Soul

by Audrey Carlan

  CHAPTER TEN

  Daniel

  It’s been two fucking days and no sign of her or the rich fucker. No one seems to have any idea where they are. The Italian bitch has come and gone with her bodyguard, so has pregnant Barbie, her first fuck, and his bastard daughter. Also that dress-making, hippie-looking chick and the cousin have been back to the mansion, but not my princess or the prick with a little dick.

  I groan and pace the security office. Anger swells deep inside, making sweat rise to the surface of my skin, prickling and tingling. Something’s not right. Maybe they went back to the penthouse? The penthouse is tricky. It’s guarded, but the biggest problem is needing a fingerprint to access their home. Then again, the blonde bitch I was fucking, Dana could get me in. If she won’t do it willingly, I’ll cut her hand off, let her bleed out. Problem solved. She’s no longer of this Earth, and I’ve got my fingerprint scan. Of course I’ll have to find a way to disable the security camera with no one being the wiser.

  Again, I pace back and forth until my boss arrives, breaking my concentration. “Elliot! Buddy, you about to start your rounds?” the fat fucker asks, using my fake name.

  It was pretty easy to get. I just pilfered it from my adopted stepbrother. The one I was staying with while I figure out how to get Gillian back and take her away. My stepbrother is one of the only people who’s ever been consistently nice to me. Probably because he’s just aa big of a bastard as I am, only he doesn’t hide it very well. And he likes money, which I have a lot of. It was nothing to give him ten grand to let me hide out with him, no one being the wiser. So far, it’s worked like a charm.

  “Yes, sir. Just checking out the cameras. Making sure everyone is accounted for. You know what I found strange?” I lean forward and pretend to look at the wall of cameras.

  “What’s that?” He looks over my shoulder. I point to one camera. “There’s Mr. Parks and Ms. Simmons and the little girl.” Templeton nods. “And there, that’s De La Torre, with Ms. Bennett and Carson Davis. What’s weird is that I haven’t seen Chase Davis or our top protection priority Ms. Callahan.”

  “Not strange at all,” he shakes his head and walks away.

  “Yeah? How so?”

  “Because they’re not supposed to be here.”

  I narrow my gaze at him. “Do they have another home?”

  “Well yeah, Mr. Davis is extremely rich. Like more money than you and I would ever see in a lifetime, and he makes that in a day.” That just irks me. He makes it sound like the fucker being rich means something. It doesn’t. I can take him out just as easy as I could a poor man. We all bleed fucking red.

  I pretend to act relieved. “So good. They’re at one of his other homes.”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, they left on an airplane. No one knows where.”

  “What?”

  Templeton’s eyebrows rise. “I mean, we’re security. We need to be aware of these things, told where they’re going and when they’re coming back, right? So we can make sure they’re safe?”

  “Mr. Davis planned something big. A bunch of escalades went to four different airports. Not sure which one they were in or where they went. I was told by Mr. Jack Porter, his personal guard, that they’d be gone for an indeterminate amount of time and to focus our protection on the charges you see on the screen.” He points a fat finger at Gillian’s bitches.

  “Seriously? No one knows where they went?” I’m certain my entire body is about to light up in flames. Anger burns like acid in my gut, and I’m ready to strike, charge out of here, and kill one of her stupid bitches in retaliation.

  “Yeah. It’s a good idea if you ask me. Scoop that pretty little thing up and get her out of the country. Makes sense right? He’s rich enough, and that guy did a number on her. Poor thing is completely scared all the time. Haven’t seen her once without Mr. Davis locked to her side. Word is, she freaks out when he’s out of the room. Probably took her away to make her feel safe.”

  I suck in a harsh breath and grind my teeth then stare at the monitors. He clasps a hand on to my shoulder and squeezes it. “Like that you’re paying such close attention though, Elliot. You’re a great man to have on the job.” He praises me but it doesn’t sink in. Nothing does. All I can think about is that he has her somewhere far away. Fuck, I should have stayed on yesterday after my shift, found a place to hide out. Had I not gone home to get a bit of shuteye, I’d know where they are. And now, they could be anywhere in the world. With his money, fuck, he could have her on a tiny island off of Asia or Australia. Half way around the world. That’s how far I plan on taking her. Though I think the tip of Canada to start with, until we get settled as a couple.

  “Elliot, I’m going to make my rounds, feel free to stay here, watch our charges.”

  I nod and wait until I hear the door close to grip the chair in front of the wall of monitors and squeeze with all my might. Fuck…think Daniel, think. How the fuck am I going to get her home? I look at the blond-haired little girl being lifted and then dunked into the indoor pool. The pregnant one in a bikini. Gotta admit, her body, even with that giant fucking bump with Philip’s bastard child in it looks mighty fine. I’d fuck her for sure. My dick hardens. It would be best to fuck her while Phillip was tied up, bleeding from multiple stab wounds. I’d protect the girl though. She deserves fucking better than him.

  Next, I see the Italian cunt and her hippie bitch sitting in one of the lounges. One is talking adamantly to the other, swinging her hands around. They both have a glass of wine in their hands and are smiling at one another. How I’d like to rip those smug smiles off their pretty fucking faces…with my knife. I could scratch all kinds of words into their skin, watch it spill out and smear over their features. Again, my dick gets painfully hard. It’s time to release this pent up need inside, and it’s not one that will be taken away by sticking my cock in a whore. No, it’s been too long since I’ve seen blood flowing from a warm body. Then, it comes to me like a winning, million-dollar lottery ticket.

  The bitches. Easiest way to get my princess back on terra firma is to take out her bitches. The stupid cunts she calls her soul sisters. Whatever the fuck that means. No guy knows. It’s made up shit women come up with to give certain women higher status than the others in their lives. At this point though, it works in my favor.

  I touch the screen that feeds the live images of Kat and Maria. It’s going to be too easy. They both work at the same place. A very old building. One I’ve already scoped out. The time is now. The next day they are both together, it’s going down…and the place is going up in flames.

  Gillian

  When I wake up, I’m surrounded by warmth. Every inch of my body is pressed up against Chase’s. He’s holding me close, even deep in sleep. We arrived last night. The countryside was pitch black and the limo had darkened windows making it impossible to see anything, so I didn’t bother. Instead, I fell asleep with my head in Chase’s lap while he stroked my hair. It was lovely. At some point, we arrived at our destination, and I woke in Chase’s arms as he carried me up a flight of stairs before laying me down on the softest bed. Reminded me of our bed at the penthouse back home. Our real home. Not the Davis Estate.

  Slipping from Chase’s arms I sit up. The room is vast and charming, cottage-like, with a cathedral ceiling, exposed wooden beams and plush furniture. Large, wooden dressers line the walls with high back chairs facing a fireplace. Even though it looks a bit rustic, I can definitely see the hints of luxury. I expect nothing less from my overspender. Moving out of the bed, I see the bathroom. It’s smaller than what we have back home, but so is the bedroom. However, it does have a wonderfully, large, claw foot tub that definitely can fit two. It’s the biggest bathtub I’ve ever seen; I can’t wait to enjoy it with my man. The shower looks like it was right out of nature. It’s one-hundred percent made of rocks, giant boulder looking things that give off the scent of the Earth. I find the toilet and take care of business, wash my hands and exit on bare feet. I’m in Chase’s
t-shirt, and it smells deliciously like him and me.

  On quiet feet, I pad over to the French doors and open them wide. That’s when my breath leaves my body in a whoosh. “Oh my God,” I whisper still clutching the handles of the door. A warmth hits my back and two arms wrap around my body. Chase presses the length of himself against me then kisses my neck.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?”

  I look in wonder, complete and utter awe of the luscious, rolling, green hills that drop off to a cliff where the ocean sits beyond. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  “I’m glad you like your present.”

  “What do you mean my present?” I press into him, wanting to look into his eyes but not capable of letting go of this view just yet. It’s too much, too incredible to not give the entirety of my attention to it.

  I can feel Chase grin against my neck as he holds me. “I bought you this house. All that land you see, all the way to those cliffs is ours. Once your name is Mrs. Davis, you will get a copy of the deed.”

  “Chase,” I gasp. He has given me a home and land as a present. “It’s too much; Jesus look at it. No one should own this. It’s God’s country. It’s God’s gift to the world.”

  He shakes his head against my neck. “Nope, it’s my gift to you. And you will gift it to our children one day. Then maybe, our daughter or son will come here for their honeymoon and look out at this and dream of the children they’re going to leave it to. Then the Davis name, our legacy my love, will carry on through them. To infinity,” he says while rubbing that very symbol into the soft fabric of his shirt at my rib, just under the fullness of my breast, below my heart. Figure eights, over and over again. He paints such a beautiful image I want to have it with me always, and I get an idea. One I cannot tell him about. For it will be my gift to him on our wedding night. The wheels are turning in my mind as I stare out on the most stunning view I’ve ever seen.

  “I love how you see our future,” I share with him while bringing his hand up to my lips and kissing it slowly.

  “What do you want to do today, baby?” he asks clasping his hands around my hips and lifting the shirt up incrementally.

  “You mean after you make me scream your name over and over again?” I grin, turn in his arms and plant my lips on his. He slides his hands under my shirt, planting them firmly on my ass, and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he takes me back to our bed, in our new countryside home in Ireland.

  * * *

  Hand in hand we walk along the sidewalk up to a sign that says Welcome to Bantry Beanntrai, National Tidy Towns Gold Medal Winners and stop. There are boats dotting the surface of the water giving the small town a coastal feel that reminds me of home. On the right side of the street are lines of multicolored buildings only three to four stories high. Each building is attached to the next but painted a different bright color. Chase and I both silently take in the beauty of the small town we are now a part of. It feels like our first real connection to our new life together.

  “I love this place,” I say into the open crisp air swinging Chase’s arm.

  He pulls me close, and lays a kiss on my temple but doesn’t stop walking. We come up to a square of sorts where a giant anchor sits on the concrete. It looks like it came from a huge ship. I pull out my phone and push Chase in front of it. “Baby, I want to take your picture.”

  He chuckles, then stands in front of it posing like Superman. He is my Superman, and seeing him being silly lifts a huge weight of my chest. I snap a couple photos of him and then go over to the sign. “Says it’s an anchor from the French Armada force in 1796. It was discovered off the northeast point of Whiddy Island in Bantry Bay back in 1980 by a Dutch salvage company. Trippy.”

  Chase looks up at the huge anchor, in the middle of the town, then slowly brings his stunning gaze to me. “I like the symbolism. An anchor. We should get one for our home here.”

  I smile wide, run over, and jump up into his arms, legs back around his waist and kiss him. He swings me around, and I tip my head back allowing my hair to flow in the breeze. He lifts me up, kisses me, and sets me on my feet. “What was that for?”

  Shrugging I take in a breath. “I’m just so happy.”

  “I’m glad baby, because from here on out, it’s me and you kid.” He holds my hand, and we start walking once more. One guard is walking behind us, but I haven’t really seen him, just catch glimpses of him, now and again. Jack is across the street. He’s much easier to spot because I know him better, can anticipate his bulk. The other guys, I have no idea. Chase said he’s somewhere in front of us, making sure to keep an appropriate distance so we don’t feel they are invading, but he knows we’re safe. For me, I feel completely free of the burden we had back home.

  “Coming here, leaving San Francisco was the best decision we’ve made. I feel free here, Chase.”

  He nods. “Me too. The moment we got off the plane and then made it to the new house, there was something different in the air. It just felt, right.” I smile and sidle into his side looping my thumb into one of his belt loops. “You hungry?” After we woke, we made love, showered and then hopped into the little sports car Chase had in the garage. How it got there will always be a mystery, but I’ve come to understand that Chase just has things. He doesn’t worry about getting rentals, or planning travel. It just comes easy for him. Then again, when you have that kind of money at your disposal, I’d imagine getting a car parked in the garage of your new home wouldn’t be that hard.

  “Famished,” I say while people watching.

  Chase leads me to a place uniquely named Box of Frogs. It is a coffee house and bakery right under a bright sunflower orange building. The rich smells of cinnamon, sugar, and coffee make me salivate. We enter the warm space and I instantly brighten at the wide variety of perfectly dressed cupcakes. “Chase, we have to get some of these for the house!” I waggle my eyebrows. “You know, dessert for later.”

  He grins one of those panty-melting grins. “Absolutely, my sweet.” I roll my eyes. My sweet is the newest endearment he’s been trying on for size. I don’t mind. When he said it, his intent was clear…to remind me of exactly how sweet he thinks I taste. So that makes it worth it.

  “Babe, they also have a ton of cookies! You love cookies.” I point to the glass in front.

  He hugs me around the waist. “I do indeed. We’ll need to get a few dozen.”

  “A few?”

  He shrugs and I shake my head. We are greeted by a woman in a red apron and a hat that I usually attribute to old men who golf. I glance at the few men and women hustling around the bakery. They all seem to be wearing them. “I like your hat,” I said.

  “Oh, it’s day-cent,” the woman said. “You look like one of us, but you’re American.” She smiles, her Irish accent very thick.

  “We’re here for our wedding and our honeymoon. We actually bought a home up the way.”

  “Ah, big, faces the ocean?”

  I nod happily. “That’s the one.” She whistles and Chase puts an arm around my chest from behind and nuzzles my neck.

  “Making friends with the locals, baby?” He kisses my neck.

  “I am.”

  “What can I get ya two lovebirds,” she asks. I find that I want to find ways to make her speak. Her accent is adorable.

  “I’ll have one of those scones,” I point to the item.

  “It comes with jam and whipped cream.” She hits a few buttons on the register.

  “Um, why?”

  Her eyebrows scrunch together and Chase laughs. “Baby, that’s how the Irish eat a scone.”

  “Really?”

  “When in Rome.” I giggle. “I mean, when in Ireland.” The attendant waits patiently, likely having dealt with American’s before. “Okay, and my guy here with a sweet tooth would like to have a variety of your cookies.”

  “Biscuits.”

  This time I’m confused. “No,” I point to the case of cookies. “Cookies. Say three dozen?”
>
  “Make it four, Baby. You know how much I like them.”

  “You mean biscuits,” the overly perky, now annoying, Irish woman says.

  Just when I’m about to correct her again, Chase puts a hand on my shoulder. “Honey, biscuits are cookies to them.”

  “Then what do they call a biscuit?”

  “A scone.”

  I snap my head back. “But that’s absurd.”

  This time he shrugs. “Were not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”

  “Obviously not. I hope I can get the hang of this.” I cringe.

  He places our coffee order then leads me to a small table.

  The first bite into my scone makes it very clear why it needs the jam and whipped crème. It has absolutely no sugar in it. But with the jam and whipped crème, it’s heavenly. My vanilla latte on the other hand comes with a perfect amount of tasty, white foam that was made into a lovely leaf. I sip the liquid and moan around the cup. “I’m going to need another one of these.” I suck back some more of God’s sweet nectar.

  Chase laughs and leans back, then slips on his shades. He has a blue polo on, a sweater over his shoulders and a pair of aviator sunglasses. Me, I’m wearing a long, army-green skirt, knee-high, brown leather boots and a crème, cable-knit sweater, compliments of my new wardrobe. Chase didn’t pack any clothing. He called Chloe, who was already in Europe, and had her stylist buy and ship over clothing. The house assistant removed tags and placed everything in the closest and dressers. So, technically, she knows where we are, but since she’s in Europe, and hasn’t been part of everything that’s happened, she has no reason to share. And Chase assures me that she’s not going to interfere.

  “You look handsome,” I say pulling out my phone again. “Smile for me. I need a new background on my phone, and I want to remember you, right now.” He appeases me then decides he wants one of his own.