Play It Again (3 page)

I know other things, too. Like she loves
chocolate. She prefers beer or rye over any fruity drink, and she
has a bottle opener on her keychain. She uses coconut moisturizer.
She loves shoes, but not as much as handbags. She enjoys
music—anything from country to rock to hip-hop, she thinks pick-up
trucks are sexy, and she looks fucking incredible in jeans and a
pair of cowboy boots.

Yeah, I know lots of things about Piper Clare
Owen.

But instead of telling him all of that, I
say, “She’s Kim’s friend.”

Wes snorts, cutting me a disbelieving look.
“You telling me you didn’t run a background check on her when she
moved in with Kim?”

I damn near flinch when he says it, the shock
and subtle anger in his voice making me feel like an ass. But what
am I supposed to say? That I know lots about her, but none of it
will help with an investigation? Am I supposed to tell him her
favorite drinks, or what moisturizer she uses?

Shaking my head, I turn back to the window.
I’m too annoyed, too frustrated to be having this conversation
right now. I’ve spent the last two hours installing window sensors
and motion detectors, and I just want to finish it and get out of
here.

I need to clear my head.

I need to figure out what to do next.

Wes doesn’t seem to pick up on my frustration
and he keeps talking. “It’s fine. I’ll run a check. See if I can
find anything.”

This time I do flinch, and I turn back to
him, my response, immediate. “No, you won’t.”

Wes says nothing, but I can tell by the way
his face twitches that he’s biting down on his cheek, trying not to
laugh.

I glare at him.

The bastard already knows.

He knows I’ve already done the background
check.

He knows I just don’t want to share.

He knows and he’s just trying to get under my
goddamn skin.

Before I have a chance to tell him to fuck
off, Jase strolls into the kitchen, smiling wide. “He won’t
what?”

Wes laughs, glancing at him. “Vance doesn’t
want me looking into Piper.”

Jase looks from Wes, to me, his brow dipping
with a frown. “You saying we’re not going to look into this for
her?”

“I didn’t say that,” I grumble. “I said I
don’t want Wes running background checks.”

Jase doesn’t respond right away,
contemplating my words. Folding his arms over his chest and leaning
a hip against the counter, he regards me curiously for a few
seconds, but eventually he chuckles and shakes his head. “Good,” he
says, “because I already called Cruz. They’ve got nothing, no
leads, and no suspects.”

“What about the ex?” Wes asks. “What was his
name? Craig? Cameron? Chuck? It was something with a C. Didn’t they
date all through college?”

“Colton,” I say, without thought. “They dated
for two and a half years and they broke it off when they graduated.
He took a job out of state. It was a mutual break-up. No hard
feelings.”

Jase and Wes stare at me.

And stare at me.

And stare at me some more.

It’s Wes who cracks a grin first, raising a
questioning eyebrow. “Thought all you knew about her is that she’s
Kim’s friend.”

I turn my eyes toward him and glare, as the
corners of his lips twitch spasmodically. He’s usually better at
keeping a straight face, but today he can’t seem to hide his
amusement.

I grit my teeth. Glad he’s finding this so
funny.

A cell phone ringing distracts me from the
moment. It’s Jase’s. Digging it out of his pocket, he glances at
the screen and grins as he answers it. “Hey, darlin’.” He pauses
for a beat, his smile fading. “What do you mean you bought a truck?
You’re not driving back.”

Wes groans, cutting me a look. “Shit.”

I nod. That pretty much sums it up.

It’s been nearly three weeks since Jase came
home without Elena, leaving her in New York. After spending a year
on the run, hiding from her abusive cop fiancée, she needed space,
needed time with her parents.

But he’s been a goddamn mess worrying about
her.

Worrying that she won’t come home.

Worrying that she might hate him for killing
Lawrence Peck, even though the bastard shot Jase’s dad, and pointed
a gun at both of them.

Now he’s going to be freaking out about her
driving all the way back to Sacramento alone.

“No, you are not,” Jase says, his voice a
near growl. He pushes off from the counter, paces a few steps, and
his jaw begins to tick. “Jesus, Elena, I don’t care what color the
truck is. I don’t want you driving. It’s too far.”

I shake my head and swallow down my laughter,
exchanging a look with Wes. Did she really just try to use the
truck’s color to talk him into this?

“I’ll pay to ship your stuff here,” Jase
continues. “Hell, I’ll buy you new stuff. You’re not fuckin’
driving.”

Jase pauses for a beat, and then he pulls his
phone away from his ear, glancing at the screen, his frown
deepening. “She hung up on me,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I
can’t believe she hung up on me.”

Wes full out laughs. “Good for her. I’d hang
up on you, too.”

Rolling his eyes, Jase flips Wes off, before
he groans, raking a hand down his face. “Shit,” he mutters, the
grip on his phone tightening. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” I say. “She’s
probably stressing out just as much as you are. Give her a few
minutes and call her back, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, turning away. “I’m gonna
go pick up the new locks. You guys need anything else?”

“Secondary deadbolt for the front door,” I
say. “Thicker chain lock, too.”

Jase shakes his head, glancing back at me.
“She doesn’t need ...”

“I want it, Jase,” I say, cutting him off. “I
don’t want to have to worry about her here.”

“If you’re worried,” Wes says, “you can
always do what Jase did.”

Looking at him, Jase cocks an eyebrow.
“What’s that?”

Wes shrugs. “Move in with her.”

Jase says nothing to that, but he does laugh
as he turns away, heading for the door, and I shake my head, smile,
and then, before turning back to my work, I say to Wes, “Don’t you
have a monitor to install?”

Piper

The day slips by painstakingly slow, minutes
feeling like hours, hours feeling like days, but I do manage to get
some work done. I finish a cover draft and email it off for the
author’s approval, I spend some time scanning through photo stock,
trying to find the perfect images, but mostly, I just stare at my
computer blankly, waiting for the guys to finish up and leave.

I’ve come to the realization that I’m not
going to get much more done today. I considered going out there a
few times to see how the installation is coming along. It’s not
like I’m actually getting anything done in here, but I’m not ready
to face Vance just yet, not after the whole
badass hottie
thing, especially when I’m pretty sure he’s still pissed off at
me.

I click on another photo, enlarging it and
studying it, when the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway
draws my attention. I hold my breath as they grow near, hoping that
whoever it is will keep going, but they don’t, pausing outside my
office door, and then someone knocks.

Sighing, I push back my chair and stand up,
walking over to the door, opening it slowly. Vance stands in the
hallway with two boxes, one small and one large, in hand.

“What’s up?” I ask, and then clear my throat.
I’m so nervous. He’s smiling, a glimmer of amusement touching his
dark eyes, but there’s also something … agitated in his gaze. Is he
still mad? Does it matter if he is? I’ve spent the last few hours
convincing myself that I don’t care if he’s mad at me, but the
thing is, I totally care.

“We’re almost done,” he says, as his gaze
slides past me, surveying my office. “Just need to install a sensor
on the window in here and set up the last monitor. Mind if I come
in?”

Slowly, I nod when he meets my eyes again.
“Um ... yeah, sure,” I mumble. “Come on in.”

He walks into the room, smirking at me
cockily as he makes a point of shutting the door behind him.

I feel my face flush as he makes his way over
to my filing cabinet. He shifts a stack of papers aside and sets
down the boxes, before pulling out a pocket knife and slicing them
open.

Hesitating for a moment, feeling slightly
uncomfortable, I move over to my desk and sit back down.

This doesn’t have to be awkward
, I
tell myself.
So what if he knows I think he’s hot. It’ll only be
awkward if I let it be.

Vance rifles through the boxes, pulling out a
sensor, and steps over to the window. He fiddles with the pieces,
pulling them apart, and then with a measuring tape and pencil, he
begins marking the windowsill.

Silence swallows the room for a few seconds,
before he asks, “How’s business been?”

“Good,” I say, keeping my eyes on the
computer screen, clicking through images once more. “Busy.”

“You still doing websites?” he asks, glancing
over at me quickly, before returning his focus to the window.

“Some,” I respond.

“Not sure if Kim told you, but we’re opening
an office,” he tells me. “You should chat with Jase’s woman, Elena,
when she gets back in town. She’s gonna be running the place and
we’re gonna need a site built. Maybe you can do it.”

No, Kim didn’t tell me. The last I heard, the
PRG Investigations team only works on a referrals basis and it
keeps them busy. Crazy busy. Why would they want to open an
office?

I open my mouth, planning to ask a bunch of
questions, but all that comes out is, “Sure.”

Vance chuckles beside me. His eyes scan me
for a second, a look of curiosity on his face. “We’re back to one
word conversations, I see.”

I cut my eyes to him, feeling my cheeks heat
with another flush, hotter than before, and mumble, “Sorry.”

He chuckles again. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll
take whatever I can get.”

I let out a nervous laugh. What does he mean
by that? I’m not sure what to say, or how I should feel, or even
what to think, so I say nothing, do nothing. I just stare back at
him.

Ugh, this is so awkward.

He stands there for a long moment, watching
me, before the corner of his lip twitches up with a small smirk,
and then he shakes his head, turning back to the window.

I turn back around and start looking through
photos again, determined to find what I need.

It takes him a little over twenty minutes to
install the sensor and new monitor. I feel his eyes touch me every
few minutes, although he doesn’t say a word.

It’s not exactly uncomfortable, though not
entirely comfortable either.

It’s not the first time I’ve felt him
observing me. I felt it the day I moved out of Kim’s place, too.
He’d been there, watching me pack. He never said a word to me then,
either, but I felt his eyes following me around the house.

I try to ignore it. I really, really try, but
I can’t, and when he finally finishes setting everything up, I
nearly sigh in relief.

But then he calls me over to show me how the
system works and I realize he’s not done.

Eight cameras, three different kinds of
alarms. At home settings, away settings. He shows me how to pull up
the cameras, tests all the different alarms so I know what they
sound like. He tells me where all the monitors are, and then he
helps me program a code.

It takes another forty-five minutes to go
through everything I need to know about the system, and by the time
he’s finished, I’m ready to tell him to take it all out. It’s just
too much.

But I don’t.

Of course I don’t.

Instead, I write him a check for the alarm
system, and then walk with him to the door, noticing for the first
time that Jase and Wes are already gone.

When we reach the door, Vance opens it, and
then he turns back to me. He stands there for a moment, staring
down at me as though there’s something on his mind, but he’s not
sure if he should say it.

Not wanting this to get awkward again, I
smile softly. “It was really good to see you again, Vance. Thank
you so much for doing all this. I really appreciate it.”

“Piper,” he says, and then sighs. “I’m gonna
ask around, see what I can find out about the shit that’s been
going on here.”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want you to do
that, Vance.”

He frowns, narrowing his eyes at me as he
crosses his arms over his chest, making his already large biceps
bulge, as he regards me with what looks like frustration mixed with
anger.

“The police are on it,” I blurt, suddenly
feeling the need to explain why I don’t want him poking around.
“With the cameras installed, I’m sure they’ll catch the person
quickly.”

He stares at me for a moment, looking as
though he’s about to argue, but then his expression shifts, and the
corner of his mouth turns up in a half smile, before it spreads
into a full-blown grin. “You’ve got my number. Use it.
Anytime.”

“I, uh ... I will,” I stammer as butterflies
swarm my belly. He wants me to call him? Oh God, he wants me to
call him.
Anytime.

“I’m serious, Piper,” he says, his voice firm
but still, soft, warm. “Use it.”

“I will,” I assure him, and I will,
maybe—sometime.

He nods, seemingly content, and he takes a
few steps, backing out the door. “Later, Piper.”

“Later,” I say.

When the door shuts behind him, I try not to
smile, but fail.

Miserably.

Vance

My cell phone beeps and I open my eyes.

I’m on my back on the couch in my living
room, one foot on the floor, the other hanging over the armrest.
The lights are still on, so is the television, some infomercial
playing, and I’m still fully dressed.