Thrill of the Chase (Dangerous Love) (19 page)

M
itchell knew why he had kept his son—the child he had created in love with his beautiful but fragile wife—in his life after discovering him lying in a cemetery bleeding and deserving every torturous second. But his reason had since passed. This would be the last night he would see his son. Mitchell would make certain of it. With Scott seated just inches away, the back of the limo suddenly felt like it was closing in on him.

“You don’t look well, Dad. Your color has not improved. I think we should go to the hospital for some tests,” Scott said, his voice louder than it needed to be.

Mitchell noticed the driver peering into the rearview mirror.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” Mitchell said, looking out the side window. It had just started to rain. The sight of the natural occurrence brought him both sadness and fond memories. His wife loved rain and thunderstorms. It was during monsoon-like weather in a tiny, cramped log cabin in the woods that he had proposed and she had said yes without hesitating. They didn’t leave that cabin for days. How he missed her smile and infectious laugh.

Mitchell had planned on staying at a hotel tonight. But after what transpired at the benefit, he couldn’t get back to the home he had shared with his wife for so many years fast enough. He also needed to get out of New York, far away from his son, far away from Erin Whitley. “Peter, please take me home to Philadelphia. Scott’s apartment is just a few blocks from here. We can drop him off on the way.”

Peter nodded and turned onto the main road.

“He can be quite stubborn, can’t he, Peter?” Scott asked, his tone taking on an annoying playful quality.

Peter didn’t answer. It seemed that he too found Scott irritating.

Peter pulled up in front of Scott’s apartment. Mitchell knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Just one last time. He reluctantly looked at his son, and gasped. The features on his son’s chiseled face morphed into the soft curves and untainted flesh of a child. His brown hair was trimmed neatly, but appeared somewhat tousled, the way it looked after playing nine innings of baseball with a cap fitting snugly on his head.

But it was an illusion, as it had been even when Scott was that eight-year-old boy. Mitchell felt true despair as he realized that at long last, it was time to let his son go.

“Good-bye, Scott.”

Scott stared back at him for a moment, and a smile tugged at one side of his mouth. Mitchell looked into his son’s eyes and shivered.

Peter opened the passenger-side door. Scott stepped out, but not before saying, “I’ll check on you later, Dad. You can count on that.”

M
s. Whitley, please open up and let me see that you’re safe. You know I will not leave unless I’m sure.”

Erin pressed her head against the inside of the front door to her apartment. She thought that she would have had a few extra minutes to wrap her head around what she had just learned before Andrew hunted her down. But it wasn’t Andrew’s fault. He was just following orders. He shouldn’t be on the receiving end of her despair and mounting rage.

Erin opened the door to her apartment and invited Andrew inside. He locked the door behind him and proceeded to search each room. When Andrew finally appeared satisfied, he walked over to her. “Mr. Montclair is concerned about your safety.”

“Yes, I’m aware. That is why you and I have been hanging out so much lately.” Ordinarily, Erin would have smiled, maybe even chuckled, but she was in no mood for light conversation. The pain she had experienced when she learned that Chase had traveled two thousand miles to visit his beautiful ex-girlfriend was overwhelming. It took everything Erin had to leave that banquet hall without causing a horrific scene.

“I must call him, Ms. Whitley. Please understand,” Andrew said.

Erin nodded, realizing it was pointless to stop him, if that was even possible.

Andrew withdrew his phone and dialed. Not even a second later, Erin heard Chase’s voice, though muddled, on the other line.

“Yes, she’s safe. Ms. Whitley is in her apartment.”

A few moments passed and then Andrew said, “Of course. I’ll stay here until you arrive.”

Erin waved her hands frantically as she mouthed, “No. No, Andrew.”

“Ms. Whitley wishes to speak with you,” Andrew said, holding the phone out to her.

Erin’s mouth hung open as she stared at Andrew. She didn’t expect her tight-lipped, all-business bodyguard to completely disregard what she obviously wanted. But Erin really couldn’t be angry at him. It was unfair to put him in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. Erin felt heat rush to her face, exposing her embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m not angry with you.”

He smiled and placed the phone in her hand. Andrew walked out to the kitchen, far enough away to provide her with a little privacy, but still keeping her in his line of sight.

“I know you’re angry with me and you have every right to feel that way. But please let me come over and explain why…”

Those pangs of jealousy and inconsolable pain hit her violently the moment she heard him speak. Furious, Erin cut him off and said, “Explain what? Explain why you flew across the country to pay your ex-fiancée a visit? Explain why you lied to me and told me you were going on a business trip?”

“Erin, please let me come see you.”

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door and then her brother’s voice. Now that Erin had a man in her life, they had decided that it was best if they didn’t just walk into each other’s apartments anymore. No brother wanted to see his sister in a compromising position, and vice versa. They had agreed to give each other a courtesy knock before entering. Erin’s attentive bodyguard was already walking toward the door. “Paul is at my door.” She sighed. And though it pained her to do so, she said, “I can’t do this right now, Chase.”

“Please, Erin. You need to understand why I went to California. But more importantly, you are in danger. Gabrielle told me that your ex is determined to get you back, that he will do anything to make you his again.” Erin felt her breath leave her and the room began to swirl around. The last thing she saw was the ceiling meeting the floor.

“Will you always make me worry so?” he asked, his voice full of loving concern.

It took a second for her vision to clear, but Erin would know Paul’s protective touch and soothing tone anywhere. Paul was holding her hand as she lay on the couch. “What happened?”

“You fainted.” Paul smoothed the hair back from her face, a gesture that her father had used on occasion, especially when he tucked her into bed at night when she was a little girl. “How do you feel?”

More than one word came to mind, but the only thing she could get out was “Foolish.”

Erin looked over at Andrew, who seemed to be keeping silent vigil. The expression on his face was one of relief, his stoic composure only wavering slightly. Erin didn’t want to put Andrew in an uncomfortable position, but right now it was necessary. “Andrew, I can’t speak to Chase right now. Report back that I’m fine, but urge him not to come here.”

He nodded, but before excusing himself, he stated, “I will inform him that you’re safe and that your brother has arrived. However, I will remain just outside your apartment in the hallway if you require my assistance.”

Erin nodded, accepting the frightening truth that constant surveillance was necessary, especially now.

What had happened? Did Chase find out that she had been raped?

Erin simply said thank you and watched her bodyguard leave her apartment. Erin hadn’t realized that she had been unconsciously keeping it together until she was finally alone with her brother and her raw emotions. She put her face in her hands, pulled her knees to her chest and wept.

Paul sat down on the couch and took her in his arms. “No secrets, remember. Not between us,” he said, his voice steady.

He held her tight as she cried, and when the tears finally started to recede and Erin could again breathe, she told him about Chase’s trip to California and the ex-fiancée whom he obviously was still involved with.

Paul refrained for a moment before responding to what she had just said. Erin assumed it was a tactic people learned in lawyer school in order to gather their thoughts before saying something witty or thought provoking. However, the words out of Paul’s mouth were simple and straight to the point. “That son-of-a-bitch.”

Paul stood up and started for the door. The look of brotherly concern had mutated into something very dark…and very dangerous.

Panic instantly set in. Erin knew what her brother was capable of when he was enraged. She had witnessed it firsthand. And no matter how angry she was at Chase, Erin didn’t want him hurt or maimed by her brother.

“Paul, wait. There’s something else you should know.”

Paul stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Chase doesn’t deserve you. And I’ll be damned if you think I’ll just sit back and let him treat you this way.”

“You don’t need to defend me. I’ll handle it.” Erin sat up straight, knowing that what she was about to reveal was even more troublesome. “Before I fainted, Chase called and told me that he was on his way over here to explain why he went to California. But more importantly, he felt the need to say that I was in danger, that my ex wanted me back.”

The look in Paul’s eyes changed from one of fury to outright dread. “Chase didn’t say anything else?”

Erin shook her head. “No, I passed out, most likely from shock, and the next thing I remember was you sitting here on the couch with me.” The muscles in her stomach tightened and she said what they both had to be thinking. “Do you think he found out about my rape and the rapist’s identity?”

Paul walked back over to her. “Erin, we need to find out what Chase knows or doesn’t know,” he said, his voice again calm.

“I know. But I can’t talk to Chase, at least not right now. I’m so angry, so…”

“Hurt?” Paul interjected.

Erin swallowed, feeling the tears begin to well. “I trusted him, Paul.” She inhaled and then said, “I want to be the one to confront him.”

“Alright. It will be on your terms, then.” Paul leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. He gave her one of his rare smiles and then started for the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Erin thought that she had made herself clear. She didn’t want Paul fighting her battles anymore.

“I’m just going out into the hallway to talk with Andrew. I think until we know anything further, Andrew should stay here around the clock.”

“Andrew has a life, Paul. He can’t be expected to babysit a grown woman twenty-four seven.”

“I’m aware of that. Which is precisely why I was going to ask him how we could maintain coverage, possibly with an additional guard. I’ll be right back.” He winked at her and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Erin had always known that Paul hid behind a mask most of his adult life. He rarely lost his composure, which was surely an asset in his profession. Erin had clung to the belief that Paul would never wear that mask around her. But when he didn’t return after several minutes from his conversation with Andrew, Erin came to the disturbing realization that she was not the exception. His mask was securely in place when he left her apartment in search of Chase.

W
ith the exception of weekly housekeeping and maintenance checks from Edward Green’s hired hands, Gabrielle’s lavish apartment had remained untouched for the past year. Gabrielle opened her bedroom closet door and smiled. It was stocked with clothes that she still fit into, a sweet triumph in any model’s life. But the momentary feeling of happiness faded as she stared at the king-sized bed, a bed she had shared with Chase…and many others. Gabrielle shook that thought from her mind. She was good at compartmentalizing. She needed to focus on what happened prior to Chase saying that he pitied her, when the legendary Chase Montclair had crumbled before her eyes and experienced true heartache.

A bath. A glass of wine, maybe the entire bottle. That was what she needed and deserved at the moment. Gabrielle retreated to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, a corkscrew and the first bottle she saw on the wine rack, and made her way back to the master bath. She placed her cell phone on the tub’s ledge, set it to her favorite Pandora station and turned on the tub’s jets. Gabrielle deposited more than enough soap to create a soothing bubble bath. She popped open the bottle of wine and poured herself a heaping glass. She peeled off her gown, a dress that she knew Chase didn’t take notice of, and let it and her undergarments fall to the floor.

Gabrielle stepped into the scalding water, though its bite only lured her in further. With wineglass in hand, she sat down and leaned her head against the back of the tub. The jets continued their rhythm, making her more relaxed by the second. The fact that she had downed her first glass and was now working on her second in less than two minutes also contributed nicely to her sedated state of mind. Gabrielle closed her eyes as she savored her victory.

The sight of Gabrielle, lying naked and wet in a sea of bubbles, did absolutely nothing for him. Scott knew from an early age what turned him on. Purity, innocence…the pristine. Gabrielle didn’t possess those qualities. In fact, Scott felt she tainted the world and whomever she came in contact with. Scott stepped further into the bathroom and stared at the woman who lay amongst the suds with her eyes closed. But the only thought that came to mind was that in a few moments there would be one less dirty creature on Earth.

Scott peeled away his disguise, sat on the tub’s edge, and removed the cork from the bottle of wine he had brought for such an occasion. The pop of the cork startled the dirty woman, and her eyes shot open. Gabrielle sat up, and though she appeared quite surprised by his impromptu visit, she didn’t bother to cover herself. Her perky breasts lay exposed above the waterline as she stared at him with what looked like annoyance. He had hoped she would feel a little embarrassed, possibly even ask for a towel in the presence of a virtual stranger. But she just sat there, looking like the pissed-off dirty whore that she was.

“How did you get in here?” she asked.

She reached for the half-drunk bottle of wine that she had obviously been working on, but Scott intercepted her and poured her a glass from the bottle he had brought.

He ignored her question. “You did very well tonight. And so you deserve vintage of a finer quality,” Scott said, pouring Gabrielle a glass of wine rich in color…and side effects.

Gabrielle took the glass and drank heartily. After the prolonged gulp, she licked her wine-infused lips and sighed. “Maybe,” she said.

“I don’t like this side of you. I was hoping to toast the beautiful and very confident woman I met in California,” he said, baiting her.

She straightened and scowled. “I did my part. I put the wedge between the happy couple. Now it’s your turn to tear them apart for good.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. That will happen sooner rather than later,” he said, pouring Gabrielle another glass of wine.

Gabrielle took a sip and then said, “You don’t care to join me, Doctor?” She lifted her wineglass. “Go on, I don’t have cooties.”

“Of course not. But I have a house call that I must attend to, and I must keep my wits about me.” He smiled at her.

Gabrielle took yet another sip. “I’m intrigued, Dr. Morris.”

“About what, love?”

“There’s no way Chase would have let you sit at the same table as Erin Whitley tonight, let alone breathe the same air as her, if he thought you had been intimate with his girlfriend at some point in time. He’s not the sharing type.” Her last three words sounded slurred, and he wondered if she had taken notice.

“You do amuse me at times,” he said, watching her eyelids begin to grow heavy. She was just becoming interesting. Pity.

She held up her empty glass, motioning for a refill. He complied happily.

“Erin Whitley treated you like a ssstranger, not a lover.” Gabrielle smiled, sat back in the tub and gulped her wine.

Scott refrained from commenting on a statement that was meant to sting. He had more important things to do than get into a war of words. He had to know if Gabrielle Green had complied with the terms of their arrangement and from the looks of her, his time was running out quickly.

“Gabby, have you been a good girl? Did you tell anyone about us?” he asked, brushing the hair from her face. Her eyelids were struggling to remain open. The toxin was working beautifully.

She shook her head. “Nnno…and don’t call me Gabby,” she said, her lips pouty.

“Shh…that’s a good girl.” He had to keep her talking, enough to make sure his cover had not been blown. “Does Chase Montclair know about me?”

She shook her head violently. “Only cares about…her.”

Scott was almost positive that Gabrielle hadn’t disclosed his identity. If she had, Scott was certain that Montclair would have hunted him down by now. Scott took the empty wineglass from her hand and placed it gently on the tub’s ledge. He slid her to a sitting position, since she’d started to slump amidst the ever-fading bubbles.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he said.

Her eyelashes twitched as she struggled to open them. After several seconds, he stared into glazed-over eyes, once vibrant but blinded to what a woman should hold dear.

“I’m sleepy,” she said.

“Yes. But I need you to look at me.”

“Hmmph…why?” she asked, barely a whisper.

Scott reached over and smoothed the hair from her face. “Because you need to see what happens to filthy girls.”

“But I’m a good girrrl,” she said, her voice fading.

“Tonight you were my good, compliant little girl, yes. But one night does not an Angel make.” He caressed her cheek and then reached for her shoulder. Her eyes grew wide as he thrust her under the water. She struggled for only a few moments before her body went limp beneath his grasp. Scott was careful not to hold her too tightly. Her death needed to look like a suicide, something she had attempted before, not a homicide. Strange marks on her supple skin would only lead to further investigation.

Scott reached for her cell phone and searched Gabrielle’s contacts. He clicked on Chase’s name and began the short and to-the-point text:
“I think I got it right this time. I’m sorry for everything. Good-bye Chase.”

Scott placed the phone on the ledge, but refrained from pushing
SEND
. He removed a handkerchief from his suit’s jacket pocket and proceeded to wipe down everything in the bathroom that he had come in contact with. When he was confident that his presence couldn’t be detected, even by the most astute detective, he reached for the phone, pressed the
SEND
button and wiped it clean. Scott stepped away from the tub and looked at the filthy little girl beneath the suds, the girl that would never be clean, even in death.