The Strongest Steel (32 page)

“Was thinking about what Lopes just said,” he started as casually as his own nerves would allow. “We need to be careful, darlin’. This seems more sophisticated than I figured. I’d feel better if we just stuck together, like every night, and as much as we can during the day while we wait this out.”

“We can’t stop living our lives just because something bad is out there. A million and one things could happen to us on any given day.” Her voice broke slightly, but she gave him a tight smile.

He turned to look at her, banking his own fears.

“You work with Cujo on a daily basis. That’s dangerous,” she said with a shrug.

He laughed as he expected she meant him to. That she would try and make
him
feel better was just one of the reasons he’d be there for her every hour he could. If he couldn’t go into the shop, so be it. It might well be his baby, his pride and joy, but it just wasn’t his main priority anymore.

*   *   *

The heavenly scent of bacon roused her from sleep. Cozy in the warmth of the comforter, Harper opened one eye, squinting a look across the now-empty bed.

A solitary sliver of sunlight broke through the blinds. Harper lifted her head and looked at Trent’s alarm clock. It read 8:50 a.m.

With a yawn, Harper sat up and stretched, reaching her arms high above her head. She’d long since given up trying to wear clothes to bed. Invariably Trent pulled them off her, and she was just too damn exhausted to put them back on afterward.

“Now that would make a great photograph.” Putting the tray down on the floor next to the bed, Trent pushed her back down and crawled on top of her, his perfectly smooth chest brushing against her.

He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her softly, and put his hands on either side of her face, resting his forearms by her shoulders.

Unable to resist his muscular back, Harper ran her fingers down to the elastic of the soft sweatpants he’d pulled on.

Would she ever get used to the tightening around her heart and the flip in her stomach when he kissed her? It couldn’t be natural to feel this much for someone else.

When Trent pulled his lips away from hers, she felt bereft at the loss.

“Happy birthday, darlin’!”

Harper sat up and kissed his dimples. “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips.

“Thought you might like breakfast in bed to start your day. Can’t promise a culinary delight, but it’s edible and I didn’t set fire to anything.”

The tray was set perfectly, with little salt and pepper shakers and cutlery wrapped in a napkin. There was even a little vase with a single red rose in it. The food was, well, piled. Literally, piled in the middle of the plate. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns were stacked like a five-year-old’s Play-Doh sculpture. Slightly burned toast sat off to the side on a small plate.

Harper smiled as she grabbed a crisp slice of bacon and took a bite.

They ate their breakfast sitting cross-legged in bed, laughing at a story involving Cujo, a mechanical bull, and an ill-fitting pair of jeans.

When they were finished, Trent grabbed the tray and took their dishes to the kitchen.

“Time for presents,” he said when he returned. He dropped a bag between her outstretched legs before perching on the side of the bed. “I’m saving the others for later.”

Harper pulled her hand up to her chest. “Oh my … you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Trent smiled, but from the look in his eyes, he was nervous. “Making it to another birthday is something worth celebrating, darlin’.”

Harper reached into the beautiful purple bag, past the silver tissue paper, and took out a black rectangular box. She opened it slowly. On a dark purple cushion sat a pendant, a crystal that looked like a glass teardrop and hung from a simple black leather cord. Ribbons of red and orange twisted inside the glass, as if someone had dropped the bright hues into swirling water.

“It’s stunning.” Harper held it up to the light to watch the colors change.

“I got the idea from your tattoo. A friend of mine is a glass artist, so I drew it up and asked her to make it.”

Happy tears filled her eyes. He’d designed it just for her.

“The flames gave me the idea.” He took it from her and spun his finger to get her to twirl.

Harper turned and lifted her hair up off her neck. He fastened the necklace for her, kissing her briefly on the neck.

She went to the mirror by the door to look at it, turning from side to side. It looked like fire was encased inside the crystal.

Running back to the bed, she launched herself at Trent and knocked him back to the bed with a loud
umph
.

“I. Love. It.” Harper punctuated the words with loud kisses against Trent’s smiling lips. “Love it. Love it. Love it.” Harper continued to kiss Trent’s face all over as he tickled her to get her off him. She focused on Frankie’s training.
Hard to soft, hard to soft.
Pressing her elbow gently against his neck, she laughed when he lifted a hand away from tickling her and gripped her wrist. Flicking her arm outward, she broke his grasp and tightened her thighs around his.

“Playing dirty, huh?” He laughed, putting some muscle into it. “I guess I have Frankie to thank for this.” He sat up quickly, wrapping his arms tightly around her to pin her arms by her sides. She pretended to bite his cheek before licking it quickly.

Finally rolling them over, Trent loomed above her.

“Glad you like it, darlin’.” He smiled before lowering his lips to hers for a drawn-out kiss.

Harper lifted her legs up and wrapped them around his waist.

“I love it,” she murmured against him as he ground himself against her.

“Not as much as I do,” he practically groaned.

Gripping his hair in her hands, she lifted his head from her neck and met his lips with hers.

Chapter Twenty-three

“It’s untraceable, Ms. Kennedy,” Detective Lopes told her on the phone. “There’s no way of pinning down where the initial message is originating from.” Harper opened the sliding door to Trent’s balcony, inhaling a deep breath of the humid sea air.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not Nathan though, does it?” Detective Lopes had been good at updating her over the last five days, but he rarely had anything useful to tell her.

“No, it doesn’t. I have nothing to go on. His probation officer speaks very highly of him. He’s in full-time employment and is attending all of his anger management classes. And he’s still in Chicago. He’s abiding by all the rules of his parole.”

Harper ended the call. The information Lopes had given them at the station about the malware nagged at her. Lord knows Nathan had been a genius when it came to computers. On one occasion, he’d hacked into her professor’s computer to download her final-exam questions in a gesture he thought was romantic. He was stunned when she refused to look at them.

There was something else bothering her too. Harper marched into the kitchen and fired up Trent’s laptop, entering the quote that had been spray-painted on Trent’s studio. It was definitely a powerful quote, and Harper needed a refresher on why. Used to research, she didn’t need to look long to find what she sought. It was another message.

She took a few minutes to send Lydia and her parents a quick note to have their computers checked for malware. It was only a thought, but maybe Nathan was getting his information from them as well as her.

It was nearly six, and Trent was expecting her soon. He was taking her out for her birthday to Salt, an upscale restaurant in Coconut Grove that faced the water. She walked back into the apartment and pulled out the green-and-black underwear she had bought while shopping with Drea, laying it on the bed next to a black dress with narrow straps that hugged tight in all the right places. With Trent threatening to seduce her with oysters, she needed a little ammunition of her own.

She pulled out her makeup, determined to blow Trent away. Halfway through applying her mascara, Harper stopped, frozen. Her life had become a roller coaster, highs and lows of events and emotions that ran together in a high-speed blur on a daily basis. But she wasn’t panicking. Her hands weren’t flicking. She wasn’t drowning in a flood of dark thoughts. She was scared but not freaking out, taking control and getting on with her life.

The thought made her smile.

*   *   *

“Not sure how she’s gonna take all this.” Trent lifted one foot up on the small ledge against the window of the studio, which vibrated to the sounds of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”

“Well,” said Pixie, looking down the street, “you’re about to find out, big guy.” She tapped the side of his cheek good-naturedly and walked back into the studio.

Trent turned his head and watched Harper walk toward him. She’d obviously been home to change. A fitted black sundress with a thick, emerald-green belt showed off her tiny waist and incredible figure. Black patent platform pumps gave the impression her newly tanned limbs went on for miles. She had a sexy swing to her hips as she moved.

Pushing off the window, he moved to stop her before she got to the studio.

“I swear you just stopped my heart, darlin’.” Taking in her smile, he pulled her toward him and allowed his lips to brush across hers. Those beautiful green eyes fluttered closed as he took her deeper, and it amazed him just how much she responded to him. How they fit.

Pulling back, he gave her a little space and grinned as she found her balance again.

“Do you think that will ever get old?” Harper asked with an embarrassed blush.

“Christ, I hope not. Just remember how you feel right now because you might be really mad at me in about one minute.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t think I like the sound of that.” Harper raised an eyebrow at him.

He took her hand and led her toward the studio before pulling her in front of him, her back to his chest. It was the safest position to avoid a kick in the nuts and the best position to block a fast escape.

He felt Harper’s quick intake of breath as she turned to face him with a hand over her mouth.

“What did you do?” she said through her fingers.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He pushed her through the door as everyone inside shouted, “Surprise!”

*   *   *

“Don’t jump when I do this, Harp, or you’ll give me a complex.” Cujo bumped himself up, sitting next to her on the tattoo bed on which she was currently taking five.

Harper was turning to ask exactly what “this” was when Cujo’s arm slid around her shoulders, bringing her against him in a friendly hug as he kissed the top of her head.

“Happy birthday, Harp.” Harper felt Cujo relax when she didn’t jump. It didn’t feel so strange now to have someone touch her. It was more reassuring and less controlling. Sighing, she leaned against him.

The party was in full swing. Harper was uncertain exactly how many drinks she’d consumed, but she was definitely getting close to her limit. Just about everyone she knew was here. Joanie and the guys from the coffee shop, Drea and Celine, and Frankie and a couple of guys from the gym. Even Eddie, who was in deep discussion with Eric, his T-shirt sleeve pulled up over his shoulder, gesturing over his bicep.

Trent and Drea, heads huddled together, were laughing at a picture on Pixie’s phone.

“I never in a million years expected this, you know. He said we were going to a restaurant.” Did she just slur? Oh my God. She really had drunk enough. Putting the cup of rum and pineapple juice she was drinking behind her, she turned to face Cujo.

“Why not? You do things like this for someone you love.”

Harper sat stunned for a few moments. Did Trent really love her? She’d known for a while now just how much she was in love with him, to the point of knowing she’d only leave him if she had to so he’d be safe. She just hadn’t said those three incredibly powerful words aloud.

Cujo looked at her curiously. “What? Don’t look at me like you don’t know it. He’s half gone, even if he hasn’t had the balls to tell you yet.”

“I love him too,” she whispered, knowing her drunken admission was being said to the wrong person but unable to stop it. Harper grasped around behind her. Where the heck had that drink gone?

“You guys are like mac ‘n’ cheese.”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese?”

“Yeah,” Cujo replied. “They both taste good on their own, you know. But together they are the best comfort food ever. There isn’t a person on the planet who doesn’t appreciate mac ‘n’ cheese.”

She wanted to blow him off, deliver some witty comeback about lactose- and wheat-intolerant people strongly disagreeing with the sentiment, but what he’d said had shaken her foundation.

She smiled. Maybe that was it. There was more than just the immediate heat of passion, that deep burning lust that drew her to him like a moth to a flame. There was a soul-deep comfort in letting yourself fall and trusting that your “someone special” would catch you.

She watched Trent, who was laughing hard at something Drea had just said before he looked over to her, catching her eye. Raising a brow at her, he tilted his head toward Cujo. For fun, she leaned in tight against Cujo, who laughed and wrapped his arms around her.

He landed a loud kiss with a smack on her temple as Trent walked over to them.

“What have I told you about hitting on my girl, Cuj?”

“Hey, if you ignore a great piece of ass like this at a party, then shame on you.” Cujo bounced down off the bed. “Personally, I’d hold onto this one really tight.”

Trent squinted at her. “If I’m not mistaken, Ms. Connelly, you are very drunk.” He handed her the bottle of water he was holding.

Harper pursed her lips, trying to focus on the one Trent in front of her, as opposed to the two other Trents in her peripheral vision. “I think you might be right.”

Harper leaned forward and grabbed his belt loops, pulling him into the space between her legs.

Moving her lips next to his ear, she kissed his lobe gently. “Wanna know a secret, Mr. Andrews?”

Trent didn’t move. “Always, Ms. Connelly.”

“I’ve never had really drunk sex. Care to join me?” This time it was Trent’s turn to look surprised as he stepped back.