Soul (15 page)

I pull her into my side. “That took a lot for you to let Carson go first, baby. I’m sure he appreciates it.” She nods into my side and holds on. The tears are over, but they are close enough to the surface that anything, even the wind blowing the wrong way could bring them on again.

Not dead. Of course those stupid little bitches would survive. Luck is a cold-hearted bitch and I’ve fucked her too many times to catch a break. Doesn’t matter though. The dancer and the hippie being unconscious up in the hospital brings the one thing I need back into my sights.

Gillian.

I watch with extreme pleasure as she enters the hospital. Felt like for-fucking-ever. She must have been really far away to take most of a full day to arrive. I wonder where the bastard took her. As far as I could tell from the security logs, they were only gone three days.

Using the same path I took the last time I was here, I weave through the hospital staff, my scrubs in place, a cap, a pair of fake glasses, and a stethoscope I got at a pawn shop around my neck. This getup works so well I could just as easily be invisible.

Making my way to the Intensive Care Unit, I take precautions to move at a smooth interval until I can see the group. One bright star of shiny, red hair is present amongst them. Fuck she’s beautiful. My body gravitates toward her. I need to be closer.

I’ve investigated every inch of this floor, and I know that near where they are is a supply closet. I head straight there, open the door and enter without anyone really noticing. Keeping the room dark, I prop open the door just a half-inch so that I can hear what they’re saying, but mostly so I can see her. If I could only take hold of her arm, feel her smooth skin along the palm of my hand, the rage within would simmer to a more bearable level. Right now, I can hardly control the intensity, the need to get to her, take her, claim her for my own.

As I watch, I bite down on my lip disgusted by how he’s holding my girl close, rubbing her shoulder. It should be me comforting her. Only me. Forever me.

That pregnant cunt sits near my girl and Gillian lays a hand on her belly. Her engagement ring to the fucker is still there, sparkling so bright I swear the thing is burning a fucking hole into my retina. Piece of shit. Had to buy her a showy ass, diamond ring, one that when she swelled up from the heat, I couldn’t rip it off her finger. I got his necklace though. I took that symbol, ran a chain around it and put it around my own neck. His failure, my gain. With my thumb and forefinger, I bring it out and rub it between the pads of my fingertips. It was on
her,
so I feel close to her when wearing it, but I know he gave it to her. Just the look in her eyes was enough when I touched it that first day she woke up in the storm cellar.

Gillian makes a surprised face and squeals in delight. “Baby, feel this,” she grabs Chase’s left hand and places it on the fat cunt’s stomach. He moves his hand into the right spot, and that’s when I notice it.

The room I’m in seems to get darker, my vision zeroing in on a small point on Chase’s hand. Sweat trickles around the hair at my nape and slides down the center of my back. As I look, it becomes clearer.

No! Fucking no! I want to scream. I want to take out a gun and shoot every last one of them. I grit my teeth together and pull my fists into my sides.

Feel it, Daniel. Let this feeling consume you, because when you have her back, she is going to pay dearly.
She made the ultimate betrayal.

I can’t stop staring. As Chase moves his hand, the tiny diamonds sparkle against the light like little icepicks being driven into my eyes.

Gillian’s hand comes up to Chase’s face and she leans in, pressing her nose against his and kisses him. Holds her mouth to his, her hand splayed along his cheek proving my worst nightmare in living color. A wedding band has been added to her engagement ring. Sitting on Chase’s finger is his own wedding band. The need to vomit is extreme but I push it down, way down to where that rage is being contained…barely.

She married him.

Left me here in San Francisco to rot, went away and married that rich fucker. How could she do that? I wanted to give her everything. Every. Fucking. Thing.

He had to have made her do it. Had to. Drugged her, used her, promised her money and fame. With every ounce of control, I stand and watch them. Even during this horrible time, they still find ways to touch one another, smile, kiss. Disgusting pig.

It’s not possible that she’s happy with him. He’s got her brainwashed. Made her believe that he was the one she was supposed to be with when all along it was me. Me, that perfect girl was supposed to marry. Me, that she was supposed to be with until the end of time, not some Matt Bomer look alike, suit-wearing, snob, who uses money and power to emasculate people, and manipulate them into believing they are important. That’s what he’s doing to my princess. He’s manipulated her into believing he’s the one.

Fuck! She’s so far gone she’s now willingly drinking the Kool-Aid. It’s going to take years to get her through this bastard’s twisted influence. But I’ll do it. No matter how long it takes to bring her mind back to who she truly loves. The one who will always be there for her.

I love her. She loves me. End of story.

Now I just have to find a way to make her mine.

S
omething ruffles
the hair alongside my temple. A scratchy material presses into the sensitive skin of my cheek as I blink open my eyes, staring into the sky, a clouded, grey blue expanse that I know well.

“
Cara Bonita
, what will Chase think when he finds out we’ve slept together?” she asks, her voice a hoarse, gravelly sound, one that reminds me of the times we’ve woken after a night screaming and cheering for a band we saw the night before.

I blink carefully and look at her. Just
look
at her. Even having undergone a traumatic experience, two full nights in a hospital, and carbon monoxide poisoning, she’s still incredibly beautiful; her face the picture of serenity.

Her fingers smooth through the hair at my scalp, the same way she’s done a million times before, soothing me even though she’s the one lying in the hospital bed. I smile remembering her quip, and as the tears fall, I lift up from where I was hunched over her bed asleep and curve my head toward the man sleeping curled up in a chair, one far too small for his large frame and respond, “He’ll say it was an exceptional experience sleeping with two women.”

Maria laughs but the jovial full sounds are not there, instead replaced with a wheezing, painful cough. She sits up and then groans clutching at her abdomen. I try to help settle her in a seated position, fluffing her pillows, tucking the blanket into her sides.

Once she seems comfortable, she holds my hand and tugs me to sit on the side of the bed next to her hip. “I tried, Gigi. I tried to get to her faster.” Tears fill her icy gaze making her eyes a darker blue. “Tell me, did she make it?”

I swallow and bring her hand to my face, nodding expeditiously. “She did, but she’s hurt bad. We won’t know her true condition for another few days the doctor said.”

Maria’s jaw tightens and her features turn hard. She’s turning on the façade. I’ve seen it before and I hate it. Hate that she feels she has to guard her emotions, her heart.

“Not with me.” I cup her cheek and slide my thumb over her brow. “No hiding from me.” The mask drops, her lips tremble, and the tears finally fall.

“I should have tried harder. Should have thought to go to her room sooner. Then there were these boards nailed into the window pane and I kicked and kicked,” her raspy voice gets worse, so I place my fingers over her lips.

Shaking my head, I stop her from hurting herself. “No, you saved her, Maria. You. She would have died had it not been for you!” I say the words with as much sincerity and force as I can muster in this small room, trying to be quiet, trying to keep our conversation private.

Maria brings her hand up to mine, the one cupping her cheek, and rubs into it like a cat would. “We’re going to take care of her. Whatever happens…we take care of
nuestra familia
.” Our family. Her eyes close and soon she’s fallen back asleep, the drugs pumping steadily through her.

I stand at the side of her bed, lean both arms on the edge and that’s when it happens. My shoulders shake, my spine curving down, and I fall to my knees. It’s too much. Every pore in me seems to feel pain, bone crushing, gut-wrenching, soul-aching pain. And it doesn’t stop. I clutch at my knees and let the tears overwhelm me. The room goes black and I go back to that place.

I’m curled into a fetal position as he stands over me. He kicks at my ribs again. The pain ricochets from my ribs, through my chest and out each nerve ending. I scream in pain, clutching at my abdomen trying to protect our child.

“You missed your fucking period? You say you’re pregnant,” he kicks at me again. “With whose baby you good for nothing whore!”

“Justin…” I beg. “It’s your baby. Ours…” I try again as he kicks me viciously again. The crack of one, possibly two ribs sounds unbearably loud. I clutch at the floor with my fingernails, trying to move, to crawl away but he doesn’t stop.

“We used protection. Every fucking time. That means you were fucking that study buddy. I knew this whole time…you said you loved me. And now, look at you!” he roars. ”Knocked up from a tiny, pencil dicked geek.” He pulls me out of my position, forces my arms wide where he holds them down with the weight of his knees. I try to kick and turn but the pain is so intense I’m losing my vision.

“You know I’m going to kill him with my bare hands. Strangle him until he’s lost all breath and then I’m going to cut off his balls and feed them to him one at a time for touching my property!” He spits in my face then starts back up with the punching. At some point I lose consciousness praying that my baby will survive the blows in equal hope praying that it doesn’t because this is no life for an innocent child.

Cold. So cold. My teeth are chattering as a warm hand slides up and down my back in smooth even movements. “Come back to me, baby. Come home,” I hear the one voice that instantly brings me relief. Chase. He’s here, not Justin. Small kisses line my temple and my forehead. When my body comes back on line, I clutch at him, his strong shoulders, legs wrapping around his tight waist. I feel weightless; he’s standing, and I feel only him. Then I’m back down; he’s sitting, holding me close. Slowly opening my eyes, I can see I’m still in the hospital, the room has a soft, muted glow. I see Maria, asleep in her bed. I’m still here.

“That’s it, honey, you’re okay. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here, bringing you back to me,” Chase coos into my ear. I grip onto his shoulders and lean back. I press my forehead against his and close my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper not knowing what else to say.

Chase holds me low at the back and shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. You had a moment, baby.” I nod and breathe in his comforting sandalwood and citrus scent. It fills the air around me, and I nuzzle into his neck, portions of the flashback still clawing at my psyche.

I’d missed my period. Told Justin I was pregnant, and he beat the living shit out of me. Every time I recall that night, I wonder what I could have done differently, how I could have turned things around. Perhaps killed him before he killed my baby.

Then it hits me. “How long has it been since our wedding?” I ask on a rushed breath.

“Four days,” Chase says instantly.

I chuckle and rub into his chest, laying my hand over his heart, feeling its steady, strong beat. “No, since Mexico.”

He groans but responds, “About five weeks.” Then he curls a hand around my neck and tips my head up. “Why?” When I look into his eyes, they are filled with love and concern, for me. Nothing but me. I know Chase, the man who loves me, my husband, would go to the ends of the earth for me.

“Five weeks!” I let out in a breath, the two words sending a nervousness so acute it rattles my teeth.

Chase nods, his eyes narrowing. He positions me so I’m straddling him, and one of his strong hands tunnels into my hair holding me at the nape. He maneuvers my head so I’m looking into his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

The last time I told a man this exact thing he beat the shit out of me. Instantly, I feel the tremors of panic starting to build. Chase can sense it because he tightens his hold, bringing me even closer and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, no way, breathe baby, breathe. You’re safe. You’re here with me, your husband. Nothing can happen to you here in my arms. I’ll protect you.” His words are exactly what I need to hear, the reassurance necessary to continue.

“You promise?” I choke out, shivers wracking my frame as I fear telling him what I need to say.

“Never gonna hurt you, baby. I promise. You’re safe.”

“Chase,” I whisper and look into his eyes, still love and concern there but now hints of fear. He’s afraid. I lick my dry lips and swallow.

“Tell me,” he lays his head against my forehead. The connection is all I need. His warmth, holding me close, his hands soothing me in long unhurried caresses.

“I missed my period,” I say so softly I’m not sure he heard it. His body tenses, and then mine does in response.

He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “What? When?”

“Um, I should have gotten it the week after our wedding.” His eyes go wide but not in the scary way Justin’s did. More like a surprised, holy shit way.

Chase licks his lips and cups my face. “I’m no expert, but doesn’t that mean you should have had it again, meaning you missed it twice?”

I nod. “Okay,” he says softly. “Have you been taking your pills?”

This time my eyes get big. Huge. Probably the size of half dollars if I had to guess. “I-I uh…no,” I finally admit.

Chase smiles softly, his blue gaze turning an honest-to-God aquamarine so blue it steals my breath with its beauty. “When was the last time you remember taking them?” There is not even a hint of anger in his tone, just the simple question.

I think back, the reel of memories of the past few weeks sweeps through my mind in a giant rush.

Getting the tattoo, the incredible feeling when Chase went down to his knees to inspect it.

Making love for the first time as a married couple in the tent with our ocean view.

Saying our vows in a tiny church in Ireland.

Finding the wedding gown and the tapestry.

Our emotional visit with Dr. Madison.

The hospital stay.

Being locked away in that disgusting storm shelter.

The look of hatred in Danny’s eyes as he tore the front of my wedding dress and fondled me.

Chase’s mother’s throat being cut, the blood pouring out over her chest.

I close my eyes tight, the memories flooding by so fast my temperature rises but Chase is there. Laying a calm hand to my cheek.

The yacht where he gave me the infinity necklace.

The yacht. “It was on the yacht. My pills. That’s the last time I remember taking them. Then there was the wedding, your Mom, being taken, the hospital stay…” He presses his lips to mine cutting off my excuses. His mouth is soft over mine, his kiss worshipping in its sweetness. He pulls away and cups both my cheeks.

“It’s okay. We’ll get through this together. It might be nothing, it could be the strain of everything that’s happened right?”

I nod and wait for him to finish his thoughts. “So we’re not going to worry. We’ll handle this together. Husband and wife. Right?” I nod again tears pricking at my eyes. “No crying. Me and you.”

Holy shit. Holy. Fucking. Shit. This is not at all something I planned for. Not something
we
planned for. I’m holding her hand and leading her out of Maria’s room. We’re on a mission. Well, I am. Get as many fucking pregnancy tests as possible, and confirm the results. Fuck!

“Where are we going?” she says, her voice so small it stops me in my tracks. I turn in the hall, the bright lights of the hospital bearing down on my wife’s tortured face. The pit in my stomach that formed when she said the words, “Missed my period” deepens further.

I cup her cheek. “Hey, none of that. We’re just going to get the tests, and confirm what we suspect one way or another. Okay?”

“You’re not mad?” Her voice trembles and that sound sends knives into my chest. I want to kill, torture and maim every man who ever made her afraid to be honest with me.

I pull her close into my arms. “God no. Gillian, we have been through so much over the past few months. If anything, this could be one of the good things.”

She backs away from my hold. “Really?” Her breath catches, and her eyes search mine. I smile even though my insides are screaming to run to the nearest pharmacy and find out if my wife is carrying my child. Our baby. I need to stay strong. Not show how much this news is affecting me. I’m not sure how to feel. All I know is that the desire to find out for sure is leading all actions from here on out.

Jack walks up to us. He was waiting outside Maria’s room. I’ve got guards once more on both Maria and Kathleen though Kathleen is still in ICU.

“Sir? Davis Estate?” Jack asks in his usual no non-sense timber.

I shake my head. “We’re stopping at a drug store, then going to the penthouse.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, and I cut my gaze at him so sharply he doesn’t respond just nods. Thank Christ. The last thing I need right now is insubordination. Not that I treat him like any of my other employees, but right now, I’m sure he can feel the tension filling the space around me. I clutch Gillian to my side, holding her close. Fuck. I can’t get her close enough. If she’d let me carry her through the hospital I would. She could be growing my baby within her right this very minute. That thought speaks deeply to the caveman within me. As we walk by, I want to growl and bark at any person who so much as bumps into her.

I clench my teeth, and we walk briskly out of the hospital. Jack ushers us into the blacked out SUV and we’re off.

I have Gillian wait in the car while I go into Walgreen’s alone, to Jack’s extreme discomfort. At this point, I don’t fucking care. It’s none of his business what I’m doing, and I don’t want her worrying about anything. She’s been through too fucking much already. When I find the right aisle I’m shocked by how many options there are. Shouldn’t it just be one? Take this test and find out pregnant or not. Instead of dealing with reading them, I grab one of each and head up to the register.