Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

  He looks at the flower in his hand as if he had forgotten about it. Then he nods his agreement. “Yeah, it is,” he responds. His deep voice sounds hesitant. As if he’s nervous. “It pales next to you though,” he says softly, offering the rose to me. I melt at his words as I accept the rose and bring it to my nose, inhaling its subtle scent. It really is lovely.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, and I can feel myself blushing again. He steps toward me and his hand reaches out and caresses my face. The touch instantly sets my skin on fire and I lean my face slightly into his caress. His fingers trail down to my chin and gently lift my face to his as he leans down and kisses me sweetly. Then his eyes study mine for a long moment, and he kisses me again. Purposefully this time, his tongue slowly stroking mine and I moan softly, pulling away nervously. We’ll never get to dinner if this continues. “Um, are you hungry, because dinner is ready,” I say lightly as I step towards the kitchen.

  “Whatever it is, it smells wonderful,” he says after a small pause. I find a small, glass bud vase in the cupboard and fill it with water. I can feel Josh’s eyes on me, traveling over my body and, although it makes me self-conscious, it also makes me feel sexy. I place the rose in the vase and set it on the counter. Then I turn to him and he is eyeing me intently.

  I motion him to a stool as I say, “I hope you’re a meat and potatoes kind of guy because I’ve made you a steak.”

  “Steak,” he says as he moves over to the breakfast bar, removing his jacket. His voice sounds surprised and he’s smiling. “Steak sounds great.” I set two ice-cold Coronas with lime on the counter and watch as he removes his shoulder holster and gun. Then I go about plating up our meal. The steaks are broiled to perfection and I’ve paired them with a baked potato and roasted brussel sprouts with pancetta. I carry the plates over to the breakfast bar and set them down. As I take my seat beside him I notice that he is eyeing his plate of food with raised eyebrows. I think he’s impressed and I smile to myself. I watch with bated breath as he takes up his knife and fork and slices into his steak. He pauses slightly and I get nervous.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I begin in a rush, “I should have asked. Is medium okay? I can throw it back into the fire if it’s too pink.”

  He looks at me in surprise. “No, baby, this looks perfect,” he says turning back to his steak.

  Baby? The term of endearment makes me smile. He used it a couple of times last night but, that was in the heat of passion, not during normal conversation. I don’t know why it makes me feel good, but it does. I continue to watch as he lifts the fork to his mouth and takes a bite. He closes his eyes for a second as he chews, and a slow smile spreads across his face. He swallows his mouthful and looks at me with raised eyebrows.

  “This is a damn fine steak, Miss Colby,” he says with a smile. “You are quite a cook.”

  I blossom under his praise and I can feel myself smiling from ear to ear. I turn to my own plate then and we eat in silence for a few moments. As we do, my eyes wander over him. He’s dressed in his usual dark blue jeans with a black dress shirt and he looks yummy. I smile to myself as I glance over at the rose sitting on the counter. It’s such an unusual color; it really is pretty. “The rose is very lovely,” I say as I take a sip of my beer. “I’ve never seen such an unusual color; I love it. Thank you.”

  He smiles at me. “The clerk said it’s called an Esperance rose,” he replies. “She said it’s French for…”

  “Hope,” I say softly, cutting him off. He blinks at me, surprised I think.

  “You speak French?” he asks softly.

  I nod shyly. “Some,” I shrug. “I’m not exactly fluent but, I know enough to get by on vacation. I spent a semester in Paris as part of the art program at UDub.”

  “Really?” His voice is low and unreadable. I can’t tell what he’s thinking and I feel self-conscious. “That must have been something,” he says quietly, turning back to his food. He seems nervous suddenly. Uneasy. And it makes me frown. I need to change the subject.

  “So, how was your day, Josh?” I ask, smiling at him sweetly. I really do want him to relax and open up a little. I want to learn all about him. “Did you catch any bad guys today?”

  He gives me that heart-stoppingly perfect smile of his and I forget to breathe for a second. Wow. “Well, as a matter of fact, Samantha, I did. Found the two guys responsible for a fatal home invasion case we’ve been working for over a month.” He sounds very proud of himself and he’s still smiling at me. He is so gorgeous!

  “Wow,” I say softly, still lost in that smile. “Congratulations. Is that the right thing to say?” I ask with a small smile.

  “You can say congratulations,” he chuckles at me and I can’t help giggling. And then something extraordinary happens. My very girlish giggling seems to affect his funny bone and his chuckle morphs into full blown laughter. Maybe it’s just nature’s way of breaking the ice between us, I don’t know. But whatever it is, I am grateful for it. His laughter is deep and hearty and it makes me laugh with him. Soon, we are both practically doubled over in stitches and I’m not even sure just what we’re laughing at but, it feels really good. As our laughter slowly subsides, the atmosphere in the room is much calmer than it was before and I get the sense that we are both a lot less anxious now.

  “Can you tell me about your case?” I ask, taking a bite of baked potato.

  He sets his bottle of beer down and glances at me with a slight frown. “I could but, you don’t want to hear about it,” he says, his voice low and hesitant as his expression grows serious.

  “Sure, I do,” I encourage him.

  He shakes his head slightly and looks me in the eye. “No, Samantha, you don’t. It was a very brutal case.” He turns his attention back to his plate and spears a brussel sprout with his fork, popping it into his mouth.

  “Brutal in what way?” I ask. I know that curiosity killed the cat but, his cryptic statement spurs me on. I can’t help myself.

  He fixes me with his intense blue eyes as he swallows his mouthful and says nothing for a beat. Then he sighs and says quietly, “The case involved mutilation and rape. Of a mother and a small child. Not exactly light dinner conversation. Trust me, you don’t want the details in your head.” He turns back to his steak.

  Oh. Really sorry I asked. “I’m sorry, Josh,” I say quietly. Way to put your foot in your mouth, Sam. I want to get him talking, not make him clam up. “But you caught them. That’s the important thing,” I say, trying to recover our brief relaxed period and he nods at me. “How was the rest of your day?”

  He smiles slightly. “My day was routine, Samantha. How was yours?” he asks. Once again, I can sense that he really doesn’t want to talk about himself. So I begin to chatter away about my day in the hope that it will loosen him up to talk about his own. I ramble on about studying the reading material for my new job and about my morning at the spa with Megan and her wedding menu frustrations. He surprises me then by asking me questions.

  “You and Megan … you seem close,” he says. And it’s more of a question than a statement.

  “Yes, we are,” I answer. “We’re so close in age we did just about everything together growing up. Honestly, she’s more like my sister than my cousin.”

  “That’s nice,” he says, looking me in the eye. “You and your brother seemed close as well.”

  “We are,” I confirm with a smile. “Lucas huffs and puffs a lot about what a pain I am, in typical big brother fashion. In fact, that’s his nickname for me: Pita.”

  “Oh really,” Josh smiles. “Pain In The Ass, huh?”

  “You got it,” I answer, and he laughs. “But he’s actually the best brother in the world. He’s very protective of me and he’s always there for me when I need him. Of course, if you ever tell him I said he was the best brother in the world, I will have to kill you,” I say narrowing my eyes at him.

  He laughs at my attempt to sound threatening and nods his agreement to silence. “That’s really nice,” he re
peats after a small pause. “I always wished I’d had a brother or sister.”

  “You’re an only child?” I ask lightly. Yes! Finally some personal information.

  He takes a deep breath and nods, letting it out slowly. “Yep.”

  “Did you grow up here in Seattle?” I ask, trying to keep him on a roll.

  “I did,” he answers. “You?”

  Damn. Back to me. “Yes, I did. Although my family has a home on Martha’s Vineyard and Mom and Aunt Jenny and my grandma would take all of us kids there for the summers while Dad and Uncle Ken and grandad would usually fly back and forth all summer long because they were so busy working.” He’s silent as he nods again, his eyebrows raised slightly, and I get the sense he’s feeling uneasy again. Is it something that I’ve said? “Um, what about cousins?” I ask him, and my voice sounds a little bit nervous. “Did you have any cousins to hang out with when you were younger?”

  “Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’ve got a couple of cousins but … they were a little older than me. We were never very close growing up.” His voice is low and full of some unnamed emotion, and I wonder idly what that’s all about. But I don’t dwell on it because I am quickly losing him. I need to regain the lighthearted, relaxed feel we had just moments ago. I grasp for something easy.

  “So, what do you do for fun, Detective Josh?” I ask, smiling at him as I sip my beer.

  He turns that megawatt smile on me again. “Detective Josh?” He’s laughing at me and I giggle. Oh, this is much better. His smile just does things to me that I can’t explain; he is so incredibly handsome. “Hmm, fun,” he says with a wistful smile. “I’m not even sure I remember what that word means. Seems like all I’ve been doing lately is working.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that for a minute, Detective Josh,” I say coyly. I think the beer is beginning to go to my head; I am such a lightweight.

  “And why is that?” He looks at me with a puzzled frown.

  “Well, because … how’s that saying go?” Oh, yeah. I am definitely starting to feel the light buzz. “All work and no play makes Detective Josh a very dull boy. And I don’t believe there’s anything dull about you,” I say looking into his impossibly blue eyes.

  He studies me with a very sexy gaze, a slight smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. His tongue lightly grazes his bottom lip and I think I begin to salivate. “Is that so, Miss Colby?” His voice is low and sexy and full of promise. “You find me wild and exciting?” he asks. His eyes burn into mine and his voice is laced with sensual humor.

  “I find you fascinating, Josh,” I say softly, my eyes locked onto his. We are silent for a long moment as we stare into one another’s eyes intently. “So,” I say softly, breaking the spell. “Fun?”

  He smiles slowly at me and finally looks away. He takes a last swig of his beer and sets the bottle down. “Well, whenever I get a little free time, I can usually be found in my garage at home,” he offers, “tinkering with my baby.”

  “Your baby?” I can hear the surprise in my voice and I give him a matching look: eyebrows raised, puzzled smile.

  “Yep,” he nods to emphasize his point. “My completely restored, triple black 1968 Dodge Charger R/T.”

  He’s wearing a smile as big as Texas and I am lost. “Okay,” I say slowly, “I’m going to assume that’s a car?”

  “Oh!” He grimaces as if he’s in pain. “Ouch,” he reiterates, clutching his chest. But he is clearly having fun at my expense. “That hurt,” he says in mock distress. “The ’68 Dodge Charger R/T is not just a car! She is a thing of beauty,” he smiles at me and I can’t help giggling at him. He is so adorable. “She’s a classic piece of Americana; a work of industrial art! Numbers matching, 4 speed on the floor, with a 426 Hemi, with two 4 Barrel carbs under the hood.”

  I am still unable to control my giggling; he’s having so much fun right now and I love it. “Okay, stop!” I hold up my hands as if in surrender. “You lost me back at ‘triple black,’” I say with huge grin. “What the heck does that mean?”

  “Okay,” he says laughing. “Triple black is a car term. It just means the car has a black body color as well as a black roof and black interior. That’s all,” he shrugs, still smiling. “But she is my baby and I am unapologetically obsessive about her. I’ve been actively restoring her for years now. Sometimes I take her to car shows and show her off.”

  “Okay,” I say with a nod and a smile. This is nice. I’ve finally got him talking. “What else do you do for fun, Josh?”

  He’s quiet for a moment, still smiling at me. Then he appears to have some sort of internal argument with himself, as if he’s not sure he wants to divulge the information. Finally, he shrugs and says, somewhat bashfully, “I play guitar a little.”

  “Really?” This news surprises me, and he nods in response. “Are you any good?” I ask excitedly. He shrugs again and I get the feeling he’s either a little self-conscious about his playing or he’s trying to be modest about it. Now I really am intrigued. “What sort of guitar do you play?” I ask, trying to flesh him out.

  “Well,” he begins with a sigh, “when I play with the band, I…”

  “A band! Really?” I am floored, and he looks at me with a shy smile. Oh, boy.

  “Yeah,” he says quietly. “A few buddies on the force, we uh … we like to play together sometimes,” he shrugs. “When I play with them, I usually play lead guitar. But I also like to mess around with an acoustic.”

  I am speechless. I never expected this turn of events; I have so many questions and no clue where to begin. “What sort of music do you play with the band?”

  He chuckles and I think he’s laughing at the frank surprise in my voice. “We just play covers,” he says with a smile. “Mostly rock.”

  “Do you sing?” I ask with a smile. Our empty dinner plates are long forgotten.

  “Only backup,” he shakes his head, chuckling. I think he’s embarrassed but I refuse to stop my interrogation, I’m learning so much!

  “Do you guys play in public?” I ask.

  “Sometimes,” he smiles, but offers no further information. Oh, this is so frustrating!

  “Like where?” I ask with an exasperated grin.

  He laughs at me again. Then he sighs and says, “Tank, a cop buddy of mine … he bought this bar downtown after he retired about five years ago. It’s called The Slammer. Well, since he took it over, most of the patrons that go there are also on the job so, it’s kinda become known as a ‘cop bar.’ Anyway, on Saturday nights they used to have an open mic night. And one night, me and the guys decided to get up and do our thing.” He shrugs again and continues, “Next thing we knew, Tank was asking us to play a couple Saturdays a month. So … every other Saturday night, that’s usually where you’ll find me. It’s great for Tank ’cause the place is usually packed on those nights. People like live music. Even if it sucks,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.

  “Wow,” I say, clearly impressed. “You actually have a paying gig?”

  He laughs again and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. Tank tried to pay us at first but, we just kept throwing the cash back into his tip jar. Now he just pays us in drinks. We do it for the fun of it,” he shrugs. “We’ve played other functions though where we were compensated. D.A.R.E. Programs and high school dances, that sort of thing.”

  “What’s the band called?”

  “Off Duty Blue,” he answers quietly, and I catch a small hint of aplomb in his voice. He’s obviously proud of this.

  “So, what sort of music do play on the acoustic?”

  He shrugs yet again, and now I can tell he is just being modest about his playing. “Whatever,” he says quietly, “rock, Spanish, classical … anything really. Just depends on my mood.”

  He sounds more confident now and I think his earlier hesitation was modesty. I am still shocked at this news and I can’t help hoping that I get the chance to hear him play sometime. This is the most information he’s ever divulged abou
t himself and I sort of don’t know where to put it all. My mind is reeling a little bit. But since he finally seems to be in a talking mood, I wonder if I can get a little more personal. I take a deep breath and go for broke.

  “I’m really impressed,” I say softly. He smiles at me and shakes his head slightly, saying nothing. Now is my chance. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  He fixes me with his bright blue eyes. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” He smiles and I bite my lower lip, blushing slightly. “Sure,” he says still smiling.

  “Last night when you told me that you were only interested in one-night stands,” I begin softly. “Can I ask why exactly? Why you’ve never wanted a relationship?”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish they hadn’t. I watch as the shutters come slamming down, his bright blue eyes clouding over like the darkest night. He morphs before my very eyes, his whole body tenses up and his fists clench, his jaw tightens. Holy shit. What did I say? He is looking at me but, I’m not sure he’s actually seeing me. He seems lost in some deep inner turmoil that I have no access to. He says nothing for the longest time and I get the feeling he is trying to control his emotions, almost as if he’s counting to ten. Or maybe a hundred. Shit. What have I done? I have to make this stop.

  “Um … I’m … I’m sorry,” I stammer. “You don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to. I was just … curious. I’m really sorry.” Could my voice get any smaller?

  I don’t understand; what did I say that was so wrong? Why is he so upset? Shit. Shit. Shit! Things were going so well. We were having such a nice conversation. What happened? Way to go, Samantha! He still hasn’t said a word and now he won’t even look at me. Oh, what is he thinking? Is he angry with me? Have I messed this all up? Silently, I stand up and begin clearing our places.

  “I have some fresh strawberries and cream for dessert if you’d like,” I say dejectedly. I take the plates over to the sink and discard the scraps into the trash, mentally kicking myself as I do. Then I turn on the water to rinse them off before placing them and the flatware in the dishwasher.