“Argh. You bitch,” he cried out, rolling off her to hold his nose. Harper got to her feet. As she ran toward the street, she heard the screaming siren of a police car.
The fence shook as she started to swing through the gap. She was so close to the street. A hand grabbed her arm, pulling her back, and Harper felt the blade swipe her shoulder. Not deep, but enough to bring back that sickening feeling of how four years ago her skin had simply opened up and let the sharp steel in.
The pain brought tears to her eyes. How could she be this close to getting away, only for him to get her again? She twisted away from him, narrowly missing the sharp jab Nathan aimed at her, feeling relief as it scratched by. The sirens were getting louder. They had to be coming for her. Her salvation wrapped up in blue-and-red flashing lights.
“I’m not going to let you do this to me again, Nathan,” she strained through gritted teeth.
If this was the end, she wasn’t going down without a fight. Not this time.
“I’m not going to be your victim again.” Lifting up her knee, she nailed Nathan hard in the groin, causing him to double over in pain. He tried to bring the knife around to cut her leg, but she deflected it with a kick before bringing her foot down hard on his arch.
“Fuck!” he yelled, and doubled over.
She brought her knee up hard against his already bloodied nose. She could feel his bone crunch against her kneecap.
With a loud groan he fell to his knees.
Flashing lights pulled up alongside the fence, and two police officers jumped out, already drawing their weapons.
“Down on the ground. Down on the ground,” she heard someone yell. Did they mean her?
She looked around and saw the two officers approach Nathan, guns unholstered, pointing them directly at him.
“You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.” Harper wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, shivering despite the humid air. She listened to the police officer recite the rest of Nathan’s Miranda rights.
“Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?”
“Fuck you and fuck that stupid bitch over there.” Nathan spat as he struggled against the officer placing cuffs on his wrists.
Harper let herself be moved out of the way. Lights flickered in her peripheral vision. Starting to sway, she grabbed for the links of the fence. She touched her shoulder. She pulled her hand away and found it covered in blood.
“Harper.”
Trent? Christ, now she was hearing things, the swaying getting worse. Her head was pounding. She closed her eyes.
“Harper, thank God.” She was being pulled into strong arms.
“Trent,” she whispered and gave herself over to the darkness.
* * *
The paramedic worked furiously to stabilize Harper and assess the extent of her injuries. Blood continued to pour from the knife wound on her shoulder, the white gauze the paramedic held firmly pressed against it quickly turning red.
Trent pulled out his phone and called Drea.
“Hey Trent, what’s up?”
“Drea, he found her. Nathan found Harper. We’re on our way to the hospital. Can you meet us there?” Trent flinched at the short sob from Drea.
“I’m on my way. How is she? Tell her I love her.”
“The paramedics are doing their best. Find Cujo when you get there, sweetheart.”
Hanging up the phone, he sat back in the tiny passenger seat of the ambulance and watched the beeping equipment tracking Harper’s vitals. There was nothing left to do but pray she was going to be okay.
“Reid?” she murmured.
Leaning forward, he took hold of her hand, squeezing it firmly between his. It looked so small, felt so cold in his.
“Reid isn’t here, baby. I’m not going to leave you alone for a second,” he reassured her. The paramedic was holding the gauze tight against the biggest wound on her shoulder. He reached forward and stroked her hair off her cheek. “I love you, darlin’.” His voice cracked. “Don’t get any stupid ideas about leaving me.”
What felt like hours later, Trent leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the yellowed ceiling tiles. Sitting up straight, he dragged his hands through his hair before slouching back over, elbows resting on his knees. He spun the ring on his thumb around and around.
“She’s going to be fine, dude.” Cujo sat on the floor across for him. “The nurse already told you you’ll get to see her in a few minutes.”
Pulling up to the curb and seeing Nathan being dragged away from Harper had ripped away his last ounce of control. It had taken both Dred and Cujo to hold him back from lunging at the guy and tearing his face off with his hands.
“I called the rest of the guys,” Cujo said. “Figured you’d want them to know she was okay.”
The ride to the hospital with her in the ambulance had yanked out his very soul. There had been so much blood coming out of the person he loved more than anyone else in the world. It had practically paralyzed him.
Dred reappeared with coffee, handing one to Trent before sliding down onto the floor next to Cujo.
“Cops are here, man, with a couple of guys in suits. Hooked them up with my security guys. They’ll stall them for a little while, but you’re going to need to deal with them eventually.”
“I don’t give a shit who you think she can see. I am her best friend. Let me in there.” Drea’s protest carried down the hallway.
Cujo stood up, smoothing down the legs of his jeans. He took a deep breath, and creaked his neck from left to right. “I’ll go get the feisty one,” he said, flipping his head in the direction of Drea’s raised voice. Trent watched him walk toward the argument brewing at the nurses’ station.
“Mr. Andrews?” A young doctor in blue scrubs held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Yeung. I’ve been looking after Harper.” They all stood.
“How is she?”
Cujo reappeared with his arm around Drea. Her tearstained face was more than he could bear. They joined him in front of the doctor and Drea reached out her hand to grasp Trent’s.
“Harper’s doing great. Her CT scan came back fine, but she has a nasty concussion. We’ve stitched the wound on the top of her shoulder. It was deep, but thankfully missed anything vital. The rest are more superficial, and we’ve been able to either butterfly stitch them or just bandage them. We’ve given her a tetanus and cleaned out the cut on her wrist. She’s on a morphine drip for the pain and a strong antibiotic to prevent infection.”
Trent’s shoulders sagged in relief, and Cujo’s arm went around him, holding him up. Relief threatened to bring Trent to his knees.
“Can I see her?” He rubbed his hands over his face.
“Absolutely. She can go home tomorrow but needs rest. She needs to keep that shoulder still. I’ll take you to her and then swing by with some care instructions.”
Harper was chewing on the side of her thumbnail, looking absently out of the small window when he walked into her room. Her skin was pale and dark circles ringed her eyes. Trent rushed over to her bed, sitting down gently on the side.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said softly, taking her hands in his, kissing each knuckle softly before kissing the center of her palm. “You scared the crap out of me.”
* * *
“Trent,” Harper choked, “Is … Is Anton okay?” Her voice was hoarse, reminding her of the red marks that the doctor had told her covered the outside of her throat.
“He’s fine, Harper. A bit shook up—he’s a hero. Ran straight to Frankie’s. Gave the police all kinds of details.” Trent squeezed her hand hard. “Christ, Harper, when Frankie called and told me Nathan had abducted … abducted…” The word stuck, and Harper’s resolve not to cry wavered as tears filled Trent’s eyes. He dropped his head gently onto Harper’s stomach and wrapped his arms around her, softly, and she was filled with gratitude that she was still here with him.
“I’m fine, Trent,” she soothed, running her fingers through his hair. “I
was scared shitless, but I had something to live for.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner. I love you, sweetheart. More than you can possibly know.”
“I know, baby,” she cried, finally letting go in front of him. “I love you, too.”
When her tears turned into full-blown sobs, Trent gathered her gently into his arms so they could comfort each other.
Harper settled in Trent’s embrace, secure in the knowledge she was safe and alive. The pain in her shoulder was easing—thank heavens for great medication. Thoughts of another trial caused her stomach to flip. She needed to call Lydia, probably soon if she wanted to get ahead of Nathan’s father’s machinations. And her parents. How was she going to explain to them what had been going on or why she hadn’t told them?
The police were going to want her statement soon, but she needed this moment with Trent. There were too many thoughts rushing through her head and she needed some time to process everything that had just happened.
“If he doesn’t come out soon and tell us what’s going on, I am going in there.” A rush of relief flooded Harper at the sound of Drea in the hallway.
“As much as you think she loves you, shortcake, she loves him a bit more. Give them a minute.”
Trent laughed. Harper opened her eyes and looked at him. “My money is on Drea,” she whispered.
“Can you get your stupid frigging arms off me?”
Drea and Cujo burst through the door. Cujo’s arms were wrapped tightly around Drea’s middle, and the angle she was bending his fingers back to release his grip had to hurt.
“I tried to stop her but it’s like getting a feral cat into a shoe box.” Cujo let out a grunt and let Drea go. Harper looked from Cujo to Drea, desperate to bury the laugh she could feel brewing.
The bed shook as Drea sat down. She grabbed Harper’s hand and leaned over to gently hug her. “Oh my God, Harper. Am I glad to see you.”
Harper winced slightly at the pull on her shoulder and Drea released her immediately. “Oh no, sorry, Harp. I just…” Drea’s eyes started to fill with tears.
Cujo placed a hand on Drea’s shoulder, the other on the top of the hospital gurney. “Hey there, Bruce Lee. Remind me not to mess with you.” He kissed the top of Harper’s head. “You scared me, in a hot kind of way,” he whispered.
“Quit hitting on my girl, dude,” Trent said with a short laugh before pushing Cujo’s arm off the gurney.
“Bit of an extreme way to go about getting extra attention, honey bee.” Lia offered a wry smile as she walked into the room with Pixie and Dred. She dropped a vintage cream suitcase and matching makeup case next to the bed. “There’s a silk kimono wrap in there, which is way sexier than that horrible blue tarpaulin you’re wearing right now.”
“Thanks,” Harper said, the words seeming woefully inadequate. The idea of changing out of the scratchy hospital gown was heaven.
“Yeah, well, the number of people who have ever seen me without makeup has just quintupled, so you owe me,” Lia said as she sat down on the end of the bed. She looked so much younger, her face scrubbed clean of the winged eyeliner and red lipstick she usually wore.
Pixie smacked Trent’s hand to loosen the grip he had on Harper’s, forging a way to her down the other side of the bed. Her eyes were red rimmed. “Holy…” Pixie blew out a short breath and squeezed Harper’s arm. “You scared us,” she said before turning and smacking Trent across the top of the head.
“Ow.” Trent scowled. “What the hell did I do?”
“Squealed out of the parking lot like an extra from Bullitt.” Harper had vague recollections of Trent picking her up once the police had arrived. How had he gotten there? How had he known where she was? She couldn’t even begin to think through how scared Trent must have been.
“That wasn’t me,” Trent said in an injured tone. “Cujo drove.”
Harper let her head fall back and the plastic liner inside the white, starched pillowcase rustled. She could feel her eyes getting heavy as her friends continued their banter around her.
“We should split, let Harper get some rest,” Dred said from the foot of the bed. He gave her the slightest of nods.
What had happened to bring this amazing group of friends to her life? Harper was humbled. Each of them gave her once last kiss or hug, offered words of encouragement until there was only Trent left.
“You should go home and get some sleep,” Harper said drowsily, letting the pain medication help take her under.
Trent stood up, lowered the head of the gurney, and lifted Harper’s head to fluff the pillow before gently lowering her back down.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Harper said, refusing to acknowledge the fear she suddenly felt at being left alone. The light went off in the room and Harper’s heart started to race. She needed the light on.
The mattress sagged as Trent sat down on the side of the bed. She felt him lean forward and heard him kick off his shoes. He pulled his legs up onto the single gurney and lay down on his side, carefully putting his arm around her. The warmth of his breath behind her ear, the sweetness of his lips against her skin eased the pressure she’d felt building inside.
“Yeah, you will, darlin’. I’ll be right here.”
Epilogue
Three months later
Harper stood on the deck of their perfect hut above the turquoise-blue waters of the South Pacific Ocean. Green mountains surrounded the bay of their hotel, a lush backdrop for the vacation they had started the previous evening. The sun was slowly rousing itself from sleep, and not a single soul could be seen anywhere around the resort.
For the first time in four years, she’d traveled as Taylor Kennedy. It felt strange to be called Taylor. The name belonged to a person and a life that was no longer hers. She was going to legally change her name to Harper. Harper Andrews, to be precise, when Trent made good on his promise to make her his wife.
She looked down at the spectacular engagement ring that Trent had put on her finger yesterday just before they’d left their apartment for their flight. The beautiful round stone was surrounded by twelve smaller diamonds that threw off rainbow-colored stars when it caught the sun. He’d designed the ring just for her, the twelve stones matching the XII on his arm.
Rolling her shoulders back, Harper gave silent thanks that no permanent damage had been done. The wound in her shoulder had long since healed, and the scar was small. Harper had embraced the whole experience as one giant closure on the last four years. Nathan was back in prison awaiting his new trial date, his bail request denied. This time she would have the courage to face him unflinchingly in court, her new husband by her side.
Husband. Just the word made her smile. When they got back, she’d have a wedding to plan. And an engagement party to attend. Both Drea and Cujo had wanted to organize the party for them—and had even agreed to work together to make it happen. What Harper wouldn’t give to be a fly on that wall. She gave it five minutes before they started to kill each other.
Their idyllic, ten-day vacation was the perfect respite in the middle of Trent’s filming schedule storm. The producers were really excited about the reception the show was receiving from test audiences. He had completed filming in four cities across the Midwestern and Northeastern states. He’d even had dinner with her parents when they’d recorded in Chicago, sending her a photo of him, Dred, and her mom, outside her favorite pizzeria.
Hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. “Morning, darlin’,” came Trent’s voice, gravelly and deep from sleep as he rubbed his nose behind her ear before kissing the side of her neck.
“Hey.” She smiled as he nipped her softly.
“What’s got you out of bed so early? I didn’t fly halfway around the world in a metal bucket to wake up alone in paradise.” He reached for her hair and tugged it gently to the side, causing her to shiver.
“It’s so beautiful and quiet. I didn’t want to miss a minute.”
They stood together, his a
rms around her middle, her arms over the top of his, as they watched the ripples sparkle in the water as far as the eye could see.
“I have a really good idea,” Trent whispered huskily. His hands went to the front of the short, black silk robe she had thrown on and started to untie the sash holding it together.
“Mmm,” she murmured as he pulled the two lengths of silk apart. “And what would your great idea be?”
Trent slid his hands inside the robe and pulled her back tightly against him. Harper laughed in appreciation as she felt his erection press against her lower back.
Sliding his hands up to cup her breasts, he stopped. “What are you wearing, Harper?” Now he sounded awake. Harper grinned.
He turned her around and pushed the robe off her shoulders.
His jaw slackened and his eyes darkened as he took in the tiny black-and-white polka-dot bikini.
“Jesus Christ, woman.” His eyes dropped down and back up.
Bending forward, he picked her up in a fireman’s lift and dropped her over his shoulder.
“You have great taste,” Harper giggled as he carried her back to their bed.
Sometimes you can’t fight love.
Don’t miss Drea and Cujo’s story
January 2016
@ItsScarlettCole
scarlettcole.com
About the Author
Born in England, SCARLETT COLE traveled the world for business and pleasure, living in the United States before settling in Canada where she met her own personal hero. Now a proud Canadian and British citizen, home is wherever her husband and two children are. When she isn’t writing, Scarlett can be found working out to offset a legendary candy habit, searching for the perfect pair of shoes, and promising her family that she will get around to cooking dinner in a minute. You can sign up for email updates here.
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