Thrill of the Chase (Dangerous Love) (20 page)

W
arn him if you must,” Paul said as he walked past Andrew. “Just don’t leave Erin’s side.”

Andrew didn’t even attempt to stop him. It was as if he expected nothing less from the jilted woman’s overprotective brother.

Paul caught the elevator and rode the seven floors down in seething silence. He told himself to calm down, to at least hold off on killing Chase Montclair until he discovered what the piece of shit knew, if anything, about the rape. But the moment he spotted Chase exiting the parked limo across the street from their apartment building, all rational thought went by the wayside.

Paul sprinted across the street, disregarding traffic and any obstacle that would prohibit him from grabbing Chase and pounding his face in, and rounded Chase’s vehicle. Paul looked around and noticed that the park adjacent to them would provide the cover he needed to accomplish his two objectives.

Chase slammed the passenger-side door to the limo shut and looked at him. Paul noticed that Chase didn’t look the least bit surprised to see him there, fuming and ready to pounce.

“Erin needs to know the truth…and so do you.”

Paul couldn’t stand to hear his sister’s name pour over the bastard’s lips. His fist hit Chase’s jaw with expert precision, but Chase didn’t fall as he expected. Chase shoved him off, but Paul ran for him, backing Chase into the protective shadows of the park, and tackled him.

“You don’t deserve her,” Paul grunted as he pinned Chase to the ground.

Paul had underestimated Chase’s strength, and found himself tossed to the side as Chase maneuvered out of his grasp. Both men sprang to their feet, but it was Chase who seemed to have the upper hand. Chase grabbed Paul and pinned him against an aging oak tree. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“She trusted you,” Paul said through clenched teeth. “And she doesn’t trust anyone.”

Chase’s arm was across Paul’s throat. “Why is that?” Chase shouted.

Paul and Chase stared at each other for a tense moment. It was as if one was waiting for the other to break. Finally, Chase said, “Why did you tell me that you don’t know Erin’s ex-boyfriend? It’s obvious that you know something. Tell me who he is.”

“He can’t…and neither can I.”

Paul hadn’t heard Erin approach. He turned and saw her standing a few feet away with Andrew trailing closely behind.

Chase’s arm went limp and he backed away from Paul. Erin stepped closer, positioning herself between the two men.

“The flowers that were delivered to your apartment, the text messages…were not sent by an ex-boyfriend.” Erin looked at Paul. He nodded. Her secret was about to be exposed, and if that was what she wanted, he would support her. “They were sent by the man who raped me a year ago while I was walking home from my last final exam.”

Everything made such cruel and sickening sense…almost everything, anyway. Chase didn’t know why Erin had kept this unthinkable crime a secret from him. Didn’t she know that there was nothing she could tell him that would make him love her any less? All he wanted to do at the moment was take Erin in his arms and protect her.

Chase stepped toward her, but she raised her hand. He froze midstride, and though it pained him to do so, he complied with her command. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

Although tears were already flowing down her face, Erin appeared confident, oddly at peace with her decision to share such a personal event in her life.

Erin walked over to him and touched his face. “This is why,” she said. Chase reached for her hand, holding on to the gentle caress for dear life. “I never wanted to see you look at me this way, with such sorrow, with such…pity.”

Chase shook his head and just when he was about to tell her how wrong she was, the sound of his cell phone broke the silence. His phone, which lay on the ground at Erin’s feet, chimed, signaling that he had received a text. It must have fallen from his pocket during his wrestling match with Paul.

The sudden withdrawal of Erin’s hand from his face jolted him, and he felt empty. Erin bent down and picked up his phone. Her face hardened as she looked at the screen.

“It’s Gabrielle.”

Chase wanted to tell Erin to disregard it, but he needed Erin to trust him. “Read it,” he commanded.

Erin looked back at the phone and read the text aloud. “What does she mean when she says, ‘I think I got it right this time’?”

Chase looked over at Paul. Although it wasn’t possible that Paul could know about Gabrielle’s past and her previous suicide attempt, Chase got the sense that Paul knew there was something urgent regarding that message. “Come with me,” Chase said, looking at Paul.

Paul nodded, complying with his directive.

Chase turned to Andrew and said, “Take her to my place. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“What…what is going on? Paul?” she asked, her beautiful face plagued with hurt and confusion.

“Erin, go with Andrew. We need to check on something,” Paul said.

Erin looked as if she had been sucker punched. “A minute ago you two were beating each other’s faces in. And now you’re best friends?”

“Make no mistake. I’m going with Chase because I believe we may be able to finally find out who the rapist is. I haven’t forgotten what Chase has done to you. I can put my emotions aside, the ones that tell me to kill him…for now,” Paul said.

Chase walked over to Erin, but the warning in her eyes made him pause. It wasn’t the time or place to explain what the cryptic text could possibly mean. She handed him his phone, turned on her heel, and walked in the direction of the street. Although Andrew followed her closely, Chase couldn’t help but fear for her safety. If there was any hope of stopping Gabrielle from taking her own life or finding out who she was working with, he had to leave now. It was possible Gabrielle was faking the suicide attempt just to get his attention…but as he hustled toward his vehicle with Paul at his side, Chase got the feeling that she had indeed been successful this time around.

Chase and Paul slipped into the backseat. Withdrawing his phone, Chase shouted Gabrielle’s address to his driver and asked him to make haste. Chase then dialed 9-1-1.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

“I’m reporting a possible suicide. Gabrielle Green, age twenty-seven, resides at two-twenty-three East Thirty-Second Street. She contacted me approximately five minutes ago via text.” Chase reiterated the exact wording of the text to the operator and then added, “She has attempted before, a little over a year ago, with pills and alcohol.”

The operator asked him a few more questions that pertained to her previous attempt and then ended the call.

Chase could feel the weight of Paul’s gaze. Up until now, Paul had remained silent. But Gabrielle’s apartment was several minutes away, giving him more than enough time to provide the brother of the woman he loved with some type of explanation. Lord knew, Paul deserved it.

“What makes you think Gabrielle knows who raped my sister?” Paul asked, though it gutted him to utter those words.

Chase’s face turned a sharp shade of red. Chase closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Finally, he said, “Tonight, at the benefit, she told me that she wasn’t working alone.”

“What does that mean? What is she trying to accomplish?” Paul asked, his patience growing thin.

Chase ran his hand through his hair. He pressed the button on the intercom and asked his driver for the estimated time of arrival.

“Two minutes sir…lots of traffic tonight.”

Chase grunted and then turned to face Paul. “She’s trying to destroy me and the woman I love.”

Paul had to give the man credit. He had nerves of steel to declare his love without a moment of hesitation. Still, there were too many things left unanswered. Like…why the hell did he go to California to see Gabrielle?

“If you love my sister like you say you do, then why travel to the other side of the country to visit your ex-fiancée?”

“I haven’t seen Gabrielle since she left for California, but I stayed in contact with her doctor this past year. He had told me that she was progressing and moving on. But I had to be sure.”

“Why? Why not just let her be? If Gabrielle was getting her life back, why would you pop back into it?” Paul asked.

“Erin and I ran into her parents earlier this week while we were out to dinner. They told me that Gabrielle was planning to come home for a visit in the near future and that she was looking forward to seeing me. I was on a plane the very next day and flew to California to tell Gabrielle in person that I have met someone. She needed to know where we stood, that the relationship she and I had shared could not be rekindled.”

“Obviously, she didn’t take it well.” Paul said.

“In hindsight, I should have known something was wrong.”

“Why is that?” Paul asked.

“Because she was exceptionally accepting, gracious even, when I told her about Erin.” Chase shook his head. “I just didn’t know how wrong it was until she mentioned Erin’s ex-boyfriend at the benefit tonight.”

Paul’s eyebrow raised. It was the closest he had gotten to discovering the rapist’s identity. “Gabrielle didn’t mention a name? What he looked like? Anything?” Paul asked, though he already knew the answer.

“No. Seems like withholding that information was part of her sick game, along with making Erin think that I had been cheating on her.” Chase cleared his throat and looked out the window. “I would never hurt her, Paul.”

Paul was a born skeptic. He based his beliefs on fact: what you could touch, taste and see. He would often take a gut feeling into consideration when he tried a case, but it never stood alone. He would let the evidence, the cold, hard facts, speak.

So it shocked Paul when he realized that he believed everything Chase had said…even though the evidence suggested something else entirely.

The limo pulled right up in front of what Paul assumed was Gabrielle’s high-rise building, though the swirling lights of the police car and ambulance would have told him that they had arrived at their destination.

W
aiting around was a risk, but Scott didn’t care.

He wouldn’t be able to be there in person to witness Chase finding Gabrielle’s waterlogged body, but being a spectator from afar was the next best thing. Scott retreated to the side alley of the high-end apartment building and waited. The ambulance was the first to arrive on the scene, which wasn’t too surprising since there was a hospital practically in walking distance. Chase pulled up in his limo a minute later. Strangely enough, he was not alone. Paul Whitley accompanied him. The dynamic duo sprinted from the vehicle and rushed into the building after the medics. The sight both infuriated and worried him. It was likely that Chase and Erin’s relationship was still intact.

Apparently, there was more work to be done. But Scott was not completely discouraged. He would find a way to draw Erin in. He turned and proceeded down the alley toward Manayunk Street. Once there, he could abandon the disguise he had worn to enter Gabrielle’s building and blend in with the rest of the New York nightlife. But as always, his head flooded with a multitude of ideas at once. They came as visions, and although many were intriguing, he fixated on one in particular. He smiled.

The grieving process was a wondrous thing, he thought to himself. It had the tendency to bring people together. He pictured his Angel distraught, tucked into his arms as he consoled her. Scott would stroke her back gently until her sobs ceased completely, until they were finished mourning the loss of a dear old man who passed away suddenly.

Chase heard the familiar tune of Gabrielle’s favorite band as he bounded down the hall. Aerosmith’s “Dream On” grew louder with each footfall until they reached the bathroom door. He had arrived just in time to see the paramedics pull Gabrielle’s submerged body from the tub. They worked on her for over twenty minutes, but to no avail.

Chase and Paul retreated to the bedroom, where a police officer questioned them, wrote some notes and, when he seemed satisfied, dismissed them.

Alone, Chase said to Paul, “I need to make a few phone calls.”

Paul looked at him and said, “I’ll be in the other room.” He started to walk toward the door and stopped. Paul turned around and said, “I’m sorry you found her like that.”

Chase nodded, knowing full well that the relationship he had with Erin’s brother was strained to say the least. But still, Paul found it in him to display some compassion.

Chase sat on the bed and stared at his phone. No parent should bury his child. Chase sighed, bypassing the Greens’ home number, and searched for Edward Green’s personal cell phone number. His thumb hovered above the
CALL
button for a moment as he prayed for the strength to make it through the impending conversation with Gabrielle’s father. Finally, he pressed the button, and as he heard the phone ring, he was instantly transported back in time to when he had made a similar phone call over a year ago. But this time the ending was a bit different. Gabrielle wasn’t going to be spending the next year in a luxurious rehab facility in sunny California. This time around, she would be transported to the morgue at Mercy General.

M
itchell sealed the final envelope and tucked the letters into the top drawer of his desk. Running into Erin was the best and worst thing that could have happened that night. Seeing her face and those eyes, which had at one time sparkled with promise, he knew what had to be done. Although he had every intention of turning himself in to the police tomorrow morning, he needed to put his thoughts and a confession down on paper. He also needed to ensure that his son wouldn’t get a penny when he left this earth. He would call his attorney first thing tomorrow morning. Tonight, he wanted to sleep in his bed, the bed he shared with his kind and loving wife, one last time.

He turned off the downstairs lights and locked the doors. Although it was almost four o’clock in the morning, Mitchell found it difficult to surrender to sleep. Luckily, the bourbon was starting to take effect. He had hoped that the two-and-a-half-hour drive from New York to Philadelphia would have relaxed him, make him forget about his life, but all it did was give him time with his own horrid thoughts.

Wearily, he ascended the steps. But as he reached the last step from the top, he heard a key turn in the front door’s latch. Mitchell closed his eyes and swallowed deeply. He reached for the railing and turned to face his son, the only other person, housekeeper excluded, who had a key to his home.

Scott closed and locked the door behind him. The sight of Scott securing the dead bolt sent a chill down Mitchell’s spine. Why was his son here?

“Feeling better, Dad?” Scott asked, moving toward the stairs.

Mitchell eyed him closely. He silently thanked God that his wife wasn’t around to witness what her son was, a soulless monster that violated women in the most horrific of ways.

“Tired.” From life, from living in denial all these years.

Scott climbed the steps two at a time. In a matter of seconds, Mitchell found himself face-to-face with evil. His hands began to sweat as his grip on the railing tightened.

“You should be lying down,” Scott said. Mitchell watched as Scott’s gaze drifted to the hand that was firmly holding on to the wooden railing, then to the floor below.

Mitchell turned and climbed the remaining step, but instantly knew it was a mistake. Scott had brushed past him in that moment and spun around. Mitchell felt vulnerable as the flight of steps lay at his back. Scott inched closer and smiled.

It was the smile that gave Scott away. The smile that allowed Mitchell to see why his son had just paid him a house call. Mitchell could scream, even fight it, but in the end, he knew he would lose. He looked his son in the eye and asked, “Where will you go?”

Scott looked at him inquisitively. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Where will you hide when the world discovers what you have done?” Mitchell matched his son’s arrogant smirk.

Scott’s smug grin faded. “Your death is intended to serve two purposes. With you six feet under, there will be no need for me to go anywhere.”

The temptation to get the last word was strong. Mitchell wanted desperately to tell his son just how foolish he was: Killing him would only bring the truth to light. That thought brought a smile to Mitchell’s face. He sighed, knowing that this was how it was supposed to play out. This was his penance.

The last ounce of arrogance drained from Scott’s eyes as he grabbed his father by the shoulders. “Give Mom a kiss for me,” Scott snarled.

Mitchell lifted his chin, and with a steady voice he said, “I am comforted by the fact that you won’t ever get the chance to kiss her yourself.”

The last thing Mitchell saw was Scott’s face twist in what appeared to be unleashed rage. With his eyes closed, he silently asked for forgiveness.