Laura Kaye - Hard As You Can

Grousing and kicking at things, Shane humped his way up the rain-slicked trail. Within minutes, he’d returned to the opening to the back of the apartment complex. Crystal was nowhere to be seen, of course. Since he’d spooked her by coming on too strong.

What he really wanted to do was hike up those steps, knock on her door, and make her believe he had her best interests at heart. But his gut told him that’d be a big mistake. Huge. If he pushed right now, she might lock down for good.

Which meant he was going to have to sit on his hands and bide his time.

Retracing his steps to the next building over, Shane paused and surveyed the lot. Everything looked clear, but he still didn’t know how this Bruno asshole had learned about his visit last night. If someone was watching Crystal’s place, though, they weren’t likely to be as interested in this building.

Why the hell did this woman have him wound so tight, anyway? At first, he’d been sure her vulnerability had been her appeal. She’d been a chance to add some tallies to his side of the great cosmic scorecard. And God knew he needed ’em. He’d been an asshole to ever reduce her to that, but it had been his own issues talking, not any true reflection of who Crystal was.

Now, it was more than that.

Maybe it was that she didn’t just need help, but she gave it freely, too. To Jenna. To him.

And that she was strong. And brave. And smart. And . . . fuck’s sake.

Finding the lot quiet save for the steady shower, Shane darted toward his truck. Inside, he grabbed a towel from behind the seat and scrubbed it over his hair and face.

He’d give her the night to cool off, then try to talk to her tomorrow. Apologize. He really hadn’t meant to scare her off. Damnit.

Throwing the truck into gear, Shane left. A new thought crept into his head.

Maybe it was for the better that this had happened. Wanting to help Crystal was one thing, getting involved with her a whole other. And every time Shane let his emotions get involved, his brain turned to shit. Right now, that was something he couldn’t afford. His team, his mission, and his honor demanded more. Demanded better.

And he was duty-bound to give them everything.

So, he’d help her if he could. But no more dancing, touching, or kissing, for God’s sake. He had to go totally hands off.

Imagining not touching her again was like a kick to the gut, but no one ever said sacrifices were supposed to be easy.

So, fine. From now on, he’d keep his distance. With everything else going on, it shouldn’t be that goddamned hard.

You’re back. Finally,” Marz bellowed across the gym at Shane the minute he walked through the door. Hyped-up about something. Business as usual for the guy.

Shane joined Marz, Beckett, and Easy sitting on metal folding chairs around the computers in the back of the room.

“Go for a swim?” Beckett asked, smirking.

Shane glared. As if his wet jeans weren’t chafing his hide enough, now Murda had to ride him. “Everybody’s a fucking comedian,” he grumbled, tugging his damp tee away from his skin.

“What crawled up your ass?” Amusement danced in Beckett’s blue eyes.

Turning a chair around, Shane straddled it and sat. “My own damn stupidity.”

“Things didn’t go well with the woman?” Easy asked in a flat voice. Sitting backward on the chair with his arms braced on the backrest, Easy’s position mirrored his own.

Shane looked the guy over. Bloodshot eyes. Dark circles. All of them were run ragged, weren’t they? The combination of the hell of the past year and the crisis of the past days. “Yes and no. Crystal volunteered the information I picked up on the bugs last night, so she confirmed her reliability.”

Beckett arched a brow. “What’s the no?”

Tugging his fingers through his damp hair, Shane heaved a breath. “She didn’t have any further specifics on the marine terminal. And I pushed her too far.” He waved a hand. No way he was sharing how he’d pushed her. He wasn’t a glutton for punishment, after all. “It’ll be all right. I’ll fix it.” Maybe. Blinking away that train of thought, Shane looked to Marz. “Why were you so happy to see me? You know, besides my general awesomeness.”

Marz pushed out of his chair, big grin on his face, and held out his hands. “I’m getting married!”

Shane sighed. The expressions on the other two said they’d already been down this road. “All right. I’ll bite.”

“I think the appropriate sentiment is ‘congratulations’,” Marz said, crossing his arms and feigning insult.

“Just spill the brilliance of whatever this is about,” Shane said.

“Only because you acknowledged its brilliance.” Marz sat, excitement rolling off the guy. “I figured out how to solve the problem of getting us eyes and ears in the back of Confessions.”

“By getting married?”

“By pretending to get married. And what does every pretend groom need?” Marz’s grin was full of anticipation.

“A bride?” Shane said.

Marz rolled his eyes and waved his hands. “Okay, but what else?”

Shane looked between the three of them. And then the lightbulb went on. “A bachelor party,” Shane said.

Marz clapped his hands. “Ding ding ding. Give the man a cigar.”

Yup. The idea was, in fact, brilliant. Really brilliant. “I assume there are private rooms in the back for parties or something?”

“Precisely,” Marz said, turning his monitor toward the other three men. The Confessions Web site promised discerning gentlemen a night they’d never forget with the sexiest, most exotic women in Baltimore.

Like, say, Crystal.

Shane swallowed the growl the stray thought beckoned. He read farther down the screen. “Says the rooms have to be reserved in advance.”

Beckett looked up from his phone and gave a small smile, or what passed for a smile with the hard-ass. “He’s way ahead of you, man.”

“True dat,” Marz said, reclining in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head. “While you were out chasing girls”—he waggled his eyebrows—“I got us a Plan B in the form of a bachelor party. We’ve got an appointment to see the private rooms tonight at eight.” He tapped his hand against a small box. “And I put together a couple different types of devices depending on what kinds of access we manage to gain while we’re in there.”

“Nice. Did you actually schedule a date for a party?”

Marz laughed. “Told them I was doing the deed on Saturday to make the appointment time-sensitive. So the party is Friday night.” He waved a hand. “We’ll just cancel it.”

“Who’s going?” Shane asked.

“The four of us,” Marz said. “Make it seem like a group of friends just hanging out together.” Beckett and Easy voiced their agreements. “I think Nick’s gonna sit this one out. Charlie’s going downhill, and Becca’s worried. She’s holding it together like a champ, but Nick’s not going to want to leave them.”

Damn. Shane had been so wrapped up in Crystal, he’d nearly forgotten about Charlie. And there was the problem in a fucking nutshell. “What did her friend say after he saw Charlie? Did you talk to him?”

“Murphy? I did,” Easy said. “Seems like a stand-up guy. Recognized things were dire. Supposed to be back around eleven with his rig and everything y’all need.”

Need. As in, for the surgery. Sonofabitch. What they were contemplating doing was a helluva lot more complicated than anything he’d ever handled before. What if it didn’t work, and Charlie got worse? Even a blind hog had to find an acorn now and then. Wasn’t it about their turn?

“We’ll get you back in time to help with that,” Marz said.

Which meant . . . Aw, hell. Would Crystal be there tonight? Shane scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to remember if she’d mentioned her work schedule.

“What?” Marz asked.

“Crystal. I should give her a heads-up. If I surprise her in there, and she gives away that she knows me, it could be bad for us and her.” Shit. So much for giving her the night to calm down. But who could’ve predicted Marz would get fake-engaged in the three hours he’d been gone.

“Guess you better get to whatever fixing things you need to do, then,” Beckett said, expression serious.

Shane struggled to yank his phone from his wet jeans pocket. He pressed a button and put the cell to his ear.

Straight to voice mail.

“Damnit,” he said. He’d called her this morning to see how Jenna was doing and gotten the same result. Though, if she was hiding the phone, maybe she’d turned it off, too. It was what he’d do in the same situation. “Marz, can you pull up some ears on her place.” He glanced at his watch. After five.

A few keystrokes later, Marz nodded. For a long stretch of minutes, the apartment on the other end of the devices sounded quiet, only occasional, small shuffling noises to indicate someone might be there. All four of the guys stared at the speakers like there was something to watch, their seriousness reflecting their understanding of what could happen to an informant who was outed.

Knock, knock. “Jenna? Can I come in?” Crystal. Bingo. Silence stretched out before another round of knocking. “Jenna? Please?”

Shane frowned. Crystal sounded almost upset. He imagined the expression she’d worn right before she’d bolted from the woods, and his chest squeezed.

“Jen, this apartment is seven hundred square feet. You can’t avoid me forever.”

Marz arched a brow and held out his hands like he was asking what was going on. Shane shook his head.