Eden's Pleasure (Pulse Book 1)

by Rose, Jennifer

  “How did you know that?” he asked, kind of spooked by her knowledge.

  “That picture was in a research file that Mr. Hawthorn gave me when I put the contract bid in. I had a copy of it made and kept it in my desk. She’s quite a vessel.”

  “Well, you’re going to be on board her in a week. I made arrangements for a flight to take us to Vancouver. We’ll board her and cruise around the Gulf of Alaska.”

  “Oh my god! I’m such a fool. I thought you wanted…I thought…I’m beyond embarrassed.” She snuggled into him, crushing the photo between them.

  “You’re not a fool, baby, and don’t be embarrassed. I should have been clearer.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’d be a fool to ever let you go.”

  Smoothing out the photo against her chest, she smiled up weakly. “Are we going alone?” she asked, sitting up to talk more easily.

  “Mason will be going with us. I don’t go many places without him, and of course, the captain and his crew will be on board.”

  “You’re not manning her?”

  “No, I can do a lot of things, but manning her alone would be a death wish. She’s a hundred and ten feet long, too large for me. Besides, I wouldn’t have time to tend to your needs.” He eyed her passionately.

  She blushed and he kissed her hard. “Don’t ever think for a minute, baby, that I don’t want you right here with me. I have no intentions of getting rid of you, and you’ll have one fuck of a time getting rid of me.”

  They shared fevered kisses and fondled each other like horny teenagers, until they were disturbed by the clearing of a husky throat. “Sorry, kids, but I need to talk to you, man.” Mason looked everywhere but directly at them.

  “What’s up?” Chase asked, pulling her sweatshirt back down, and separating himself and Eden so he could better hear what Mason had to say.

  “Rheanna’s on the loose. She’s been drinking and one of the guards thinks he spotted someone on the grounds just inside the fence line to the northeast. I’m thinking it’s just her,” Mason informed him.

  “And?”

  Mason shrugged his shoulders. “And the team’s on it. I haven’t heard anything yet, but I thought you should know. I drew all the blinds, and it would be best if you stay away from any windows and doors, just in case.”

  “Stay here, Eden. I’ll be right back,” Chase told her as he left with Mason, closing the door behind them.

  Eden sat wide-eyed in the dim light, listening intently for any sounds of movement, but it was eerily quiet. Seconds turned into minutes, and those minutes felt like hours. All she could hear was her own breathing and her stomach growl on occasion. They hadn’t eaten and the strong wine lying on her stomach was making it ache.

  She couldn’t sit there anymore. The loneliness was making her nervous and frightened. She got up and walked quietly to the door, leaning her ear against it, listening. There was only silence. She turned the door handle slowly, opening it just a crack to peek out. It was dark, and only light from the exterior lighting lit the halls.

  As she made her way through the halls to the great room, she remembered Mason’s words that the blinds were closed now, making it terribly dark. A sound like breaking glass came from her right. Her head jolted quickly towards it, but no other sounds followed. She stood frozen. Eden quickly decided to follow her gut and avoid the area where the sound came from. She wasn’t a fool like the victims in horror movies. Maybe it would be better if I just go back to the media room and wait, she thought.

  Quickly and as quietly as she could manage, she headed back to the media room, opened the door, and rushed in, closing it behind her. She rested against it to catch her breath and calm her nerves. It was so dark. She couldn’t remember it being this dark before. Her hand ran across the wall in search of the light switch, when it came into contact with cold, damp flesh.

  Frozen to the spot, praying that it was Chase playing some stupid trick with her, she heard a voice whisper, “Dollface.” She took flight, grabbing for the door handle, desperately trying to escape.

  His hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing while she struggled violently for air and an escape, kicking the door and clawing at his arm. The light turned on dimly as he pulled her away from the door, loosening his hold. He threw her over the back of the couch, sending her tumbling off the front edge. Her forehead made contact with the coffee table, and sent a burning sting through her skull. She cried out in pain, but was met by a hard, red-hot slap across the cheek. Her head whirled in an agonizing fog.

  Through clenched teeth, he blasted savage words into her ear. “Not a fucking sound, dollface!” His breath was bitter and reeked of liquor. “Did you miss me, dollface? I’m here to take you home.” He pulled her onto the couch, trying to kiss her mouth, as she turned her face from side to side to avoid him.

  He grabbed her hair and yanked it tight in his fist, growling into her face. “It’s time to move before your fancy boyfriend comes looking for you.” He lifted her violently to her feet, gathering her sweatshirt around his fist, and forcing her to the door.

  “Don’t do this, Jackson,” she pleaded.

  Eden felt something warm trickle just past her eye and wiped it away, looking at her fingers. Her forehead was bleeding. She was dizzy and nauseated, and the throbbing from her head only added to her fears that she was going to die at his hand.

  “Jackson, please.”

  Shaking her violently, he hissed into her ear. “Shut the fuck up, and you get to live. Make a sound and I slit your fucking throat.” He pulled a knife from his pocket and clicked it open with a flick of his wrist. The edge of the knife glittered in the dim light. The sight of the silver skull on the handle’s end proved that this was the blade that had sliced through her breast. Tears filled her eyes, and she shuddered.

  As they moved down the halls, Eden wiped at her open wound. Without Jackson noticing in his haste to get them out, she touched each wall, leaving a trail in hopes that Chase or Mason would see it. They came out a door at the side of the garage, and he pulled her in. She wiped her fingers across the side of Chase’s Audi R8 as one last desperate clue.

  The red streak glistened brightly against the car’s powder-blue paint. Eden whispered, “Save Me Chase,” as her captor yanked her off her feet and dragged her along the cold, hard concrete.

  The grounds at the rear of the house were all abuzz with Mason’s security team, each member assigned a specific area to scope out. Large spotlights aimed at different angles across the property lit as far as possible, but the darkness was a hindrance and only frustrated Chase.

  “Your man sure he saw something?” Chase asked, uncertain, scanning the black emptiness.

  “Yes,” Mason said abruptly. “They found Rheanna in the guardhouse, passed out. It sure as hell couldn’t be her…but she did create quite a diversion.”

  “I just mean maybe it was an animal, you know? A wolf or a dog,” Chase suggested.

  “You think they don’t know the difference between a human and a fucking dog?” Mason snapped.

  “Sir! Briggs found a broken window,” a guard yelled over to Mason.

  “Where?” Mason demanded.

  “Kitchen door.”

  “Eden!” Chase looked desperately at Mason. The pair took off in the direction of the media room.

  The door to the media room stood open slightly. The two looked at each other, sharing a mutual thought. Mason took out his gun and directed Chase behind him. He slid through the opening, careful not to disturb it too much. Inside, it was dark and silent. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and slid the dimmer switch up, lighting the room fully for a better view.

  “It’s all clear.” Mason lowered his gun and walked over to the back of the couch viewing the coffee table. “No one’s here, man.”

  “Where the fuck is she?” Chase asked anxiously as he looked behind the bar, hoping she was hiding. His heart sunk when she was nowhere to be seen.

  Mason studied the area, his eyes scanning, taking i
t all in like a recording device. The wine bottle was lying on its side, and the contents spilled onto the carpet. The one empty wine glass seemed undisturbed, and the other was smashed on the floor. The sight that set alarms off in his head causing his heart to race, giving him an instant adrenaline rush, was the blood on the edge of the table.

  “Chase, man? You got your gun?”

  “Right here.” He pulled it from the back of his jeans. “Why?”

  “Our girl’s in trouble,” Mason said calmly, nodding to the table.

  “Son-of-a-bitch…fuck! Let’s go!” He bolted, but Mason grabbed his arm.

  Mason steadied Chase. “Stay with me, but slow and easy. We don’t want this idiot doing something stupid. You go that way. I’ll go back this way.” Mason directed with his head holding his gun out in front of him.

  A few steps from the door, Chase called out to his friend. “Stop, Mason look at this.” He pointed to the red stain on the wall and blew out a breath. A pain yanked at this chest. “That fucker!” Chase bit out through clenched teeth.

  “Stay calm, man, I don’t need you losing it, not with a fucking gun in your hand.” Mason spoke in a cool, direct tone. When they came to the next blood stain on the wall, Mason looked at it, studying closely, and smiled.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Chase shoved him, annoyed at the smile.

  “Look.” Mason pointed. “These aren’t blood spatters, they’re a blood trail.”

  “Spatter or trail, who the fuck cares?” Chase asked. His only concern was finding Eden before anything more happened to her. He was angry and frustrated and scared as hell. He’d never felt fear like this before. It tore at him, ripped his guts to bits, and tormented his soul.

  “Our girl is smart.” Mason smiled. “She left us a trail to follow. Look, she wiped her fingers on the wall, each mark the same. From the swipe I’d say they went this way.” He pointed. They followed each marking as they moved through the halls until they got to the door leading out to the garage.

  “Mason, she’s bleeding, man…she’s hurt, just how badly do you think she’s hurt?”

  Mason moved two fingers from his eyes to Chase’s. “Focus! You can’t help her if you fall apart. Hold it together for her. Is the garage unlocked?” Mason asked.

  “No. I don’t know.”

  Mason gave the handle a slight turn, and it opened smoothly. He put his hand in a flat, downward motion signaling to Chase to get down low, his finger to his lips in a shhh gesture. Mason entered first, looking around the large garage for any signs of movement, then lowered himself flat to the floor, searching under the cars for feet or anyone squatted by one of them. Chase pointed out the red, bloody stain on the driver’s door of the Audi R-8.

  Chase pointed up and Mason nodded in agreement, moving first to the staircase leading to the loft above the garage. Mason looked around, raising his head just above floor level. The room containing furniture draped with white sheets looked barren. Mason’s keenly trained eyes spotted a single red stain on the door leading to the washroom.

  Mason turned to Chase who stood at the bottom of the stairs with his gun drawn and beads of perspiration on his forehead. He raised his thumb in the air, and Chase joined him at the top of the stairs.

  Mason listened, and after a few minutes of waiting, he heard the unmistakable sound of a sniffle. Recalling the small washroom in his mind, he visualized its contents. The sink sits to the left with a mirror over it, the toilet beside it in the left corner and straight ahead a shelf with towels. The old-style claw tub sits lengthwise on the right wall. No window, he concluded with relief. He pointed to the room, and Chase nodded. They stood on either side of the door, guns drawn and ready.

  “Come out with your hands in the air!” Mason yelled through the closed door. He needed to hear something, anything, in order to analyze the situation.

  “Fuck you!” The male voice sounded desperate and irritated, Mason thought—a live wire. He had to think his next move carefully.

  “Jackson, let the girl go!”

  “Can’t do that, man. She’s coming home with me…dead or alive, I’m not leaving without her,” he threatened and Mason believed that he meant it. This guy wasn’t stable, and besides, he knew that a cop killer wouldn’t hesitate to kill again.

  “You don’t want to hurt her, man. What good is she to you if she’s dead?” Mason asked, trying to reason with the side of this guy’s psyche that loved her.

  “She was always a dead fuck anyway.” He laughed a sick, twisted laugh, and Eden let out a cry of pain. Mason felt spooked at the sound, and took a deep breath so as not to burst the door down, possibly causing her more harm.

  Mason held his hand up to Chase, in a warning to stay put. He could see the rage building in Chase’s eyes, the anger and desperation wild, causing him to fidget with his gun.

  “Calm down, man!” Mason yelled towards the door. Perhaps for both Jackson and Chase’s benefit.

  “You let us go, and she lives. You keep me in here much fucking longer, and I kill us both. Your call, man.” Jackson’s voice was getting more and more infuriated, worrying Mason as each moment ticked away. A trickle of sweat ran down his back, and he wiped his brow with his sleeve.

  “Ok,. What do you want me to do?” He was in negotiation mode now, his mind going over the details of his training. “Befriend the enemy and make him think he’s got the upper hand.”

  “I want a car, the gates open, and no one follows or she’s dead.” The demand echoed from the tiny washroom. Mason could hear Eden’s gentle weeping, and put his thoughts into action.

  “Ok, I can do that. You can use my Tahoe. It’s in the garage, and the keys are in it,” Mason offered. Chase and Mason shared an unspoken stare. Chase nodded his head and tiptoed across the room and down the stairs as Mason stayed in negotiation mode.

  “This is how we’re going to do it.” The lunatic holding Eden hostage behind the door spouted his demands. “You get rid of your gun. I’m not a fucking idiot, I know you got one…wait! Leave the gun on the floor outside the door. I’m going to need it. You stay in front of us so I can see you at all times, me and the fucking bitch get in the car, and drive away. No one follows, got it?”

  “I need to call off my men. Give me a minute.” Mason radioed instructions to his team loud enough to be heard by Jackson.

  “No one follows us…no one, or she’s dead, got it?” Mason could hear a nervous tone in Jackson’s voice which meant this guy was scared behind his anger, desperate, giving Mason a new edge up on him.

  “Hey, you’re the boss, man.” He placed his gun on the floor, and the sound of the cold, steel gun on the hardwood echoed through the nearly empty room.

  The door opened slowly, and Eden stumbled through the doorway looking into Mason’s eyes. His heart sank at the sight of her terrified and trembling. The cut above her brow was deep and glistened with fresh blood. Her mussed up hair half hung in a clip, strands glued in dried blood to the cut. Her lip was split open, and it quivered as new tears joined the stains of old tears and blood smeared across her cheeks. Her sweatshirt was torn, bunched into Jackson’s fist. She let out a tiny cry as he shoved her forward, and she staggered.

  Jackson was not at all what Mason had expected. He was built, but not large at all, and maybe a foot shorter than Chase, not much taller than Eden. He was dressed all in black and wore a black ski cap, making it easy enough to sneak around in the dark. His hands were pretty beat-up and dirty. The hunting knife that he held at Eden’s chest was seriously survivor grade, to be used as a weapon with a double edge, one partially serrated. He meant business.

  “Pick it up,” Jackson ordered to Eden, shoving her to pick up the gun. It was heavy and cold in her tiny hand, and she quaked as she held it awkwardly.

  Mason gathered himself together, slipping into his tough-as-shit mode, moving to the steps and looking back at Eden before descending the stairs. The pleading for help in her eyes crushed him.

  “Keep your fucking
eyes in your head,” Jackson sputtered, waving his gun at Mason. “Get moving or I’ll kill her, I’ll fucking kill her!”

  Mason lifted his hands in surrender. “Relax, man. I’m going.”

  As they approached the truck, Mason turned to view the two, hoping that Eden would have the strength to fight this bastard. Jackson opened the driver’s door and propelled her up, following her closely.

  “You remember, big guy, anyone follows us and she’s dead. Behave yourself now.” He winked and closed the door, starting the engine, and raced out of the garage, squealing the tires down the long driveway heading to the gates. Two of his men came around the back of the garage, careful not to be seen, joining Mason.

  One said, watching the truck leave their sight, “Fuck, man! You let him get away. What do we do now?”

  “For one, we stay calm,” Mason said, taking a remote device from his shirt pocket. “Two, we take this little button here and we push it.” He pushed a button.

  “Mason, what the fuck are you talking about? That asshole’s getting away and you’re playing with toys!” the other man said.

  “Three, the engine on my truck stops because I just hit the kill switch, and it rolls to a stop, I’m guessing, not too far from here and—” The unmistakable sound of a gun firing twice echoed in the distance, and a heavy, sick feeling fell over Mason.

  Without so much as a word, the group of men ran down the driveway. The truck hadn’t made it very far past the gates. It sat quietly in the middle of the road, the silence only broken by the sound of boots on asphalt. All the guns were aimed at the driver and passenger doors. The windows were so darkly tinted that seeing inside was virtually impossible.

  “Driver, slowly step out of the vehicle with your hands up!” one of the marksmen yelled with authority. No movement, no sounds, no cries.

  “Driver! You have until the count of three!...ONE…TWO…” The silence was suddenly broken when the passenger door seal broke.