Soul (4 page)

Thinking of my princess reminds me of the satchel on my back. Gillian’s going to love the things I’ve brought her this morning. Fresh fruit—she seemed to like that apple yesterday—bakery bread, butter, and a decadent dessert. I remember how much she loves to end a meal with a sweet. I’ll show her just how thoughtful I can be if she’ll let me. Eventually though, I’ll have her back, wanting me, making love to me willingly. Tonight though, I’m going to have to take her even if I need to tie her down and make love to her struggling form. If she screams, I’ll just gag her. If it takes all night, I’ll love on her, make her feel so good until she forgets any other man who came before me.

The rope in my bag will do just fine. My dick stirs in my pants, reminding me I haven’t fucked a woman in a few days. That Dana bitch was a nice hole, pretty enough face when I opened my eyes. Most of the time I fucked her with her face pressed into the mattress and her ass in the air. The same way Gillian wanted me to fuck her that one time. No. I won’t fuck my perfect girl like a whore. Only the empty holes of the faceless women could be fucked like that. Gillian deserves more, and tonight, I’ll give it to her. One way or another, she is going to have her legs spread wide, her arms open in invitation and her body bared to me. Only me.

I make it close to my home and hear voices. Silently, I set down the heavy weight of the pack I carried leaning it against a tree. Slinking closer, I can see that pig cop Thomas Redding and a gray haired man scanning the ground around my motor home.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I reach into the back of my pants and pull out my gun. I can take them out one by one without anyone being the wiser. Just as I get Thomas’s head in my sights and my finger pressing ever so slightly on the trigger, I hear it. A voice. Scanning to the exact place I don’t want anyone to go, I find Jack Porter’s large form. He is at least fifty yards from where I stand, but I know he’s found it. The storm shelter. I watch, with a lethal shot pointed at his head, as he waves. Then the bane of my fucking existence is running toward him. Chase Motherfucking Davis.

Goddammit!

How the fuck did they find this place? Seething anger rips through my body and tears along the edges of my skin. I grind down on my teeth as I see Jack Porter scatter the leaves I have used to hide my storm shelter. They’re going to find her. A gunshot rings out, the lock probably blasted into pieces. I watch in sick fascination as they open the latch, and Jack’s frame followed by Chase’s disappear down the stairs. Seeing Thomas and the gray haired guy running across the clearing, I run back down the opposite side of the mountain.

The sound of a gunshot pierces the silence of my tiny cell. I wake with a start, pull my knees into my chest, and press as far as I can against the cold cinderblock. There isn’t anywhere else I can go.

“Get away from the door, we’re coming in,” a man’s muffled voice says through the door. Then, another gunshot.

I scream and cower into the corner, my shackles cutting painfully into my wrists and ankles. I can hear sounds in the dark until the light blazes like the sun into the room. I shut my eyes and hide my face.

“Baby, oh my God, Gillian!” The voice is Chase’s, but I don’t believe it. He didn’t come for me. It’s a trick. My mind is playing tricks on me. I’ll throw my arms around him, and I’ll wake up, and it will be Danny all over again, groping me, touching me, kissing me. Violent sobs wrack my frame as I hold onto my knees.

Hands are pulling at the blanket covering me then at my shackled hands. “No, no, don’t touch me!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Please God, someone hear me. Get him off me. “Chase!” I yell as loud as I can, hoping anyone, someone, will hear me.

“It’s me, Gillian. Baby, it’s Chase.” Fingers are on my face, light caresses, much softer than Daniel has touched me. “I’m here. We got you.” He presses his forehead against mine and the scent of sandalwood and citrus enters my nostrils. I open my eyes and stare into the stunning Caribbean blue eyes. Tears fill those ocean-colored orbs and fall down the sides of his cheeks.

“Chase,” I croak, my gaze cataloging every feature, every nuance. “You came,” I whisper, tears pouring down my cheeks. His hands gently clasp my battered face, his thumbs swiping along the apples of my cheekbones.

“What did he do to you?” His voice is hoarse, full of emotion.

I shake my head and watch as he does his own examination. His thumbs pet my busted lips, the bruises over my face. Based on the way his jaw gets tighter, I know it’s bad. The fact that I can barely feel the pain anymore, due to being so cold, I know I’m in a state of severe shock.

A man I don’t recognize comes over to me. “I’m Agent Brennen, Mrs. Davis.”
Mrs. Davis
. He called me Mrs. Davis. More tears slide down my cheeks. “I’ve got a medical chopper on its way. We have to get you out of these chains. Can you stand?” Chase stands close helping me up. The chains shriek along the pulley system.

“What the fuck is this?” Chase traces a hand up the thick, rusted, iron chains attached to my wrists and feet. I stand barefoot in the pasty vomit, which hasn’t even completely dried from last night, but I could care less. He is here. Chase found me. “I want her out of here now.” His tone is a deep protective growl.

Jack comes over and puts a hand on my shoulder. I cower into Chase. “Let me see your wrist.” Chase grabs my hand and holds it out. “I found this in that closet at the top of the stairs.” He pushes a heavy looking metal key into the lock at my wrist and turns. The shackle drops to the ground with a bang. I jump at the noise but allow Chase to maneuver my other hand to get that bond off. Jack pushes aside the toile of the bottom half of my wedding dress and unhooks the remaining bands. I wince as each one is removed.

The big bodyguard breathes in deep. “She’s bleeding around each ankle and wrist. The wounds on her ankles are showing signs of advanced infection,” he says but I can barely hear him. “Get her out of here.”

Instantly, the world turns upside down. Lights and sounds move in a swirl in a dizzying motion through my vision. The light gets brighter as I am carried up what I think are a set of stairs. Ice-cold air hits the bare arms of my skin, and I shiver, my teeth chattering automatically. A whirring sound gets louder and louder, and I’m bounced up and down. I hold on tight to Chase, focus on his scent, his heartbeat and his warmth. Nothing can touch me if I am with him. Just him. Surrounded by his love.

Vaguely, I realize I am being laid down, and a woman and man are barking orders. The whirring sound is so loud, and I’m beyond freezing. So cold. Only one point on my body is warm, and that’s my hand, because Chase holds it tight, never letting me go.

“You found me,” I say, trying to get my eyes to stop rolling around.

“I’ll always find you and bring you back to me,” he promises, his lips pressing down against my cracked lips in a feather-light touch. For the first time in four days, I close my eyes and am blessedly free. Chase has me, and I know he will never let me go.

B
eep
. Beep. Beep.

“
C
hase
, baby, turn off the alarm,” I mumble. Turning my head, I feel scratchy linen against the tender skin of my cheek. “Ouch, burns,” I turn my head to the other side and feel the same gritty fabric, only this time, it’s coupled with a zing of pain which makes me open my eyes. The room is fuzzy, hazy even as I attempt to adjust to my surroundings. White. Everything is white. I scan the room while opening and closing my eyes. The process takes a great deal of effort because my eyelids feel like they have tiny chains weighing down each one making it almost impossible to keep them open.

Finally, I turn my head all the way to the right and find the most beautiful face known to mankind. Eyes so blue I can swim in them, and I do, often. A slow, painful smile slips across my face as I take in every feature. His thick, coffee-colored hair is a mess of layers falling along the sides of his temples and forehead. A testament to how many times he’s likely brushed his fingers through it or given it a good tugging. He’s sporting a few days beard growth, more than I’ve ever seen. Makes him look more rugged and dangerous. I quite like it. Instead of the ever-present tick in his jaw he’s sporting a huge, toothy grin.

It takes me a moment, but I notice that I’m holding his hand. The happiness I see in his eyes and the strength with which he holds my hand tells me everything I need to know. I’m safe and I’m home.

“How do you feel?” he asks and leans a hip on the bed. While I take stock of my body, he places kisses all over my palm. He closes his eyes, pressing my hand to his cheek. I push back appreciating the gentle caress.

I point my toes and rivers of tension and a burning sensation trail up my legs. Sucking in a breath, I let the air flow between my teeth until the pain subsides. Squeezing my hands into fists, I find I can barely lift my own arms. It’s as if I’m lying in quicksand, my body having succumbed completely to the pressure and ache deep within my bones. “I’ll survive. Seeing you, though, makes it better.” His eyebrows furrow, but I look away. Scanning the room, I see all the flowers and cards. Three sets of perfect white daisies perch prettily along the window, proving my soul sisters have been here.

Seeing those flowers is when it all comes crashing down. “Oh my God, are the girls okay? Did he hurt them?”

Chase shakes his head and leans forward, cupping my cheeks so softly I can barely tell they are there. “No, Baby, no. They’re all fine. Phillip, too.”

His eyes search mine. Then it hits me. Tears fall unchecked down my cheeks. “What’s the matter? Gillian? Are you in pain?” His face twists into a grimace. “I’ll get the doctor.” He moves to stand, but I hold him in place.

“Chase, your mom. I’m so sorry…” I choke out the rest of what I need to say. “It’s m-my f-fault,” I shudder as tears fall in a deluge of sorrow.

“No, no, no, nuh-uh. Do not even start with that. You did nothing wrong. It’s that sick fuck who did all of this.” Chase kisses my forehead and whispers against it. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m just so thankful, so happy to have you home. Gillian, God…I’m nothing without you.”

I hold his cheeks as he places kisses all over my face. I know it’s bruised, but the meds they’ve got me on are masking any serious pain. “I thought I’d never see you again.” I admit, the grief and residual fear cropping up to dig gnarly claws into my psyche.

“Baby, there’s nothing that could ever keep me from you. Don’t you know that by now?” I smile and he wipes away my tears because I do know that. He’s proven more than once that he’ll do anything, pay any price to take care of me. Only none of us were prepared for the stalker to be my ex-boyfriend, Daniel McBride. It never once dawned on me that he could have a nefarious and demented side to him. During our relationship, he’d been nothing but kind, generous and sweet. Treated me like a queen. Always. Even helped me get that restraining order against Justin when I needed one.

Justin. Another pawn in Danny’s game. Made me wonder if he did have something to do with Justin’s death. I’d bet money on it. Justin was not the type of man to take his own life, especially without leaving some type of manifesto or legacy behind. Plus, the cops found no suicide note.

“How long have I been out?” I push into the mattress and try to sit up. My muscles ache and lock in protest.

“Two days.” Chase’s voice is heavy, as if he’s been carrying around an anvil the last couple days. I close my eyes and try not to let that destroy the warm feeling I have being here, safe, and with the man I love. The man I’m meant to love.

“You’ve been worried.” It’s a rhetorical statement. I can see the shadows underneath his eyes, the gray pallor to his usually tanned skin, and the weight he’s lost. At least ten pounds in the past week. Though I’m absolutely certain I look no better. Before the wedding, I’d lost a lot of weight. Worrying about Phillip, then Bree, and the attack by Justin, and planning our wedding. Add abduction to that list, and you’ve got a woman who’s normally a curvy, size eight who’s now probably a size two.

“I’m just elated you’re back, that you’re awake and on the mend.”

I scooch as much as I can to the side even though my limbs and muscles protest aggressively, sending lightning bolts of pain throughout my body. Clenching my teeth, I move to the side. “Get in. I can feel my eyes getting heavy, and you look dead on your feet.”

“No, you need your space to rest.”

“I need no such thing from you. Believe me, I’ll rest far better if you’re holding me.” I quirk a brow but the drugs they’ve got me on make me slur my words. I’m going down fast. Chase kicks off his shoes and, with great care, centers his body on the space I’ve offered. “I wish you had your shirt off.” I mutter into his polo shirt. He chuckles and runs his fingers through my hair. It’s heavenly. With measured movements he massages my scalp with the pads of his fingers, avoiding the bumps that must surely be there, then trails his hands out, allowing the curls to fall through his fingers. Chase does this over and over. Sandalwood and citrus fill my nostrils reminding me of the safest place in the world. Chase’s arms. I snuggle my face in and let out a deep sigh.

“I love you, Chase,” I whisper.

“I love you, more,” he says my own words back to me, and I know from here on out, I’m going to be okay.

She’s so beautiful. Even with black eyes and swollen cheeks I can hardly catch my breath looking at her. Little puffs of air slip from her split lips, and I want so badly to kiss her, ravage her, prove she’s mine. That caveman inside, the one I try to curb for her sake is roaring with the need to mark and possess. Only my marks wouldn’t need bandages or medication. That piece of shit put his hands on her. Her chest was bruised…again by an attacker. Did he violate her?

The team did a rape kit when she was unconscious and didn’t find semen or bruising, so I have to hope his abuse never got that far. Her body, though, is covered from head to toe in bruises. The shackles at her ankles and wrists cut deep grooves into the tender flesh. Dr. Dutera has her on a hoard of antibiotics, anti-fungals, and a host of other drugs. It’s a miracle she didn’t sustain any broken bones. I’m thankful beyond measure that she isn’t more damaged. She will heal from this, and if he didn’t violate her, the healing process will progress more smoothly.

I shift the blanket and scan her form from head to toe. Aside from the bruises, cuts, and scrapes she’s thin. Sufferably so. I can feel every rib as I hold her close. The Gillian I met at my hotel bar in Chicago was filled to the brim with curves. She’ll need a new wardrobe although not for long. I plan to stuff her full of food. It’s obvious from how much weight she lost she wasn’t eating much if anything at all while abducted. Probably was afraid to. Can’t blame her. If I’d been in her shoes, I wouldn’t have either. A shiver runs through me, and I pull the blanket tighter around us both and allow her warmth to seep into me. Gillian is back. She’s here, and I have her in my arms. There is nothing and no one who will get between us again. I’ll hire a team of bodyguards to protect her. If I ever let her out of my sight.

I need to call Dana. She needs to get my second-in-command on point for the foreseeable future. I make a mental note to call her later. Right now, I’m perfectly content to hold my girl, feel her breath on my chest, the warmth of her body against mine.

Had anyone told me a year ago that I’d meet the woman I was meant to spend forever with, I’d have laughed in their face. When Megan fucked Coop on the night of our wedding over ten years ago, I never believed I’d get this second chance. No, second chance isn’t right. Perhaps finding Gillian was the way it was always supposed to be. It certainly feels that way. When I’m with her, I can be me. She doesn’t have any expectations other than to give her my time. The only thing she’s ever wanted from me is
me
. And I want to give her everything in return, yet she seems to want nothing. That’s why the bastard is obsessed with her. I can relate. He caught a glimpse of what it was like to be loved by this woman. Justin was sucked in, too. Only their volatile ways demolished any prospective life she could have had with them. Their loss is my gain.

My entire empire has been built on devastating losses and extraordinary gains. It’s the way of the world. And in this, too, I profited at the highest possible return on investment. I won Gillian. She’s mine. I’d willingly give my life for her, and I suspect she would for me in return. Above all else, it’s her I need. Not money or material things, not the power that comes with doing what I do…just her. I’d give it all away to ensure our happiness. The truth is, I do have considerable power and wealth. All of which I will use to ensure that nothing ever happens to her again. I close my eyes and let out a calming breath, pulling Gillian closer to my chest, burying my lips in the hair at the crown of her head.

I enter the bridal room at a full run and stop cold when I see the back of my mother’s head. Her hair is pulled up tight into a bun, but she’s not moving. Her hands lay limp along the sides of the wheelchair. Blood trickles down the slope of her hand, drops fall from her index fingers into a puddle on the floor.

No. God, no.

The room has been tossed. The bed a jumble of sheets with no coverlet. Chairs are askew on the ground, makeup, hair accessories, jewelry all scattered on the ornate rug. There’s been a mighty struggle. Gillian is not here. Step by step I take a wide berth around my mother’s still form. No movement, not even a twitch, a moan, groan, just silence. Absence of sound, deafening quiet.

I swallow the bile as the metallic scent of blood enters my nostrils. My mother’s blood. It’s as if time stops. I can hear the blood as it drip, drip, drips onto the floor. And that’s when I see her. Her mouth is open in a scream, eyes rolled back into her head. A gaping hole at the front of her neck gives a glaring look into the back of her throat. Her dress is stained crimson like a disgusting bloody bib down the front of her body.

She’s dead and Gillian is gone.

“Baby, wake up,” I feel a hand on my sternum. I jolt to a seated position holding her body to me. Gillian tenses as I come back to the here and now. “It was a dream. You were dreaming.” Her fiery hair comes into focus, and then her emerald eyes. Christ, I’ve missed those eyes. Without thinking, I crush her mouth to mine and take long draws from her lips. If she’s in pain, she doesn’t mention it or push away. If anything, she’s pressing harder, taking the kiss further by licking the seam of my lips. I open for her. Always for her.

Gillian’s little tongue enters my mouth, and I groan. I clasp her head in one hand, tip it to the side and stake my claim. My fucking woman. Her lips are for me and me alone. She moans into my mouth and presses her body more fully into my chest. I can feel her pert nipples grate along my skin and my dick comes to life. It has been soft and unfeeling for days. With one press of her lips, it awakens as if it’s been taking a week-long nap.

Rubbing my lips across hers, I share it all. The fear, the grief, the gut-wrenching need for her in my life. The fact that I spent four days without her, a piece of me dying every second that she was gone. She takes it all and gives back joy, love, and a bright future to rejoice in. And I do, rejoice in all that is her as her lips control mine. Gillian is not the type of woman who just kisses you. With every touch of her mouth she shares her past. With every whisper of her breath she claims the present. With every ounce of her being she gives me her future. It’s all in her kiss.

I pull away gasping for air when the metallic taste of her blood registers. “Shit, I’ve busted open your lip.” I press the pad of my thumb against the swollen tissue. Regret is harsh, a cold bucket of water thrown over me.

“Worth it,” she licks my thumb and waggles her eyebrows.

“Saucy little vixen,” I rub my forehead against hers, trying to express what I’m unable to with words. “When can I go home?” she asks on a sigh.