“Good,” I say, keeping my eyes on the computer screen, clicking through images once more. “Busy.”
“You still doing websites?” he asks, glancing over at me quickly, before returning his focus to the window.
“Some,” I respond.
“Not sure if Kim told you, but we’re opening an office,” he tells me. “You should chat with Jase’s woman, Elena, when she gets back in town. She’s gonna be running the place and we’re gonna need a site built. Maybe you can do it.”
No, Kim didn’t tell me. The last I heard, the PRG Investigations team only works on a referrals basis and it keeps them busy. Crazy busy. Why would they want to open an office?
I open my mouth, planning to ask a bunch of questions, but all that comes out is, “Sure.”
Vance chuckles beside me. His eyes scan me for a second, a look of curiosity on his face. “We’re back to one word conversations, I see.”
I cut my eyes to him, feeling my cheeks heat with another flush, hotter than before, and mumble, “Sorry.”
He chuckles again. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll take whatever I can get.”
I let out a nervous laugh. What does he mean by that? I’m not sure what to say, or how I should feel, or even what to think, so I say nothing, do nothing. I just stare back at him.
Ugh, this is so awkward.
He stands there for a long moment, watching me, before the corner of his lip twitches up with a small smirk, and then he shakes his head, turning back to the window.
I turn back around and start looking through photos again, determined to find what I need.
It takes him a little over twenty minutes to install the sensor and new monitor. I feel his eyes touch me every few minutes, although he doesn’t say a word.
It’s not exactly uncomfortable, though not entirely comfortable either.
It’s not the first time I’ve felt him observing me. I felt it the day I moved out of Kim’s place, too. He’d been there, watching me pack. He never said a word to me then, either, but I felt his eyes following me around the house.
I try to ignore it. I really, really try, but I can’t, and when he finally finishes setting everything up, I nearly sigh in relief.
But then he calls me over to show me how the system works and I realize he’s not done.
Eight cameras, three different kinds of alarms. At home settings, away settings. He shows me how to pull up the cameras, tests all the different alarms so I know what they sound like. He tells me where all the monitors are, and then he helps me program a code.
It takes another forty-five minutes to go through everything I need to know about the system, and by the time he’s finished, I’m ready to tell him to take it all out. It’s just too much.
But I don’t.
Of course I don’t.
Instead, I write him a check for the alarm system, and then walk with him to the door, noticing for the first time that Jase and Wes are already gone.
When we reach the door, Vance opens it, and then he turns back to me. He stands there for a moment, staring down at me as though there’s something on his mind, but he’s not sure if he should say it.
Not wanting this to get awkward again, I smile softly. “It was really good to see you again, Vance. Thank you so much for doing all this. I really appreciate it.”
“Piper,” he says, and then sighs. “I’m gonna ask around, see what I can find out about the shit that’s been going on here.”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want you to do that, Vance.”
He frowns, narrowing his eyes at me as he crosses his arms over his chest, making his already large biceps bulge, as he regards me with what looks like frustration mixed with anger.
“The police are on it,” I blurt, suddenly feeling the need to explain why I don’t want him poking around. “With the cameras installed, I’m sure they’ll catch the person quickly.”
He stares at me for a moment, looking as though he’s about to argue, but then his expression shifts, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half smile, before it spreads into a full-blown grin. “You’ve got my number. Use it. Anytime.”
“I, uh ... I will,” I stammer as butterflies swarm my belly. He wants me to call him? Oh God, he wants me to call him. Anytime.
“I’m serious, Piper,” he says, his voice firm but still, soft, warm. “Use it.”
“I will,” I assure him, and I will, maybe—sometime.
He nods, seemingly content, and he takes a few steps, backing out the door. “Later, Piper.”
“Later,” I say.
When the door shuts behind him, I try not to smile, but fail.
Miserably.
Chapter Three
Vance
My cell phone beeps and I open my eyes.
I’m on my back on the couch in my living room, one foot on the floor, the other hanging over the armrest. The lights are still on, so is the television, some infomercial playing, and I’m still fully dressed.
“Shit,” I mutter, sitting up and rubbing at the kink in my neck. My muscles ache, my back is stiff. I’ve gotta stop falling asleep like this. I’ve got a bed. A comfortable bed. When was the last time I slept in it?
Last week?
The week before that?
A month ago?
Shit, I don’t even know.
My cell phone beeps again and I groan, reaching for it and checking the display, and I feel my eyebrows knit together at what I see there. Piper’s house. Rear door motion detected.
Suddenly fully alert, I tap the screen, unlocking the phone and accessing the security system app. My foot beats restlessly against the hardwood floor as I wait for the video feed to load, watching the words acquiring signal flash on the screen.
It feels like hours, although it’s probably only seconds, before the image finally begins to load, pixel by goddamn pixel. I narrow my eyes, scanning the small image on my screen. The motion lights above the French doors have been triggered, lighting up her back patio and standing there, hand on the door handle, face pressed up to the glass, peeking in, is a man. I can’t see his face, or anything identifying for that matter. He’s covered head-to-toe in dark clothing, with what looks like a wallet chain dangling from his jeans, and a hood pulled up over his head.
“Shit,” I mutter again, shooting up from the couch. Fire hits my gut, and it makes no sense. I knew at some point someone would be sneaking around her place and I’d get the alarm, but goddamnit, if actually seeing the bastard there doesn’t piss me off.
Scooping up my keys and wallet off the coffee table, I head for the door, grabbing my shoes off the floor and yanking them on, and then I bolt out of my apartment.
Not waiting for the elevator, I head for the stairs, jogging down the six flights with my cell phone in hand. As I move through the stairwell, I thumb through my phone for Wes’s number, tap on it, and bring the phone to my ear.
He answers on the second ring. “Yo.”
“A motion alarm is going off at Piper’s,” I say. “There’s a guy standing at her French doors. Looks like he’s trying to get in.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he says, his voice dry with sleep. “I thought this was just a vandal.”
“Me, too,” I say as I hit the lobby. I cross it with a few long strides and push my way through the doors. “I’m heading there now. You busy?”
“On my way,” he says, sounding more awake. “You want me to call Jase?”
I hesitate for a tick, before responding. “No. Let him sleep. He needs it.”
“Got it,” Wes mumbles as the sound of fabric rustling hits my ear. “See you in a few.”
“Later,” I say and then thumb the screen, ending the call.
Outside my apartment, I jog over to my truck, and haul my ass up into it, starting it up, and then I take off in the direction of Piper’s house.
A few minutes later, my phone beeps again, the display now reading: Piper’s house. Front door motion detected.
; Piper
A stream of subtle beeps fill my ears, and disoriented, I open my eyes.
I’m on my stomach in my bed surrounded by pillows, one tucked on each side with my arms curled around them, holding them close, two under my head, and one under my belly. The lights are off, the room, dark, aside from an annoying red light that keeps flashing from somewhere.
Half asleep and out of it, I roll over and push the pillows aside, sitting up. A glance at the clock tells me it’s nearly five o’clock in the morning, and I scrub at my face, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the sleepy haze clouding my head.
The beeping persists, growing steadily louder. It takes a few moments for the source of the sound to sink in, but when it does, I’m suddenly wide awake.
Oh shit. It’s the motion detector, not a full alarm, but a somewhat subtle warning that someone is close to a door or window.
Slowly, I shift my eyes to the screen and I swallow thickly, reading the warning flashing there. Rear door motion detected.
Oh shit.
Rear door motion detected.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Someone’s here. Someone’s at my back door.
My panic surfaces quickly, and instinctively, I grab a pillow, hugging it to my torso. I can feel my anxiety rising, closing up my throat. My heart pounds, thumping in my chest painfully quick.
Okay ... Don’t panic, I tell myself. You can handle this. Just get up, and pull up the camera. It’s probably just a raccoon, or a stray cat. There’s nothing to worry about.
Right, okay. Nothing to worry about.
I let go of the pillow and get out of bed. My nerves are a frazzled mess as I cross the room, silently pleading to the monitor to let this be a false alarm.
Carefully, I touch the screen just like Vance showed me, pulling up the video feed for the rear door, and what I see there makes my panic resurface, rising up my throat like bile. There’s a man, or at least I think it’s a man. Tall, lanky, and dressed in black, with a hood pulled up over his head, hiding his features. His hand is on the doorknob, rattling the French doors.
After a moment, he lets go. He doesn’t retreat right away, standing there staring at the door, before shoving his hands in his pockets, and stepping out of sight of the camera.
But the beeping doesn’t stop and moments later, the monitor flashes again, this time reading: front door motion detected, and I quickly pull up the front door video feed only to find the man now standing at my front door. He shakes the doorknob, before throwing his hands up in the air.
My heart stalls, rendering me motionless, before it starts pounding so hard it hurts my chest. This alarm system was supposed to make me feel safer, but oh my God, seeing someone outside, trying to get in … I think I prefer not knowing.
I need to do something.
I need to call the police.
I start to turn away, going for my phone, when the man on the screen shifts, looking up, and I catch a glimpse of the face.
My brow furrows and it takes a few seconds for recognition to settle in, but when it does, I sag in relief, nearly collapsing onto the floor.
It’s Jimmy.
I blink at the screen. What the hell is he doing here at five o’clock in the morning?
No. Scratch that. What the hell is he doing here at all? He should still be in Denver, working a photo shoot.
My heart is still pounding, my stomach, still in knots, as I make my way through the house, toward the front door, flipping on lights as I go. It takes me a moment to disarm the alarm, having to enter the code three times before I get it right.
“Hey, Pipes,” Jimmy says as I pull open the door, grinning. “Something’s wrong with my key.”
He steps past me, strolling into the house, kicking off his shoes as he goes. I watch him incredulously as he moves straight for the kitchen, pulling the fridge open and sticking his head in. I want to be mad. He just scared the daylights out of me. But I can’t drudge up the emotion, when all I feel is relief that it’s him and not someone actually trying to break into my house.
Rolling my eyes, I lock the door and reset the alarm, before I follow him, asking, “What are you doing here, Jimmy?”
He pulls his head out of the fridge, raising his eyebrows. “I sent you an email.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t send an email.”
“Well, I meant to,” he says, giving me a bashful look as he pulls out a carton of eggs and milk from the fridge, setting them on the counter, and then moves over to the bread box, opening it and retrieving a loaf. “Why did you change the locks on me?”
I’m about to tell him that I didn’t change the locks on him exactly—maybe even remind him that he doesn’t actually live here, and he was supposed to give me back my keys when Kim and I returned from Mexico last month—when I’m distracted by the sound of a vehicle pulling into my driveway.
Vance
Every light in Piper’s house is on when I pull into the driveway, and fire hits my gut once more as I imagine her inside, nervously studying the monitors, looking for the asshole that’s been messing with her.
Turning off my truck, I don’t wait for Wes, snagging my phone off the seat and folding out. I shut the door quietly, before striding toward the house, careful as I scan the property in the shadows of predawn, noticing that everything looks untouched. Whoever it was must have bolted when she turned on the lights.
As I approach the front door, my phone begins to buzz again, this time the motion sensors picking me up, and with the quick twist of the knob, I find the door locked.
I hesitate for a moment, slowly lowering my hand from the doorknob. I fiddle with my keys, fingering the one for her house, before sticking it in the lock and letting myself in. I only make it a step into the house when I hear a man’s laughter coming from the kitchen.
She has a goddamn man over.
My jaw ticks and my hands twitch as a mix of irritation and something that I don’t particularly want to give a name to, washes over me. It feels slimy and slippery and I don’t like it one bit. I’m possessive over my family, that much is true, but Piper isn’t family so I can’t justify why the guy in the kitchen makes me want to throw him down and break each bone in his face one by one.
I feel myself growing hot, and I take a deep breath, trying to keep my anger down.
I don’t have a right to be mad.
I should be relieved that she wasn’t alone when the alarm went off.
But I’m not.
The steady beeping of the alarm begins, signaling that the door is open, and I close it, before moving to the panel and punching in the code quickly, quieting the alarm.
“Vance,” Piper says from behind me. “What are you doing here?”
I turn to her, my jaw tightening when I see how she’s dressed. Tiny little black shorts, showing off lots of leg, and a tight light blue tank showing off too much cleavage.
My gut reaction is to tell her to put some damn clothes on, but I manage to swallow the words down.
“Morning, Piper,” I say calmly, keeping my voice steady as to not betray my irritation.
She regards me for a beat, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “How did you get in?”
I smirk at her, stepping away from the alarm panel, jingling my keys in my hand. “I used my key.”
She stares at me, the panic in her eyes dissolving into confusion. She doesn’t respond right away, her gaze shifting from my face, her brow furrowing as her eyes fall to my key ring dangling from my finger.
“Your key,” she says slowly, her eyes coming back to mine, quickly flaring with annoyance. “When exactly did I give you a key?”
Slowly, I stroll over to her, pausing right in front of her, so close, her breasts graze against my chest. I don’t answer her question because her tone tells me that any answer I give will definitely be the wrong one, so instead, I bring my lips to her ears, keeping my voice low as I ask my own question. “Who’s the guy in the kit
chen?”
Piper tenses, her body suddenly so rigid that it trembles slightly as a shiver passes through her. It surprises me that she doesn’t step away, instead, her body seems to tilt into mine, leaning closer.
I don’t know what to make of it.
She smells so goddamn good, like sunshine and sweetness.
My hands itch to wrap around her waist, my arms wanting to pull her closer, make sure she’s okay, but I force myself not to.
When she doesn’t answer, I ask again. “Who is he, Piper?”
“Jimmy,” she says softly. “He’s a photographer I use regularly.”
“Jimmy,” I repeat, confused. “A photographer.”
Piper nods. “Yes.”
I take a step back from her, needing to put some distance in between us before I end up wrapping her in my arms. “What’s he doing here?”
Piper narrows her eyes, watching as I fold my arms over my chest, and she places a hand on her hip. “What are you doing here?”
“Your motion sensor alarm went off,” I grind out, irritated. “So I came over.”
Piper just stares at me.
And stares.
And stares.
She’s waiting for an explanation. I can see it in her eyes, but I don’t know what else to tell her.
Her alarm went off and I came over.
It’s as simple as that.
When I say nothing else, she lets out a sigh, and realizing that I’m not going to elaborate, she casts a disbelieving look my way. “Please tell me you’re not watching my house, Vance.”
I stare at her and she tilts her head to the side, staring right back at me. She doesn’t look entirely put off by the thought of me watching her house, but she also doesn’t seem happy about it either.
I decide not to answer.
“You didn’t call,” I say.
“Um … no, I didn’t,” she agrees.
“I told you to call me anytime,” I continue. “Your alarm going off, with all the shit that’s been happening, seems like a pretty good time to use that number, don’t you think?”
Play It Again Page 3