Hard as Steel: Book four ( Surviving Series )

by Virginia Wine

  Nerves bounce as the familiar pungent smells of disinfectant cast images of my own time spent here. It was long ago, but the memories work their way through to the surface, striking with great force. The journey through hell and back wasn’t an easy one, it was a necessary one.

  Standing at the front desk the woman greets me with a warm smile. Before I get a word out I hear my name and glance over my shoulder. Her long chestnut hair flows over her shoulders. The frown framing those big brown eyes that change color in the light, focus on me. And in this moment, I feel it, a subtle distance between us. I wonder if she feels it too. She keeps herself closed off from me, again. Running from her demons, running from me.

  “How is she?” I say calmly.

  “Traumatized, the hospital did what was expected, the rape kit, pictures, she was humiliated, which only added insult to injury.” Her hands slid into the pockets of her tight black pants looking away, as my gaze drifts to hers, her beautiful face framed by stands of slick cascading over her shoulders.

  “There’s more.” I search her eyes anxiously awaiting, as I take one step closer reaching out to touch her shoulder, she didn’t flinch, just the opposite. Nick collapses against my chest, as my brain processes her need to connect, allowing my arms to wrap around her waist. I brace myself.

  “Tell me.”

  Her gaze sweeps over mine, still entangled within our embrace. I witness the pain in her features change and harden.

  “She’s been cut.” Confusion swirls in my mind, forcing myself to think straight again, my gaze locks on Nicks. “Her back, long jagged cuts where scars grew over the wounds. Scores one after another tortured over time. The lacerations are far from new.” She swallows hard. “And the word Grace, tattooed on her lower back.”

  The news triggers every cell in my body, as rage flips every switch within me to fight, to hunt, to kill. I brush past Nick, desperate to see the girl but Nick’s hand lands on my arm, I turn towards her in a fog of fury radiating off my entire being.

  “Whatever you do, don’t…”

  “What, say anything, interrogate the poor girl? I won’t, what do you take me for? Her fractured soul couldn’t bare that now.”

  It disturbs me, Nick’s low opinion, her lack of trust in my ability. But I’d bury it for now.

  But the question still lingers. How could anyone be so cruel. I open the door and step into her room, the low light filtering through the space.

  My gaze streaks from wall to wall, the accommodations I was far more familiar with than I let on.

  She jack-knifed up, fear evident as I gaze upon her fragile state.

  “It’s just me, remember I’m Steel.” I find a chair, easing down to sit as her spine rests to a normal stature. Her breathing leveling out, in the corner of my eye Nick appears leaning against the wall.

  “Yes, I remember.” She says in a whisper. “And the other man?” Her gaze swings directly to mine.

  “Flynn? Yes, it was his house, he’s my best friend, but he’s not here.”

  “Friend.” She repeats softly her face fell low against her chest, as if sampling the word for the first time. Both concern and curiosity fight for answers. But the questions will have to wait, trust and healing would become our new priority.

  “What should I call you?” I attempt a smile. “Mystery girl just doesn’t have a ring to it.”

  She shrugs.

  “Grace?” I offer, her eyes focus and seem pleased. A part of me was hoping it may jar her memory. But at this point small moments of trust are triumphs. “Then it’s settled, Grace it is.”

  “It’s a beautiful name.” Nick joins in, I look her way and see her gracefully approach. Her lips curl in a smile. And with a heavy sigh a flicker of hope appears, once again reeling me back in, the woman was driving me mad.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow Grace.” I rise and cross the room with slow deliberate steps, hearing Nick’s soft words of comfort, and promises of returning.

  We walk side by side down the long hall in silence the walls were closing in, a kaleidoscope of distorted images switching between the past and the present. Hindering my ability to see, or remain in the moment.

  “I need caffeine, you?” She offers, breaking the spell. I shake my head no, she turns into the break-room. Only to return with two. “Looks like you need one.”

  “Thanks.” Accepting the coffee. “I’d like to talk to you, privately.” Her gaze swings to mine.

  “Look, I have to get back…”

  I turn and face her. “Of course.” I give her a wry smile, setting aside the rejection slicing through me. The depths of her eyes unable to hide the conflict buried beneath them. She could dodge around the subject for now. But, she can’t avoid me forever.

  The elevator slid shut as she disappears behind the metal doors. And with it went my sense of calm she unknowingly provides. With a heavy sigh, I turn and veer a sharp right resting my shoulder against the wall, my thoughts race, as memoires of her flood in, drowning all other senses.

  I hear a voice, then the weight of one hand placed on my shoulder gripping hard, securing me. “Flynn.” I look over my shoulder to see his eyes fill with concern.

  “How are you handling being back here?”

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s why I asked.”

  Nothing rattles Flynn, if it did he hides it well. We’ve been friends for years. It was not in his nature to lose it, come undone. No, his job was keeping me from doing all those things. And that’s why he’s here, to balance the tides.

  “It was thirty days Flynn, a lot can happen, digging into secrets buried deep, for good reasons.” Emotionally protecting myself from the traumas hidden away for safe keeping.

  “Depends on how you look at it, Steel.” His gaze steady as he meets mine on solid ground. “PTSD, is a trauma you have to whittle down to the very core, for your own wellbeing you had to step into the fire and walk through it unscathed.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Me? I process things differently.” I nod, acknowledging what I already knew. Hidden behind the warrior is a polar opposite man who focuses on nourishing his mind, body and spirit with balance. With regular intervals which free him from the burdens and traumas that exist in our world.

  “What do we know? He says, having the mindfulness to determine when to shift directions.

  “Her absence of memory may indeed be a blessing, from what we uncovered so far, it’s been a horror show.”

  We both stop short as the sounds erupt from her room, we were only four doors down. We both take off in a sprint practically taking down several orderlies and a nurse whose scowl warns us we are in deep shit. But, nothing deters us once Flynn hands meet her door, he takes a calming breath and enters.

  There she was, in the middle of a war, a night terror gone very wrong. Tears steaming behind closed eyes, fighting, churning in the small bed. Flynn approaches cautiously, whispering soothing words

  “Her name is Grace.” He snaps his head around and just stares at me.

  “How do you know?”

  “A tattoo on her back, I’ll fill you in on the rest later.” He turns his attention back to Grace, gently rubbing her check with the back of his hand.

  And as God is my witness, I would have never believed what happened next, unless I’d witnessed it myself. “Hush little baby don’t say a word papa’s gonna buy you a mocking bird.” Flynn whisper-sings close to her ear. “And if that mocking bird won’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.” One by one her limbs relax, listening intently to the lullaby. “And if that diamond ring turns brass.”

  I stood frozen as the scene unfolds before my very eyes. I watch as the terror magically trickles away, due to this one man’s capacity to comfort. Her eyes find Flynn’s.

  “Hi Grace.” He says.

  “I remember you.”

  “My name is Flynn.”

  “Flynn?”

  “Flynn’s my last name, but you can call me.” He leans in
and whispers in her ear. “No one calls me by given name.” A hint of a smile appears. I can’t explain what happened, it was as if he had the ability to rule the world, calm the storm, push back tides, his veiled ability exposed. I thought I knew him. Yet there were layers I never saw, layers I was never meant to see.

  “Grace, are you alright now? We have work to do but we’ll be back tomorrow.” She nods, the smile slightly fades as we cross the floor single file with a renewed sense of purpose.

  “You want to explain that?”

  “My sister had autism, I used to sing to her when she was upset.”

  “You calmed her, not just that it was so much more, you made her feel valued, like she mattered.” Once inside my SUV the doors close, the engine roars to life.

  “I never knew about your sister.”

  “I know.” He says his gaze focusing out the window as the world passes by. “She’s gone now, I don’t reminisce, she stays in the shadows.”

  I let it go, focusing on recapping the facts to Flynn as Nick had shared them with me. Grace had been brutalized, it wasn’t easy to hear the details, and Flynn wasn’t handling it any better.

  “How old is she?”

  “I’m still working on that, I have a meeting with the Dr. tomorrow to shed some light on what he knows.”

  “I want to be there.”

  “Sure.” And that verified my suspicions, it was more than fighting injustice, it was personal.

  “Your brothers will miss you, Nichole.” The obvious sigh that follows is designed to instill guilt, which is working like a charm. “It’s nice to know you haven’t lost your touch, Mom.” I bite my lip; the words slip out before I can catch them.

  “No, young lady I haven’t.” Here it comes. “All Mother’s use whatever means possible to reunite their family, this particular approach is handed down generation to generation.” Although, I didn’t miss the laugh slipping from her lips.

  I wasn’t happy about missing another Christmas at home, I missed my family too. The truth being, my job came first, and always has. I’m up for a promotion, and that means focusing on each case as if it were a crusade.

  “Sorry Mom, you know I’d be there if I could.”

  “I could send one of your brothers so you won’t be alone.” Oh hell no.

  “I’ll be fine, I’ll be working, he won’t even see me.” Trapped, I fell right into her clutches. “I’ll see what I can do Mom.” I end the call, excepting defeat, she out-played me once again.

  I arrive at New Beginnings facility at nine o’clock sharp. I have other cases, but the more time I spend with Grace, the more she pulls me in. As if tethered by an unknown source. I knock gently and enter with caution, she’s still fragile as a baby bird, and I know to tread lightly.

  As I approach, the muted morning light fights its way through the shielded blinds causing a shadowy effect across her face.

  “Good morning Grace.”

  “Nichole, FBI agent.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Her manner direct, matter of fact. As if there is an absence of emotion. “I heard you had a bad dream last night, do you recall any details?”

  She looked away hollow, and empty.

  I can see her face as tears well up, she fights against the emotions as one by one they fall down her cheeks. “He was here.”

  I listen in fascination, a glimpse into her world. “Who is he?” She shrugs, I wasn’t certain if she was unable or unwilling to divulge the details. The door opens as a nurse carrying a food-tray crosses the room and sits it on Grace’s table. “Breakfast. I have a meeting soon; can I come back and visit afterwards?”

  “Ah huh.”

  “See you soon.” I watch her take a bite or two before exiting her room towards the office where we will be meeting with her doctor. I knock on the door and quietly slip in, interrupting the three men. “Am I late?”

  “No, come in.” Steel leans against the wall, folds his arms across his chest. I know that look, he’s boiling with rage.

  “I can’t be certain, but her scars indicate they may be as old as three years, some newer.” Flynn sits deceivingly calm, that is until I see his fingers rolled into fist.

  “How old is she?” Flynn asks looking him square in the eyes.

  “Early twenties?” He flips through the charts. “Among the obvious older scars, there’s bruises, cuts and scrapes but no evidence of any additional trauma.” He flips through each page. “No signs of broken bones, or malnutrition.”

  We all do the math, she had to be taken when she was in her late teens. We ruled out domestic violence on day one there would have been some sign, evidence of a police report, a paper trail, but there was nothing.

  I feel the pain piercing through me as I imagine the course her life has taken. It feels as if a python has coiled around my body, gripping tightly around my chest stealing my breath, as desperation grips my need to find who’s responsible. We are all fueling to nail the bastard who’s responsible.

  The Dr. closes the file, resting his forearms on his desk, and threads his fingers. “It’s highly probable the sexual assault began early on. Here at New Beginnings, we look for trauma symptoms, triggers to tap into the very core of their memories. Inevitably the patient slowly recalls some feature of their abuse, slowly remembering. Usually the details are vague, our minds have ways to protect themselves; and we start there, Grace however hasn’t revealed any past events. So, we’re left with a much slower process of treatment.”

  “We plan to continue working the case, Dr.” Steel adds.

  “Of course, but understand this, I can’t share what Grace tells me with you. If Grace chooses to share her memories with you, that’s her decision.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Thank you.” Flynn rises and steps into the hall, ushering me out followed by Steel.

  All eyes were on me. “I’ve searched the data base, face recognition, finger prints, missing children. It’s as if she’s never existed.” A sobering thought.

  “The only one that knows is Grace, and she’s blocking it for obvious reasons.” Flynn says. “I have a few leads to work on. But first, I’ll stop in to say hello.” He turns. “I’ll be in touch.” As he walks away leaving Steel and I alone.

  Steel lifts a handsome brow my way making me feel things I didn’t want to feel. His eyes roam over my body as excitement pumps through me, I tried to stomp it down, deny it, turn it off. But it’s powerful, intense. If I don’t get out of here, I could end up completely consumed by him.

  I met his gaze. “I have a meeting scheduled.”

  “Ah huh, not until you come clean Nicole. Either explain now, or come over tonight and we can discuss this like adults.”

  I didn’t have the good sense to just turn and leave. No, my body betrayed me at every turn nearly melted at the idea of alone time with him.

  “That’s not a good idea.” I didn’t need the complications that came with Steel Archer, not now, when I’m up for a promotion. Future aspirations… how important was it to climb the ladder of success, to become the first woman achieve the next attainable goal? Steel was a distraction I couldn’t afford if I planned to stay focused on my goals.

  “I’m used to doing things my way.” He smirked.

  “I’ve noticed.” As if the world spun just for him. “Not to mention your inability to accept the word no.”

  “And there’s that.” He smirks and took one step closing the distance between us causing hot scorching blood to hum through my veins. “You do have a soft spot, Nick.” He clutched a fist-full of my white cotton blouse yanking me against him. His breath raining down on me, minty-fresh.

  “I think you’ve known that all along.” I said.

  “This isn’t a game.” He whispered above my ear, the tone turned serious. “Tonight, seven o’clock.” He pulls away and was about to leave and did an about face. “Oh, and Nick, leave that hard exterior at home.” And he was gone, leaving me enthralled by his single touch. My plan to focus
solely on work, scatter to the floor. The potency in his honesty displayed, was unequivocally candid. His intention was clear. But, were mine?

  I stepped into the meeting room, in Nevada’s field office. At first glance sat the Deputy Director Andrew Quentin, his tall lean build the result of his competitive nature, placing in triathlons, or riding his bike to work and back. He presented a nicely rounded package; his handsome features and graying temples only escalated his slightly playboy reputation. Rumors swirled around the man, but it’s possible, it’s all hear-say.

  Six others joined us in the meeting all with their own agendas, mine being focused on the Crime task force, which spread through the state like wild fire. The morning progressed as expected.

  Lunch was catered in, changing the tone of the meeting, a relaxing commentary circled the room, as conversations began between others. I took the time to update my notes. “May I?” I gazed up meeting Andrew Quentin’s warm smile as he pulled the chair out and seated himself next to me. “Nichole.” His dimples on display clouding my thoughts. “May I call you Nicole?”

  “Of course.” A foreign scratchy voice was heard, mine. Followed by a rush of heat reaching my pink cheeks. Keep it Professional. He chuckled in response only making matters worse, he knew how he affected women, he read me like a book.

  “Quite the resume Nichole.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But you still strive for more, true?” He crossed his ankle placing it on his opposing knee. I saw the appeal, his charisma, confidence, and power all magnets to the opposite sex. I won’t lie, he was easy to like, easy to want. But, it made sense to be cautious.

  “Yes sir, I’m proud to serve, and achieve every goal I set out to attain.” I sounded like a recruitment poster for the armed-service.

  “Admirable.”

  “Focused, sir.” He leans back casually sinking into the dark leather chair, watching my every move, accessing me. My stomach knotted in response.

  “Focused will get you far.” But, something in the way he looked at me warned me to tread lightly. As a young blond woman wearing a form fitting suit approaches. “Sir, you have urgent business,” I watch as she leans in, leaning close in an all too familiar way whispering the urgent matter.”