He nodded and arched a brow. “Damn straight. You said we could talk, so I’m talking. Now it’s your turn.”
For a long moment, Crystal debated whether to answer. Why bother? Part of her knew it was an exercise in futility because it wouldn’t change a damn thing. But another part of her, the part that really hadn’t had anyone to share this incredible load with, just . . . wanted . . . one person to hear her. One person to empathize with her. One person to actually know her. She cleared her throat. “He helped me when it counted,” she said, hoping she could leave it at that.
Shane frowned, and his gaze cut from her cheek to her arm, or, rather, to the spot where the bruises were covered by the sleeve of the hoodie. He chuffed out half a laugh. “I spent a lot of years in the Army doing intelligence work. You’re as skilled at answering questions as any of the operatives I ever worked with.”
That’s because it’s a survival skill. One perfected after years of tiptoeing around Confessions, the Church Gang, and Bruno. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not,” she said. “And I thought you were a medic.”
“I trained in both.” He shifted his back against the door to face her and tilted his head. “Why do you work at Confessions? And give me something more than ‘it pays the bills,’ please.”
It pays the bills, all right. The ones racked up by her father. Which didn’t leave much left over for her own. “Nope. Can’t do it. Because that is the reason.” When he pursed his lips, she lifted her hands as if in surrender. “Honest.”
He heaved a long breath and nailed her with a thoughtful stare. “How old are you?”
The unexpected question pulled a bit of a smile out of her. Crystal shook her head. “A hundred and four.” Shane’s brow arched over an amused expression, and she shrugged. “That’s how it feels sometimes. I’m twenty-three.”
His eyes went wide. Apparently, she’d surprised him in return. “You seem older than that.”
A niggle of discomfort slinked into her belly. “Disappointed?”
“You could never disappoint me, Crystal. Let’s get that straight right now. You just have a seriousness about you that reads older. I like it. A lot.” He nailed her with a gaze full of heat and promise.
Crystal hugged herself. “Like I said, a hundred and four. Why? How old are you?” Late twenties she’d guessed when she’d thought about it at all. Bruno was in his thirties, so she was used to hanging around older men.
He smiled. “I’ll be shaking hands with the big three-oh in a few months.”
“Wow. You’re old,” she said.
Shane threw his head back and laughed. “Touché, darlin’. Touché.” His playful, appreciative smile tempted hers. She never teased Bruno because he took almost any attempt at humor as a personal slight. She’d learned that lesson long ago.
After a few moments, Shane’s smile faded away. “Why did it worry you so much that Jenna came to Confessions?”
The age question had been such a softball, she’d nearly forgotten how good he was at asking ones that left her feeling cornered. “Wait. I want to ask another question,” she rushed out, twisting the edge of the blanket in a knot between her fingers.
Shane lifted his hands from his lap, indicating he was open to it. “Ask away.”
Looking him over, she debated for a moment. God, he was really freaking gorgeous sitting there in the near dark. With those big, broad shoulders, the contours of his biceps visible beneath the sleeves of his shirt, and the strong thighs filling out his jeans. “Okay. Here’s what I want to know. Why do you care about any of this? You don’t even know me and Jenna.”
Shane shook his head, and the smug smile he wore was as sexy as it was irksome. “You wasted that one, because I already told you. I care because I like you. And I’m getting to know you better and better.”
The words lifted her up and crashed her back down again. Because she adored his interest in her, but it could never come to anything. And, anyway, he didn’t know everything there was to know about her. If he did, all that growing care of his might disappear. “Okay, then why were you planning a bachelor party at my club?”
He laced his fingers across his flat belly, still the picture of ease. Really sexy, really attractive ease. The kind that made a woman want to see if she could rile a man up. One way or another.
Her gaze raked over him, from powerful thighs to flat, hard torso, to broad shoulders. When she got to his face, she found an amused smile and an arched brow. Busted.
“Truth,” she said in warning because he’d caught her ogling. No way was she letting him think he could distract her so easily. Even though, Shane was six-plus-feet of crazy sexy distraction.
“Okay. We were there because we needed more information about tomorrow night’s delivery,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And we took some steps to try to get it.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she closed it just as quick. Crystal couldn’t believe he’d been so forthright. “Oh.” But what the heck might those steps have been? She hadn’t seen them do anything unusual or suspicious.
“My turn again?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Uh, sure.”
“Why were you so worried about Jenna’s coming to Confessions? Truth.”
She guessed she couldn’t dish out that demand if she wasn’t willing to pony up in return. “Because it’s not safe for her. I don’t want her getting tied up with the people there at all.”
“It’s not safe for her, but it’s safe for you?” he asked in a steady voice, but the bulge of his crossed arms belied the tension the topic wrought in him.
A sense of déjà vu washed over Crystal. Jenna had asked her something very similar earlier in the day. Or yesterday, at this point. “The truth is, no, it’s not particularly safe for me, either.” Shane’s brow raised, like maybe she’d surprised him with her candor, too. “But I’m already caught up in it, and Jenna’s not. She’s going to graduate from college, pursue a career, and have a life free of strippers and . . .” All the bad things from which Crystal wanted to protect Jenna jumbled together in her mind and stole her voice. It was just . . . so much.
Shane sat forward, his expression intense, his eyes hot, liquid silver in the light of the streetlamp. “And what? Come on, Crystal. Talk to me.” His hand landed on her knee, warm and heavy and grounding. And for just a moment, she had the strongest urge to ask him to call her by her real name. Sara, call me Sara. Just once, she’d love to hear it from his mouth.
God, not even my name is mine to do with what I please. Because she couldn’t let herself be that person while she lived this life.
It was a choice, a struggle, a reality Crystal never wanted Jenna to face. Frustration and desire and fear and anger built up in her chest and squeezed her throat. “Damnit,” she finally bit out, dropping her gaze into her lap. “I—I—” In that moment, she realized there was literally no one else in the world to whom she could voice her fears and dreams. She swallowed hard and blurted it out. “I want her to have a life free of strippers and drug dealers and gangbangers and killers and hit men and . . . and . . . girls getting taken and used and sold.” The words spilled out faster and faster as she spoke, like the unusual expression of honesty knew it had to hurry before Crystal shut it down again. She shuddered, her scalp prickling with a nascent panic she’d induced all on her own.
“Crystal—”
She gave a fast shake of her head. “No more,” she said in a strained voice.
Sighing, Shane scrubbed his hands over his face.