by Cynthia Eden
“Mark?” Piper called.
The black curtains behind the counter parted, and he rushed out, a smile on his face. “Piper!” But the smile dimmed when he saw— “Eric?” Mark stopped. “You…is the protection detail still going on?”
Eric’s arm was around Piper’s shoulders. She felt him stiffen.
“He’s not here as protection.” She lifted her chin. “We’re together.”
Mark’s gaze jumped between them both. “Oh. Oh.” He winced. “Sorry, Eric, didn’t mean any disrespect. Just thought, you know, you two were…not like that. After what Piper said the other day, you know, about you being the bodyguard and all…”
“Things have changed. We’re like that,” Eric said flatly.
Mark shuffled to the counter. His hands tapped against the surface. “I…shit, I haven’t slept since last night. I got out of the police station when the sun was rising, and I-I just came here. But when I got here, the crime scene team was spread out all over the street. They are CSI-ing the shit out of your place, by the way, and every time I glance over there…” He flattened his hands on the counter. “God, I killed a man.”
Piper pulled from Eric and walked toward Mark. He looked so beaten and haggard. “You need rest. You should go home.” And not just stare at the scene of the crime.
His gaze searched hers. Dark shadows lined his eyes. “You’re okay, though. You’re safe. He can never hurt you. That’s what matters.”
“I’m safe,” she agreed softly.
Behind her, Eric’s phone rang. She looked back and found him frowning at the screen. “It’s Layla,” he told her. “Give me one second.”
He headed outside, and the bell jingled over the door.
Piper glanced back at Mark. She found that he was already watching her.
“You’re…really with him?” His voice was low, as if he didn’t want Eric to overhear. “You sure that guy is your type?”
“I’m sure he’s the guy I want.” Her hand reached for Mark’s and squeezed. “Mark, I know you must be going through hell. Have you contacted your sponsor?” That was the main reason she’d wanted to see him that morning. To make sure he was okay. To make sure that he didn’t turn back to the bottle.
He shook his head. “I…I need to.”
She nodded.
“My phone’s in the back.” He exhaled. “I could…I could use a friend with me. Come with me while I make the call?”
“Of course.” She spared a quick glance through the window. Eric was right outside. He met her stare through the glass. She gave him a little wave.
Then Piper followed Mark through the black curtain and into the back of the shop. The walls were filled with sketches. So much artwork. So many tattoo photos. Mark was an incredible artist. She’d tried to get him to do some work so that she could put it up in her gallery and—
“I saved you.”
He stood near a tattoo work station. His shoulders were bowed, and his hands were loose at his sides. She could see his phone, tossed onto the chair at the station.
“I killed him, and I saved you.”
“Mark—”
His head lifted. Rage twisted his face. “So why the fuck are you still with that sonofabitch Eric? You should be with me.”
***
“Layla, I can’t make out everything you’re saying. Our connection is shit.” Eric peered through the glass. Where had Piper gone? “You’re fading in and out on me.”
“The sister had eleven stab wounds!”
Okay, he’d finally heard her, loud and clear. But he wasn’t following—
“Mark Rogue’s sister!” She was practically screaming. “Eleven—” She cut out again and came back with, “Stab wounds!”
Fucking hell.
“Where is Piper?” Layla blasted. “I went to Mark’s home, but he wasn’t there.”
Now he could hear her perfectly. “He’s at his shop, and so is Piper.” He ran for the front of the building. Yanked open the door. The fucking bell jingled. “Piper!”
The thunder of a gunshot nearly stopped his heart.
***
She’d taken him down. When Mark had lunged at her, Piper had fought back. She’d punched the bastard in the face and kicked him in the left knee with all of her strength. He’d gone down, shouting at her, and he’d nearly slammed into the tattoo station.
At that point, she’d whirled for the door—
Bam!
A gunshot fired, and the bullet slammed into her shoulder. Piper staggered and nearly fell, but—
“I will shoot you again if you don’t freeze!”
Piper froze because she knew her back was a perfect target.
The black curtains that led to the front of the shop were about five feet away, and as she watched, they flew open. Eric appeared, his face wild and his eyes burning with fury.
Piper could feel the blood sliding down her arm.
Eric’s gaze went to the blood, and his eyes widened. His body stiffened as he—
“If you move, Eric, I will fire a bullet into her spine. I hit what I aim for.” Mark’s voice was a furious snarl. “That’s why she just has a wound in her shoulder so far. But if you play hero or if she tries to get away again, I’ll make sure she never runs again. Never runs. Never walks. Barely even moves at all.”
“You fucking sonofabitch!” Eric shouted. She saw his hand moving toward his coat and she couldn’t remember…did he have a weapon on him? Didn’t he usually have a weapon of some sort? But she didn’t remember seeing a gun holster on him that day.
Did he have a knife? Something else?
Her shoulder was pulsing as the blood kept dripping down her arm.
“You were supposed to turn to me, Piper,” Mark snapped. “I saved the day. You were supposed to be grateful to me. You were supposed to come back to me. I wanted you all this time. I waited for you. I set this whole stage so that you’d see I was the protector you needed. You were supposed to come back to me.”
Piper was staring straight at Eric. She saw his rage and his fear and his deadly determination.
“Not him! Stop focusing on him!” A scream from Mark. “Face me!”
She slowly turned toward Mark. He’d staggered to his feet and he seemed to be favoring his left leg. Savagely, Piper hoped she’d freaking shattered his knee cap.
With one hand, he held on to the chair, and with the other, he gripped a gun. Mark laughed when he saw her gaze fall to his weapon. “Had it hidden at my work station. Just in case, you know. I-I don’t like guns. They’re too rough, too loud, but they can get the job done. I don’t like them, though, I like—”
“You like knives, don’t you?” Eric called out.
Mark flinched.
“You like knives…just like the one you used on your sister.”
The gun trembled in Mark’s grasp.
Shock rolled through Piper. His sister?
“Eleven stab wounds,” Eric added fiercely. “That’s a very precise number.”
Was Eric closer? His voice definitely sounded closer. She hadn’t heard the sound of his feet moving…ninja skills.
“Your sister had eleven wounds. Just like Grady Fox did.”
“Shut up!” Mark yelled. Spittle flew from his mouth.
“And you were the one to find your sister’s body.” Eric’s voice pounded at him. “Or at least, that’s what you told the cops. You found her. But I’m thinking you were just there when she was attacked. Because you’re the bastard who killed her!”
“Shut up!” Mark lifted the gun higher. Aimed it right at Piper’s head. “And stop walking! Don’t move again! Stay where you are or I will shoot her!”
She could feel Eric behind her.
“You hurt Piper,” Eric said, his voice going quiet and cold. “All along, it was you.”
Her breath came fast. “Why?”
“I needed you back!”
“Why did you start drinking, Mark?” Eric asked, the words even softer. “It wasn’t because your sister was dead,
was it? It was because you couldn’t stomach what you’d done.”
But Mark laughed. “No, you’re so wrong. It was because I wanted to do it again. I liked it. I liked it when she screamed. She was always such an uppity bitch. The golden child while I was just the tattooed freak. I stopped that. I stopped her. And I wanted to do it again, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t…”
“Because then there would be a pattern,” Piper said, understanding. “And you wouldn’t get away with murder.”
He smiled at her. “When I was with you, I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. I was happy, and I wasn’t drinking. So I thought, if we could just be together again, everything would be fine.”
Piper shook her head. “Nothing is fine. You killed Grady. And…Jessica?”
A bored shrug. “I fucked her. I mean, I wasn’t fucking you—you with all of your no touch rules. But Jessica liked to get dirty, and she liked it often. I fucked her until she fell for that dumbass Dante. Then I think she started to get suspicious because she was asking me questions so…” A shrug. “I made her go away.”
Nausea rose in her.
“I like the knife. If the ME looks at Jessica close enough, he’ll see Jessica had wounds before she died.” A shrug. “If anyone bothers to look that close. I found that people don’t, not usually. They see what they want to see.”
Like…with Dante. They’d seen a killer who’d been stopped. They hadn’t seen a victim.
“Why was Dante in my gallery?” Piper asked, trying to keep the guy talking.
A smirk. “Because that’s where I put him. Grady wasn’t the only one I lured to town, though I didn’t use your email for Dante. He was so fucking clueless. I kept him tied up at my house, and he spilled all kinds of shit. He had paintings of you and Jessica. Said they were art. Said he was just an artist looking for beauty. Screw that. When I heard about the paintings, I knew he could be the fall guy. I could tie everything up, all nice and neat, and then I could have you.” Fury flashed in his eyes. “But you’re fucking this bastard! You’re messing everything up! It was supposed to just be a lie—Eric said you were with him, but you weren’t. He was your bodyguard, nothing else, it wasn’t supposed to be—”
“How did Dante get the stab wound to his chest?” Eric demanded. He was right behind Piper. She could feel him. Strong and solid. And…
His fingers slid down her arm. Squeezed.
“I gave him that wound,” Mark boasted. “Had to match up after Ben’s jerkoff self told the cops he’d stabbed his attacker.” A rough laugh. “He tried to stab me, but I was wearing my Kevlar vest. All he did was bruise me, but I hid that with a new tat.” The gun finally left her as he jerked open the coat he was wearing to reveal a bulky, black vest covering his torso. “Put it on when I got back here this morning. Bought the damn thing at the department store—a freaking work vest made with Kevlar. Ninety bucks. Had no idea it would be a game changer for me.”
The gun still wasn’t pointing at her because he was gesturing to his vest and—
Eric grabbed her. He shoved Piper behind him and stepped forward. Mark yelled and brought up his gun, screaming, but Eric was already attacking. Eric had yanked out a knife—he’d definitely been packing a weapon—and he threw it toward Mark. The blade hurtled end over end and lodged into Mark’s neck.
The bullet went wild. She heard it thud into the wall.
Eric leapt forward and so did Piper. She kicked the gun out of Mark’s grasp even as he sank to his knees. His eyes were open and terrified, and he immediately grabbed for the knife.
“Don’t pull it out!” Eric yelled.
Too late. Mark yanked the knife out, and blood poured from the wound.
Mark fell back. His fingers were soaked with blood. His legs were twitching and jerking. His hands flopped to his sides. The knife clattered to the floor.
“Shit!” Eric shoved his hands over Mark’s throat.
They needed an ambulance or the guy was going to die. Piper knew it. And maybe—dammit, maybe it would be better if he died. After what he’d done to Grady and Jessica. To his own sister…
But…God, could she watch a man die? Piper grabbed the gun and whirled to find a phone. There. She saw one on a nearby counter. She dialed frantically and demanded the ambulance. When she whirled back around, her gaze locked on the nightmare scene.
Eric was trying to save Mark. And Mark—he’d just picked up the knife. His blood-covered fingers curled around the handle. He was about to drive it into Eric’s side even as Eric fought to keep the bastard alive.
“Eric, get back!” Piper screamed.
Without hesitation, he lunged back.
“Drop it, Mark!” Piper aimed the gun at him. No one was going to hurt Eric. No one.
Mark smiled. Surged up at her—
She fired. One bullet. One fast thunder. One hit right in the middle of his head.
One hit.
One terrible, horrifying hit. Oh, God. The blood.
Silence.
The bell over the front door jingled, and Piper jerked. Footsteps rushed toward them and the black curtain flew open. She aimed her gun straight at—Layla Lopez. The gun trembled in her hands. I shot him in the head. Had to—he was wearing the vest. I didn’t know if the bullet could go through the vest. I shot him in the head and the blood flew out and—
Layla licked her lips. “You know I need you to drop that weapon.”
Her teeth were chattering. “I-I need to make sure he’s not going to attack again.”
“He’s gone,” Eric told her quietly.
Her head whipped toward him. He was beside Mark’s body, his fingers at Mark’s throat.
“He’s gone, baby. You can put the gun down.”
Gone.
The gun felt too heavy in her hand, but she lowered it slowly, oddly terrified that if she just dropped it, the gun would go off. The bullet would fly out and someone would get hurt again.
A shudder rippled over Piper’s body. “I killed him.”
“I swear, I did this scene already.” Layla blew out a hard breath. Then she strode toward Mark. Blood-covered Mark. “Told you, sonofabitch, I don’t stop until I catch the killer. Knew it was you, as soon as I read your sister’s case file. Couldn’t leave the office, not until I did it.”
Eric moved to stand in front of Piper. “Baby?”
He was okay. She threw her arms around him and held tight. As tight as she could. Piper never, ever intended to let him go.
In that one moment, that one terrible moment when Mark had lunged up with the knife, she’d known that she would do anything to protect Eric. She’d squeezed the trigger fully aware that she was killing so that he wouldn’t be hurt.
She loved Eric. And if anyone threatened the man she loved again…
I will always defend him.
“Baby, I think I almost had a heart attack.” He wasn’t holding her back. He was stiff within her embrace. “And all I want to do is put my arms around you, but I’ve got his blood all over my hands. I love you so much. So freaking much and I never, ever want to find some bastard holding a gun on you again and—Shit! She’s shot!”
And Piper became aware of the burn in her shoulder. A burn that she’d been ignoring until that moment.
As she pulled back from Eric, she saw that her whole left sleeve was soaked with blood. And her shoulder…damn, was the bullet still inside of her? Her head turned as she craned to see the wound.
It pulsed blood. Heavy rivers that poured every few moments. And the blood wasn’t just dripping down her arm.
It was more like pouring down her arm.
A siren screamed in the distance.
She felt her knees start to buckle. No way. She was not passing out after everything that had just happened. She locked her knees, but that only made the sudden light-headedness worse.
“I’ve got you.” Eric was there. “You protected me, and I’ve got you.”
Nice words. Wonderful words. But it was more like… “We have each other,
” she whispered.
He smiled at her.
She didn’t pass out. Did. Not.
The ambulance’s scream grew louder.
“I need a new tattoo…” Piper whispered. “Can’t let his mark stay on me. I won’t. Gonna have to get that moon changed into something else.”
Epilogue
“Okay, you’re going to be pissed, but you need help.”
Piper glanced up, frowning when she saw Ben’s reflection in the mirror. He looked all suave and debonair in his tux, his hair perfectly in place while she—
God, she felt like a hot mess.
“Isn’t your maid of honor supposed to help you with pre-wedding rituals?” Ben asked pointedly. Then he frowned over at the maid in question.
Layla glanced up from the magazine she’d been reading. The Rock smiled from the cover. Layla lifted a brow at Ben. “Getting dressed isn’t a ritual. I think Piper can handle that all on her own.”
“No, forget getting dressed. She’s dressed. The gown is on. She’s got the flowers. I was talking about the other stuff.” He wiggled his brows. “The something old, the something new, the—”
“The something borrowed, something blue,” Layla finished. Sighing, she put down Dwayne Johnson. “I am a detective. I have taken care of these things. Her dress is new, her underwear is old—”
“OhmyGod.” Piper squeezed her eyes closed. “You two are such trouble when you get together.”
“I let her borrow my necklace. Thank you very much.” Layla glanced at her nails. “Really, all she needs is—”
“Something blue,” Ben announced flatly. “And if she doesn’t have it, she’s going to start her marriage with bad luck. Can’t we all agree that we’ve had enough of that?”
Piper rolled back her shoulders. “I don’t think Mark counts as bad luck.” She rolled back her shoulders again. Just for fun. The dress was strapless, and she liked the way the soft satin felt when she did the little roll.
“He counts more as a psychotic,” Layla agreed, “if you ask me.”
Ben’s face peered next to Piper’s in the mirror. “I see no blue. Not even a hint. Not anywhere.”
“Your eyes are blue,” she told him. “And you’re usually in my space. Doesn’t that count?”