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?”