Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (128 page)

He's a good man, Joshua Pierce. And for a kid who does not share one drop of my DNA and that I had no hand in raising, he has become the greatest son I could have ever asked for. I would do anything for that kid, just like he was one of my own. I sigh to myself as I think about it.

I look down at the paperwork Guy was working on when he got the phone call and decide to put it away for him, so nothing gets spilled on it. Gathering the papers, I place them back into the manila folder and then take it, and the others, and place them back into the briefcase that's sitting on the edge of the island. As I do, out of the corner of my eye, I see movement off to the left – near the french doors that lead to the backyard – and I know that we have a visitor. This fucker's good; I didn't even hear the door open. But I guess a career rapist has skillsets most of wouldn't think about.

My adrenalin spikes, and I'm suddenly aware of the butt of my Sig Sauer at my back. Briefly, my mind wonders where Martin and Clayton are, but I don't dwell on it. I can't. And I'm suddenly glad Samantha went upstairs for a while.

I don't have time to work out a plan, I simply move on instinct, drawing my gun as I turn. But before I can get off a shot, he's on me, plowing into me like a linebacker as my gun goes skidding across the kitchen floor.

*

I'm almost at the police station when my cellphone rings, and I hit the button putting it on hands free mode.

“Pierce.”

“Hey Lieu, it's Conner.”

“Dave, whatcha got for me?”

“I'm sorry, Lieu … it's not our guy.”

“What? You're sure?”

“Positive. We just got a hit on his fingerprints. It's not Scruggs.”

My mind goes immediately to Sam and the thought that I left her at the house.

“Fuck!”

“I'm sorry, Guy.” Dave says.

“Don't be. I appreciate the call,” I say as I hang up the phone. I pull a major U-turn in the middle of traffic and speed off toward home. And I hit the voice recognition button on my phone as I drive.

“Call Lee.”

“Calling Lee,” the artificial voice complies, and I listen as the phone rings. And rings. And rings.

“Shit!”

I speed up, hauling ass as I weave in and out of traffic, nearly blowing the doors off a marked blue and white on the way. I see whoever it is on my tail with their lights and sirens ablaze, but I ignore them. He'll run the plate soon enough and see that it's me. And I know the instant he does because he suddenly whips around me, accelerating as he begins plowing the road for me. The other cars begin to pull off to the right in order to get out of his way, and I floor it behind him, grateful for the assist. He leads me all the way into Redmond, and I blow my horn at him as I peel off and head toward home. I see him salute in his rear view mirror as he goes back to his beat.

A million questions run through my mind as I speed through the streets. Where is Sam? Is she okay? Why didn't Lee answer his phone? And if he was busy, why hasn't he called back? I try to tell myself that everything's fine. So the jerk they caught this afternoon wasn't Scruggs. I didn't really expect it to be him anyway. That doesn't mean that something's wrong at home. Scruggs could be anywhere. It's been days without so much as a peep out of him. Maybe he's abandoned this little game and moved on.
Or maybe he was just waiting for you to leave the house, Pierce.

“Fuck!” I growl again as my foot pushes the pedal to the floor.

I screech into my driveway, and as I do I can see Martin standing beneath the portico at the front door. He drops a cigarette to the ground and scowls at me as I jump out of the Porsche SUV and and hurry toward him.

“Everything good?” I ask with a frown.

“Last I checked before I stepped out here.”

“How long you been out here?”

“Less than five minutes,” he shrugs. “Clayton is on the monitors and Detective Parson was in the kitchen.”

“And Sam?”

“Mrs. Pierce was …”

Our conversation is stopped short by the sound of a single gun shot coming from inside the house, and my heart stops.

Time seems to stand still as everything moves in slow motion all around me. We rush through the door and my eyes dart left and right, scanning my surroundings as I go. I hear rather than see Clayton rushing up from the basement as Martin and I run through the living room and into the kitchen where the sight stops us all in our tracks.

There are obvious signs that a struggle has taken place: the long kitchen table is skewed off to the side, and a chair has been knocked over, as well as one of the stools from the island. There are traces of blood on the ceramic tile floor. And Lee and Scruggs both lay on the floor, still and lifeless as Samantha stands near the stairs, frozen in place, as the gun still smokes in her hands.

At the sight, my heart is jolted like from a bolt of lightning.
She's okay!
But I struggle to breathe as I look back over at Lee. His body is pinned beneath Scruggs, and neither one of them has moved an inch.

I swallow hard as I step closer to Samantha. “Give me the gun, Sam,” I whisper.

She doesn't move, and I know that she's probably in shock. I reach out and take the gun from her hands, recognizing that it's Lee's as I do. When I take the gun, she suddenly gasps and steps into my arms, burying her face in my chest as my arms close around her. I look at the scene once more as I hold her, and she starts to cry. And the fear starts to creep in as I look at Lee.
Oh, God.

Suddenly there's a low moan, and Scruggs' body moves slowly. Then with a push, he's rolled over onto the floor and Lee blinks as he tries to get his bearings. I am flooded with a mix of emotions at the realization that he's okay – relief, gratitude, love.

“Lee! Oh, thank God,” Samantha sobs, still clinging to me.

He sits up slowly, lifting a hand to his busted lip. Then he looks up and smiles at me. “I am so thankful that you taught that beautiful woman how to shoot.”

Chapter Twelve

Samantha

It has been an absolutely perfect Christmas Eve. Quiet and homey, and uneventful. In fact, since we put an end to the Bo Scruggs issue two days ago, it has been a Norman Rockwell holiday. Just the way my Dad would have liked, complete with the huge family dinner. Well, that part comes tomorrow when everyone – and I do mean
everyone –
will gather here. The entire Pierce, Colby and Parson clans will descend around 2 pm. All together, counting children, that's thirty-six people! I have no idea where I'm going to put them all. The kitchen table seats eight comfortably, and we've moved it into the formal dining room alongside the formal table, which seats twelve. That still leaves me about sixteen chairs short. But since eleven of those thirty-six people are kids – and six of those kids are still in high chairs, we set up a kids table for the five older children, and that means I'm actually only five chairs short.

The math makes my head hurt, but we finally solved the problem by bringing in a rented table and chairs for the remaining five bodies. And thankfully, the cooking's not falling all on my shoulders as Olivia, Celeste and Molly are all pitching in. It's going to be so much fun and I can't wait!

The twins are so excited for Santa to come. They've been helping Olivia and me bake cookies all day, and singing several rousing choruses of Jingle Bells throughout. Later, we had a lovely, easy dinner of homemade cheeseburgers and fries and Olivia stayed and ate with us before heading off to get ready for Christmas Eve Mass.

Josh and I spent the rest of the evening playing with the twins and doing the typical Christmasy things with them. We all sat and watched my favorite Christmas special on TV –
The Year Without a Santa Claus
– and Leo and Livvie dance around in delight when the Snow Miser and the Heat Miser do their thing. I love that part too!

When the special's over it's time to get ready for Santa, and I help my little elves set out the milk and cookies. I let them each choose a special cookie to leave for Santa, and we leave a small dish of baby carrots for the reindeer too. Then it's upstairs for baths and bedtime. We all pile onto Leo's bed and cuddle while Josh reads
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
from the picture book Uncle Lucas gave them a couple of days ago.

They've had such a full, exciting day that they fall right to sleep when we tuck them in. And Josh and I let out quiet sighs of relief as we walk hand-in-hand back downstairs and into the living room.

“You ready for this?” he asks, looking down at me.

“Are you kidding me? I'm so excited!”

“Okay, let's do it!”

We spend the next several minutes running around from one hiding place to another, pulling out the elements to make the magic happen for our sleeping treasures upstairs. We set up two matching tricycles – red for Leo, blue for Livvie, a real miniature artist's easel for her and a small Fisher Price race track set for him. There are also assorted stuffed animals, dolls and toy cars and trucks in every conceivable shape and size.

As we work, I suddenly feel a flutter and I caress my tummy with a giggle.

“What?” Josh asks, smiling at me.

“I think baby boy Pierce wants in on the fun.”

“You know, we can't exactly keep calling him that,” he says. “We should start thinking about names.”

“I know,” I answer with a frown. “Well, I was thinking about Joshua.”

“No! Absolutely not,” he says emphatically. “I let you give Leo my middle name, but that's as far as it goes, baby.” I don't even try to argue as I remember how difficult it was to get him to agree on Leo Dominic.

“What do you think of Christopher?” I ask.

“Hmm. That was your grandfather's name, right?” he frowns.

“Yeah. I sort of like the idea of naming our kids after people who are important to us.”

He smiles at me. “I like that too. And I actually had a name in mind, but … I'm not sure how you'll feel about it.”

“Oh?”

“Colby,” he says simply.

“Colby?” I can hear the surprise in my voice as I repeat my family name, and Josh nods at me. “Hmm. Colby. Colby Christopher Pierce?”

He smiles at me. “I thought we could maybe call him Cole for short,” he says.

“Cole Pierce. Sounds mysterious. I like it,” I smile at him. And I feel a sudden jolt in my tummy, and laugh. “I think he likes it too!”

About an hour later, we give each other smiles of satisfaction as we survey our handiwork, and Josh slips his arm around me and lightly kisses the top of my head. “Now that that's done,” he smiles, still looking at the tree and the small mountain of gifts beneath it, “tell me, Samantha. Have you been a good girl this year?”

Something about the sound of his voice sends a delicious shiver up my spine, and I smile slowly as I think about the implications of that.

“Oh, I think I've been a very good girl, Santa,” I answer softly. “But you can try me if you don't want to take my word for it.”

I see his smile grow bigger as I glance up at him. And without a word, he bends and swoops me into his arms. “Maybe I'll do just that,” he whispers. Then he turns and walks with a very determined step, carrying me out of the family room, through the house, and up the stairs to our bedroom.

He sets me on my feet beside our bed and looks into my eyes. “I want you out of these clothes and in this,” he says, picking up a small gift bag from the bed.

“What's this?”

He shrugs his shoulders at me. “Just something festive I thought you'd look amazing in,” he says, his bright blue eyes boring into mine. “Go change, Sunshine,” he softly commands.

Smiling shyly at him, I do as I'm told. Walking into the bathroom, I quickly get undressed, eager to find out what sort of get up has sparked his fancy this time. It's a game that developed shortly after we got engaged when we discovered he enjoys buying lingerie for me. And that I enjoy wearing it for him.

I take my time, getting cleaned up a little before I open the small bag and pull out a very sheer, very sexy little outfit that can only be described as horny Mrs. Claus. It's two pieces, bright red trimmed in white faux fur. The panties are tiny red thongs, mostly string, that cover only my waxed mound, and as I slip them on I can't help but wonder if my husband remembered the fact that I'm well into my second trimester of pregnancy when this hot little number caught his eye. My baby bump is not huge but, it is there. Surely this outfit is going to lose some of its appeal for him with my state.

I pull on the top and adjust myself, situating my pregnancy-enhanced boobs in the small bodice before I let the sheer fabric fall around me. The fur-covered hem hits me just below the panties, barely covering my ass, and the ties that dangle from the bow on the bodice sport two large fur pompoms on the ends. It is very festive, as he said. But I feel extremely fat in it.

I take a deep breath as I walk to the door of the bathroom and open it up a crack to peek out. When I do, I see Josh turn to look expectantly at me. He's changed too, I notice, into a pair of Christmas-red briefs. They have a picture on them right in front of his package, but I can't see it clearly from here. And I don't really need to. Just the sight of him bare chested in nothing but the underwear, standing by the roaring fireplace is enough for me.

He walks slowly toward the bathroom with an amused frown on his face. “Are you coming out?”

Biting my bottom lip nervously, I shake my head. “I don't want to,” I say softly. “I think you forgot that I'm pregnant when you bought this. I look fat and frumpy in it.”

He smiles at me. “Baby, I did not forget that you're pregnant. I know your body like the back of my hand, even when you're pregnant. And the thought of you in that outfit has been fueling my fantasies all day long,” he says softly, his eyes never wavering from mine. “Please come out and let me look at you.” I hesitate as I stare back at him, and he reaches out his hand to me. “Come,” he whispers.

Still chewing my lip, I open the door slowly and step out, taking his hand. And I watch as his eyes slowly travel from my face down over the length of my body and back up again. His expression is so carnal and appreciative that it makes me feel sexy. The tension flows from my shoulders as my body reacts to his lustful gaze. I love the way he looks at me sometimes. He makes me feel so desirable.