“Boss, I’m going to check out that club.” Nolan hated the thought of returning empty handed, seeing James—who’d come to be a friend in addition to a co-worker over the past few months—heartbroken, even if he had a sexy husband and wife to console him properly.
“Now? On your own?” Sola raised a brow at him.
“These women will trust you a hell of a lot more than me. And a single guy will draw less attention at Heels.” Nolan shrugged. “Kennedy is going to have the bulk of the work now. Help her convince these people to go to the safe house James arranged until Tom’s organization can bridge the gap. Aarav will be happy to fill in as your partner in case you need someone to step and fetch. Won’t you, buddy?”
“I’ll be down in two minutes.” Aarav had probably already meticulously cleaned and packed his weapon, which he babied.
“See?” Nolan grinned. “I’ll catch up.”
“You always get the fun jobs,” Sola mock-bitched, but didn’t try to stop him. Around Shields, everyone could hold their own, even in sticky situations.
“Going to a strip club is your idea of a good time?” Nolan couldn’t help a little teasing of his own. “Maybe you should take Aarav out for a lap dance later to loosen him up.”
“Don’t involve me,” the sniper deadpanned. “I could shoot you a new asshole from here.”
Wow, something other than strictly business from Aarav. That’s how Nolan knew that despite his feigned indifference, Aarav wasn’t exactly impartial when it came to Sola.
She rolled her eyes, then refocused on the job at hand—ushering the victims of the shit-sacs they’d just ended to a sanctuary where they could recover then, once they were ready, move on with the rest of their lives. One of Jordan’s mega-rich benefactors, Archer something or other, had bankrolled Tom’s shelter, ensuring they had the resources they needed to help these people start fresh and hopefully, someday, be happy.
Like James, Nolan and the rest of the Shields wanted so badly for Laurel to have the same opportunity, even if she had no idea they existed. He hoped they weren’t years too late.
2
Laurel stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. It wasn’t plush by any standard, but it was spotlessly clean. She breathed deep of the steam scented with whatever grocery store shampoo had been on sale last, happy to have scrubbed away the stench of grease and another too-long shift at the restaurant. She was getting too damn old for these marathon nights at work, but when Jace had a chance to stay longer and play another set for the decent crowd that had gathered to listen to his music, she hadn’t been about to deny him his moments of glory.
Certainly not after all he did for her. He was her rock. The only thing she had in life she could count on, besides bills.
Laurel peeked into their adjoining bedroom. Her roommate was stretched out on the only bed in their tiny apartment. His tattooed shoulders rested on the wall as he reclined with one arm flung over and behind his head. The pose left his ripped abs on prominent display while he watched the news on TV. She licked her lips, though she knew tonight, like every other night they’d shared a bed throughout the years, he wouldn’t dare touch her. Because neither of them were sure that she wouldn’t freak out if he did.
Even that small mental reminder of what they’d lived through riled the ghosts from the deep, dark places they resided in her mind.
She braced her hands on the lip of the sink and hung her head for a few moments until the flashbacks passed, then looked up into the cracked mirror above it. Dark circles ringed her eyes and pissed her off. Laurel glared at herself. She’d never been one to wallow and wasn’t about to let negativity bring her down now. Not when she had a pretty normal life, one she controlled, and enjoyed, when she wasn’t so damn tired.
Laurel finished drying off, then brushed her hair and teeth before striding into the other room naked. She could feel Jace’s stare on her ass and the curve of her back as she took her neatly folded pajamas from the dresser they’d scored off the curb one lucky garbage day. It was cute now that they’d given it a makeover, painting it and scuffing it strategically so it looked fashionably distressed instead of merely shabby.
Sort of like them.
She glanced over her shoulder and busted Jace. Not because she minded, but because she thought, maybe one of these days, he might admit that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
Hey, less likely things had happened in her life. Like escaping the evil bastards who’d stolen her from her family and abused both her and Jace for years until they’d managed to work their way free. They’d been told by Draven they could leave if they earned enough to pay off what he’d “so generously spent on their shelter and food” throughout the years. It had been total bullshit. They’d already made him a truckload of money when they were young enough to appeal to his sick clientele, but Laurel and Jace had stuck together, stripping and bouncing for the ring’s club front, Heels, until they’d more than met Draven’s requirements.
Of course that’s when he’d tried to renege on their agreement. Somehow, mostly with the giant chef’s knife stolen from the club’s kitchen, Jace had convinced the man to let them go once and for all. It had been damn near ten years and thinking about it still gave her goose bumps.
To distract herself from bad memories, Laurel finished tugging on her pajamas, then wiggled her finger in front of the terrarium Jace had cobbled together out of salvaged window panes and screens. It had been her birthday gift two years ago, and sat in a place of honor on top of the dresser. Their lizard, Dottie Long-Tongue, trotted right over and greeted Laurel with a wag of her pretty yellow tail.
“Oh yeah, you need a bedtime snack, huh?” Laurel dropped in a few peas she’d snagged from the scrap pile at work. She chuckled as Dottie gobbled them up before scampering away into her favorite corner beneath a gnarled piece of wood to rest.
“I feel you, girl.” Laurel sighed and sank into bed, leaving a narrow strip of mattress between her and Jace. Exhausted and on edge, she had trouble settling in.
“Cold?” Jace asked, frowning, as he noticed the tiny bumps lingering on her arms.
It was easier to say yes than to admit where her thoughts had gone—even for a moment—and have to reassure him that she was holding it together, so she nodded. Jace took the arm he’d been pillowing his head on and wrapped it around her instead, drawing her to his side.
Laurel snuggled up to him, resting her face on his chest. He stroked her hair as he stared straight ahead at the news. Neither of them commented when he drew the covers up to their waists, which she was sure had more to do with the bulge in his shorts than a non-existent chill. Not that it would have stood a chance against the furnace of his ripped body anyway.
It was torture to be so close to him and yet to be so screwed up, both of them, that they couldn’t take what they truly needed from each other. It stung that he didn’t think she was strong enough for him, or maybe that he didn’t like the idea of having someone so many others had taken first.
Then again, Jace was no saint.
She didn’t know the gory details, didn’t want to, but there was no way to hide that he was a hookup pro or that he prowled club alleyways when he didn’t think she’d notice him gone for a few hours. How could she not when they were so close, and when he acted so damn guilty every time he caved in and satisfied his needs?