Chapter 2: Heaven is in the Eye of the Beholder

'Well, it didn't take long for Ms. Steele to bolt from Escala. I knew she would,' I thought to myself. Her eyes revealed her shock, fear, and disgust. She sure as hell didn't want to see anyone associated with Mr. Grey, much less his head of security. I can't wait to collect my $100 winnings from Welch – I told him she's say no.

I use my key to call the service elevator to head up to the penthouse. There is little doubt what awaits me – Mr. Grey with a glass of expensive scotch, sitting at his piano, playing depressing music; either that, or on the phone yelling at someone from Grey House who did nothing wrong but answer their phone. It was going to be a long fucking night and Gail was in Portland visiting her sister. Me? I was supposed to stay in Portland tonight so Grey could have his fun, and I could have mine since Gail was just a few miles away. But did that happen? Nope. No sooner than Grey sat in Charlie Tango did he text me to arrange a flight to Seattle and be back before dawn. Why? Who knows? With Grey, you don't ask because half the time he doesn't tell or sometimes he doesn't even know himself.

I wasn't surprised Ms. Steele got the heck out of Escala. I mean really, what was Grey thinking? Yes, she fits his standard submissive description – long brown hair, pale skin, petite. I mean, Ms. Steele is no more than five foot two at best, a not quite a hundred pounds, and barely into her twenties. She fits the Christian Grey submissive job description requirements in that sense, though she is a bit younger.

I've met her a few times and read the background check. She's meek, shy, innocent and a bookworm. She's never had a relationship, which makes no sense because she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Personally, I attribute the lack of dating to her mother who was on marriage number four. Not the best role model if you ask me.

Ms. Steele was raised by her mother until she was in her early teens along with husband number two – a former marine. She only lived with her mother and husband number three for a short time before returning to Ray Steele – step father number two, the one who adopted her as an infant. He clearly raised her right and was the stability in her life. Growing up in Montesano she was involved in the VFW fundraising and events, tutored reading at elementary schools and libraries, and even worked as a candy striper.

She's not someone who will get off being beaten and fucked. Hell, physically she's fragile. It's almost as if you look at her too hard and she'll break. I know if she were my daughter and Grey was trying to seduce her to the BDSM lifestyle, I'd kill him and no one would be any the wiser. Grey never stood a chance in hell with her, but he didn't have a clue. For his sake, I hope Ray Steele never has a clue about last night either, or no amount of security will keep him away from Mr. Grey.

Something was clearly wrong when the elevator doors finally opened in the penthouse and I didn't hear the piano or yelling. This lack of his standard response to something not going his way was unsettling. I couldn't help but keep my right hand near my gun just in case. I searched his office, his bedroom, the kitchen, and then I went upstairs. When I found the playroom door ajar, I knew where he was, but it was too deathly quiet.

Even though the door was ajar, I knocked. "Mr. Grey? Are you in there?"

When no answer came, I pushed the door open and took a step into the room. My eyes were instantly drawn to the ground where Mr. Grey lay crumpled on the ground laying on his side with blood pooled on the floor around his head. All I can think is please don't let him be dead.

I sent a quick text to the standby CPO, Luke Sawyer, which read 'Code Red – Escala – Rogue 1 Down. What's your ETA?'

Kneeling next to Mr. Grey, I carefully roll him over onto his back and let out a sign of relief when I see he is breathing. His eyes are red and teary. Around his eyes are red to the point where it looks like a first degree burn, yet just below his eyes you can see the bruising begin. His nose is still gushing blood and clearly broken. The gash at his hairline will require a least six to eight stitches. All I can ask myself is how did little Ms. Steele do so much damage when he out-weighs her by at least seventy pounds and a foot in height. Mental note to self: Never underestimate Ms. Steele. Hell, I hope my Sophie can do this kind of damage if she's ever approached by someone out to harm her.

My phone vibrates and I read Sawyer's reply, 'ETA 3 minutes.' I'm grateful he's close by. While I wait for Sawyer, I check Mr. Grey for other injuries. While he's unconscious, I check his chest and see a bruise forming dead center on his sternum. Ms. Steele knows where to hit to bring someone down, probably courtesy of her adoptive father Ray. If she got him there, you know she got him where he lives. He's going to be quiet sore tomorrow.

"Holy shit!" Luke exclaims as he enters the playroom and sees Grey. "What the fuck happened?"

I couldn't resist giving him a smirk. Mr. Grey's wounds weren't life threatening, unless you count the death of his pride if word ever got out that he pounded into the ground by a girl. "He propositioned a ninety-five pound girl and this was her way of saying no."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Go to his room and get his workout clothes," I order. "I'm going to change into mine."

Once Luke and I are back, we change Mr. Grey into his kickboxing gear, turn the camera off in the elevators, and head down to the basement gym. It's late enough that no one should be there. Time to stage this like an accident during a workout. I have Sawyer bring down the laundry detergent from the staff laundry so I can dip some on the boxing gloves. I know Grey is allergic to it, so hitting him in the face is the cover and the allergic reaction to the glove hit should explain the redness around the eyes. Well hopefully. Before we can get him to the boxing matt, we hear an ambulance arrive. Ms. Steele must have called them before we could. At least she didn't leave him to rot.

Five minutes later Mr. Grey is carted away in an ambulance, with me riding shotgun as security and Luke following in the SUV. All I can do is hope that I get to see Mr. Grey awake before anyone else does. Reluctantly, I pull out my phone and dial Dr. Trevelyan, his mother.

"This is Dr. Trevelyan," she answers sweetly.

"Dr. Trevelyan, its Taylor. There's been an accident," I inform her calmly. "Mr. Grey and I were sparring, he slipped and the punch I was aiming at him hit him in the face. He's unconscious and his nose is broken. Our ETA to Harborview is eight minutes. Can you meet us?"

"Carrick and I will be there in twenty-minutes. Dr. Reed is on-call. I'll have her meet you in the emergency room."

A short time later, I'm in the examining room with Mr. Grey, while Sawyer stands guard. Dr. Reed has the IV started and has examined him. His head is stitched and his nose stuffed with gauze to stop the bleeding. Slowly he is starting to regain consciousness. When his eyes open, he's clearly dazed seeing me standing before him in my workout gear. Before I can say anything, Sawyer pokes his head in and informs me that Dr. T and Mr. G are coming down the hallway.

"Mr. Grey, I'm so glad you are awake. I apologize for hitting so hard. I hadn't realized you slipped," I stated loudly as I look him square in his eyes hoping in his dazed state he would take the clue.

"Christian!" Dr. T's voice cried out seeing him awake as they entered the room. "How many times have I told you to not spar so intensely? It was only a matter of time before you had an accident like this."

"Sorry mom," he sighed painfully. "Can I get out of here now? I'd like to return to the gym for my revenge on Taylor."

Message received loud and clear, I thought with relief. Good. I knew he wouldn't want people to know that this was no accident.

"You need a CAT scan, a chest and head x-ray, and your nose set. Once we have the MRI results back, we'll see if you need to remain overnight," she explained as she fluffed his pillow. When she turns to me she adds, "Take better care of my son. No more hard sparing."

"Don't be too hard on Taylor. Remember, he only follows Christian's orders when it comes to sparing intensity," Carrick informs her with a smirk. "He got what he was coming to him. I know Taylor will never admit it, but it probably felt good for all the heck you put your staff through at times."

Christian looked over at me and I couldn't stop myself from giving him a small smirk. He'd better give me a bonus for this, but I get the feeling I'm going to get chewed out for the smirk before the bonus happens. I don't particularly care because I know he's my boss, but I'm proud of Ms. Steele. I couldn't be more proud of her if she were my own daughter. She's down to earth. Mr. Grey lives in his own little fucked up tower of pain, money, and privilege.

When Dr. T and Mr. G sit on either side of the bed, I excuse myself from the room to chat with Sawyer.

"Cover story in place," I whisper to him. "Did you bring my suit?"

"It's in the SUV," he replies.

"I'm going to change. Once I'm back, go to Escala and clean up the mess on the playroom floor and any residual blood that was in the gym," I order. "I'll stand guard until we know if he's being released tonight or tomorrow. I'll call either way for a ride."

After a quick trip to the car, I head to the restroom, change into my suit and return my workout clothes to the SUV. Luckily I have Mr. Grey's phone, so I pull Ms. Steele's number from it and dial her from my phone.

"Hello," she answers cautiously.

"Ms. Steele, its Taylor. Mr. Grey's head of security," I inform her. "Are you still in Seattle? I believe we need to have a conversation and then I'll arrange your transportation back to Portland."

"I have nothing to say to Mr. Grey or his henchmen," she responds angrily. "Grey is a disgraceful human being who got what he deserved. Tell him if he ever attempts to contact me again there will be more of the same, and that goes for you lackeys too. Maybe now he'll think twice about the red room of pain and the torture he inflicts on these clearly damaged women who enter into his stupid BDSM contracts. Maybe he should get his ass out of his ivory tower and pay for therapy for anyone who applies because clearly there is something wrong with not just them, but him. That's where he needs to invest his billions – therapy and maybe a padded cell exclusively for his use. God that man makes my skin crawl. I feel like I need a shower. And another thing, tell Grey I hope I kicked him hard enough so he never reproduces because the world doesn't need a second generation pervert and arrogant asshole. He can feed Africa all day long, but it doesn't make him not an asshole. Doing good things doesn't excuse the rest of his personality. Maybe you should tell him that or better yet, if I ever see him again, I'll make sure I write it on his forehead with a sharpie after I kick his ass. The man has so much potential but he'll never achieve it because he's fifty shades of completely and utterly bat shit crazy. With regard to transportation home, I've rented a car and am almost at Centralia. Please do not contact me again and please inform Mr. Grey likewise. He will regret it if he does." As she hangs up, I can hear her calling me an asshole.

The smile on my face couldn't be any bigger. I'm even more proud of the soft-spoken Ms. Steele now. She may speak softly but she gets her point across. She's got spunk. She spent all of a few hours and she saw past the arrogant outer shell and beyond. Little Ana 'Steamroller' Steele – Feather-Weight Champion Billionaire Ego Slayer. Hell, she's be an Olympic gold medalist if that were truly a competitive category. I would love to see how she'd take down other arrogant jerks. Trust me, I've worked for a few and I would pay thousands for that front row ticket.

Unfortunately, I'm going to have to remind her that she signed an NDA, so she cannot discuss whatever happened at Escala tonight. I'm certain that will be an interesting conversation.

The following morning there is a contingent of media around Escala since news broke that Mr. Grey was taken away in an ambulance the night before. And let the cover-up continue, I thought as Sawyer pulled the SUV into the underground parking area with Mr. Grey in the back seat.

"Just issue the press release that it was a sparing accident," he yells into his phone. "I don't care. Draft it and get it released now."

We head up to the penthouse and Mr. Grey heads to the kitchen and starts the coffee pot. Sawyer grabs the file folder containing the NDA from the coffee table, walking toward the kitchen as he looks at it. He should know what it says – we all signed one. By the confused look on Sawyer's face I can't help wonder what's going through his mind. "What is it Luke?"

His blue eyes go from mine, to Mr. Grey's, and back to the contract. "The woman who was here last night was the famous Latvian tennis player Anastasia Sevastova?"

"Her name was Anastasia Steele," Mr. Grey snaps back at him.

"That's not what she signed on the NDA," Sawyer informs us dropping the NDA on the breakfast bar.

Mr. Grey and I look at it at the same time and both exclaim, "Fuck!"

"Find her Taylor. Get her to sign a damned NDA. I can't have her mouthing off to anyone who will listen about my private life. She can ruin me," Mr. Grey orders.

Clearly, his day has gone from bad to worse. Little Ms. Steele has the billionaire by what's left of his balls. Deep down I'm proud of her, yet I know until I have a true NDA signed by her my life is going to be miserable.

"I spoke to Ms. Steele around eleven thirty last night, she was already half-way back to Portland in a rental by then. She should be at home and in bed at this point," I explain.

We watch as Mr. Grey texts his brother Elliot, who is still in Portland and has spent much of the past week in Ms. Kavanagh's bedroom. A moment later, Mr. Grey's phone rings and he answers angrily.

"Elliot, is Ms. Steele there? I need to speak with her." After a pause, Mr. Grey continues and puts the call on speaker. "What the hell do you mean she's not with you? She left here at 9:30 last night."

"Didn't you have the decency to drive her back here after you had your way with her?" Elliott asked bitterly.

"I'm in Seattle. We flew here last night in Charlie Tango. She wasn't happy and she left. According to Taylor, she was half way back to Portland at around midnight last night in a rental car," he replied.

"Maybe she has a brother that's more your taste," Elliot retorts.

She was just approaching Centralia when I spoke to her," I inform them.

"What the fuck Christian! You drag her all the way to Seattle by helicopter and you don't bring her back? Hell, you could have had Joe fly her back. He's always on standby. Hold on a second."

We hear Elliot leave whatever room he's in and closes the door. Then we hear the sound of keys being pressed on another cell phone. "Ana, it's Elliot. Call me when you get this message. I'm worried that you haven't made it back from Seattle and I want to make sure you are all right before Kate wakes up and has a stroke. Call me."

"Her phone went right to voicemail and she's not in her bedroom," Elliot informs us. "Fuck! If something happens to her because you needed to peacock by flying her down to Seattle in your fancy chopper, I will never forgive you. I'm going to get dressed, grab Jose Rodriguez and we're going to start the drive toward Seattle. Meanwhile, why don't you gather your resources, figure out where she rented the car from, and follow the tracking device that's in all rental cars. We'll be on the road in thirty minutes. I'm telling you right now Christian, once she's found you and I are having a talk – big brother to little brother." People must be in the mood to hang up on us today. Even Elliot couldn't get off the phone fast enough.

Within ten minutes, Mr. Grey has both Welch and Barney attempting to track Ms. Steele's rental vehicle and we are taking off in Charlie Tango toward Portland. I hate flying. Given Mr. Grey's concussion, Joe is flying and Sawyer and I are riding shotgun. Our flight path takes us south following I-5. Once we approach Centralia, we know we have to be more vigilant.

Twenty minutes later my phone vibrates. I have a text from Barney that reads: Rental = Silver Hyundai Elantra, tag: MDN-227, last known location ten miles north of Castle Rock. Timestamp: seven hours ago. Signal stopped at that time.

A minute later my phone vibrates. I flip the switch on the control panel so we can all listen hands-free. "Taylor"

"It's Welch. Here's what I found out from the highway patrol in Castle Rock. They received a call of a black SUV running a silver car off the road just after midnight on I-5 but found no evidence of a crash. after searching for four hours with ten units. The person who made the call was arrested for DUI, so it might be nothing. They are back out now full-force since its daylight."

"Ten miles north of Castle Rock means if she went off the road, she could be in the water. The vehicle could be submerged," Sawyer commented. "What's the police frequency on the search?"

"Police ban 154.77," Welch replied. "I'll keep digging."

As Luke adjusts the radio to listen to the police ban the sound of the search flows through our headphones. As we listen to the back and forth between units we finally catch a visual in the distance of the search units. We're still two minutes out when we hear:

Water team six reporting in. We have a submerged vehicle, upside down in the river. Diver team is heading into the water to check for bodies.

"Fuck!" Mr. Grey mutters angrily.

Being Christian Grey has its benefits, especially when you offer the use of your helicopter for the search. We land on the nearby grass before we join the Deputy Chief of the Washington State Patrol in the makeshift command center.

Water team six dive report – Vehicle: Hyundai Elantra, color silver. No survivors found. No bodies found. Driver's side window broken, Airbags did deploy on impact. Recovered woman's purse. Identification: Anastasia Steele. Contents: cell phone, wallet, and other personal effects. All indications are that driver struggled to escape vehicle as it filled with water. Indications that driver was pinned by the steering wheel. Recommendation: begin river search for remains and call in canine units for another river bank search for possible survivor or remains.

"Agreed," the Deputy Chief informed water team six before nodding to his second in command who gave the orders to adjust the search plan.

"How do you know Ms. Steele, Mr. Grey," the deputy chief asks.

"My brother is dating her roommate and when she didn't return home last night from a trip to Seattle, he was worried, so he called me to follow the highway."

I have to hand it to Mr. Grey, he didn't miss a beat.

"I heard about your accident on the news this morning. Which one of these two gentleman has the bad luck of knocking out the boss?" he asks.

"That would be me," I replied.

HQ this is air unit two reporting – body, female in the water – approximately one-half mile south of water team six's current location on the west bank. No sign of movement. Water team six head our way. Medical Unit One, you are approximately one mile from the body location. You will need to park and proceed on foot to location. Please respond ASAP. Preparing to drop stokes and rescue team into the shallow water.

I feel like the wait is taking forever. Mr. Grey looks pale. I know if Ms. Steele doesn't survive he'll be devastated and blame himself. Sawyer doesn't look much better. I know he's seen enough death in Afghanistan that he walked away and became a CPO, which to him meant high priced security – a cake job. We all hate waiting. It's the one thing we have in common.

Rescue unit one – patch me through to PeaceHealth St. John's in Providence. When they reply they continue: This is Rescue Unit One PHSJ, we have a female, approximate age 20-25, brown hair, blue eyes. Unconscious. Signs of possible broken lower left leg, left collarbone, and compound fracture of the left arm. Body temperature ninety-five point five degrees. Possible skull fracture and significant blood loss from wounds on head and neck. Suffering from mild hypothermia. Height: approximately 5'2" and between ninety and a hundred pounds. BP is 80/50, respirations are 15, shallow. and irregular, pulse is 40. NS IV started. Life flight ETA 20 minutes.

And then we hear her…

"Holy heck I died and I'm the only virgin in man-candy heaven." Her dazed voice is barely a whisper, but it's her. I can see Mr. Grey let out the breath is was holding since we first set foot in the tent.