Only Pleasure (45 page)

But Kia. Sweet God, he moved in front of her as she reached out for him. Her face was tear-stained, sobs erupting from her chest as he gripped her hands with one of his and made certain she was shielded.

Brockheim was staring at them now in rage and panic. The gun was shaking in his hand, and Chase watched, cold, enraged, as Brockheim brought the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

At the explosion Kia flinched and cried out.

"Chase!" She reached for him, panic filling her. "No. Chase."

He caught her against his chest.

"Oh God, don't be shot," she sobbed. "Please, God, Chase, don't be shot."

He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm fine, baby." He lowered his head over hers, and for the first time in too long, he felt tears fill his eyes. "I'm fine, baby. I have you."

"Don't be shot," she cried hoarsely. "You can't be."

"No, baby. I swear." He wanted to rock her and was too scared to. He wanted to lift her into his arms, but was terrified of the pain he might cause her.

Her hands were on his back, stroking down it. His chest. She was touching him, though he could tell it was hurting her to do so.

He could still hear the assault on Kia through that damned door, Brockheim demanding she call, and her attack. He could still feel the terror streaking through him. It was still feeding through him, growing and intensifying as she continued to sob against his chest.

Kia didn't cry easily. And she didn't cry like this.

"Ambulance is on its way." Cameron hunkered down beside them, his expression somber. "So is Detective Allen."

"She's hurt." Chase lifted his head to look intently at his brother. "God, Cameron. She let him hurt her, to save me."

Just as Cameron had let their aunt hurt him to save Chase. He saw it in his brother's eyes. Knew it in his heart.

"You killed for me," Cameron whispered. "For me and Jaci. Because you loved us. She was watching your back, Chase, the same as you would have for her."

Chase shook his head and looked down at her, so fragile in his arms, blood seeping from the wound on her head, her gown torn, sobs still pouring from her as she held on to him.

"I love you, Kia." He pressed his head against hers, held her and prayed, prayed with everything inside him that he had gotten to her in time. "I love you. Ah God, baby, I love you."

Dr. Sanjer didn't let her out of the hospital that night, or even the next. Not that Kia was capable of asking to leave that first night.

Contact with the wall had somehow done more damage to Kia than Harold Brockheim had done when he attacked her outside her apartment building.

The concussion was severe enough that she had to be under constant supervision and checked hourly. Thinking was something she didn't do well, and the pain in her head and in her ribs was excruciating.

She was aware of Chase arguing with the doctor, the nurses, though she wasn't certain why he was arguing at first. She knew Detective Allen was there for a few minutes before Chase ran him out.

She knew Chase hadn't left her side. He sat that night with her hand in his, barely dozing.

When she awoke the next morning she gave him the details he needed to make certain the detective had the statement. As she spoke fury darkened his eyes.

"Why didn't you call me?" His face was in hers, his lips drawn back from his teeth as pain and anger marked his face. "Did you think I wasn't capable of protecting you?"

He would have given his life for her, and she knew it. A part of her had always known it. She loved him with an intensity that could only come about if that love was returned.

Kia had known that. As she had felt the pain moving through her at the knowledge Brockheim just might kill her there, she knew Chase loved her. And that he would easily have tried to trade his life for hers.

"If I had done as you warned me, and not left your side, it wouldn't have happened," she whispered. "It was my fault, Chase. I couldn't let him hurt you because I was stupid. Besides, would you have suspected Harold of doing something so insane? I always thought Moriah got her insanity from her mother. Margaret was always a little different. Harold was always so steady, so patient."

He snarled, then groaned. His head dropped to the pillow by her shoulder, and she felt the tension radiating through him.

"I'm spanking you for this," he growled, "when you're better."

"Ah, my reward." She grinned, though it still hurt a bit. "I was wondering when you would get around to that."

His chuckle was rough as he lifted his head. His fingers whispered above the bruise on her face.

"I love you." He stared into her eyes, and she saw the truth of it. She saw all the bitter fury, the ragged pain he had felt when he burst into that room and saw her on the floor. She knew, because she knew how she would have felt. And she couldn't have borne knowing he had been hurt so severely.

"I love you," she whispered back. "But we really need to begin discussing events concerning Moriah Brockheim. You should have told me, Chase. Perhaps I would have understood more."

He shook his head. "Steel fucking spine," he whispered.

A frown snapped between her brow. That was what her father was always muttering to her mother. It couldn't be a good thing.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" she demanded, despite the lethargy stealing over her again.

"Hell, I think it's both." He leaned forward and kissed her lips gently. "Go to sleep, baby. You're going to need your strength when you get out of here."

"Don't leave me," she sighed. She was slipping away, the drugs they were giving her for the pain taking hold of her senses.

Her hand tightened on his. Chase laced his fingers with hers and brought them to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not even for a second."

He had been there for two days. He had showered in the bathroom attached to her private room, but other than that, he hadn't left the room. He wasn't leaving. If he had to take his eyes off her longer than what he absolutely had to, he might go insane.

"I love you," she whispered again as she slipped into sleep.

"I love you, Kia. Rest, baby."

He held her hand as she relaxed into sleep, unaware he was being watched until his head lifted and he saw Drew Stanton standing in the doorway.

Drew's expression was somber, his brown eyes a bit bitter, but accepting. In one hand he carried a vase of flowers. He moved into the room and set the flowers on the table by her bed and stared down at her.

"He bruised her cheek," Drew whispered sadly.

"As you did," Chase reminded him. He wasn't ready to forgive the other man for that.

Drew nodded slowly before meeting Chase's eyes again. "I courted her and I married her because I thought you wanted her. I thought, look at me, the big shit. I have something Chase Falladay wants and can't have."

Chase stared at him in surprise.

"You always had her, though." He sighed. "And when I saw her in that room, willing to die to protect you, I guess I finally grew up." He shook his head. "Maybe, if I had cared more for her than I had for myself, things might have been different."

Chase shook his head. "I would have taken her from you eventually."

To that, Drew smiled. "No, you wouldn't have. Kia keeps her promises, Chase. All of them, no matter what, no matter how much it hurts her. You'll find that out. She doesn't back down. She doesn't fight. She doesn't rage. But you'll see." He nodded, amusement sparking his eyes.

"You'll find out. She's stronger than any other woman you'll ever meet, and most men."

He already knew that. Chase stared back at Drew, holding that knowledge close to himself. He had known that for a while now.

"I'm heading to England," Drew said then. "New job, better position and pay." He shrugged. "Tell her I said goodbye."

He turned and stepped toward the door.

"Drew." Chase stopped him as he passed the end of the bed. The other man turned back to him. "Thank you for being there. For seeing what I missed when she stepped into that elevator."

Drew's lips quirked. "You weren't the only one worried." Then he nodded and turned and walked out of the room.

Chase stared down at Kia and whispered another prayer. A thank-you.

Other than the concussion and some bruising, she was going to be fine. She would be out of the hospital in the morning and home where she belonged. In their home. In his bed.

"Hey, bro. Dinnertime." Cameron swaggered into the room, a greasy bag in one hand, two cups of coffee in a holder in the other.

He looked at Kia, his gaze flashing with compassion before his attention was distracted by his fiancée moving in behind him.

"Is she asleep?" Jaci whispered, her big green eyes concerned.

They had stuck by him the past two days, Cameron and Jaci, sleeping in the chairs in the hallway or stretching out on the couch in the waiting room when they could. They hadn't left until that evening to rest and shower before coming back.

Khalid had a bodyguard outside her door just in case there was further trouble and another doctor had been flown in from New York to consult with Sanjer, just to be on the safe side.

Friends surrounded her. Ian and Courtney, Ella and James, Terrie and her husband, Jesse. They had all been there. Even Devril, Lucian, and Tally had cut their vacation short to return home and visit her in the hospital. Saxon and Marey, friends of Chase's who Kia hadn't met yet, had called several times from where they were visiting with Sax's family in California, and Kimberly and Jared had been in to see her several times. Flowers filled the room, and he hoped she felt the friendship.

She would never be alone again, Chase promised himself. No matter what happened, there would always be friends surrounding her.

"Come on, Chase. Coffee and food." Cameron tapped his shoulder, drawing his attention. "She's going home tomorrow, and everything's going to be fine."

"She's coming home." And he could finally believe it. Finally, that lonely, dark apartment full of the memories of a life that had ended when he was a child would be a home.

Because of Kia. Because she had taken pleasure and turned it into love. Because she had filled his heart, just as he knew she was going to fill his life.

It wasn't only pleasure anymore. Hell, Chase knew, it never had been.