Hard As You Can

Chapter 14

Crystal was so strung out with worry over Jenna that she hadn’t even bothered to change out of her skanky uniform. Instead, she’d traded her heels for flip-flops and thrown on an old hoodie she’d left in her locker. It was after two in the morning, after all, so it wasn’t like she was trying to win any fashion awards.

Nervous energy had her tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she turned into her neighborhood. There’d been almost no traffic, and she’d lucked out on a whole string of green lights, but it still seemed like the longest. Trip. Home. Ever.

Why the hell had Jenna come to Confessions?

How many times had Crystal told her to never go there, whether Crystal was working or not? Bruno had protected Jenna from getting sucked into Confessions, and the best way to ensure Jenna stayed out, stayed safe, and stayed off the gang’s radar was for her to stay away from the club. No exceptions.

God forbid anyone in the organization developed an interest of any sort in Jenna. The very thought sent a cold chill right through Crystal’s bones.

And who was this Edward guy Shane had left with Jenna? A small part of Crystal was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but most of her said they could trust Shane—a kinda amazing conclusion given how suspicious she tended to be of pretty much everyone and everything. And since Shane had vouched for the man, it was probably fine.

If only her racing heart and flip-flopping belly would believe that.

The entrance to her apartment complex came into view, and Crystal released a deep breath. She was going to feel ridiculous when she got home, saw everything was just as it should be, and found Jenna long asleep.

A light flashed. Once. Twice. Three times.

Crystal squinted through the glare of the passing streetlamps.

And there, on the corner just past the apartment complex’s driveway, stood Shane McCallan. He lowered his cell phone, the light swinging away, and waved.

Twin reactions coursed through Crystal. Excitement at seeing him again, at the fact that he’d apparently been waiting here for her. And a little suspicion, too, because why was he waiting here for her?

Oh, God, had something happened?

Both reactions sent Crystal’s heart racing. She pulled up alongside him and rolled down the window. “What’s wrong?”

Wearing a heather gray shirt stretched taut across his chest and shoulders, Shane gave her that sexy, charming smile. “Nothing, darlin’. Everything’s fine. I checked in with Easy, I mean, Edward, about fifteen minutes ago, and he reported everything’s quiet at your place.”

“Oh.” The truck’s engine idled loudly. “Well, then, what are you doing here?”

He tilted his head and nailed her with a hot, intense stare. “You said we could talk.”

Her stomach flipped. What did he want to talk about? His words from the dressing room came to mind. I want you so bad I can hardly breathe. Her heart beat a little harder still. “But, Jenna—”

“Is fine.” He arched a brow. “You’re not going back on your promise, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. But, um, where . . .”

“Why don’t you park over there,” he said, pointing at an open street space in front of a string of row houses. “We can just talk in your truck, if that’s okay.”

“Uh.” Crystal looked at the door to the glove box, hanging open because it wouldn’t stay closed anymore, and at the cracks in the vinyl bench seat beside her. Like her apartment, she’d never really given much thought to the truck’s appearance until now . . .

“Or we can sit in mine,” Shane said. “It’s just down the way.”

Crystal nodded. “Yeah. Um, let’s do that.” As she pulled into the spot, she shivered, excitement rushing through her at the chance to be with him again. This time, somewhere quiet, private, alone. Well, sorta, anyway. She turned the engine off and removed the key, and in the quiet of the cab, she forced herself to take a deep breath. It’s just a talk, for God’s sake. Then why did it feel more significant?

She cracked open the door . . . and remembered what she was wearing. The one night she didn’t change into normal person clothes, she got the opportunity to hang out with a nice guy. A hot guy. And here she was dressed like a freaking tramp.

Knock, knock.

Crystal’s gaze flew to the window beside her, and Shane was there, smiling at her with a questioning gaze. Well, wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her in this before.

She nodded, and he opened the door the rest of the way. Swallowing her embarrassment, she swung her almost entirely bare legs out and hopped down. “I, uh, didn’t take the time to change,” she said.

He took her hand. “I don’t care about that, sweetness. Come on.”

There was that nickname again. And the acceptance, too. And, oh, man, his hand was big and warm and reassuring around hers, his thumb rubbing over her knuckle again and again. She never wanted him to let her go.

Don’t get attached. You know there’s no way this works out.

Maybe. Probably. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy him while he was here, did it? She shivered despite the fact that she was playing with fire.

“Are you cold?” Shane asked, pulling her body closer to his as they walked down the quiet street, lined on one side by mostly dark row houses, and on the other by the fence and hedges that separated her apartment complex from the road.

“No, I’m okay,” she said, giving him a small smile. He was always so tuned in to her. Just like he’d noticed how much she hadn’t wanted Bruno’s kiss. Hell, Bruno was kissing her and hadn’t noticed her hesitation. Or hadn’t cared.

“I’m right here,” he said, pointing a key fob at a big black truck. The lights flashed twice in response. “M’lady,” he said, opening the door for the second row of seats with a playful smile. “There’s a blanket on the floor there.”

She climbed in, his hand warm on her lower back, the leather soft against the backs of her thighs. He closed the door and came around to the other side, then joined her at the opposite end of the big bench seat. And just then she figured out why he’d had them sit in the back instead of the front—because a console separated the two halves of the front seat. Which meant he didn’t want anything separating them . . .

She shivered again, nerves and excitement making it hard to sit still.

“Here,” he said, shaking the soft fleece blanket out and draping it across her lap.

“You’re so . . . different,” she said, not really intending to voice the thought. She peered at him sideways while she fiddled with the blanket.

Shane smiled. “Different good, I hope.”

Heat flooded into her cheeks, so she turned her gaze out the window. A streetlamp stood two cars lengths ahead of them, but Shane’s truck sat shrouded mostly in darkness along a row of hedges. It was so . . . peaceful sitting here with him, even as her nerves jangled and her heart raced.

“How was your night?” Shane said, pulling her gaze back to him.

She shrugged with one shoulder. Hours and hours of serving men food and drinks while she pretended not to notice the hard-ons tenting their pants or feel their fingers stealing touches of her skin. “Same old, same old. Yours? Everything go okay with that thing you had to do?”

He gave a nod, a small, tired smile on his face. “Yeah. Thankfully, it did.”

Part of her wanted to ask what it was he’d had to do, but it wasn’t any of her business. “Good,” she said. A long moment of silence passed with Shane’s gaze roaming over her. It took everything Crystal had not to fidget. “So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

Despite his almost relaxed posture, Shane didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t pull any punches. “Why do you tolerate Bruno?”

Damn if tolerate wasn’t the exact right word choice. If the question hadn’t been so fraught with land mines, Crystal almost might’ve smiled. “You’re just going for it, huh?”

He nodded and arched a brow. “Damn straight. You said we could talk, so I’m talking. Now it’s your turn.”

For a long moment, Crystal debated whether to answer. Why bother? Part of her knew it was an exercise in futility because it wouldn’t change a damn thing. But another part of her, the part that really hadn’t had anyone to share this incredible load with, just . . . wanted . . . one person to hear her. One person to empathize with her. One person to actually know her. She cleared her throat. “He helped me when it counted,” she said, hoping she could leave it at that.

Shane frowned, and his gaze cut from her cheek to her arm, or, rather, to the spot where the bruises were covered by the sleeve of the hoodie. He chuffed out half a laugh. “I spent a lot of years in the Army doing intelligence work. You’re as skilled at answering questions as any of the operatives I ever worked with.”

That’s because it’s a survival skill. One perfected after years of tiptoeing around Confessions, the Church Gang, and Bruno. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not,” she said. “And I thought you were a medic.”

“I trained in both.” He shifted his back against the door to face her and tilted his head. “Why do you work at Confessions? And give me something more than ‘it pays the bills,’ please.”

It pays the bills, all right. The ones racked up by her father. Which didn’t leave much left over for her own. “Nope. Can’t do it. Because that is the reason.” When he pursed his lips, she lifted her hands as if in surrender. “Honest.”

He heaved a long breath and nailed her with a thoughtful stare. “How old are you?”

The unexpected question pulled a bit of a smile out of her. Crystal shook her head. “A hundred and four.” Shane’s brow arched over an amused expression, and she shrugged. “That’s how it feels sometimes. I’m twenty-three.”

His eyes went wide. Apparently, she’d surprised him in return. “You seem older than that.”

A niggle of discomfort slinked into her belly. “Disappointed?”

“You could never disappoint me, Crystal. Let’s get that straight right now. You just have a seriousness about you that reads older. I like it. A lot.” He nailed her with a gaze full of heat and promise.

Crystal hugged herself. “Like I said, a hundred and four. Why? How old are you?” Late twenties she’d guessed when she’d thought about it at all. Bruno was in his thirties, so she was used to hanging around older men.

He smiled. “I’ll be shaking hands with the big three-oh in a few months.”

“Wow. You’re old,” she said.

Shane threw his head back and laughed. “Touché, darlin’. Touché.” His playful, appreciative smile tempted hers. She never teased Bruno because he took almost any attempt at humor as a personal slight. She’d learned that lesson long ago.

After a few moments, Shane’s smile faded away. “Why did it worry you so much that Jenna came to Confessions?”

The age question had been such a softball, she’d nearly forgotten how good he was at asking ones that left her feeling cornered. “Wait. I want to ask another question,” she rushed out, twisting the edge of the blanket in a knot between her fingers.

Shane lifted his hands from his lap, indicating he was open to it. “Ask away.”

Looking him over, she debated for a moment. God, he was really freaking gorgeous sitting there in the near dark. With those big, broad shoulders, the contours of his biceps visible beneath the sleeves of his shirt, and the strong thighs filling out his jeans. “Okay. Here’s what I want to know. Why do you care about any of this? You don’t even know me and Jenna.”

Shane shook his head, and the smug smile he wore was as sexy as it was irksome. “You wasted that one, because I already told you. I care because I like you. And I’m getting to know you better and better.”

The words lifted her up and crashed her back down again. Because she adored his interest in her, but it could never come to anything. And, anyway, he didn’t know everything there was to know about her. If he did, all that growing care of his might disappear. “Okay, then why were you planning a bachelor party at my club?”

He laced his fingers across his flat belly, still the picture of ease. Really sexy, really attractive ease. The kind that made a woman want to see if she could rile a man up. One way or another.

Her gaze raked over him, from powerful thighs to flat, hard torso, to broad shoulders. When she got to his face, she found an amused smile and an arched brow. Busted.

“Truth,” she said in warning because he’d caught her ogling. No way was she letting him think he could distract her so easily. Even though, Shane was six-plus-feet of crazy sexy distraction.

“Okay. We were there because we needed more information about tomorrow night’s delivery,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And we took some steps to try to get it.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she closed it just as quick. Crystal couldn’t believe he’d been so forthright. “Oh.” But what the heck might those steps have been? She hadn’t seen them do anything unusual or suspicious.

“My turn again?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Uh, sure.”

“Why were you so worried about Jenna’s coming to Confessions? Truth.”

She guessed she couldn’t dish out that demand if she wasn’t willing to pony up in return. “Because it’s not safe for her. I don’t want her getting tied up with the people there at all.”

“It’s not safe for her, but it’s safe for you?” he asked in a steady voice, but the bulge of his crossed arms belied the tension the topic wrought in him.

A sense of déjà vu washed over Crystal. Jenna had asked her something very similar earlier in the day. Or yesterday, at this point. “The truth is, no, it’s not particularly safe for me, either.” Shane’s brow raised, like maybe she’d surprised him with her candor, too. “But I’m already caught up in it, and Jenna’s not. She’s going to graduate from college, pursue a career, and have a life free of strippers and . . .” All the bad things from which Crystal wanted to protect Jenna jumbled together in her mind and stole her voice. It was just . . . so much.

Shane sat forward, his expression intense, his eyes hot, liquid silver in the light of the streetlamp. “And what? Come on, Crystal. Talk to me.” His hand landed on her knee, warm and heavy and grounding. And for just a moment, she had the strongest urge to ask him to call her by her real name. Sara, call me Sara. Just once, she’d love to hear it from his mouth.

God, not even my name is mine to do with what I please. Because she couldn’t let herself be that person while she lived this life.

It was a choice, a struggle, a reality Crystal never wanted Jenna to face. Frustration and desire and fear and anger built up in her chest and squeezed her throat. “Damnit,” she finally bit out, dropping her gaze into her lap. “I—I—” In that moment, she realized there was literally no one else in the world to whom she could voice her fears and dreams. She swallowed hard and blurted it out. “I want her to have a life free of strippers and drug dealers and gangbangers and killers and hit men and . . . and . . . girls getting taken and used and sold.” The words spilled out faster and faster as she spoke, like the unusual expression of honesty knew it had to hurry before Crystal shut it down again. She shuddered, her scalp prickling with a nascent panic she’d induced all on her own.

“Crystal—”

She gave a fast shake of her head. “No more,” she said in a strained voice.

Sighing, Shane scrubbed his hands over his face.

Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, Crystal eyed Shane for a long moment. “What?” she finally asked in a voice just greater than a whisper.

He dropped his hands into his lap. “Would it freak you out if I told you I really wanted to hold you right now? I know you’re in trouble, Crystal. I don’t know how to help, and it’s killing me—”

“Okay,” she said, because she yearned to feel his arms around her again. And because she knew she couldn’t handle any more conversation. Unlike the typical twenty-three-year-old, Crystal couldn’t talk about movies or TV shows or what she’d done with her friends last weekend. She never went to the movies, rarely watched TV, and had no friends. Her conversational reach extended to superficialities on the one hand or life-and-death topics on the other.

“Okay?” His expression looked so happy, like she’d done something special for him when it was clearly the other way around.

Crystal nodded, but then wasn’t sure exactly what to do. No man had ever cuddled her before. Not ever.

Shane reached for her. “Come here, darlin’,” he said, nearly hauling her across the seat until her back came up against his front, her body situated between his legs, her legs drawn up in front of her. And, good God, he was hard and warm everywhere she was soft and cold. Crystal couldn’t help but burrow against him.

He released a satisfied sigh as his arms wrapped around her stomach. After a minute, she let herself relax and rested her head against his shoulder, one of her arms lying atop one of his. And then he laced their fingers together.

A sting rose against the backs of Crystal’s eyes. For some reason, what they were doing hadn’t felt so intimate until he’d done that. Stupid, really, but feeling connected to someone else wasn’t something she was used to.

With his other hand, Shane played with her hair, stroking it back off her face, tucking it behind her ear, wrapping a long length of it around a finger, then releasing. From there, his hand trailed over her arm, just a comforting rub, like he was trying to warm her.

So this is what affection feels like. Yep. But don’t get used to it. Easier said than done. Because Shane’s touch was like water to someone who’d been stranded in the desert. Crystal wasn’t sure how she’d be able to stop with just one sip.

“What just happened?” Shane asked in a low voice against her ear.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You just tensed up, sweetness. Am I making you uncomfortable?” He lifted his arms away.

Instantly missing him, Crystal grabbed his hand and brought it back against her stomach. “No. Not at all. It’s . . . nice.”

“Then what?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

“Turn around here a little bit, Crystal. Please?” Nerves made her stomach flutter, but she turned on her hip so that her left shoulder was tucked into the crook under his right arm, her thigh propped up a little on his. He nudged her chin upward until she met his gaze. “Nothing you could think or say to me would be stupid. Ever. Please don’t devalue yourself that way because I never would.”

Crystal’s throat went tight. Because Shane—in all his goodness, in all his decency—was the real deal. And it was both amazing and tragic that she’d ever met him. “I don’t know what to say,” she rasped.

His hand slid up, warm and strong against her cheek. “Just say okay.”

“Okay,” she whispered, because in that moment, she was totally powerless against Shane McCallan. He could ask anything, do anything, and she’d be right there with him. Her eyes dropped to his lips and her memory resurrected the feel of them against her own, the delicious minty taste of his tongue in her mouth, the incredibly arousing sounds he made in the back of his throat as he devoured her.

Against her hip, Shane’s erection grew, and a wave of desire rushed through Crystal’s body.

“Don’t look at me like that, Crystal,” he said, his voice a raw scrape. It wasn’t a demand or a threat. It was a plea. And the thought that this big, strong, powerful man was begging her for anything was thrilling.

“Like what?” she asked, dragging her gaze up to his. In the diffuse light of the streetlamp, she could tell his eyes were absolutely blazing, and it only fueled the arousal rising up inside her.

“Like maybe you want me the way I want you.” Tilting his head, he nuzzled his face against hers, the tip of his nose trailing over her cheek, his breath ghosting over her lips. “Like maybe you’d let me kiss you and touch you.” A quick brush of his lips against her temple and ear. “Like maybe you’d let me in.”

Crystal could barely breathe for the way her heart was pounding and her pulse was racing. She slid a hand up his chest to his neck, wanting, needing, just absolutely yearning to have this. Just this once.

Leaning into him, Crystal held his gaze and adored the way his expression filled with such expectant satisfaction, like she’d surprised him. Pleased him.

She pressed her lips to his.

The groan he unleashed was needful, almost triumphant. His arms came around her gently and pulled her in. And it wasn’t enough. She needed to be closer. Deeper. She needed more of Shane McCallan.

She might never get another chance.

A flicker of unbidden panic whipped through her body. Bruno had been her only lover for the past four years, and she’d only been able to take him inside her after months’ buildup of trust and familiarity of touch. That was back before he’d shown his true colors. Or before she’d shed her naïveté. Maybe they were the same thing. Who knew?

Stop thinking about Bruno and get out of your head. Just feel. You deserve this. You need this. Besides, cart before horse, much?

Shane pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t come here expecting this. Hoped, maybe.” He smiled. “But I really just needed to see you.”

“I’m glad you came,” she said, combing her fingers through the sides of his hair, then holding his face in her hands.

“What do you want, sweetness? I’d give you anything.” Over her hoodie, his hands rubbed up and down her back, hip to shoulder, hip to shoulder.

Crystal couldn’t find the words, so she tilted her face and claimed his lips, and this time the kiss unleashed a fire that seemed to flash through both of them. She shifted into a kneeling position between his thighs, and he hauled her into his lap so that she straddled him. The position brought the hard length of his cock between her legs and she gasped and moaned at the feel of him so close to where she was wet and wanting.

They pressed closer, held tighter, kissed more deeply until all Crystal knew, all that existed in the world, was this moment, this place, this man.

Shane’s hands moved over her body. Fisting in the long lengths of her hair. Gently cupping and massaging her breasts. Stroking her bare thighs. Crystal adored the way he seemed to need to touch her. How powerful and necessary human touch was. How life-giving and affirming. And how simply mind-blowing was it to discover that touch could be a giving thing, not just about taking, that touch could be healing, and not just about hurting, that touch could comfort, and not just exert control. Even when things had been better with Bruno, they’d never been like this.

And to think she’d found someone who could teach her something so fundamental that she’d never known before. Or, maybe, she’d known but hadn’t believed.

Now she did. Because of Shane. No matter how little time she got to have him in her life, she would always be grateful that he’d shown her what it could be like. With the right person.

Gripping her hair in his fist, Shane reclined her head, opening the line of her throat to his worshipful lips and tongue. He trailed a path of liquid fire over her flesh that left her dizzy, totally awash in sensation. He tugged her hips in tighter, and Crystal moaned at the friction the movement created. He was deliciously hard and thick between her legs. Unable to resist, she rocked herself against him as he laid her back farther so he could kiss the small part of her chest the V-neck of the hoodie revealed. Slowly, he drew down the zipper, trailing kisses lower and lower until the heat of his breath fanned over her nipple through the thin fabric of her uniform.

Just as slow, Shane raised her back up, bringing their bodies together again. Crystal ran her hands over his chest and stomach, but what she most needed was to feel him, skin on skin. Pulling back from their kiss, she tugged at the hem of his shirt, silently asking for permission.

“Anything you want,” he whispered, taking her belly and her heart on a loop-the-loop.

Lifting his shirt just a little, she threaded her hands underneath, reveling in the feel of smooth, masculine skin over well-defined muscle. She traced her fingers over the ridges and through the soft trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans and led up to a light covering across his chest. Her arms further lifted his shirt until Shane finally reached over his head in that one-handed way men had and tugged the fabric free and clear. He dropped it to the floor of the truck beside them.

Shane sat back against the corner where the door met the seat and watched her look at him. Because she couldn’t not look. As cut as he appeared with the shirt on, it was nothing compared to his bare flesh. The man had a leanness to his definition Crystal found so damn sexy. His body possessed none of the fake, overblown musculature of Bruno’s steroid-built body but had every bit of the strength.

Her gaze and her fingers fell to a tattoo over his heart. She couldn’t quite make out the details in the dimness, but it appeared to be a dagger. “What’s this?” she asked, wishing she could see it better.

Shane grabbed her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her open palm. “An old, sad memory.”

The sadness was apparent in his voice, too. It made Crystal want to hold him and protect him in return. “I’m sorry,” she said, wanting to know more, but not wanting to be asked anything else in return. So she figured it wasn’t fair to push him.

“Don’t be.” He tugged her in for another kiss, and now everywhere her hands landed, they encountered warm, hard flesh. She wanted to feel him against her breasts and her stomach, but she would never be able to bring herself to take off her tops. When Bruno took her from behind, even he had her keep on the shirt she wore. No, she could be satisfied with what she had, because getting to experience this stolen moment was absolutely intoxicating, particularly as Shane devoured her in another molten-hot, breath-stealing kiss. “You’re so damn beautiful, Crystal,” he murmured.

You wouldn’t think so if you saw my back, said a little voice.

His hands landed on her hips and rocked her once, twice, three times against his cock, chasing away the destructive thoughts and replacing them with pure erotic sensation. Somehow, his touch and his kiss and the way he moved against her managed to be both urgent and gentle. She loved the combination because it gave her the reassurance of his desire and the security that she was safe.

It was perfect for her. He was perfect for her.

Except he wasn’t.

Burying her face in his neck, Crystal concentrated on the heat and pressure building between her legs. It had been so long since she’d last orgasmed that she wasn’t sure she could, but damn did it feel absolutely amazing to try. She gasped and moaned as he rocked her harder, faster.

“I want you to come,” he whispered against her ear. “I want to hold you in my arms and feel you fall apart. Because of me.”

“Shane,” she rasped, as her fingers clenched the muscles of his shoulders.

“That’s it, sweetness, hold on to me.” He kissed her neck and gripped her hips harder and met her rocks with thrusts of his own.

“Oh, my God,” she said. Sensation swirled through her belly and congregated more and more in her clit until she knew, she absolutely knew, that Shane was going to make her come.

The orgasm was like a bomb detonating underneath her, exploding her into a million pieces and throwing her to the stars. Crystal moaned and held her breath as wave after wave of bliss washed through. Shane claimed her mouth in a fiery kiss that stole what little breath she still had. When the intensity receded, she found herself wrapped so tightly around Shane’s body, she wasn’t sure they would ever again come apart.

And she was totally okay with that.

Because earlier in the night, she’d worried she was falling for Shane. And now she knew she’d been wrong. Not falling. Fallen.

Crystal collapsed against Shane, and his arms held her there like he didn’t want her to move any more than she did.

This warm, soaring pressure in her chest had to be love. Not that she had a lot of experience with the emotion. Not romantic love, anyway. But she couldn’t think of anything else that would leave her feeling so invincible and so vulnerable at the same time.

And it wasn’t just because of the orgasm, miraculous as that had been. It was Shane’s goodness and protectiveness and attentiveness. It was his sensitivity and decency. It was his gentle, comforting, arousing touch. The way he called her sweetness. That charming smile.

The fact that he was six-plus feet of gorgeous man was just the cherry on top.

She’d been so comfortable, so blissed out, that Crystal hadn’t become conscious of the wandering of his hands until after they’d slipped under her hoodie and the tank to her uniform and stroked upward, just lazy, massaging drags of his fingers against her bare skin.

Oh, no! She jerked back out of his arms so hard she had to brace on her hands to avoid falling flat on her back across the seat.

But Shane’s darkening expression told her she hadn’t moved fast enough. He’d felt the scars.

Crystal’s throat went tight as tears of humiliation and disappointment threatened. Of course this moment of happiness couldn’t last. Not for her. She swung her legs off him, slid across the seat, and went for the door.

“Crystal, wait,” Shane said, grasping her by the elbow.

“Let me go,” she said. Last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him, but the emotional roller coaster of this day had left her fragile and shaky. She had to get away.

“What the hell was that?” he asked in a disgusted tone. God, she didn’t want to see the expression that went with the voice.

The leather of the seat creaked like he was sliding closer.

It’s midnight, Cinderella. Your coach just turned into a pumpkin.

Shane’s hand landed gently on her back.

Without another thought, she yanked her elbow free, pushed open the door, and jumped out of the truck so fast she pitched forward and had to catch herself on her hands. Gravel and macadam bit into her palms, leaving them raw and burning.

“Crystal!”

She took off at a dead run. Up the sidewalk and across the street. And, as little rocks and other debris flayed the soles of her feet, she realized she’d left her flip-flops in Shane’s truck.

Lost her shoes. Just like Cinderella.

Except her life was no fairy tale. Not by a long shot.

“Crystal!” Shane’s voice—desperate, closer.

She wrenched open her truck door, scrabbled in, and shut and locked the door. Her hands were shaking so bad that it took three tries to get the key from her pocket and into the ignition. By then Shane was at her door and knocking on the window.

“Please don’t go,” he said, voice muffled by the glass and the pounding beat of her pulse in her ears. “Crystal, please.” He smacked the flat of his hand against the glass. “Please talk to me.”

The truck started on a roar. She hit the gas, and the truck lurched forward, forcing Shane to jump back.

For a good thirty seconds, Shane ran after the truck. And it was staring at him in the rearview mirror that made her realize she was crying, sloppy streams of tears that streaked mascara under her eyes.

When she looked in the mirror again, he’d stopped. Hands on his hips, head hanging low, he just stood there. And then he turned in a slow circle, like he was lost. A huge tattoo she couldn’t quite make out covered his back. Crystal hated how defeated he looked, hated that she’d been the one to do that to him.

After everything he’d done for her.