Magic Moment (5 page)

“Please, no. No,” she cried.

Her back pressed against his chest, Chase lifted her slight form. She was practically weightless. Her feet kicked at air. Sensing she was about to scream, his hand clamped over her mouth.

“Laura, damn it,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

She wrestled and attempted to bite the palm covering her mouth. Chase held her tight, dragging her down the steps and back into the cabin. His right foot pushed the door closed. His arms grasped tightly around her, he let her struggle. Being the stronger of the two, he waited until she expelled all her energy and ceased thrashing. Moaning, she slumped against him.

“That’s my girl.” Now he could tend to her injuries and get some answers. All was calm. Chase sighed, ready to take his hand from her mouth.

“Ah, damn it!” he yelped, feeling her sharp, well-manicured nails dig into his bare wrist.

Laura wiggled and twisted. She screamed against his palm, squirming frantically while her nails dug into his exposed skin, piercing his flesh. Chase maintained his grip despite the pain. Laura’s free hand jolted upwards punching him hard in the same eye she had attacked previously.

“Bitch!” The ache pulsing through his head, he dropped her to the floor.

She landed on her buttocks and rolled over. On hands and knees, she scurried forward. She was inches from the door. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her golden hair.

“Ouch!” She cried out.

Clamping an arm around her waist, he lifted her lithe form. With a quick swing, he scooped her up and dropped her on the bed. Laura landed face down, arms and legs sprawled hap-hazardously. She turned her face, offering her uninjured cheek. Chase belly-flopped on top of her. His legs straddled her, and his hands pinned hers to the mattress. Her body shook again with sobs.

“Oh, damn it,” he groaned.

Her cries crushed his insides. Not knowing what else to do, he pressed his coarse, unshaven cheek against her soft one. Her tears streamed down her face, dripping onto his, stinging his skin.

As a little boy, he had often found his mother weeping in her bedroom. Whenever he would ask what had made her sad, she replied that
sometimes a woman just needed to cry
.

So Chase let Laura cry.

He held her, cheeks pressed, fingers entwined.

“I-I c-can’t fight anymore. Please be quick and get it over with,” she muttered.

“Get what over with?”

“Whatever you plan to do before you kill me.”

“What the hell — ” Chase closed his eyes, easing his body from hers. His words, the ones he’d spoken to Ron and his partner rushed back, stinging Chase’s ears. With a silent curse, he berated himself. He had aimed at avoiding any conflict or confrontation. He had wanted to be rid of them quickly. In doing so, he now realized, Laura assumed he was equally depraved. He had only succeeded in terrifying her more.

“Laura, listen to me. I swear. I’m not here to hurt you,” he said softly. Their fingers still locked, he pulled her up. They sat on the bed. Pressing her back to his chest, his arms cradled her.

“I said what I did to get those men off the boat. I want to help you.” He dug inside his pocket and pressed the knife into her soft palm. “You have a weapon. If you feel I’m about to hurt you, use it.” He closed her fingers around the instrument, hoping she was reassured enough not to take him up on the offer.

“You have a gun,” she said, her tone accusing.

An arm still draped around her, he reached behind him with the other and slid the gun from his waistband.

“Hold out your hand.”

She opened her free hand. He pulled out the weapon’s magazine and dropped it in her hand.

“You’ve been through hell,” he said, his tone mirroring compassion. “You’re frightened. If I intended to hurt you, would I give you a weapon? Bag Lou’s knife for evidence?”

“You know his name.”

“I never set eyes on the man before tonight. I asked his name and the jackass gave it to me. When we’re ready, we can track him down and see him punished.”

She remained pressed against his chest, nestled securely in his embrace. Neither said a word. Chase held her close, patiently waiting, prepared for her to make the first move.

“When they were finished, they were going to kill me,” she whispered, breaking the silence.

Her pitiful voice broke his heart. “No one will hurt you. I promise.”

“Your father.”

“They tossed his name out to justify breaking into my boat. My father’s a bragger, not a murderer.” Chase kept his cheek pressed to hers, hoping the gesture offered comfort and assurance. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t jerk from him.

“Laura, I’m in the dark. I was expecting a quiet night on my boat and walked into hell.” He paused, and waited. “Tell me how I can help you.”

There was a long silence. “I hurt all over.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit. Okay?” His tone sought her approval.

He remained quiet, not moving while Laura took a few minutes mulling his offer.

“Okay.”

“Lie down. Hold the knife if you’re scared,” he added gently.

He eased off the bed, walked to the desk, and grabbed the metal box along with a water bottle. After walking back to the bed, he sat down, facing her. She was on her back, head deep into the pillows. Blood from the cut on her chin had dripped and pasted itself on her neck. Dry crimson dotted her blond hair. Her wary stare continued. He opened the kit and took out a brown jar and a stack of square white gauze pads. Her right fist tightly gripped the knife, her other the revolver’s magazine.

He inspected the contusions. Her right eye was surrounded by a twinge of blue. A purplish yellow bruise marked her cheek.

“This will sting a little.” With a light touch, he dabbed the saturated pad on the wounded area.

Laura flinched as the healing lotion touched its mark, but she didn’t whimper or protest. He turned his attention to the cut, running about an inch, along her jaw. He patted away blood remnants from her chin and neck, until all that remained was a pink line where the knife had met her flesh.

“Will I have a scar?” she asked timidly.

He took a smaller clear jar from the kit. Twisting the cap off, a small brush, similar to a child’s watercolor brush was inside. He dipped the brush in the liquid and stroked along the injured jaw area.

“No scar. This stuff will take care of that.”

Next, he soothed the thin slices around her ankles and wiped away the caked blood. She was silent, her eyes fixed on his every gesture.

Chase’s demeanor turned somber. “Laura, are those the only places where you’re hurt? Do I need to take you to a hospital? I will.” He didn’t want to, unsure how to explain to personnel who would undoubtedly want information. They would want to call the police, which would put Chase in an uncomfortable position. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened tonight without mentioning his father’s name. Police, justifiably so, were suspicious people. They might not believe Chase had just happened to show up. Their natural instincts would suspect he knew more than he was telling.

But as he stared at Laura, nothing seemed more important than her welfare.

“No hospital. I don’t want to go. I don’t need to go,” she repeated hurriedly.

“I saw Lou slide a knife under your slip.”

She lowered her eyes, and his gaze followed. Several red stains smeared the garment’s lap area.

Chase sucked in a breath. “Laura, how did he use that knife?” he asked calmly, although his heart pounded in his chest. Any sign of his boiling rage toward her attackers would alarm her more.

“Laura, what did Lou do with the knife?”

She remained silent.

“We can be at Atlantic City General in an hour,” he said. Magic Lake was too small a resort town for its own hospital. “You need to see a doctor.”

“No!” Laura shuddered. She pulled herself upright on the bed, shrinking back against the headboard.

“No, they’ll call the police.” Her words gushed. “I can’t go through the story. I don’t want anyone to know. No hospital. Please,” she pleaded. “I just want the whole thing to go away.”

“Were you cut anywhere else?” he asked softly, but firmly.

She hesitated before giving him an answer. “He cut my stomach.”

“Laura, I need to see.”

His eyes shifted to where her panties and hose had been thrown to the floor. She was bare beneath the slip.

She shook her head vigorously. “It’s a little cut.”

He understood her hesitation, her awkwardness. She might have still feared him, but her wound needed tending. “If you’re frightened, keep the knife in your hand.” He waited. “That cut may be deep, require stitches. If nothing else, it needs to be cleaned.”

Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. Chase waited patiently until her sobs stopped, and she slid back down.

“I need to lift your slip, to see. Okay?”

He waited for her permission, not wanting to move too quickly. Not only was she frightened, but embarrassed, too.

After a long silence, she nodded her consent.

With gentle ease, he lifted the material, tucking it around her midsection. He caught his breath sharply, eyeing the gash that started at her navel and ran about two inches downward. Blood streaked along her pelvis and down her thigh. Chase’s eyes tried avoiding contact with that special part of her, the area those two monsters had planned to assault and abuse.

He dabbed some antiseptic on a gauze pad. “Laura, I’m going to clean the cut.” He paused before receiving her muttered consent.

While he patted the wounded area, Chase was quiet, tending to the task with light, tender strokes. He couldn’t help but stare at her flat stomach, admire the soft curve of her hips, feel the smoothness of her skin. He seethed. What they had intended wasn’t about sex, or desire, but power, terror, and humiliation. Chase wished he had shot the sick bastards.

“Do I need stitches?” she asked shyly.

Her small voice brought him out of his musings.

“No. It’s superficial, like the cut on your chin.” He rearranged her slip. “Let me help you sit up.”

He arranged the bed pillows against the headboard and assisted her into a sitting position.

“Thank you.”

He smiled. Finished with his first aid, he arranged the supplies in the kit and shut the lid.

“What about you?” she asked, her voice timid. “Where I kicked you?”

Instinct brought his index finger to his inflicted left eye. It was sore and thumped a bit, but he saw fine out of it.

“I’ll live.” He made light of the damage, understanding the reason she had lashed out.

“How about where I dug my nails?”

He yanked his right sleeve up to his elbow. There were four red impressions on the inside of his wrist, two having drawn blood. He’d tend to them later.

“No big deal,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. That I called you a bitch,” he added quickly. “Reflex action when a woman beats me up.”

“Do they beat you up often?”

He gave her a half grin. “You’re the first.” He twisted off the cap and handed her the plastic water bottle. “Drink.”

“Thanks.” She took a small sip, followed by a long swallow.

“Drink more,” he ordered warmly. Her throat had to ache from crying and screaming.

Chase watched her take two small sips. Her green eyes, usually vibrant, were dull. Golden wisps of hair were matted with sweat and blood. Her face was bruised and swollen.

“Laura, did they rape you?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No. You got here … ” Her voice drifted off as she choked back more tears.

His fingers itched to touch her. His arms ached to hold her, comfort her. No woman deserved this brutal abuse.

While she sipped from the water bottle, his thoughts raced through his head like a marathon runner pounding the track to the finish line. His decision came quick.

“Laura, we have to leave.”

“Leave? I don’t even know where I’m at.” Laura’s eyes darted around. “I’m on a boat?”

He nodded his head. “My boat.”

She was silent for a moment. “Where?”

“Magic Lake Island.”

“The Jersey shore?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll drive me home?” she asked. “Back to Philly?”

He inhaled, then exhaled deeply. “We can’t return to the city.” Magic Lake Island was less than a two-hour drive to Philadelphia.

“Why not?”

He was silent for a moment. “Until we know why tonight happened, we shouldn’t go back.”

Ron and Lou might have gone for backup, more men who would return to silence her — and Chase, too. He needed more information, like how she got on his boat. And why? How his father’s name had gotten tossed around. She needed time to heal.

“I want to go home.” Her voice held an anxious edge. “I want to forget this happened. If you want to help me, you’ll take me home.”

Chase raked his fingers through his hair and let out another frustrated sigh. How could he make her understand? “Laura, Ron is still out there.”

“No. I want to go home. Back to my condo. Please, take me home.” She was insistent, her voice cracking. “Please.”

“Laura, listen.” He paused. She had been through a trauma. He had to remain calm, take his time with her. “They can find out where you live. They can hurt you again.”

Her green eyes widened and her lips trembled. “Ron — Ron knows where I live. I gave him my address when I got in the car,” she whispered. “If I go home, Ron might be waiting for me. If I can’t go back home, where will I go?”

Chase thought for a minute. His solution came quickly, like the decision to let Ron believe he knew what the hell was happening on his boat.

“Ever been to Chesapeake Bay?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Where on the Chesapeake? Why there?”

The person Chase trusted the most, the one person who never let him down, lived there. “Maryland. We can get there by boat. You’ll be safe.” He paused. “I need to think.” If he couldn’t think in Magic Lake, Sea Tower, Maryland was the next best place.

“I don’t have any clothes.” She lowered her eyes. “They cut off my underwear.”

“We’ll get you new clothes.”