Cut to the Chase (15 page)

A
lthough his patience was growing thin, Scott knew that it was in his best interest to steer clear of his Angel's house for a few days. Her neighbor's house would be swarming with police as they conducted their investigation and tried to decipher whether the clever woman's death was a homicide or just an unfortunate accident. Regardless of how the old hag died, her death would surely bring Mia home. If she was in Philadelphia working on a profile, it was just a matter of time until someone reached out to her and told her that her pet sitter was dead and that her yellow Lab was in need of his owner.

The thought of not seeing his Angel for a few days distressed him. But what sent him into a near rage, even as he sat in front of his computer at work, was the frustrating fact that Montclair and his Whore were still in Philadelphia. He had debated for less than a minute whether he should go to Philly and put an end to his misery. But he would definitely be missed and was afraid that if questions were asked, if fingers started to point in his direction, he wouldn't have a solid story to cling to.

He would await their return. And when the moment was right, when he was certain nothing could ever get back to him, he would destroy them all, starting with Montclair.

Unfortunately, the soup shop was a dead end. After a little digging around with some seemingly innocent questions for the owner, Mia and Paul discovered that the shop hadn't started serving dinner until just a few months ago. They had been a breakfast-and-lunch joint at the time of the rape and would have closed for the day by four o'clock in the afternoon. No one, at least from the establishments across the street, would have witnessed anything strange going on in the cemetery because they would have closed up for the night. The rapist had planned his attack well.

“Did you always walk Erin home from class?” Mia asked.

Paul had been quiet since they had left the place. He seemed frustrated that their trip didn't prove worthwhile. Although she didn't have her hopes up that someone in the shop would have remembered something that happened across the street over a year ago, it still was a great disappointment.

Paul pulled into the visitor' parking lot at CHOP and parked the car. But he didn't make a move to exit the vehicle, at least not immediately. “Most nights, Erin walked home with friends. But every once in a while, she would stay late to study and call me to come get her.”

“What happened that night?” she asked, treading lightly.

“She stayed after class to speak with Dr. Farrell. Her friends had left, probably to celebrate the end of exams. I had been drinking with a few buddies, cheering ourselves for passing the Bar, when I received her text that she was heading home…alone. I nearly lost it. I can't explain it, but it was like I knew something bad was going to happen to her. I raced out of the pub and well…you know the rest.”

Unfortunately, she did. And it was heartbreaking to know that he blamed himself for not reaching his sister in time. “It's not your fault, Paul. None of this could have been predicted.”

“She's my sister. And I should have been there for her. She was raped because I chose to go out and toss a few back. She was raped because I didn't make it in time.”

Mia felt like she was looking into a mirror. All she had to do was swap out the “she was raped” with “my father killed himself.” What a morbid thing to have in common. Before Mia could respond, he exited his vehicle. The conversation was apparently over.

Although Paul had remained quiet as they entered the hospital, Mia noticed that he hadn't physically distanced himself from her. His hand had taken residence at the small of her back the moment she had gotten out of his car. And it remained there as they reached guest reception, during their short walk to the elevator, and while they ascended seven floors. Mia realized even in the short time that she had known him that he had a possessive personality. Paul would probably admit it freely if she voiced this observation. She imagined that it felt natural for him, comforting, to want to keep the people he was with safe. The rape only compounded his innate desire to protect.

And now that his sister was far away, safe and under Chase and Uncle Drew's protection, she could only assume that Paul had shifted his need to watch over someone onto her. She didn't want to read into the gentlemanly gesture too much. And she certainly shouldn't dwell on or allow herself to replay that kiss in her mind over and over again. Emotions were running high at the moment and for good reason. Paul and Erin hadn't returned to Philadelphia since the incident and it was expected that they would struggle with coming face-to-face with the past. Still, Mia had to admit to herself that Paul's firm but gentle hand on her back made her melt. The elevator chimed, casting Mia out of her teenaged delirium.

Mia and Paul had decided the previous night that she would do most of the talking. He would be her quiet sidekick, taking notes, even donning a camera to solidify the charade. Mia looked over at the nurse's station and was happy to see what appeared to be a veteran nurse. She seemed comfortable behind the desk as she stroked her computer keys with remarkable speed.

Mia inhaled as she approached. “Good morning. My name is Mia. I'm writing the article about Dr. Mitchell Morris,” she said with confidence. The older nurse stared at her for a moment, clearly bewildered by her presence. “I called yesterday…spoke to…hmm, forgot her name, but I asked if it would be okay if I came in and asked the people that Dr. Morris was close to a few questions.” Mia smiled, trying to soften the approach. “It's a tribute article, a way to memorialize a great doctor and…”

“And a great man,” the nurse said, finishing Mia's thought.

That was the in Mia needed. The nurse announced to one of the assistants behind the station that she was taking her break and escorted them down the hallway. Mia thought that she was taking them to the lounge or an empty room for patients to talk, but when she unlocked the heavy oak door, Mia realized her good fortune.

“No one can bear going through his things. I suspect that his office will remain untouched for a while. Dr. Morris's passing was such a…shock…a tragedy,” she said, struggling with the last word. Mia could tell that the woman was in pain and instantly felt bad for exploiting his death. But Mia pushed those pangs of guilt aside and focused on what led her here, instead: Erin.

The nurse took a seat in one of the leather chairs across from a grand desk and Mia followed her lead. Out of all the hospital staff members she could have approached, Mia had apparently picked Clara, the floor's most seasoned nurse, who had worked alongside Dr. Mitchell Morris for over twenty years. Mia learned more about Dr. Morris than she had hoped.

“And his wife, how he loved her. I've never seen someone so devoted to his family,” Clara said, fighting desperately to hold back the tears.

Mia looked over at the desk and focused on an eight-by-ten-inch family photo. Dr. Mitchell Morris had his arm around his wife's waist while Scott Morris, in a graduation cap and gown, stood next to his mother, smiling.

“They must have been so proud of their son. I understand that Scott Morris has become a successful doctor in his own right,” Mia said, returning her gaze on Clara.

The warmth that had been in Clara's eyes, that gentleness, left her at the mention of Dr. Morris's son. “Scott may favor his father in looks, but he's nothing like his father.”

Her tone was curt, almost accusatory. Mia had hit a nerve. And it was about time. “Oh, am I mistaken? Scott Morris is not a doctor?” Mia asked, allowing her eyes to grow wide with mock innocence.

“He's a doctor, but that's where the similarity ends,” Clara said. She was staring at the photo with what appeared to be utter disgust. “I never told Mitchell what I thought, not that it would have mattered, but his boy is the coldest human being I have ever met. I never understood how Mitchell and his wife could have a child like that. Scott was an unappreciative youngster that grew into an egocentric man.”

Clara broke down after that last jab and Mia leaned over to hug her. The woman was clearly grief stricken over the loss of her friend, which was causing her to unload some feelings that she had been harboring for years. “I guess I'm still angry that Scott chose to have Mitchell's funeral in New York as opposed to Philadelphia, where all Mitchell's friends are. Many of us wanted to attend, but couldn't due to our work schedules and the distance. I'm beyond retirement age, so I could have easily had taken off from work. But my ninety-two-year-old mother lives with me and I couldn't leave her alone to attend the funeral in New York City.” She cried into Mia's shoulder and then said, after a few sniffles, “Please don't print that part about his son. I'm just upset that my friend is gone.”

“You have my word, Clara. I have no desire to paint that kind of picture. Instead, could you talk to me about how Dr. Morris helped his son during his bout of cancer?” Mia asked.

Clara wiped her eyes with a tissue she had pulled from her pocket and nodded. She told Mia and Paul that Scott had come down with cancer late last spring. Mitchell had taken four months off from work to see to his son's treatment. They had caught Scott's cancer early, resulting in a full recovery.

“Dr. Morris must have been so relieved,” Mia said.

Clara stared at Mia and then said, “Even though his son had beaten the disease and was in remission, Mitchell was never the same after that.”

“What do you mean he was never the same?” Mia asked, patting the woman's arm.

“Dr. Mitchell had the bedside manner of a saint, a light around him that glowed brighter with each patient he cured. But after last summer, the light dimmed more with every passing month, until it was snuffed out completely when his wife died. I imagine that the stress of it all had finally gotten to him.”

Mia knew she had taken too much of this woman's time already, but thought it was necessary for the case's sake as well as Clara's to finish with a story, one that portrayed the man during happier times. “Clara, just two more questions. If you could pick his greatest professional achievement, what would it be? And on a lighter note, could you tell me a time he made you laugh?”

Clara chuckled. “Well, he made me laugh every day. And for his greatest professional achievement?” Clara smiled. “He was the heart and soul of this hospital. There is no greater achievement than that.”

A
s progressive as Chase was, there were some things that were nonnegotiable in regards to tradition.

He had always envisioned himself proposing marriage to the woman he loved with the ring that his father had given his mother. Chase should have known that his engagement to Gabrielle was doomed the moment she insisted that she pick out the rock of her choice. He never told her about his mother's ring. Deep down, he knew she didn't deserve it. Within hours of his proposal, Gabrielle had practically drug him to Tiffany's and picked out a diamond so obscene, so ridiculously large, that it resembled gaudy costume jewelry. God, how he hated that ring. He had every right to demand that hideous piece of jewelry back the night he found her cheating on him, but by then, he didn't care. She could keep the ring and the guy she had been riding.

Chase pushed the noxious thought out of his mind and focused on the present, which was so beautiful. The setting was so perfect, the ideal combination of romance and serenity, but he didn't have the ring in his possession. Their abrupt departure from New York prohibited him from going to his bank's safe-deposit box and reclaiming what should rightfully belong to Erin. Chase knew that men, especially in this day and age, often proposed without a ring. But no matter how petty it seemed, Chase couldn't bring himself to ask Erin to be his wife without it. That ring was a symbol of forever, a symbol that everything he had belonged to her, that his love for her would never waver but grow stronger with each passing day. He thought about having the ring flown to the island, but reconsidered. Although slight, there was a risk that the stalker would trace it somehow, leading him to their private little world. To ensure her safety, he would just have to wait until they were back in New York to propose.

Chase walked to the water's edge and wrapped his arms around Erin's waist. He had been watching her for some time from a few yards away. She seemed at peace as she gazed out at the ocean, which was a marvel considering their past month. She nestled into him and sighed.

“You look very relaxed,” he said, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with sea-infused air. The combination was intoxicating and he longed for a repeat of last night. Despite their explosive lovemaking on the plane, his girl had been prepared to give him more the moment they stepped foot on solid ground. Reading the lust in her eyes, he had hustled her onto his gated property. Chase still wasn't certain how he had restrained himself long enough for Andrew to secure the ten-thousand-square-foot home, but when he was given the green light to enter, Chase had rushed her to the bedroom, which was where they had remained up until an hour ago.

“You told me that you owned a vacation home, not an entire island,” she said.

“Oh, I must have left that part out,” he said, mischievously. Chase could feel his cock grow hard against that tight little ass of hers.

“So, how alone are we here?” she asked.

It could have been his imagination, but he swore her hips swayed into him farther, tempting him to strip her out of the thin cotton skirt and tank top she was wearing. Somehow, he managed to answer her. “This is a private island. You couldn't tell last night when we arrived because it was dark, but there are no other homes.”

“Is that so?” she asked. This time it wasn't wishful thinking. She was pressing her ass against his cock with the full intention to seduce.

He was seconds away from ripping away her clothes when she broke free of his embrace. Erin walked a few steps toward the water and turned around. Her nipples were erect and piercing the white, paper-thin ribbed tank. She took another step backward, keeping her gaze fixed on his rock-solid erection. Licking her lips, she slid her skirt down and kicked it safely onto the sand. Standing there wearing only a see-through white tank with no bra to limit his view and a pink thong…well it was more than he could take. Anticipating that he was going to lunge for her, she smiled and ran into the water.

He disrobed, which allowed her to gain a bit of a lead, but he quickly caught up with her. She gasped as he took hold of her from behind. Together they fell into the water and laughed.

He turned her around so she could face him. “I will always catch you, sweetheart. You must know that by now,” he whispered, before taking an earlobe between his teeth. The laugher ceased and she moaned from the sudden combination of pleasure and pain. With her firmly in his arms, he waded further out into the ocean, nibbling his way down her neck to her perfectly buoyant breasts. Usually, he would just tear the shirt from her body, but not this time. Her luscious mounds were spilling over her shirt and it was so goddamned sexy. But he also needed them in his mouth, tasting each taut nipple with his tongue.

But first that barely there layer of fabric between her legs had to go. He reached down, stripped her of the pesky thong, and wrapped her legs around his waist. Chase reached down and stroked her clit, causing her body to jolt. “Is this what you want, baby?” he asked, quickly finding the rhythm she loved.

“Um…hmm,” she whimpered.

He chuckled and then turned his attention to her rounded mounds. He leaned in and caressed her nipple with his tongue, lapping gently at first. But as her body thrashed with the pleasure he was giving her between her legs, his own desire took hold and he took her breast in his mouth and sucked the rigid peak. Her whimpers turned into audible moans, telling Chase that she was close.

Chase removed his fingers from her clit and slammed into her with his cock. She locked her legs around him even tighter as he rocked into her. “I want to hear you scream, Erin,” he said, forcing himself to slow down. A few more thrusts and he was going to explode inside her. He wanted to make this last, at least for another minute.

Chase glided out of her enough so only the tip of his cock remained in her tight heat. He felt her fingers grab his ass and attempt to force him back inside her. But he held firm, knowing that his girl also loved it slow and deep. “Scream for me, Erin,” he said, thrusting into her with one smooth motion.

“Chase!” she yelled. She was so hot for him, stripped bare and uninhibited. His girl was beautiful.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he said, pulling out. “Now.”

“I…I'm yours!” she cried. “Yours.”

Her eyes were closed and her back arched. He gripped her ass and slammed into her, feeling every quake from her powerful orgasm against his shaft. “Ah…Erin…I love you!” he yelled, finding his own earth-shattering release.