Go All Out

3

3

Her suspicions about Ryske’s quick conclusion stuck with her in the shower. Having time, and privacy, under the jets of warm water took some getting used to. More than once, she reminded herself that no one was looking over her shoulder.

Though there was no doubt that 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 she was present for their arrival.

Doing her hair and putting on a dress felt odd. For the last three months, all she’d had was a jumpsuit and a cheap hair tie. Being herself again was liberating. Just for kicks, she dug out her makeup and added a little eyeliner and gloss to her look.

For the first time in months, she recognized the woman looking back at her from the mirror. Not because of the hair and makeup, they were peripheral. Familiarity came in the form of 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… All of her senses were free to be overloaded by whatever she chose to do with any part of his body. And Harlow had plans to play with every single inch of him… more than once.

The doorbell made her pounce from the vanity stool. It was nuts that she was 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 Harlow only had herself to blame for that oversight.

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

Though she was struck by a pang of disappointment, it made sense that she shouldn’t be the one to greet Ryske. Not when there was a high chance they’d mount each other right there on the front steps.

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 Sweeting’s front door. Rupert stood just behind her, probably as a show of protection because they wouldn’t know who was on the other side. Given that they had a suspected murderess in the house, they’d want to be vigilant.

If there was someone on the threshold who wanted to start a fight, Harlow wouldn’t hesitate to step in. Reconsidering her previous position, she wondered if answering the door should be her duty after all.

Looking out for herself in jail had taught her a lot. Costello’s tricks had come in handy more than once. In the ranks of fighters present, she would be top of the list and best equipped to take down anyone who wanted to be vicious.

It didn’t take long for Harlow to be reminded that vicious came in many forms.

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

Surprise was to be expected. But Harlow couldn’t work out why her mom would be so awkward about finding Ryske at the door.

The reason became all too clear when Rupert stepped aside to reveal that 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 forward, squeezing between Jean and Rupert.

“Harlow!”

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

Taking 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 toward Jean and Rupert, who were 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 try gathering herself. It was a valiant effort, but a failed one. Still, her mother was doing better at faking it than Harlow.

“Yes,” Ophelia said. “Yes, it was awful… I couldn’t believe it when I heard Harlow had been arrested. 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? Harlow couldn’t fathom why the woman had appeared after being nowhere for the last three months or why she was insinuating a relationship.

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

Rupert was frowning too. He had more reason than most to be confused, and even angry. Harlow had implied they could get back together, and she’d 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?”

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 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…”

Rupert was trying to figure out why this man had appeared. Ryske didn’t seem to care; he was busy zoning in on her. Harlow could almost see his smile begin to emerge. He was pleased to see her, made sense, but he didn’t know what he’d walked into. Raising a finger, she was still trying to think of something neutral to say when the decision was made for her.

“Baby,” Ryske said.

While she knew he was talking to her, Harlow wasn’t the one to respond.

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

Ophelia rushed across the foyer, breaking through 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 face 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. Harlow, on the other hand, couldn’t take her attention away from the amorous couple.

Amorous was overstating it. Ophelia was giving the kiss her all, but Ryske didn’t even have his eyes closed. Her love was seeking her out, obviously looking for some kind of explanation. Breaking the kiss, he pushed Ophelia away with more force than the woman would appreciate.

To her credit, Ophelia took it in her 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 had discussed Ryske’s engagement to Ophelia the last time he’d visited. Lena must have seen Ryske come storming into the house and pointed out Ophelia’s “fiancé” to her.

“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.”

This wasn’t Rupert’s house, but he’d been a part of the Sweeting family for a long time. It wasn’t unusual for him to extend a dinner invitation to someone if the moment called for it. In many ways, he was the son of the family. Brysen’s heir.

Given her own experience of being with Rupert, it didn’t surprise her that he assumed Ryske would make the decisions for both him and Ophelia. That was how Rupert thought a relationship should be.

Her gaze fell to Ophelia’s hand. The woman was wearing the engagement ring… The one Rupert had given to her. Harlow had re-gifted it to her crew. The design wasn’t unusual; she doubted it was custom. It should be possible for Rupert to glance at it and just assume the women had similar tastes without concluding it was the same ring he’d purchased.

Closing her eyes, Harlow cursed the gods that had blessed her with freedom. She hadn’t been home for two whole hours and already she was embroiled in another con.

“Oh no, we want to stay,” Ophelia said. “Don’t we, sweetheart? We want the Sweetings to know that we bear Harlow no ill will.”

And that was the kicker. Ryske now couldn’t usher Ophelia out of the Sweeting house without making it seem that he did bear her ill will.

“Yes,” Ryske said, his voice low in his throat. “We’ll stay.”

“Good,” Rupert said. “You know where the dining room is.”

Stepping backwards, Rupert almost crashed into her, so she put her hands up to remind him that she was at his back. Ryske managed to sneak a quick glare her way before he moved past Rupert, though she didn’t know what he was mad about. She was the one who’d just had to watch him kissing another woman.