After Charles Sandoval’s disappearance, their case against both him and Pasquino had stumbled to a halt. Rumor had it that Pasquino had sent the assassin after Sandoval and rumor also had it that Sandoval was dead. Brody and Ian had agreed it would have been difficult, if not impossible for Charles to have survived what looked to have been massive blood loss, but his good friend, Doc Sorensen, was a highly skilled surgeon and if anyone could have pulled him through, it would have been Doc. Not only did he have the medical skills and access to a private clinic, he and Charles were as close as only two people could be who had fifty years of friendship behind them.
Brody, Ian and their superiors found themselves frustrated at the turn of events, especially since they didn’t have enough evidence that Charles was money laundering for Pasquino, and therefore no way to justify spending the time and money trying to find him, and it was decided to try once again to infiltrate Pasquino’s lair, something that had failed in the past. But their efforts had finally paid off, and six months ago another operative had managed to get hired on with the drug lord. Ian and Brody had been assigned other cases in the meantime and Piper had been all but forgotten by everyone but them. In those first few months after Brody had discovered her whereabouts, their office, including Brody had kept tabs on her by contacting Gary Norton, the county sheriff, to enlist his help in watching to see if Charles got in touch with her in any way. A year later, his boss said she was a dead end, but Brody wasn’t willing to abandon her completely given her connection to Charles and the chance that the assassin didn’t complete her contract, that her adoptive father still lived.
Brody had kept in touch with Gary
, which was why Gary had called him personally with the news that Piper’s friend and business partner, Haley Parsons, had reported her missing after she didn’t show for a planned meet and she couldn’t reach her by phone. The sheriff had driven out to her isolated home and found no sign of foul play, but also no sign of Piper. Enlisting Ian’s help, they had left Virginia immediately.
The cabin was eerily silent as they got out of his car, the surrounding woods rustled with the soft sound of leaves waving in the breeze, the scamper of squirrels and the musical melody of birds. The muted echo of waves rolling onto the shore from Lake Table Rock could be heard but not seen indicating it was a short walk away.
“Somehow, I didn’t picture her as the outdoorsy type,” Ian remarked as they walked up the gravel path and stepped onto the front porch. Flower boxes lined the rail, the brightly colored annuals looking well-tended.
Brody too was having trouble imagining the young girl who he remembered as being soft both inside and out with the rugged surroundings, trouble picturing her behind the wheel of the four-wheel drive Wrangler or tending the large garden on the side of the house. The door was unlocked, and even though the sheriff told them it would be since that was the way he found it and he didn’t have a key, both men pulled their guns and entered cautiously.
“Piper,” Brody called out loud enough to be heard down the hall and up to the loft, but only silence greeted him. With one sweeping glance they could see the great room, dining area and kitchen were empty. The casual, lived in look surprised Brody as he remembered her small apartment as being meticulously clean, not a thing out of place. Here, in these rooms, magazines and books were strewn on the low round coffee table, brightly colored pillows in a mishmash of patterns and sizes were tossed haphazardly on the cream leather sofa and two matching recliners, a pair of flip flops lay under the dining table that was covered with sketches of women’s lingerie, a pair of gym shorts were draped on a chair and dishes, both clean and dirty cluttered brick red stone countertops as if she didn’t have time or simply didn’t care to put them away or in the dishwasher.
Picking up a sketch, Ian let out a low whistle. “I wouldn’t mind seeing this number in red satin on a certain brunette. Wonder what she does with the drawings.”
“I wonder where the hell she is. Let’s check down the hall before we go upstairs.” Brody led the way, both of them still being cautious even though it didn’t look like there was anyone there. The first door on the left was a bathroom, the second door answered the question about the sketches. Grinning, Brody fingered the white lace teddy displayed on one of three torsos. “I’d rather see this on Piper,” he said before taking in the chaos of the rest of the room. Material of every shade and texture lay strewn or piled, two sewing machines sat in front of a wide window overlooking a well-tended small lawn and the woods beyond and shipping boxes, some packaged and sealed and others empty were stacked along one wall. A desk and computer sat in the great room and he wondered if she did a mail order business.
“No offense to you or the girl, but I don’t remember her being the type to wear something like that.” Ian’s memory was vague and his acquaintance with Piper after Sandoval’s shooting had been brief and tense, but he did recall an attractive face dominated by expressive, black lashed green eyes and a short, decidedly round body.
To counter Ian’s remark, Brody would have to reveal he had intimate knowledge of Piper’s lush body, and while he was well aware some men wouldn’t find her sexy dressed in the teddy, he sure as hell would. Of course the soft spot he had developed for her might have something to do with his opinion. “Let’s finish this and start looking for clues outside.”
The last room was a guest bedroom so they returned to the great room and were headed to the stairs when a soft, distressed moan carried down from the loft. Heart in his throat, Brody raced up with Ian on his heels. The upper level was an open loft and they spotted the bed against the far wall and the body in it as soon as they reached the top.
“Piper?” Brody moved cautiously towards the bed, his eyes on the small figure buried under a light blue sheet. The only part of her visible was one slender, well-toned leg and the back of her black, curly haired head. The closer he got, the more he thought the woman in the bed couldn’t be Piper. Even though most of her was covered, the light cotton sheet couldn’t disguise the small, slender body under it, a body that couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. As another moan escaped the woman in the bed and she restlessly turned over, the sheet slipped down to her waist and both men gaped at the lush sight of full breasts that looked sexy as hell encased in plain white cotton. Make that a hundred and five, Brody thought as his gaze moved up to stare in surprise at the face of the only woman he hadn’t been able to put out of his mind after sex.
Piper’s body was on fire, her nipples pulsed achingly, her pussy felt swollen and so empty, the need to be filled, stroked, fucked over and over a throbbing litany encompassing her whole body. She had dreams before where she awoke aroused, aching to be fucked, but nothing like this, and never had she been unable to wake when her arousal was beating so strongly. Deep male voices caught her attention, momentarily diverting her misery away from the pain of unfulfilled lust. She struggled to open her eyes even as one hand cupped her pussy in an attempt to ease the ache. Concerned grey eyes looked down at her out of a face she had dreamed of often.
“I should’ve known you’d show up,” she muttered. Didn’t he always put in an appearance in her dreams and then leave her aroused and unsated? “Damn it, not this time, Brody. This time I hurt too bad.”
Brody grabbed Piper’s hands as she reached for him, the way her green irises were almost completely covered by the dilation of her black pupils giving him cause to worry. “Piper, darlin’, wake up.” He tried giving her a small shake, but she managed to pull her right hand free of his grip and hastily cupped her palm between her legs again, her struggles having dislodged the sheet completely, leaving her slim body clad in nothing but a plain white bra and panties bare to them.
“Damn, you, Brody,” Piper swore in frustration. “You’re supposed to want me in my dreams. Quit being difficult and fuck me already.”
“She’s out of it,” Ian stated quietly from where he stood on the other side of the bed.
“No shit. The girl I remember never would have done drugs, but it’s obvious she’s on something.”
“I don’t think it’s drugs, though,” Ian said when Piper slipped her hand inside her panties with a whimper, her hips thrusting up against her palm.
Brody wanted to pull her to him, force her to wake up and explain what was going on, but by the desperate way she was touching herself, the stiffness of her nipples that was glaringly obvious even through her bra, as was the dampness of her panties and the glazed, unfocused look in her eyes, she was in the throes of a powerful aphrodisiac.
“What the hell’s going on?” Brody asked Ian roughly as both men tried to keep their own lust under control. Despite the shock of finding her here and in such a state, Brody was struggling with the physical changes five years had made. The soft roundness of her thighs and waist was gone, replaced with well-toned muscles, making her legs look longer than possible for her five foot three height and her waist small enough he was tempted to see if he could span it with his hands. In contrast, her breasts were full, definitely soft and right now, her nipples were threatening to bore holes through her bra they were so stiff.
“The sheriff said he checked here twice yesterday and there was no sign of her, and once again this morning,” Ian said. “She had to have returned in the last five hours.”
“Or was returned.”
“Brody, please,” Piper begged. She couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t touching her, why he wasn’t relieving this painful arousal she was sure he was responsible for. In every other dream she had where he was involved, he always wanted her as much as she did him, always gave her everything she wanted, everything she had craved for the past five years. “Why aren’t you helping me?”
“You’re going to have to do something.”
Brody glared at Ian across the bed. “I am not fucking a woman who doesn’t know what she’s doing,” he stated harshly despite the raging hard on pressing painfully against his zipper.
“Then don’t, but give her some relief so she can sleep the rest off.” Ian strode from the loft, his own cock demanding a release he too refused to give in to under the circumstances.
He was right, Brody thought with no pleasure. Piper was suffering, the effects of whatever she had been given more painful than pleasurable at this point and he couldn’t let her suffer for who knew how long until it wore off.