“What is it, Shane?” Easy said, all the humor gone from his voice.
“She’s got”—he swallowed, hard, just from the memory of her ruined flesh under his fingers—“she’s got scars all over her back.”
Easy went still. “What kind of scars?”
“I didn’t see them, but I felt them.” He finally looked at Easy, whose gaze narrowed and brow slashed down. “So I can’t be sure.”
“But?”
I’m pretty damn sure. “I think she’s been whipped.”
Easy’s expression was dark, lethal, rankly pissed off. “Then you need to do something about it. I’ll back you up, a hundred percent. However I can help, you just say the word.”
Shane gave a tight nod. He needed to keep himself buttoned up on this and not fly off the handle. He didn’t want to scare Crystal. He didn’t want to make the team doubt his objectivity. And he certainly didn’t want to do anything that might further jeopardize Crystal’s or Jenna’s safety.
“You need to come clean with the team on all this,” Easy said. “That’s the only way forward.”
“Yeah,” Shane said, feeling the lateness of the hour in every bone in his body. “Roger that.” Laying all this out there and trusting his teammates with it was the right way to go. They’d have his back. They always had. “I will. First thing in the morning.”
Easy nodded, and they both shoved out of the truck. The decision invited a sort of peace into Shane’s psyche, calming at least a little the whirlwind of rage he’d felt since he’d discovered Crystal’s scars.
Inside Hard Ink, they made their way up the stairs, surprised to hear low voices coming from the gym.
Shane keyed in the code and followed Easy inside.
“Look, they threw a party and didn’t invite us,” Easy said, crossing the room.
What the hell was everyone doing up? Nick, Becca, Jeremy, and Beckett all sat around Marz, the only one in his street clothes from earlier in the night and still at work on the computer. Becca in pajamas, she and Nick were stretched out on a blue gym mat on the floor, Jeremy sat on a chair close to Marz, and Beckett reclined in one chair while he propped his feet up on another. Even Eileen was here, currently doing an impression of a fur ball curled up on the blanket covering Becca’s legs.
“No rest for the wicked,” Marz said, pulling an earbud from one of his ears. He glanced up from his monitors, a tired smile on his face.
“Everything okay with Charlie?” Shane asked.
Becca nodded from where she sat on the floor between Nick’s legs. “Yeah, thanks. I just couldn’t sleep for worrying about him.”
“That pretty much went for all of us,” Nick said. “Eventually, we all congregated over here rather than risk disrupting his sleep over at the apartment.”
Shane nodded. “Has he woken up yet?”
Becca smiled, and it was so good to see happiness brightening her face again. “Yeah. And his fever’s down, too.”
Beckett nodded. “We’d been overdue for some good news.”
Damn straight. Shane thumbed over his shoulder. “Is he due for a check? I could go look in on him.”
“No,” Marz said. “I set him up with a walkie-talkie. He’s lucid enough to give a shout if he needs something.”
“Besides, don’t you have some business here?” Easy asked, nodding at the group, a pointed expression on his face.
Right. No sense waiting for the morning with everyone up and at ’em now. Shane pulled a folding chair closer, sat, and rested his elbows on his knees. His head hung on his shoulders, and it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. The combination of exhaustion and worry and anger.
“What’s up, man?” Nick asked, concern clear in his tone.
Shane lifted his gaze and met Nick’s. No sense beating around the bush, not when most of the team already knew. “I’m falling for Crystal.” Despite the fact that he felt every pair of the eyes land on him at the same time, Shane resisted the urge to squirm or look away. He wasn’t used to hanging his laundry out for everyone to see—hell, he wasn’t used to having laundry of this kind at all, but he wasn’t ashamed of what he had to say, either.
Nick’s entire initial reaction involved a single lifted eyebrow, but Becca’s smile was big and immediate. She glanced around the room at the others, and Shane’s gaze followed. Marz wore a small smile and nodded like he approved of Shane’s admission. Jeremy frowned, like he wasn’t sure why Shane had made this a topic of general conversation. And Beckett’s expression remained a careful, serious blank. Easy stood at Shane’s side, a physical manifestation of the promise he’d made a few moments before in the truck.
“And?” Nick asked. Shane wasn’t surprised the man suspected there was more. Nick Rixey’s instincts were almost always spot-on, and Shane knew that was why the guy had been so hard on himself about Merritt’s deceit. But then, they’d all missed that, hadn’t they?
“And . . . things are complicated.” Shane tugged his hands through his hair and remembered the amazing sensation of Crystal’s hands stroking and pulling. “Here’s what I know: Someone is abusing her—probably this guy Bruno—”
“Oh right,” Marz said, retrieving a printout from a stack by his keyboard. “I looked into him while you were gone. Bruno Ashe. Age thirty-four. Known member of the Church Gang. Criminal record. Probable Apostle-level position according to the gang report Becca’s friend lent us last week.”
Shit. Why didn’t that surprise him? Shane nodded and counted off on his fingers. “Okay, so then, a senior Churchman is abusing and controlling her. She’s afraid to meet or talk in her own apartment. Today we overheard her tell her sister she had no choice but to work at Confessions, which is sounding more and more like she’s somehow being forced given Bruno’s position.” Shane shook his head. “And then tonight, I got her to open up a little. She admitted she knows Confessions is filled with gangbangers and drug dealers and killers. And she confirmed—again—that girls are falling down a black hole at Confessions and never being heard from again.”
“Oh, my God. That’s terrible,” Becca said. “This is the waitress who helped you all the other night?”
“Yeah,” Nick said, hugging Becca in against his stomach. He met Shane’s gaze, and Nick’s eyes were equal parts calculating and sympathetic. “I’m gonna say something, Shane, because it needs to be said. I’m not trying to be an asshole or to downplay what is clearly a horrendous situation that Crystal’s caught up in.”
Knowing what was likely coming, Shane gave a tight nod. Tension seemed to thicken the air around them, because they all knew where Nick was about to go—at least the team did.
“Molly,” Shane said, saving Nick the trouble.
“Molly,” Nick said with a nod.
Jeremy frowned and looked around. “Who’s Molly?”
“My kid sister,” Shane said, eyes back on Nick. “I’m not gonna lie. She’s never far from my mind, and this whole thing might’ve started out as a chance to make something right that I’d once gotten wrong, but that’s not what’s at play now.” Shane looked each of his teammates in the eye, wanting them to see his sincerity. “Nick.” Shane’s throat went tight, and he had to clear it. Twice. “I like Crystal. And, at some point—I don’t know when, she’s been whipped.”
Becca’s gasp joined the men’s low curses.
“Before this thing escalates, and she gets caught in the cross fire, I want to bring her here. If she’ll come.” Lacing his hands together, he waited for the blowback.
Nick inhaled to speak, but Jeremy beat him to it. “This is my house, Shane. I don’t know everything that’s going on, but I’m telling you right now that your friend is welcome, and if you need another pair of hands to pack up her stuff and move it over here, just name the time and place. Because what you just described is some major bullshit. And no one deserves to live like that.” Green eyes blazing, Jeremy crossed his arms and nailed Nick with a stare, silently daring him to challenge.