The Strongest Steel (30 page)

“Here we go.”

The bite of the needle into her skin cut off other thoughts as she adjusted to the pain. It had become an exorcism of sorts. The pain and resulting tattoo were cleansing her of all the bad memories she had, and Trent was helping her replenish her memory with good ones.

It was scary to admit that Trent was becoming as necessary to her as air and water.

Trent broke the silence, scattering her thoughts. “What do you know about Celtic symbols?”

The amount of ink in a very small space was starting to grate on her, the needles moving in such a small area becoming increasingly more painful. She thought back to the sketch of her tattoo, recalling that the handle was made up of predominantly Celtic trinity knots and spirals surrounding precious stones.

“Not that much,” Harper responded through gritted teeth.

“Celtic trinity knots or triquetra can mean many different things. Father, Son, Holy Ghost in Christianity. Pagans celebrate the Virgin, Mother, and Crone. Life, death, and rebirth just about anywhere else. I prefer this one. It means the growth of spirit, life that is eternal, and love that never ends.”

A soothing energy filled the room as Trent described the meaning behind the lines that would be permanently etched on her back. What had started out as being purely a cover-up for something so horrific was becoming a definition of who she was and what she hoped for, way beyond her initial intention.

“The spirals or Celtic triskelions represent the eternal cycle of life, death, and spiritual rebirth. I woke up the morning after I met you and I knew I had to include them somehow because that’s what I think this tattoo means to you.”

Harper felt Trent pause to wipe some of the surplus ink off her back. “And I get that a part of you died when it happened.”

He leaned forward and kissed near the base of her spine, far away from where he was tattooing. “I hope this is a rebirth for you, Harper. That’s what I see when I look at you, darlin’.” Reveling in the power of his words, yet afraid of speaking, of revealing the depth of her true feelings, Harper remained silent.

Trent explained that the two ends of the handles had embedded stones of moss agate. “It’s the most powerful agate,” he said. “It’s believed to help balance emotional energy by allowing the wearer to let go of anger and bitterness.”

Harper could feel the needle going into the left of her spine as Trent inked the green stone. She let her mind focus, visualizing the pent-up anger and frustration leaving her body.

“The center stone is aventurine, red aventurine actually. It could be considered your birthstone. Kit assures me that it supports your root chakra, should you believe in that. Don’t ask me to explain it because it’s not my thing, but she’s a big believer. She says the root chakra ensures your basic needs for safety and health are taken care of. It also helps the wearer see new possibilities and opportunities.”

And she was. It was all becoming clearer that she was staying. She wanted to be with Trent. Tonight wasn’t the night because she didn’t want to sully the incredibly intimate evening, but tomorrow she was going to sit down and tell him about the messages.

“Ouch.” The yelp came out by accident as Trent went back over the bumps of her spine. Harper winced. Trent was doing his best to move the needle location around, she could feel that, but it was really starting to hurt.

She heard Trent put down his equipment and slide the stool around in front of her.

“This is the worst it’s going to be, Harp. You’re being so incredibly brave. I’ve had grown men cry at this point.”

He paused for a moment before kissing her gently on the temple. “We have two options. I can stop in a minute and we can pick it up next time, or I can keep going for another twenty minutes and it will be done. The final appointments, then, will be short and sweet. Not to mention a whole lot less painful.”

Harper took in a deep breath and blew it out harshly. Determined not to cry, she bit down on her lip hard. It stopped the pending deluge, but the tears still threatened.

“Oh darlin’.” Trent kissed her softly. “I’d switch places with you in a heartbeat if I could. I know it hurts where I’m working.”

Harper nodded. He understood. “Can you make it fifteen?”

Trent kissed the side of her eye, where a single tear was making a break for freedom.

“I’ll do it in ten.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“Hey, Harper, come here,” José whispered when Harper arrived for the start of her shift. His forehead wrinkled as he nodded his head toward a table in the corner. “There’s a fella over there been asking for you. The slick-looking guy in the suit. Is everything okay?”

Harper shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. Let me go see what he wants.”

“You were looking for me?” Harper said as she reached his table.

“Harper Connelly?” he asked, his beady eyes observing her. She nodded. “Well, sit, sit, Ms. Connelly. Can I get you a coffee?”

“No, thank you. Would you mind just telling me why you’re here?”

“Of course.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a slim green folder with T
HE
G
ARDEN OF
E
VERLASTING
L
IFE
C
EMETERY
embossed in gold on it. “I’m here for the two o’clock appointment you booked. To discuss the funeral details for your friend…”

He opened the folder to look at the details, but she already knew.

“Ah, yes, there it is. For your friend, Taylor Kennedy.”

Harper pushed back violently from the table and ran from the shop, ignoring José’s shout of concern. Tears streamed down her face, but she ignored the strange looks she was getting as she focused on her destination. Her bag bounced around on her shoulder and her shoes came loose as she ran to the only place she knew she would feel safe.

Throwing open the door to Second Circle, she scanned the studio and found Trent as he came back into the main area from his office. She ran into his arms and let go.

*   *   *

“I thought you would think I’m crazy. I mean, how many of my issues should you have to deal with?”

Harper nursed her whiskey while sitting wrapped in a throw on his sofa. Pixie was calling to cancel all his afternoon appointments, and the team was working furiously to wrap up the tattoos in progress.

He looked down at Harper’s phone one more time, trying his damnedest to control the desire to hit the fucking wall, hard, as he scrolled through the menacing messages she’d been receiving and hadn’t told him about.

“We can talk about why you didn’t share this with me sooner when we get home. But for now, we’ll focus on dealing with the police.”

Harper let out a long, shaky sigh. He felt no satisfaction from pushing her to call them, knowing what it cost her to agree with his decision.

There was a knock on the door and Cujo came in. Trent stood and walked over to him.

“Cops are here. Anything I can do?” he whispered.

Trent gave him the keys to his apartment. “Head over to my place? Pick up Frankie on the way. Just make sure we have no surprises when I bring her home.”

“Got it.” He moved out of the way as Pixie brought the police in.

“Detectives Lopes and James,” she said by way of introduction before leaving with Cujo.

He ushered them over to chairs near the sofa and sat down next to Harper, pulling her close to his side.

“Harper, the detectives are here. You ready for this?” Harper pushed the throw out of the way and reached over to shake their hands.

“Can you tell us, in as much detail as you can, what’s been going on, Harper? Then we can figure out where to go from there.”

Trent listened to Harper nervously retell the story to the cops and watched as they scrolled through her phone. She was terrified, holding a cushion with both arms, pulling it tightly toward her, a shield. The desire to do some damage to his office wall had morphed to images of him doing the same thing to Nathan’s face.

“There’s one other detail you need to know.” Harper reached for his hand, turning to face him as she spoke.

“My name isn’t Harper Connelly. It’s Taylor Kennedy. That’s the name you are going to find on the restraining order.”

Christ, was there going to be no end to the secrets?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered just to him. Despite everything, he squeezed her hand, the need to comfort her compelling in spite of his anger.

“We’ll talk about it once we get through this.”

A cough interrupted them. Detective Lopes.

“We can take the phone in to our lab and see if anything can be tracked, but to be honest, these kinds of things are done with disposables. Untraceable likely, given the duration of the message. We’ll do the best we can. We’ll go talk to the florist, get some more information from them. I expect the flowers were purchased with a hacked credit card.”

“So what else can be done in the meantime?”

“I wish I had a better answer for you, Mr. Andrews. We’ll investigate the leads you’ve given us, put some calls in to Chicago, and give you our cards so you can contact us if anything else strange happens.”

“Harp … Taylor had some issues with the police before she left.” Trent looked at Harper, her mouth open, eyebrows raised. “Sorry, darlin’, but they should know.”

“No, you … don’t, please,” she started, her voice filled with panic.

“What kind of problems?” Detective James cut her off.

“The kind that only money and connections can buy. Her attacker’s father was very well connected, especially to the police, and they conspired to discredit, intimidate, and leave her open to continued harassment.” He felt Harper’s fingernails dig into the palm of his hand and then release, itching to flare. The police couldn’t do their job effectively without all the facts, he knew. All he could do was hope he’d made the right call.

*   *   *

The contents of the side table in the hallway rattled as the door to Trent’s apartment closed with a slam. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since the detectives had left his office, except to tell her that they were leaving.

She jumped as the kitchen cupboard slammed. The clink of glasses hitting the granite followed.

“Want one, Taylor?” He drew her name out, and it sounded foreign coming from his lips. Harper shook her head as he tipped his head back and downed the glass.

The silence was terrifyingly cold. Shoulders hunched, Trent placed both of his hands on the counter and lowered his head.

“Is there anything else I need to know? Hidden kids? A criminal record of your own? Because I got to be honest, I feel like I just took the red pill and am out of the matrix.”

The barb hurt. “I’m sorry. I thought it was for the best. If someone came asking for me, you wouldn’t have to lie.”

Trent lifted his eyes to hers. She could see the hurt etched into the lines in his forehead.

“You don’t trust me? Is that what you are saying?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Harper exclaimed. She wanted to go to him, but the thought of being rejected rooted her to the spot. “That’s not it at all. I didn’t want to drag you any further into my drama so you didn’t get hurt. So he didn’t know you were involved.”

Trent straightened and walked towards her, stopping right in front of her, and put his hands on either side of her face, his eyes stripping away the lies and untruths.

“Don’t you get it, Harper? For reasons I can’t even begin to understand right now, I want to be with you. I want a future with you. Good or bad. Together. So right here, right now, you gotta tell me what you want too, because if it isn’t this … if it isn’t us … I need to know. And if this
is
what you want, you need to tell me if there is anything else I need to know.” His forehead touched hers, his breath warm on her lips.

“There isn’t anything else. You know everything. And yes, that is what I want. More than anything. It’s the only reason I’m still here. That I haven’t run. You’ve anchored me here.”

His hands sank into her hair and his mouth crushed hers. In that moment as he took her, she realized that losing Trent would hurt more than anything she had already been through.

*   *   *

Harper was stroking his chest, her breath slow and steady. They’d talked. A lot. Her tears had stopped, and thankfully her kisses hadn’t. He could spend the rest of the night just kissing her soft, swollen lips and generally staring at the wonder of her like the soppy ass he was.

“Will you keep calling me Harper?” Harper folded her arms on his chest and looked at him thoughtfully.

“I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, darlin’.” Calling her anything other than Harper would be really weird, but it was her choice.

“I’m not sure I’m Taylor anymore.” He couldn’t stop touching her. He ran one hand up and down the sexy little dip at the base of her back. The other he gently pulled through the length of her hair.

“Harper it is, then. How did you choose it?”

Harper let out a small laugh. “Honestly?”

“I hope you are always honest with me from today onward, darlin’.”

“I was at the bus station and went to the little convenience store to get some water for the trip. While I was standing in the line to pay, I saw Jennifer Connelly on a magazine cover. I knew I was going to use a different name, and I got told once I looked a bit like her—but I figured taking her whole name would be more than a bit weird. The magazine next to the one she was on was
Harper’s Bazaar
. So I combined them.”

Trent laughed, remembering Cujo’s unknowingly accurate comment about Harper being bizarre.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, as Harper drifted off to sleep on his chest. They hadn’t had the easiest of starts but they were finally where they needed to be.

*   *   *

“Move in with me.”

Harper’s heart beat through her chest at the words.

“I’m serious, Harper. Move in with me. I want us to be together. All the time. Not just when we can squeeze in a night together.”

She’d never thought she’d hear those words again. Or even want to. And now that she had, it just wasn’t that easy. She was stuck. She didn’t want to run anymore, but putting down permanent roots seemed more than she was ready for.