Play It Again (11 page)

Jimmy is standing beside her, leaning against
the kitchen counter, looking not much better for wear. He’s in his
signature black—black jeans, black tee—with dark circles under his
eyes.

They don’t notice me right away, both of them
watching Vance as he scans over a piece of computer paper. “You
sure this is everyone?” he asks. “No pissed off exes or old friends
she screwed over?”

Kim snorts, rolling her eyes. “This is Piper
we’re talking about.”

Unlike last night, I don’t wait at the
doorway, walking right in and clearing my throat, as I shoot Kim a
look. “I don’t have any pissed off exes, at least none that I’m
aware of, and I don’t make a habit of screwing over friends.”

Kim turns to me, her expression showing her
amusement for a second before it falls away, and her eyes widen.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, a hand flying up to her mouth. “Piper, you
look like hell.”

“Shit, Pipes,” Jimmy says, his voice far
darker than I’ve ever heard it before. His eyes scan me critically
and he flicks his lip ring with the tip of his tongue. “Shit, your
face is bruising up, too.”

He steps over to me and tries to get a better
look but I slip past him, going straight for Vance, eyeing the
piece of paper in his hand, hoping like hell it isn’t my list,
because in hindsight, writing that thing while drinking was
probably not such a stellar idea. Did I really put down Heather
Tane and the coffee cup incident?

“Is that my list?” I ask, reaching out to
snatch it. “I should probably redo that.”

Vance shakes his head, holding the page just
out of my reach. “No, this is a good start, but if we look at last
night as an indication, this person is escalating and has a lot of
built up anger toward you. You most likely played a significant
role in their life.” He cocks an eyebrow in question. “Any of these
people fit into that?”

I shake my head. “No, not really.”

“Don’t stalkers typically try to isolate
their victims?” Jimmy asks seriously. “Like make it so their victim
is alone and in the end, the victim turns to them for support?”

“Not always,” Vance says. “It all depends on
what their end goal is.” He rubs his thumb along the dip of his
chin as he considers the list once again. “I’m gonna take this with
me, let Cruz take a look.”

“No, really,” I say, really not wanting
anyone else to read the asinine reasons why certain people made the
list. “I should redo it first.”

Vance ignores me, folding up the paper and
shoving it in his pocket. I frown at him and he laughs under his
breath as he leans in and places a light kiss high on my cheekbone,
brushing his lips along the bruising there, before his hands come
up, cradling the underside of my jaw in his palms.

He kisses me suddenly and intensely, and I
gasp, caught off guard. His lips are demanding, and his tongue,
persistent, licking along the seam of my lips, until I let him
in.

And I do.

I let him in and I melt against him.

I want the kiss to last forever, but in no
time at all it ends and he pulls away.

Still cupping my jaw, he grins. “Stay here
and try to eat something, yeah? I’ll call you if we find
anything.”

I nod jerkily as I meet his eyes. “Okay.”

His lips lift with a smile and he leans back
in, pressing another quick and chaste kiss on my lips, before
dropping his hands and turning away without saying another
word.

“Um, what was that?” Kim asks, stunned, her
eyes glued to her cousin’s back as he walks out the door.

I watch Vance until the front door closes
behind him, before turning to her. “It was nothing,” I say, with a
little shrug, though the words taste like a bitter lie on my
tongue. “Just a kiss.”

She gapes at me, and Jimmy grins.

I roll my eyes, unable to stop myself from
blushing under their stares. “Seriously, guys, it’s nothing.”

“That was not nothing,” Kim says. “That was
intense.”

Tell me about it.

Jimmy eyes me peculiarly for a moment,
flicking the tip of his tongue against his lip ring. “I have to
agree with Kim on this one, Pipes.”

I don’t know what to say, or what to think.
My cheeks are burning. I can feel my blush deepening and I turn to
the fridge and retrieve the Brita, trying to hide it.

“What the hell happened last night?” she
asks, her tone a tad irritated, as though she can’t believe she has
to ask the question. She gives me a torn look, as though she isn’t
quite sure if she wants to throttle me, hug me, or break out into a
happy dance. Her expression flickers for a moment, before finally
settling on curious excitement.

I grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it
up, not sure how to respond to that. I should tell her about last
night—that I made the first move. She’s my friend—my best
friend—and I know she isn’t opposed to me hooking up with her
cousin. The girl has been pushing me to get to know him for years
now and she’s always telling me that I need to be more assertive,
put myself out there more.

But the words stick in my throat.

I can still feel him, taste him. Jesus, if I
had have known that kissing Vance would be this … epic, I sure as
hell wouldn’t have waited this long.

Okay, wait. That’s not true. I have no idea
where my nerve came from last night. Maybe the pain killers?
Perhaps it was remnants of adrenaline from the accident? The
alcohol?

I don’t have a clue.

Stalling, I take a small sip of water,
forcing myself to go slow just in case, even though the cool slide
down my throat feels like heaven, and I glance at Jimmy for … I
don’t know what. Support maybe? An easy out to this
conversation?

“Don’t look at me,” he says, grinning. “You
know she’s gonna pester you until you spill.”

I groan. “Okay, fine. I kissed him last night
and I guess he took that as an open invitation.” I lift an eyebrow,
looking between them. “Anything else you need to know?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kim says seriously. “Where did he
sleep last night?”

I laugh at that. “On the couch.”

Vance

It’s a little after two thirty in the
afternoon when I arrive at Constant Pub.

The parking lot is nearly empty. There’s only
an unmarked cop car sitting cock-eyed across two parking spaces,
with Detective Jacob Cruz leaning against it, a file folder in one
hand, and the other dug into his short brown hair.

Jase and Wes aren’t here yet, though I’m not
really surprised. I’m almost fifteen minutes early, and knowing
them, they’ll be here with five minutes to spare.

I pull up close to Cruz, swinging my truck
into a space a few over from his jacked-up parking job. I don’t
dawdle cutting the engine and getting out, anxious to see if he has
any insight on Piper’s situation.

Cruz looks up at me as I approach, lifting
his square jaw in greeting. “About time one of you showed up.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask him,
raising an eyebrow. “Meeting’s at two forty-five.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he replies,
his voice a low growl. “I’m gonna kill Jase. I thought we were past
this shit.”

He’s dead serious as he says it, and I let
out a laugh, shaking my head. About a year ago, Cruz showed up to a
meeting five minutes late. It was a joint case we were working on,
one involving money laundering and a messy divorce. Long story
short, Cruz was supposed to arrest the husband on money laundering
charges, and almost lost his shot because of those five
minutes.

“What time did he tell you?” I ask, grinning
wide. I swear each time Jase adds a few more minutes just to piss
Cruz off.

“Two fifteen,” he says, closing the file and
tossing it onto the hood of the car. “Thirty minutes is a bit
excessive, even for him.”

I shrug, smirking at him. “You know Jase has
a thing about being punctual.”

“Five goddamn minutes late one time …” He
grumbles, and then stalls, his voice trailing off as he shakes his
head and lets out a deep sigh, fixing his eyes squarely on my face.
“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” I mutter under my breath,
leaning against his car, shifting uncomfortably. My entire body
aches; the skin covering my ribs on my left-hand side is bruised
and tight, and every muscle, every tendon in my right arm feels as
though it’s torn and stretched. I’m exhausted, too. I don’t think I
got much more than an hour of broken sleep last night between
waking Piper every two hours, and stressing the fuck out over her
constant vomiting.

He frowns. “How’s Piper doing?” I can tell by
the look in his eyes and the slant of his mouth that he isn’t
asking because he should, but because he’s truly worried.

I blow out a breath, low and shallow, and run
my hands over my face. “I don’t really know. She says the
headache’s fading, but she’s still vomiting, claiming it’s from a
hangover.”

He considers this for a tick, and then nods.
“Could be, but if it doesn’t settle down by tonight, you should
take her back to the hospital.”

“Told her as much this morning,” I say,
glancing around, my gaze settling on the file he’d discarded when I
got here. “That Piper’s file?”

He hesitates before turning around, picking
the file back up and handing it to me. “Uh, yeah, it is. Not sure
why the responding officers haven’t picked up on this and acted,
but I’m pretty confident that you guys are right. You’re dealing
with a stalker, and my guess is their motive is revenge.”

I nod as I take the file. I’d already come to
that conclusion myself. Opening it up, I scan over the content,
finding incident reports, but nothing that I didn’t already
know.

“She made a suspect list,” I say, setting the
file back down on the hood of the car and reaching into my back
pocket, retrieving the folded piece of paper. I feel my lips twitch
with amusement, recalling her notes about Heather Tane and the
coffee cup as I hand it to him.

Cruz studies me for a tick, before reaching
out and taking it. “Typically I’d say that’s good, but that look on
your face isn’t filling me with confidence here.”

I chuckle. “Just keep in mind she was
drinking when she wrote it.”

He unfolds the piece of paper, studying it,
his forehead wrinkling with confusion. He casts a disbelieving look
my way. “Is this for real?”

“Yeah,” I say, chuckling, meeting his eyes.
“Piper isn’t really one to make enemies. She’s pretty quiet, and as
long as I’ve known her, she’s kept to herself. Not many friends,
but the ones she does have are close.”

Cruz stares at me.

And stares at me.

And stares at me some more.

His expression flickers between amusement and
frustration, before settling into what I know as his cop face. “No
pissed off exes or friends?”

I shake my head. “I asked and she said no. No
one she’s screwed over, no ex who might be holding a grudge.
Nothing.”

He brings a hand up, rubbing the back of his
neck. “Jase said you’ve been keeping an eye on her for the last few
years. You really have no idea who might be behind this?”

I let out a strained laugh. Jesus, the way he
says it makes me feel like I’m the stalker. “First off, she lived
with my cousin. I was keeping an eye on them both. And second, if I
knew who it was, I wouldn’t be pulling you or the guys into it. I
would have just dealt with it.”

He considers me silently for a second, still
rubbing his neck before dropping his hand, and I can practically
see the cop wheels turning behind his eyes. He picks up the folder,
and pulls a pen out of his pocket, jotting down a few notes on the
outside as he asks, “Have you looked into her family? Could be that
the stalker is trying to get to her to punish them, not her.”

“It’s possible, I guess.”

“Dig into them and get her working on another
list,” he says. “If you give me the names and locations of her
family, I’ll run checks on my end, too, and see if anything turns
up.”

“I appreciate it, Cruz.”

I rattle off the names of her family members
and some identifying information, ages, where they live. I give him
as much as I can remember off the top of my head. Cruz scribbles it
down on the outside of the file folder, making notes of everything
and adding a few questions of his own.

As we’re finishing up, my phone beeps, and I
dig it out of my pocket, checking the display.
Piper’s house.
Front door motion detected.

My stomach sinks and my insides coil as I tap
the screen, unlocking the phone and accessing the security system
app. I know Piper isn’t expecting anyone, and I know no one has
left the house since me. I would have gotten a notification if the
doors opened or the alarm was reset.

Waiting impatiently for the front door feed
to load, I consider getting a new phone, or maybe changing my
service provider, because it really shouldn’t take this damn long
to pull up the feed.

“Everything okay?” Cruz asks from beside me,
his tone tight with concern.

I cut him a sideways look. “Someone’s at
Piper’s house and this goddamn feed is taking forever to load.”

His eyes fly wide open. “You’re monitoring
her house?”

“Yep.” I don’t know why he’s surprised at
that. Jase told him about the system we put in. What’s the point of
having a system if it isn’t monitored?

Glancing back down at my phone, I squint at
the image as the feed begins to take form, and frown at what I see
there. “It’s a courier service. One of those small same day
ones.”

Cruz sighs. “She runs a business from her
house. It’s probably something to do with that.”

“Could be,” I say, watching as the guy rings
the doorbell and a couple seconds later the door opens and Jimmy
appears. He smiles at the courier, signs the clipboard, and accepts
the package before closing the door.