Go All Out E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Protecting her allies means protecting her foes…
 
Trapped in captivity, Harlow Sweeting has to manipulate the pieces on the board to protect the people she loves. Her own future is already lost. All she can do is take the true culprit down with her.
 
Seems simple until a truth is revealed that turns everything upside down. Harlow can’t trust anyone. No one. Nothing she believed is certain, and once again she’s on her own.

 
Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

**Book 3 of 5, HEA, no cheating, series complete**

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2019, 2024 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2019, 2024

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2019

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. It may not be used to train AI software or for the creation of AI works.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

www.scarlettfinn.com

GO NOVELS

Go With It

Go It Alone

Go All Out

Go All In

Go Full Circle

Read them in order for maximized reading pleasure.

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

CONTENTS

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34

1

HARLOW SWEETING COULDN’T have dreamed there would ever be a point in her life when the sound of jail would be her normal. Turned out three months was all it took.

The rules weren’t so bad. Most of them.

Throughout her childhood, rules were standard. Her parents’ rules weren’t quite as stringent as those she had to follow in jail. It wasn’t like she’d grown up under lock and key or without a scrap of privacy. Although her mom probably would’ve preferred it that way.

Six of the seven jail units housed male inmates; only one was designated for women. In total, there were around two hundred and fifty inmates meant to abide by the rules. Her included.

This facility was a change of scene. She’d started her tenure in a compound closer to the city where it was dirtier, more crowded, and scarier… Not that she’d ever let on about the last one.

Anyone who said jail wasn’t an intimidating place was lying. Living in government accommodations made for a tense experience, especially in the first few days. After a while, the routine became easier. Inmates got used to newcomers over time. Though no one was ever “new” for long; the next batch of fresh meat was always just over the horizon.

Learning how to avoid becoming a target was the priority. Eventually, she formed alliances. Friendships would be too strong a word. No one completely trusted anyone else’s story. Being on guard was the only way to ensure staying alive.

After following the line on the floor, she and a bunch of other female inmates waited for the guard to open the visitation room. The familiar jangle of keys and thud of locks was never as optimistic as when she was waiting to get into this room.

Visitation had been a difficult process; more so for those on the outside than her. Lena never came and she understood why. Her little sister wasn’t cut out for jail, even the other side of the bars. Her parents visited. Rupert and Clyde as well. Bale never shied from showing up either.

Each inmate was allowed a maximum of two visits a week. Only two people were allowed at any one time. And, yes, conflicts arose. Her crew were the ones most perturbed if they couldn’t get in. They were the best at helping her forget. Stories of their antics could erase the chains, for a few minutes anyway.

Everyone wanted an explanation.

Everyone, including the man currently waiting for her in the visitation hall.

When going inside, it never mattered how many of the circular tables were occupied, she always pinpointed Ryske like he was standing alone under a spotlight on a darkened stage. From across the room, they zeroed in on each other. Neither blinked. Striding toward him, she’d pretend they were in a nightclub, or at Floyd’s, anywhere except jail. Under his all-consuming scrutiny, she basked in the fantasy for a few seconds. In those fleeting instants, she was a woman going to join a man, nothing else existed.

It never lasted. A noise, a smell, a guard, something would shatter the illusion.

Licking her lips, she anticipated Ryske’s hands before they slid onto either side of her face. They carried on into her hair beneath her ears, scooping her mouth up so he could kiss her as thoroughly as was allowed. Maybe a little more thoroughly than was allowed.

She scraped her nails on his shirt, catching the neck to pull it down and make contact with his tattoo.

“Hey!” the guard against the wall five feet away called.

Ryske stepped back and opened his hands at the guy. “Every fucking week.”

“Shh,” she said, pushing him down onto the bench at his side of the table.

Once seated, they weren’t allowed back up again until the end of the visit. The most they could do was hold hands across the wide table. She didn’t care the seats were uncomfortable, or that she had to perch in a half crouch just to reach him, she just hated that they were so far apart.

“Bet that guy never gets any from his fucking wife,” Ryske muttered over his shoulder.

She squeezed his hands. “Would you please stop starting fights with the guards who get to decide whether or not I get put into solitary?”

“You been a bad girl this week, baby?” he asked, dipping to kiss her knuckles. The guard coughed, Ryske growled in response. “What the hell problem does he have with me kissing your fucking hands? He got a thing for you, baby, huh? I get it. You’re the hottest piece of ass in this place, on the fucking planet. He’s jealous. Well, she’s fucking taken so—”

“Stop swearing, it’s not allowed,” she said, transferring her hand from inside his to on top to stroke his knuckles.

“It’s how I talk. Swearing is how I talk—”

“Crash,” she said. “I’ll get up and walk out of here if you don’t calm down. What’s wrong with you today? You haven’t been riled like this for weeks.” Not since the first visits he’d had to make to her behind bars. “What happened?”

“I talked to Greta,” he grumbled.

Ah, her lawyer. “She told you it’s going to be at least another six months until the trial,” Harlow said, lacing her fingers through his.

“Something about the prosecution gathering evidence. It’s fucking nuts. They said they have you on video going in. That’s their evidence. That’s it. What do they need to gather about that? It’s a flimsy fucking case and they know it.”

If only she could do more to calm him down. None of the truths they faced were easy.

“My blood is at the scene.”

“Because he hit you,” he said. She tried to be subtle about sealing her mouth. “Or because it was there from when he held you prisoner?” Curling her lips around her teeth, she hated they were back here again so soon. From the way he groused, he wasn’t a fan either. “I don’t understand why you won’t talk.”

It broke her heart to see him so frustrated. “Baby, I’ve been telling you since the beginning of this…” Looking him square in the eye, she didn’t blink. “I’m going to be convicted of murder. You said it yourself, twenty years… That’s what we’re looking at.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak. “You have to move on.”

“No.”

“Ryske, I love you. You know that I do. But I won’t let you keep coming here every week and doing this to yourself… It’s crazy… Please tell me the guys are saying the same thing. I talked to Dover and—”

“Yeah, stop fucking doing that. It pisses us off.”

“Calling the bar?”

“Demanding we abandon you.”

Part of her wanted to remind him they hadn’t hesitated to do that before. Except she couldn’t be cruel when they’d been so kind.

Ryske wasn’t a sulker; he didn’t pout. He was cocky and wasn’t great at hearing what he didn’t want to hear. He’d been like that since they met. Nothing about her going to jail had lessened his confidence.

“Bale told me he got his job back,” she said, trying to change the subject.

His scowl deepened. “You want to do that? Sit here and shoot the shit like our entire fucking lives aren’t circling the drain?”

She widened her smile. “Noon told me about Frida. She faked a pregnancy?” Harlow laughed. “That’s funny… I mean, I guess it’s not ha-ha funny, but a girl’s got to be desperate to get into the apartment if she goes to those lengths… None of you liked her?”

“Switching off reality isn’t so easy for me, Trink,” he said. “Guess you’ve got no fucking clue what it does to me to see you in here.” He laid a hand on his chest. “My heart fucking stops every time you walk through that door in that fucking jumpsuit…” He looked away. “It should be me.”

“Hey,” she said, planting her feet on the floor to rise in a subtle crouch that gave her the reach to touch his face and bring his attention back to her. “That wouldn’t change anything… that would just put both of us here. We’ve talked about this. You can’t confess. You can’t. You weren’t even there.”

For a second, he looked into her. “But you were,” he said and snatched her hands closer. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me what happened.” Shaking her head, she tried to retreat, but he just clung tighter. “What is it? What are you protecting? Who are you protecting? I don’t get what the fuck happened that you’d clam up like this. Everything to the cops was ‘no comment.’ You won’t even tell Greta what happened…” No and she’d never shared the reasons why. “She gave me the papers.”

That perked her up. “The power of attorney and medical proxy stuff? Did you sign them?” He nodded. “I don’t have much in the way of assets, some jewelry, that’s about it. There’s some money in the bank and—”

“I don’t want your fucking money.”

“I know that,” she said, sinking down to lay her temple on the table. “I know that, baby… Look at me, Crash.” Their hands still linked, she lay to the side, her head on the table, her smile spread wide. “I was dreaming about you last night… I woke up wet for you.”

She didn’t know if the guard heard the whisper, all she cared about was that Ryske did. “I’m supposed to cheer you up.”

“You do every night at lights out,” she said and sat up to pull their hands in her direction. “Ryske, I wouldn’t have gotten through this without you. You don’t know what our time together means to me. I’m just sorry I… I’m sorry I wasted so much of it.”

His mood a little lighter, he took a turn to be optimistic. “We’re going to have plenty of it after you get out of here.”

That statement only made her sigh. “I’m not getting out of here, Ryske,” she said. “When they sentence me, I could go anywhere. This place is already two hours from Floyd’s.”

“Forty-five minutes for Noon,” he said, and she smiled. “Look, Trink, you can keep telling me to move on and stop visiting. But I don’t care if I have to drive cross-country just to turn round and come back again to make it in time for next visiting. I’ll keep coming for you.” His eyelids sank and his lips curled. “Every time, baby, I come for you every time.”

He was flirting with her and it was working.

“I don’t think I miss anything more than the taste of you,” she whispered. “The other girls talk about good coffee and chocolate cake… All I ever think about is you.”

“I’ll mail you some in your letters,” he said, but couldn’t hold in his own laugh.

It got out even before hers did.

“Think you’d start a riot,” she said. “We women are pretty sex-starved in here…” Harlow glanced around at the tables surrounding theirs. “They’ve noticed how many men come visit.”

“To visit you?”

She shrugged. “My mom’s been the only woman. She only came once. It’s too much for her… I understand that.”

Sure though she was, a part of her felt shame for disappointing her parents.

“Marlowe still coming?”

She nodded, tracing her fingernail around the star on his wrist. “Less now than he did… I told him he’s off the hook for our deal. Don’t think it’s good for business to be associated with a murderess.”

“Said I’d get you one way or another, didn’t I?” he asked, gaining her attention. “By default… I’ll take it.”

“Crash… will you do something for me, baby?”

Narrowing one eye, he was sort of squinting at her, suspicious. “Last time you conned me with that, you told me to let you go. What you want me to do now?”

“Get laid,” she said and he groaned. “Maze told me you haven’t been with anyone since me. Is that true?”

“I haven’t been with anyone except you since we met,” he said, pushing her arm up to show her stars. “And I won’t be with anyone ‘til you’re out of here… Well, guess I should be honest, sometimes you’re with me in the shower.”

“Tease,” she said to his wink. “That’s the last place we did it.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking her hand to his mouth. “Boy, am I glad we did.”

“Sure, otherwise you might not have had the chance to change my mind about shower sex.”

“Told you, baby, you just needed the right guy.”

Sliding her hands away from his, she broke contact and tucked them under the table. “And you need to get yourself the right girl… It’s not me, Ryske. I wish it could be, but… it’s not me.” His expression didn’t change. “Are you hearing me?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not listening to your waffling.”

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that?”

Her question fueled his confidence. “Damn right, baby. Just how much do you want me?” He leaned over the table. “Are your panties soaked through right now?”

It was amazing how he could tease her, and use that damn swagger of his to take her right out of this place. “I’m not wearing panties.”

The guard coughed at them again. This time, Ryske didn’t turn, but his eyes did rise like he was fighting to temper his instinctive desire to lash out or rage. “I don’t know how the fuck you deal with this place.”

“It’s easier when you’re not here,” she said. “I think you bring out the naughty in me.”

“That’s the hope, Trink.”

Sneaking her hands from beneath the table, she slid them across to his again. “Remember the night we met?” she asked, opening her fingers at the same time he did.

Their palms stayed flat on the table, their digits twined.

“Mm hmm.”

“I remember I was nervous to shake Maze’s hand after he told me you were criminals… Now all I dream about at night is riding his best friend raw… It’s amazing how far we’ve come, isn’t it?”

“As long as you’re talking about me, it is. Maze has a few best friends,” he said. The joke lingered without getting much of a laugh. Every second they spent together was one closer to saying goodbye. “You know, baby, we haven’t talked about this for a couple of weeks, but… If you’re gonna keep bringing up the getting laid thing, I’m gonna keep bringing up…”

“We’re not getting married,” she said, digging her nails into the back of his hand. “My goal is to make you forget about me and have a happy life… I can’t fake my death; the best I can do is keep whining at you. Getting married would—”

“We’d get conjugals.”

The wiggle of his brows was either meant to tempt or provoke a laugh, probably both. But she had to be realistic and temper his expectations.

“People get married because they love each other and want to spend their lives together. Just so we can have sex is not a reason. Besides, I’m a lifer. Lifers don’t get conjugals.”

He gritted his teeth in a prologue to the anger that flared his nostrils. “You don’t know what you are. You’re here waiting for trial and I don’t have a fucking clue why you’re not causing more shit about being refused bail. You shouldn’t even fucking be here!”

The last thing they needed was him being detained and tossed in a cell down the hall from hers.

“Hush,” she whispered. “Please, baby, calm down. You know the judge was a friend of Hagan’s, that’s why he refused me bail.”

“That shouldn’t be allowed either,” he grumped.

“Hagan knew most of the judges and city officials. He had close relationships with all of them,” she said. “His charity work wasn’t altruistic.” Her fingertips traced the shape of his long, broad, incredibly talented fingers. “He deliberately donated to the city and departments within it because he never knew who he’d need in his pocket. It was all about favors, about people owing him. Hence how he got Gina to give me a week off, no questions asked… He had the ear of a lot of people…”

“How do you know all that?” She stopped tracing and talking and froze. “Trinket, how do you know that?”

She’d done so well to keep the details of that night hidden. Since the dramatic arrest outside Floyd’s, Ophelia hadn’t come to her aid. The murderess hadn’t come to her at all. The female Hagan was the only other person who knew what happened on the night of the crime. So far, all of law enforcement’s evidence implicated Harlow. She was under no illusions about what the outcome of her trial would be. It seemed futile to drag anyone down with her.

Gathering herself, she attempted to uphold a façade of strength. “He told me.”

“He told you that,” Ryske said, peering into her. “The night it happened.” She nodded. He tightened his hold, probably sensing a crack in her silent resolve. Maybe he saw this as his chance to wedge that crack open. “Harlow, you can tell me anything. You know that, don’t you? Anything, Trink. And if you tell me not to tell anyone, I won’t, even the guys. You before them.”

Harlow didn’t open her mouth for fear of saying something else she shouldn’t. Her carelessness came from exhaustion. It wasn’t easy to sleep in this place. Noise was constant. Sharing with others meant putting up with their habits too. All that was before she even got to how her own thoughts could keep her awake.

Eager hope made him squeeze and shake her hand, coaxing her. “Come on, baby. You were going to tell me. The night you were arrested, you were going to tell me everything.”

“I was.”

“What changed?”

Offering an explanation seemed like the least she could do. If he’d been this tight-lipped, she would be frustrated as well. It felt right to give him something.

“I didn’t know what to say to the cops. I was still trying to figure it out when they told me I’d been identified on the security camera going into the building. I was the only one on camera going to Hagan’s apartment that night. One of the cops at the station recognized me. I’d done some work with him when I was in family services… that’s why I was arrested so fast. They talked to family services, who revealed I had a connection to Floyd’s. They knew that because of how Felipe’s case played out.”

“Yeah,” he said, bobbing his head. “You told me this before.”

“They asked me why I went to Hagan’s.” He nodded, but it took her a minute to answer. “I couldn’t tell them… And I thought, if I couldn’t tell them that, then I couldn’t tell them anything else. I realized if I pulled on one thread that everything would come unraveled… for all of us.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Are you telling me that you’re pleading the fifth to protect the crew?”

Licking her lips, she wished she could get closer to him. “If I tell them why I was there, it will open a can of worms.”

“You can tell me… You can tell me why you were there.”

His frustration was palpable. Ryske was right that she could tell him. Except, it didn’t matter that her trust in him was absolute. He didn’t deserve to shoulder her burden.

Sitting up straight, she considered him. “Crash, I swear, if I ever do get out of here, I will tell you everything. All the time. Always. No lies, just like you said.”

Again, his nostrils flared in a show of irritation. “But you’re damn sure you won’t get out of here… They have the video. They have the blood spot… no fingerprints. No witness.” There was a witness, she’d just chosen to remain silent. Thinking about Ophelia always ignited her adrenaline. Not that she could show Ryske that, so she looked to the perimeter of the room instead. “Or not…”

The curious probing of his tone brought her eyes back to him. “What?”

“I said no witness and you turned away… You think I don’t know you, Trink? I can read your tells.”

“I have no tells.”

“You have tells.”

Goddamn him. “You should think about the future,” she said. The guard pushed away from the wall, a sure sign their time was coming to an end. “You should think about whether or not it’s smart to tie yourself to a girl who’ll never be in your bed again. I love you, Ryske, but we have no future. You have to do whatever it takes to come to terms with that.”

The buzzer rang and she rose in time with her love. They moved closer to each other. Without touching, each appreciated just being in proximity again. She would stand there for the rest of time and be happy with her sentence… if it didn’t mean damning him too.

Tipping her head back, drawn to his gaze, she could feel him everywhere when he looked at her this way.

He brought his hand to the side of her head, his thumb tracked across her cheek. “I love you, Trinket… and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.” He touched her lower lip and she opened to lick the tip of his thumb. “Tease.”

Catching it between her teeth, she circled it with her tongue and closed her lips to suck it free. “You remember what it feels like on your cock?”

The sly ascent of his lips gave him a feral air. “I sure do, baby. Not something a guy forgets in a hurry.”

The back of her hand drifted forward, brushing her fingers across his fly.

“Sweeting!” a guard barked, startling her.

Ryske growled and caught her shoulders.

“I have to go, Crash,” she said, grabbing him to pull him down for a kiss. “I love you.”

Turning to hurry back to the line with the others, she fell into her place in their ranks. For as long as she could, she watched him. He stayed put. Standing there. Watching her right back.

Other visitors were leaving, ignoring their inmates, but not her Crash.

Ryske’s eyes stayed on her until the last second. Just before she disappeared back into the corridor, he winked.

She could be holding him back; his life was on pause because of her. But she couldn’t stop reacting to him, couldn’t stop loving him, and she feared that would undo them both.

2

THREE DAYS LATER, just moments before the phones were turned on, a guard pulled her out of the hall. The timing couldn’t have been worse, calling Ryske was the highlight of her day. He’d always pick up within three rings. It gave her a thrill to tease him for being so needy.

It was just a tease though. It flattered her how open he was about his feelings for her. He didn’t apologize to anyone for them either.

Within days of her being incarcerated, he’d handed over a number for the cellphone he’d bought. Only she had the number, no one else. It was a burner, nothing fancy, but he needed that link to her, and she wasn’t averse to having her own dedicated line to him. For everyone else, he still used the usual Maze-created answering service.

The guard led her down the sterile gray corridor to one of the private interview rooms; somewhere she’d only been once during her time in this location. He opened the door and stepped back to let her inside.

Her lawyer was seated at the central table. She paused, unsure whether to feel dread or relief. The visit was unexpected, which could spell bad news… Good news was unlikely; there wasn’t much of that these days. During the fight to get her moved, the two of them had seen each other often. Usually there was a call first. It was unlike Greta to just show up.

Greta Mann was a good lawyer. For the most part, she was thorough and personable. Though, Harlow had no idea how well the woman would stand up in court fighting a trial stacked against them. Defending a client who refused to provide any information posed many challenges. The lawyer’s record was good, but Harlow valued killer instinct more. Given the lack of reasonable doubt, the only way they’d catch a break was if they played dirty.

“Harlow,” Greta said, standing up and gesturing to the opposite chair.

There was nowhere else to sit and the chair was fixed to the ground, so she didn’t really have a choice about where to park her butt. Since being arrested, she’d noticed there were a lot of pleasantries put on for show or to alleviate awkward moments. Pleasantries that were actually obligations, not suggestions.

“What’s going on?” she asked, lowering herself into the chair.

“Something happened,” Greta said.

Obviously, or else the lawyer wouldn’t be there. Concern spiked. Her father and Rupert were supposed to be visiting that afternoon. What if Greta told her something had happened to one of them?

“What? What happened?”

“It’s… We went to court this morning. I called for an emergency session and submitted a motion to dismiss. Two days ago, there was a robbery. An evidence locker was ransacked, they think it was kids; there was a lot of graffiti and criminal damage. One officer was seriously injured. Evidence in a few cases was taken or destroyed. Chain of custody is going to be questionable in all of them now. We didn’t know for sure at first, but one of the cases missing evidence was yours.”

This was a lot to take in. Greta was good at relaying information; she just struggled to keep up. Wow, this was… uh…

“What does that mean?” she asked to be sure.

Greta smiled. “I think the whole case against you will be thrown out. There’s no witness or confession, the video and the blood were all they had. Without them, there’s no case…” Her smile widened. “Your silence has helped us. They don’t even have a statement from you placing you at the scene.”

“So, wait…” she said. “They’re throwing the case out?”

“No,” Greta said, losing her smile. “Because of the break-in, there are a dozen cases that need to be reviewed as a matter of urgency. It’s all very embarrassing; they want to keep it as quiet as possible. The judge is going to hear petitions on each case individually after the State’s Attorney reviews them. He’s been given six weeks to decide which cases he wants to pursue. He’ll have to persuade the judge there’s compelling enough evidence for conviction. Pending the review, the judge has agreed to release you on an ankle monitor. You’ll have to stay at your parents and only leave there for court. But, providing no other evidence surfaces, I have complete faith that the judge will grant my motion to dismiss.”

What did…? She didn’t know what to… how to… this was unbelievable. “You’re saying… I can be free?”

“They’ll release you today, right now,” Greta said, standing up. “I’m going to be with you while it’s worked out. They’re getting the papers now. You’ll be transported to your parents’ home and fitted with an ankle monitor.”

She couldn’t absorb it. Her sentence just dropped from twenty years to twenty minutes. For the time being at least.

Ryske.

“Wait, who knows about this?”

Greta smiled. “I haven’t called Ryske. Only your parents… I don’t think the State’s Attorney will be spreading this around.” Neither would her parents. A potential felon in their house? What a scandal! “The State’s Attorney’s office may have notified the victim’s next of kin.”

This was unbelievable. There were moments of serendipity in life, but this was almost too much to comprehend. Even if she ended up being convicted, this interim reprieve was a gift. Just being granted a short time away from this place, breathing clean air again, was something many inmates wouldn’t experience.

Being in a stupor over how it had come about didn’t mean she’d snub the opportunity.

She was going home.

***

GETTING OUT OF JAIL was a blur. Harlow wasn’t allowed much time to grab her stuff and tell the girls she’d been switched to house arrest. They had a dozen questions she couldn’t answer, she had all the same ones herself.

Her release involved a lot of paperwork and shuffling from here to there. At her request, Greta agreed not to call Ryske. She wanted to tell him herself. Revealing her freedom would be fun. The interrogation after wouldn’t be. Especially given she had no idea how they’d struck it lucky.

Regardless of the confusion, he’d be over the moon. Thrilled that she wasn’t in jail anymore and that he’d been right.

The only downside to her freedom was the awkward dilemma it posed. She’d promised Ryske if she got out, she’d tell him everything. They both wanted her out of jail. Only one of them wanted to talk about how she’d ended up there in the first place.

Staying at her parents’ house might be tricky.

Until she started to recognize the streets they drove through, she hadn’t given that situation a lot of consideration. Only when landmarks became familiar did it hit her that this was real. Ryske wouldn’t be the only one with questions… her family would have them too. They knew even less than her lover.

Freedom wasn’t as simple as getting out of the police car and returning to normality. Her life would never be what it had been. Not that there was any kind of normality for her before jail.

While mourning Ryske, her childhood bedroom had been a sanctuary. After his resurrection, it was a base for them to make love.

As for her parents, they still didn’t know anything about her life in the city… or the money Rupert gave her either. They certainly didn’t know about her relationship with Ryske, or even that he was connected to her beyond their phony introduction at the Sweeting dinner table.

The Floyd’s crew and her parents never overlapped. Her bail hearing happened before her parents knew she’d been arrested. Only after bail was refused did Harlow decide to tell them where she was, and boy that had been a call.

On her instruction, Greta hadn’t notified anyone of hearing dates, neither her family nor her crew. Most were procedural, some she didn’t attend either. She hadn’t gotten as far as thinking about what she’d do when the trial rolled around.

Just being out of jail was strange. The sight of people going about their banal lives kept pulling her attention away from her concerns. For her transport between jails, she’d been in a van that provided no view of the outside world. This time, in a police car, she got a glimpse of the world again, and how oblivious people were to the dangers around them every minute.

Eventually, they pulled into her parents’ driveway. No one came out from inside while the officer took her from the car and escorted her into the building. Her mother and sister, Lena, were in the living room waiting. Both seemed nervous; Lena did a worse job of hiding it.

The officer was explaining the terms of her release to a rather blank-faced Jean Sweeting when Harlow’s father, Brysen, came in with Rupert. The men had gone to visit her in jail. With all the activity, it hadn’t occurred to her, or Greta, to call them. On their arrival at the jail, they’d been told that she’d already been released to house arrest.

Her father knew about the agreement; he’d had to approve it after Greta was in court. But he hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. From his tone, she couldn’t tell if he meant she wasn’t welcome, or just that no one was ready for her to be there.

Her ankle monitor was fitted and she was given care instructions. With it on, she could shower, but had to avoid submerging the device. She had to stay inside her parents’ property line, but could go into the yard or onto the driveway.

In contrast to the rules and procedures in jail, the new ones would be a breeze. The officers left in a flurry of activity, and then suddenly, they were alone in her parents’ front room.

“Well,” Rupert said, trying to break the tension of the awkward silence. “How does it feel to be free?”

“Surreal.” Harlow touched her hair. “I need to shower and change my clothes. Maybe after that I’ll feel normal again…” Though she doubted it. “This still feels like a dream I might wake up from.”

“That’s understandable,” Rupert said, moving aside when she stood up.

Everyone seemed to be giving her a wide berth. Especially her sister who darted away from the doorway when Harlow started toward it.

“Did you do it?” Lena called out, stopping her. “Did you really kill that guy?”

They had questions, everybody did. There was an irony in sweet, innocent Lena being the first to ask such an important one. Her little sister would be the last person she’d burden with details of the night Hagan lost his life.

“Lena,” their mother whispered.

“Uh,” Harlow said, forcing a smile as she faced the room. “I’m going to make a couple of quick calls first. Excuse me.”

Quick call was right. She ran up the stairs and grabbed the handset from her nightstand to dial as fast as possible. Ryske would’ve been expecting a call from her hours ago. She just hoped he hadn’t called the jail in a panic.

The number that flashed up on his cellphone would be unknown to him, which meant he might not answer. She was still worrying about being diverted when the ringing in her ear stopped.

“Who is this?” Ryske snapped down the line.

Relief, he’d answered. Though he wasn’t in a great mood. Either he was worried someone got the number from her under duress, or that telemarketers were angling to con him. Good luck to anyone who tried that.

Her mouth opened, but she didn’t know what to say.

After a few seconds of nothing, a sly smile curled her lips. “A very horny, very naughty girl.”

Silence came before he groaned. “You feeling frisky, baby? In a new pod?”

Kicking off her shoes, she pushed herself to the middle of her bed. “I’m sitting in the spot where we first made love.”

An exhale of disbelief and relief reverberated to her ear. “House arrest?”

“That’s right,” she said. Peculiar. How had he come to that conclusion so fast? “How did you—”

“I’m on my way, Trinket. Don’t go anywhere.”

She couldn’t go anywhere even if she wanted to. The line went dead before she could ask questions.

Shaking herself from her daze, she’d call Ryske on his quick thinking when he arrived, which shouldn’t take too long.

Clyde got a call next. Getting him off the phone was hard work. Her persistent friend wanted details on how she’d ended up at her parents’ home. More details than Ryske, who she’d expected would want to know everything. Except, he’d had no questions. It seemed like her love had expected it. Like he’d anticipated it.

How had he anticipated it?

3

HER SUSPICIONS ABOUT Ryske’s quick conclusion stuck with her in the shower. Having time, and privacy, under the jets of warm water was a welcome novelty. More than once, she reminded herself no one was looking over her shoulder.

Though there was no doubt she spent more time getting ready in the bathroom than she had on any one occasion during her stay in jail, she didn’t procrastinate too long. If Noon was driving, Ryske would already be in town. His appearance at the Sweeting house would be unexpected, as would that of his driver, if Ryske brought Noon inside. Leaving the pair alone to explain why they’d showed up wouldn’t be fair. So she sped through her old post-shower routine to ensure her presence when they arrived.

Doing her hair and putting on a dress felt odd. For the last three months, her wardrobe consisted of a jumpsuit and a cheap hair tie. Nothing more, nothing less. Being herself again was liberating. Just for kicks, she dug out her makeup and added a little eyeliner and gloss to her look. What a rebel.

For the first time in months, she recognized the woman looking back at her in the mirror. Not because of the hair and makeup, they were peripheral. Familiarity came in the color in her cheeks and the smile on her face. One that didn’t have to be followed by a frown.

Ryske was coming.

She’d be able to put her arms all the way around him and hold him close without a guard telling them to break it up. She’d be able to taste his tongue, to feel his hands… Her senses were free to be overloaded by whatever she chose to do with any part of his body. And her plan was to play with every single inch of it… several times.

The doorbell propelled her from the vanity stool. Oh, it was nuts to be as excited as a virgin on prom night. They’d seen each other three days ago and had enjoyed each other before. Maybe not as much as she’d have liked, but she only had herself to blame for that oversight.

Running from her bedroom, she swung herself around the mid-landing banister and hurried down the second flight just in time to see her mother and Rupert going toward the entryway.

A pang of disappointment struck. Stupid. Greeting Ryske herself would be dangerous given the high likelihood they’d mount each other right there on the front steps. What a show for the neighbors that would be.

Almost self-conscious, she ran a hand over her hair and down her dress, trying to sweep away the fizzing energy of anticipation.

Jean opened the Sweetings’ front door. Rupert stood just behind her, probably acting as security. They didn’t know who was on the other side and with a suspected murderess in the house, vigilance was appropriate.

Patient, just be patient.

Except, huh, if a visitor intended to start a fight, she’d be best equipped to handle it. Costello’s tricks had come in handy more than once in jail. Maybe she should be answering the door. In the ranks of fighters present in the house right then, she would be top of the list to combat anyone vicious.

Shame it didn’t take long to be reminded vicious came in many forms.

“Oh,” Jean said, her voice strained and surprised. “Oh, we didn’t expect…”

Surprise was to be expected. But why would her mom be so awkward about finding Ryske at the door?

The reason became all too clear when Rupert stepped aside to reveal Ryske wasn’t the one on the doorstep at all.

The unanticipated guest spotted her standing dumbfounded at the bottom of the stairs and extended her arms to rush in, squeezing between Jean and Rupert.

“Harlow!”

In shock, she didn’t have the wherewithal to object to the perfumed embrace. “O… Ophelia,” Harlow said, trying to relax enough to pat the woman on the back. “What…? What are you doing here?”

Clutching her upper arms, Ophelia put a little distance between them to look her in the eye. “Oh, I knew it was nonsense. Of course, it was nonsense.”

Turning to Jean and Rupert, still in the entryway, Ophelia put a tight arm around her.

“Miss Hagan,” Rupert said, looking at Jean and then at her. “We were very sorry to hear about your brother.”

Jean closed the front door, lingering there to gather herself. Despite a valiant effort, it failed. Still, her mother was good at faking it.

“Yes,” Ophelia said. “Yes, it was awful… I couldn’t believe it when I heard of Harlow’s arrest. I was appalled. There’s no way she could be responsible for this. I’d known for months that she and my brother were involved. They had real feelings for each other, you understand.”

Real feelings? What the hell was Ophelia doing? What in the…? Why would the woman appear here now after being nowhere for three months? And why in the hell was she insinuating a relationship where none existed?

“You were… involved with him?” her mother asked.

Rupert frowned too. He had more reason than most to be confused, even angry. Why? Because she’d implied they’d get back together, oh, and had flat denied being involved with Jarvis Hagan.

She hadn’t come up with anything close to an answer for her mother before their guest spoke again.

“As soon as they called to tell me about Harlow’s case, and this wonderful development…” Ophelia grinned. “I just had to come and show my support… You don’t mind if I spend some time with Harlow, do you?”

“Uh, no,” her mother said. “We were about to have dinner. We’d be thrilled if you would join us.”

“Perfect!” Ophelia said, keeping Harlow tight against her side. “Where’s the dining room?”

Her mother directed Ophelia to the opposite corner of the square foyer. Only then did Ophelia let her go to follow.

Rupert caught Harlow’s arm before she could go after them. “You were sleeping with him?” Rupert asked. “Is that why you killed him?”

Hmm, her former fiancé hadn’t picked the best moment to push her buttons. Harlow was already struggling to figure out what Ophelia was up to. She didn’t also need it sky-written that her whole family assumed she was guilty of homicide.

The front door opened, making her and Rupert turn. Ryske came striding in and stopped short when he found them in the foyer. For a second, the three of them examined each other.

“Mr. Ryske,” Rupert said. “What are you…?”

No prizes for guessing Rupert might struggle to figure out why this particular man appeared. Ryske didn’t seem to care; he zeroed in on her, smile emerging, yes, he was pleased to see her. Poor guy didn’t know what he’d walked into. Raising a finger, still trying to think of something neutral to say, the decision was made for her.

“Baby,” Ryske said.

He’d been talking to her, she knew that. Except she wasn’t the one to respond.

“Sweetheart!” Ophelia exclaimed, startling them all, though none more than Ryske.

Ophelia rushed across the foyer, breaking between her and Rupert, much as she’d burst into the house. This time, she captured Ryske’s face to pull him down for a kiss.

Rupert turned to the dining room, no doubt to give the couple privacy and to have some sort of silent conversation with whoever was loitering in the doorway behind her. Harlow, on the other hand, couldn’t take her attention away from the amorous couple.

Amorous was overstating it. Ophelia gave the kiss her all, really her all; Ryske didn’t even close his eyes. Her love sought her out, obviously expecting some kind of explanation. When he didn’t get one, he broke the kiss, pushing Ophelia away with more force than the woman would appreciate.

To her credit, Ophelia took it in stride. “My Ryske was so worried about my decision to come here,” Ophelia said, slipping an arm around his waist to tuck herself against him. “I can’t say I was surprised when Lena spotted him from the dining room. I thought he might be close by. My fiancé is very protective.”

“Your—”

“Makes sense,” Harlow said, cutting Ryske off. “Makes perfect sense.”

Her family discussed Ryske’s engagement to Ophelia during his last visit to the Sweeting house. Lena must have seen Ryske storming into the house and pointed out Ophelia’s “fiancé.”

“I assure you, Mr. Ryske, there will be no trouble for your fiancée here,” Rupert said, stepping in front of Harlow. “You are free to take her home, or both of you may stay for dinner, whichever you think is best.”