Hard as You Can Read Free Page A

Baltimore’s Church Gang and never got out again, herself included. But no way could she be seen as helping them. Not if she wanted to live. And, more importantly, if she wanted Jenna to live.
    Except, Pretty Boy had refused to hit her . . . A man who refused to hit a woman.
    How freaking miserable was her life that a man such as that was so damn unique? Then again, maybe his seeming decency was just because she’d helped him.
    “Crystal,” came a voice full of menace.
    Bruno. She adopted her meekest posture and cradled her stomach as if she’d really been struck, then turned toward her boyfriend and two of his lackeys, stalking down the hall toward her.
    A wall of rage slammed into her a moment before his fingers dug into her upper arms. He nearly lifted her off the floor. “What the hell happened?”
    Knowing how much he got off on his role as her protector, she let every bit of the fear she felt seep into her voice, swallowed hard, and shook her head. “I don’t know. I was taking food downstairs, just like I’d been told. All of a sudden”—she gulped for air—“two armed men crashed into me, and one of them punched me and pushed me down.” Crystal gingerly cupped the back of her head. “And then . . . I’m not sure. I . . .”
    Bruno let out a sound that was almost a growl as he turned to the men behind him. “Check downstairs. Anyone else down there, shoot only to maim. We need answers first.” The men hustled to obey, their feet heavy on the carpeted steps.
    “What else did you see? Think.” He shook her, the grip of his hands tightening, not an ounce of kindness visible in his gaze.
    “Um, they were dressed in dark clothes. Had masks and guns. One seemed to be carrying something on his shoulder, but then the other guy hit me and I fell and they were out the door.” No way she could admit to what else she knew. That she’d seen the faces under the mask when she’d given them directions, especially since she’d known something wasn’t right. Such an admission would serve as a one-way ticket to hell of one variety or another—for her and maybe even her sister, too.
    And she would do anything to make sure that never happened to either of them. Been there, done that, had the scars to prove it.
    Bruno’s callused hands eased on her skin. Suddenly, he yanked her into a fierce, breath-stealing embrace. “I will kill them for touching you,” he said. The declaration was based more on outrage that his “property rights” had been violated when another man had dared touch her than actual concern. She knew that. But better his anger over her than suspicion of her.
    Crystal burrowed into him, like she found solace in his arms. “I was so scared,” she whispered, relishing the adrenaline shakes that gave credibility to her words. Sometimes she worried she was too damn good at acting, that maybe every time she put on one of these little shows, she lost a little more of whatever capability for honesty she’d once possessed.
    As abruptly as he’d pulled her in, he pushed her away. She wobbled on her heels. “Wait in my office. I’ll be back.” Grasping her jaw almost painfully, Bruno kissed her hard. His lips and tongue demanded she respond, so she did. And then he was gone, out the same door through which the prisoner’s saviors had gone.
    Were they truly saviors? Were they even good guys? For the imprisoned man—whoever he was—she hoped so. Given Pretty Boy’s revulsion at her words, her gut told her they were. And if there was one thing she’d gotten better and better at over the past four years of living this life, it was reading people, seeing them for who they really were. And her gut told her that the man with the gray eyes was a savior.
    Just not hers.
    No, when she found a way out of this mess—and she would, for both her and Jenna—it was going to be because Crystal got them out. No such thing as white knights or Prince Charmings or caped crusaders in her life, that was for damn