Play It Again (22 page)

Vance pulls out of the parking lot and speeds
until we reach my house. We don’t speak on the drive, but he does
keep a comforting hand on my thigh the entire way, rubbing and
squeezing, trying to ease my nervousness. I spend the drive with my
focus on the dashboard, trying hard to keep my cool and not
hyperventilate.

He parks at the curb, behind a line of police
cruisers, and I’m out of the truck, walking toward the chaos before
he even cuts the engine.

It feels strange walking toward my house
right now.

Unreal.

It’s too bright, too many lights flashing and
people shouting. My neighbors are lining the sidewalk, trying to
get a look.

Strange and overwhelming.

Vance comes up behind me as I reach the fire
truck, his large, warm hand wrapping gently around my bicep,
pulling me to a stop. The truck is parked half on my lawn and half
on the street, blocking all traffic, the hose hooked up to the fire
hydrant at the curb in front of my neighbor’s house.

“Piper, hold up a second,” he says. “You
can’t just run in there, honey.”

“Right,” I whisper, my head bobbing up and
down. “We should find the person in charge and, uh, maybe—”

“Yo, Vance!” someone shouts, and my words
stall as I turn to see Wes jogging toward us, Kim struggling to
keep up behind him.

Vance squeezes my bicep, his warm hand
reassuring and comforting, and then he lets go, turning his full
attention to Wes, as he launches in, giving us all the details.

I hear words like firebomb … kitchen … living
room … through the windows … contained … partial from the cameras …
red Mustang … license plate … but my brain doesn’t register the
entire conversation, as my eyes take in the firefighters and police
and the smoke still coming from my house.

So many people.

So much smoke.

And then my eyes land on my truck, parked in
the driveway.

“How did my truck get here?” I ask,
interrupting Wes, frowning with confusion.

Vance cuts his dark eyes to mine. “What?”

“My truck,” I say. “How did it get here?”

His brow furrows and he regards me
peculiarly, as though he’s not sure why I’m worrying about my truck
right now. “Jase picked it up from the shop and brought it over
this afternoon.”

Feeling a chill that has nothing to do with
the cool night air, I wrap my arms around myself, shivering. “Do
you think the person thought I was home?”

“Piper,” Kim whispers, her gaze holding
steady on my distraught face as she grabs my hand, squeezing it.
“Aw, sweetie, don’t think about that. It’s going to be okay.”

I blink at her. Don’t think about it? How can
I possibly not think about it?

Vance’s arm comes around me then, pulling me
tight into his side. My body is trembling, I realize. I can feel it
vibrating against his arm. I feel my stomach turn and my heart
race.

Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.

I say nothing, because I don’t know what to
say. My gaze shifts back to my house, my eyes taking in the smoke
pouring out of the broken windows and the firefighters moving in
and out of the doorway, making sure the fire is out.

I’m aware that Vance and Wes are still
talking, but I don’t have a clue what’s being said.

This is bad.

I thought it was bad before. My God, I was in
a car accident because of this … this person, but this …

“Plates belong to Tara Smith,” Jase says as
he walks over to us, drawing my attention away from my house. “Cruz
is sending a unit to her place now.”

Vance

“Hey.”

I pull my eyes away from my cell phone and
look up as Piper slides onto the couch beside me. I blink a few
times, trying to clear the image of the text message I just
received from my mind, but it does little to help. The damn message
has imprinted itself behind my eyes, twisting up my insides and
leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

I glance at her, forcing a smile, and then I
do a double take when I notice she’s wearing one of my old tees.
It’s large on her, hanging off one shoulder and falling mid-thigh,
but she looks good in it.

Really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly, my smile suddenly
feeling more genuine as I turn to face her. “How you doing,
freckles?”

“I’m okay,” she replies just as quietly,
eyeing me strangely. “You look, uh ... tense. Is something
wrong?”

I stare at her, surprised she picked up on my
unease. I’m usually pretty good at hiding my emotions and keeping
my expression blank.

I don’t respond right away, my eyes
instinctively gliding along her face and over her body, wondering
if she really is okay. It’s shortly after nine in the morning, and
we’re at my apartment. We woke up about twenty minutes ago, and the
first thing Piper did was pick up her phone and call the insurance
company, which I’m sure wasn’t fun.

But as my eyes trail over her, I notice that
she looks okay. Tired and a little stressed, but there’s a subtle
determination in her eyes that tells me she’s holding it
together.

“It’s not my truck, is it?” she asks, her
tone slightly panicked. “Please don’t tell me something’s wrong
with my baby. I just got it back.”

I smirk, letting out an amused laugh. Of
course she’d worry about her truck. “It’s not your truck,
freckles.”

“Then what is it?” she asks, looking
skeptical.

I cut my eyes to my phone, still clasped in
my hand, before glancing back at her. Might as well get it over and
done with, I guess. “You want the good news or the bad news
first?”

I see her flinch at my words and she pulls
her feet up onto the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, leaning
away from me. She looks at me, her eyes cagey, and she whispers,
“There’s bad news?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I’ve seen that look before on her and I don’t
like it.

Not one bit.

It’s a look she’s given me a hundred times
before, the one that comes just before she runs away, or dismisses
me, and seeing it right now cuts deep.

Really fucking deep.

Maybe it isn’t the same one. It’s possible
she’s just feeling overwhelmed by the shit storm surrounding her,
but it sure feels like she’s about to blow me off.

I reach over, putting my hand on her cheek. A
nervous tick there has all of my protective instincts firing up. I
want to take care of her—more so than usual—and the sudden worry
that she isn’t going to let me has my nerves on edge.

Moving my hand from her cheek, I settle it at
the nape of her neck, squeezing gently. “Yeah, Piper, there’s bad
news.”

Sucking in a breath, she closes her eyes, and
turns her face away, considering for a tick. “I suppose I should go
with the bad news first, but I don’t think I want to hear it. Ever.
Maybe you can just give me the good news and keep the bad to
yourself?”

Her response makes me chuckle, and she gives
me a dirty look, pursing her lips, and I let my hand drop from her
neck. “Thought you wanted to be informed and involved.”

“Yeah, well, I think I want to change my mind
on that,” she says. “At least for today.”

“Okay, freckles,” I say, chuckling again.
“Good news it is then. Cruz pulled in Chad Miller last night and he
ID’d Tara as the blonde who paid him to loosen your tire.”

She frowns and tugs her bottom lip between
her teeth, biting on it. “Okay ... Okay. That’s good, I think, for
Chad at least. So, what’s the bad news?”

I cock a brow at her. “Thought you didn’t
want to know the bad news.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I want to know
it now.”

She sounds not nearly as confident as normal,
and I hesitate, knowing she’s not going to like what I have to tell
her, but I can feel her gaze as she waits for my response as I set
my cell phone down on the coffee table, and pick up my coffee,
taking a deep sip.

“They haven’t found Tara yet,” I say slowly,
keeping my tone as unbothered by the news as possible. “Cops
searched her place and by the looks of things, they’re figuring she
took off in a rush. Clothes were a mess, all over the bedroom, and
her dresser drawers were half emptied, hanging open. They’ve put
out a BOLO on both her and her car, but so far, nothing.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters
under her breath, and then she scrunches up her nose, looking at me
curiously. “Uh, what’s a BOLO?”

“It means be on the look-out,” I tell her,
and take another sip of my coffee. “I also heard from Jimmy while
you were on the phone with the insurance company. Tara reached out
to him. Sent him a text saying she was going to her parents in
Orlando. She needs time to think about the baby. Cruz has that
information, too, and he’s working on setting up a unit on that end
to pick her up when she arrives.”

“This is really screwed up,” she says. “All
of it. I just ... I don’t even know what to think. The spray paint
... the warnings ... She wants me to stay away from Jimmy, but I
don’t understand how she could think that there’s anything going on
between us.”

I do. At first I thought the same thing. The
two of them are close. Too close. And even though I know they are
just friends, and that they work together, it’s been hell knowing
that he’s living with her.

Pure hell.

I can completely see how Jimmy’s ex would
think that there was more going on between them than there is.

But instead of getting into that, I say, “You
didn’t tell me Jimmy’s ex is knocked up.”

“It wasn’t my news to tell,” she says,
shrugging a shoulder. “And she’s not really pregnant. According to
Jimmy, she can’t have kids. It’s just a story, something to get his
attention, something to guilt him into coming back.”

I’m silent for a moment, regarding her
incredulously. She says it as though it’s no big deal, and to her,
perhaps it isn’t. To me, though ... If I’d have known that Jimmy’s
ex was causing him so much trouble, I would have looked into her
already. Might have even been able to stop this shit before it went
this far. She hadn’t put either of them on the secondary list I had
her write up. Never mentioned a word about his issues. But I can
tell by looking at her that she never thought about it, never
considered the fact that all the vandalism could have been because
of one of her friends, so I don’t push it.

There’s no point, and it’ll probably just
piss her off.

“How’d it go with the insurance company?” I
ask casually, shifting the topic. “You get everything settled
there?”

She hesitates, narrowing her eyes at me, and
for a long moment, I think she’s going to ask more questions about
Tara. Questions I just don’t have the answers to—yet.

“I’m not really sure,” she replies
eventually. “They’re sending an adjuster over to my house for
eleven, so I guess I’ll know more after that.”

“We’ll head over there after I get some food
in you,” I say. “Want you to pack up whatever you’re gonna need to
stay here for the next little while.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, but you don’t have to take
me. Kim’s meeting me there and …” she stalls for a tick, her brow
furrowing, as she regards me hesitantly. “Did you just say I’m
staying here for the, uh, next little while?”

I nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“I can’t do that,” she says right away,
shaking her head.

I cock a brow at her. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because, I, uh …” Her face flushes. “I … I
just don’t think that’s a good idea.”

My brow dips as I frown at her. “You’re my
girl and I take care of what’s mine, so I’m not seeing what isn’t
good about you staying here.”

“I’m your girl?” she asks. Her tone is
hesitant, but a small smile touches her lips and her pretty eyes
brighten with both fear and excitement.

I nod my head slowly, grinning as I watch her
head bob up and down with mine.

So goddamn adorable.

“I’ve got a feeling you’ve been my girl for a
long time now,” I say, inching toward her slowly, my expression
serious. “I was just too stupid to realize it.”

Piper’s eyes sparkle and her cheeks burn
brighter. She tugs the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth,
biting it nervously. “I … uh … I …”

“You get that I’m keeping you, right?” I ask,
ignoring her stammers, staring her in the eyes as I move closer
still, until the tip of my nose brushes against hers.

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t move
away, instead, leaning into me and pressing a barely there kiss on
my lips. “Good,” she whispers against my mouth. “Because I think I
want to keep you, too.”

Piper

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kim
sounds nervous and she clearly isn’t all that thrilled that I’ve
chosen to stay with Vance instead of moving back into my room at
her place. She’s sitting on Vance’s bed, legs crossed and elbows on
her knees, watching me as I unpack the few things I managed to grab
from my house.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I say as I grab one of my
tops, sniff it, and toss it back in my bag. The fire was contained
to the living room and kitchen, but the scent of smoke wasn’t and
it’s clinging to most of the fabric.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t come
back to the apartment,” she says exasperatedly. “Your room’s still
there, exactly how you left it.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “So it’s completely
empty?”

“No,” she says. “It still has that bookcase
in it.”

“Kim, that bookcase isn’t mine and it’s built
into the wall. Of course it’s still there.”

She frowns at me and raises an eyebrow,
silently asking me if I have a point.

Sighing, I pick up a pair of skinny jeans and
give them a sniff.
Ugh, smoky.
I should probably just dump
everything into the wash and be done with it, but I’m really hoping
to find something—anything—clean enough to wear tonight for Jason’s
barbeque.