The door opens almost immediately and I can see that her beautiful face is streaked with tears. She’s wearing a silver knee-length satin nightgown and she’s pulling a matching robe up over her shoulders. I have to make myself concentrate as I walk in and close the door behind me.
“Samantha.”
“Oh, Josh.” She practically jumps into my arms and she is shaking like a leaf. I try desperately to remember that she’s the subject of a case I’m working as my arms readily close around her.
“Samantha,” I repeat quietly, trying to bring my mind into focus. “Come on,” I say leading her over to the white leather couch. “Let’s have a seat.” We get situated on the couch and she’s still crying softly, unable to speak. “Samantha, take a deep breath, okay.” I reach out with both hands to gently wipe her tears away with my thumbs, and as I do, I notice a light smattering of freckles on her nose and her cheeks. Damn. She really is lovely. I take a deep breath myself and move back slightly on the couch. Maybe a little distance will help. “Tell me what happened, Sam.”
“I was asleep,” she begins with a shudder. “The phone rang and it was so late, I thought maybe something was wrong. I expected it to be my brother or my mom. But when I answered, there was just laughter.”
“Laughter?”
She nods her head, and I can see her bright green eyes well up with tears again. “Weird … eerie laughter. It sounded almost cruel. Mechanical somehow.” Her tears spill over onto her cheeks and I can’t help myself. I scoot forward and reach out to wipe them again.
“Did the caller say anything?” I ask, trying to at least sound professional.
“Yes,” she sobs. “He said, ‘we’ll be together soon.’”
Fuck. That does not sound good. “We’ll be together soon,” I repeat the words slowly. “Those were his exact words?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” At the chilling words, my training suddenly kicks in and I’m in ‘cop mode.’ I take the small notepad and pen I usually carry out of the inside pocket of my jacket and begin to scribble. “Did he say anything else?”
“No,” she mumbles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. I fish my handkerchief out of my pants pocket and hand it to her. She gives me a small, sad smile. “I still have the other handkerchief you gave me in the hospital. I’ll wash it for you.”
“Keep it. You can start a collection of them,” I say with a quiet smile as she blows her nose. “Can you tell me anything else about the phone call?”
She thinks for a second and then whispers, “Yes. There was music.”
“Music?”
“Yes. Like … creepy, mechanical music,” she says tearfully. “Like from a music box or something.”
I jot that down on my notepad and look up at her. She looks so forlorn. I want to fold her into my arms and hold her close. But I know I can’t do that. “What time did this call come in, exactly?” I ask, focusing on my job.
“2:19 am,” she says.
“How do you know that so precisely?” I ask.
“I looked at the time on my cellphone before I answered it,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Okay,” I sigh. “Good.” I scribble this last bit of information on my notepad and look up at her again. “Did you say anything to him?”
“I just kept asking ‘who is this?’”
“And no response from him?” I ask.
“No. Just the evil laughter and music.”
“Okay,” I say with another sigh. We’re both quiet for a few moments and I can hear the sound of a ticking clock somewhere in the room. I glance around and spot a small, ornate, silver clock on the marble mantle above the gas fireplace. It’s reading 3:03 am. I look back at Samantha and she looks so tired I think she might fall over. “Hey,” I say softly placing my hand on her shoulder, “let’s get you to bed. You look exhausted.”
“No,” she protests, her eyes suddenly big and round as saucers. “I don’t think I can sleep.”
I smirk at her. “Samantha, you look like you could sleep through a hurricane right about now,” I tease her. “Come on. Let me put you to bed.”
“No, please,” she begs. “I won’t be able to sleep once you’re gone.”
“Then I won’t leave,” I hear myself say. Her enchanting green eyes lock onto mine and they’re questioning me silently. “I promise. I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep. And then I’ll sleep here … on your couch.”
“You would do that?” she whispers.
“Yes,” I nod, holding her gaze. And I know that I’m making another big mistake, but I can’t stop myself. “I will do that.”
“Thank you, Josh.” Her words are a breathless, tearful whisper.
“You are most welcome, Samantha,” I reply. I stand then and hold out my hand to her. She places her hand in mine and stands up, still a little shaky, and I have to fight the urge to take her into my arms. Letting go of her hand, I take a step back, allowing her to lead the way to her bedroom. As we walk through her apartment towards her room, I notice a staircase at the end of the hallway and wonder where it leads. I had no idea this place had two stories and I wonder idly if our guys checked out the upstairs when they did their walk through after Samantha was assaulted. I’m sure they did. It just bugs me that I wasn’t aware of the second level. I’ll ask her about it in the morning.
When we reach her room, I glance around with slightly raised eyebrows. It’s easily twice the size of my bedroom at home. But it looks the way I expected it to. It looks like her. The walls are a soft blush color. All of them except one. The wall behind the black wrought iron headboard of her bed is a deep dark pink, like almost burgundy. The light in the room is soft and both the bed and the glass doors that lead to the balcony are covered in rich, billowy fabrics in shades of soft pink and rose. There are five framed sketches hanging on one wall like they’re in a gallery or something, lighted to perfection. They catch my eye because they’re all sketches of nudes – three female and two male – and when I look closer, they’re all signed ‘Samantha Colby.’ They’re really good. On the wall behind her bed is the Modigliani painting she told me about. A figure of a woman, lying seductively on what looks like a bed. It’s a very sensual image, almost erotic, and it surprises me. Just like Samantha Colby herself. In fact, the whole room is so perfectly her – a sensual mix of sweetness, innocence and eroticism.
And with that thought slithering enticingly though my head, Samantha removes her robe and climbs into her bed. Focus on why you’re here, Pierce! I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and move to the large, flower printed, overstuffed chair next to the bed and take a seat.
“Are you going to sit there and watch me?” she asks softly, a smile hinting at the corners of her delicious mouth.
“I thought that was the deal,” I say with a tired grin.
“I won’t be able to go to sleep if you watch me!” She smiles at me.
“Close your eyes, Samantha.” It’s a quiet command and she keeps smiling, but she does as she’s told. She’s so tired.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know.” Her words are uttered sleepily and they take me by surprise. “The guest room is down the hall.”
The guest room. Of course. What did you think she meant, Pierce? I smirk to myself and shake my head. It’s going to be a long night.
* domesticvoilencestatistics.org
Chapter Seven
Samantha
I wake with a start and I know that I’ve been dreaming about the attack or about the phone call but, thankfully, I can’t remember any details of my nightmare. Of course, I know that remembering more would probably help the police out with my case. But the more I remember, the more afraid I become. I sigh and run a hand through my hair and glance over at the time, rolling my eyes at my alarm clock. I hate it when I wake up before the alarm goes off. I should still be sleeping right now. Oh, well. It’s just five extra minutes. I fall back onto my pillow and wonder again what I was dreaming about
that woke me up. Probably had something to do with that creepy phone call last night. And then it hits me – Josh!
I sit up again and glance around my room. Somewhere in my apartment, Josh is probably sleeping. I still can’t believe he offered to stay just so that I wouldn’t be afraid to go back to sleep. It was after three in the morning when he made me come to bed. I suddenly smile to myself because that thought makes me think of the words to one of my favorite songs, and I know that I’ll be humming it all day long now.
I quickly shut off the alarm before it goes off and get out of the bed. Grabbing my robe, I pull it on as I wander out of my room and down the hall to the guest bedroom. The door is wide open, like it always is and when I peek inside, the bed looks as though it hasn’t been slept in. Hmm? Maybe he got up early and left already. Perhaps he had to get to work by seven? No. He said he doesn’t normally work weekends. Maybe he left in the middle of the night while you were sleeping. My subconscious mutters dejectedly and I frown. No, I reason to myself; he wouldn’t do that. I haven’t known Josh long but, he doesn’t strike me as the type of person who would make a promise without any intention of keeping it.
The guest bathroom is also empty. I wander down the hall toward the living room feeling hurt that my subconscious may be right, and I am slightly startled when I enter the living room and Josh is fast asleep on my couch. He’s lying on his back with one arm raised over his head, mouth slightly open, and he’s covered up by his leather jacket. His shoes are on the floor beside the couch and his gun is sitting on my marble coffee table within easy reach. He looks so peaceful and I wish that I could just let him keep on sleeping but, I need to dress and get to work.
I decide to give him a few more minutes and head into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. While I work, I can’t help stealing the occasional glance over at his beautiful sleeping form and part of me wishes that I had my sketchbook handy but it’s upstairs in my studio. Oh well, I don’t have time anyway. But look at those arms! The muscle definition is incredible and I can’t help wondering what his naked torso and back would look like. I’d be willing to bet that he’s beautiful all over.
When the coffee is ready, I pour two cups, add some cream and sugar to mine and place them both on a small serving tray. I add a small bowl of sugar and the creamer onto the tray and take it into the living room. As I quietly set the tray down on the table, I see a sudden flash of movement from the corner of my eye, and before I know it Josh is sitting up, gun in hand, and he’s looking at me wide eyed and startled. He lowers his gun just as quickly as he aimed it and I am standing frozen in place and my heart is racing.
“Jesus, Samantha!” His voice is a tired sigh and he runs a hand through his hair and replaces the gun to the table. “I’m sorry. Wake with a start in a strange place,” he mumbles, letting the rest of that sentence dangle. He sighs again and says, “I hope I didn’t scare you.”
“No,” I lie, trying to breathe normally. I glance at him and he is trying to hide a smile. I sigh as I sit at the end of the couch beside him. “Okay, maybe just a little heart failure,” I shrug, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“It’s okay,” I smile shyly at him. “Um … how do you take your coffee?”
“Black, please,” he says gratefully and I hand him a steaming mug.
“I could make you some breakfast if you’d like,” I offer as he sips his coffee.
“No, you don’t have to go to any trouble,” he smiles. He really is adorable, all disheveled and sexy. And I notice for the first time that he has the most insane dimples when he smiles. Wow! He is movie star handsome!
“It’s no trouble,” I say softly, lost in that smile. “And it’s the least I could do after I dragged you out here at that awful hour and made you spend the night.” My voice is apologetic and small. I really do feel badly about it now. And embarrassed. In the light of day, the events of last night must make me seem pretty silly.
“Samantha, you did not make me spend the night,” he says, piercing me with an intense blue gaze. “I stayed because I wanted to. Because I wanted you to feel safe. And you didn’t drag me out here either,” he says looking away and staring into his mug of coffee. His voice grows softer as he says, “The minute I answered the phone and heard you say you were scared, I was halfway out the door.” He looks up at me and says, “Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away.”
Oh. I don’t know what to say to his confession. And I don’t know what else to call it because that’s exactly what it was. But what does it mean exactly? He couldn’t stay away from me … because he likes me? Or maybe because he was just doing his job. He told me how much his job means to him. How seriously he takes it. Perhaps that’s what he meant. My subconscious smiles sadly at me and nods in agreement. Seems she’s given up on her delusional fantasies of anything more with the good detective.
He takes a last sip of his coffee and places his mug on the tray. Then he reaches for his shoes and begins to put them on. “I need to get home and get a shower.” He looks at me and asks, “How are you feeling after last night?”
“I’m alright,” I reply. “I’m looking forward to going to work today actually. I think I need to focus on something other than my creepy situation for a while.”
He nods in agreement. “I was thinking about that phone call after you fell asleep last night. The call came in on your cell so, assuming that the two incidents are related, this guy obviously got your number from your cell when he stole your purse. If you don’t have a land line, it might be a good idea to contact your cell provider and get your number changed. At least that way, this creep can’t contact you anymore.”
“Yes. I might just do that,” I answer. “Thanks for the suggestion.”
“I’ll be contacting your cell provider as well, to get a look at your phone records,” he says matter-of-factly. “Just so you know. Maybe they can tell us where that call originated from and we can finally get a lead in this case.”
He sounds hopeful and I can’t help sharing his feelings. “Will you look into that today?” I ask him, knowing it’s Sunday.
“Yes. Just as soon as I can get to the station. I’ll call my partner on my way in; we’ll put our heads together.”
He stands suddenly and reaches for his gun, tucking it into the rim of his jeans at his back. Looking up at him from my position on the couch, I marvel again at the definition of his arms. They are quite muscular. And again, I wonder what his torso and back look like beneath that snug, plain white t-shirt he’s wearing. He looks down at me and cocks his head to the side and I think I see a smile playing at his perfect mouth. He’s laughing at me! Oh shit, am I drooling? I stand nervously, embarrassed to have been caught lusting after this beautiful man!
“Were you just checking me out, Miss Colby?” His voice is all business and professionalism but he is clearly trying to conceal his smile. I, on the other hand, am mortified.
“What!” My voice is way too high and I know that I am blushing. “No … I…” I have gone scarlet from head to toe, I can feel it, and he looks very pleased with himself. “Um…” I say nothing else because, what can I say? There is no way for me to clean this up or to dig myself out of this hole. Unable to look him in the eye, I steal a glance at him and he’s enjoying my discomfort as he watches me squirm. Thankfully, he lets me off the hook when he turns abruptly and gathers his jacket from the couch. He shrugs it on as he walks toward the door.
“I’ll call you later to let you know if your phone records turned up anything,” he says without looking back. Then he turns when he reaches the door and says rather smugly, “If you do change your number, I would appreciate that information.”
“For professional reasons, of course,” I say softly. I’m still not able to look him in the eye. I’m so embarrassed.
“Actually, the job has nothing to do with it,” he says, and when my eyes fly to his, he is looking at me with the sexiest little smile. Oh, my God. What did he just say? Did I he
ar him correctly or am I hallucinating? He looks away, shaking his head in a ‘what the hell am I doing’ kind of way, and opens the door. “Come, lock this door,” he says sternly.
I do as I’m told and my mind is reeling. He’s interested in me! He just pretty much admitted that, didn’t he? Did I imagine it? Am I reading too much into his words? I’m probably reading too much into his words, right? Oh, I wish I had Megan’s savvy with men. She would know exactly what he meant. She would know exactly what to say in response. Maybe I should call her on my way to work.
When I reach the door, our eyes lock. “Thank you again for staying,” I say softly.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers. He gazes at me for a few seconds and then he shakes his head again slightly and turns to leave. He closes the door behind him and I know that he is waiting to hear the click of the lock before he walks away. I reach up and lock the door and then stand on my toes to look out the peep hole. I see him run a hand through his hair and then place his hands on his hips. He shakes his head once more and then turns and heads to the elevator.
What was all that about, I wonder as I turn and head back to the living room. Gathering up the tray of coffee and returning it to the kitchen, I rinse out the cups and load them into the dishwasher. Then I dash back into the bedroom to get ready for work. I shower quickly and when I’m done, I dress in my gray slacks and my black Pryor Art Museum Gift Shop dress shirt and then proceed to put my hair up in a bun. Once I’m dressed I brush my teeth and apply some moisturizer to my face. Then I dab on some mascara and a little lip gloss. I finish the look with my comfy black Jimmy Choo flats and I’m ready to go.
Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set Page 10