Mind (Trinity Trilogy Book 2)

by Audrey Carlan

  The detective pulls out a camera from the bag she must have brought in. “I’m sorry Mr. Davis. Mr. Durham’s injuries are life threatening. In order to prove that man is the hero you claim he is, we need proof. Otherwise it’s he said, she said in court, and Gillian’s not the one in surgery for a beating that could have taken her life. The attacker is.” She finishes.

  “Fine,” he growls through his teeth. That jaw is working overtime and the muscle within is flickering like a lighter being turned on and off. “Let’s get this out of the way so she can rest.”

  “Lights,” she nods to Chase. He goes over to the wall and turns on the light to the highest setting. It’s bright and blinding. It’s as if I’m center stage and the big light is directly on me. Probably what Maria feels when she’s dancing, only she flourishes in the light. Right now, I want to cower and hide, protect my body from pitiful gazes.

  Athena looks at me, that soft, genuine glint I see in her eyes giving me the strength to do what she says. “Hold your hair away from your face,” she instructs. Her camera flashes as she takes pictures of the bruises all over my face, and around my upper arms from where he gripped me and held me back. Then she snaps close ups of the bite mark and hickey on my neck. Chase actually growls when my hair is moved and that mark comes into view. Chase thinks of the space between my neck and shoulder as his special spot. Now some other man has tainted that, for us both. I refuse to let the tears come back. It will be harder to pull through if I’m a sobbing mess.

  “Okay, now your shirt,” she says. I close my eyes knowing this is going to be devastating. I downplayed the treatment of my breasts in my recollection for Chase’s benefit. When my shirt comes off, the finger print shaped bruises are everywhere. Chase tips his head back and grips his hair. I choke down the emotion raging a war inside me, wanting so badly to comfort him.

  “Gigi, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to remove your bra. I promise your face will not be in them but we have to be thorough.” I knew it was coming but it doesn’t change the gut wrenching fear of having to do this again. It’s the first time in years that naked, battered pictures of me have been taken.

  With a hand behind my back I flick the clasp of the comfy sleep bra I’d put on after the doctor checked me over. Taking a deep breath I finally I let my arms hang down in front of me. The detective’s mouth opens in shock and her eyes close before she gets a grip and pulls the camera up to take the pictures. Chase looks at my chest and then falls to his knees, head hanging in defeat, fisted hands barely holding up his form. It’s like a knife stabbing me in the heart watching him break down.

  Bruises dot both of my breasts but that’s not what’s killing him. No, it’s the full mouth bite mark around my right nipple. I recall the pain right at the end of the attack just before he must have been pulled off me. Looking down, I had no idea how bad it was. I’m greeted with angry, bloody indents, spaced evenly in a half moon shape from the top and bottom of Justin’s teeth. The nipple is completely discolored a sickening purplish black where blood rose to the surface. Probably from the trauma of teeth clamping down prior to being yanked off.

  The camera flashes just as I look up. Instantly I’m propelled to another time, another room where a detective stands in front of me.

  Ms. Callahan, I’m going to need you to remove your shirt and underclothes so I can take pictures of the injuries. The detective is a large woman. I’d classify her as being very butch. Her hair is cropped short to her scalp and not a speck of makeup is applied to gentle her facade. It’s clear this woman is tough as nails and just as pointy. She seems almost irritated that she has to take pictures of my beating.

  “Um, can we just skip this? I don’t plan on pressing charges,” I whisper through a busted, bleeding lip. I can still taste the blood on my tongue.

  The detective looks at me like I’m insane. “Are you kidding? You’re just going to let some man beat on you like a punching bag and get away with it? This is for your own good,” she lifts the camera and snaps a photo. “Take off your gown,” she says and the tone of her voice reminds me so much of Justin I do what she says on autopilot, afraid she might lash out.

  Tears slide down my face as she snaps picture after picture of my naked body. Then she crouches low in front of me and looks at my thighs getting really close to me. I step back as much in fear as embarrassment. “Don’t move, I need to capture the bruising on your thighs where he forced open your legs and raped you.”

  Raped me. Did he rape me? No, Justin loves me. He just gets out of hand sometimes because he loves me so much. He tells me over and over how much I mean to him. How beautiful I am, how he loves to see his marks on me. He does it out of love. He doesn’t realize how much force he uses.

  I jump back and pull the hospital blanket over me. “I wasn’t raped. Things…he uh, just got carried away. I wanted it. Him. He loves me and I love him. I’m not pressing charges. It was an accident,” I nod repeatedly and wrap the blanket completely around my body and sit on the bed.

  The detective comes close. I can smell cigarettes as she gets near. It reminds me of Justin. They probably smoke the same brand. She puts a hand on my shoulder and I flinch, she removes it quickly.

  “What that man did to you wasn’t love,” she starts. I shake my head.

  “I don’t care what you say, I’m not pressing charges. I want you to leave.”

  The detective inhales then sighs loudly like she’s being put out by being here. I wish she’d just go. Save someone else. Someone who’s truly a victim, and leave me the hell alone. “Gillian, that man put his hands on you in anger. He punched you so many times your ribs are black and blue, two of them fractured,” she starts.

  “I fell down the stairs after we made love,” I say in defense. That didn’t happen but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “No you didn’t. He. Beat. You. Up. Don’t you get it? Can you be that dense?” The fear digs into my soul and I start to shake. “He’s going to keep hitting you until you’re fucking dead. Do you hear me? Dead. He doesn’t love you, he loves hurting you.”

  If this is her way of trying to get me to see reason, it isn’t working. Right now, I just want Justin. I don’t think she should be talking to me like this. I’m only nineteen, scared, and I want my boyfriend.

  “Where’s Justin? I need Justin,” I whisper.

  “In jail until I get your statement. Without it, he’ll be released.”

  “You’re not getting anything from me. My boyfriend and I had sex. He didn’t rape me or beat me. Things got heated and after, I fell down the stairs. Now get out of here!” I scream.

  The doctor rushes in. “I think she’s had quite enough. Gillian, get back in bed. We need to wrap your ribs and tend to your wounds. Detective, have you gotten what you need…” the doctor asks but she doesn’t answer.

  Everything gets hazy, warps and fogs. A soft pinprick of light slowly opens at the center of my vision getting steadily bigger, bringing me back to a different room in the here and now. Arms are around me, a blanket covering my naked body. “Detective, have you gotten what you need?” Chase’s voice clears the cobwebs of the past. “Baby, you’re shaking. Was it another flashback?” he asks and I nod. “Okay, we’re done here,” he says to the detective.

  “I’ve got everything I need. Gillian, I’ve got your statement recorded. We’ll have it transcribed and you’ll have to review it and sign it. It should be ready in a couple of days.” I nod and turn into Chase’s chest. For the first time I can breathe.

  The detective leaves and Chase brings me to the bed. “I want to go home,” I tell him. “Take me home,” he nods and sits me on the bed. With great effort and extreme care, he puts one of his undershirts on me. I stand and he slips a pair of his boxers over my legs. Then he grabs a thick fuzzy robe from the closet and wraps me in it. He goes back into the closet comes out with pajama pants and a hoodie on, and my comfy slippers Maria bought me for Christmas. He bends down and brings each slipper to my foot as I step
into it.

  He links our fingers together, palm-to-palm and a sense of calm settles over me. Chase leads me out of the room. Jack sees us and grabs a set of keys. “Where to Sir?” he asks.

  “Penthouse. My fiancée wants to go home.” Jack curtly dips his chin. I’m certain he doesn’t like this plan since the security at the mansion is much stronger but Chase is not a man you say no to when he’s made up his mind. Jack snaps at two guys. I recognize them as Maria and Kat’s bodyguards. “You two come with me tonight. I’ll have reinforcements sent over within the hour.” As we wait by the door, Jack goes over to Bree’s bodyguard. “Don’t let any of them leave until replacements have been sent. Got it?” he tells the tall beefy man. It dawns on me that I don’t even remember his name. Too many whacks to the head this evening.

  The big guy nods but responds, “Why are you so worried? We got the guy tonight, right? He’s in jail?”

  Then Jack says something that sends shivers down my spine and gooseflesh to appear on my skin. “We don’t know that Justin Durham is the stalker. After seeing the guy, I don’t think he is. Redding will know for sure by morning.”

  Chase rubs a hand down my arm. I wince but I don’t tell him to stop. It’s comforting more than it hurts. Having his hands on me is the only thing right now that can take away the filth of Justin’s hands.

  “Let’s go,” Chase orders as the two continue to argue about the stalker. I stop paying attention. There’s nothing I want more than to be home with Chase.

  The car ride seems longer than normal. When we enter the Penthouse tears prick at my eyes. This is home. Not some pink room with ugly pristine decorations. Chase leads me into the master bedroom. Even though the room is musty from being closed up it’s still the best thing I’ve seen in a really long time.

  “What would make you feel better, Gillian?” Chase asks softly as I scan our bed, the floor to ceiling windows, the decorations I haven’t had a chance to change yet. Still it’s more home than anywhere else. It’s where I first slept the night with Chase and where I want to spend tonight wrapped in his arms.

  I look longingly at the bed but my skin feels itchy and crawling with Justin’s filth. “I’m dirty. Need to be clean,” I mumble. He leads me into our bathroom. He dims the lights down so it’s less glaringly obvious how ugly the marks are. Slowly he removes the robe then the shirt. I cover my battered breasts with one arm and tilt my head down. He carefully takes off the boxers and panties. Then he turns around and starts the shower, all without saying a word. I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling and it’s making me sick to my stomach.

  When the water is the right temperature, he opens the door and leads me into it. I step under the warm spray protecting my chest and the raw flesh. Shivers wrack my frame until the most comforting arms in the universe encase me from behind. I lean into the naked chest of my man and close my eyes taking the comfort he gives just by holding me.

  For long minutes, we stand there. He holds me until I wiggle and turn around chest to chest. It throbs when my breast hits his chest, but I don’t care. Nothing could prevent me from being in his arms, hearing his heart pound in my ear, feeling his hands rubbing my back.

  “I’m going to wash you now,” he pulls back and grabs my bodywash.

  “No, yours,” I say teeth chattering. Being surrounded by everything that is Chase is what I want right now. His scent makes me feel even closer to him. I want it flooding my senses. The shaking and chattering continues. It’s as if I can’t get warm enough. I turn around and set the temperature hotter. When I turn back, Chase is pouring the soap into a washcloth. “Hands,” I say as his eyes meet mine. He nods stiffly. I put my hand out to have him squirt it into my hands. He looks at me, his eyes filled with hurt, anger, and sorrow.

  He shakes his head. “I take care of what’s mine,” I shake my head hastily. He grips my hand with his, “Baby, I have to,” his voice is horse and unsteady, full of raw need. I close my eyes and wait.

  He lifts my arm and slides his hand up and over the limb, briefly washing over the bruises on my biceps and wrists. I’ve got the other arm over the wound on my chest. He rubs his hands over my clavicle making his way to the other arm. I switch arms so fast I’m certain he didn’t have to see the worst of Justin’s tirade. Chase lifts the arm and uses his hands to soothe up and down, effectively washing away the memory of that horrible mans’ touch…at least for the time being.

  Chase turns me around, pulls my wet hair into one long rope and sends it over my shoulder. He squirts more liquid into his hands and washes my back, down my bum and along the back of each leg and back up. I inhale at the familiar caress knowing it’s Chase, the man who loves me and would never touch me in anger. When he makes his way all the way back he leads me to the water letting his hands follow the suds down my skin and to the floor. From behind, he leans forward and places his lips against the giant mark Justin left on my neck. He runs his tongue over the bruised flesh then kisses it no less than twenty times in soft baby pecks. “Still my spot,” he murmurs and I choke back a sob, putting a hand out to the cold tile to hold me up as I nod my head so he knows I couldn’t agree more.

  With light fingers, he spins me to face him. Then he grabs the bottle of men’s shower gel, adds another dollop, rubs his hands together and crouches low. He grabs a foot, smoothes his hand up one leg making sure to wash it completely, then repeats the same action on the other side. Every muscle is finally relaxing, turning to jelly under his comforting ministrations. Chase has always known exactly how to touch me. From the very first time until now, he just instinctively knows what’s best for me.

  He stands and squirts more gel on his hands and then looks at me sternly. “Remove your arm, baby.”

  “No, I don’t want you to see what he did again.” I allow all the emotion, shame, and disgust to fill my words.

  “Every part of you is beautiful. Every inch of you perfect, and all mine. I’m taking back what he touched.” His words brook no argument. “Non-negotiable,” he uses the word that never ceases to make me smile. He’s such a broody, but demonstrative man, and I love every inch of him.

  “Only if I can touch you, too,” I say.

  “Always, I’m yours. Every atom, every muscle, every bit of skin and bone, it’s yours for the taking.”

  Tears slip down my cheeks adding to the water already coating our bodies. On a deep breath, I move my arms from my chest and place my hands on his abdomen. The thick muscles bunch and tighten under my hands. I don’t look down at his manhood because I don’t want to know that he’s disgusted with me, that my naked body right now isn’t going to excite him, turn him on. I’ve never been naked in front of him without seeing his reaction to me there, virile and prevalent between his thighs.

  Chase doesn’t say anything. His eyes gobble up every inch of my wounded breasts. Slowly his hands cup the sides of the globes. He uses his thumbs to spread the soap over each nipple. I suck in a breath through my teeth as the soap covers the small open sores from Justin’s teeth.

  “Just breathe, baby,” he coos coming closer. That’s when I feel it, his hard flesh prodding my belly. I grip his shoulders and lean my forehead against his, emotions drowning me with relief.

  “I was so afraid.” My voice cracks.

  “I know, but I’m here. He’s never going to touch you again, I swear it.” And I believe him but that’s not what’s bothering me.

  I shake my head. “You don’t understand…”

  “What don’t I understand?” He continues to wash my breasts, down my sides and belly.

  “I didn’t think you’d want me, now that you’ve seen me like this.” I hug him close and he wraps his arms around me. The spray pelts against the sore muscles between my shoulder blades.

  Chase kisses my temple. “Gillian, if you’re naked, I want you. Bruised or not. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched in my life. Will ever touch again,” he promises.

  “Then love me, right now,” I plead
.

  He shakes his head. “Don’t you see, me touching you…” he swallows and I watch his Adams apple bob. “That is me loving you.” And he’s right. Every touch of his skin shaves away another layer of the attack from my consciousness.

  I slide my hand down and fist his erection. “Then make love to me,” I beg.

  He pulls my hand away, brings up my fingers to his mouth and kisses each one individually. “I will Baby, when you’re better,” he uses that non-negotiable tone I’m usually so fond of. Right now I want to smash it into smithereens.

  I hang my head and exhale. He’s not going to touch me until I’ve healed. I hate Justin even more now. Chase turns off the water, wraps me in a thick towel then dries me slowly. He grabs another towel and ties it around his waist hiding away his desire from my greedy eyes. Again, he takes his time kissing each bruise one by one until I’m aching for him. He gets near the apex of my thighs and inhales. His eyes shoot to mine, “Christ, Gillian, I can smell you,” he groans and I widen my legs offering myself. He mumbles something I can’t hear, gets close, and nuzzles the skin inhaling. “That for me?” he licks his lips.

  “Always,” I whisper. He closes his eyes almost as if he’s fighting with himself. I know the moment I’ve won because he moves my body to the vanity seat setting me down. Slowly he opens the towel and says the words that catapult me back to a similar, happier time.

  “I’m going to give you some relief, but I’m not making love to you until you’ve healed,” he says and I nod happily. I know my man so well. He can’t ignore a wet pussy, especially when he considers it his pussy.

  Chase lifts my hips, makes sure I’m leaning against the wall and comfortable before opening my legs. He bites down on his fat bottom lip and looks at the arousal waiting for him. The man is twisted in the sexiest ways. His hands slide under my bottom tilting my pelvis and opening me further. He’s on his knees in front of me and it’s the most sensual sight. Exactly what I need to see to erase the horror from earlier. Chase leans down and laps at the slick folds, delving his tongue deep. With one hand, I hold onto his hair and tug. He growls and sucks me harder swirling around my clit with the most talented tongue. Before long I’m panting, my head pounding in pain, though I won’t stop grinding into his face. He takes me to the pinnacle of pleasure and then pushes me over it, into a blinding, satisfying orgasm. Chase licks and kisses me through my release.