the window. A streetlamp stood two cars lengths ahead of them, but Shane’s truck sat shrouded mostly in darkness along a row of hedges. It was so . . . peaceful sitting here with him, even as her nerves jangled and her heart raced.

“How was your night?” Shane said, pulling her gaze back to him.

She shrugged with one shoulder. Hours and hours of serving men food and drinks while she pretended not to notice the hard-ons tenting their pants or feel their fingers stealing touches of her skin. “Same old, same old. Yours? Everything go okay with that thing you had to do?”

He gave a nod, a small, tired smile on his face. “Yeah. Thankfully, it did.”

Part of her wanted to ask what it was he’d had to do, but it wasn’t any of her business. “Good,” she said. A long moment of silence passed with Shane’s gaze roaming over her. It took everything Crystal had not to fidget. “So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

Despite his almost relaxed posture, Shane didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t pull any punches. “Why do you tolerate Bruno?”

Damn if
tolerate
wasn’t the exact right word choice. If the question hadn’t been so fraught with land mines, Crystal almost might’ve smiled. “You’re just going for it, huh?”

He nodded and arched a brow. “Damn straight. You said we could talk, so I’m talking. Now it’s your turn.”

For a long moment, Crystal debated whether to answer. Why bother? Part of her knew it was an exercise in futility because it wouldn’t change a damn thing. But another part of her, the part that really hadn’t had
anyone
to share this incredible load with, just . . . wanted . . . one person to hear her. One person to empathize with her. One person to actually know her. She cleared her throat. “He helped me when it counted,” she said, hoping she could leave it at that.

Shane frowned, and his gaze cut from her cheek to her arm, or, rather, to the spot where the bruises were covered by the sleeve of the hoodie. He chuffed out half a laugh. “I spent a lot of years in the Army doing intelligence work. You’re as skilled at answering questions as any of the operatives I ever worked with.”

That’s because it’s a survival skill.
One perfected after years of tiptoeing around Confessions, the Church Gang, and Bruno. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not,” she said. “And I thought you were a medic.”

“I trained in both.” He shifted his back against the door to face her and tilted his head. “Why do you work at Confessions? And give me something more than ‘it pays the bills,’ please.”

It pays the bills, all right.
The ones racked up by her father. Which didn’t leave much left over for her own. “Nope. Can’t do it. Because that
is
the reason.” When he pursed his lips, she lifted her hands as if in surrender. “Honest.”

He heaved a long breath and nailed her with a thoughtful stare. “How old are you?”

The unexpected question pulled a bit of a smile out of her. Crystal shook her head. “A hundred and four.” Shane’s brow arched over an amused expression, and she shrugged. “That’s how it feels sometimes. I’m twenty-three.”

His eyes went wide. Apparently, she’d surprised him in return. “You seem older than that.”

A niggle of discomfort slinked into her belly. “Disappointed?”

“You could never disappoint me, Crystal. Let’s get that straight right now. You just have a seriousness about you that reads older. I like it. A lot.” He nailed her with a gaze full of heat and promise.

Crystal hugged herself. “Like I said, a hundred and four. Why? How old are you?” Late twenties she’d guessed when she’d thought about it at all. Bruno was in his thirties, so she was used to hanging around older men.

He smiled. “I’ll be shaking hands with the big three-oh in a few months.”

“Wow. You’re
old
,” she said.

Shane threw his head back and laughed. “Touché, darlin’. Touché.” His playful, appreciative smile tempted hers. She never teased Bruno because he took almost any attempt at humor as a personal slight. She’d learned that lesson long ago.

After a few moments, Shane’s smile faded away. “Why did it worry you so much that Jenna came to Confessions?”

The age question had been such a softball, she’d nearly forgotten how good he was at asking ones that left her feeling cornered. “Wait. I want to ask another question,” she rushed out, twisting the edge of the blanket in a knot between her fingers.

Shane lifted his hands from his lap, indicating he was open to it. “Ask away.”

Looking him over, she debated for a moment. God, he was really freaking gorgeous sitting there in the near dark. With those big, broad shoulders, the contours of his biceps visible beneath the sleeves of his shirt, and the strong thighs filling out his jeans. “Okay. Here’s what I want to know. Why do you care about any of this? You don’t even know me and Jenna.”

Shane shook his head, and the smug smile he wore was as sexy as it was irksome. “You wasted that one, because I already told you. I care because I like you. And I’m getting to know you better and better.”

The words lifted her up and crashed her back down again. Because she adored his interest in her, but it could never come to anything. And, anyway, he didn’t know everything there was to know about her. If he did, all that growing care of his might disappear. “Okay, then why were you planning a bachelor party at my club?”

He laced his fingers across his flat belly, still the picture of ease. Really sexy, really attractive ease. The kind that made a woman want to see if she could rile a man up. One way or another.

Her gaze raked over him, from powerful thighs to flat, hard torso, to broad shoulders. When she got to his face, she found an amused smile and an arched brow.
Busted.

“Truth,” she said in warning because he’d caught her ogling. No way was she letting him think he could distract her so easily. Even though, Shane
was
six-plus-feet of crazy sexy distraction.

“Okay. We were there because we needed more information about tomorrow night’s delivery,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And we took some steps to try to get it.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she closed it just as quick. Crystal couldn’t believe he’d been so forthright. “Oh.” But what the heck might those steps have been? She hadn’t seen them do anything unusual or suspicious.

“My turn again?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Uh, sure.”

“Why were you so worried about Jenna’s coming to Confessions? Truth.”

She guessed she couldn’t dish out that demand if she wasn’t willing to pony up in return. “Because it’s not safe for her. I don’t want her getting tied up with the people there at all.”

“It’s not safe for her, but it’s safe for you?” he asked in a steady voice, but the bulge of his crossed arms belied the tension the topic wrought in him.

A sense of déjà vu washed over Crystal. Jenna had asked her something very similar earlier in the day. Or yesterday, at this point. “The truth is, no, it’s not particularly safe for me, either.” Shane’s brow raised, like maybe she’d surprised him with her candor, too. “But I’m already caught up in it, and Jenna’s not. She’s going to graduate from college, pursue a career, and have a life free of strippers and . . .” All the bad things from which Crystal wanted to protect Jenna jumbled together in her mind and stole her voice. It was just . . . so much.

Shane sat forward, his expression intense, his eyes hot, liquid silver in the light of the streetlamp. “And what? Come on, Crystal. Talk to me.” His hand landed on her knee, warm and heavy and grounding. And for just a moment, she had the strongest urge to ask him to call her by her real name.
Sara, call me Sara
. Just once, she’d love to hear it from his mouth.