His gaze was hard and lethal as steel. “I saw you run past the door.”
“And?” she said, exasperation using up every bit of her patience.
“I was worried.”
He was . . . worried? Even after he saw me . . . ? “Why?” she said.
He muttered under his breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. “I take it that was Bruno?”
Crystal’s gaze dropped to the floor, the one she wished would open up and swallow her. She nodded.
“Well, I saw him grab you, Crystal. He might as well have mauled you—” Shane raked his fingers through his hair, messing up the neatly combed style that highlighted the blond.
Crystal grabbed his hands. “Don’t do that. You’re messing up your comb-over,” she said. Using her own fingers, she straightened his hair, all the while the realization sank in that he wasn’t mad because she’d kissed Bruno, he was mad because Bruno had kissed her.
Shane went still under her touch. Her face heated and, sure enough, his gaze blazed at her. She yanked her hands away. “You have to leave—”
“Not yet.” A raw, aggressive masculinity poured off him, and Shane shook his head. “Not until you hear what I have to say.” He stepped closer.
“But, Shane—”
“No. What he did out there, that wasn’t okay with you. Jesus. I could see it in your eyes, your body, the way your fucking hands shook.” He heaved a deep breath, like he was attempting to calm himself. “And if it wasn’t okay with you, it’s sure as hell not okay with me.” Closer, yet. So close his chest brushed hers. “In point of fact, I have a major fucking problem with a male forcing a woman to do anything,” he said, his eyes burning with molten silver. “But let me be clear, Crystal. Seeing him all over you like that would do bad things to me even if you wanted his attention. So my intentions here”—he pursed his lips and shook his head—“they’re not all honorable. Because I want you. I want you so bad I can hardly breathe.”
The room spun around Crystal, and butterflies looped within her belly. “Shane,” she whispered, dumbstruck by his declaration. Nervous energy exploded within her until she thought she might burst into a thousand pieces. “Please. We can talk later,” she rushed. “You have to go.”
“You promise? Because I’m not done here. Not by a long shot.”
The dark temptation of his words rushed heat through her blood, but the longer he remained, the more fear drowned out all her other reactions. “Yes, yes. Just go.”
He nodded, anger receding from his expression, but something just as hot rolling in behind it. Desire.
Shane leaned down . . . and kissed her on the forehead.
And as much as she freaking longed for his kiss on her lips, what he’d done was even more perfect. The exact opposite of Bruno’s aggression. He didn’t just talk the talk, he walked the walk, too. And in her world, that meant everything. Words were cheap and easy.
Shane peeked out the door and took off.
Staring at the closed door in front of her, Crystal pressed her hands to her chest. Not wanting to lose the feeling suddenly expanding within. Because the constant sensation of emptiness that had left her cold for so many years was gone, replaced by something new. Foreign. Scary.
Something she should try to ignore.
Something she should push away.
Something that could hurt her in ways Bruno’s hands and Church’s possession never could.
Crystal—no, Sara—was very likely falling for Shane McCallan.
Chapter 12
Shane ducked through the curtain and held up his phone to the bouncer doing a fortunately piss-poor job of guarding the back of Confessions. “Found it,” he said with a nod. The guy barely acknowledged him, but it was no skin off Shane’s nose, because Crystal had promised she would talk to him.
And that promise had calmed some of the cyclone of rage that had whipped up inside him when he’d seen Crystal run past the curtain after Bruno had manhandled her. Goddamn but it had taken every ounce of discipline he’d ever had to restrain himself from marching back that hall and tearing the big goon off of her. Only the certainty that doing so would’ve been a disaster for their mission and for Crystal had held him in check. Still, the fact that Crystal had said she had no choice but to work here put her relationship with that asshole in a whole new light. And not a good one.
Shane threaded through the growing crowd in the bar, and their table came into view. Except . . . “Where’s E?” he asked as he sat.
“Never a dull moment,” Beckett said as he nodded toward the bar.
Following Beckett’s gaze, Shane found Easy, obviously talking to someone at the bar, but the guy was so big Shane couldn’t see around him. Not that Shane had a lot of room to talk after cutting out to check on Crystal, but they didn’t really have time to chat up the clientele. And then Easy turned and guided someone through the crowd.
Not just anyone. Jenna.
“Oh, fuck a duck,” Shane said under his breath, his scalp prickling. What the hell was she doing here when Crystal had told her explicitly to stay away? Had she actually come to confront Bruno? And, Jesus, the thought of her hanging out alone in a strip club known to traffic young, vulnerable women made Shane want to hurl.
“Charlie Mike,” Marz said, the call sign telling them all to continue mission and basically stay chill. And roger that, because they had to get her ass out of here before she had a chance to confront Bruno or Crystal saw her and freaked out. Both had a higher-than-average likelihood of making tempers and other things go kaboom.
Arm around her shoulder, Easy gave a hopeful motherfucker looming behind Jenna a withering glare and guided her toward their table with all the ease in the world. She went along well enough, but questions and skepticism shone brightly in her blue eyes.
Shane got his first good look at Crystal’s younger sister, at least his first look at her conscious. Wearing black jeans, black Chucks, and an old concert T-shirt gave her a college-grunge-meets-girl-next-door vibe that was drawing attention because it was clearly way the hell out of place for Confessions. And damn if she wasn’t pretty close to a carbon copy of Crystal, except shorter, curvier, and with darker red hair.
“Who’s your friend, E?” Shane said with a false enthusiasm in his voice as he rejoined the group.
“This is Jenna,” Easy said as he offered her his seat. She slipped into it, her expression part curiosity and part recognition that she was maybe in over her head. “She’s just waiting to see her sister, who works here.” Gone was the subdued version of Edward Cantrell they’d seen the past few days. In his place was a totally engaged and deceptively calm man Shane knew was ready to pounce on the first thing that made a wrong step in his—or rather, her—direction.
And Shane approved. Because beyond the trafficking, they didn’t know the whole universe of what Crystal thought made this place unsafe for Jenna. So high alert was the right way to play it.
“I see.” Shane reached his hand across the table. “I’m Shane McCallan, darlin’. Nice to meet you.” Again.
She returned the shake and gave him a weak smile. “Hi. I’m Jenna,” she said, staring at Shane like she was trying to place him.
“Well, hell. While we’re at it, I’m Marz,” he said, extending his hand, too. “And this big ugly lug is Beckett.”