Chapter 20
twenty
Harper
LIGHTERS AND UNWANTED GOODBYES.
I did try to get some rest. After I’d called a ride to take me home, I’d showered again, wetting all the dressings over the scrapes that Bull had tended to. But I didn’t care.
I still felt his hands on me. His breath. The filth of the alley. I could still smell the dumpster. No matter how much I scrubbed at my skin, I couldn’t get rid of him from my senses.
Then I was dressed in my own clothes, in my sheets, in a bed no one but me had ever slept in.
I was so tired.
I couldn’t sleep.
I’d silenced my watch. There was no beeping to tell me what to do. But the habits lived under my skin. The alarms blared in my mind.
All I could think about was what I should be doing, and what was done.
Had Coyote hidden the body? Where? It was probably better that I didn’t know.
What if someone found it?
Maybe I’d fucked this up even further. Maybe if I’d just gone to the police and told them what had happened, I could prove it was self-defense.
There would be a scandal, but if someone found the body now, after I’d tried to cover it up?
There was no way to make that look innocent.
A scandal would be the least of our worries.
Nausea made the room spin. Or maybe it was a side effect from the medication, or a result of my head being smashed against a wall. Bull had checked for a concussion, but maybe he wasn’t a good doctor. Good doctors didn’t usually take patients in a repurposed room connected to their home kitchen.
Benny.
While everything spiraled, and new potential problems flashed through my mind, I still kept coming back to Benny.
How long had he stayed at the club after I’d left him? I hadn’t checked if he’d messaged me. I couldn’t bring myself to.
If I hadn’t left him, none of this would have happened.
Maybe it was karma on me for hurting Benny—and Tristan, for hurting Logan.
Logan.
When? How many times? Did it have something to do with why Logan left?
I was rethinking everything. Every memory of our yearly trips. Every time Logan wouldn’t let me hang out with him and Tristan. I’d thought he was keeping me away from them. But what if he wasn’t? What if Logan was keeping Tristan away from me?
They were always together.
I scanned every memory, seeking a time that Logan was actually happy during those trips. I couldn’t find one. I’d thought he was annoyed at me for wanting to be with them. Maybe he was tense for a different reason.
I should have noticed.
I should have helped him.
Selfish.
I turned in bed. My shoulder throbbed. My hip ached.
His hands were still on me.
I pulled the covers off and got dressed in clothing that pressed and itched in all the wrong places.
And I went to work.
The lobby and bottom floors of Lorens Industries were busier on a Saturday, with members of the public shopping or scoping out the latest products, but it was much quieter in the offices and labs.
Only workaholics or those with projects on tight deadlines were here.
My father was probably here.
With any luck, I wouldn’t have to see him.
I’d taken more painkillers than recommended, and they allowed me to force myself to walk almost normally.
I made my way to the labs first, determined to sort out what Coyote had asked me for so I could stop feeling like he had something over me. Putting a tracker in a lighter was worth significantly less than burying a body, but it was a starting point.
The hardware and prototyping labs were always at least a little chaotic.
Work benches were equipped with soldering stations, oscilloscopes, and various other devices I had no reason to know the purposes of.
Projects and half-assembled devices at multiple stages of completion lived in sealed and barcoded storage trays, and 3D printers hummed from dedicated bays.
It was quiet enough that I thought maybe no one was around, but then I heard humming from a station toward the back.
A woman was hunched over the bench, frizzy brown hair tied in a messy bun with three pens stabbed through it. She hummed to herself loudly enough that she didn’t hear me approaching until I was right behind her.
“Christ!” She jumped, holding her hand over her chest. “Ya almost gave me a heart attack.” She laughed. “Sorry, Mr. Lorens, what can I do for you?”
Her Boston accent and deep brown eyes reminded me of someone I couldn’t afford to think about right now.
“Just Harper is fine.” I hated being called Mr. Lorens. That was how my father liked to be addressed. I pulled the lighter from my pocket. “I need a tracker put in this.”
She took it from me, opening it up and closing it again as she examined it. “Does it need to be functional as a lighter still?”
Coyote hadn’t specified. “If possible.”
She made a pensive noise. “We could use one of the old prototypes from Project Echo-12. Nixed due to battery life, but still functional and app compatible.”
“How long would it last?”
She scratched her head with a pen as she thought. “Couple months either side of a year… most likely.”
I nodded. “How long would it take you?”
A fourth pen was nested into the messy bun as she pulled a tray of tools closer to her. “Couple of hours. I’ll start now.”
“Good. Thanks.” I turned to leave.
“Oh, umm, Harper?”
“Yes?”
“Is this… official?”
I’d never asked the labs for anything that wasn’t directly related to the company. My heart thumped louder in my chest, like it was trying to warn me against proceeding. “No.”
“So… don’t make any notes of it, then? Off the books?”
I swallowed. She could report this to my father. She should report this to my father. “That’s right.”
Her eyes locked onto mine for a long moment, her thoughts unreadable before she turned back to her station. “Alright.”
I exhaled.
In the time I spent working from my office over the next few hours, the pain steadily worsened. The painkillers were wearing off. My chair was uncomfortable. My clothes were uncomfortable. Existing within my own skin was uncomfortable.
But I had plenty to do, and I’d rather be here than back at my apartment, where it was far too silent and my thoughts were so much louder.
In the late afternoon, I made my way back down to the labs.
The engineer I’d left the lighter with was thankfully still the only one here.
“Mr. Lo—Harper.” She smiled.
“How did it go?”
She shoved her pen into her bun and pulled open the drawer under her desk to retrieve the lighter.
It looked exactly the same as when I’d left it with her. She also handed me a card with the details needed to pair the tracker with Lorens Industries’ secure app. I was familiar with the details of the prototype at a high level, but she ran me through the basics anyway.
“Thank you. I’ll… I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time,” I told her as I pocketed the lighter and card.
“What…” I couldn’t be expected to know all the employees’ names who worked for Lorens Industries, but I still had a stab of guilt for not being able to recall hers when she’d been so helpful. “What was your name again?”
She didn’t seem offended. “Rachel.”
“Rachel,” I smiled.
“Forrester.”
I sucked in a breath so fast that I choked on it. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “What name did you say?”
“Rachel Forrester,” she answered, confusion and concern in her deep brown eyes.
“Forrester,” I repeated. “You, umm…” My mouth had completely dried up. “You aren’t related to that MMA Forrester guy, are you?”
Light sparked in her eyes. “Benny! Yes, he’s my baby bro. Do you know him?”
I shook my head quickly, unable to pull in a breath.
“Are you alright?”
I nodded. “Mmhmm. Fine. Good. I have to go. Thank you again, Rachel.”
I was on my way out the door before she could say anything further.
Into the elevator.
Up to my office.
I closed and locked the door.
Can’t breathe. Can’t escape him.
Karma had decided I’d not been punished enough. I was haunted by someone still breathing. Maybe I always would be.
Pain echoed up my body as I slumped against the door, letting it slow my descent until I was on the ground, burying my head in my arms and knees, crying again.
I was so weak. So tired.
This was too much for me.
Just hearing his last name was enough to set me off.
Pathetic.
When I’d managed to calm down again, I got myself up and carried on.
There was no other option.
I tried calling Coyote about the lighter, but the calls went straight to voicemail. I hoped him having his phone off wasn’t a bad sign for me.
Back in my cold, silent apartment, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Hope and dread warred with each other. It was probably just Coyote.
Relief and disappointment combined when I saw there was a notification. It wasn’t from Benny, but it wasn’t from Coyote either.
Cupid
Strayz assemble! Meeting at Dexys!!! [pink sparkle heart emoji]
I sighed, putting my phone on the counter without bothering to respond. No one actually expected me to be there.
After a scalding hot shower that both soothed and stung, I found the loosest fitting clothing I had to wear. I thought of Cupid wearing the oversized sweater that definitely did not belong to him. How big would Benny’s clothes have been on me?
I’d never know.
My stomach twisted, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.
There was undoubtedly food in the kitchen. Matthew would have made sure of it.
Maybe tomorrow, I’d feel up to eating.
My phone buzzed on the marble countertop, and I wondered how long my chest would tighten at the sound.
Wolf
Meet me.
I was too tired and injured to be riding, but at least the pain kept me awake as I headed out of Harborview to meet Archer at our spot.
He was already there, pacing back and forth as I pulled up.
I’d intended to be mad at him for not answering his damn phone last night, but when I pulled off my helmet and saw how pale he was, even in the fading sunlight, concern took over my rage.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m leaving,” he answered.
“Leaving? Why?”