Soul (14 page)

“I have an appointment with Raven. My name is Gillian Davis,” I say matter-of-factly, and Chase grips me from behind nuzzling into my neck.

“Love hearing your new name, baby. Makes me hard all over again,” he presses the sizable proof of his statement into the crack of my ass. I can feel the heat of his meaty length through my jeans and it makes me wet. I press back quickly, giving him a shove back so he’ll get the hint. He totally doesn’t get it.

“Not now.” I warn and he chuckles as I scan the space to see if anyone can see what he’s doing.

Jack has followed us into the tattoo parlor but not said a word. He looks out the window, scans the area, basically presenting a menacing front to anyone who dares look his way.

A large hunk of a man enters from a back room. His hair is dark as night and curly, reminding me of Maria’s ebony waves. He’s tall, taller even than Chase and that’s flippin’ tall. Guy’s at least six foot four or five. His eyes are as black as his hair and shoot right through me. I shudder at the intense gaze. Within less than a second Chase is sliding an arm around my waist and claiming his woman in front of this god-like man. There’s muscle upon muscle visible through the thin cotton of his white t-shirt that would make any woman openly drool.

“You Gillian?” The man asks with a grumble that reaches through my chest and spirals right down to curl my toes. Damn, this guy is crazy hot. Not as hot as my husband, but he’s a fine second.

Chase steps forward. “This is Mrs. Davis.” He clarifies and holds out a hand. “I’m her husband.”

“Raven,” he holds out a strong hand. A hand that is surprisingly free of any ink. Makes me wonder where all his tattoos are.

“Well, apparently my wife made an appointment with you. Though I’m not sure why.”

“What we talked about on the phone?” His eyes sparkle when he addresses me and I nod.

Raven’s eyes go from Chase’s who are icy steel as he clutches my hip possessively and then grins. “I see. Hey man, if I had a wife who looked like her, I wouldn’t have been married and divorced twice already.”

That bit of unwarranted personal information, however, did not make Chase loosen his grip. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?” Chase asks me.

I nod quickly. “Can’t wait,” I bounce on my wedges and give him a luxurious kiss. He takes the opportunity to palm my ass, grinding his now softening erection into my pelvis. I push away. “Okay I’ll be back.”

“Should only take twenty minutes, come on beautiful,” he gestures to me, and Chase positively growls.

“I’m going with you.” His jaw is locked tight and the muscle I love so much is ticking away like a time bomb.

I stop mid-stride and turn around on a toe, my hair flying behind me. “No! It’s my gift to you. I want to surprise you with it.” I catch his gaze with my pleading one.

He speaks through clenched teeth. “Tell me you’re not taking off your pants or even unbuttoning a single button.”

I cross my heart for his benefit. “I swear.”

“And you’re keeping your shirt on.” His tone is a low warning.

“Um, completely on, yes.” I smile and he groans.

“Gillian, I will not have another man’s eyes or hands on my wife.” He grips my hips, fingers digging in. Usually this move would excite me. Now, it’s positively annoying.

Taking both his cheeks in my hands, I lean very close. “Trust me.”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Jack,” he says on a growl. “Go with her.”

I cringe and open my mouth to dispute it. He places two fingers over my mouth. “It’s my only compromise. Anything else, non-negotiable.”

Grinding down on the back of my teeth I look into his blue eyes and see that they are pure white-hot fire. He’s not happy about this idea. I can only hope he’s happy with the end product. “Okay, deal.”

He doesn’t even smile, just dips his chin tightly.

“Come-on sweet cheeks, I’ve not got all day.”

“Dude, do you have a death wish?” I ask, turning around looking at him but find that Jack has the man up against the wall his hand locked around Raven’s throat. “Jesus Christ let him go Jack!” I scream.

Jack speaks directly into the man’s face, only a scant couple inches away. His voice is low and his tone deadly as his words lay out a true warning. “You do not speak of Mrs. Davis in that manner. You will respect her, and give her the tattoo she wants as quickly as possible so we may take our leave. You will be paid four times the price to keep your eyes on the design and not on her body. Got me?” He nods with the little space Jack allows between the vice grip he has on the man’s neck. “I’m glad we understand each other,” he lets Raven go and he slumps back against the wall. Jack readjusts his jacket clearly making the gun holster he wears visible to the artist. As suspected, Raven’s eyes widen, he adjusts himself to full height and gestures to the back.

“Come on Mrs. Davis.”

I walk back to the room and look over my shoulder. Chase is already pacing the floor, clearly mumbling to himself.

“Go on and lie down on the table and show me where you want it. I’ve got everything ready,” Raven says.

I lie down and pull up my tank top, folding the fabric over my breasts. You can probably see the bottom of my lace bra and that’s it. Jack looks at me and scowls. I point to my ribs just under my breast on the same side as my heart. Right here.”

Raven places a piece of paper over that spot, and presses down then methodically removes it. He hands me a mirror. I hold it up and look down to see the transfer of the ink on my skin. “It’s perfect. Let’s do it.”

He grabs a seat, and his tattoo needle and gets to work. The minute the needle touches down on my sensitive skin I brace, grit my teeth and wait for the moment the slight pinch of pain turns into euphoria. It doesn’t take long. I felt the same thing when I got my Trinity tattoo on my wrist with the girls. They all thought I’d be the wimp but it turns out, I barely flinched. The color actually hurt worse than the black outline but for this one, it’s all black.

The buzzing lulls me into a hyper alert state. Raven is actually really professional. He’s focused one hundred percent on the design and not on my bare midriff or the lace and satin of my undergarment. At one point his black gaze lifts and he catches mine. “You good?”

I nod. Jack hovers at the end of the bed watching every move Raven makes as if he’s my over-bearing father instead of a hired bodyguard. I can only imagine how Chase is doing out in the waiting area. The thought makes me chuckle and Raven’s eyes widen and his brows rise. “Something funny?”

“I’m just thinking about how much my husband is freaking out right now.” I glance at Jack and he’s still wearing a frown only the corners tip up a bit like he’s forcing himself not to smile.

Raven laughs. “Yeah, I’ve seen protective men but he takes the cake. Hiring you a bodyguard, he gestures over to Jack. You two got married yesterday?” he asks while digging deep into the portion that cuts across my rib. I wince momentarily and take a breath. “Okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. We were supposed to get married a month ago but some unfortunate things got in the way. We eloped and got married at Gougane Barra Church, the little one by the lake. It was magical,” I think back to Chase spinning me around, my dress flowing in the breeze after we pledged our love to one another.

“Gougane Barra Church?” He whistles. “That must have set him back quiet a penny. It’s a historical site now, I’m pretty sure they don’t usually allow people to marry in it.”

I smile and flinch again at a particularly painful spot. “My husband is comfortable monetarily.”

He glances at the bodyguard and then back and me with a grin. “I kind of gathered that.”

“You two heading back to the States soon?” He asks making polite conversation.

“I hope not. We bought a home in Bantry and plan to spend our honeymoon here for a while, then we’ll head back to San Francisco.”

“Never been,” Raven shrugs.

“To San Francisco?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, to the States, though one day I hope to get around to it.”

“You should. We have a lot of beauty in our lands too.”

Raven wipes my skin with a cool cloth, it grates along the freshly tattooed area. He hands me the mirror again. I look down at my skin and see it’s exactly what I wanted. I just know Chase is going to love it, seeing his mark on me, knowing it’s for him. I can’t wait to show him! “I love it!”

The artist wipes some type of gel on the wound and gives me the run down for keeping it clean and dry. I’ve heard it before.

When we’re done, Chase jumps up from his seat and looks me all over. “Well? Where is it?”

I turn my back from the men as Jack saddles up to the cash register to pay Raven. Slowly I watch Chase’s eyes as I lift my shirt, peel back the bandage and watch his eyes change color.

He drops to his knees in front of me, his eyes glued to the tattoo. “That’s the most perfect wedding present you could have ever given me.”

I smile wide and watch as he looks at the symbol I’ve permanently placed on my body for him.

He traces the design over the clear plastic bandage with one finger, and I close my eyes.

W
hen Gillian lifted
up her shirt earlier today and showed me the infinity symbol with the word love intertwined I about took her on the floor of that tattoo parlor. Knowing that she put that on her body permanently for
me
, giving me a gift that will last through the end of time…it makes me want to worship the ground she walks on. Good God, my wife makes me insane in all the right ways not excluding mentally, physically, and emotionally.

After her kidnapping and my mother’s murder, I thought nothing could heal that wound, but having her near, officially with me, as my
wife
is stitching the very heart of me back together. Making me something that I wasn’t before, but somehow better. Gillian makes me want to be a better man. A good man, one she can be proud to call her husband.

Husband.

I’m someone’s husband. I shake my head and chuckle as we enter the Bantry home. Gillian turns looking over her shoulder, her hair a wild mess of red curls down her back, the smile she’s wearing so pretty it could light up a dark day.

“What?” Her eyes are an intense green and swimming with curiosity.

I shake my head and press her into the room with a light touch to her lower back. Colin approaches, a grim set to his features. “Colin, something the matter?” I ask.

“I’m afraid there is, sir. Have you checked your cell phones?” I tap my pockets and shrug.

“On my honeymoon, my good man, the phone is off.” I grin and pull Gillian into my arms, snuggling her from behind.

Colin frowns. “I suggest you turn them on. There has been news from the States that I’m certain you’ll want to hear.”

Jack enters with our bags from our shopping excursion after the tattoo parlor. Gillian and I wanted to add things to the Bantry home to make it our own. We found several knick-knacks and pieces of art to add to the already beautiful décor. It was important to her to choose these items together. She says they give the place a more lived in and loved feel to us each time we visit.

“Colin, what is it?”

He glances around the room. “Shall we go into a more private location?” he asks waiting for me to decide if I want him to speak in front of Gillian and Jack.

“No need. Answer my question?” My tone is bordering on annoyed, which does not bode well for the evening I had planned with my lovely new wife.

The frown he’s sporting deepens. “An Agent Brennen called from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Unfortunately, I have to be the bearer of some very unfortunate news. It seems two members of Mrs. Davis family have been harmed in a fire.” Colin holds his hands in front of him and bows his head respectfully.

Gillian’s hand comes to her mouth. “What? Oh my God, who?” Her eyes instantly fill with terror.

“The gentleman didn’t say, he just left the note to call.” Colin looks to Gillian. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.

As Gillian’s hands start to shake, I can already hear Jack on the phone. “Brennen, Porter here. What’s happened?”

Gillian sits on the couch and holds her hands near her face, her fingers clasped. She sits with her eyes closed and moves her lips. I sit next to her and hold her close as we wait to hear what Jack learns. “It’s going to be okay, baby. We’ll handle this together.” She starts rocking and her fingers whiten from the strain of holding them in such a firm grip.

“We’ll be on the next plane out,” Jack growls into the phone. “You should have called me, Brennan. I understand. We’re on our way.”

Jack comes over to the two of us sitting on the couch and sits down on the table directly in front of us. Gillian’s eyes are wide, filled with fear as she looks up to hear the news.

He clears his throat before speaking. “Gillian, your two friends, Maria and Kathleen,” Gillian instantly lets out a sob at hearing their names. I pull her closer. “They were in a fire. The two of them were working late at the San Francisco Theatre when the blaze happened. Maria is being treated for wounds around her midsection and smoke inhalation. She’s going to be just fine. Absolutely okay.” The way he stresses how Maria is going to be okay and not Kathleen sends an icy river of fear down my spine. Gillian holds my hands tight.

“And Kat?” her voice shakes as the tears over take her.

Jack sucks in a breath and does something I’d never expect him to do in a million years. He reaches out a hand and clasps her knee. Her face crumbles and a sob escapes at the comforting gesture. “Kathleen is in serious condition. She sustained considerable burns over fifteen percent of her body as well as extreme exposure to smoke. That’s all we know at this time.

“What happened?” I ask while attempting to comfort my wife.

“It looks like arson. Someone set it up where Kathleen would die in the fire.” Gillian whimpers and I cut my eyes at Jack. His eyes narrow in response but he continues undeterred. “The only reason she didn’t is because Maria was ruthless. Once she got out of the front of the building she went around to the back and kicked at the small window near Kat’s office. The guard I had on her helped, and she entered the small space, pulled Kat out. But not without getting harmed herself. Her injuries however are surface whereas Kathleen…” He shakes his head. “I’m sure you want to get home right away. I’ll call for one of the planes.”

Gillian stands up. “Let’s just go. Take whatever flights out are next.”

I look at my wife’s tortured face and the anger within simmers deep, curling and curving around my ribs, up my chest to awaken a monster I haven’t met yet. That motherfucker did this to get to my wife. He will pay for every inch of pain he has caused Gillian and her friends. I’ll see to it, or die trying.

We find out that the private jet we took here can be ready within the hour. Gillian and I go to our room. When we get there she gasps. Hanging directly over our bed is the trinity tapestry she purchased from the little old lady she met and incidentally attended our wedding unannounced. My wife walks over to the large tapestry and fingers the fabric. “It’s perfect.”

“It is, and we’ll come back and enjoy it very soon. I promise you. This is our home away from home. We can bring all your friends here to vacation together. Just as soon as this is over. And it will be over soon.” I place my hand on her shoulder as she stares at the intricate design. On a sob she twirls around and cowers into my chest, her shoulders heaving with her grief.

“I wasn’t there. If I was there, maybe he would have gone for me and not them.” She cries out as if she is in physical pain. Sometimes the emotional strain is far more painful than the physical. I know that all too well after spending years seeing my mother beat to a bloody pulp until my father took his hand to me.

I shake my head and pet her hair. “Baby, no. This man is sick. It doesn’t matter. He’s going to strike wherever he wants to strike. There is no possible way to know what he’s going to do next, but we’re working with the FBI and the San Francisco PD. I’m certain when they go through this fire investigation, they’ll come up with something. A lead. In the meantime we’re working on a plan. Okay? Let’s just focus on getting home and checking on the girls.”

Gillian nods sniffing loudly, her tears running so quickly down her cheeks it’s as if they were two identical waterfalls. I hand her the handkerchief in my pocket and she wipes her nose noisily against it. Then she sucks in a long, slow breath bringing her body back in control and pushing her emotions to the wayside. It’s amazing to watch how she slowly puts herself back together. With effort, she straightens her spine, breaths deep, clears her throat and tilts her head. “Okay, let’s go.”

We gather up a change of clothes, our phones, which had been off and left on the nightstand, and are now are flaring with a large numbers of notifications. It’s as if each ding is another spike into Gillian’s bleeding heart. It’s going to take mammoth effort to keep her together.

Soon we’ve said our goodbyes to Colin and Rebecca with our apologies and promise to return soon.

T
he plane touches
down in SFO International after an eleven-hour flight. That did not include the drive to the airport, getting through the airport, and the taxiing time. Overall, the trip has been a good sixteen hours, and I for one am drained. Gillian finally fell asleep after taking a couple sleeping pills. I stayed up most of the flight working with Jack and the additional guards on a plan. We’ll need to talk to Agent Brennen and Thomas Redding, but we think it’s a good one. None of us can continue to live like this. Always on edge, waiting for the next person to get hurt. McBride is too intelligent. He seems to be a step ahead of the team. Our plan, however, is designed to draw him out of the shadows. The three of us agree that it’s foolproof. It has to work. No more waiting. This time next week McBride will be ours.

Jack drops us in front of San Francisco General Hospital, a building I now know all too well. It’s sickening that I’ve been to this hospital more in the past year than I’ve been to a grocery store or a library. I know too many of the hospital staff by first name, and it fills me with a sour seed that’s setting roots in my gut.

Gillian rushes to Intensive Care not even needing to look at the directory or the signs. She also knows this place well.

When the elevator doors open, we can see a crowd of people at the end of the hall, the easiest to recognize is the six-months, pregnant woman who’s pacing the floor, hand to her lower back. Carson, Phillip, and Thomas are sitting in a line of chairs opposite her pacing. It’s as if time stops when she looks up. Her pretty face with the big, blue eyes and soft features seems to disintegrate into a massive ball of devastation. Gillian runs to her, pulls her into her arms and holds her close.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she cries into Bree’s neck.

Bree’s long, blond waves cover them like a shroud. She speaks softly to my wife, their foreheads pressed together. Both of them cry, hug, and hold one another for long minutes.

“When can I see them?”

Bree shakes her head. “They haven’t let any of us see either of them but supposedly they’ll let us see Maria very soon.”

“Excuse me?” I ask my voice a heavy timber in the otherwise quiet space.

Bree sniffs and pushes her hair back. “They aren’t telling us anything about Kat, but I guilted one of the nurses, who’s a client of mine. They said we couldn’t see her because of something about her being too serious and the potential for contamination. All we know is that she’s stable, for now, but she’s undergoing serious burn treatment.” The tears rush down Bree’s face and she hiccups.

“They said…they said…she was going to need a lot of surgeries to repair the damage to her arm and that she may not…” she chokes and Phillip stands next to her holding her in his arms, running a soothing hand up and down her back. He calms her down enough that she can finish. Gillian locks her arms around me. “They said, she may not ever be able to use that arm again. She’s going to have severe nerve damage and the scarring…” She shakes her head. “Please God let her be okay,” Bree crumbles into a fit of sobs as Phillip holds her, leads her to a chair, and scoops her into his lap.

With as much patience as I can, I take hold of my girl and maneuver Gillian into a seat, lock my arm around her shoulder then keep her pressed into my side where she belongs. She leans heavily against me and silently lets the tears fall.

Across from Gillian, I lock eyes with Carson. He looks shattered, half-dead, and from what I gather, hasn’t been able to see his woman. The turmoil pumping off him is thick and ripe with fury. I nod in his direction, and he shakes his head. His position, those blue eyes devoid of anything, speak for him. He might as well have a sign around his neck that says, “Back off.” I won’t approach, not right now. Now we wait.

After an hour of sitting Dr. Dutera enters the waiting room. Man this guy has had far too much time with our group of friends. His eyes widen when he sees Gillian and me.

“Thought this group was familiar.” The doctor grumbles.

“Need an update. How are Maria De La Torre and Kathleen Bennett?” I ask.

The doctor frowns. “Mr. Davis, you are not direct kin of either of these women.”

“No, but I’m listed as the direct medical contact for both of them as Kathleen’s parents are separated and live in other states, which obviously...” Gillian makes a point to look around the room with her hands out wide before continuing. “...they haven’t been contacted. Maria doesn’t have any family but me,” she continues.

The doctor’s eyes assess the validity of her statement, and he must believe it because he finally gives us the run down.

“Ms. De La Torre has been moved to a regular room. She was treated for slight carbon monoxide poisoning and several surface wounds on her abdomen and feet.”

“Her feet?” I ask.

“Apparently she kicked at some wooden beams and glass with bare feet to get your friend out,” the doctor confirms. Now that, I believe. That Italian-Spanish fireball would do anything to save her friends.

Then Dr. Dutera’s look turns somber, and I know he’s about to give us bad news. “Ms. Bennett didn’t fare as well. She’s being treated for severe smoke inhalation, a collapsed lung, and third degree burns over her left arm, side of her neck, and down her left side ribcage. All layers of the skin in those areas have been destroyed. The damage extends into the subcutaneous tissues and she’ll need grafting in order to heal. Right now we’ve managed the lung, gotten her stable and are dealing with the poisoning. She is on one hundred percent oxygen, is heavily sedated and will undergo many rounds of hyperbaric oxygen therapy until her levels have come back to something resembling normal. She is not out of the woods. We will take her prognosis one day at a time.”

“Can we see her?” Gillian looks at Carson and waves him over. She clasps his hand. “This is her boyfriend and we’re her best friends,” she loops her arm around Bree’s waist. “We have to see her with our own eyes. Make sure she’s okay.”

Dr. Dutera lets out a pained noise and a loud breath. “We’ll take each of you one at a time.” As much as I can tell Gillian wants to go first, she allows Carson the honor.