Eden's Pleasure (Pulse Book 1) (33 page)

In the last few days, she had spilled enough tears to fill the Grand Canyon and then some. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t suffering from severe dehydration, as her eyes filled up again.

“It was self-defense, baby. He was going to kill you, I had to stop him. There was no other way.”

“You know that and I know that, but it was only the three of us in that truck, and he’s not talking,” she pointed out the obvious. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her head forward to rest on his good shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart…shithead, how you doing?” Mason came in carrying a huge bouquet of mixed flowers in a glass vase, placing them on the bedside table. “From Hazel.”

“Thanks. She must be missing my sorry ass,” Chase said with a smile.

“I don’t know about that. She just said she hates hospitals and would be at home waiting to take care of you,” Mason said, not very good at relaying “mushy shit,” as he called it.

“Gotta love her.”

“So when are you getting out of here?” Mason asked.

Interrupting the conversation, a tall, dark-haired woman in a lab coat strolled to the side of the bed. “Well if you leave us alone for a few minutes, I can give Mr. Dean a once-over, and we can determine exactly when he can be discharged,” the doctor said, shooing them out and whipping the curtain around the bed.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee,” Eden told Mason as they exited. “We’ll be back, Chase.”

The coffee from the machine was foul, but Eden didn’t want to go downstairs to the cafeteria and be away too far from Chase. She put coins into the machine and extracted two very black, very bad coffees, handing one to Mason. He took a sip, making a sour face as he swallowed the bitter taste, immediately setting it down on the table, and pushing it to the side.

“Did he talk to you yet? Does he remember everything that happened?” Mason asked, the first to break the silence. She shook her head no. She had not asked, and she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear the gory details until she was forced to.

“Detective Blackstock said he’s coming to question him today. He won’t tell me if he’s going to be charged.” Eden took a sip of her coffee and nearly spit it back out, making Mason snicker at her misery. “Fuck, that’s bad coffee.”

“No shit.” Mason laughed. “Nice mouth on you, by the way. When is he coming? Maybe we should talk to Chase before he gets here.”

“We probably should,” Eden said, standing as Mason did and following him back to Chase’s room.

They stood against the wall opposite his room, waiting patiently. Eden fiddled with her purse strap. Mason stood like a statue, arms crossed over his chest, and a steel look on his face as he stared straight into the door. This came easily to him from years of training.

The door opened, and Blackstock eyed the two. “Come join us, please.” He was pissed, by Mason’s reading of the frumpy detective’s glare. The pair strolled in apprehensively, watching Chase for a sign of what was going on but his face, stone-cold, gave away nothing.

“Take a seat…we’re going to be a while,” Blackstock directed, taking a file folder from an officer standingnear the door.

“Looks to me like you boys had a bit of an incident at your country house, Mr. Dean. What baffles me though is the 911 call that came
after
the incident. I’m confused, gentlemen. And to top it all off, a man, a wanted felon, who was stalking you and Miss Fox, is dead from a single gunshot to the head. Miss Fox looks like she’s been beaten up pretty bad, and you were shot in the shoulder…I need answers.”

After Mason gave a detailed account of the incident which he had already quoted word for word three times previously, Blackstock seemed satisfied, comparing his notes to the police reports. He read over the incident reports from each of the marksmen and guards from the house, while the three glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken nervousness.

Turning to look at Eden, Blackstock made a very loose attempt to show her a softer side, failing despondently. He took his chair and moved it closer to the other side of her and sat staring at her. She shifted nervously and looked to Chase and Mason for reassurance.

“Miss Fox? May I call you Eden?” he asked, and she nodded a yes, rolling the edge of Chase’s sheet between her fingers. Interrogations, no matter how minor, even subtle probing, unnerved her, made her heart race and her palms sweat. Whether guilty or innocent, she always felt the need to confess to relieve the discomfort. This was the time to hold strong; she knew the importance of every word she spoke, that it would affect Chase.

“You need to tell me your version of what happened in that truck. I know that he had been stalking you, I have the evidence here. We know everything prior to getting in that truck, but let’s go over it again. This time I need more. No one’s here to harm or accuse you, I just need you to expand your story a little. Don’t miss any details; it’s important to Mr. Dean’s outcome,” the detective instructed without trying to be too pushy.

Eden sat quietly, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she drew into her own thoughts. “Would you be more comfortable just talking to me?” Blackstock asked, feeling her out.

She raised her hand over her mouth and inhaled deeply through her nose, looking around the room at each person in deep contemplation. “No. This way I only have to relive it once.” She avoided eye contact with the group. It was going to be hard enough without seeing their reactions. She stared deeply at a spot on the detective’s trousers, questioning for a moment what it might be. Spilt coffee, tea, maybe filling from a donut? The thought made her titter quietly, confusing everyone in the room.

Blackstock read aloud the report to the group and then stopped precisely where he intended Eden to start. “So when you discovered Jackson Hartley was in the house, where exactly did you see him?” The detective took on a whole different, much kinder personality. He was calm and cool and spoke in a caring, even tone.

Eden tugged at Chase’s sheet, twisting it in her fingers as she answered him. “I was in the movie room. I went to find Chase, but when I heard glass break, I ran back. I was scared.” She stopped abruptly, holding her breath.

“Go on Eden,” Blackstock encouraged.

“He was in the room. He shoved me over the couch, and I hit my head on the table. Then he slapped me across the face, he told me to shut up or he would kill me. He had a knife…I remember that knife, he used it to hurt me before.” She stared, wide-eyed, into space, remembering the nightmare and the feel of the blade’s edge as it sliced into her breast.

Chase recalled the scar on her breast and the fear in her eyes when she revealed how it came to be. Knowing that the very knife that inflicted that wound had been Jackson’s weapon of choice made him nearly sick to his stomach.

“What happened then, Eden?”

“I was sure he was going to kill me. I knew that Chase and Mason would come looking for me, and I needed to think of a way to let them know I was alive, so I wiped my blood on the walls. When we got to the garage, Jackson heard something and dragged me up the stairs. We hid in the washroom.” Her hesitation was long, and she blinked back tears.

“He kept telling me he was taking me home, and then he was going to make me…” She stopped, closing her eyes.

“It’s ok Eden, take your time,” Blackstock said, placing a hand over hers, patting to reassure her.

“He told me I was going to pay for leaving him, for sleeping with another man. He said I needed to be punished. He was serious, always a man of his word. He was a cruel, loathsome son-of-a-bitch.”

Eden drew in a deep breath and continued. “When Mason asked him to let me go, he punched me, he punched me so hard...told me that my fancy boyfriend and Mason, he called him the big guy, were the reason I had to die.”

“Then we went to the truck…he pushed me in, and I dropped the gun on the floor. Did I tell you he made me carry the gun? No, I guess I didn’t…so when it fell on the floor, I picked it up and tucked it under my leg. He told me not to bother buckling up. Drove down the driveway…the guard opened the gates. He laughed, calling himself ‘the all-powerful’ when it opened. When we got on the road, he told me to go ahead and look back at what I would never see again, and I did…that’s when I saw Chase on the back seat. Jackson told me I’d be dead by the end of the day.”

She looked at the detective and glanced over to see Chase watching her with such an impassioned look in his eyes. Her eyes never left his, and they welled up with tears as she continued on.

“The truck stopped…it just stopped, and then he yelled at me to give him the gun…he was going to kill me…I told him no…he hit me…I gave him the gun…but that’s all I remember…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The last of her words were meant for Chase. Even with everyone in the room, her words were directed toward him.

The guilt that plagued her finally coming to the surface, she wanted so gravely to close her eyes and wake in another time, another dimension, any other place but this. She would have given her own life to reverse it all, to go back and never have met Jackson Hartley, the demon that ruined her soul, who she allowed to ruin her.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

“There’s nothing you need to be sorry for, baby. I’m sorry you had to go through what you did. It shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know how he got past security…” Chase said, looking over at Mason. Mason looked at Eden, his eyes full of remorse.

Blackstock shifted in his chair. “So, Mr. Dean…is that what you remember?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You want to tell me how you ended up in the backseat of that truck?” Blackstock looked intently for an answer.

Chase kept constant eye contact with the detective. “When Jackson demanded a vehicle, I knew that Mason would offer the Tahoe. I hid in the back. When Jackson punched Eden in the head, she went down like a rag doll.” Chase turned to Eden and back to the detective. “I jumped up and surprised him. He fired the gun, hitting my shoulder…I shot him in the head,” Chase said matter-of-factly.

“How did you know he’d offer the truck?”

He shrugged with a sneer. “That Tahoe’s set up with all the gadgets, trackers, radar, and that damned kill switch. It’s something straight out of James Bond for god’s sake.”

Blackstock nodded his head as he read over the report in his hand, and looked up at Chase with an unmitigated stare. Returning the report to its folder and handing it to the officer, he stood, took a partially smoked cigar from his pocket, and tucked it into the corner of his mouth before speaking. The silence in the room was tormenting.

“Well, Mr. Dean…I’ll tell you…I’m not happy with the way you handled this…you totally disregarded my warning. Lucky for you, it was only Jackson that ended up dead here and no one else. It was definitely self-defense to me. You’re just lucky I’m in a decent mood today and don’t charge you with interfering in a police investigation.” He reached his hand out to Chase, and they shared a handshake.

Blackstock turned away as if to leave, but turned back and stared absorbedly at Chase. “There are some people in this world that would say your actions were heroic, kind of like a vigilante. Some people out there would even shake your hand and thank you for ridding the world of one more scumbag. Just saying.” He shrugged. “I’ll be in touch. You’re free to go home.”

The hidden meaning behind his words rang clear as a bell. Chase wasn’t stupid, he understood. It didn’t make the fact that he killed a man any easier, but he was thankful all the same. “Thank you, Detective,” Chase said, letting out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Miss Fox, take care of him,” Blackstock said, leaving the room before she could say a word.

“Guys, I’m sorry. I—”

Chase stopped Mason from continuing on. “Stop, man. Let’s just put this nightmare behind us and move on…for Eden’s sake,” Chase said, holding his hand out to Eden. She took it gladly and kissed his knuckles. “The doctor said I can leave as soon as I sign some papers. Let’s go home.”

“I’m not going home with you.” She looked at Chase and then over to Mason whose brow furrowed with a questioning look. “I’m moving into Mik’s place.”

“What are you talking about, baby? Moving in with Mikala? If you’re scared to go to the house, it’s ok. We’re not going there, ever again. We’re going to the apartment.” The sound of his voice, distressed and unsteady, was nearly killing her.

“Chase, I owe you so much, and I’ve also cost you so much. We need a fresh start. I need to find an apartment and a job. I need something real; I can’t live in a fantasy world. It’s been great with you but we both knew that it wasn’t forever and it wouldn’t last.”

Pain shot through his shoulder as he jerked to move from the bed. “Don’t do this, Eden. Please don’t do this to us. Please don’t leave me?” Chase took her hand and held it to his heart. “Please don’t leave me, baby?” His eyes filled with tears, and he did nothing to hide his grief.

She could feel his heart pounding in his chest and wanted nothing more than to crawl over to him and curl up in his lap, but she had to maintain control to get through this. She was the reason he was lying in a hospital bed with a bullet wound, and guilt was eating her alive. Setting him free was the only option. Pulling her hand away from his grip, she reached out and wiped away his tears.

Mikala knocked on the door frame, breaking the spell, and Eden pulled her hand back. “Hi, honey! You’re looking better today, Chase. Hi, Mason.” Mikala felt the tension, dense in the air, immediately, saw tears running down Chase’s cheeks and drew the obvious conclusion. It was all evident to her now that Eden had begged to stay with her, not because she didn’t want to be alone—it was to be alone. And by the look on Chase’s face, he was heartbroken; she was tearing him to pieces.

“Um…me and the hunk here are going to go get a coffee,” Mikala said, knowing that a little private time was called for.

“Thanks, Mik,” Eden said as she stood and rounded Chase’s bed. Mason followed Mikala, leaving them alone.

“I’m going to use the washroom,” Eden told Chase, running her hand over his jaw. He looked shattered. She felt terrible for causing him grief, but if she stayed she’d only cause him more. She needed a few minutes to gather her courage.