Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

  “There’s that look,” Conner says as he takes a seat at his desk across from me.

  “What look?”

  “That scary, intense scowl you get whenever your mind is trying to fit all the little puzzle pieces together. What you working out, Guy?”

  I shake my head at him, feeling the disgusted sneer cross my lips. “Just thinking about the contents of that box and the meaning of the note,” I tell him quietly, still mulling things over in my head.

  “You have a working theory about our mystery dick,” he says pointedly, smiling slightly at his play on words, and it’s more of a statement than a question. Dave Conner knows me well.

  I shrug slightly. “You know, I couldn’t figure it out at first. Attack, then stalk. It makes no sense.”

  He nods his head at me. “But now, you think it does?”

  “It’s the game,” I shrug again. “Doesn’t have to make sense to me; I didn’t make up the rules. He did. But yeah … now I think I understand how it’s played.” Dave raises his eyebrows at me in a ‘do tell’ kind of way, so I continue. “The initial attack … that’s just foreplay. His version of ‘what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this,’ or some other cheesy come-on line. It’s his opening, his first date. First kiss. But it’s the stalking that gets him off, the thrill of the chase. The hunt is the real game. This is the courtship to him!”

  “He’s the stuffed cat with the big red heart and the raging hard on, and she’s the mouse,” Dave says with another nod of his head.

  “Yeah. The dead mouse.” My voice is small and flat as I feel a heavy sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.

  “You think he meant that literally?” Dave asks.

  “Everything else was put into that box for a reason so, yeah. I guess I do. And he’s getting bolder, coming right up to her door like that. He knows where to get to her, Dave.”

  “Yeah, but he also knows that you’re there, remember? You really think he’d be bold enough to come at you head on?”

  “If he really is watching her like he implied in that phone call the other night, then he knew perfectly well that I was in that apartment this morning when he dropped that box off,” I respond, glancing around to make sure no one else is listening. “I think this guy’s bold enough to try just about anything. And it’s escalating.”

  “If that’s true,” Conner says quietly, “then you might want to get your girl to step up the private security for herself. Or find a way to never leave her side.”

  I nod silently at his words. “I’m not sure how much more of this Samantha can take, Dave. The last two days she barely eats. She hasn’t slept worth shit. I’m worried about her frame of mind.”

  “We both know the stats on stalking victims, man,” he says sympathetically. “The extreme stress and sleep deprivation … it’s part of the territory.”

  “I know. I just hate to see her going through it,” I mumble.

  “There’s that look again,” Dave says after a moment of silence, and I smirk at him, shaking my head.

  “I’m just wondering if maybe we should look again at the people around Sam,” I tell him.

  “We already looked at her family and coworkers thoroughly, Guy…”

  “And they all checked out, I know,” I sigh. “I know that I’m grasping at straws, Dave. I’m just really frustrated, that’s all.”

  “Well maybe we’ll get lucky and forensics will give us something we can use.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But something tells me our guy is too smart for that,” I say thoughtfully. “He wants to enjoy his game. He’s not going to end it early by doing something stupid like leaving a trail. And I’m thinking that this is not the first time he’s played this particular game either. He seems to have perfected it so, Samantha can’t be his first.”

  “You think he’s done this before?”

  “I do. Maybe just not here in Seattle.”

  “Well, let’s put it into the system and see if we get any hits.”

  We spend some time then putting the details of Sam’s assault and stalking into the national database. Our hope is that some other law enforcement agency across the country will have a similar crime on the books, and maybe even the name of a suspect to look into. It might sound like a long shot but, sometimes it pans out. Only problem is it usually takes about 48 -72 hours.

  The rest of my day passes by in a fog. I am so preoccupied with thoughts of Samantha and wondering how she’s doing that I can barely concentrate on anything else. At lunchtime I think about calling, just to check up on her. But the vibe between us when I dropped her off this morning was so weird and strained. I wasn’t sure if she was just upset at the situation or if she was truly pissed at me for acting like a cop this morning instead of like a … a what? Boyfriend? I roll my eyes at that thought and push the label away. I don’t have time to wonder about what Sam and I are to each other. In any case, I’m almost afraid to find out whether she still wants me around or not. But as I head outside to get some air, I bite the bullet and pull out my phone and dial.

  It rings four times before finally going to voice mail, and I am taken aback by the perceived rejection. I don’t leave a message. But I stare blankly at my phone for several minutes, trying to decide if I should text her or not. Maybe she’s just busy with work, Pierce. Yeah. Or maybe she ignored my call on purpose. I stuff my phone back into my pocket and head back inside the building.

  *****

  At four o’clock sharp, I pull my truck into the museum parking lot feeling the strange but now familiar sensation of butterflies in my stomach. Why does this woman make me so nervous sometimes? I swallow anxiously when I see Martin leading her through the museum doors and out to my truck. She says nothing to me as she climbs in and glances at me only briefly.

  “Thank you, Martin,” she smiles slightly. And I notice that she looks tired.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Colby,” he responds. “I’ll see you in the morning. Detective,” he nods in my direction and I return the gesture. He closes the door as Sam secures her seat belt and we get underway. I take a deep breath and test the waters.

  “How was your day?”

  “It was okay,” Sam says softly. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  I swallow nervously once more. “I tried calling you at lunchtime … to see how you were doing.” My voice is small and slightly hesitant, and Samantha glances over at me.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I saw that I had missed your call. I had sort of a working lunch with the other docents and our supervisor. A meeting about the new exhibits that are coming to the museum over the next several months. It ended up running two hours long,” she says apologetically. I look over at her and she’s eyeing me speculatively, and I get the feeling that she’s just as anxious as I am right now. “How was your day?” she asks softly.

  “My day was frustrating,” I tell her honestly. “Forensics found no prints on your little box of horrors. Not even on the note. They are still trying to trace the stuffed toy and the ribbon it was tied with though but, I’m not holding my breath.”

  Sam looks crestfallen at this news and she turns away, fixing her troubled gaze on the passing scenery outside the window. I reach over and take her hand in mine, bringing it to my lips, and lightly kiss her knuckles. And when I glance over at her this time, I see her wipe a few tears from her pretty cheeks. We’re silent the rest of the ride to her apartment, and as I do my walk-through of her place I can’t help but worry about her. I hate it that I have to leave her here alone for two more hours before my shift ends.

  I finish checking out her place and find Sam in the kitchen, pouring herself a small glass of wine. She takes a sip and I can see the stress written all over her.

  “What did you eat for lunch during your meeting, Sam?”

  “What?”

  I hesitate a beat and my gaze drops from her eyes to the glass in her hands. “You didn’t eat your breakfast this morning,” I say quietly. “You really shouldn’t drink on an emp
ty stomach so … I’m just wondering if you’ve eaten anything today.”

  She stares blankly at me, batting her big green eyes. “After everything that’s happened today, I’m not allowed to take a drink?” she asks, looking at me in disbelief, and I frown at her.

  “No. Of course you’re allowed to take a drink, baby. I just want you to be careful. I’m worried about you, Sam,” I tell her softly as I step toward her, taking the glass from her hand and setting it on the counter behind her. Then I gently pull her into my arms and hold her close. Her arms circle around me and she starts to cry softly, prompting me to tighten my hold on her, and I lightly kiss the top of her head. I’m not really sure how long we stand this way, but I hold her for several minutes while she cries into my chest. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise you … it’s all going to be okay.”

  I pull away and wipe the dampness from her cheeks, and then glance down at my watch. I know that I have to get going, but I can’t leave her like this. “Sam…”

  “I’m okay,” she says softly, looking up at me. “I know you have to go. I’ll be fine.”

  “You know, baby, it might be a good idea to call Martin. I know you don’t want him lurking around the apartment but, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to stand watch outside your door.”

  “No! I don’t want that!”

  “Samantha … ”

  “No, Josh,” she says loudly, and the tears spring forth once more. “Please. I don’t want to feel like a prisoner in my own home. Please!”

  “Fine,” I sigh disgustedly, raising my hands in surrender and then running both of them through my hair in frustration. So much for getting her to step up the security for herself. I take a deep breath and lean down to lightly kiss her forehead. Then I reach out and caress her face, wiping her tears away in the process. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Lock the door behind me.”

  *****

  Two hours later, I climb out of my truck and swing the strap of my gym bag over my shoulder. Then I take the small pastry box from the passenger seat and head inside Samantha’s building. As I stand waiting for the elevator my mind replays the events of the day and I feel tired. I can only imagine how Sam must feel right about now. I haven’t spoken to her since I dropped her off after work and I have no idea what to expect. When I left she was still in tears, and it just about killed me to leave her that way. I take a deep breath as I stand outside her door and ring the bell. And when it opens, I involuntarily hold my breath until I see her smile at me.

  “Hi,” she says softly, stepping into my arms.

  “Hi.” I lightly kiss the top of her head, inhaling deeply the scent of her hair as I do. We stand this way for a several seconds as I hold her. Then she looks up at me, and her bright green eyes seem full of some emotion that I can’t place. It takes me by surprise and I’m suddenly more than a little anxious.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” she whispers, and I kiss her forehead. “What’s in the box?”

  “Oh,” I mumble, looking down at the small pastry box in my hand. “Well, I’m not sure what your dinner plans are for tonight but, I stopped and got some cannoli from the bakery down the street.” Sam says nothing as she stares up at me. “You like cannoli?” I ask her with a small smile, and she grins at me.

  “Yes. I do,” she says softly. “But I’m afraid I didn’t have the energy to make anything fancy for dinner. Just threw together an antipasto platter. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Antipasto sounds great to me, baby,” I shrug. “Especially if you’ve got some salami and some marinated red bell peppers.”

  “I do. I also have prosciutto and some mozzarella. Marinated mushrooms and olives and…”

  “Mmm, you’re making my mouth water,” I smile, leaning down to kiss her gently on the lips.

  “Josh,” Sam says softly, her big green eyes growing worried all of a sudden. “Um … I … I’m sorry. About today. About earlier … I was just so … scared and…”

  “Hey,” I whisper, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close to me. “Sam, let’s not talk about your case tonight, all right? Let’s just concentrate on being together and having a nice dinner. Maybe we can end this day a little better than we began it, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispers, looking up at me. I kiss her deeply then, holding her close to me for a long moment as our tongues slowly stroke one another’s, and for the first time since I was woken by her terrified screams this morning, I think we both begin to relax a little.

  Chapter Four

  Samantha

  When my eyes flutter open, the first thing I see is Josh’s incredibly handsome face looking down at me. He’s been watching me sleep again. He is propped up on his left elbow, his head resting on his fist, and his other arm is wrapped snugly around my waist. He looks deep into my eyes and smiles at me, and I blink self-consciously.

  “Hi, Sunshine,” he says quietly. Then he leans down and lightly kisses my forehead.

  “Why do you call me that?” I ask softly as I snuggle closer to him. He says nothing but looks at me with the strangest expression. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was a little embarrassed. He gives me a small smile that tells me he’s got a secret, and I watch as the secret smile suddenly morphs into that heartbreaking shy smile of his that I love. Oh, boy! Could he be any more adorable than he already is? I giggle softly at his reaction. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Maybe someday,” he says quietly, still smiling at me.

  “That’s not fair,” I whisper, running my hand lightly over his arm.

  He chuckles softly. “All’s fair in love and nicknames,” he mutters quietly, and I stop breathing. Did he just say ‘love’? I ignore my subconscious because I’m certain she must have heard him wrong. But judging by the sudden shocked expression on his face and the obvious fear and panic I see in his eyes, I think maybe we both heard him clearly. “Um … I … I didn’t…,”

  He stammers awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable and at a loss of how to clean this up, and I am sure that his heart must be pounding at least as hard as mine is right now. I have to put us both out of our misery.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, cutting him off nervously but, trying not to sound nervous at all. “Because I think I feel like blueberry pancakes this morning.”

  He looks at me strangely for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what I’m saying. Then he blinks and he nods slightly. “Blueberry pancakes sound good,” he says softly, skillfully avoiding my eyes.

  This is silly. I know that what he said was just a figure of speech and that he didn’t mean to imply that he actually loves me. Did he? My subconscious whispers to me but, it is so much safer not to entertain that thought right now. I don’t want this to cause any more awkwardness between us. Except for the creepy events of yesterday, and the subsequent tension it put on us and our relationship, things have been going so well. I desperately want to bring back the easy comfortableness from a few moments ago. Reaching up, I lightly caress his face, feeling his stubble beneath the palm of my hand, and his eyes find mine. He looks uncertain and anxious. I don’t want him to feel that way. I kiss him softly, my lips playing gently with his for a moment. And then suddenly, he is kissing me deeply, and all the awkwardness seems to fade away as our tongues slow dance together. He pulls me closer to him and we are lost in our intimate embrace, kissing slowly and passionately, drowning in one another like we did last night, pouring all of our pent up frustrations of the day into our lovemaking.

  My fingers tangle in his wavy hair as I hold his mouth to mine and I feel his hands running over my skin. The alarm clock blares loudly, startling us both and breaking the spell of enchantment we were adrift in. He reaches over and switches it off in obvious aggravation and I can’t help but giggle at his annoyed expression. He smiles at my laughter. “You find this interruption amusing, Miss Colby?” His voice is gruff and all business, as if he’s questioning me in some official police capacity, and it makes me giggle
even more. He joins in on my laughter then with his own, and it’s warm and deep and heartening, and he tightens his hold around me and kisses my temple. This is bliss.

  “We should get moving,” he says with a sigh. “What do you say we have a better day today than yesterday, hmm?”

  “Yes, please,” I whisper, and he smiles. He kisses me swiftly and gets up, heading toward the bathroom. But he stops short and looks down at my sketchbook sitting in the chair. He picks it up, studying it with a puzzled expression and looks back at me. His questioning gaze makes me nervous, and I bite my lower lip reflexively. Is he going to be angry?

  “What is this?” he asks with a frown, and I can’t tell if he’s upset or not.

  “I … I couldn’t sleep and I got up to get a drink of water last night,” I tell him timidly. “When I came back to the bedroom you were sleeping so peacefully and you looked so … perfect. I’m sorry,” I finish quietly.

  “You’re sorry?” His voice sounds incredulous and he’s looking at me with big blue eyes full of … astonishment, and my heart begins to sink. Oh, no.

  “Samantha … why are you apologizing? This is really, really good!”

  I can’t believe his words and when I look up at him, he is staring at the sketchbook again in wonder. “You drew this while I was sleeping?” he asks, still staring at the image in his hands, and he seems to be fascinated with it.

  “Yes,” I say softly, still unsure of his reaction.

  “Wow,” he whispers. Then he moves back over to the bed and sits beside me. “Sam, I don’t know what to say. You are so talented,” he says, looking up at me. And his smile finally makes me relax.