“I guess so. Stone called to tell me he’s located my father. He’s in an apartment in Harlem.”
I turn to ask Piper if she needs more wine, only to see her staring at me as if I’ve grown a third head. “What’s the matter?”
“Whatever you do on Sunday,” she says slowly, “I want you to do by choice. If you want to give your father some money, you should do it. But not this way. Not because he’s forcing you to.” Her eyes gleam with anger. “You’re calmer about this than I am, Wyatt. I’m furious. And you know what I’ve just realized?”
“What?”
“Owen knows how to break into places. I know how to be a good distraction, and you know how to do computer stuff.”
Owen straightens. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
Piper nods resolutely. “We’re going to break into this apartment in Harlem and we’re going to steal the photos.”
I’ve got to stop this nonsense before either of them get more excited. “Piper, the final round of Can You Take The Heat? is tomorrow. Our focus should be on the contest, not my dad’s bullshit.”
She shakes her head. “You’re wrong. You both helped me when I had no hope. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve given me the most precious gift of all. You made me believe in myself. I used to lie awake at night, worrying myself sick about money. You guys gave me peace of mind, and Wyatt, it’s time I returned the favor. Please. Let’s get the photos back.”
“There’s a flaw in this plan,” Owen cuts in. “It’s a set of photos. Wyatt’s father could have emailed it to himself, he could have uploaded it on the internet, he could have posted them on Facebook. We could delete them from his computer, but there will be copies.”
Something nags at me. I struggle to remember what my mother told me. “No, there won’t be,” I correct him as the memory returns. “My mother told me he used an SLR camera. He’s old-school. He doesn’t believe in digital cameras.”
“Excellent.” Piper jumps to her feet, looking excited. “Let’s go steal your photos, Wyatt.”
* * *
We flag down a cab and the three of us squeeze into the back seat. I try to protest, but neither of them is listening to reason. “It killed me to give Mendez Max Emerson’s computer files,” Owen says grimly. “I felt like I was rewarding bad behavior. Mendez lied to me and I had to help him so that Emerson’s would get disqualified. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let your father get away with blackmail, Wyatt. Not if I can prevent it.”
“I agree,” Piper says. There’s a stubborn look on her face, and I sigh when I see it. There’s not the slightest chance she’s going to change her mind.
The cab pulls up outside the building. We do a casual walk-by. The first thing we see is the desk in the center of the lobby, with a security guard seated behind it. “I see he’s already spending my three million dollars,” I remark wryly.
Owen assesses the layout of the building. “The elevators are behind a locked glass door. I’m assuming that residents have keys, and the security guard buzzes guests in.”
Piper straightens her shoulders. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” she says. “I’ll go in and tell the security guard that I’m looking for my uncle, and I’ll convince him to let me in.”
Her blouse shows a generous amount of cleavage. “By flashing him your boobs?” I growl.
She ignores my comment. “You guys just walk in like you own the place.” She gives me a mocking look. “You’re good at that. And I’ll hold the door open for you.”
Strangely, though this plan has a lot of potential to fall apart, it works exactly as we hope. The security guard lets Piper in after ogling her breasts. We stride in behind her, our timing perfect. I hold my breath, waiting for the guard to challenge us, but he’s gone back to fiddling with his phone.
We enter the elevator. “Do you know the apartment number he’s in?” Owen asks.
“Thirteen-forty-two.”
Owen hits the button for the thirteenth floor, and the doors slide shut. “Are you going to be able to pick the lock?” Piper asks him.
He nods. “I’m rusty, but this is an old building in Harlem. Unless your father’s installed new locks, getting in should be a piece of cake.”
Sure enough, Owen has no trouble opening the door. We enter, our eyes darting around the small studio.
A half-dozen moving boxes are stacked up haphazardly in the middle of the room. There’s an unmade bed against the far wall, and a small bedside table next to it. The room doesn’t have any furniture.
“There.” Piper points to an opened suitcase on the bed. “That’s the camera, isn’t it?”
I move inside and grab it. “He might have got the film developed,” Owen says. “Look around for prints.”
“Here.” Piper holds up a bright yellow envelope with two flaps, one holding a set of photos, the other containing the negatives.
I take it from her and flip through the photos quickly. It’s my mother’s house alright. The sink overflows with dishes. The dining room table is completely covered with clothes and piles of books and newspapers. When I see the chaos, my throat starts to close. I shove the photos back in the envelope. “Yes, this is it.”
Owen does a quick and efficient search of the room, making sure there isn’t another copy of the pictures. Nothing turns up. “No computer?” Piper asks.
“He doesn’t seem to own one.”
“Okay.” We’ve been here for five minutes. It’s time to go. “We’re pushing our luck. Let’s leave.”
We head downstairs without incident and hail a cab. When we’re safely away from the apartment, Piper starts to giggle. Owen shakes his head with a grin, and even I have to chuckle. “I can’t believe we did that,” I tell them.
“I can’t believe we didn’t think of it sooner,” Owen replies.
“We didn’t know where my father was,” I remind him. “Not until this evening.”
Piper just smiles happily and squeezes my hand. I’m about to pull her toward me and kiss her when all of our phones beep at the same time. “What the heck?” I swear, looking at the display. It’s an automated message from the cameras we installed.
It’s an intruder alert.
Someone is trying to break into Piper’s.
Owen exchanges a hard look with me. It’s past closing time at the restaurant. The place should be empty. And the timing, one day before the Can You Take The Heat? finals, that can’t be an accident.
We’re facing yet another act of sabotage.
I lean forward and tap at the glass partition to catch the attention of the cab driver. “Change of plans,” I tell him. “Take us to Hell’s Kitchen instead.”
45
Let no such man be trusted.
William Shakespeare
Piper:
The cab races toward my restaurant. Our phones beep again; the intruders have triggered the motion detectors inside the kitchen. “They’re inside.”
The kitchen cameras have been set up to stream to our phones. We watch three people enter my restaurant, but they’re wearing hoodies and I can’t make out who they are.
“What’s he holding?” Owen wonders, his eyes glued to his phone.
“Who?” I stare harder at my screen and notice what Owen’s seen. One of the intruders is taller and broader than the other two, and he’s carrying a case in his hand.
“How far away are we?” There’s a note of fear in my voice. What if they destroy my freezer or my range? We’ll be hard pressed to get a replacement in time for the contest tomorrow.
“Five minutes,” Wyatt replies, sounding absolutely livid. “And when we get there, I’m going to make these clowns regret that they ever decided to break into your restaurant.”
In four minutes, we pull up at the back door. Wyatt hands the cab driver a hundred and doesn’t wait for change. Owen’s already jumped out and is running full tilt toward the door. Though he growls something about danger, I’m hot on his heels.
I don’t care about my safety. I’m done with this nonsense. First the over-salted gravy, then Max Emerson’s stunt. I’m tired of the unending acts of sabotage. Like Wyatt, I want to kick some ass.
Owen unlocks the door and charges in, only to come to a dead halt. I almost slam into his back, then I look up to see what’s caused him to stop.
There are three people in my kitchen. One of them is opening a metal cage containing wriggling white mice. That’s not why I freeze. It’s because I recognize the intruders.
My father’s just let the mice out. My mother stands behind him, her expression nervous as the animals escape confinement and make a mad dash for freedom. And Kimmie leans against a counter, watching the proceedings with a peculiar look of satisfaction on her face.
All three look up with an expression of shock as we enter.
But their surprise is nothing compared to the betrayal that I feel.
“Mom? Dad?” My voice is low; my skin feels cold and clammy. I don’t want to believe my own parents are capable of such an act. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that with mice on the loose in my kitchen, someone will phone in a tip to the health department, who will promptly shut Piper’s down.
This time, the sabotage will be fatal to my restaurant. Once the public finds out why we were shut down, they’ll avoid Piper’s like the plague. We’ll lose money, hand over fist. We won’t be able to survive this.
Wyatt hurries in and takes in the scene in front of us. He turns to me, and there’s sadness on his face. “I’m sorry, Piper,” he says softly. Wyatt understands, more than Owen, how deep this act of betrayal cuts. He too has been betrayed by a parent.
A mouse skitters by us in search of a place to hide. Owen swears. “How many?” he snarls at my parents. “How many mice were in that cage?”
My parents don’t reply, but Kimmie does. “A dozen.”
Wyatt spares her a glance. “You let them in tonight?” he demands. “How much did they pay you?”
“Two hundred bucks,” she gloats. “I’ve worked here for twelve years and the three of you waltz in and order me around? I’d have done it for free.”
“You’re fired,” Wyatt snaps. “Leave.”
Owen makes a sudden dive and comes up with a wriggling mouse. “Eleven to go.” His voice is grim. “Piper, can you run home and grab Jasper? Let’s make that cat earn his keep.”
I should act, but I can’t. My heart is heavy and my throat’s choked up. “You did this?” I whisper to my parents. “You wanted me to fail so badly that you’d resort to this?”
My father doesn’t look me in the eyes. My mother stands erect, her spine stiff. “I just want what’s best for you, Piper. I want you to come back home, find a nice man and get married. Not spend the rest of your life doing menial labor.”
My control shatters at her words. “I don’t need to find a nice man,” I hiss at them. “I have two. You hear that, mother? I’m dating both Wyatt and Owen. At the same time.”
She looks horrified. Earlier this evening, I would have been devastated by her reaction, but not any more. I’m far too heartsick to feel anything other than numb. “I think you should both go,” I continue. “You’ve done your damage. Please. Just go.”
* * *
Three hours later, all twelve mice have been found and the kitchen has been scrubbed down. Jasper was great at finding the rodents, but he didn’t realize he was supposed to kill them. Instead, he wanted to play with them, and was quite disappointed when Owen took them away from him and put them in the cage.
“They’re from the pet store,” Owen says in disgust, looking at the trembling creatures. “Poor things, they’re frightened out of their minds.”
Wyatt’s looking a little green as well. “Are you scared of mice?” I ask him.
He shudders. “I found a nest of them once in a pile of newspapers. Ever since then, I’ve been terrified of them.” He frowns. “I know it’s a ridiculous fear.”
I put my arm around him. Owen makes sure the cage is latched shut, and comes around to hug me. “I’m sorry,” he mutters into my hair. “Your parents suck.”
I half-laugh, half-sob. “They really do.” I cling onto them, seeking comfort in their strength. “What happens now? I’m assuming a health inspector will show up to check on Piper’s tomorrow.”
“There’s no sign that anything’s amiss,” Owen responds. “They can’t shut you down unless there’s evidence that something’s wrong.”
“Kimmie could say she’s seen mice in the kitchen,” I point out. “She’s a waitress here. They’d believe her.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “I talked to her before she left.” His voice is cold as ice. “We have her on the camera feed helping your parents let the mice out. That’s a criminal act. I made Kimmie aware that if I ever heard from her again, I’d call the cops on her.”
“Oh.” That’s good news, but I don’t know if I have it in me to be hopeful. Not anymore.
“Come to bed,” Owen says. “It’s really late. Let’s stop worrying about what’s going to happen tomorrow and get a good night’s sleep.” He grabs the cage of squealing animals. “Where’s Tomas?” he says with a grin. “He seems like a competent sort. I’m sure he’ll sort these guys out.”
I exhale. Tomas is a softie, and in addition, he’s vegetarian. The mice will be just fine.
But me? I’m not sure.
46
Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.
Babe Ruth
Owen:
The next day, the three of us are on tenterhooks. Every time someone walks into the restaurant, we brace ourselves, thinking they’re from the Health Department. But the hours tick by, and an inspector doesn’t appear.
The format of the final is different from the prior rounds. The good news is that there’s no public vote. The bad news? The final round is about being able to cook under pressure. In forty-five minutes, the kitchen must make as many dishes as they can from their menu, and they’ll be judged for speed as well as taste.
I’ve eaten at the two restaurants that are Piper’s competitors today. Katsura is a Japanese restaurant that has one of the best tasting menus in the city, and Cava is an eatery with Spanish and Central American influences. At both places, the chefs are top-notch, and they genuinely care about their food. Win or lose, Piper is in very good company.
The cameras have been set up in the kitchen and on the restaurant floor. Josef, Kevin, and Salim are doing some last minute prep. Piper walks back and forth, her nerves impossible to conceal. I’m not worried. The moment the cooking starts, she’ll snap into the zone.
The front door opens. I look up, thinking it’s one of the judges, here to start the countdown. Instead, Piper’s parents enter.
Both Wyatt and I walk toward them immediately. Wyatt’s face is a mask of anger. “You’re not welcome here,” he says to Piper’s father. “Didn’t you do enough damage last night?”
He flinches, but doesn’t waver. “I want to speak to my daughter.”
Fuck. I’d happily throw the two of them out on the street, but there’s no guarantee that they won’t come back when the cameras are running. As much as I’d like to spare Piper the trauma, I’m helpless. “Stay here.” I glare at them. “I don’t want you anywhere near the kitchen.”
Going to the back, I signal to Piper. “I’m sorry, baby,” I tell her in a low voice when she nears. “Your parents are at the front. They say they want to talk to you.”
* * *
Piper:
I should have known this wasn’t over.
I count to ten to calm myself, and follow Owen out. I’m still angry. Sleep hasn’t lessened my bone-deep rage at the extent to which my parents would go to sabotage me.
“What do you want?” I ask them bluntly as soon as I see them. I note with faint satisfaction that they look terrible this morning. Guilt does not suit my mother’s complexion.
My dad speaks up. “Piper,” he says, looking uncomfortable. “I wa
nt to apologize.” He continues hastily, as if he’s afraid I might throw them out at any moment. “We went too far, your mother and I. We were so concerned about your life in New York that we forgot that it is your life to live.”
My mother nods in agreement. “I saw Angelina and Janice plan the wedding, and I wanted that for you and me,” she confesses. “I went a little crazy.”
“You salted the gravy when you played hostess, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she confesses. “Before these two,” she says, giving Owen and Wyatt a withering look, “you would have come back home when your restaurant failed. Merritt Grant gave it four or five months. Then you met these men and you started to turn things around. I thought I was going to lose you to New York forever, and I panicked.”
Bile rises in my throat.
My dad takes a step forward. “We were wrong,” he repeats. “We shouldn’t have interfered. I’m sorry, Piper.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t approve of this relationship of yours.” He glares at Wyatt and Owen.
My voice is hard. “I don’t care whether you approve.”
“I can understand that.” His lips twist into a grimace. “I know we haven’t behaved very well, but you’re still our daughter. I hope you can find your way to forgiving us one day. Good luck tonight, Piper.”
I watch them leave, frozen with shock. Wyatt puts his arm around me. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“You guessed it was my mother from the start,” I reply quietly. “I didn’t want to believe you.”
His hand rubs my back, up and down, in a soothing, comforting stroke. “I didn’t want to believe me either,” he admits. “I wish I could have spared you the pain.”
Owen’s head swivels toward me. He’s been keeping watch for the judges. “Anita Tucker is walking up the street,” he warns. “She’ll be here in a minute.”
Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) Page 22
