Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Why would I be angry?” he asks me, and I shrug. “What? You think because you’ve captured a very private moment of me lying here sleeping, completely nude … full frontal view…,” he’s still smiling. Is he teasing me? “Maybe that would make me angry?”

  I silently shrug again, a small bashful smile on my lips. “Maybe,” I murmur.

  He gives me his mega-watt, movie star smile. “No, baby,” he says softly, “I’m not angry.” He hands the sketchbook to me and stands up again. “I like it,” he says, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. He turns then and heads toward the bathroom. “You know,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away, “you really should think about taking your friend up on her offer to show your sketches at her gallery. You’re very good, Sam.” He enters the bathroom then and a second later I hear the shower turn on.

  I look down at the sketch I’ve drawn of his sleeping form. He looks so relaxed and so virile – right arm raised above his head, left leg bent slightly, his left hand resting on his abdomen while his impressive manhood rests on his inner thigh. He is so sexy and I’m proud of myself for capturing the erotic allure of Joshua Pierce. I can’t believe he actually said that he likes the sketch. The thought makes me smile. He also said you were talented and should consider taking Lola up on her offer. A small frisson of fear runs through me at that thought, and I roll my eyes at myself.

  Setting the sketchbook aside, I get up and find my jade green silk robe and pull it on. Those blueberry pancakes aren’t going to make themselves. I head out to the kitchen and take my birth control pill, then I get to work making batter and coffee, my mind trying not to think about yesterday morning and the ‘box of horrors’ as Josh called it. And I know this is crazy … but I can’t help wondering what my stalker is doing right this very minute. Is he dreaming up some new way to torture me right now?

  By the time I’ve got breakfast all plated up, Josh comes striding in looking all fresh-faced and yummy in a navy blue dress shirt and a nice pair of jeans. He finds me at the stove and he wraps his arms around me and kisses my temple, then he takes the plates from my hands and carries them over to the breakfast bar.

  “Hey, Josh?” I ask nervously as we sit down to eat.

  “Yes, baby?” I smile to myself as I watch him pour syrup on his pancakes. I really do love it when he calls me that. He hands me the syrup container and looks at me questioningly.

  “Did you mean what you said earlier?” I ask him haltingly. “About me taking Lola up on her offer?”

  He looks at me for a beat and then says, “About your sketches? Yes. Samantha, you are a very talented artist. Sketching and painting is what you love to do; you shouldn’t be afraid to share that.”

  I watch as he takes a mouthful of pancake and decide to ask the question that’s really on my mind. Taking a deep breath I ask, “If I did do it … how would you feel if I put a few sketches of you in a showing?”

  His fork stops in midair as he freezes. He blinks at my words and lowers his fork back down to his plate and turns to look at me. “Sketches of me? Naked. On display … for the world to see?”

  I swallow a bite of bacon and nod at him. He looks as if my question has caught him by complete surprise, and I can see his mind working.

  “Samantha, please don’t misunderstand me here,” he begins, and he seems concerned. About hurting my feelings maybe? “I think your sketches are amazing. But you can’t use the sketches of me in any art show.”

  I can feel my face falling; I’m so disappointed at his words. “Why not?”

  “Because, baby,” he hesitates a little. “That would present a problem for me at work. I’m a police officer, Sam. Nude sketches of me would be just like … nude photos of me in some magazine.”

  “But it’s art, Josh” I protest, “not pornography.”

  “I know that it’s art, baby,” he says, trying to reason with me. “But to the Commissioner, and according to the state charter, it’s still ‘conduct unbecoming an officer.’ I could lose my job for something like that, Sam.”

  I am stunned. “Lose your job? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  I turn back to my breakfast and I’m silent for a long time. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Josh watching me as he eats his blueberry pancakes and bacon, and I sip my orange juice feeling bummed. He finishes his breakfast and stands to clear away his plate. I watch absentmindedly as he rinses it off and places it into the dishwasher. Then he turns and looks at me. I snap out of my haze and stand up, taking my plate of half eaten pancakes and putting the scraps into the trash before handing it over to him. He loads it into the dishwasher with his own and closes the door.

  As I turn to head to the bedroom to shower and dress, I feel his hand on my wrist, preventing me from fleeing. He gently pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me, and I stand in his embrace, staring up into his impossibly blue eyes as they seem to bore into mine. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly.

  “It’s okay,” I reply.

  “It’s not okay,” he answers. “You’re disappointed. I don’t like disappointing you,” he says, caressing my face.

  Oh?

  “The sketch you did of my backside?” he asks, and I nod at him. “That one, you could probably use.”

  “I could?” My voice sounds hopeful.

  “Yeah,” he nods at me. “You can’t really see my face in that one. It’s not even a full profile.”

  “That’s why I can’t use the one I sketched last night?” I ask. “Because your face is visible?”

  “That’s right.”

  I’m silent for a second as my mind begins to work this out. “So, a nude sketch is okay as long it doesn’t include your face?” I ask.

  Josh nods his head slightly from side to side and then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “So, if your head was facing the other way,” I reason out loud, “it would be okay, and I could include it?”

  “As long as I am not recognizable in any of the sketches,” he says. “That means no distinguishing scars or birthmarks. Or tattoos, if I had any. And yes … definitely not my face.”

  “Nothing distinguishing,” I repeat, trying to contain my growing excitement. “I promise.” He looks down at me with a smirk on his perfect lips and shakes his head slightly. “Does that mean you’ll pose for me some more?” I ask hopefully, and his smirk morphs into an indulgent smile and he rolls his eyes at me.

  “Yes, baby,” he sighs, giving in. “I will pose for you whenever you want me to.”

  I squeal with delight, throwing my arms around him and he hugs me tightly for a moment. “You need to get moving so we’re not late,” he says, and he gently swats my behind and releases me.

  “Thank you, Josh,” I say as I kiss his lips swiftly. I don’t wait for his response; I turn and dash off to the bedroom. I really do need to get moving.

  I brush my teeth before jumping into the shower and, as I’m putting my toothbrush away, my eyes light on Josh’s toothbrush resting in the holder on my sink. And my mind instantly drifts back to Wednesday night when he brought over Chinese for dinner and made me go to bed right after because I had barely slept the night before. We stood here and brushed our teeth together. His toothbrush has been here ever since and, I realize … so has Josh. In fact, Josh has been here at my place every night since that first night we slept together. The thought makes me smile as I turn and get into the shower.

  He told me that first night that he didn’t do relationships. That one-night stands were all he was ever interested in. And yet … here we are. Very much involved in a relationship. When he placed that toothbrush in the holder the other night, the look on his face was one of solid determination. He seemed so sure of his decision to be here with me. So determined to take care of me and put me to bed.

  I shower and dress quickly, thinking about the weekend now stretched before me which, barring any more creepy gifts or phone calls from my stalker, I may actual
ly get to enjoy seeing as how I have a brand new schedule to go along with my brand new job. And I wonder what Josh usually does with his free time since he doesn’t usually work weekends. Didn’t he mention his band playing every other Saturday? Hmm.

  Once I’m dressed, I pull my hair into a neat ponytail and put my black pearl stud earrings in. I apply some mascara and a little lip gloss and I’m ready to go. I don’t like rushing to get ready but, it’s worth it to be able to be able to spend a few more precious moments with Josh as he drives me to the museum. He has insisted on taking me to work for the past three days now, even though Martin would be perfectly within his job description escorting me to and from work. And it would be easier on Josh that way too, since normally, he needs to be at the station by eight o’clock. But he’s worked it out with his Lieutenant so that he’s approved to escort me safely to work at nine, getting to the police station over an hour late. And his captain told him that Lucas was very happy to hear that the police department had assigned someone to look after me each day. I roll my eyes slightly at that thought. Lucas is happy. Josh is happy. I am annoyed, frankly. All this fuss is getting very old, very quickly.

  Seated in Josh’s truck on the way to work, I think about the weekend once more. “Hey, Josh?” I begin quietly, and he turns to glance at me while he’s driving. “Is your band playing tomorrow?”

  My question appears to take him by surprise and he hesitates a beat. Then he gets an embarrassed grin and nods. “Yes,” he answers, turning back to the road. “Would you like to come listen?” he asks.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I say with a small giggle, and he laughs slightly and shakes his head.

  “Well, we’re going to have to get creative then,” he says, glancing over at me again.

  “What do you mean?” I ask with a puzzled frown.

  “Well, I can’t exactly take you in there on my arm, baby,” he says and looks over at me while we’re stopped at a red light. “At least, not yet. Not until we catch the asshole terrorizing you and your case is closed.” My frown grows deeper and he continues, “I told you, Sam … a lot of cops hang out at this bar. It is not unusual to see my lieutenant or my captain in this place. We can’t arrive together.”

  “Oh. I guess I didn’t quite realize what you meant by ‘cop bar.’” My voice is thoughtful as I ponder the situation. “It’s all right, I don’t have to come,” I say quietly.

  “No, Sam,” he begins, turning back to the road as the light turns green. “I didn’t mean to imply that you can’t come.” He reaches over and takes my hand as he continues. “Yes, it is a ‘cop bar’ in that, much of the clientele is on the job. But, it is open to the public; you are more than welcome to go there. We just can’t show up there together yet.”

  He pulls into the parking lot of the museum as my mind is mulling over his words. “So, if I just happen to drop by this bar downtown called The Slammer on Saturday night … then there might be a small chance that I could run into a few of Seattle’s finest, hanging out and blowing off some steam in their off-duty time?”

  He smiles that million dollar smile of his at me. “Yeah. There’s a good chance of that happening,” he says with a chuckle.

  I smile back at him and, out of the corner of my eye, I see Martin heading toward us, ready to escort me inside the building and stand guard over me all day.

  “We’ll talk more about it tonight,” he says, tucking an escaped tendril of my hair behind my ear as he leans over and kisses me tenderly.

  “Okay,” I reply softly. “Be careful today, Josh.”

  “I’m always careful, baby. I’ll see you at four. You call me if you need me.” He kisses me again and, as I turn to open the truck door, he says, “Have a good day, Sunshine.”

  I look back at him and smile, remembering our conversation from this morning and his ‘all’s fair in love and nicknames’ comment. And he’s looking at me with that secret smile of his and I think he’s laughing at me. He is so adorable!

  “Have a good day, Josh.” I step out of the truck and greet Martin, and we head inside the building as Josh drives away.

  My morning goes by slowly as I sit in my fourth and final training lecture, and then later shadow Nicole Johnson again as she gives a tour of the museum to a group of disinterested pre-teens on a school field trip. It’s a challenge to get them to participate by answering her questions, or even asking questions of their own. But after some effort, Nicole soon has them laughing and interested in the works of art she’s showing them. She really is great at her job, and I hope that I can be as at ease with this position as she seems to be.

  At lunchtime, I sit at a table alone with a garden salad and pull out my phone. I have to talk to Megan and beg her to do me a huge favor.

  “Hey, Sam,” she says brightly when she answers the phone.

  “Meg. Hi, how are you?”

  “I’m good,” she replies. “Ready to pull my hair out over the seating chart for the reception but … good. You?”

  I laugh at her response. “Oh, Megan. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much to help you with the wedding plans.”

  “Are you kidding me,” she says blandly. “My mother and the damn wedding planner are like Nazis. I wouldn’t wish this torture on anyone. Save yourself, Sam. When you get married … elope!” I laugh again, loudly. Megan always keeps me in stitches. “You laugh, but I am so not kidding. If I had any guts at all, I would beg Scott to run away to Vegas with me.”

  “Well the madness will all be over soon,” I tell her, and she sighs heavily.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she says quietly. “So, what’s up? How are things with you and Detective Yummy?”

  “Josh is great,” I say, and I can feel myself smiling broadly. “Actually, that’s sort of why I’m calling. I was wondering if you’d be interested in going to a bar with me tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, fun,” she squeals. Hmm. Something else Megan and I have in common – the squealing. “Scott and I would love to meet you and Josh for a drink! We could go to Barca.”

  “Um, actually that’s not what I had in mind,” I say hesitantly.

  “Oh. What did you have in mind?” Meg asks, and I can hear the puzzlement in her voice.

  “I was thinking we could go to a bar downtown.”

  “Downtown?” Her puzzlement is joined by speculation and I think she’s questioning my sanity.

  “Yeah. There’s this bar called The Slammer and they have live music some Saturdays.” My words come out in a nervous rush, and Meg is quiet for a few seconds.

  “Okay, spill it, Sam,” she says in her no-nonsense voice. “What’s going on?”

  I take a deep breath and tell her everything then. All about Josh’s band and how I’d really love to hear them play, and about how our relationship could get him into trouble at work since my case is still ongoing. “And it’s not like the bar is in rough part of town,” I reason with her. “But even if it were, it’s full of a bunch of cops. How much safer could we get?”

  “So, basically,” she says, “what you’re asking me to do is help you and your yummy detective meet clandestinely, and quite brazenly, I might add … completely out in the open, among prying eyes?”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Basically, yes,” I confirm quietly.

  “Cool! I’m in,” she says brightly, and I smile.

  “I love you, Megan!”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m awesome,” she says, totally straight-faced, and I can’t help but laugh. We talk a few more minutes, finalizing plans for tomorrow night, and then hang up so that she can get back to her seating chart and I can eat my lunch and get back to work.

  Josh pulls into the museum parking lot at four o’clock sharp, and Martin ushers me out to the truck. I really am getting tired of all the fuss but, I don’t want a repeat of what happened on Tuesday with this creep watching me and following me either. And I certainly don’t want any more of his “gifts.” And I know that Martin sits outside my apartment bui
lding each evening. Lucas let that slip in conversation when we spoke on the phone yesterday. I get that he’s worried about me, and I appreciate it. I just wish that whoever this creep is would go away and let me live my life in peace, without fear. But then, if he had never assaulted me, I would never have met Joshua, who has been the best surprise I could have ever imagined. Life is bizarre sometimes.

  Josh tells me how his day is going as he drives me home, and I can sense his frustrations at still not having any leads in my case.

  “I just keep thinking that someone at one of the area tattoo parlors knows something,” he says, clearly irritated. “The problem is, different tat artist work at different times and days. So, Conner and I walk into some place on a Friday, we may or may not see the same people we spoke to on Wednesday. What we need is to run across that one person who has the information we need. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. So fucking irritating!”

  “I’m sorry, Josh,” I say quietly, and he looks over at me and his eyes soften.

  “No, I’m sorry, baby,” he sighs, taking my hand. “I don’t mean to lay all of this on you. I’m just so frustrated.”

  “I understand. Believe me … I think I’m just as frustrated as you are,” I mumble. “Frustrated and … scared.”

  “I know you are, Sam.” He squeezes my hand. “And that is what’s driving me. I want you to feel safe again, and I promise you, baby … I will do everything in my power to make that happen.” He is looking at me with such earnestness and I know that he truly means what he’s saying. Oh, Josh!

  He turns away and pulls slowly into the private parking lot of my apartment building. We are quiet on the ride up to my apartment on the elevator and Josh curls his arm around me and pulls me close to him. He kisses the top of my head.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go back to work,” I whisper as we head out of the elevator and to my door.

  “I know, me too. But it’s just a couple of hours,” he says softly, still holding me closely to his side. I unlock my door and we head inside. And, just as he has done for the past three days, Josh searches my entire apartment, even venturing upstairs to the studio, making sure that my place is secure. He really does want me to feel safe.