Play It Again

  I stroll down the hall, arms crossed over my chest as I seek him out, wondering if Jase and Wes are still around. I head to the living room, and I hear Wes’s voice as I approach the doorway.

  “Not your fault, man,” he says. “And I’m really not seeing where exactly it is you think you failed her tonight. The tire came off and as far as I can see, you did everything you could to keep her from getting hurt. If you didn’t hold her in her seat like you did, this shit could’ve been a hell of a lot more serious. So pull it together, and help us figure out where we’re supposed to go from here.”

  What? Vance thinks this was his fault? He thinks he failed me?

  My mind can’t even begin to process this.

  I stall a few feet from the door, not wanting to interrupt. I know I should just walk in and let them know I’m here, but I just stand in place.

  Call it curiosity.

  Call it nosey.

  Whatever.

  “Shit, okay,” Vance says after a moment, blowing out a long, noisy breath. “You’re right.”

  “Thank fuck,” Jase says. “So are we all on the same page that tires don’t just fly off vehicles and that someone most likely tampered with her truck?”

  I shiver. I’m not sure if it’s my hangover or head injury or their words that cause it.

  “Yeah,” Vance says. “We gotta get a hold of Sam; see if we can get our hands on the security video he has for tonight. He’s got a couple cameras in the parking lot, maybe it picked something up we can use.”

  There’s more silence for a moment and my heart is pounding so hard that I’m certain they can hear it, that they know I’m standing here, listening.

  The silence stretches.

  It’s deafening.

  I consider turning around, not sure I want to hear all their suspicions and plans, but my legs seem to have another idea. Before I fully register what I’m doing, I’m standing beside the couch where Vance is sitting, elbows on his knees and hands dangling between spread legs.

  “You guys think someone loosened my tire?” I ask. “Who the hell does something like that?”

  “My guess,” Wes says, reclining back in his chair, “it’s the same person who’s been screwing around here.”

  I gape at him. “Really?”

  Jase nods, crossing a leg over his knee. “If we’re right that it wasn’t just an accident, then yeah, it makes the most sense it’s the same person.”

  I shiver again, though this time I’m certain it’s from the topic and not simply because I’m cold or hungover or my head is throbbing.

  Vance sees it, and his eyes soften. “You should go to bed.”

  “Vance,” I say, hating that my voice trembles over his name, “do you agree with them?”

  His lips press into a thin line, but his eyes stay soft and concerned. “We don’t know anything for sure, Piper. This is all just speculation. Nothing for you to worry about, so go on and get some sleep, yeah?”

  “No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. My insides are nearly vibrating with the need to know why Vance doesn’t want me involved in this conversation. I step right over to him, dropping down beside him on the couch and folding my arms stubbornly over my chest. “Don’t you dare try and put me off. I deserve to know what’s going on or at least what you think is going on. I need to know.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters, looking at me curiously. “When the hell did you get so stubborn?”

  I narrow my eyes in a glare. “I’ve always been stubborn. You just never bothered to find out before now.”

  The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I instantly regret them. A look of disturbance crosses Vance’s face and I get the feeling that he wants to say something, refute my statement, but then Wes and Jase chuckle, and the look melts away.

  “All right, guys,” I snap, annoyance thick in my voice, and I pin them all with a look. “Start talking. Now.”

  Chapter Seven

  Vance

  Jase and Wes are gaping, full on, open mouth, gaping, and Jesus, but I feel my jaw starting to drop, too.

  I stare at Piper. I’ve never seen her like this before. Never known her to be demanding, or pushy, or stubborn, and I’ve definitely never heard her snap.

  At anyone.

  Ever.

  She might push a little, might make her displeasure known for a tick or two, but she’s usually sweet about it, quiet about it.

  I can’t say I don’t like this new attitude on her, because hell yes, I do. There’s just something so appealing about a woman who wants something and grabs it by the balls, but it’s a little after three o’clock in the morning and she looks exhausted, a little pale with thin lines around her eyes and lips that tell me she’s in pain.

  My chest rises and falls, air rushing in and out of my lungs, but I don’t feel like I’m breathing. At the moment, I don’t feel anything but an urgent need to make her feel better, and all I can think about doing is giving her the pain pills the doctor left for her and tucking her into bed.

  Her glare swivels between the three of us expectantly, her hair, a deep red curtain hanging down her back, and her expression ... Fuck, her expression is a roiling sea of emotion. Anger. Shock. Anxiety. Concern.

  She’s not going to let this go.

  If the tables were reversed, I wouldn’t either.

  Silence swallows the room, and Piper begins to fidget, wrapping the hem of her too-big tee around her finger. For the first time since she came out here, I really take her in. Baggy tee and yoga pants. She didn’t bother getting dressed up for me, and I admire that. Shows me that she’s grown a certain level of comfortability around me and the guys, and Jesus if that doesn’t make my chest tighten and warm.

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I consider what to say. I want to tell her everything, but also nothing, because the truth is, there’s really nothing to tell. Until now, she’d made it clear she didn’t want me doing anything more than installing a security system, so aside from keeping an eye on her house, a chat with Kim, and the call Wes placed to Cruz, I haven’t really done any poking around.

  All I’ve got is a gut feeling to go on.

  No facts.

  No solid leads.

  Nothing tangible to give her.

  “I’m sorry,” Piper blurts suddenly, her face heating with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m just—”

  “Don’t apologize,” I say, cutting her short. “Never apologize for saying something you mean.”

  She smiles slightly and her chest rises and falls with a heavy breath. “I know I said I didn’t want you guys to look into this. I know I said it was nothing to worry about. But if you really believe that tonight wasn’t just an accident, then I need your help. But I also need to be involved, so if you can’t give me that, I’ll hire someone who will.”

  I don’t respond immediately, not because I don’t want to, but because her blunt demands render me mute. Where the hell has this side of Piper been hiding all these years?

  She regards me critically for a second … two … five … before letting out a frustrated huff and turning her gaze to Jase and Wes. She lifts an eyebrow in question, urging someone to respond, but they say nothing, just sit there and watch, leaving everything up to me.

  I don’t know whether I love them for that, or hate them.

  Sighing, I lean back, resting my head on the back of the couch. When I finally speak, my words are even and my tone, straightforward. “Wasn’t planning on keeping you in the dark, Piper. Just figured with everything you’ve been through tonight you need sleep more than you need to know what the nonexistent plan is.”

  “Oh,” she says, the word no more than a whispered breath, as though she’s surprised, like she can’t quite wrap her head around the fact that I wasn’t trying to hide anything from her.

  “Here’s what we suspect,” I continue. “You’ve pissed someone off enough that they felt the need to vandalize your home. If we’re right, that same person kicke
d it up a notch tonight, going from simple vandalism to tampering with your truck, which could wind up being looked at as attempted murder. We know the cops don’t have any leads, but we also know they haven’t tried too hard to find any. From what our contact told us, they’ve been taking your complaints and adding them to the overflowing pile of break and enter and destruction of property cases they have on the go.”

  Piper frowns and lifts her hands to her face, rubbing the skin at her temples. “I thought there was an active investigation,” she says. “The officers that came to my house told me they were looking for the person who was doing this.”

  I shake my head, letting out another sigh. “They may be keeping an eye out, but they haven’t been actively searching for the person or for leads. Until tonight, you’ve been a pretty low priority, but I guarantee you that’s about to change.”

  “You’re fucking right it’s gonna change,” Jase grinds out. “As soon as daylight hits, I’ll be pulling Cruz into this.”

  “Who’s Cruz?” she asks, shifting her weary gaze to Jase.

  “He’s a detective,” Jase says, giving her a reassuring smile. “A friend of sorts. We’ve been helping each other out on cases for a few years now.”

  “But if the police aren’t doing anything,” she says, “why do you think this detective will help?”

  None of us respond immediately, none of us really wanting to broach the whys, not with everything still so fresh.

  I glance at Jase, meeting his eyes as something dark and unsettled passes across their depths. I’ve seen that look a few times since he got back from New York, each time a little darker, a little angrier, and I don’t have to guess where his mind has gone.

  Officer Lawrence Peck.

  The dirty cop who abused Elena, forced her into a relationship, and had her on the run for a year.

  The same bastard who showed up at Jase’s house trying to take her back, shot his father, and if Jase hadn’t pulled the trigger, killing the man in his backyard, Peck would have taken down Cruz. As it was, one of Peck’s bullets grazed Cruz’s arm.

  A few weeks ago I would’ve said we’d have to badger Cruz enough until he gave in and helped us with the case. Now, though ... now I know Cruz won’t hesitate.

  It’s Wes who finally answers, his tone cool, almost cold, his thoughts stuck on that night. “Because, Jase saved his life.”

  Piper must notice the untouchable topic vibe, because she doesn’t question Wes’s blunt statement. She simply nods and says, “Okay. We have the detective’s support. Where does that leave us in terms of trying to track this person down?”

  I smile, slightly amused at her persistence and I turn to face her. “First, we get some sleep. Then, tomorrow we can start here and work our way out, canvassing the area, interviewing neighbors. See if anyone saw anything suspicious over the last couple of weeks, or maybe someone new to the area.”

  She hesitates, her gaze darting around the room, landing on each one of us for a second, before she nods. “Okay,” she says, nodding again, although this time the motion seems to be more of an affirmation to herself than an agreement to my proposed plan of attack. “Sleep, then canvassing. I think I can handle that.”

  We sit there for a few minutes longer, hashing out the things Jase is going to tackle—meeting Cruz and checking out the damage on Piper’s truck—while the rest of us get some shut eye, before the guys pack it in and head out.

  After walking them to the door, and giving Piper’s spare truck keys to Jase, I lock the door and set the alarm. I make my way back to the living room, to find Piper, standing at the edge of the couch, arms loaded up with pillows and blankets.

  She looks at me over the stack in her arms and blinks. “So, uh, my guest room is kind of my office now …”

  She blushes, pink staining her freckled cheeks and nose, and her gaze drops to settle on my chest.

  “Couch is just fine, freckles,” I say, fighting the grin that threatens to split my lips.

  Her face lightens with a smile that looks part relieved and part disappointed. “Okay, um … good,” she says, setting the pile down on the arm of the couch. “Do you need anything else?”

  “You mind if I take a shower?” I ask.

  She nods, looking down at the blankets for a second, before turning back to me, offering a small smile. “Sure, of course. You can use the main bathroom. Let me just grab you a fresh towel.”

  Piper moves down the hallway gingerly, taking her time and picking her steps as though she’s not entirely steady on her feet, and it twists my gut into knots as I follow her.

  I want to reach out and steady her.

  Scratch that. I want to scoop her up in my arms and take the burden of walking from her.

  She stops at a closet across from the bathroom, opens it, and pulls out a plush burnt orange towel, handing it to me. “There’s shampoo and soap under the counter,” she says. “And a stash of extra toothbrushes and toothpaste, too.”

  An unwelcome wave of jealousy strikes me at her statement, and I cock a brow. “Why the hell do you have a stash of toothbrushes?”

  She shrugs, giving me a curious look. “I’m big on oral hygiene. It’s important to change your toothbrushes regularly you know.”

  I chuckle, fighting through the possessive urges, and remind myself that aside from her relationship with Colton, Piper never was much of a dater. No way would she keep a stash on the off chance she had a guy over.

  The thought probably wouldn’t even cross her mind.

  Refusing to examine my reaction too closely, I take the towel and mutter, “I know, and thanks.”

  We stand there for a moment, staring at each other, neither of us really sure what to say or do. I want to reach out to her, pull her to me, hug her, kiss her so badly that my fingers itch and burn with need, and by the way she’s looking up at me, lips parted, cheeks pinked, I really don’t think she’d be opposed to any of it.

  Needing to touch her, I reach out a hand, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingertips brushing against her cheek. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t recoil from my touch. Instead, she tilts into me, her entire body veering toward me.

  Cupping the nape of her neck, I lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay, freckles,” I say against her skin. “Really fuckin’ glad.”

  Her hands come to my shoulders as I start to lean back, and before I can process it, she pushes up on her tiptoes, closes her eyes, and presses her lips to mine.

  I inhale a sharp breath, staggered, completely dumbfounded. Jesus. I don’t know where it came from, but I like the bold streak that’s caught hold of her tonight. Liked her standing up and demanding answers earlier, and I really fucking like her making her move now.

  Her kiss is innocent and soft, almost testing. Her lips barely part as she places tiny little pecks against my mouth.

  My hand tightens at the back of her neck, as my other one comes up to her hip, but I don’t press her for more, letting her take the lead and only accept what she’s giving me, too fuckin’ ecstatic that she’s giving me anything at all.

  And then, the kiss changes.

  Piper bends into me, pressing hard against me, her lips turning insistent. Her lips part under mine and she darts her tongue into my mouth, and I find myself fighting the urge to tangle my hands in her hair, not wanting to hurt her. Her hands curl into the collar of my shirt, and my pulse kicks up and so does my cock.

  Jesus, she feels so good pressed against me, tastes so good, mint mixed with a sweetness that’s entirely hers. So right. Like this is where she’s supposed to be.

  Shit. I’m supposed to be here to look after her, supposed to make sure she rests, and here she is getting me so worked up that if I don’t stop now, she won’t be getting any rest.

  With another swipe of my tongue along hers, savoring her taste, I force myself to pull back.

  I don’t want to.

  Fuck, I really don’t want to, but I do.

 
She’s panting, her eyes glassy from lust or pain, I’m not entirely sure. It almost looks like both. They flick up to mine for a tick, before falling back to my mouth and I nearly groan as her pretty little pink tongue darts out, licking along the seam of her lips.

  “Wow,” she says. “We should have done that years ago.”

  A startled laugh slips from my lips. “Yeah, we should have.”

  I stare at her and she stares right back at me.

  In that moment, I can’t remember what I’d been waiting for all these years, why I hadn’t made a move for her. All my reasoning, all my hesitations seem stupid, a waste.

  Five, ten, fifteen seconds pass.

  Her cheeks flush. The soft pink is so damn pretty on her skin.

  “I should …” she starts, and then stalls, taking a step back. “… Um, let you have that shower.”

  She stares at me again, this time almost … expectantly. She wants to stay. I can see it burning brightly in her forest green eyes.

  “Yeah,” I say, surprising myself with my agreement and I force myself to turn away, with the fresh towel in hand. I’m halfway in the bathroom when she places a hand on my arm, drawing me to a stop. It’s a barely there touch, but I feel it through my entire body. Her hand is soft, manicured, and smooth; nothing like my rough and calloused ones. I breathe out a long sigh and turn to look at her, leaning back slightly because she’s staring up at me with sad forest green eyes, her expression suddenly … broken.

  My gut clenches. I’m going to strangle whoever it is that’s responsible for putting that look there.

  “Vance …” she trails off, and all I want to do is scoop her up, take her to bed, climb in there with her, and make her feel better. Make her feel good.

  My cock jerks at the thought, completely onboard with the idea.

  Shit. Totally inappropriate.