“Obviously, you were wrong,” I say. “You wouldn’t have called Kim to get in touch with me otherwise.” I know I’m being a dick, but I can’t help it. You’d think after everything I did to make sure her and Kim’s apartment was safe, she’d take at least a few simple precautions.
“You about done, Vance?” Jase asks, annoyance thick in his voice. Whether it’s at me or at the situation I’m not entirely sure, but he’s glaring at me; I can feel it, though I can’t pull my eyes away from Piper to glare back at him.
I almost tell him to fuck off, but I bite it back. “Yeah, I’m done.”
From my peripheral vision, I notice him move toward the couch and take a seat. He sets his glass down on the coffee table, and then leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees and dangling his hands between them.
“Why don’t you tell us what’s been going on, Piper,” he says, managing a gentle and encouraging tone.
She frowns, unfolding her arms and looking around, avoiding my face. “Didn’t Kim already explain all this to you guys?”
He nods. “She said you have a stalker, but I wanna hear what’s been going on from you.”
“I don’t have a stalker,” she says tersely, her jaw tightening. “Someone’s been messing with me, but it’s not a stalker.”
“Gonna need a little more than that, babe,” Wes says, as he crosses the room and takes a seat next to Jase. He leans back, extending one arm along the back of the couch, crossing his right leg over his left knee, and rests his glass on his thigh. “What do you mean someone’s been messing with you?”
She hesitates, her eyes flickering to me again. I can see her concern as she fidgets with her clothing. “Um, well,” she says, her voice quiet, passive. “Ten days ago, someone threw a brick through my front window. Nine days ago, someone keyed my truck right in my driveway. Eight days ago, someone spray painted the words ‘stay away’ across my garage door.” She laughs once, shaking her head. “That one really pissed me off. The jerk didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me what the hell I need to stay away from.” She stalls for a tick, her jaw tightening once more. “Each day it’s something new, a new piece of my property vandalized.”
“So you want us to find who’s doing this?” I say.
Piper looks at me, her expression turning hard. “No, I don’t want you to find anyone. All I want is a security system. Something with cameras so the police can ID the person.”
I move in front of her, meeting her gaze straight on. My eyes narrow, as I stare at her for a moment. It’s peculiar to me how casually she talks about her situation, as though having someone threaten her and destroy her property is no big deal, but there’s something about her voice that sounds off, and I catch the uneasy look on her face. “What’s really going on here, Piper?”
She looks away from me, her gaze shifting over my shoulder, and she shrugs helplessly. “If I knew that,” she says, “I wouldn’t want video surveillance, would I?”
Chapter Two
Piper
I’m sitting in my home office, staring at my computer. I should be working. I have four deadlines coming up next week and I’ve barely begun the projects. I’m a book cover designer and I have clients counting on me, but I just can’t focus. I’m too exhausted to really get anything done, too distracted to concentrate.
And it really doesn’t help that I can hear the guys moving around the house, hammering and drilling, doors opening and closing.
Leaning back in my leather office chair, I prop my feet up on my desk and cross my legs at the ankles. My muscles are strained, coiled along my shoulders, stretched through my neck and back. My mind is stuck on all the stuff Vance is installing in my house. Door sensors, window sensors, motion detectors, video surveillance … The alarm system they are installing is completely over-the-top and definitely not what I would have chosen, but I’ve got to admit I’m oddly nervous and excited that Vance has gone to so much trouble for me.
My cell phone chirps and I lean forward, picking it up from my desk to take a look. It’s a text message from Kim.
Kim: How did it go?
I sit there for a moment, clutching my phone, staring at the message, before I start laughing. I just laugh, shaking my head. I bet she knows exactly how it went.
I consider how to respond, debating on whether I should give her hell now, or wait until I see her, before I take hold of my phone with both hands, punching in my response.
Me: I think I might hate you.
Kim: LOL. Meeting went well, I take it.
Me: You have no idea. Oh, wait. That’s right, you do have an idea. I can’t believe you told him!
Kim: You need more than some stupid security system. I told him for your own good.
Me: Seriously? How is him knowing that he’s in my phone under badass hottie for my own good?
Kim: Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. He told you? He wasn’t supposed to tell you.
I imagine her cringing and smirk. Good, I hope she feels bad. Serves her right.
Me: Well, he did, and he did it in front of Jase and Wes. He also brought a ridiculously high tech alarm system with him. They are installing it now.
Kim: I figured he would.
Me: You should have warned me.
Kim: You would have cancelled.
I tilt my head as I read the text, thinking that she’s probably right. I would have canceled. The truth is, I didn’t want to use Vance in the first place.
The man makes me nervous.
Beyond nervous.
He always has.
There’s just something there, something special about him that pulls me in, yet, twists me up.
But Kim insisted, telling me he would flip if he found out I hired someone else and that knowing him, he’d probably end up ripping it out and installing a new one.
I let out a deep sigh, as I type out another message.
Me: You also told him I have a stalker.
Kim: It’s for your own good, Pipes.
I roll my eyes.
Me: I don’t have a stalker.
Kim: Whatever. Just let them do their thing. It’s what they do.
Stifling a groan, I almost point out that all they are doing is installing an alarm system, but I don’t. I’m just too tired to deal with it right now.
Me: We still on for tomorrow night?
Kim: Hell, yeah. I need a girl’s night.
Me: K, gotta get back to work. Later.
Kim: Later.
Sighing, and swinging my legs off my desk, I put my phone aside and turn back to the computer, trying to get some work done.
Vance
“Yo, Vance,” Wes calls as he comes into the kitchen. “You seen Piper?”
“She’s working,” I say, reaching up over the sink, and placing a sensor on the window frame. “What do you need?”
He stares at me for a tick. “I’m ready to start on the monitors. You know where she wants them?”
I consider the placement for a moment, even consider going and asking her, but I don’t. I’m still too pissed off that she didn’t call me sooner, and knowing her, she’ll probably just tell me she doesn’t want them installed anywhere.
Grabbing the receiver, I line it up with the sensor, before affixing it to the windowsill. “Office, bedroom, and living room.”
He nods and begins to turn away, but hesitates, looking back at me. “You planning on leaving this at just a system install?”
Pausing, I turn back to him. I don’t respond immediately, because I honestly don’t know what to say. Piper made it clear she doesn’t want me involved, but the thought of leaving this alone makes a knot twist in my gut. “And if I’m not?”
He grins, shrugging one shoulder. “Then I’d ask you what you know about her.”
Stopping what I’m doing, I put the receiver down and turn to him, leaning against the counter and folding my arms over my chest.
What do I know about her?
A hell of a lot.
I know s
he’s twenty-three. She’s from Indiana, came to Sacramento for school, and finished her degree in graphic design six months early. She has a sister who is twenty-one and a brother who is eighteen. Her parents died when she was eleven, and her grandmother raised her. She has two credit cards, which she religiously pays off every month, two days before the bill comes in. She owns her house, no mortgage, paid for it with her trust fund, and she’s self-employed, her business, designing book covers.
I know other things, too. Like she loves chocolate. She prefers beer or rye over any fruity drink, and she has a bottle opener on her keychain. She uses coconut moisturizer. She loves shoes, but not as much as handbags. She enjoys music—anything from country to rock to hip-hop, she thinks pick-up trucks are sexy, and she looks fucking incredible in jeans and a pair of cowboy boots.
Yeah, I know lots of things about Piper Clare Owen.
But instead of telling him all of that, I say, “She’s Kim’s friend.”
Wes snorts, cutting me a disbelieving look. “You telling me you didn’t run a background check on her when she moved in with Kim?”
I damn near flinch when he says it, the shock and subtle anger in his voice making me feel like an ass. But what am I supposed to say? That I know lots about her, but none of it will help with an investigation? Am I supposed to tell him her favorite drinks, or what moisturizer she uses?
Shaking my head, I turn back to the window. I’m too annoyed, too frustrated to be having this conversation right now. I’ve spent the last two hours installing window sensors and motion detectors, and I just want to finish it and get out of here.
I need to clear my head.
I need to figure out what to do next.
Wes doesn’t seem to pick up on my frustration and he keeps talking. “It’s fine. I’ll run a check. See if I can find anything.”
This time I do flinch, and I turn back to him, my response, immediate. “No, you won’t.”
Wes says nothing, but I can tell by the way his face twitches that he’s biting down on his cheek, trying not to laugh.
I glare at him.
The bastard already knows.
He knows I’ve already done the background check.
He knows I just don’t want to share.
He knows and he’s just trying to get under my goddamn skin.
Before I have a chance to tell him to fuck off, Jase strolls into the kitchen, smiling wide. “He won’t what?”
Wes laughs, glancing at him. “Vance doesn’t want me looking into Piper.”
Jase looks from Wes, to me, his brow dipping with a frown. “You saying we’re not going to look into this for her?”
“I didn’t say that,” I grumble. “I said I don’t want Wes running background checks.”
Jase doesn’t respond right away, contemplating my words. Folding his arms over his chest and leaning a hip against the counter, he regards me curiously for a few seconds, but eventually he chuckles and shakes his head. “Good,” he says, “because I already called Cruz. They’ve got nothing, no leads, and no suspects.”
“What about the ex?” Wes asks. “What was his name? Craig? Cameron? Chuck? It was something with a C. Didn’t they date all through college?”
“Colton,” I say, without thought. “They dated for two and a half years and they broke it off when they graduated. He took a job out of state. It was a mutual break-up. No hard feelings.”
Jase and Wes stare at me.
And stare at me.
And stare at me some more.
It’s Wes who cracks a grin first, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Thought all you knew about her is that she’s Kim’s friend.”
I turn my eyes toward him and glare, as the corners of his lips twitch spasmodically. He’s usually better at keeping a straight face, but today he can’t seem to hide his amusement.
I grit my teeth. Glad he’s finding this so funny.
A cell phone ringing distracts me from the moment. It’s Jase’s. Digging it out of his pocket, he glances at the screen and grins as he answers it. “Hey, darlin’.” He pauses for a beat, his smile fading. “What do you mean you bought a truck? You’re not driving back.”
Wes groans, cutting me a look. “Shit.”
I nod. That pretty much sums it up.
It’s been nearly three weeks since Jase came home without Elena, leaving her in New York. After spending a year on the run, hiding from her abusive cop fiancée, she needed space, needed time with her parents.
But he’s been a goddamn mess worrying about her.
Worrying that she won’t come home.
Worrying that she might hate him for killing Lawrence Peck, even though the bastard shot Jase’s dad, and pointed a gun at both of them.
Now he’s going to be freaking out about her driving all the way back to Sacramento alone.
“No, you are not,” Jase says, his voice a near growl. He pushes off from the counter, paces a few steps, and his jaw begins to tick. “Jesus, Elena, I don’t care what color the truck is. I don’t want you driving. It’s too far.”
I shake my head and swallow down my laughter, exchanging a look with Wes. Did she really just try to use the truck’s color to talk him into this?
“I’ll pay to ship your stuff here,” Jase continues. “Hell, I’ll buy you new stuff. You’re not fuckin’ driving.”
Jase pauses for a beat, and then he pulls his phone away from his ear, glancing at the screen, his frown deepening. “She hung up on me,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t believe she hung up on me.”
Wes full out laughs. “Good for her. I’d hang up on you, too.”
Rolling his eyes, Jase flips Wes off, before he groans, raking a hand down his face. “Shit,” he mutters, the grip on his phone tightening. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” I say. “She’s probably stressing out just as much as you are. Give her a few minutes and call her back, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, turning away. “I’m gonna go pick up the new locks. You guys need anything else?”
“Secondary deadbolt for the front door,” I say. “Thicker chain lock, too.”
Jase shakes his head, glancing back at me. “She doesn’t need ...”
“I want it, Jase,” I say, cutting him off. “I don’t want to have to worry about her here.”
“If you’re worried,” Wes says, “you can always do what Jase did.”
Looking at him, Jase cocks an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Wes shrugs. “Move in with her.”
Jase says nothing to that, but he does laugh as he turns away, heading for the door, and I shake my head, smile, and then, before turning back to my work, I say to Wes, “Don’t you have a monitor to install?”
Piper
The day slips by painstakingly slow, minutes feeling like hours, hours feeling like days, but I do manage to get some work done. I finish a cover draft and email it off for the author’s approval, I spend some time scanning through photo stock, trying to find the perfect images, but mostly, I just stare at my computer blankly, waiting for the guys to finish up and leave.
I’ve come to the realization that I’m not going to get much more done today. I considered going out there a few times to see how the installation is coming along. It’s not like I’m actually getting anything done in here, but I’m not ready to face Vance just yet, not after the whole badass hottie thing, especially when I’m pretty sure he’s still pissed off at me.
I click on another photo, enlarging it and studying it, when the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway draws my attention. I hold my breath as they grow near, hoping that whoever it is will keep going, but they don’t, pausing outside my office door, and then someone knocks.
Sighing, I push back my chair and stand up, walking over to the door, opening it slowly. Vance stands in the hallway with two boxes, one small and one large, in hand.
“What’s up?” I ask, and then clear my throat. I’m so nervous. He’s smiling, a g
limmer of amusement touching his dark eyes, but there’s also something … agitated in his gaze. Is he still mad? Does it matter if he is? I’ve spent the last few hours convincing myself that I don’t care if he’s mad at me, but the thing is, I totally care.
“We’re almost done,” he says, as his gaze slides past me, surveying my office. “Just need to install a sensor on the window in here and set up the last monitor. Mind if I come in?”
Slowly, I nod when he meets my eyes again. “Um ... yeah, sure,” I mumble. “Come on in.”
He walks into the room, smirking at me cockily as he makes a point of shutting the door behind him.
I feel my face flush as he makes his way over to my filing cabinet. He shifts a stack of papers aside and sets down the boxes, before pulling out a pocket knife and slicing them open.
Hesitating for a moment, feeling slightly uncomfortable, I move over to my desk and sit back down.
This doesn’t have to be awkward, I tell myself. So what if he knows I think he’s hot. It’ll only be awkward if I let it be.
Vance rifles through the boxes, pulling out a sensor, and steps over to the window. He fiddles with the pieces, pulling them apart, and then with a measuring tape and pencil, he begins marking the windowsill.
Silence swallows the room for a few seconds, before he asks, “How’s business been?”