Chapter 11 – The Kavanagh Intervention
If I said the last three days had been horrible, I'd be understating it considerably. Money can buy the best medical care in the world, yet even my money can't save a life if too much damage has been done. It's a rough lesson to learn. It's humbling and puts everything into perspective. Once again I feel helpless and lacking control. I hate it. If it weren't for my mother keeping me informed, I'd probably join King George in his madness. Thank goodness for Grace Trevelyan-Grey, forever my angel. Oh, how I want Anastasia to join her choir and be mine too, but in a much different way.
Night one in the hospital saw Anastasia's condition deteriorate – out of control, rapid heartbeat, falling red blood cell count, and severe nausea. Within six hours of being placed in her room when she was admitted, she was transferred to the ICU step down unit for closer monitoring. A precautionary measure for a severely bruised liver, my mother said. They were monitoring her condition through blood work, ultrasounds, medications, and CAT scans. The medications, a combination of pain meds and sedation left her unconscious most of the time, ridiculously woozy the rest of the time, well that according to her father. I wasn't allowed to see her. The one time she had regained some sense of rational consciousness, she woke up screaming for Sawyer. She was sedated again before anyone could tell her about Sawyer's condition. He was still touch and go in the ICU just down the hall from her. Overnight he received three more units of blood and a return trip to the operating room for internal bleeding.
By the morning of day two, the press was all over the connection between Ana's accident, the shooting, and me. Reynolds brought me the copies of the stories and my laptop. The headlines both shocked me and left me anxious about the police investigation shifting a bit toward my life. I couldn't believe the headlines.
Christian Grey's Own Chappaquiddick?
Grey Gay? Nope! Maybe He's Into Leather?
Grey Connected to Kinky Attempted Murderer!
Crazed Stalker Killed by Grey Bodyguard After Attempted Murder of Grey Girlfriend!
The Billionaire, the Student, and the Stalker – Attempted Murder in Two Acts
Steele-Grey – What's the Connection?
The Billionaire & the Bookworm!
Did Seattle's Favorite Billionaire Mislead the Police?
It was overwhelming. I met with Ros and my PR team, setting them on a course of action against the media speculation. This entire situation was unfair to Anastasia and her family. By the afternoon, the speculation intensified, so I took the matter into my own hands and stood before the media at a press conference with Ray Steele standing on one side of me and the chief of police on the other side. I didn't want to do it, but I had to protect Ana in any way I could.
The Chief steps up to the podium, straightens his jacket, and starts. Almost two weeks ago, Miss Anastasia Steele was driving from Seattle back to WSU and was driven off the road ten miles north of Castle Rock. Her rental vehicle flipped multiple times and ended up submerged in the river, though critically injured, Miss Steele survived the accident. The Highway Patrol investigating the incident determined her vehicle was forced off the road by a stolen black SUV, which was later recovered near Mount Saint Helens. DNA was acquired and after ruling out the owners of the vehicle, the investigation was left with a DNA sample from the person we believe was responsible for the attack on Miss Steele.
After her release from the hospital, Miss Steele was recovering at home. When she was well enough, her father and two friends, who happen to work for Mr. Grey, took her to dinner at the brew house; where Miss Maggie Jameson attacked her. Miss Steele was fortunate that Mr. Luke Sawyer, who was critically injured in the brew house attack, provided her with his jacket earlier in the evening. Mr. Sawyer's current employment is as personal protection to Mr. Grey, he is also the co-founder of a small local company currently developing a recreational line of bulletproof clothing. Miss Steele was shot twice in the torso at point-blank range before Mr. Sawyer could get to her. Neither bullet permeated the jacket, though they caused significant internal injuries. Mr. Sawyer was shot twice in the chest before he managed to shoot Miss Jameson, who was at that point turning her attention back toward Miss Steele.
The DNA recovered in the SUV is a match to Miss Jameson. Upon investigating Miss Jameson's apartment, we've determined that she's been fixated with Mr. Grey for years. In her apartment was a shrine, complete with pictures, candles, and news articles on Mr. Grey dating back to the beginning of his business career. The only personal connection we can find is Miss Jameson attended high school with Mr. Grey's sister, Mia Grey, though from what we understand, never knew each other. According to Miss Jameson's parents, their daughter would see Mr. Grey occasionally pick his sister up from school and fixated on him back then because he had been kind to her when she dropped her books. The Jameson's acknowledge that their daughter was troubled and didn't know Mr. Grey. They didn't however feel she was a threat to anyone's wellbeing. Unfortunately, they were incorrect on that matter.
Any questions?
The chief pointed at a tall, male reporter who I knew worked for the Seattle Noz. "What's Mr. Grey's connection to Anastasia Steele?"
"Miss Steele interviewed me just under a month ago for the WSU school newspaper. Her friend, the newspaper editor, was ill that day and Miss Steele took her place. She came to my office with the editors questions, a tape recorder and completed the interview," I replied. "About a week after that, we did a photo shoot while I was at the school visiting the agriculture department. The article is set to appear in the graduation issue this week with co-authors Katherine Kavanagh and Anastasia Steele."
"That's it?" the reporter asked in mocking disbelief. "She had two of your bodyguards with her when she was shot. Your bodyguards took care of her security after the car accident both while she was in the hospital and afterward, if reports are to be believed. Plus there's your questionable broken nose. There's more here Mr. Grey."
I was surprised when Ray Steele took the microphone. "Son, you can sit on your ass and dream up all the conspiracy theories you'd like, but sometimes the truth is just boring. My daughter Anastasia knows Mr. Grey from the interview and a photo shoot for the article. The connection between Mr. Grey, Anastasia, and the security team stems from my longstanding friendship with Luke Sawyer, who I know from the military. My daughter was in Seattle the night of her accident to redo the photo shoot, as the pictures were lost in a computer system crash. My daughter was attacked on her way back to school."
I have to admit, I'm shocked. Ray Steele lied to the press to protect me. Why?
"So there's no romantic relationship between Mr. Grey and Miss Steele?" another reporter asks.
Ray laughs heartily. "No sir, there isn't. My daughter hasn't seen Mr. Grey since she was discharged from the hospital, where he visited her once to make sure she was recovering. I took her to her new apartment here in Seattle, where she was moving to after graduation. There she was recovering and studying for finals, which she took remotely earlier this week. We were out celebrating the end of her college career with friends at the brew house when she was attacked. It was her first non-physician outing since the original attack."
"How are your daughter and Mr. Sawyer feeling Mr. Steele?" a female reporter I knew from Kavanagh Media asked.
"First, thank you for your concern for their wellbeing, which one would have thought would have been issue number one today, not idiotic speculation. They are both recovering, albeit slowly. I'm looking forward to taking her back home to spend a significant amount of time with her friends and family as she processes everything that's happened. I'm hoping her privacy will be respected, as surely you can understand these past few weeks have been extremely traumatic. More than anything, I would like to thank Mr. Grey, Mr. Sawyer, and the Grey Security Team for watching over my Annie during this time.
"For those in the media who have been looking to a salacious story here – there just isn't one. This is a tragedy for not just my family, but for the Sawyer's, the Grey's, and in particular, the Jameson's, who struggled with their child's emotional issues for years. They are parents hurting as much as I am. Even when your children are troubled, you don't stop loving them. Heck, sometimes you love them even more because you want nothing more than to help them. So as a parent, I'm asking to please treat the Jameson's with the privacy and respect they deserve. What they must be going through is unimaginable. Dissecting this entire situation with rampant speculation will cause them further emotional trauma, which is the last thing they need.
"To make statements about a 'Grey Chappaquiddick' is irresponsible journalism in an attempt to sell newspapers or web site hits based on lies. The reality of Mr. Grey is actually much simpler – his personal staff, family and employees are fiercely loyal to him, and vice versa. He's given more to food-based charities each year than the lump sum salaries of everyone in this room multiplied tenfold. So rather than try to rip a good man down with your keystrokes, might I suggest you find a good cause and support it as Mr. Grey has over the years."
"Mr. Grey, you have been criticized over the years for walking around with personal security," the Kavanagh Media rep asked with a barely contained smirk. "How do you respond to those critics now?"
"I've been fortunate in my career and have built up a highly profitable company with my trusted leadership team. With that comes public exposure, which is difficult to come to terms with when all you really want is privacy. With money and publicity come threats. Early on, I didn't take them seriously, but when my family was threatened, I hired a security director and he helped me compile a security team. It's an unfortunate part of life, with the upside being you are surrounded by good people with your best interests at heart," I replied. "When you are in the public eye, people speculate, exaggerate, and sometimes outright lie. You grow thick skin and do your best to move on. This situation proves the effectiveness and necessity of my security team, but no matter how good they or the Seattle Police Department are, they can't follow someone, like Miss Jameson, who never outwardly made a threat toward me, my family, or Miss Steele; who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Will you see Miss Steele again?" another reporter asked.
I couldn't help but sigh. "By merely interviewing me, Miss Steele has lived through two extremely traumatic events. I highly doubt she'll want to see a person she knew from interviews ever again after that. I mean, would you? I think I speak for my security team and myself when I say, we just want the best for Miss Steele."
"Thank you for coming," Chief Sampson ended the press conference.
Anastasia always described Ray Steele as taciturn, but after that press conference, where he not only held his own, but also put a few people in their places with his scolding, I saw a man who would do anything to protect his daughter. Hell, he even defended me quite eloquently and helped protect my privacy. For all the crap he's given me since all hell broke loose, the more I get to know him, the more I can honestly say I like him. That, and it feels great to feel like I'm on his side for a change. I can see why Ana adores him.
…
Night two saw no measurable change to Anastasia's condition, but Sawyer improved significantly. While technically not out of the woods yet, he regained consciousness long enough to ask about Anastasia and relaxed when he heard she would be fine. At least we thought she would be. Taylor arranged for nearby hotel rooms for his parents and three sisters. I was grateful. One thing I realized straight away was the Sawyer's were a close-knit family and they welcomed Ray Steele as one of their own. Military families tend to stand together in times of crisis. Thankfully, after the press conference, the media coverage and speculation dwindled.
On the third day, Sawyer was moved from the ICU to the step down unit, one room away from Anastasia. Both were heavily medicated, but when conscious, Sawyer explained what happened at the restaurant in great detail. Anastasia, according to Ray and Taylor, was dazed, quiet, and appeared lost in her own overwhelmed mind. She hadn't uttered a single word. When the nurses asked her if she was in pain, she shook her head yes or no. Beyond that action, she was unresponsive – even to her father. She would gaze out the window, sleep, or occasionally sob uncontrollably until she fell asleep. According to Ray, this was how she was for months after her time in Texas. It was heartbreaking to see her both physically and mentally broken.
Today, day four, while I flew up to WSU to graduation, both Ana and Sawyer were moving from the ICU step down unit to side-by-side private rooms. Security was easier having them near each other and thankfully the hospital was obliging.
I hadn't seen Anastasia since the night with Flynn in her hospital room nearly two weeks ago. I wanted to see her, but Ray informed me she wouldn't want anyone seeing her the way she was right now – borderline catatonic, in pain, and lost. So I did what I had to do, which was take Charlie Tango to the graduation with Taylor, then I flew back this evening with Kate Kavanagh. It was the only thing I could think of doing – bringing Ana her best friend. Her mother declined my offer of a private jet to come see her only daughter. If I ever had the opportunity to meet Carla Adams, I would give that uncaring bitch a piece of my mind.
Ana was gazing out the window of her room as Ray, Taylor, and I watched Kavanagh enter. The minute Kavanagh gently touched her friend's shoulder, Ana turned, clung to her as if her life depended on it, and sobbed uncontrollably in her arms. Hell, both women were crying, yet Kate Kavanagh led her to her bed, curled up with her, cried and soothed her friend. All the while, the door to the room remained half way open. We felt like voyeurs, yet we couldn't turn away.
"It's over Ana," Kate soothed as she stroked her best friend's hair. "She can't hurt you anymore." She gently rubbed Ana's back while she cried. "You didn't deserve this. I know right now it sucks. I know you, you're reliving it in your nightmares even while awake, but if you don't stop and talk about it, you'll be consumed by it. You're the strongest person I know. You can and will get through this. I promise."
Slowly Anastasia began to calm down. We watched as Kavanagh grabbed tissues and wiped her friend's eyes. "Remember when we took that psychology class together?"
Ana nodded, yet still clung to her friend.
"We learned talking about stuff will help set you free. Remember when you got my sorry ass back on skis after my accident that first winter, when I wouldn't talk about what I felt after clipping the tree. Yet now, I ski all winter long. You pushed me to face my fear sister of mine, and it helped. Now it's my turn to help you. Tell me what happened at the restaurant. I promise, you'll feel better afterward. I promise," she whispered kissing the top of her friend's head.
As annoying as I found Kate Kavanagh, I couldn't help but watch her in awe, as Anastasia appeared to be contemplating opening up. We all startled a minute later, when Anastasia remained silent, causing Kate to snap at her 'Come on Steele! Talk dirty to me! Give it to me girly!' then they both burst out laughing. The sound of laughter allowed the three of us to relax. Sawyer must have heard, because he slowly emerged from his room heavily supported by Reynolds and joined us. Between Reynolds and Taylor they kept Sawyer upright.
Anastasia's voice, when it finally came, was trembling in fear, yet somehow still soft. "She was there when I entered the bathroom dressed like staff, so I didn't think anything of it. Nothing appeared out of place, yet when I exited the stall, she asked why me and not her a few times. I didn't understand, but she smelled like cigarettes and I instantly grew fearful. When I turned back to her, she had a gun pointed at me and I knew it was the woman from the car from her … well, her –
"Ginormous jugs?" Kate asked with a giggle. "Twin balloons? Massive Maguffies! Over-inflated yabos! Carry-on airbags? Utterly unbelievable udders?"
I had to admit, Kate Kavanagh knew how to handle her friend. She got Ana, not only to giggle but to blush while reliving her worst nightmare and continue talking.
"She was at WSU. My mind flashed back to everyplace I'd seen her – school after the interview, the Heathman after the photo shoot, the coffee house when I had coffee with Mr. Grey, outside the GEH building the day of the interview, in the hospital when I was here last time, outside our Seattle apartment when I looked out the window. She was everywhere but I didn't pull it all together until just then. I'd seen her as a brunette, redhead, and a blonde. I even saw her in photographs of Mr. Grey that were online when I researched him after the interview. She seemed to be lurking everywhere in the background as part of the crowd. I panicked in the bathroom when I understood that she was obsessed with him and she felt I was in her way."
Ana began crying softly and it tore my heart to pieces as I listened. I glanced at Taylor, Ray, Reynolds, and Sawyer and clearly they were feeling the same way.
"She asked me why I couldn't just die like normal people in a submerged car accident. Her eyes were wild, out of control, and terrifying. As I tried to scream for Sawyer, she shoved me against the wall and pushed the gun into me pulling the trigger twice. It felt like the air had been forcibly taken from my lungs and I'd never been in that much pain before. As I was sinking to the floor, she pushed me head first to the ground. I hit my head hard on the floor tile, felt dazed, in pain, bleeding, and my vision was blurry. I still couldn't breathe. I watched Sawyer come in but she had already pointed her gun toward the door. It was horrifying hearing the shots ring out and watching him go down in a bloody heap as I lost consciousness.≈"
She now sobbed uncontrollably in Kate's arms. "Sawyer got shot because of me. There was so much blood. He's dead because of me."
"He's not dead sweetie. I promise," Kate soothed as she held her friend. "He's just in the next room a bit worse for wear, just like you. He put a bullet in plastic psycho Barbie's head. I promise, she can't hurt you anymore. You're both going to be fine. Look at me," she ordered as she gently held the sides of Ana's face and brought her gaze to hers. She points at Sawyer, motioning for him to come into the room. "You have a visitor Ana," she tells her wiping her friend's eyes with more tissues.
We watched as she turned toward Sawyer as he slowly entered her room. The emotions crossing her face are priceless – fear, relief, and then pure happiness as she carefully gets out of bed and lunges at Sawyer. Ana might be tiny, but in Sawyer's current condition, we're lucky Taylor and Reynolds kept him on his feet or he'd be on the floor.
"Luke! Oh thank God you're alive. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," she sobs in his arms.
"It's not your fault. Hell, I'm just glad the jacket worked," he replied attempting to soothe her. "Now come on short stuff, we both feel like hell, let's sit down before we fall down."
She nodded as he escorted her back to bed. It was difficult to tell which of them was truly supporting the other. Once she was settled, he then sank into the nearby chair. Surprisingly, she motioned us all into the room – even me. Taylor grabbed the chairs from Sawyer's room and we all sat down. I was shocked she allowed me into the room, so I sat in the chair furthest from her and tried to blend into the background.
"Tell me about that jacket," she asked Sawyer softly. "Why did you give me your jacket?"
"I couldn't shake the feeling we were missing something. I'm a co-founder of a small start up company that is working on a more fashionable line of bulletproof clothing," he replied. "Since I knew they had fitted me with the first test jacket, I grabbed it on my way to your apartment. I knew you wouldn't be able to get your injured arm into your own jacket, so I had hopped you'd wear it just in case. I'm a big fan of better safe than sorry, so I left my regular jacket in the car with Taylor."
"But—" Anastasia tried to protest his actions, yet he cut her off.
"Ana, you were the target, not me. My job was to keep you safe and I took what I deemed the necessary precautions. If it's not obvious, it worked. I imagine you're bruised beyond belief but the bullets didn't get through the jacket, right?"
We watched as she covered herself with the sheet up to her waist, then pulled up her hospital gown and showed us the area from her navel to just below her breasts. Her small torso had some of the worst bruising I'd ever seen and judging by the collective gasps in the room, everyone else's too. Dark purplish black as far as the eye could see. It was horrifying.
She looked down her top and laughed nervously. "Holy poop! The lower half of my breasts look like little eggplants. No wonder I hurt like all hell." She giggled, before cringing in pain. "How are you feeling Luke?"
"I've had better days. If it weren't for Reynolds, I wouldn't have made it into your room. Right now, I'm just feeling like a captive prisoner. Between being in here and my family smothering me I could use a vacation," he replied with a smirk. "Sometimes being the baby of the family is a bad thing. My three sisters and my mother keep trying to fluff my pillows and mollycoddle me. Thankfully my dad took them sightseeing today since they are leaving at the end of the week. I love my family but sometimes they forget I'm not five years old anymore."
"But who's going to help you when you are discharged in a few days?" Ana asked him with concern. Leave it to Anastasia to worry about those around her more than herself.
"Luke and I discussed it. He's agreed to recover in Montesano with us," Ray informs her. "A few weeks of country living and fresh air will do you both good. Besides, he saved my little girl; the least I can do is offer him some hospitality while he recovers. We might even take in some fishing when he's up to it. In the meantime, we can continue our little book club."
Ana's face had the biggest grin on it. I know from Taylor that Luke Sawyer was quickly becoming the big brother she always wanted but never had, so I was happy for her, yet jealous as all hell of her affection toward him.
"That makes me feel better," Kate replied. "At least I know you'll be well taken care of while I'm in Barbados for a few weeks with my folks and Elliot."
"Elliot is really going with you?" Ana asked in shock.
Kate blushed and nodded with a grin on her face. I knew my brother was as smitten with Kate Kavanagh as she was with him, but going on vacation together after knowing each other less than a month? Ridiculous.
"Grey took me to the condo to drop off my bags. He told me what he and his staff did and how you ordered him to get rid of the stuff they put in there, but Ana, really? You now have a big girl bed. I understand Ray made the bed you've slept in since you were two years old, but come on – if you can wear Victoria Secret underwear, you should sleep in a big girl bed. You should store the bed Ray made you at his house for the day you your first child graduates from a crib. Besides, Mr. Got Rocks made an effort to do something nice and ensure you are comfortable in your recovery. As much as I'm not a fan of Mr. Moneybags," she couldn't help at smirk at me before continuing, "his heart was in the right place. Besides, you should have yelled at him for not going to town on my room." She turned to me, grinned broadly, and then added, "Elliot and I like our beds bouncy if you don't mind."
"Katie!" Ray snapped at her in a fatherly manner as everyone else laughed. "If I were your father you'd be grounded until your fifty for that remark."
"Oh Ray," she sighed hugging him. "Not everyone can be as pure and virtuous as our Ana. I hate to disillusion you, but most women my age are more like me than they are like her. I know you love me anyway."
"I do Katie. You've been good for my Ana and she's been good for you."
We watched as Ray and Kate teased each other back and forth for a few minutes. When our gaze returned to Ana, she had dozed off. We then glanced at Sawyer and he too had dozed in his chair. Kate climbed back into bed next to Ana, wrapping her arms around her, while we left the room to give them some peace and quiet.