Hard as You Can (7 page)

And it
was
coming. This year, she and Jenna were going to have the happiest Christmas ever. Because by then, they’d be somewhere new and far, far away.

In the grand scheme of things, eight months was nothing.

She just had to keep out of trouble in the meantime.

That meant no more taking chances. And definitely no helping strange, beautiful men. No matter what.

S
HANE SIGHED AS
he positioned his truck on the street so he wouldn’t miss Crystal leave. The trip to the club hadn’t been a complete waste.

Before he’d found Crystal, Shane had managed to place listening devices at the ordering station on the bar, near the bar’s phone, and in both public restrooms. He’d also double-checked that the receiver-transmitter that Easy had wired into the exterior cable the night before was still intact. That piece was key, enabling Marz to do some sort of technical voodoo whereby he could remotely access the live feeds the mics picked up. Or something. Shane loved the man like a brother, but Marz’s technospeak had the power to put him right into a coma. They still needed eyes and ears in the private spaces of Confessions, but it was a start.

Situated among a run-down strip of restaurants, dive bars, and stores gone out of business, the club’s property dominated the whole side of the block, a hotbed of activity in the midst of the otherwise subdued street. It was one of those neighborhoods through which the cops never patrolled and taxis never drove without a call specifically bringing them there.

Shane studied the club’s points of ingress and egress, assembling a mental catalog of the building in case he needed to return. But his thoughts keep coming back to Crystal.

She was more than a survivor—which the demand to hit her had already told him. She was also a fighter. Which was good. Whether she knew it or not, they were in this thing together, and she was going to need to be smart and she was going to have to be strong. That she’d come at him with all kinds of hellfire—all the while acting like he was just another customer—was reassuring. Not to mention damn hot.

Jesus, she was a slight little thing in his arms, tall and lean and warm. Beautiful curves and smooth skin. A man could lose himself in a body like hers.

And someone had taken a hand to her.

As he sat in the cab of his truck, a big bucket of rage parked itself in the center of his chest. When he’d seen the handprint under the extra layers of her makeup, it’d taken everything he had to not react in a way that would draw attention. He’d put her in harm’s way enough. Clearly.

But one thing was for goddamn sure. Whoever’s hand matched that print wouldn’t need two gloves come winter.

Just like Shane had seen what she’d tried to hide, he’d learn who’d hurt her. In the Army, Shane had been known for seeing what others missed. Like the inked eagle sprawled across his back, he excelled at sighting his prey from far, far away and attacking with a speed and accuracy that never gave them a fighting chance.

The sonofabitch who hurt her would never know what hit him. On second thought, yeah, he would. Abusers were bullies. Cowards. And Shane wanted to see the fear in the man’s eyes when he made him pay.

About twenty-five minutes later, movement caught his attention. A red truck made its way from the back of the lot to the gate at the street. With Crystal in the driver’s seat. Bingo. She had to leave at some point, and it would be easier to talk to her away from all the eyes in the club.

Crystal turned onto the street and passed him. He let two other cars go by before pulling out behind her. Bright and big as the truck was, he didn’t need to be aggressive with the tail. He could keep track of her just fine. And the fact that she was the Mother Teresa of drivers—obeying every traffic law to a tee—helped a lot, too. He found it oddly endearing since his foot was normally an anvil of pure lead when he got behind the wheel.

Speed was a fucking awesome distraction from the shit in his head.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into a garden-apartment complex just outside the city line. Shane kept going straight, ditched his F-150 about a half block down the street, then hightailed it on foot, keeping to the shadows, until he saw her truck.

Crystal sat behind the wheel. Still. Head back. From this distance, it almost looked like she was sleeping. He didn’t want to scare her, but in case she lived with someone, maybe he should approach her while she was—

A strange moan caught his attention. His gaze whipped to the right, to the outdoor stairwell of the building he approached.

A girl sat on the next-to-the-bottom step. One moment, she had her arms around drawn-up knees. The next, she went rigid and started convulsing.

Shane was immediately in motion.

The seizure forced her muscles to contract, forming her into a ball that made her fall down the last two steps.

He went to his knees beside her, his medic training kicking in without a second thought. Gently, he rolled her to her side in case she vomited, then he whipped off his jacket and slid it under her head.

There was nothing else to be done until it was over. Damnit. The medical identification bracelet she wore announced her epileptic condition, so Shane held off on calling 911. If the seizure wasn’t too severe, she might be lucid within another minute and could tell him how best to help.

Aw, damn. This girl has red hair like—

“Oh, my God, what are you doing?” came a voice from behind him.

Crystal.

This was
so
not how he’d wanted to reveal himself. “This woman is having a seizure.”

She went to her knees beside him. “I’m here, Jenna. Hang on.” Worry poured off her as the younger woman’s muscles contracted, and her eyes rolled back. “She’s my sister.”

Yeah, he’d figured that much out. “She’ll be okay,” he said.

“I’ve been taking care of her for years. I don’t need you to tell me she’ll be okay,” she said, her tone equal parts anger and fear, beautiful green eyes flashing. “What are you, anyway?” Her gaze dragged over the holstered gun under his arm.

“Former Army medic.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” Crystal bit out in a hushed voice.

“No. You told me to leave Confessions. Which I did.”

“Yeah. And then you followed me home. Right?” She nailed him with a stare.

Shane’s gut clenched. No defense there. Instinct told him the truth was the only chance he had to keep her from shutting him out for good. “Yes. I really need your help. I thought maybe it would be easier for you to talk away from the club.”

Jenna’s muscles went slack on a groan, recapturing their attention. Her eyelids lifted sluggishly, as if they were made of five-pound weights.

“Okay, sweetie, just hang in there. I’ll get you inside,” Crystal said, sliding her hands under the other woman’s shoulders.

Shane gripped his thighs and forced himself still. “Let me help,” he said, itching to just pick Jenna up since it was pretty damn clear Crystal wasn’t going to be able to move her unconscious like this. But he sensed that doing it without her permission would bring down all sorts of shutters, and so far he wasn’t making great headway in winning her over.

The debate played out across her expression, then her gaze dropped to Jenna’s face. She stroked her sister’s cheek and sighed. “Okay. But just because I know I can’t get her up the steps like this. And she could be out of it for a good half hour.”

Nodding, Shane scooped up his coat and the woman and rose to his feet. She couldn’t weigh more than a buck twenty soaking wet. Jenna was totally out, exhaustion from a severe epileptic seizure often sent a person into a sleep state immediately afterward and left them drained for the next day or two. Crystal had a damn lot on her plate. Even more than he’d known.

For a moment, Crystal mother-henned over her sister in his arms, as if making sure he wasn’t hurting her. With a resigned expression, she finally said, “This way.”

As he followed Crystal up the set of concrete steps, he realized he’d learned something important about her tonight. She didn’t like to receive help. And she didn’t like to ask for it. But she would if her
sister
was the one who needed it.

Damn if he didn’t respect that.

And, Jesus, if he’d thought Crystal sexy with too much skin showing, she was even sexier in the tee and faded jeans, her hair swept into a long ponytail. Damn, even the painted toes sticking out of her flip-flops intrigued him.

At the door, she stopped and looked around, like she was making sure no one noticed them, then she let him in.

The apartment was small and plain, but clean and organized. Crystal led him through the combination living-dining room decorated in shades of blue and past the galley-style kitchen to a narrow hallway at the back. Three doorways stood in the dimness of the space, a bathroom and presumably each of their bedrooms. They entered the one on the right, and Crystal clicked on the small lamp on the bedside table.

The orderliness of the rest of the apartment stopped at Jenna’s bedroom door.

The room was like a bookstore with a double bed in one corner. One of those old, used bookstores where it was possible the removal of a single book from the shelf might bring the whole place collapsing in on itself. Towering stacks of books sat on every flat surface, including the carpeted floor, and one whole wall was lined with overflowing shelves.

“So, she likes to read, then,” he said as he gently laid Jenna onto the rumpled comforter. Colorful flowers and butterflies on a white background. A butterfly mobile hung from the ceiling in front of one window. Shane resisted the urge to check that Molly’s necklace still lay safe in his pocket. And to think this girl’s apparent fascination with his sister’s favorite creature was some kind of a sign.

Crystal smirked and busied herself with the covers. “What gave it away?”

It wasn’t the smile he’d been going for, but it was a start. He hoped.

Jenna’s breathing was raspy—not unusual after a seizure, and Crystal sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her palm over the younger woman’s forehead. “So, uh . . .” She frowned. “You were a doctor in the Army?”

Shane studied the reluctant expression she wore, the lines of worry settled into her forehead, the way the soft, red waves of her ponytail cascaded over her shoulder. “I cross-trained as a medic.”

On a long sigh, Crystal shook her head and stood. “Well, thank you for helping her. I . . . I don’t know how I would’ve gotten her inside . . .” Her gaze landed everywhere but on his.

He frowned, sensing the good-bye from a mile out. “I’m glad I was here.”

She hugged herself. “You should go.”

And there it was. “Crystal—”

She gestured to be quiet and led him out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind them. In the dimness of the hallway, she looked up at him, a war of emotions on her face. “You can’t be here.”

“Why not?” he said. Not only did he need her help, but the fact that she and her sister might need his had his feet rooted firmly in place. All of a sudden, his brain assembled the last few minutes into a puzzle picture he didn’t like. “Wait. Is she not receiving treatment for the epilepsy?”

Crystal’s eyebrows slashed downward, and outrage dropped her mouth into an oval. “Of course she’s receiving treatment.”

Shane held his hands up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It just seemed like you might want my help.
For her,
” he added.

She didn’t school her expression fast enough, and Shane saw the rightness of his analysis.

“Come on, Crystal. What’s going on?”

She turned on her heel and walked the short distance to the living room. “You really need to go.”

Shane sat down on the well-worn denim couch and crossed his boot over his knee.

She gawped. It was almost comical how expressive her face could be. When she let it.

“What’s going on?” he repeated.

“I don’t even know you.”

“That’s why I was hoping we could talk.” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the large flat-screen mounted to the opposite wall. Beneath it sat a bookshelf with a variety of high-end equipment—DVD player, receiver, stereo, speakers. Sweet setup, but not a single piece of it matched the worn-out nature of the rest of the women’s belongings. Odd, since Crystal didn’t strike him as the type to splurge on luxuries, not when the woman’s truck was likely so old it was flirting with a historic vehicle designation.

She arched an eyebrow. “You can’t be here.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true. Jesus, if—”

Shane was off the couch and in front of her. “If what?” He tucked a few bronze wisps off her face and behind her ear, then let his fingers graze her cheekbone. The gentleness belied the storm whipping up inside him at the near reference to her tormenter.

She stepped back. “It doesn’t matter.”

Like hell it doesn’t.
Crossing his arms, Shane waited.

“God, I can’t get rid of you.” Exasperation had her throwing up her arms.

“I specialize in pain in the ass, darlin’.” He smiled, forcing himself to gear down the intensity.

“Well, congratulations, because you clearly graduated with honors.”

He grinned and watched as she twisted her lips to avoid doing the same. The problem was clearly that she didn’t think she should talk, but his gut told him she wanted to. That she was dying to. “I just want to be your friend, Crystal.”

All traces of humor disappeared from her face. “I don’t have friends.”

“You don’t have them? Or you’re not allowed to have them?” Shane worked hard to keep his voice neutral.

“The reason doesn’t matter. And it’s none of your business.”

Goddamn. Had he ever worked this hard to get a woman to warm up to him? Far from making him back off, the strength of her defenses had him worrying about why she felt she needed them.

He closed the distance between them. “Okay, no friends, then. But I could still help you and Jenna.”

She sighed and looked him in the eye. “We don’t need your help.”

Just then, a
thump
and a muffled cry sounded from the back of the apartment.