Chapter Fifteen
Going to the gym at six in the morning wasn’t usually a chore, but today felt very different. They’d talked some more before Harper had fallen asleep on his lap. Pulling himself away from her soft, naked form this morning had required a herculean effort.
He needed to work off the residual anger and frustration swirling through his veins, and Frankie was just the guy.
Franco “Frankie” Reyes had been at the forefront of the early MMA scene.
He’d fought some of the early UFC greats like Royce Gracie, Kenneth Shamrock, and Patrick Smith.
Together, these guys had forged modern cage fighting.
“I need to hit the cage today.”
Frankie took a long look at his face. “Sure thing, kid.”
After a sweaty hour, Trent hit the locker room and put his head under the cold tap. Once his breathing got back to some semblance of normal and his muscles stopped screaming, he’d be fine. His body might be in agony, but finally his mind had stilled.
“You wanna tell me what’s got up your ass this morning? No one has come that close to laying me out since I quit pro.”
Trent turned off the tap and pushed his dripping hair back over his head, letting it drip onto his already soaked shirt.
“If I could, I would, Frankie. You know that. But I do need a favor.”
“Hit me. You know I got your back.”
“I have a friend, a woman, who needs to learn how to fight her way out if she gets into a tough spot.”
“So get her to sign up for the ladies’ classes. We run ’em twice a week.”
“No can do. She’s already been attacked. Badly. Needs confidence as much as she needs moves. Doubt she’d come here to a room full of people. Doesn’t like being touched either. I’m working on that, but it’ll take time.”
Frankie looked down at his watch and pursed his lips together. “I got nothing that can’t be changed for the next couple of hours. Your girl around?”
It was Harper’s day off and she was swinging by for her next appointment in the afternoon, which he seriously couldn’t wait for. Inking a girl had never been such a turn-on.
“I’ll jump in the shower then give her a call on the way to the shop, see if she can come down.”
“Okay, have her swing by and she and I can have a chat, no fighting today, just understanding what she needs. Figure out what we can do. What’s her name?”
“Harper. Harper Connelly.”
“Harper Connelly, huh? Should I be reading something into the cheesy grin that went with that?”
Trent shrugged. “Probably.” Frankie slapped him on the shoulder, laughing, and left him to his shower.
* * *
Harper left Trent’s condo and navigated her way to the address Trent had given her. The single-story industrial unit looked vacant from the outside. A simple black sign with FRANKIE’S in gold lettering hung above one of the dirty windows. Trent had warned her not to be put off by the exterior.
His call had caught her off guard, and Harper tried to embrace the adrenaline buzz that vibrated through her.
The idea of training to fight back seemed so obvious, yet she hadn’t thought of it herself.
Or perhaps the idea had never occurred because the concept of placing herself deliberately in the path of another person wasn’t something she’d been willing to entertain. Until Trent.
She pushed the heavy door open and was immediately hit by the smell of sweat and bleach.
The sound of a skipping rope hitting the concrete and the monotonous thud of a speed bag being pounded echoed in rhythm around the gym.
She walked farther into the gym, pushed at a suspended punching bag as she passed by.
“Hello?” Her voice echoed in the cavernous space.
“Hey, Harper. I’m Frankie, good to meetcha.” Harper jumped as Frankie came up behind her from a hidden office. He was taller than she, wearing warm-up pants and a vest that showed a tight physique. The gold chains he wore matched the gold in his teeth, but he had kind eyes.
“Trent told me very little, except you need some self-defense and it might be tough for you. You can tell me everything or nothing, makes no difference to me. But if I know what it is that troubles you, it might help you for us to focus on it.”
Harper studied him closely for a moment. She trusted Trent and something told her she could trust the man in front of her. She needed all the help she could get.
The words jumbled up in her head, and it took Harper a moment to straighten them out. “I was attacked. By a man. I ended up in the hospital. It’s made me … nervous … around people, I mean.”
Frankie nodded. “Two questions. Is the bastard in prison?”
“For now,” Harper responded. She tried not to think about how much longer that would be the answer.
“Second, d’you want to do this for you, or are you doing this because Trent suggested it?”
Harper pondered the question for a moment. “For me,” she answered confidently. “I want to know if he comes for me again, I’m better prepared. But I’m really not sure I can do it.”
“Good. It won’t work if you aren’t here for yourself. Let’s take a walk around the gym, talk some more, see what kind of plan we can figure out.”
Frankie pointed out various bits of equipment and some of the exercises he thought would help. They discussed what Harper needed, and when the sessions would start.
“So, at our first session we’ll focus on basic tactics to fend off an attacker,” Frankie said after she told him an abbreviated version of her story.
He leaned back in his chair. “But so you’re prepared, we’ll try to work on someone coming up behind you in every session.
Unacknowledged fear is a weakness, and you’re being brave to address it. ”
“I appreciate this, Frankie, I really do.”
A young boy waved at them through the window. Slouching under the weight of a large backpack, he walked toward a series of small tables.
“My son, Anton.” They both looked over as he pulled out a textbook, puzzled by whatever it was he was reading.
“He struggles. Well, in anything he has to write in. Math, he’s great at. I guess seventh grade is tough. We all set for starting next week then?”
Harper nodded and picked up her purse. “I would say I can’t wait … but…”
Frankie smiled, “It’s okay, I get it. We’ll get through this.”
As she was leaving, she saw Anton tug a hand through his hair in frustration, his shoulders rounding in defeat.
“Hey, Anton.” Harper walked toward him. He looked up at her curiously. “I’m Harper. What are you working on?”
He looked over toward his dad before answering. “Stupid essay on the sea.”
“Can I see it? I can help if you want.” His eyebrows furrowed, and he bit his lip in thought. He moved his backpack out of the way and created space for her to sit.
“Hmm. ‘Take a quote about the sea from literature and discuss what the author was trying to express.’ Wow. That’s a doozy of a question. What were you thinking?”
“I dunno. I don’t know many quotes.”
“Well, we could maybe use your dad’s computer, but here’s one quote offhand: Did you know that Franz Kafka once wrote that a book should serve as ‘the axe for the frozen sea within us’?”
“What, like books make us feel warm?” He looked at her hopefully.
“Definitely. You are one smart cookie,” Harper answered, warmed by the first genuine smile she had seen on Anton’s face. “I’m sure we can come up with more.”
* * *
The sun coming in through the main windows haloed Harper’s silhouette when she walked in a bit later that afternoon. There was a deep red in the darkness of her hair that he’d never noticed before. He leaned against the hallway wall and watched her talking animatedly to Pixie.
She wore a black strapless sundress that skimmed the floor and silver sandals that showed off the bright pink of her toes. A halter-neck bikini poked over the top, and now that he knew what it was encasing, he found it increasingly hard to keep his dick in check.
The Harper he was looking at now, standing on tiptoe to look over the desk at whatever was on Pixie’s laptop, was so different from the Harper who’d approached him on the street that night. She’d seemed so fragile back then; even her skin had felt like ice to the touch.
Seeming to sense him, she turned her head to look straight at him, her eyes hooded with emotions he couldn’t or didn’t want to fully acknowledge. Her tongue licked her upper lip before her teeth claimed the lower one.
Neither of them moved. They just stood, staring as electricity charged between the two of them. He pushed off the wall. Christ, he was done for.
Without saying a word, he came to stand right before her, practically toe to toe. He knew his height gave him a huge advantage, and he grinned as she leaned backward to look up at him.
“Just kiss her already!” Pixie called with a whoop.
Harper laughed, the sweetest freakin’ sound, and Trent couldn’t hold out any longer. Bending, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her until their faces were close to level, her legs still dangling down.
As his lips touched hers, the burning he had for her flamed hotter. Without stopping, he reversed them out of the main studio toward his office, flicking the bird at Cujo, who was staring at them with his mouth open.
Pushing up her dress, he wrapped Harper’s legs up around his waist, backed her into the door of his office, and locked it.
The music was blasting loud, vibrating the pictures on the wall with the heavy beat and disguising the sounds of them making out like teenagers in his office.
“How was Frankie?” he managed to ask before his lips reclaimed hers.
“Helpful. I missed you,” Harper mumbled against his lips as he pushed his aching hard-on against her stomach.
“Really,” he murmured back, “I didn’t miss you at all.” Feeling the slight tug on his hair made him groan.
Harper tipped her head back and laughed as he reached up and pulled her strapless dress down, uncovering her bikini top. He was seriously going to hell if he took her in his office with a studio full of people outside.