Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (56 page)

I’ll be here. Miss u.

Martin comes down the stairs from my studio and declares my apartment clear and stalker-free, and I smile as I thank him and lock the door behind him. My phone buzzes as I do. It’s Josh’s reply:

Miss u to.

Be there soon, baby.

Don’t move.

Don’t move? Why would I move? I told him I would stay right here. And what does he mean he’ll see me soon? It’s only just after one in the afternoon. Surely he means he’ll see me this evening. What is it that has him so distracted and frazzled today? I don’t know but, whatever it is, maybe I should stop bothering him and let him concentrate on doing his job.
He can’t stay safe if he’s distracted by me.

I set my phone down on the table and head upstairs to my studio. I’m so excited and anxious about my meeting with Lola, and I just can’t wait to go through my stuff and see what’s there. I still can’t believe that I actually agreed to a showing of my artwork. Josh is going to be so surprised when I tell him.

Once in the studio, I head straight for the far side where there are stacks of finished canvases leaning against the wall. I haven’t painted many nudes but, I do have some. Mostly acrylic but, I did also dabble in oil for a short time. I know that I’ve done at least a dozen nudes in paint. Now I just have to rummage through my completed works to find them.

I work diligently, pulling the nudes aside and lining them up on the other wall so that I can really look at them. I have five set aside and I am pulling out the sixth one when I hear a noise downstairs and I freeze.
What was that?
I stand stock still, listening closely. I know that I heard something but … I’m not sure what. It almost sounded like the apartment door opening and closing. I know Josh said that he would see me soon but, Josh doesn’t have a key to my place.

Maybe he should.

Yes. Maybe he should, seeing as he’s here all the time. Hmm. I’ll have to give that some serious thought. But it doesn’t help me right now. I know that I heard something … what was it?

Quietly, I set the painting down and venture slowly down the steps and through the hall into the living room. I walk over to the door and check it. It is still locked, just as I left it, and I feel silly as a small wave of relief washes over me. Turning away from the door, I take a couple of steps toward the kitchen, but as I do, I get a strong whiff of smoke and it’s familiar somehow.
Cigarette smoke?
A chill runs up my spine as I recall the strong smell of cigarette smoke on my attacker and my heart begins to pound.
Oh, God. This is not possible. My door is locked. He can’t be here!

I turn quickly and see that I’m alone in my apartment. But something’s not right.
Josh!
I have to call Josh. Quickly, I walk to my cellphone that’s still setting on the table, but as I reach for it, out of the corner of my eye I see someone enter the living room from the hallway, and I look up into the face of the man with the tattoo! He is smiling at me but his smile looks evil.

“I told you we’d be together soon, Samantha,” he says in a creepy singsong voice.

I think all the air has left my lungs and my body can’t remember how to breathe. I can’t even scream, and God knows I’m trying. This can’t be happening. Not again!
Run, Samantha!
My stunned fight or flight response suddenly kicks in and I turn and make a mad dash for the door. But before my brain can tell my fumbling fingers how to operate the lock, he descends on me, one hand grabbing me around my waist as the other covers my mouth, and he pulls me away from the door as I kick and struggle against him.

Chapter Nine

Joshua

As I leave Sam’s apartment to head to work, I can’t get over how normal this all feels. Being with her. Waking up with her and starting the day together. Her fixing me breakfast. It’s difficult to remember that our relationship is still so new. It feels as though we’ve always been together. Like Sam’s a part of me that’s always been there but, somehow I just never knew it until now. Like she’s awakened some secret, special part of me that I never knew existed. What is that?
Maybe you’re in love with her, Pierce.

The thought halts me in my tracks and I stand for a moment beside my truck, just trying to wrap my head around the idea. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Love. What the fuck do I know about love? I have no answers to that question and I run a hand through my hair as I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

I try to push the questions aside and climb in behind the wheel and pull slowly out of my parking spot. Conner and Lee, they both implied that I’ve been acting like a love-struck idiot. And Mom certainly seems to agree with them. What the hell point was she trying to make last night, giving me Grandma Mona’s diamond ring?
Maybe they all see the thing you’re trying so hard not to, Pierce.

I shake my head to try and clear it of these troubling thoughts as I slowly make my way to the far side of the parking lot where Mr. Martin is keeping vigil, and roll down my window.

“Good morning, Martin,” I greet him stoically.

“Detective,” he nods.

“As you know, Miss Colby’s place of business is closed on Mondays,” I tell him, getting right to the point. “However, she has a very busy morning, and I’ve persuaded her to allow you to do your job today. You won’t have to shadow her from a distance; you’re on close protection duty. She won’t give you much trouble,” I assure him, and he nods at me again.

“Very good, sir.”

“She should be down shortly. Why don’t you wait for her in the lobby of the building? She’ll also be expecting you to sweep her apartment upon her return home. Call me if she gives you a hard time.” My voice sounds very authoritative but it’s just an occupational hazard. Luckily, Martin understands, being in this line of work. And he knows that we’re ultimately on the same side here, working to ensure Samantha’s safety.

“Yes, sir.”

As I pull onto the street and head for the station, I think about my brief exchange with Martin and I’m happy that he hasn’t attempted to run roughshod over our investigation. Instead he’s been very mindful of staying out of the police department’s way and respecting my position as lead investigator. Hell, he’s even respected my position as Samantha’s boyfriend during this whole thing, and idly I wonder why. I expected him to have more of an attitude with me, and to be determined to take orders only from Lucas Colby and no one else. But, that hasn’t been the case.

I don’t have time to think too much about it as I pull into the back lot of the police station a short time later. And as I’m parking the truck I suddenly get a lead feeling in my gut.
Shit.
Conner. I’ve forgotten all about my little run in with Conner on Saturday night at The Slammer. It’s not like this is the first time that Dave and I have bumped heads on something, but it is the first time that I’ve ever come that close to decking him. And I hate that it happened in front of Sam and Lindy. Shit! Well, I can’t sit here in my truck forever; it’s time to face the music.

As I walk into the station, I’m greeted by Simon as he is heading to the locker room. “Hey, Guy. How’s that sunshine of yours?” he asks, smiling that shit-eating grin of his at me. I am instantly annoyed at his ribbing.

“You see, Simon,” I smirk, pointing my index finger at him, “this is why I never tell you shit. Because you always find a way to use it against me.”

“Calm down, man,” he laughs. “I’m just messing with you. Did she like the dedication?” he shrugs, and I smile and nod at him.

“Yeah, she did. Thanks for keeping it anonymous.”

He shrugs again. “Well, you gave me a code name for her so, I figured you didn’t want your name in it either. So, was that her? The chick you walked out of the bar with?”

“Yeah,” I smile.

“She’s pretty. Looks a little young for you, though,” he teases.

“Fuck you, Simon,” I say with a smile and he laughs out loud as he turns toward the locker room. It’s a phrase I utter often during our band rehearsals. “Hey, Simon,” I call after him and he stops and looks at me expectantly. I hesitate a beat and then say, “Thanks for jumping in. Stopping me from doing something stupid.”

Simon shrugs once more, saying, “It’s not the first time I’ve had to pull your sorry ass off of somebody. I’m sure it won’t be the last, you dick!” He laughs as he enters the locker room and I chuckle, shaking my head, as I turn around and walk down the hall toward the detective’s bullpen.

I head straight for my desk and I can see that Conner is already there, talking on the phone, pen in hand and he’s scribbling on a notepad. I pull out my chair and take a seat as he hangs up the phone.

“Hey, Guy,” he says quietly.

“Hey,” I nod at him. The awkward silence is deafening. “What’s that you’re working on?”

“Just follow up on that home invasion. Prosecutor had a question about the arrest.”

“Something wrong?”

“Nah, it’s all good. Case is a slam dunk.”

I nod at him and the awkward silence is back. Shit. Might as well just get this out of the way. I take a deep, anxious breath and say, “Look, Dave … about what happened Saturday night … I’m sorry that I got so angry.”

He is silent for a long moment as he stares blankly at me. Then he lets out a big sigh. “For what it’s worth, Guy … I’m sorry too. Lindy says that I acted like an ass. Not just to you but, to Samantha too. She’s probably right.” He looks contrite and I don’t know what to say. I opt for humor to diffuse the awkwardness.

“Yeah, well … in your defense, you’re pretty good at acting like an ass,” I say with a razor straight face, and my comment takes Conner by surprise. He tries not to but, he can’t stop himself from laughing, and I smile.

We settle into our normal banter then and, after roll call, we decide to head out to canvas the area tattoo parlors one more time. As we walk out of the station and over to our unmarked cruiser, my cellphone beeps at me, indicating I have a text. It’s from Sam, informing me that she’s just reached the salon and that she’s following orders by texting me. I smile as I reply, telling her that she’s a good girl for doing what she’s told. And as I slide behind the wheel, I get her response, asking me to be careful today.
God, she is so sweet.
She’s worried about me. I text her back, telling her that I’m always careful on the job and reminding her not to give Martin a hard time.

“Are you going to text your girlfriend all damn morning or are we going to go do some detecting,” Conner asks with an impatient smile. I look over at him with a frown as I put my phone away.

“How’d you know it was Sam?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Maybe that goofy grin on your face. Jeez, do you ever have it bad!”

His comment makes me frown all the more, and I wonder again if what I’m feeling for Sam is love. I push the thought from my head again. I don’t have time to deal with that right now. We pull out of the lot and begin making our rounds, hitting up all the shops we’ve already canvassed about ten times now. This is so fucking frustrating, it’s not even funny.

I pull up outside our third stop of the day, Self Expressions. It’s a little hole in the wall joint where they do tats and body piercings and even brandings, and I remember from our previous checks of this place that the owner of the shop, some joker named Bobby Z, only works on Mondays and Fridays and he was never here all the other times we’ve come in. Maybe today we’ll get lucky.

There’s a receptionist behind a counter and she looks very professional as she sits chewing on her gum and flipping through a magazine. She’s peppered in tattoos, has piercings in her dimples, and she’s dressed in what looks to me like some sort of a Gothic clown outfit but, she’s actually pretty, in a weird sort of way. If you can get past the bright pink streaks in her dyed black hair and the red contact lenses. She never looks up at us, even though the door chime alerted her to our presence.

“So if we said nothing,” Conner asks her finally, “how long would it be before you acknowledged us?”

“Hard to tell,” she mumbles with extreme disinterest, still looking at her magazine. “I guess until I got bored, but who knows how long that could take?”

I smirk her. She can’t be much older than 16 maybe. “I like you sweetheart, you’re funny.” She looks up finally, albeit with an attitude, but when she sees me her eyes widen a fraction and she smiles.

“I like you too, you’re hot,” she says, raising an eyebrow at me.
Sorry, sweetheart. Twenty two is as young as I go. Besides … you are no Samantha Colby.

“Is your boss around?” Conner says, cutting through the bullshit.

She sighs heavily. “He’s over there,” she says disgustedly, motioning to a station at the back, and we head over to the chair where some scrawny kid is getting a tattoo from a big, burly, bear of a man with long black hair that’s tied back into a ponytail. He looks up as we approach and the recognition registers on his face immediately. He knows we’re cops before we even identify ourselves.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asks, turning back to his human canvas.

“You Bobby Z?” I ask as I flash him my badge, and he nods.

“You know that I am. I run a respectable joint here fellas, what’s this about?” he asks, looking up at us.

“Detectives Pierce and Conner, SPD. You recognize this?” I ask, holding up Samantha’s sketch of the tattoo.

He looks at the image for only a brief second before he says, “Yeah, it’s mine.”

“It’s yours?” Conner asks, clearly surprised.

“Yeah. It’s my work.”

“You’re sure of that?” I ask, my voice sounding harsher than I mean for it to.

“An artist doesn’t forget his own work. They’re like your children,” he says to me. “Besides, that’s a one-of-a-kind design. This guy comes in here asking for a flaming heart, I drew that design and he fell in love with it. I inked it on his neck.”

“So you know who has this tattoo?” I demand.

“Yeah, I know him. I’ve done a few of his tats.”