Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

D eclan managed to get Piper home without making an ass of himself.

He didn't tell her she was getting under his skin.

He didn't invite himself to sleep in her bed to keep her safe.

He didn't even kiss her good night.

He congratulated her on April, promised to be at Maddie's flower store at eleven, and hauled his sore knee over to his house to take Angel for a walk.

But all the dog kisses didn't get Piper out of his mind. So, as soon as Angel was on the couch and napping, Declan surrendered to his old cop instincts, and he got involved.

It took him about thirty seconds to find a long list of articles on Piper's wedding, and her ex-fiancé.

Clark Houston was the president of Gold Leader Investments, a successful investment firm his dad had founded. New generation wealth, and a lot of it.

There were plenty of photos of Piper, smiling into the camera, leaning on the arm of her fiancé. Piper's engagement photo: stylish, beautiful, and fitting in with the most elite. Her smile was electric, and she had a vibrancy that transcended the camera lens.

He leaned in, studying the photo closely, looking for some indication that she wasn't happy in that photo, but he couldn't see it. He'd lay bets that on the day that photo was taken, Piper was in love with her fiancé and believed all was well.

And yes, the idea of her being in love with Clark prickled him a little bit, which he decided to ignore.

Their engagement had happened quickly, and the wedding had been scheduled fast. Clark moved swiftly, which made Declan think that he'd tried to reel her in before she had time to think about what she was doing.

The wedding.

Every article reported that she'd walked out mid-ceremony, leaving everyone stunned.

Clark and his family had lambasted her in the press, doing interview after interview, shredding her reputation, her morals, and her values. They claimed she'd never meant to marry Clark, saying that she'd become engaged to him solely to help her career, to use his family's name and prestige for her own benefit.

The press had shredded her…but as far as Declan could find, Piper had never uttered even one word in her defense, no explanation, nothing.

She simply let Clark and his family try to ruin her.

Declan sat back, considering that. Piper was strong, bold, and resilient. Why wouldn't she have defended herself, especially when her dream was at stake?

It didn't make sense…which meant he didn't have all the information.

But the same need to protect arose the more Declan read. No one had protected Piper.

Until now.

She had him now, and he was born to be a protector.

Declan clasped his hands on his head, thinking.

It didn't take a cop to realize something was very off about what had happened.

Blackmail? Had Clark's family bought her off? Or maybe Piper had simply changed her mind and had no "acceptable" reason that the press would deem worthy? Maybe she'd decided to rise above the crap and not engage.

Or maybe something else.

Declan scrolled back through some photos of Piper and Clark together, checking body language and eye contact between them. In all the photos, they'd been leaning in toward each other, touching, smiling, looking happy and relaxed. He couldn't see any tension between them, anything to indicate that things weren't going well, or that Clark was coercing or threatening Piper in some way.

Maybe she had simply left. No drama. No big story to tell. She just hadn't loved him, and she'd been willing to risk her career to follow her heart.

He drummed his fingers on his desk, thinking.

But what if he was wrong? What if there was something else at play? If Piper was going to insert herself back into those circles, he needed to know if she was going to stir up something that would endanger her.

He picked up his phone and opened it. He scrolled to a name he hadn't reached out to in five years. Ryan Bradford. Declan's thumb swayed over the name, but he didn't press it. Did he really want to open that door again?

Hell, no. He didn't.

He looked again at the paparazzi picture of Piper fleeing out the side door of the church again. No one had protected her. No one had defended her.

Not that she necessarily needed it, but she deserved it.

It had been a long time since Declan had had a cause. A person who made him want to get off his dark bench and engage on their behalf. But Piper did.

He hit the send button and put the phone on speaker.

Ryan answered after several rings. "Declan?" He was clearly stunned.

Declan's body kicked into sudden alertness at the voice he hadn't heard in so long. "Yeah, it's me." He hadn't expected such a strong reaction to the sound of Ryan's voice. Ryan was a former cop who'd consulted with Declan on many investigations. He'd been there the night everything had gone to shit.

"Damn, it's good to hear from you," Ryan said. "What's going on? You back?"

The idea of going back to being a cop made Declan recoil, but he nodded. He had to do it. "Soon."

Ryan let out a whoop. "Hell, yeah. About damned time. So glad to hear that. What's going on?"

"I need a favor."

"Anything. Name it."

"I need you to run a name for me."

"What's the name?"

"Clark Houston. He's the president of Gold Leader Investments."

"Got it. Why?"

"A hunch."

"Still have hunches? Your instincts were always the best I ever saw. I'll run it as soon as I'm back at the office." Ryan paused. "What have you been doing? You vanished."

Declan shrugged. "Rebuilding a house I bought. Doing some bartending."

"Bartending? Seriously? Where?"

"A place near my house. A neighborhood joint. I owed a favor to the owner to help out a couple times, and I kept going back."

"You were going to be the best the department ever had," Ryan said. "Everyone had you tagged as the next great?—"

"I know. Things change." He cleared his throat. "I gotta go make some other calls."

"Wait. Let's meet for a drink."

Declan felt his body tighten. "No."

"It's been years, Declan," Ryan said. "Time to stop running."

"I'm not running."

"Then what are you doing? Living?"

"I gotta go. Text me when you have info. And thanks." Declan hung up before Ryan could protest, then shoved his chair back and got up, pacing away from the desk. He felt restless and edgy. Just that brief conversation had brought his past back full force. Hearing Ryan's voice had been…jarring.

Ryan had been there that night. Talking to Ryan made the night come back. The humid heat. The starless sky. The whisper that split second before all hell had broken loose. The guns. The bullets.

His wife's face the moment she'd been hit.

The raw terror that had hit him when she'd grabbed her neck, and he'd realized that the bullet had missed her vest. The roar ripping from his throat as he'd run to her.

He didn't remember getting hit in the leg by the bullet that had taken him down when he'd broken cover to get to her, but the scar still reminded him of that night, of that aching loss that never left him, no matter how much time went by.

He braced his hands on the couch, sweat beading on his shoulders as he fought off the sounds of gunfire. Of shouts. Of that gasp, that last gasp that Diana had managed before she'd died?—

Of Piper. Who had been shot twice. Twice.

Fuck.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't fake an engagement. Not with Piper. Not with anyone.

He was calling it off.

It was over before it was even going to begin.