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.

Chapter 5

Crystal was down the hall and through Jenna’s bedroom door in an instant. After years of dealing with this, her body reacted instinctively anytime Jenna needed help. Sure enough, Jenna had fallen out of bed and now lay disoriented and struggling to untangle herself from her covers.

“Hold on, Jen, I’m here,” she said, easing the blankets from her body. Jenna looked up at her with a confused stare that made Crystal’s chest ache. The disorientation was normal after one of her seizures. Sometimes she even had memory lapses. She’d been having them more frequently the past few months, but it had been a long time since she’d had one this bad. What in the world had triggered it?

Crystal didn’t know the answer, though she intended to question Jenna about her recent activities when she was well enough. Certain things could bring on an epileptic attack, and Jenna wasn’t always as strict about avoiding those as she needed to be. All Crystal knew was she absolutely hated not being able to do more for her sister when the seizures hit.

“Can I help?” Pretty Boy asked from behind her.

Twin reactions coursed through Crystal. A knee-jerk desire to tell him she’d love his help because, God, it would be so nice to have someone to lean on now and then. And he was a freaking doctor, for God’s sake. Or, medic. Whatever. Given Jenna’s condition, his skills would’ve been at the top of a perfect-man wish list. If she’d ever made such a thing. Which she hadn’t because dreams were for other people. She’d well learned that lesson.

But alongside that yearning for help came the soul-deep certainty that giving in to such a feeling was a one-way ticket to all kinds of trouble. Because this man and her boyfriend were obviously enemies, and Bruno wouldn’t tolerate her being friends with—or, hell, even talking to—this guy even if they weren’t.

Still, she did need to get Jenna in bed. And he was already here . . .

Clearing her throat, Crystal nodded without looking at him. “Would you help me get her back in bed, please?”

He was immediately beside her, heat and strength radiating off of him. “Of course.”

Crystal chanced a glance at him and instantly regretted it. Because his expression was filled with pure earnest desire to help her. To help them. And, no, she hadn’t forgotten that he was hoping for some sort of help from her, too. But he’d never once suggested any of this was a quid pro quo. She rose and gave him room to pick up Jenna.

He lifted her sister and, just like earlier, the gentleness and care with which he handled Jenna almost tempted Crystal to give in . . . to open up . . . One knee braced on the mattress, he leaned forward so he could place Jenna closer to the wall. So she wouldn’t fall out of bed again, so she wouldn’t hurt herself. Crystal didn’t need him to explain why he’d done it because it was exactly what she would’ve done. And there was that temptation again. Causing her stomach to flutter and her heart to race.

Without asking, the man retrieved the blanket from the floor and laid it over Jenna like she was a baby he didn’t want to wake. He was a big guy—tall, broad-shouldered, muscular—and the gun holstered under his arm said he was dangerous, too. But he was also the most gentle, kind man she’d ever met.

God, I need to get him out of here.

Holding a pile of books so it wouldn’t topple, he eased the nightstand a few inches away from the side of Jenna’s bed.

Crystal didn’t know whether to scream or throw herself at him—an odd thought for someone who’d lived through what she had.

“Come on,” she whispered. Not wanting to chance seeing him do one more thoughtful thing, she turned and marched to the door, then glared at him as he crossed the room.

The moment he registered her annoyance was clear because the concerned expression slid off his face in exchange for a confused one. “What?” he whispered, closing the door without making a sound.

And that was when she realized. She’d been on the verge of cursing him out and tossing his unfairly sexy butt out the front door. But she didn’t know who it was she’d be cursing or tossing.

All this time he’d been in her house, and she’d never asked his name.

Smart, Crystal. Real smart.

And as much as she needed to stick with Plan A and make him go, that wasn’t what came out of her mouth. “I don’t even know your name,” she bit out.

He smiled.

Oh, my God, did he smile.

It was a smile that made her think of lazy summer afternoons spent lying in the sun. Warm and sweet and reassuring.

“Well, pardon my manners, darlin’.” He extended his big hand. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m Shane.”

“Shane, huh?” she said, dropping her gaze to his hand as he lowered it to his side again. Because the combination of the Southern lilt to his voice with that smile and that face was too much to take in all at once. “Just Shane?” She peered up under her lashes.

For an instant, those gray eyes narrowed. Assessing. Weighing. No way he was going to tell her his real name. Not after—

“Shane McCallan.” He said it in a low voice, almost a whisper, like he didn’t want anyone but her to hear.

And Crystal nearly gasped. If he’d have hit her, she would’ve been less surprised. Because her gut said he was telling the truth. And, God, that meant he’d just given her all kinds of power. And the intense cast of his gaze told her he was well aware of that, too.

“Shane McCallan,” she murmured, needing to try the name out on her tongue. Shaking away the sensation that the floor might be moving, she gestured him toward the living room.

“Wait,” he said, a thumb pointing over his shoulder. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

She couldn’t stop the eye roll. Because, suuure, why the hell not? He might as well just kick his shoes off and stay for dinner at this point.

He winked and turned for the door.

“Light switch is on the left,” she said.

He closed the door—quietly again—and Crystal stood there for a moment. When she realized she was staring at the door, like maybe she could will him out, she whirled and made a straight shot for the living room. Where she stood again, not knowing what to do with herself.

All at once, she became conscious of the apartment. When her father went to prison, they’d lost the house she and Jenna had lived in their whole lives to legal fees and their father’s debts to Church. And, with Bruno’s help, they’d landed at this inexpensive and not very nice apartment complex with a handful of their belongings they’d managed to hang on to. She’d been damn proud of every one of her garage-sale finds at the time, but now she wondered what Shane saw when he looked around. And would he wonder how a woman with a houseful of obvious hand-me-downs had afforded all the high-end media equipment? The flat-screen TV, various components, and stereo were all Bruno’s doing. His patience with her no-bells-and-whistles TV had lasted about five minutes.

Crystal fought the urge to plump the throw pillows, put her running shoes away, and try to make the yellowed blinds hang straight. She kept the place neat and homey for her and Jenna, but Crystal never worried about what others might think because she never had visitors. She paced into the galley-style kitchen and had to resist washing the breakfast dishes.

Gah! Whatever!

The only person who ever saw the inside of the place besides her and Jenna was Bruno. On a few rare instances, one of his guys had stopped by to see him on business. But Crystal could count the number of times that had happened on one hand.

Speaking of Bruno . . . Crystal tore her cell phone from her pocket and woke up the LED screen. Her shoulders sank in relief. She hadn’t missed any calls or texts while she’d been dealing with Jenna . . . and Shane. Bruno was obsessive about her responding immediately when he contacted her. A missed message could have him showing up at her door.

And that would be really, really bad right now.

Good thing he’d made it clear he wouldn’t be over tonight. And she felt confident in that. Because not only did he have a crisis to handle for Church, but he often stayed away for a day or two after he’d beat her. Like he didn’t want to see the evidence of his handiwork on her skin.