Hard as You Can (18 page)

Knock, knock.
“Jenna? Can I come in?” Crystal. Bingo. Silence stretched out before another round of knocking. “Jenna? Please?”

Shane frowned. Crystal sounded almost upset. He imagined the expression she’d worn right before she’d bolted from the woods, and his chest squeezed.

“Jen, this apartment is seven hundred square feet. You can’t avoid me forever.”

Marz arched a brow and held out his hands like he was asking what was going on. Shane shook his head.

Something rattled and squeaked. “Actually, I
could
avoid you if I wanted. So don’t tempt me. What do you want?” Jenna, presumably.

“I just wanted to see how you were feeling,” Crystal said, her tone conciliatory.

“I’m fine,” Jenna said in that tone women used that meant they were the exact opposite of fine.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

The regret in Crystal’s voice reached right into Shane’s chest and grabbed hold. He’d seen how much her sister meant to her. He could hear it in her voice, even as Jenna came at her with anger. There was a long pause, and Shane leaned closer.

“Is
he
going to be at your work tonight?” Jenna finally said.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s a yes. I have half a mind to march into Confessions tonight and tell him if he lays another hand on you, I’ll call the police myself.”

Oh, shit,
Shane thought. What a fucking disaster that would be. “You will
not,
” Crystal barked, apparently agreeing. “Do you hear me? You are
never
to step foot in there for any reason. You know how I feel about that. It’s not safe.”

“Oh, but it’s safe for you?”

“God, Jenna. Grow up. I don’t have a freaking choice.” The words overflowed with a desperation that sucker punched Shane and made it hard to breathe.
She doesn’t have a choice? What the hell does that mean?

A gasp, then a sniffle.

“Aw, sweetie, come here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Someone was crying. “No. Gotta get used to taking care of myself sometime. Might as well be now,” Jenna said in a strained voice.

“Jen—”

“I’m gonna lose you. Don’t you understand?”

“No, you’re not. I promise.” Sharp knots formed in Shane’s gut as the women fought. He identified wholeheartedly with Jenna’s concerns, but he hated the guilt and pain he heard in Crystal’s voice.

“You can’t make that promise. Not with where you work and who you date. God, I hate Dad. I
hate
him. This is
his
fault.”
Their father? What did he have to do with this?

“Sshh, it’s okay.”

“No. None of this is okay. If he hadn’t gotten himself killed, you wouldn’t have gotten sucked into that world. But it’s your fault, too. Because you
could
get out, but you don’t. You just stay there and take it. You’re just like him!” The longer Jenna spoke, the more heated her words became. She had some of the same fighter qualities as Crystal, it appeared, though Shane wasn’t a fan of where that fight was being directed right now. Those words had heart-shredder written all over them.

Crystal’s gasp told him he’d been right. Jenna’s rant had hit its target.

A few long moments passed, with Crystal attempting unsuccessfully to talk Jenna down. And as much as Shane regretted the younger woman’s behavior for Crystal’s sake, her motivation came through loud and clear. Shane wasn’t the only one who knew Crystal was in trouble. Nor was he the only one worrying. Jenna’s fear was at least partially behind why she was lashing out. He would’ve put money on it.

A slammed door brought an abrupt end to the conversation.

“Shit,” Crystal whispered. “That went great.” The sarcasm did nothing to hide the sadness in her voice. “I’ll be home after two, Jenna. Don’t wait up. Please try to get some sleep tonight. Okay?”

Silence.

A series of muffled noises followed until another door closed. Crystal leaving, presumably.

Which meant they would run into one another at Confessions.

Fanfuckingtastic.

Feeling like the ground was moving beneath his feet, Shane nodded to Marz, who turned down the feed. How could Crystal be
forced
to work at Confessions? And by whom? By this Bruno asshole? By Church himself? Jesus. Shane thought he’d been worried about her before. With five little words, Crystal had just confirmed that her situation was even worse than Shane had feared.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Marz asked.

Still reeling, Shane met the man’s concerned gaze. “Dude, I don’t even know.”

Marz pressed his lips into a tight line and shook his head. “Put the context of a strip club we know engages in human trafficking together with the comment Crystal just made, and it’s pretty damn clear she’s not fully free.”

“Debt servitude, maybe?” Beckett said in a tone full of ice.

The more his friends speculated, the more he knew they were right. Sonofabitch. The realization of just how seriously in trouble Crystal was made him feel like he was breathing crushed glass. And
there
went the thought he could remain detached.

Forcing himself from the downward spiral of his thoughts, Shane focused on another part of what they’d learned—their father. “Marz, can you go through the phone records? See if you can find Crystal’s real name. Then see if you can dig up who their father was and how he might be involved in all this?”

“Can do,” Marz said.

“So, it sounds like Crystal’s on her way to the club now,” Beckett said, rubbing at his scarred temple.

“Yeah.” Shane thought about how smoothly she’d handled his appearance in the club the night after they’d rescued Charlie. She could’ve freaked out or screamed or pointed or run away. A million things. But she’d masked her surprise, ordered him out without making a scene, and put on a good show to which no one gave a second thought. No reason to think she wouldn’t handle herself the same way again.

Except, now, Shane knew her, cared about her. The worry he felt was probably more about him than her. And wasn’t that a peachy revelation.

Easy cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his bald head. When he wanted it to happen, the guy had a knack for fading into the background of a conversation to the point you almost forgot he was there. Seemed like he’d been doing it a lot since they’d reunited. “This sister could become a problem for your waitress friend,” he said. “She’s got a bit of a temper on her. If Crystal’s handsy boyfriend comes over, and Jenna loses it at the wrong time . . .” Easy let them finish the sentence for themselves. No matter how they filled in the blanks, though, the end results weren’t good.

“Sounds like she was just blowing off steam,” Shane said. “But point taken.”

Nodding, Easy said, “I’m not saying we do anything, but it bears watching.”

Murmurs of agreement sounded from all three of them, and Shane found himself glad to have their support where Crystal and her sister were concerned.

“All right. I need to shower and change if we’re going back out. These jeans are starting to chafe,” Shane said, to the guys’ amusement. He was halfway to the door when something occurred to him, and Shane turned back. “Hey, Marz?”

“Yo.”

“If you find out Crystal’s name, don’t tell me.”

“Come again?” Marz said, as Easy’s and Beckett’s gazes swung toward Shane.

He made sure his tone was casual, unaffected. “I just want to hear it from her first.”

Marz cocked his head and stared at him. Sure enough, a flash of recognition passed through the man’s eyes. Shane’s emotions had gotten involved, and now Marz knew it. “Whatever you say, hoss,” he said. “I live to serve.”

Shane nodded and beat feet for the door, silently thanking the man for holding back whatever commentary might’ve gone through his head a few seconds before. Last thing he wanted was for the team to worry he’d lost his objectivity because he’d gotten attached to the girl.

Even though,
damn,
he was kinda getting attached to the girl.

And wasn’t that a red-handed smack in the ass.

C
RYSTAL WASN
’
T SURE
how the sensation of emptiness could be so painful. But her chest absolutely throbbed with it.

Had she ever seen Jenna so angry before?

No. Not even the day her sister had seen those first bruises on Crystal’s arm though that day had been pretty bad, too. In her heart of hearts, Crystal knew Jenna was just worried. The girl had their father’s temper but, unlike him, was usually quick to forgive. Not this time. God, Crystal wasn’t sure how to make this right.

Not without dumping an anvil of worry and guilt on her sister’s shoulders. And no way that kinda stress would be good for Jenna’s epilepsy.

Because spilling to Jenna didn’t just put her sister in the position of having to keep her mouth shut and play her part convincingly, it also meant revealing that Bruno paid for Jenna’s medical expenses and explaining why their departure had to be secret. Which meant explaining how Crystal had been forced to work off their father’s debts. And
that
meant revealing the scars on her back that Crystal had gone out of her way to hide the past four years.

For a moment, memories sucked Crystal back to the night it had all started. Some of Church’s men had come to the house, nearly cleaned out from the previous day’s auction of their home and its contents, to inform her that the sale hadn’t raised enough to cancel out her dead father’s debts. Apparently, they hadn’t thought her cooperative or concerned enough—after all, the debts weren’t
her
fault—so they’d grabbed her and forced her into their van. Next thing she knew, she was locked in one of the basement rooms of Confessions. Tools of various sorts hung on one of the pitch-black walls—some she could identify and some she couldn’t.

And then the men had started coming.

The only saving grace in the whole thing was that Jenna had been away on the tenth grade’s spring break field trip to Philadelphia. Over Jenna’s protests, Crystal had insisted she go so she wouldn’t have to witness all their belongings being sold off. And thank God she had. Because if Jenna had been home that night, there’s every chance the Churchmen would’ve taken her, too. Somehow, Crystal didn’t think that Jenna’s being only fifteen and sickly would’ve stopped them.

Cold crept over Crystal’s skin, and she shuddered. It had been Bruno who rescued her from the basement and kept Jenna from landing there herself. Thank God their father, before he went to prison, had called in a favor for having saved Bruno’s life and gotten the man to promise to watch out for them. So Bruno had rescued Crystal and shielded Jenna to even the score and keep his word. But because he couldn’t let them out of the debt repayment, he’d arranged for Crystal to get
other
work at Confessions. That was when she started waitressing. And, after a while, dating Bruno.

God, she could still remember her relief and gratitude toward Bruno. He hadn’t just
seemed
like the answer to all her problems, he’d literally saved Crystal and protected Jenna from a situation that might’ve killed them or seen them sold off somewhere far, far away. Just like the other girls who’d disappeared into the club’s bowels, never to be heard of again.

So, Crystal knew firsthand exactly what kind of danger lurked behind the scenes at Confessions. The threat of that fate wasn’t idle. Which was why she absolutely refused to tolerate even the thought of Jenna’s stepping into the club. God, when the girl had threatened to come to Crystal’s work
and
confront Bruno, Crystal had almost tipped right over the edge into a full-blown panic attack. Because back when Bruno first got violent with her, he wasn’t above reminding her how easily he could change Jenna’s fate. Just one call from Bruno, and Church would have her hauled in.

And that’s also why you helped Shane
. Right. She just hoped that didn’t come back to haunt her.

Crystal couldn’t imagine how she’d
ever
find the words to tell her little sister
any
of that, though. Jenna would never look at her the same way again.

No. It was far better for Jenna never to know exactly what’d happened—what was
still
happening. For years, Crystal had gone out of her way to hide her true reality. She never changed in front of Jenna. Always locked the bathroom door when she showered—a source of constant complaint from Jenna given their one-bathroom setup. And she’d gotten Bruno’s permission to sew herself uniform tops similar to the standard Confessions uniforms but that covered up her defects.

Since, you know, men were paying for the fantasy of perfection at the club. And while the whip marks she bore probably
were
a fantasy for some of the sickos that sat around ogling the girls night after night, Confessions didn’t exactly advertise their support for that kinda thing right out there in the open. No, those dark proclivities could only be provided for in the shadows.

Say, in the club’s basement . . .

Forcing her attention back to her reflection in the dressing-room mirror, Crystal blew out a shaky breath. Wallowing in those memories did absolutely no good. Except maybe as a cautionary tale to help guide her through her screwed-up life. As she stared at herself, Crystal had the fleeting thought that her life was a house of cards, one light blow away from falling to pieces and disintegrating to nothing.

“Enough,” she whispered under her breath. If she didn’t get her head together, she was going to mess something up and get herself in trouble around here tonight. But between the head-spinning deliciousness of kissing Shane and the fight with Jenna—not to mention being compared to their father . . . Crystal felt as fragile as cracked glass.

She gave herself one last look. Hair—curled and sprayed. Makeup—dramatic. Jewelry—costume crap she didn’t care about losing. Uniform—skanky and scanty as always. Slipping her feet into the killer heels, she bent over and assembled the little silver buckles. Back in character for yet another shift.

The club had been open since noon, but it was still quiet when Crystal took the floor at seven. Which just figured. On nights when she might’ve considered giving all her tips to another waitress for ten minutes off her feet, business never let up. On nights when all Crystal wanted was to be so busy she wouldn’t have five minutes to think, time crawled by.