Hard as Steel: Book four ( Surviving Series )

by Virginia Wine

  “Call me in the morning with any updates.” And with that I leave.

  I wake alone, the bed cold as the wind picks up. I gaze out the window as the trees sway back and forth. Fighting the urge to catch a few more minutes of sleep, I run a hand over my face and I get up. Making my way into the bathroom, the cold tile sending a chill through me as I turn on the shower.

  Look closer. The words echoed in my mind. What clue did we miss, did Grace fully understand what she was alluding too? Once under the warm beads of water pelting against me my mind begins to drift, categorizing every small clue. Once I step out, I wrap the towel around my waist and look into the mirror.

  Her tattoo came to mind. Grace, the letters scrolled on her lower back, a tramp stamp. It made sense her predator would brand her. She had to have had it done locally. The girl could not have come far, not in the condition we found her. I quickly send a text to Flynn asking him to send me a picture of her tat, and of Grace. He replied instantly. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Not intentionally. I plan to search local tattoo parlors.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, you need me to come in?”

  “Not yet, I’m going back to the office to talk with Cyrus. And my phone chimes with two images, the scrolling detail of her tattooed name had a signature all its own, the artist would be proud to claim their handiwork. And the other an image of Grace, just woken, her bangs slightly disheveled but her clean makeup free face would prove useful, I hoped.

  Once I reached the parking lot, I drove around the back where I saw Cyrus’s truck. Climbed out of my SUV, as Cyrus opened the door before I could insert the key.

  “Sir, I found something.” A hollow wave rolled through me, as I anticipated every scenario those words could apply too. “From your list of suspects, sir.” My heart started to hammer in my chest. I followed as Cyrus weaved his way back to his office, several computers alive with each task progressing, other electronics littered the floor, the chair, it was organized chaos.

  “Look.” I stood behind him hunched over the back of his chair following his finger as it trailed over the screen. “See? If you track your deposit it leads directly from your Cayman account.” I wanted to object, but chose not to interrupt. “If you continue farther back in time, two months to be exact. It wasn’t a deposit, per say. It was a transfer within the bank. The name on the origin account is Peyton Ramirez.”

  “Fuck.” You won’t forget a name like that, or a woman who looked as she did. “Any ties to Myles Carrington?”

  “Not yet, but I’m still digging.” His gaze met mine fueled with the same type of anger I felt. “If it’s there, I’ll find it, sir.” I agreed, stepping over his many ongoing task.

  “You need a bigger office son.”

  “I make do, sir.”

  “I’ll be out of the office today, I’m searching local tattoo parlors.”

  “Oh, do you need a recommendation, I have a guy.” As he rolled up his sleeve exposing only a portion of an eagle, dog tags hanging around its neck. It was fierce, and bold living homage to his stent in the service and his loyalty to his country.

  “Yes, you can tag along, be ready in a couple hours.”

  “Sir, yes sir.”

  After an hour on the phone, and shuffling through my in basket, I google Tattoo parlors within a thirty-mile radius and print it.

  I sent Nick a text telling her I missed her, and to call when she could. I wanted to update her on Grace’s move, and more importantly hear her voice. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time, two hours with no response, she must be unavailable and turned her phone off, only something of true importance would cause her to do that.

  I take the time to call into her office, the fucking hoops I had to jump through was short of giving them my first-born child. Finally, I got the word that she was in a meeting with none other than the fucking Deputy Director Andrew Quentin.

  Horrible images raced through my mind. I acknowledged that Nick has been forced to go toe to toe with men her entire career, yet this felt different. This was coercion dangling her promotion in exchange for God knows what. I sounded jealous, because I was. At times it brings out the worst in me, a small character flaw. I’ve claimed her and now this prick was pissing circles around what was mine. I admit, I was getting all worked up over nothing. But for some idiotic reason I just couldn’t get a grip.

  A knock drags me from my ludicrous thoughts as Cyrus opens the door and crosses the room standing, waiting for his orders. “Grab the list from the printer.” I push one arm into my coat and then the other, aggression seeping from me as Cyrus’s gaze drifts, as if reading my mind.

  “A new development, sir?”

  “No, a woman.”

  “Ah, say no more.”

  Once inside my SUV, it roared to life, I stepped on the gas peeling rubber out of the parking lot. Cyrus twists and reaches over his shoulder clicking himself under the seat beat. The jester amuses me as cars whizz by building after building, in a distant memory.

  “Where to first, let’s start geographically.”

  “Two miles up on the right is the closest.” We walk into the dingy place as a bell chimes above our heads. A man covered in tattoos steps from behind the torn fringed curtain. “Help ya?” he asks.

  “Yes, we are searching for the artist who tattooed this young woman.” And without even looking at the pictures he begins to protest. “I don’t give tats to minors, you best get going.”

  I was in a mood, slamming the pictures on the counter as it echoed and bounced off the walls. “Jesus, calm yourself.” He leaned over, took his glasses from his front pocket then confirmed. “Not my work, I sign mine. See?” He flipped through pages of his past clients, and clear as day a small cross located within the art was hidden.

  “Cross him off.” The same pattern repeated itself for the next three parlors. I was feeling discourage when Cyrus chimed in.

  “This is my place sir. Cyrus says. “Do you mind if I take the lead I’ve known Snake for years.”

  “Snake, that’s his name? By all means.” The moment we stepped inside, it felt legitimate. We approached to the desk, Cyrus tapped the bell and Snaked walked out.

  “No, shit man.” As he darted around the register and went in for a man hug.” I haven’t seen you since you got out.” Snake says. Scents of alcohol or disinfectant drifted through the place, I took that as a good sign. He gestured to the chair across from him, as we both sat. “How’s the family? You here for another tat?”

  “Tempting, but no, I’m good, and the family is fine.” Leaning towards me. “We went to high school together. Snake has tattooed my bothers as well.”

  “And you?” His gaze focused on me. “Sorry, no tats.”

  “A virgin.” I see him grab a photo album and quickly turn to the page he searched for.

  “Army?”

  He questions, but his gaze never leaves his book, turning each page with great effort.

  “Special Forces.” I answer.

  “Now, this is you.” Handing me the photo album, his finger pressed on the one he chooses for me. It was an American flag curled, as if blowing in the wind with the special forces badge displayed on top of an eagle, it was all muted in color apart from the red, white and blue flag. It spoke to me as if a story of my past was depicted in an image fueled with strength and power.

  “I would place it right here.” Snake placed his hand over his upper arm right below the shoulder.” He smirks an all-knowing expression. “I’ll make you a fair deal since you’re a friend of my buddy here, Cyrus.”

  A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Why not?”

  “Sir?” Cyrus stands. “You can think about it, come back later.”

  “Why? I just need to ask you a few questions first, Snake.” And handed him the two images. “Is that your work?”

  “No, not my work, but look here, reaching for a magnifying glass, see the water fall marking here? That’s Crow’s work, he did this.”

>   “Crow huh?” Adrenalin starts to pump, finally a lead. “And where can I find Crow?”

  “Crow is like a ghost, man, he floats from place to place.” Figures. “Cyrus, continue the list discreetly gather any leads concerning Crow, and pick me up here in an hour or so.” There was still a chance.

  “Better make it three.” Snake corrected, and that was the first inkling of panic that settled just beneath the surface. My rigid body was pressed into his dentist style chair.

  “Now let’s get one thing straight, this is going to hurt like a Mother Fucker.” Snake warns, I answer with a tense smile. As he went through the steps, prepping my skin, his sanitized tools all lined up with the image in sight. The buzzing noise starts, as the first sign of pressure touches my skin.

  My eyes slid shut and winced as nerve endings fought against the pain. My jaw hardened as my stomach twisted tighter. I was a pussy, I thanked the Gods that Flynn or Cyrus weren’t here to witness this pathetic display of virility. I swallowed against the pain. Then an eerie calm melted over me, accepting the pain. Reclaiming my man hood.

  I was handed after care instructions as I noticed Cyrus approach. “It’s standard procedure.” Snake says.

  “Looks goods sir, I hope it was worth it.” But for some reason the pain barely registered. I handed my credit card and he rang up five hundred dollars as sticker shock was written all over my price.

  “All good.” Cyrus expression looked as if he wasn’t so sure. “What’d you find out?”

  “Tattoo Paradise, the guy was shady and once I showed him the tat he got nervous real fast.”

  “He knows something.”

  “That’s what I thought, in fact the entire staff disappeared once I started asking questions.”

  “Okay, good job. I don’t want Crow to run so let’s take a step back, a lower profile and see what we can find back in the office.”

  Evil comes in many forms, and if believing he tattooed Grace, he had to know her perpetrator, that’s makes him just as guilty in my book. Deep down, I knew we just got out first big break.

  I tap ignore on my phone as it quietly vibrates with Steel’s name flashing on my screen. This impromptu meeting with the deputy director caught me by surprise, and anyone who knows me, I hated surprises, I like to be well prepared both mentally and physically. I would have impressed him with reports, running through schematics. But sadly no, this was not the meeting I anticipated.

  I didn’t get the promotion, and I know why.

  “This is a tough profession.” Andrew Quentin repeats, as his gaze continually cast an eye over my features, slipping to my breast for long seconds making my skin crawl. Whirling with speculation, hope crashes and burns and not on merit, not because I’m a woman specifically, but because he wants something from me, and I don’t play that game. The gravity of the situation nearly destroys my convictions, to know that I was seen as a bargaining chip, not as a highly trained associate an equal, infuriates me.

  “I’m a seasoned agent, sir.” I sat a little higher, my spine stiff with contempt. “My record speaks for itself.”

  “And so it does.”

  I normally roll with the punches, but this was something else entirely.

  “Let’s discuss this further over dinner, shall we?” I only wished things were different, I knew I was putting everything on the line by denying him, but I’m not for sale, that’s nonnegotiable.

  “My apologies sir, but I have plans with my boyfriend.” I say flat out. His slight frown didn’t escape me. “You met him sir, GWOT, Special Ops, Ex-Army.”

  “And so I have, Agent Lancaster.” The room drops several degrees, as the tides begin to turn. No, I wouldn’t get my promotion, but I keep my pride and self-worth in place.

  “Anything else?” I stand, not waiting for his dismissal. And cross the floor turn down the long hallway to my office on the end. I fall into my seat and let out a solid frustrated sigh. Fuck him. I try to calm my roaring pulse, but there was no getting over what just happened.

  A jiggle of my mouse as my computer springs to life, the Federal Bureau of Investigation lit up the screen. Purely out of disappointment I search for new positions coming up. But, nothing stands out, I trained specifically for Counter Terrorism Division, that’s what I wanted. And I wouldn’t have to relocate. I loved this region of the country, with its winding rivers in Truckee to the great lake Tahoe, and the Sierra mountains.

  I’d have to find another way around Andrew Quentin, and his slippery methods of persuasion. No, this dream doesn’t die here today, not when I know it’s rightfully mine.

  My phone vibrates, and I’m suddenly reminded of Steels call, anxious to talk with him. But my thoughts are distinguished as I see the words mother displayed. “No…Not today.” Does every adult child cringe over the thought of sparing with their parents? Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m a bad daughter.

  “Hi Mom.”

  “Busy Darling?”

  “Yeah, I’m working, what can I do for you?” I lean back in my leather office chair and proceed to twirl my hair around my finger, diverted inward as if a child.

  “It’s Will.” She sighs, weariness lingering as if whatever he’s recently done is a shock. “He’s gotten himself in a bit of trouble.”

  No surprise there. “What’s he done now?”

  “Oh, Will and a group of fellows found themselves in the old theater downtown in Branson, it was under construction and the boys slipped in and spray painted some political statements and such. Did some minor damage.”

  “So, Breaking and entering, destruction of personal property. Are they filing charges?”

  “No dear, not as long as they paint over the damage, which they’ve already completed.”

  ‘Oh, well, good.”

  “Your Father and I were thinking.” Oh fuck, here it comes. “We thought it might be good for him if he spent the Holidays with you dear, being such a good influence and all.”

  I laugh at my Mothers suggestion, as if he ever listened to me. Will, he’s a skirt chasing man-whore. I’ll lose him at the airport, and he’ll never be the wiser. Will’s pretty in every sense of the word, not rugged with callused hands like my two other brothers. He’s Superman pretty, down to the single curl resting on his forehead. He’s gotten away with murder, relying on those good looks. And without fail, it’s always worked.

  “Mom, I’m never home, my job has me traveling. lie and I met someone. I don’t have time to tough-love Will and force him to grow up and act his age.” I can just picture her, pacing, patting the back of her hair in anxiety. “Mom he’s older than I am, he won’t listen to anything I say.”

  “Oh honey, he will listen, he wants to change he told me he did, he’s wants to visit.”

  Sure he does, to party and drag my good name through the mud. ”I don’t know mom.”

  “Oh Nickie, please. I have saved flyer miles for this weekend, it won’t cost a thing. I’ll make sure he has some cash and make him promise to listen to you.”

  “Sounds like it’s already set, mom.” Damn you, Will. “Send me his itinerary.”

  “Thank you, sweet heart, now you won’t be alone over the holidays.”

  “Who said I was going to be alone? Boyfriend, Mom.”

  “That’s right, you can tell me all about him.” A sigh slips.

  “Some other time, I’m working. I’ll pick Will up at the airport, please send me his itinerary.”

  I ended the call, and tried to calm my frayed nerves. Even entertaining the idea caused anxiety. I drew in a calming breath pushing the aggravation away and dialed the one man who I allowed myself to lean on.

  “You must have been busy, I called several times.”

  “I was, but I’m free now.” Even his words calm my churning thoughts. “Charlies?”

  “Love too, what time?

  “As soon as possible.”

  “An hour?

  “Thanks.” Ending the call feeling a slice of relief flow over me.

  L
iquid courage, quenching my thirst as I sit in the back booth watching, waiting for him to walk through the door. And he doesn’t disappoint, the door opens as he scans the room. His gray-blue eyes focused solely on me, his smile is slow and sexy, as he eats up the floor in seconds. He flags the waitress by holding one finger up gesturing for a beer, as I nurse mine.

  “You started without me, bad day?” He sits beside me, in the booth his arm falls on my shoulder as he pulls me in. His surprising gesture was a welcome relief. His free hand registers on my features as his palm cradles my cheek forcing our gaze to crash and lock. He looks from my eyes to my lips and without warning, his mouth finds mine in a blistering kiss, and X-rated kiss his tongue searching then finding mine. His fingers sliding in my hair at the base of my neck, changing angles as his tenderness slows and gently parts, as he comes up for air. “Miss me?” A slow and sexy curve of his lips appear. God, the man could kiss.

  He whispers deep sexy promises in my ear as his breath causes my skin to tingle then burn with crazy need. “I missed many parts of you.” His moan against my ear was teetering with my sanity. All on display as the waitress casually sits his beer on the wooden table, and scurries away.

  I rest my hand on his leg, the faded jeans stretched tightly over his muscled thighs. His white button-down shirt, rolled up sleeves revealing tan forearms that scream sex appeal. I’m playing right into his hands, and he knows it.

  “We moved Grace, it’s what needed to be done. She’s staying with Flynn and I’ve contacted Dr. Grant, you know Eden’s husband.”

  “It makes sense, if there’s a threat Flynn is more than capable.”

  “I agree, we weren’t getting anywhere at New Beginnings, anyway.” Seeming genuinely upset. “Hungry?”

  “Starving. But, unfortunately I don’t have much time.” I pull my hand away, so I could shift my focus.

  “What’s so urgent?” He asks casually, his beer in hand taking a long pull.