The Attraction

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

HARPER

Y esterday was tough.

After my session with Cherie, I went to a bar and just sat on my own with a glass of scotch. Well, me and my security guard nearby. I just needed time to sit with all the emotions that had been dragged to the surface.

It’s crazy to think that one session with her made me talk about deeper feelings than any therapist did when it all happened. But maybe I just wasn’t ready back then. Or I didn’t have as big a reason as I do now to finally let it go and heal. Which is sad really, that I didn’t want to heal enough for just myself, but now I’m letting some woman beat the hell out of me so I can become the woman I want to be for Forrest.

Sipping on the last of the amber fluid in the glass, I know this will take time, but I feel hopeful.

Holding my phone in my hand, the constant itch to message Forrest is there, but it’s like I’m testing my willpower by not doing it.

Instead, I open up my photo app and start to scroll through my camera roll of all the pictures from last weekend in St. Tropez. I don’t even realize that I’m grinning so hard. So many photos of us girls, shopping, drinking, and laughing until it hurts. Of course, there are ones of the guys playing volleyball, and Forrest might be the absolute hottest guy on the planet, but the other three aren’t far behind him, and I’m not afraid to admit that.

But my favorite photo is the one I snapped at the cooking class of Forrest plating his dish up and laughing with Flynn over the competition on who had cooked the best dish. He is in his happy place and finally starting to let his brother get to know him on a deeper level. Part of me is proud of myself because I did that. Pushing him to let me see the real him, and then encouraging him to share that man with his family and friends.

Putting my phone away, I wonder what he is up to now. Probably in his office working, trying to distract himself from how frustrated he is with me. Same, Forrest, I’m frustrated with me too.

Messaging for my car to be brought to the valet, I stand and walk to the front door of the bar with my shadow man in black behind me, and I just feel soulless. Yet I’ve lived with this hollow feeling all my adult life, but it took a grumpy, arrogant man to make me want more.

Sitting in the back seat on the drive to Flynn and Felisha’s apartment, I’m hoping that I gave them plenty of time on their own tonight. Flynn was in a terrible mood this morning. Not talking, it was more of a grunt, and he couldn’t look me in the eye. I never thought he was like his brother, but this morning, I could have sworn it was Forrest in the kitchen the way he was grumbling to himself.

The closer I get to the apartment, my phone vibrates in my hand, because I can’t seem to put it down at the moment, just in case I miss a special message. But it is just Felisha letting me know that they’re heading to bed and she would see me in the morning. Thank God she didn’t ask how the night with Amanda went because then I didn’t have to lie to her again.

I go through my normal night routine and snuggle into bed, trying to take my mind off what is to come in my sleep. Maybe something shifted today in my session with Cherie. I can only hope. Waking this morning, I knew it had been a hard night in my dreams by how I felt, but neither Felisha nor Flynn said anything about it, so I might have been lucky that it was a minor one or that their bedroom is far enough away that they didn’t hear me crying or calling out.

Cherie set me up with a meditation calming app tonight that she wants me to listen to as I fall asleep. Let’s hope that it works, because I could really do with some solid rest. My body is a little sore, even though I had padding on, and I can still feel all the hits. I didn’t think I would like it, but surprisingly, the physicality of the session helped with my endorphins in a good way, and I felt energized when I left.

The tranquil sound of the ocean in my ears on the mediation recording is calming and helps me to drift off to sleep. But it also brings back memories of spending the night with Forrest in the villa, out on the balcony and dancing under the stars, looking out at the water. As the heaviness of my eyes starts to pull me under, I hope that this beautiful memory is what I dream about tonight, and that maybe Forrest is dreaming about me too. Then a final thought pops into my head as I drift off to sleep…

I wonder what he will send me for breakfast tomorrow and what color ribbon I’ll get.

FORREST

I hate not being able to speak to Harper, it’s killing me.

She would have received today’s breakfast a few hours ago, and today’s is blueberry pancakes with cream cheese and syrup, and of course, a blue ribbon to go with the berries. I want to see her reaction to these deliveries each day. A photo or even a video of her ranting about me sending them would be enough to take the edge off the pain in my chest I feel from missing her.

But I know if I reach out and she decides she wants to see me, then I would have to tell her where I am, and that’s a problem.

She hates lies. And it’s bad enough that we haven’t told her everything about what’s been going on with her stalker, but to find out that I am in Chicago and hopefully confronting him tonight would be like setting off an explosion, and one I’m not sure we would recover from.

I intend to tell her everything as soon as I get home, but it needs to be face to face. Because I need her to understand why I am doing this. For her to give me the chance to lay my heart in her hands and tell her the words she doesn’t want to hear but I’m saying them anyway. I have shown her multiple times that I love her but have never said it in those words. I knew they would make her run, but in the end, it didn’t matter because she did anyway.

Sitting in Ashton’s office this morning and watching these guys work is like being in another world. The technical work and the monitoring they are doing is next level to anything I have seen, and I’m sure if Rem was here, he would be loving every minute of this side of it. There is no fun in it for me, though. I just want tonight over and done with. To confront Chester and do what I came here for. To end this.

“Now, one last time before we leave the building, let’s repeat the plan.” Ashton is dressed in a pair of black jeans, gray long-sleeved shirt, and a black leather jacket over top of his gun strapped to his body. I didn’t ask, but I’m sure he probably has other weapons on him. I don’t need to know, that’s his part of the job. Mine is to be the bait.

There are six other men in the room that work for Ashton who are going to be the protection if needed, and of course, Ghost is on the line and listening in. He did make a comment when we were talking earlier that I’m lucky I’m related to Ashton because he doesn’t take on just any case like this or be convinced to use a civilian as the bait in a trap. To which Ashton just laughed and told him to shut up, that he is always being pulled into stupid jobs for family and friends, including Ghost.

They seem very close and remind me of the three guys back in London. A part of me felt like shit last night, finding out how upset they are with me. But I know we will get past that, just like we have when one of us has fucked up in the name of love.

Ashton starts to go over the plan again, and he has everyone’s undivided attention. There is major respect for this man in this room.

“Forrest will walk from his hotel to Garret’s Bar which is halfway to the function he is about to supposedly attend. Stop there and wait for our instructions once we know Chester is on the move in the city. Depending on where Chester heads, that is the direction we will get Forrest to start walking, putting him in direct line to run into Chester on the street out in the open. We need people to see this and be a witness, besides all of us who will be around him and filming it. Hopefully some dumbass on the street will take their phone out and film it and we can get the police to use that so we don’t have to enter into this at all.” He stops and looks directly at me.

“And you,” he says, pointing his finger at me with conviction. “Don’t do anything stupid or stray from this plan. We are here to keep you safe and alive, but if you screw me over on this, I will beat the shit out of you myself, or worse, still put a call in to Harper and fly her to Chicago so I can watch the fireworks.”

I can’t help but laugh at his threat because it’s exactly what would happen.

“Understood, and I’m man enough to say in this room that I am more scared of Harper than I am of you.” I hear chuckles from all the men around me.

“Me too, just saying. And that’s how I know how much she means to you.” Ashton gives me a look of understanding, like he knows what that same kind of love feels like.

“And my last instruction is for you to provoke him with your words, but don’t you dare lay a hand on him until it’s necessary. We need him to get a few good strikes on you so we can claim self-defense. But this is non-negotiable—if he pulls out a gun or any kind of weapon, you immediately pull back and let us handle it. Because let me assure you, if you love Harper like you say you do, do not, I repeat, do not let her live a life of hell knowing the two most important men in her life were killed by the same man, and one of them was doing it to protect her.” Ashton’s glare and words hit me hard. I hadn’t looked at it like that. “Understood?” His stance and the way his hands are in balled-up fists beside him show me how serious he is right now.

I just nod at him as my mind starts racing. I was too busy worrying about protecting Harper that I didn’t even think about what it would do to her if something serious happened to me. I thought I would be saving her, but instead, I could be condemning her to a life of torment greater than she already lives in now. I need to be smart about this. Smarter than I thought I was being, and make sure it happens the way we planned it.

“Right, thirty minutes, everybody, before we move out.” Ashton’s voice snaps me back out of my thoughts. Everyone moves out of the room from around me, and then it’s just me, him, and Ghost still on the line.

Ghost’s voice echoes through the room. “Hey, Forrest, just remember there is more than one way to get this guy. We’ve got your back, and we will get him, but if this starts to go south, you walk away, and we’ll regroup and try again another way. We’ve never lost a man yet, and we don’t intend on you being the first, okay?” I feel the brotherhood that exists between these guys that work in this kind of job. I know Ashton is ex-military, and although I don’t really know Ghost’s story, I’m sure it’s something like that too. I mean, a guy that working in security with a nickname like Ghost, there has to be a story there.

“Thank you for all that you are both doing to help me. I know having a stubborn English businessman show up on your doorstep, not prepared to take no for an answer, was not what you were expecting this week. But I appreciate that you heard me out and are giving me the chance to do what I came here to do. I know I can’t rest until Harper is truly safe, and the only way that can happen is if I do this, so thank you.” I feel a little vulnerable as the reality of what I’m about to do settles on top of me. Ashton steps forward and places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

“The only thank-you I need is you standing at the end of this with a few bruises for evidence—oh, and of course, payment for my services.” To which we all start laughing because he has already told me he won’t accept money from a relative, which I told him is bullshit. And no matter what he says, there will be money arriving in his account whether he likes it or not, because that’s who I am.

For the next thirty minutes, Ashton is busy working on other things, and I’m sitting here just waiting for the go-ahead to move when a text message comes up on my phone.

Flynn: I’m still angry at you, but please be careful. I don’t want to be the one to have to tell our parents that their son is dead because he was stupid.

A typical Flynn message. When emotions are hard, he uses humor to cover it up. But I get what he is trying to say.

Forrest: I love you too, Brother. I’ve got this.

Flynn: Yeah, love you too. And I believe you. You’ve always had it handled, for all of us, and I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you for that.

“Fuck,” I mumble to myself. Now is not the time for him to say mushy shit like that. I need to be focused and hard, not thinking about him saying things that tug at my heart.

Forrest: Thank you.

I can’t say any more, and luckily, Ashton gives me the nod from across the room that it’s time to go.

Taking a deep breath, I pocket my phone in the inside pocket of my coat and head for the door. As we all start exiting the building at different times and walking separately, it’s starting to feel more real now. I’m just glad Chester took the bait we set and immediately started googling about me and all he could find about my wealth and my job. How long I had been with Harper, and then once he was finished, he again started his search on her. Which we expected, but the golden egg was when he started to search up the event we had said I was attending tonight and the start time, where the entrance to the building was, and bus times to the nearest bus stop. We know he is getting on a bus, and it gives us the clue to where we think he will get off and what time. But we have back-up plans if he varies from that plan.

I make it to Garret’s Bar and sit at a window seat nursing a beer. I’m not even drinking it but ordered it because I just want to just blend in. I’m now getting all sorts of nerves racing through my body. The only thing keeping me focused is scrolling through my photos again, reminding myself why I’m doing this. The black-haired and brown-eyed woman in the photo staring back at me with that spark of fire in her eye that is full of trouble and love all at the same time. I’m doing this for her and her family. Time to put this fear to bed for all of them, even though her family doesn’t even know about it. I’m making sure they never have to know the fear that Harper lives with every day.

Ashton is sitting at the table next to me but with his back to me. But close enough I can hear him when he speaks.

“In five minutes, stand and leave, turning left as per the route we discussed.”

“Understood,” I reply and am thankful that I’m someone who can memorize things quickly. There will be one of Ashton’s team walking in front of me, at a distance, and I can just follow him as well, but that wasn’t enough for me. I have to be in control, so I have the routes totally committed to memory, all of the ones that we discussed.

* * *

My heart is beating so hard in my chest as I approach the last turn into the street where we anticipate running into Chester. I have what he looks like imprinted in my brain. It’s like it has a red haze over the image which comes from how I feel about him putting so much fear in the woman I love.

As I turn the corner, I can see the street isn’t busy, but there are plenty of people still walking around, either coming home from work or on their way out for the night. There are different smells in the street coming from a few restaurants down this strip and the normal stench of traffic. Cars are parked by the curb, and I see the bus stopping down the street ahead of me on my side of the road. People start exiting, and even from a distance, I see the man I’m here for, which makes my blood boil.

Dark curly collar-length hair, unshaven, but also unkept. Wearing jeans and a hoodie with a hole in the elbow that was facing me as he exited the bus. He turns and starts walking toward me but head down, which is not helpful, because he could easily walk straight past me. Trying to think quickly, I grab my phone from my pocket and pretend to be having a conversation on it as he gets closer. Then as soon as he is about four steps from me, I start talking.

“I miss you too, Harper.” And the moment he hears her name, his head flies up and we lock eyes. “Love you. Bye.” I pocket my phone as he gets level with me, and as he takes one step past me, I hold my demeanor. Then I hear him stop just behind me and call out loud enough for me to hear.

“Hey. You!”

I stop and steel my expression before I turn to look at him, just out of arm’s reach.

“You talking to me?” I say, pretending I’m a little confused and have no idea who he is.

“Yeah, man. You Forrest Taylor?” I scan him standing there with his hands in the single big pocket across the front of his hoodie, and I can tell he has something in his hands in that pocket. What that is, I have no idea yet. But he’s fidgeting and looking around nervously.

“Who are you?” I ask, trying to look shocked he even knows my name.

“Yeah, it’s you. Listen to you talking like some rich pompous prick with your stuck-up British accent.” I can see in his eyes the instability there.

“Who the fuck are you and how do you know my name!” I take a step closer to him and get in his face.

“I’m the man that’s going to take from that bitch what her father took from me.” A glaze forms over his eyes, and I tread carefully because I think rational thought is long gone for him.

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. Fuck off and leave me alone,” I say, dismissing him, and it’s enough to piss him off.

And as soon as I do that, I see his hand start to move from his pocket, holding a knife. Thankfully it’s not a gun because I can deal with this. I step back a couple of feet to keep myself safe.

“Not going to happen. That bitch of yours, Harper, her father stole my money and my life, so now she can pay for that with your life.” He starts to wave the knife around in front of me.

I raise my hands in the air to show I’m not a threat and also to hopefully attract onlookers. “Whoa there, buddy. It’s not her fault. She didn’t have anything to do with what her father did. You said money, is it money you want?” I say, trying to get him to put on film that he is blackmailing us if he chooses that option, but deep down, I already know that’s not it. “If it’s money, I’ll give it to you so you don’t hurt me, because Harper wouldn’t recover from that. Please, how much money do you need?”

I can see in his eyes that he homes in on the words that I purposely said to him, that me being hurt would cause her pain, because at the end of the day, he is looking for revenge. Everyone thought he was just after money, but it’s more than that now. He wants someone to pay for his life being screwed up and going to jail.

“I don’t give a fuck about the money, cunt. I want her to hurt. Daddy’s little girl needs to pay for his mistakes.” The venom in his words has my blood boiling, and I have never tried so hard in my life to ignore my instinct to grab him by the throat and deprive him of breathing the same air as the rest of us.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to kill me and make yourself feel better? How pathetic, you weak piece of shit. You can’t blame her for the choices you made in your life. She had no control of her father’s business. Harper was just a child.” I notice to my right on the other side of the parked cars, there are people starting to assemble, and there are plenty of phones out. One of them is a guy that works with Ashton that was given the job of filming, and I also have a tiny hidden wireless microphone planted just inside my pocket that will make sure we have clear dialogue of everything.

“I don’t care about any of that bullshit. You coming to Chicago saved me a trip to London to kill her. Someone’s gotta pay, and it suits me if that’s you, asshole. I can’t wait to watch her weep at your grave. Then I might just kill her too. Yeah, I’ll kill you and wait for her to come to me. This is perfect.” The glint in his eye at all this talk of murder is unnerving for me, but I won’t let him get in my head, telling myself Harper is a long way from here and she’s safe.

“Oh, you’re so tough with that knife in your hand, aren’t you. A real man would fight fair, man to man, fist to fist. If you are standing up for your family, at least do it honorably instead of being pathetic and weak.” And taking the biggest risk of my life, I turn my back on him, showing that he doesn’t scare me, when really my blood pressure is through the roof and I’m sweating profusely. I quickly spin back around and smash my hand into his that is holding the knife, taking him by surprise. When I hear the sound of metal hit the ground, I know I’ve got him. His panic at being disarmed has him landing his first punch into my stomach. It knocks the wind from me a little, but I was ready for it, so I stand my ground.

I put my hands out in front of me and call him to me. “Come on, you gutless wonder, is that the best you’ve got?” I position myself so that he can land a few more punches on me.

“You’re a mouthy cunt, aren’t you. All talk but no fight. Come on, mister tough guy, hit me.” Needing this to look real, I give him his wish and jab him in the side, and if he had any brains, he would see I have left my face wide open for him to hit me properly. Surely after seventeen years in prison he has learned to fight and defend himself.

And then it happens, and the moment his fist connects with my jaw, I hear sirens in the distance. The pain radiating through my body tells me that this is getting real now, and I need to push him over the edge.

I land a few more punches in his stomach, but I’m holding back my real rage. I want to kill this son of a bitch, but I can’t, and I won’t because that’s not who I am. That’s not the kind of man Harper wants me to be either.

As we go back and forth trading punches, the crowd around us starts shouting, and the sirens get closer. And that’s when a split-second break in concentration from looking at the police cars tearing down the street leaves me vulnerable. He lunges at me, knocking me to the ground, and in a second, he has the knife in his hand and his arm is moving. Feeling a sharp prick in my side, I have no idea what he has done to me, but I know I’m in trouble.

Shit.

I’ve fucked up here.

But before I have time to try to push him off me, his weight disappears off my chest, and the sharp pain in my side lessens as he is being pulled backward. Everything starts happening quickly, and I just lie here watching Ashton and one of his guys pin Chester to the ground, his face pushed into the concrete, his hands behind his back, and the knife by my side where he dropped it when they took him by surprise.

Putting my hand on my side where it hurts, I’m hesitant to look but know I need to, and as I pull my hand back up, I see the red dampness on it. The sight of blood should have me freaking out, but instead, it just fuels my rage. Who the hell assessed this man and deemed him stable enough to be let free from prison, and why wasn’t he being monitored by the parole system when he started searching for Harper? If it wasn’t for Ashton stumbling on this by accident while looking into another case, then we never would have known, and I can’t even bear to think of what could have happened.

I try to push onto my side so I can get up, because I made a deal that I would be standing and alive at the end of this, and I’m a man of my word.

Letting out a groan as I manage to push the top half of my body off the ground so I’m sitting, I see Ashton glaring at me from where he is stepping back into the crowd. We don’t want to make this look like it was a set-up, so the less intervention from him and his staff, the better it looks for the case we have built. I know he’s not happy that I have an injury, but as I struggle to get up on my feet, I give him a subtle chin lift to let him know I did as I promised.

Do I feel guilty for the way we provoked and set up Chester? Not a fucking chance. He chose to come looking for me. He was the one who threatened me and to straight-out tell me he wanted to kill me and then go after Harper, so he deserves everything that happens to him. For now, he will end up back in jail, and I will have to go through a court case, but I don’t care. As long as he is off the streets then I can rest easy and go home. Well, maybe not today, I might need a stitch or two in this gash. I look at it after lifting my shirt up. Police are walking toward me, and I guess I’m in for a long night.

“Are you okay, sir?” The policeman looks at me holding my side with blood on my fingers. “Call an ambulance to check him out.” He looks at his partner who starts talking into his two-way radio.

“I will be now.” It’s the best answer he is getting from me until I can sit down for a minute and take a breath of relief.

I watch them drag Chester away, still yelling and screaming that he will kill me one day, and it just shows to all the police on site how unhinged he truly is. It makes me feel satisfied that all the pain I’m feeling right now is worth it.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur—being taken to the hospital to be examined, a few stitches in my side, and then down to the police station to give my statement and make sure they had all the video footage from the witnesses. They played me the ones they had. Some are grainy and poor quality, but I could pick the one that came from our team because it was crystal clear and captured the whole thing from start to finish, including him being taken away and still screaming. The voices were easily heard, and there is no doubt who started it and what transpired.

* * *

It was just after eleven pm when they were finally finished with me and told me I could leave. The detectives would be calling me tomorrow, and then they will tell me when I will be cleared to fly home. Obviously, I will be needed back here to testify when the case goes to court, but I’ll be more than happy to sit there and look Chester straight in the eye. I’ll help put him away again for a long time on a case of attempted murder which is what they have charged him with.

I have given all the suggestions to them that they need to look at his computer and phone, because how else could he have known who I am and what my relationship to Harper is? Ghost posted an anonymous post earlier this morning on a fairly small socialite page in St. Tropez that doesn’t have many followers, of Harper and me out on Saturday night in the bar we were at. It was a photo that Flynn had snapped of the two of us on the dance floor and sent it through to Ashton when he said he needed something, and we didn’t want to ask any of the girls and freak them out. It’s not the best shot, which is perfect because then it looks authentic. This site will show up in the search history of Chester’s computer, which will link into why he started to search for me this morning. All the fake stories Ghost planted will be gone, and they assure me that not a soul will be able to trace them.

Ashton was waiting for me in my hotel room once I was dropped off by the taxi, and he just shook his head at me, then took me in a hug. He lectured me on going into the fight after he pulled the knife but then told me that he was proud of how I handled him. He then fussed around for a few minutes, making sure I was okay. He had been in contact with the guys, assured them I was fine and that I would call them in the morning. The painkillers are now kicking in, and even if I wanted to, there is no way I could hold a conversation.

Tomorrow I’ll be happy to talk, but tonight, I just need sleep.

And to work out how I’m going to explain all this to Harper without having my life threatened for a second time.