Cut to the Chase (20 page)

L
ying in Chase's arms, Erin couldn't imagine her world without him in it. Which was definitely not the case a month ago. Chase Montclair had just been a name then, the invisible employer she hadn't met until the day he had summoned her to his office. And what a first meeting that was! She had experienced a thousand emotions at once during that ten-minute encounter: intrigue, frustration, anger, but mostly…intense, unrelenting attraction.

Sitting behind his desk, he had seemed regal, above her in every way. He had commanded the room, her attention, from the start, and as she looked at his firm hands now grasping her from behind in the luxurious comfort of their king-sized bed, it appeared that he hadn't lost interest in her. Erin still felt like any minute now, she was going to wake up from the beautiful dream she was having, the one where the man cherishes his woman and loves her without conditions. And God knows there were plenty of reasons to make him pause and reconsider whether she was worth the trouble. The stalker she had brought into his life would have made any sane man want to leave and cut ties completely.

Maybe it was his love for her that kept him from bolting in the opposite direction…or maybe it was because he too had a sordid past, one that still had the ability to haunt him. Until recently, Chase had believed that he had inadvertently killed his unborn child when Gabrielle chased him into a stairwell and fell down a flight of steps. But it wasn't his fault that she had been running and miscarried as a result. And it definitely wasn't his fault that he had left her so she could continue to screw another man in the bed they had shared.

And now, Gabrielle was dead. Although it was painful to think of Chase with any other woman, it didn't bring Erin any comfort or joy to know that she herself may have had a hand in Gabrielle's passing. If it wasn't for Erin, Gabrielle might still be alive, modeling expensive lingerie and enjoying the life she had rebuilt in California. Erin couldn't help but feel sorry for the people Gabrielle had left behind, the parents who would grieve for their daughter and forever question why their baby would want to kill herself. No parent should have to experience such pain.

Erin had been lost in thought when she felt Chase squeeze her tight and kiss the nape of her neck. She wanted to stay just like this, forever in his arms in this beautiful bed where they could shut out the rest of the world. But that wasn't realistic or fair to the two people back in New York who had selflessly put their lives on hold. It was time to go home and confront the problem head on.

“Coffee on the balcony?” he asked, nuzzling closer.

He was making the task of broaching the subject of leaving their island getaway and returning to a city that was home to her worst nightmare very difficult. Later. This afternoon, she would tell him that it was time to leave paradise. “I would love some,” she said.

Chase gave her a quick kiss and hopped out of bed. She watched him dress in a pair of khaki shorts and a navy-blue shirt before he scooted off toward the kitchen to prepare their daily dose of caffeine. Sighing, Erin swung her legs around and stood. She suddenly felt lightheaded and reached for the nightstand to steady herself. The room was still spinning when she opened her eyes, which caused her to grow nauseous. Erin sat back down on the bed and took a few deep breaths.

After a minute or so, she rose slowly from the bed and this time the room remained intact, no longer swirling around in many different directions. She walked into the bathroom and took a long hard look at herself in the mirror…and frowned at her reflection. Although her skin had tanned beautifully and her blond locks had lightened due to many hours in the sun, her eyes, her entire body for that matter, felt tired.

Pissed that she looked worn and drained, Erin tied her hair up into a bun and washed her face, scrubbing the sleep and exhaustion away. Maybe she was coming down with something? She was generally a healthy person, though a sinus infection plagued her from time to time. Although she and sinus infections had become well acquainted over the years, she never could get a handle on them or when they were about to take hold, leaving her incapacitated for a few days with a high fever, a clogged head and feeling…lightheaded. Ugh. She'd forgotten about that last endearing symptom. That had to be it. She was getting one of her dreaded sinus infections and she was on a secluded island with no antibiotics.

Between her insatiable need to stop hiding so she could confront her own problems and a sinus infection that could land her in the hospital, as her past had proved on more than one occasion, Erin determined that it was definitely time to go home.

S
cott was not a tech geek by any stretch of the imagination. But he was resourceful, and this quality, which had evolved beautifully over the years, was going to point Mia and those she was helping in an entirely different direction.

Scott wondered what Mia had thought of his flowers and the few simple words that had accompanied them. He had meant what he had said. He was thinking of her. All the time, in fact. He had to have her soon or he was going to react on impulse rather than calculated need.

Scott had never found it necessary to implement spoofing. Sending a text only to have a different phone number than the one you were texting from appear seemed like a waste of time and energy. According to the internet, most people spoofed to fuck with their friends, to catch a cheating spouse or to just be a dick to whomever they chose to victimize. But Scott wasn't intending to use it for recreational purposes. No, he was resorting to such a technique to shed himself of the tail who had been following him, giving him the freedom he needed to take care of business.

This new break in the case would surely bring Montclair and his Whore back home to New York. Any lead they had been following would be considered worthless, prompting them to regroup and reassess. Scott predicted that they would be in a state of shock at first. Erin Whitley would perseverate on how she had missed the signs, how she had been so naïve and stupid. Mia would question her own profiling skills for a bit before conceding, and Montclair and Paul would just be angry and ready to kill. All attention would be lifted from him and onto the Whore's old friend from college, leaving the two women vulnerable and the men blinded with rage.

M
ia didn't have a moment to breathe that day, let alone have a chance to track down the leader of the Sunbeam Club and thank her for the flowers that had been sent to her the day before. Between circle time, recess, and putting their alphabet skills to the test, Mia's time had been consumed by her eager-to-learn kindergarteners. And she loved it all. Mia never grew tired of watching her students' progress, how one day they might have struggled with a concept and the next day, a lightbulb switched on and they were off and running with newfound knowledge. Kindergarten set the stage for all the years to come, making her job all the more critical. She wanted her students to leave for first grade embracing school, not dreading it. To achieve that, it took solid lesson planning and a whole lot of creativity to keep her youngsters interested and engaged.

The moment the last school bus pulled away from the lot, Mia ran into the building in search of Deb Watkins. Deb was nearing retirement, which was difficult for Mia to comprehend. She still had such spunk and energy to expend on her second-grade class that it was hard to picture Deb calling it a day and retiring from the profession. Despite her impending retirement, Deb continued to follow through with her duties with vigor, which included heading up the school's Sunbeam Club. Thanks to Deb, every staff birthday, every newborn baby, every marriage announcement, every loss was recognized with flowers, fruit or candy. The club was a way to make the school function more like a family than a place of business, which was difficult to do in this day and age.

Mia found Deb in her classroom, sitting behind her computer and inputting what looked to be grades into the online grade book. Mia had concluded earlier that there was no way she was going to avoid either making herself or Deb feel embarrassed, so it was best just to get it over with. Deb was either going to confirm that the flowers had come from the Sunbeam Club, making Mia feel relieved but embarrassed for even asking, or Deb was going to deny sending the flowers, making the Sunbeam leader feel like she hadn't done her job.

Deep down, Mia knew it was going to be the latter. And as Deb apologized profusely over not knowing about Mia's loss and said that if she would have been informed, she would have made sure that the school had shared in her grief, Mia felt her stomach churn. There was only one other person in the school who knew about Rose, and that was the principal. It took almost fifteen minutes to console Deb and ensure her that she was not to blame before Mia was free to seek out her principal.

A father of four teenagers, Principal Mark Bowen was a kind and fair man who always put children first. Mia didn't know how he juggled such a rich home life and a job he clearly loved, but he did it and did it well. A parent had just left his office when Mia appeared in the doorway.

He looked up from his computer and smiled. “Hi, Mia. Come on in,” he said, making time for her, as he did for all his teachers. She walked in and took a seat.

As she did with Deb, Mia just came out and asked him if he had told anyone about the funeral she had attended on Monday, because flowers were sent to the school to acknowledge her loss.

“No, Mia. If I was supposed to, then I apologize. But considering…things, how private you are about personal matters, I didn't share that information.”

Mr. Bowen was the only person in the school who knew about her past. Her teaching certificate, the piece of paper that allowed her to teach in the state of New York, contained her full name. In her interview, she had decided to be honest with her prospective employer about the name discrepancy and why she'd had it legally changed to Mia Ryan.

Mia felt terrible, as if she were questioning his integrity. But she had to be certain before she made the dreaded phone call to Paul. “I'm sorry, Mr. Bowen. I just wanted to know who to thank for the flowers,” Mia said, standing up. “But I appreciate your discretion.”

Mr. Bowen also stood but before dismissing her, he said, “Between fighting the flu and the loss of a loved one, you definitely had a tough week. How are you holding up?”

Mia felt a twinge of guilt as he mentioned her made-up illness. She didn't like lying to him about having the flu last week, but under the circumstances, it was necessary. “It's great to be back to work. I missed my students so much,” she said, meaning every word.

Mr. Bowen smiled. “That's refreshing…and not something I hear every day,” he said. “Well, if you need a few days to catch up, or if you need an extension on submitting your end-of-the-marking-period grades, just let me know.”

Mia was so grateful to have such an understanding boss. She thanked him and left for her classroom. Mia had passed several of her colleagues on the way, all of whom looked to be in a rush. Practically every teacher in her hallway had children of their own. They were most likely on their ways to clock out of one job, just to clock back in to their most important job: being parents.

Until recently, Mia didn't know if parenthood was in her future. She had shunned all opportunities for companionship and love for so long…until last night. Mia thought about the beautiful night she had spent with Paul and as much as she wanted to dwell on the sweet words he had whispered as he claimed her again and again, she knew that he was waiting for her phone call.

Mia walked into her classroom and shut the door behind her for privacy. She was just about to dial Paul when she received a text:
“Your beauty, your purity, shall be cherished. I am waiting for you, Mia, my Angel.”

Mia had been in denial, a foolish state to be in when lives were at stake. It was unlike her not to accept what was fact, what was staring her right in the face. She looked down at the text once more and felt the bile rise in her throat. She was now, unequivocally, a target.

Mia dialed Paul's number and waited for him to pick up. She heard a cell phone ring just outside her classroom door and turned toward the sound. Paul was just on the other side, peering through the six-inch-wide glass panel on the door. Mia rushed over, swung the door open, and flew into his arms.

He shuffled her into her classroom and kicked the door closed behind them. “What's wrong, Mia? Tell me,” he urged, stroking her hair.

She didn't want to cry. She definitely didn't want to tell him she was scared. Paul was already worried about his sister. Now two women in his life were being held captive in a sense by a very sick son-of-a-bitch. But she didn't want to lie either.

With her phone still in her hand, she retrieved the text and showed it to Paul. And that was the point when he lost it for a reason she hadn't seen coming.

A
lthough the fatigue remained, Erin didn't feel any worse than when she woke up that morning. There were still no signs of a fever or the beginnings of a clog-filled head, but sinus infections had a way of sneaking up on her when she thought she was in the clear. Erin didn't want to spoil their morning and, as it turned out, the majority of the afternoon by telling Chase that she wanted to go back to New York, but now it was time.

She peeled off her bikini, showered, and threw on a sundress for dinner. In the short time that they had been on the island, it had already become a ritual for Chase and her to take a dip in the ocean, shower together, which often turned hot and deliciously heavy, and enjoy a dinner prepared by Chase and, much to her surprise, sous chef Andrew.

But today, Erin had taken her shower alone. Chase had received a phone call just as he was about to join her and it was apparent that he had to take the call. From his serious expression at the onset of the call, Erin gathered that something had happened. He had been away from the office for over two weeks and although his company ran like a well-oiled machine and could be put on autopilot for a sufficient amount of time, it was understandable that some things still required his and only his undivided attention. Erin was overwhelmed by his sacrifice, how he had put his life, the career that meant so much to him, on the back burner for her.

Fresh from the shower and feeling more like herself, though not completely, she entered the kitchen and froze at the troubling sight. Chase was gripping the edge of the counter top as he ended the conversation with whomever was on the other line. Andrew was on his cell phone and from the looks of it, scrolling for god knows what. Both men, who were typically more reserved than most, never appearing rattled, looked shaken and besieged by fear.

“What happened?” she asked, looking from one man to the next.

Andrew didn't look up from his phone and continued with whatever he was doing. Chase on the other hand walked over to her and though she felt that he was withholding a few details, he told her enough so she could share their fury and horror.

Erin's head was spinning. Mia was in danger because of her. Erin had woken up this morning knowing that it was time to go home. Now there was no doubt, nowhere else she wanted to be than with Mia. “What time do we leave?” she asked.

“Andrew will leave as soon as my jet is cleared for takeoff,” Chase said, reaching for her. “He's checking the weather conditions now.”

Erin stepped back, thwarting his attempt to hold her. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “We are all going home.”

Chase's square jaw clenched, as if he was doing his damnedest to not get demanding or angry. “It's not safe for you, Erin. I won't risk it.”

“And I refuse to let Mia go through this alone. I did this, Chase. I put Andrew's niece in jeopardy,” she said, her voice escalating, gaining Andrew's attention.

Chase pulled her into his arms, which made her anxiety lessen, though only slightly. “You told me not to run, remember?” she whispered.

“That's not what I meant and you know it, Erin. I need you safe and far away from him,” he said, his voice gentler and more controlled.

“You can keep me safe. Hire as many men as Andrew and you deem necessary. I won't even balk at having an entourage,” she said, wiggling from his embrace. “Because we are going home…all of us.”

Andrew had never been so scared. All his years of service, when his life had been constantly at risk, when at any moment he could have been gunned down while he protected another, paled in comparison to how frightened he was that his only niece had been targeted. Shortly after takeoff, Andrew received a call from Mia and though he was grateful to hear her voice, she sounded different, as if for the first time in her life, she was holding out on him.

“I've missed you, honey,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, just a little pissed off is all.” An attempt at levity during grim circumstances wasn't too uncommon for his niece, but even now her voice sounded strained. As if she was trying too hard to not let on that she was, as she should be, terrified of the psychopath who was planning diabolical things for her.

“Well, we should be landing in New York in about an hour or so. We'll meet you at Chase's penthouse. We have much to discuss, with our security detail being top priority.”

“We?” she asked.

“Yes, Chase and Erin are with me. Erin refused to stay, especially when she heard what happened to you.” Andrew heard Mia sigh. “We need to assign more security to you and Erin. I have already put some calls in and can have men in place as quick as tonight.”

“Is Erin afraid of anything?” Mia asked, her voice filled with admiration. “If the roles were reversed, I don't think I would be flying back into the lion's den.”

“Yes, you would,” he said, his tone serious and absolute. “Erin Whitley doesn't run from her problems…and neither do you.”