“You don’t mean that.” Fear, guilt, and shame, my three ugly friends, creep into my subconscious.
Bree’s normally warm blue eyes, ice over and narrow. “Don’t I? Phillip is lying here in a coma because of you. Because some fucking man wants to hurt you!” I gasp, but she continues with her verbal assault, striking while the iron is nice and hot. “Did it work? Are you hurting?”
Tears slip down my cheeks. I let them fall. “Yes,” I choke out.
“It’s not enough is it? He won’t stop. Who’s next, Gigi? Anabelle?” She stabs that verbal knife so far into my heart I clutch my chest and slam into the wall behind me. The tears race to the surface and spill over my cheeks as I crouch down low and hug my knees. Not Anabelle. Not my sweet angel baby. Images flash across my mind. Her adorably round face, eyes as blue as an unclouded sky on a sunny day, and her blonde curls bobbing along as she sings one of her many songs. My goddaughter.
Bree is now crouched in front of me. We’ve never been this close and not touched one another in some fashion, a small pat, a friendly gesture, something. Right now Bree’s hate is all I feel. It’s like a physical blanket, coating my tortured mind with more guilt.
“I’ll give myself up. I’ll let him take me,” I say through my tears. “I will. He can have me. I would never wish this on any of you. Not Phil, not my sweet baby girl, no one!” I say with as much conviction as possible. The idea has taken root as I watch Bree’s face crumble. She looks at me as if she’s never seen me before.
“Over my dead body,” I hear come from the door. Kat is holding a colorful array of fresh flowers. Her eyes assess both Bree and me. She sets the flowers on the one open spot on the side table. She comes around, her long maxi skirt flowing with her movements. The ocean. Everything she’s wearing is blue, indigo, aquamarine, and green. The fabric sways in soft swooshes as she stands in front of us, her hands on her hips. Peace. I close my eyes; they’re too full of tears to keep them open. Instead, I let the calm waves of her presence cool the overheated emotions within, like a wet towel over an open flame.
Bree stands abruptly. “Be careful, Kat. That just could happen.” Sorrow rips through me again as Bree makes her way to Phil and slides a hand down his face from temple to chin.
“Come here,” Kat holds out her arms to me and I stand weakly then crumble into her. She pets my hair, soothes a hand down my back, hugging me tightly until I calm down. She pulls away, a hand still in my hair, one holding my bicep. “This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” She says it then puts her head against my forehead. Our eyes lock. Carmel to green. “You hear me?” I nod. “Good. Now, there will be no sacrificing ourselves to wackos. We’re in this together,” Kat shakes her head up and down until she’s got me mimicking her “yes” gesture.
“What are we in together?” Maria says as she walks in, tripping over her own feet. She leans heavily against the wall, catching herself before she falls. I take a deep breath and pull back from Kat’s arms, wiping the errant tears away. Bree is standing with her arms crossed and a hip cocked. “Wha’d I miss?”
“I’m surprised you made it here alive,” Bree says in a haughty tone. I’m not even sure I know this woman. Bree has never spoken to anyone with such malice before.
“Discúlpeme? What’s she talking about?” Maria asks while entering the room and setting her rehearsal bag down on floor. She’s wearing her standard dancing gear, black workout leggings and a loose jersey shirt over her sports bra. Probably stopping in before she’s due at the theatre.
I can’t respond, the sadness swallowing my ability to form words. Bree doesn’t hesitate. “Well, the odds of any of us surviving, until Gigi’s stalker can be found, are slim to none. Tell them about the note,” she grates. Her head tips to the side as she looks at me, fear controlling her tongue. I stand mute not capable of speech. She continues undaunted. “The stalker left a note a few days ago, right here on Phillip’s bed.” She points to the foot of the hospital bed. “Admitted to being the one to plant the bomb in the gym and then insinuated that someone was next!” Her pretty eyes narrow.
Kat gasps placing a hand over her mouth. Maria’s form tightens, her spine becomes straight as an arrow, hands clenching at her sides. “I cannot wait to get my manos on this psycho.” She inhales audibly. “¡Está muerto!” He’s dead, she pronounces.
“No, the last thing we need is for you to go crazy, Ria. Bree’s right; this is my fault. Whoever it is, wants me. Even though Chase and Tommy are working to find him, it feels useless. Everything is turning to shit. Just like Bree said! I should just let him take me!” I wave my hands in the air like a deranged person. I’m actually starting to feel deranged. Looks like I’ll be needing double the amount of visits to Dr. Madison in the very near future.
“You will do no such thing! That’s crazy talk, Gigi. You can’t put yourself in harm’s way to protect us. He could kill you! Then what would we have. A dead best friend,” Kat’s voice is layered with emotion but she’s valiantly holding it together. I wish I were as strong as she is right now.
Maria comes over to me and hugs me tight. I can see Bree cringe and look away. How could this happen? This freak is breaking me apart, shredding the lives of everyone that I love around me. Something has to be done. The idea of planting myself somewhere the stalker can get to me is growing, ready to bloom as a plan starts to form. I could do it. Save my friends, Chase, little Anabelle. Then no one would be hurt again.
“I can hear you thinking, Cara Bonita. You are not doing this. No matter what. ¿Me escuchas? You hear me? Don’t you dare, throw yourself in front of this loco fucker!” Maria cups my cheeks and waits for me to nod. Her ice blue eyes are hard, unyielding. It reminds me of Chase when he’s in a “non-negotiable” mood. Chase. I need Chase.
Bree huffs, “It’s not a bad idea, using her as bait. The freak will surely come for his precious prize,” her words lash out, as painful as a whip, splitting me open, cutting right into my heart.
Kat bristles at Bree’s words hugging her body. Ria turns around and faces our soul sister. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you seriously suggesting Gigi, our hermana, risk death as punishment for Phillipe or just to save yourself!”
Bree’s eyes fill with tears. It’s the first time since I arrived that I’ve seen a shred of the real Bree. The woman I would throw myself in front of a speeding train to save. Her shoulders slump down, her upper body caving in. She looks down, completely defeated.
Unfortunately, Maria does not pick up on Bree’s distress. “Did you get a hit to the cabeza? Are you loco?” she continues undaunted.
Bree’s shoulders quake, her entire body rattles as she holds herself up against the back of the hospital chair. “I’m sorry, Gigi, I don’t know…” she starts, tears spilling down her cheeks as her eyes meet mine. The apology is clear in her gaze. She is devastated. “I didn’t mean it, Oh my god, what have I done!” her voice cracks. I run over to her and pull her into my arms, holding her so tight I may actually bruise her. She doesn’t seem to care, sobbing into the crook of my neck, letting three weeks of pain out, in a tidal wave of loss. Anguish pours from her, a palpable thing, as I hold her.
“I’m not c-crazy,” Bree chokes out against my hair, wiping her tears and her snotty nose along my shoulder. I welcome it. Anything that will give her a moment’s respite from the fear and uncertainty plaguing us all. Especially Bree, who probably doesn’t even realize she’s completely fallen in love with Phillip. Right now, she needs to find her center.
I stroke her hair and hold her to me. “You’re not crazy or insane honey,” I tell her soothingly.
She hiccups as another wave of tears pour down her face. “No, I’m not…I’m pregnant,” she announces. The entire room goes dead silent. I pull her back and look into her teary, tortured face. Three pairs of eyes focus solely on her. She nods, then crumbles into a heap of tissue and bones as I hold her up.
All three of us gather around, putting all of our love into our circle of protection. Our t
rinity. Together, holding one another, we let it all go.
X
So, Yoga Barbie is pregnant. Yee-frickin’ haw. This is too good. I couldn’t have planned this better myself. She just moved right up to the top of the fucking list. Taking her and her bastard child out in one swoop? If that doesn’t send a big, giant, flashing message to my girl, nothing will. I’m almost giddy at hearing the news through the bug I planted under the hospital bed. Chase’s people keep underestimating me. You’d think after blowing up the gym, and leaving my calling card, by way of a note on the bed, they’d take me more seriously. Their stupidity, my good fortune.
I pull out the pictures of Bree Simmons and her studio, I Am Yoga. Stupid fucking name. She is yoga? How about, “I Am Dead,” because that’s what she’s going to be much sooner than I planned. My princess and her other two bitches will lose it, make mistakes, once I take out the tiny blonde. Kill her and her kid off and they’ll all be too busy mourning the loss to really focus on keeping me away. That’s when I’ll strike. The funeral will be perfect. I know where that blonde bitch’s family goes to church—St. Patrick’s down on Mission. They’re sure to plan services there. It’s big, and pretentious, just like her family. It makes you wonder how the blonde turned to yoga and a Buddhist way, when her family are die hard Catholics. No matter.
All I have to do now is make sure I have access in advance along with an exit route. That Catholic Church sits on an old, unused, sewer system. Perfect for dragging an unconscious, five foot seven or so redhead. Then, I’ll finally have my girl right where I want her. Somewhere no one will ever find her.
Sitting back, I plop my shiny wingtips right on top of Bree Simmons’s attractive face in the black and white image. She’ll be prettier when I give her a new smile…from ear to ear. I can hardly wait to watch her bleed out.
Chapter 10
Gillian
It’s been a week since Bree’s breakdown and our fight in the hospital room. An entire seven days of avoiding Maria, Bree, and Kat completely. I’ve seen Dr. Madison twice this week. He’s warned me several times not to put distance between myself and the ones I love, but I haven’t listened. Knowing that Phillip was targeted and hurt because of me, that he’s in a coma and may never wake up? It’s weighing too heavily, swallowing me whole.
The doctors say his body is healing well, and that when he wakes up he’ll have already made it past the most painful part of recovery aside from physical therapy. Chase has made certain that Phillip receives round-the-clock care, by way of making a hefty million dollar donation to the hospital. He didn’t tell me he made the donation. I overheard him talking to Dana a couple weeks ago. Instead of bringing it up to him, I let it be. I want Phil to have the best possible care, and if my fiancé can make it happen, then I’ll choke down my pride and let it be. Especially now.
“Baby, get dressed.” Chase enters the closet behind me and pulls out one of my favorite gauzy maxi dresses and a soft cardigan. Dana absolutely hates the dresses I refuse to get rid of. She says they are too boxy for my thin frame. I think they feel like Heaven, but it’s Friday morning, and I need to put on my work attire.
“Chase, its Friday.” I pull out a heather grey pencil skirt and a pastel pink shell. Chase grabs the hangers from my hands and puts the maxi dress and cardigan in its place.
“We’re taking a personal day. I’ve already arranged it. Hawthorne knows how hard you’ve been working and agreed to the time. Said to consider it a comp day.” He waggles his dark brows, pulls me into a clinch and kisses me.
I breathe in his citrus and sandalwood scent that has become the most calming smell in the entire world and rub my nose into his chest.
“I’m taking you out on a date,” Chase announces.
I’m certain that my face must show my surprise, because he cups my cheeks and nuzzles my nose. “I haven’t done right by not wooing you. Today is about us, and enjoying the city. You need a break away from everything, and I need time alone with you,” he kisses the corner of my mouth and drags his morning scruff down the column of my neck, sending chills racing down to my toes. After a quick lick, a bite, and a tender kiss to that spot he adores, the juncture where neck meets shoulder, he pulls away. “Wear the comfy dress. I know you love it, and I love you. Today is about just being us.”
Just being us.
Six months ago, I would never have thought I’d be standing here in my sleep tank and panties while the most gorgeous man alive, my fiancé, claims he’s taking me on a date to just be us. What does “us” even look like? The past several months have been beautiful and devastating, rife with happiness, pleasure, pain, guilt, trauma and everything in between. I feel as though we’ve lived more life in half a year, than most couples do in an entire lifetime of being married.
A small smile lifts the corners of my mouth as I cling to the dress. “Where are you taking me?” I ask while he takes a short-sleeved polo in bright yellow down from a hanger. I watch as he pulls out a pair of khaki chinos from the neat stack. Once I remove my tank and throw on a new bra and panties, I lift the maxi dress over my body, and it falls in a sweep of comfy cotton. It’s a swirling mix of purples and blues with a one-inch strap at the shoulders. I grab the sweater and enter the bathroom.
“Leave your hair down. I like seeing it blow in the wind,” Chase murmurs from behind me.
“Okay,” I give him a coy smile and he digs a hand into the back of my hair landing on the nape of my neck. He rubs circles into the skin under my ear. He gives just a hint of pressure then proceeds to his side of the bathroom where he completes his morning routine.
Once we’re both done and have a light breakfast, consisting of a half bagel, crème cheese and fruit, we’re on our way. When we get down to the garage, I expect Chase to usher me into one of his fancy cars. I don’t know much about cars, but the little wings on one car and the shield with a lion on another tell me they probably cost more than everything my three girlfriends and I own all put together. Instead of cars, I’m greeted by six men all in black suits. New security.
“Okay guys, if the stalker is watching, he will assume that Mr. Davis and Miss Callahan are with me or Mr. Campbell. We will be driving the decoy cars. You two,” Jack points to a couple giant NFL sized men I’ve never met before, “will be taking them wherever Mr. Davis directs. I expect detailed reports sent to me every twenty minutes. If I don’t receive them, I will assume something is wrong. Regardless, I’ll be tracking both of our charges with the GPS on their phones and the vehicle.”
To my left, I see three perfectly matched black SUVs with blackened out windows. “Is this really necessary?” I nudge Chase in the shoulder while whispering in his ear.
He looks down at me and his eyes are hard, unshakable. It’s the same way he looks at an adversary in the boardroom. Serious, and in complete control. “I do what it takes to protect what’s mine. Your safety is non-negotiable.” There’s that word again. I should make a game out of how many times he says the word “non-negotiable.” I roll my eyes, and he puts an arm around my shoulder bringing me close before placing a soft kiss at my temple. “Just play along, my love,” he says and those words remind me that he’s still my Chase. The man that loves me, the one who can be jovial, sweet, and heart-meltingly honest behind closed doors. My fiancé. The man who will grow old with me and always put me first.
“You’re mine, too, you know,” I snuggle into his neck and nip the tender skin there. He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. His hugs could heal the world, but he doesn’t give them to just anyone. I’ve only ever seen him hug his family and not an all over body embrace, like the ones he gives me. No, those are just for me.
Chase holds me tighter as Jack finishes up his orders. “To forever, Baby,” he says then pulls away and clasps my hand. “Enough. Time’s wasting,” he barks and ushers me to enter one of the black SUVs. We get settled in the back and our new security fills the front.
Gillian
First stop is 16th street. Chase t
akes a calming breath and exits the car. He offers his hand and helps me exit the large vehicle. Our bodyguards stay close but out of the way.
“Where are we?” I ask looking around at the busy street. San Francisco is wonderfully diverse. People from all walks of life, all ethnicities converge into this urban melting pot. There are people in fierce suits blindly focused on wherever they are headed. Hipsters fill local cafes and bookstores alongside busy families, shuffling their kids to and fro.
Chase clasps my hand and turns down the street. “You’ll see,” he grins and I almost stop walking to just stare at the open happiness he’s gifting me and the world around us. We walk a few blocks until we’re between Moraga and Noriega. Chase stops and points to the very bottom of a staircase. “Look.” I follow his finger to a spot over my shoulder. I slowly walk over and I’m greeted by the most stunning sight. It’s a rainbow staircase but, it’s not exactly a rainbow.
Small mosaic tiles coalesce together to create a myriad of images. My gaze jumps from point to point, unable to still on one facet. It’s breathtaking, unique and quite possibly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. “How?” I whisper trying to take the wonder in.
“It was built in 2005. Over three hundred community volunteers, local businesses and individual donors came together to bring artists Aileen Barr and Colette Crutcher’s design to fruition.” I take a couple steps up and view the sweeping colors made completely of tiny tiles. “There’s a hundred and sixty three steps in all. I love the moon in the center. On a clear night, it seems to reflect the real moon’s rays making it unearthly.” I scan the stairs all the way up until I see the giant moon in the center with dark swirling tiles around it.
Mind (Trinity Trilogy Book 2) Page 13