Soul: Trinity Trilogy Book 3 Page 5

  “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.

  Chase

  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.

  “We’re not going home. We’re going to the Davis Mansion when you’re sprung out of here, but I think it might be a couple more days.” If I have anything to say about it, it will. I’ve got two fully-armed g
uards at her door, another four trolling the building and parking lots looking for suspicious activity. McBride’s still out there. The only thing we found when the area surrounding her shelter was searched was a brown satchel with provisions in it.

  Her eyes turn a darker, leafy green. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to be sleeping in our bed at the penthouse. I’ve been locked away in a god-damned cell for a week,” her voice shakes and it sends my temper ablaze. “I need to be home. With you. Where I’m most comfortable.”

  I suck in a breath and try to control my anger. The fact that I have to worry about where my fiancée is going to be safest, instead of comfortable, after what she’s gone through is infuriating. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Like I’m trying to figure out how you thought it best to crawl into bed with my patient, Mr. Davis,” comes a grumbling voice from the door. Dr. Dutera enters, his rimless glasses perched on his bulbous nose. Even with the well-mannered doctor, I’m not going to justify his remark by giving him a response. Gillian is my woman. I go where she goes. Period. And after being faced with her abduction the last few days, anyone who gets in my way will pay dearly.

  “I sleep better next to my fiancé doctor.” Gillian glances down to the wedding ring on the doctor’s left hand. “I imagine your wife feels the same about you.”

  A slow smile fills the doctor’s face. As with any man, his woman is the way to his heart. Not a meal as the overused cliché suggests. Just the love of a good woman. Of course my woman would pick up on that. Gillian has always had a way with people. Most days I wish she didn’t. I’d prefer to have her all to myself.

  “Yes, well, we need to check your vitals and go over your injuries,” he says while flipping through the pages on her chart. I slowly remove myself from the bed.

  “I’ll just speak to security and grab a cup of coffee…” I barely have my hand on the door handle before Gillian screams.

  “Chase no! Don’t leave me!” she screeches. In less than a blink, I’m back at her side and she’s in my arms. Tears pour down her cheeks and soak my shirt where she rubs her battered face into my sternum. “Just, please, don’t leave me,” she chokes back a sob and sniffles, wiping her face against my shirt. I don’t care. The violent response to my leaving is enough for me.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.” I hold her until her sobs become soft hiccups against my chest. When I look up the doctor’s mouth is set into a grim line.

  “We’re going to need to have psych come assist—” He starts, but I cut him off.

  I point my finger at him, my tone menacing and firm. “Don’t say a word. Not a word. She’s fine. Just shaken up, which is understandable after what she’s gone through.” I pet Gillian’s hair and she shudders against me. The emotional waves tear through my own defenses and the lion comes out, claws sharpened and incisors ready to tear flesh. “Now, we have a great psychologist named Dr. Madison that I’d like you to call. Give him a brief rundown of the situation, and I’m certain he will be happy to assist in Gillian’s mental health. Do I make myself clear, Dr. Dutera?” My tone leaves no room for argument. If he does, we’ll get another doctor within the hour.

  The doctor sighs, and his mouth tightens. “I understand,” he says, then proceeds to go through the laundry list of injuries she sustained. For the most part, the wrists, ankles, and face received the most damage. All will heal well as we continue her on the antibiotics and taper off the pain medications.

  “According to my records, you’ve lost twenty-five pounds since your first visit with me when you got your stitches removed just under a year ago. That’s a lot of weight for a slight woman. I’d like to see you put at least ten of those pounds back on,” he suggests. She nods but doesn’t move her face from the position against my chest. If anything, she’s made herself more comfortable there. Again, I can’t complain. She needs me. Having this woman need me is everything I’ve ever wanted. I just didn’t want it under these conditions or circumstances.

  I settle Gillian back down on the bed but lean against her side. She clasps my hand, bringing it up to her lips, and holds it there. Just holds my hand against the abrasions on her chin and mouth as if it were a safety blanket. In that moment, I know we need Dr. Madison’s expertise far more than I had imagined.

  Daniel

  That rat bastard has had my princess for two fucking days now. The hospital they’ve taken her to is crawling with fibbies and hired rent-a-cops. I’ll just bet all of them have my picture, too. Stupid fucks. Nothing a little brown hair dye, a pair of colored contacts, and a little facial hair won’t fix.

  The white walls of the hospital corridor remind me of a psych ward. Up ahead, I see one of the rent-a-cops. Perfect test. He moves to walk past me, and I stop him with a hand on his elbow.

  “Excuse me, do you have the time?” I ask looking him directly in the eye. He looks down at his watch.

  “Sure Pal, it’s ten to four,” he says, then adjusts his belt. Something I find that security guards do. Somehow they believe it makes them look more powerful. Like they have to go through any actual training to carry a baton and a walkie-talkie. I try hard not to roll my eyes.

  I look around and catch the uniform of another fake, first responder. “So what’s with all the security? Is there someone famous here?” I ask in a hushed tone making sure to use good voice inflection and prod his shoulder like we’re old high school buddies.

  He scans the space for a moment, places his hands on his belt once more then leans forward. “You didn’t hear this from me, but yeah. A billionaire is here, and his wife is being treated. She was kidnapped.”

  His wife. Not fucking possible. I grit my teeth and try not to correct the man. “Really? Is she okay?” He nods. “Banged up pretty bad. The guy who took her was a real sick-o if you know what I mean.”

  My head flies back at the offensive slam. “No, I don’t. Tell me!” My voice turns harsh and his eyebrows narrow. “I mean, you know buddy, what did he do that was bad?”

  “I don’t know everything, but from what I heard, he had her shackled like a slave. Stole her on her wedding day, too. Still had the dress on when she arrived on the chopper half dead.”

  “Half dead!” I say far too loudly.

  “You deaf? Yeah, guy almost killed her. Anyway, I need to do my rounds. Keep an eye out for this guy.” He holds up a picture of me. It is one that Gillian had of us together only someone cut her out of it.

  Do they think they can cut me out of her life? That I’ll go away so easily?

  I study the photo for another moment. “Well, I hope you find the guy.”

  “Yeah it would be great if I’m the one who gets to take him out. Would be a real service to mankind.” The overweight man slaps me on the back. I clench my fist to prevent my natural inclination to wrap my hands around his beefy head and twist his neck until the bones snap, crackle, and pop.

  He left to finish his rounds as I move to do the same. Only I make it a point to walk past every security guard, ask them a question or bump into them. None of them recognize me. Stupid idiots. This time tomorrow, I’ll have my girl back.

  Chapter Five

  Gillian

  Something tickles my nose and I open my eyes. It’s Maria. Her smile is huge.

  “Cara bonita, you are a sight for very sore eyes.” She sits in the chair next to me, clasps my hand in both of hers then pulls them to her cheeks. The olive of her skin is a stark contrast to the pallor and bruises of my own. A long breath escapes her lips. Two tears fall delicately down her cheeks.

  “No,” I shake my head. “I’m okay, really.” Those full lips of hers tip upward slightly but can’t seem to hold onto a smile.

  “Gigi, we almost lost you. Ido. Gone. I cannot lose you. You, the girls, you’re all I have.”

  I frown. “That’s not true. You have Tommy and Phil, and Chase.”

  She laughs before her ice-blue eyes focus on mine and she gets very close. Her nose touches mine an
d she nuzzles it then rests her forehead against the crown of mine. “It’s not the same, and you know that cara bonita.”

  I do know that. No matter how many men come and go in our lives, the four of us, Maria, Bree, Kat, and I have something no one else has. It’s unconditional, sent down from the Heavens above. It just is. Losing one would be like losing a limb or a piece of me. Completely, utterly, unbearable.

  Instead of responding, I nod and run my hand through her hair. The silky, dark waves are soft and shiny. She smells of coconut and a summer day. Maria brings that to my life. The sun. Warm, enriching, a necessity to keep the dark at bay.

  The door flings open and Bree and Kat enter each holding two Styrofoam cups. Bree sets down the cups and dashes to my side. “Thank God, Gigi.” Tears instantly pour down her beautiful face as she tries to hug me around her belly but also holds herself back, her arms shaking with the strain. “I’m afraid to hurt you.”

  I pull her into a tight embrace. She slumps into me, returning the hug. “You could never hurt me with a hug.” Her tears wet the shoulder of my hospital gown, and I pet her hair then wipe away her tears with one hand. “I’m on the mend. I’ll be good as new in a couple weeks.” I say while looking into Kat’s then Maria’s eyes.

  Kat grabs Bree’s arm hoisting her up and off the hospital bed. “Share the love, chick!” She scowls at Bree then takes her place, her arms wrapping around me like a warm blanket on a cold day. I snuggle in, and she runs her hands up and down my back. “I cannot tell you how happy we are to have you home safe. Those few days were torture. The not knowing,” her voice catches and I hold on tighter. “We’re just really glad you’re back…” she trails off and pulls away. Her lip is trembling and those caramel-colored eyes fill to the brim with unshed tears. She looks up and presses at the corners of each eye, shakes her head, and then smiles as if she’s just put herself in check. Kat has always been one of the strongest women I know. Of the four of us, she’s usually able to keep it together in difficult situations. I hold her hand and Maria’s. Bree sits at the foot and places her own on my ankle. I wince sucking in a breath. She jumps back.