“Help?Is that what you wanted me to get when you wrote your letter?”Nathan rubbed his hands up and down his arms as he stared at her.“Do you want to know what kind ofhelpyou get in prison?’Cause I can tell you what kind ofhelpyou have to give and take in there.”
“Don’t do this, please, Nathan.”Harper tried to tamp down the panic, override the adrenaline causing her heart to race.She closed her eyes and focused on words from one of her first sessions with Frankie…a place of control, not a place of fear.
She looked for something sharp she could lean against to cut the tape binding her hands.A rusted chair frame sat up against the wall only inches away, the leg bent and broken.
Silently, she waited until Nathan was pacing away from her and then shuffled the short distance toward the chair.He was too far gone to notice.If she could get her arms free, she had options.Possibly the phone, or at least a chance to run.Even fight if she had to.He may have been able to destroy her last time, but he wouldn’t get the chance again.
***
“Frankie, how’s it going?”Trent lifted a finger to Dred and mouthed, “Sorry.”He didn’t usually answer his phone when working on a client but Harper had said she would ring from there.
There was a long pause and the piercing sound of a child crying.“Hey man, there’s a problem.”Frankie’s voice was panicked.The usually cool and collected fighter was distraught.“The guy Harper was running from, Nathan, I think he got her.”
“What the—what do you mean?”Trent jumped up out of his stool, rubbing the back of his gloved hand across his forehead.
“Anton just ran into the gym, shouting about a guy grabbing Harper.He made her get into a van.Harper called him Nathan.”
Trent kicked the stool he had been sitting on and sent it crashing across the studio floor.
“Did he hurt her?Did you call the police?”he asked, aware of the studio grinding to a halt around him.Dred had stood, and Cujo had come over, putting a hand on his shoulder.Fortunately the studio was close to closing and Dred was the only client still getting inked.
“Yeah, they’re on their way here.”Trent could hear Anton’s sobs in the background and heard Frankie mumble words of comfort.“I’m sorry, man, but Anton said Nathan was acting all crazy and was packin’ a large knife.”
“Had he hurt her?When Anton saw them leave, was she still… was she…?”
“She wasn’t hurt when she got in the van.”
Trent wasn’t certain his legs would continue to hold him.He put his arm out and leaned forward, the tattoo chair taking his weight.He’d be able to think clearly if the fucking spinning in his head would just stop.Images of Harper with a blade to her throat skittered through his mind making it hard to focus.
“Trent, you still there, man?”
“Yeah, I’m here, which way did he take her?Did Anton see?”
“No, he just started running as soon as Nathan got in the van.But Harper is smart; she still had Anton’s schoolbag.I installed a GPS app on Anton’s phone.It shows the phone is over by that abandoned strip on the way to Veterans Park.Units are on their way over there.”
“On my way, call me if it moves.”
Trent ran into the back and grabbed his jacket and keys from the office, relieved to find himself flanked by Cujo and Dred as he made for the back door.Not that he would need their help destroying that motherfucker.
Cujo grabbed the keys from his hand.
“Cuj, I don’t have time for this, give me the keys.”
“No can do, brother.You aren’t in any fit state to drive.Get in or I’ll go without you.”
“Cujo, give me the fucking keys.”Cujo got in the car and started the engine, the Plymouth’s engine revving loudly.
Trent felt a shove from behind.
“Get in the car, Trent,” Dred said, pushing him toward the door.With no further time to argue, he climbed in and Dred followed, the three of them crammed onto the bench seat.
“North on Collins, up toward Veterans Park.”
Cujo careened out of the Second Circle parking lot and Trent leaned forward, head in both hands.
“She’s gonna be fine,” Cujo said as he fired the Plymouth through Miami.
Trent hoped with all his heart that Cujo was right.
