Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

  I go about my task in silence as my mind works overtime and, before I know it, Josh comes striding out of the bedroom in that purposeful, confident gate of his. He is fully clothed and carrying his shoulder holster and gun and he looks every bit as yummy as he did when he arrived last night. He sets the holster down on the chair with his jacket and looks surprised to see that I have the breakfast bar all set and food laid out before him. I’ve made scrambled eggs, bacon and wheat toast with butter and I’m setting jam and orange marmalade on the bar as he sits down. There’s also coffee and orange juice.

  “Baby, you don’t have to make breakfast for me every morning,” he says as I take my seat beside him.

  “You don’t like breakfast?” I ask taking a sip of my juice.

  “No, I do,” he says looking at me a little guiltily. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to cook for me all the time.”

  “I like cooking for you, Josh,” I say softly, looking into his eyes.

  He says nothing for a moment and returns my gaze. Finally he smiles, shaking his head slightly and he reaches out and gently grabs my chin, leaning in to kiss me tenderly. He turns to his food then and we eat our breakfast in silence for a few minutes.

  “Did you sleep well?” I ask, popping a piece of bacon into my mouth. I watch as he spreads a dollop of orange marmalade on his toast and when I glance up at his face he’s wearing a small puzzled frown and he looks sort of lost in thought.

  “Yes, I did,” he says with a slow nod, and the puzzled frown is still firmly in place. He takes a bite of his toast and I can tell that he is still mulling something over. Oh, he can be so frustrating sometimes! What is he thinking? He lets go of whatever it is and turns to me, asking, “How about you? Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes,” I nod with a shy smile. “I have slept remarkably well for the past two nights,” I say softly. Hmm? Would that be all the sex or the fact that he holds you in his arms all night long? My subconscious asks a good question but, I don’t have an answer for her. I suspect that it’s a little of both.

  He returns my shy smile with a sexy grin of his own. “Have you now, Miss Colby?” His voice is low and sexy as he looks into my eyes and I nod silently as I feel the color rise in my cheeks. I look away, sipping my orange juice. “Well, how would you like to sleep that well again tonight?”

  “Are you inviting yourself over tonight, Detective Pierce?” I ask a little smugly with a raised eyebrow. And I think my sarcastic question surprises him and he laughs slightly.

  “Oh, no, Miss Colby,” he says with that sexy grin of his. “I’d be more than happy to find out how we sleep at my place if you’d like. But I have to warn you I’m not much of a cook. I do, however, have excellent skills at ordering take out.” He is piercing me with an intense blue gaze and it’s sexy as hell. And I know that he is laughing at me and I can’t help but giggle at him. He smiles at my laughter and takes another sip of his coffee.

  “Well, in that case, perhaps we should hold off on testing your bed for now and I’ll make us something here,” I say with a smile. “How does that sound?”

  “As you wish,” he smiles, turning back to his breakfast.

  “Do you mean that?” I ask, and he looks at me quizzically with a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

  “Of course I do.” He looks puzzled again and I take a deep breath and continue.

  “Because, if you really mean that … then maybe you won’t mind letting me sketch you,” I ask tentatively. He smirks at me and then rolls his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting out a big heavy sigh.

  “I said that I would,” he murmurs quietly after a slight pause. He shakes his head slightly and I get the feeling he’s surprised at himself for agreeing to this.

  “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Josh,” I say, about to let him off the hook. But he stops me before I can go any further.

  “No, Samantha,” he cuts me off, “I said I would. I want to,” he shrugs. And again, I get the feeling he’s shocked at his own words.

  “You do?” I ask skeptically.

  He nods slowly, looking me in the eye. “If it will make you happy, I do.” His voice is so earnest and I’m taken aback for a moment. Is this man for real? He is so … oh, I don’t even know where to begin. And I get lost in his impossibly blue eyes for a moment as I gaze at him. He is so handsome!

  He reaches out and lightly runs a finger down my cheek, bringing me out of my daydream. I smile shyly and turn back to my breakfast. A few moments later he turns to me. “I have to go, baby. I need to run home and change.”

  “Okay,” I say softly, standing to walk him to the door. Still sitting on the stool, he takes my hand and pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me. I stand between his legs, secure in his embrace, my hands resting on his muscular upper arms, and he holds me in silence for several minutes as we gaze into one another’s eyes. Hesitantly, I reach up with both hands and lightly run my fingertips over the stubble that frames his perfect mouth. Then I softly run my index fingers over those perfectly sculpted lips. Those lips that have been on every part of my body. He puckers his lips, kissing my fingertips before I trail them down his chin and across his neck. Then he pulls me closer and his lips find mine. He kisses me passionately as his hands roam over my backside, gently squeezing my behind. I moan softly and he pulls away suddenly.

  “Baby, we’ve got to stop or we’ll both be late,” he murmurs.

  “Okay,” I say again, pouting. He smiles at me and kisses my lips briefly.

  “Don’t pout,” he says with a quiet smile. “It’s too adorable.” I smile at his words and watch as he stands and puts on his shoulder holster and his jacket, then he holds his hand out to me. I place my hand in his and he turns, leading me over to the door. “I’ll come by after work,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. I nod silently, not making eye contact with him. “Hey,” he says, placing his fingers under my chin and lifting my face so that he can look directly into my eyes. “What’s wrong?” His voice is full of concern.

  “Nothing,” I say quietly, still not able to look him in the eye. I don’t want to tell him what I’m feeling. I don’t want to scare him away by being too clingy or moving too fast. I have to let him set the pace here. I have to.

  “Sam?” His concern grows deeper. “Talk to me,” he says, searching my eyes.

  I smile slightly. “It’s nothing really,” I say, feeling silly. “I just … wish we didn’t have to leave. I wish we could just stay here all day.”

  He studies my eyes for a beat longer and then gives me his shy smile. Oh, boy! “I wish that too, baby,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.

  “You do?” I ask, looking up into his eyes, and I can hear the surprise in my voice.

  “Yes, I do,” he answers, meeting my gaze. “But I’ve got to go. I’ll see you after work,” he says, leaning down to kiss my lips. “Lock this door,” he says sternly as he reaches for the knob. He glances back at me and gives me a wink. Then he turns and is gone, and I stand looking at the door, feeling bereft. I must stand there for a second too long because I suddenly hear, “Lock the door, Sam!” His voice is gruff and intimidating, and although it makes me jump, it also makes me smile. I quickly do as I’m told, reaching up to secure the door and I stand on my tip toes to look at him through the peep hole. He stands facing my door with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. “Good girl,” he says. Then he turns and walks away.

  I grab my cellphone on my way back to the kitchen to clear away the breakfast dishes and quickly find his number and dial. He answers on the first ring.

  “Yes, Samantha?”

  “Hi,” I say softly.

  “Hi,” he replies, and I can hear him smile.

  “Whatcha doing?” My voice is small and playful as I load the dishwasher and turn it on.

  “I’m walking out of your building and heading toward my truck,” he answers lightly and I giggle because I’m so happy that he’s in a playful mood.
“What are you doing?” he asks me.

  “I’m cleaning the kitchen before I jump into the shower,” I reply sweetly. “What are you doing now?” I ask him and he laughs.

  “I’m climbing into my truck and starting it up,” he says. “God, you are adorable,” he mumbles, almost to himself, and I smile from ear to ear.

  “Josh?” I ask after a small pause.

  “Yes, baby?” His voice is low and sexy and laced with laughter, and the endearment makes me feel special somehow.

  “Would it freak you out if I told you that I miss you?” I ask him nervously, all traces of humor gone from my voice.

  There is a long pause from him and I instantly want to kick myself. What happened to being patient with him and not rushing him, Sam?! I hear him let out a breath and I know that I’ve caught him off guard. “No,” he says finally. “That doesn’t freak me out, Sam. At least … not in the way you mean.” His voice is full of some unnamed emotion that I can’t place and I wonder what he’s referring to. Not in the way that I mean? How else could it freak him out? Sometimes I just don’t know what to make of the things he says; at times, he can be so cryptic.

  We’re quiet for a while until finally, I realize that I need to start getting ready for work. “Well, I had better get a move on if I’m going to get to work on time,” I say quietly, still feeling unsure of his last statement. “I’ll see you this evening?”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you this evening,” he repeats distractedly. “Samantha,” he says urgently, trying to catch me before I hang up.

  “Yes, Josh?”

  He pauses briefly and then says, “I miss you too.” He hangs up then, leaving me reeling. Did he really just say that? Did I hear him correctly?

  I hang up my phone and go about my morning routine in a daze. I shower and dress quickly in a chocolate brown pencil skirt and matching Louboutin pumps and a soft, pale green blouse, and drive to the museum completely lost in thought. Josh said he misses me! And I can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s feeling the same way I am. How are you feeling, Sam? It’s another really good question my subconscious is asking, and I’m afraid to respond. Not because I don’t know the answer but … because I’m scared that I do. And I know that it’s way too soon for me to be feeling this way, isn’t it? I mean, I just met this man. But I already know that I’m falling for him. I’ve known it since the moment he first kissed me on my balcony. He is under my skin … just like the song playing on my iPod is saying right now, and I will do whatever it takes to be with him.

  “Oh, my God,” I think to myself as I pull into a parking space outside the museum. “I am falling in love with him.” The thought is both terrifying and joyous and I know that this is crazy. I’ve barely known him a week! I hardly know him at all but, he is the sweetest, most amazing man and I want nothing more than to be with him and to get to know him completely. I want to know everything about him. Even the parts that he’s reluctant to tell me for some reason. And I find myself wondering again for the hundredth time why he’s so reluctant to open up to me.

  But I sigh and roll my eyes at myself as I’m getting out of my car to head into the building. Of course I know why he’s reluctant to open up to me; he told me himself last night. This is all new to him. He’s never done the relationship thing before and he admitted that the very idea scares the hell out of him. I have to remember that! No matter how eager I might be to rush right in, I have to remember that he’s scared and just feeling his way. And it wouldn’t hurt me to slow down either. After all, I have never had a sexual relationship before Josh. So maybe my feelings are so profound because I’m clouded by all the sex. All the incredible, deliciously mind-blowing sex! I blush and fan myself slightly as I enter the building.

  *****

  My morning seems to drag on as I sit in a small meeting room and listen to Carol Warden, one of the museum educators, as she lectures on the different collections of the Pryor Museum and certain talking points that every docent should be pointing out for each specific work. I try to concentrate on her every word but, it’s not easy. Especially since I know that I’ve got three more of these lectures to sit through this week and since I’ve been frequenting this museum since I was a small child. I was practically raised to do this job. I could probably give these tours in my sleep. But I’m not so smug to think that I know all there is to know about this job so, I really do try to pay attention. But my mind keeps wandering back to Josh and I wonder what he’s doing and if he’s thinking about me.

  Two hours later, I am out of the meeting room and wandering around the museum shadowing Nicole, one of the experienced docents, as she gives a private tour to a small contingent of elderly patrons. I watch with interest as she gets them talking about a Fritz Baer landscape and skillfully answers their questions with both charm and humor. She has them eating out of the palm of her hand and I am impressed with her technique. I think I can learn a lot from shadowing her for the next several days and I’m suddenly more excited than ever about my new position.

  We turn and head into another section of the museum and, as we do, I suddenly become aware of the sensation of being watched. I try to ignore it as I continue to shadow Nicole, listening intently as she begins to talk about the next work on her tour. Unable to help myself, I slowly begin to glance around at the other patrons in the museum. Looking off to my right, I see nothing out of the ordinary: a couple of moms trying to corral a handful of exuberant toddlers, a small group of college students wandering around with notebooks in hand – clearly trying to complete a school assignment. I glance slowly off to my left and see pretty much the same crowd. But that feeling that I’m being watched doesn’t go away.

  Nicole moves her group off to yet another section and I follow dutifully. As I do, I get the creepiest feeling running up my spine and I turn suddenly, looking around frantically but, I see nothing. You’re being very silly, Sam. My subconscious smirks at me and I know that she’s probably right. What could possibly happen to me at work? I’m in a public place with dozens of people, for heaven’s sake. I shake my head and turn around, walking quickly to catch up with my group.

  When I get there, Nicole is in full swing talking about the next work and she gives me a slight puzzled frown as she continues. I mouth silently that I’m sorry and try to make myself pay attention to what she’s saying but, my heart is racing and my breathing is shallow. Something is wrong, I can feel it. That sensation of being watched is even stronger now and I glance out of the corners of my eyes to both the left and the right. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Or who. But I know that I’m not crazy. Someone is watching me and I’m scared half to death.

  I know that I should just keep my focus on Nicole and what she’s saying but I can’t concentrate. I look off to the right again and see nothing strange. You’re being ridiculous, Samantha! My subconscious screams again but, I ignore her. I am not imagining this. I look off to my left and, as I do, I catch a fleeting glimpse of a man, not ten yards away from me, as he turns and heads for the museum entrance. I stare at him as he walks quickly in the opposite direction and my racing heart triples in speed and my lungs momentarily forget how to work. I am frozen to the spot watching helplessly as he reaches the main entrance and exits quickly through the front doors. I still can’t say for certain what his face looked like, but what I am sure of, is that he sported the flaming heart tattoo on the right side of his neck!

  “Samantha?”

  I yelp and jump about a foot when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn, clutching my chest and I can feel the tears threatening to spill over onto my cheeks. “Are you all right?” Nicole asks me, her voice full of concern.

  “I’m so sorry, Nicole,” I begin tearfully. “I think I just saw the man who attacked me!”

  “Oh, my God! Sam, are you sure?” she asks me incredulously and I nod frantically. “You should call the police,” she says insistently. “Do you think he’s following you?”

  At her words, I fall apart completely, hiding my
face in my hands as I begin to sob. She puts an arm around me and quickly leads me down to the large employee break room and sits me down.

  “Samantha, I’m calling 911,” she says, taking out her cell phone.

  “No,” I say, placing my hand on her phone, and she looks at me wide eyed. “I have the number for the detective who’s been working on my case,” I tell her. “It’ll be easier to just call him.” I take my cellphone out of my pocket and, as Nicole stands to go get me a cup of water, I call Josh.

  Just like this morning, he answers my call on the first ring, and I can hear his smile as he greets me. His voice is low, as if he’s trying to avoid being overheard. “Hi, Sunshine.”

  “Josh.” My voice is small and tearful and I notice that my hands are shaking.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” he says in that ‘take-charge’ tone of his.

  “He was here,” I sob. “The man with the tattoo.”

  “What?” He practically yells and I can tell that he’s instantly agitated. “There, at the museum? You’re sure?” My only response is another small sob. “I will be right there,” he says with an air of determination.

  “Okay,” I manage, and he hangs up while I sit with my head in my hands as Nicole sits quietly with me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Joshua

  “Fuck,” I mutter as I put my cellphone in my pocket and stand up, gathering my jacket as Conner looks up at me questioningly. “There’s been some action in the Colby case,” I tell him. “She thinks she just saw the creep in the museum.”

  He gets to his feet and hurries out after me. “I thought she couldn’t identify him,” he says as we exit the station and rush out to the car.

  “She saw the tattoo,” I tell him, climbing into the car. We ride in silence for a few blocks and my mind can’t help conjuring up an image of the way she looked this morning, curled up in my arms. And I swallow reflexively as I remember the small wave of fear that washed over me this morning after I made love to her. I frown at the memory now – buried deep inside her and completely lost in her hypnotic green eyes as my epiphany from the night before came glaring back at me.