Page 55 of Wrecked
She’d touched his arm before she left, determined to make him listen to her. “Adam would have done the same thing. He wouldn’t have backed down, and if you’d stop blaming yourself for five minutes, you’d realize I’m right.”
The kicker was, she was right. Adam never would have backed off, would have done exactly what Cole had done, if he’d been in the driver’s seat. But truth or not, he’d messed up. He’d been reckless. He’d lost control of his emotions, had ignored his better judgment. Had taken his eyes off the road for just a split second. Now Adam was gone.
He didn’t know how to live with that, still hadn’t worked out how to get up every morning and look in the mirror without hating the man he saw.
He turned into West’s garage. The place was still open. He’d left work early since he’d accomplished nothing at the office. He wasn’t fit to be around people, so he decided to bring work home with him.
As he drove past the workshop, he looked through the office window. Alex was on the phone while Rusty was working under the hood of a gleaming red Cadillac out front.
And, of course, he couldn’t stop himself from scanning the place for Piper. He craved a glimpse of her, was starved for it. Then he spotted her. She was on the other side of the parking lot, sitting on the hood of a Miami PD patrol car.
What the fuck? He searched her features for signs of distress, but she looked relaxed, leaning back on her hands, boots resting on the front bumper. The cop talking to her was smiling, hip against the hood beside her. Too close.
Cole’s gut shriveled into a hard knot. Whatever was going on, it sure as hell didn’t look like official business. The guy was familiar. Then he remembered him. He’d been a year ahead of Piper in high school.
Right then Piper threw her head back, laughing at something the guy said, and Cole watched as the other man’s gaze swept over her appreciatively. She was wearing faded denim shorts that showed off her smooth thighs and the pink tank she often wore for work. It was a little stretched out but clung to her tits in a way that drew the eye right there. And Officer Sleaze was apparently having a hard time looking away.
Possessive anger welled up inside him.
The guy took a step closer, pulling something from his pocket—his card by the looks of it—and handed it to her. Piper brushed her hair back from her face and shielded her eyes from the late-afternoon sun, accepting it with a smile. Cole could actually see the guy suck in a breath when she aimed that beauty and warmth his way.
He’d never wanted to shoot someone more in his life.
Parking by the steps to his apartment, he shoved his door open and tried to climb out. “Fuck.” He hissed in pain.
He’d hurt himself when he’d taken the stairs to chase Piper, then overdid it at the gym last night. The only way he knew how to get sleep was to wear himself out. It hadn’t worked. And now his leg was protesting, and he’d been forced to use his cane. He fucking hated his cane. But if he wanted to get out of the car without falling on his face in front of them, he’d have to. He couldn’t just sit in his car and hope they didn’t see him, hope they went away.
The smooth wooden handle fit his hand perfectly, and he winced as he thrust it out of the car ahead of him, using it to drag his ass out of the seat. Grabbing the stack of paperwork he’d brought with him, he tried to move toward the steps without putting much weight on his leg, but pain shot up from his knee. He gritted his teeth.
“Hey, do you need some help?”
Cole froze. It was the cop that spoke. Forcing himself to turn toward Piper and her officer, he shook his head, mentally pulling the gun from his invisible holster and shooting the fucker in the junk. Piper’s eyes were wide, overflowing with concern. Jesus, he couldn’t stand it.
He made it to the foot of the steps but knew getting up to his door would be a miracle at this point. He should have left the paperwork in the car to get later. At least then he could use both hands to drag his ass up the stairs. But his pride wouldn’t let him back down, not with an audience. He leaned heavily on the railing and lifted his injured leg. The stabbing pain made it near impossible to bend his knee enough to take the first step, and he stumbled, the papers in his hand scattering everywhere.
Piper gasped and ran forward to gather them up.
“Leave them.” Blood thundered through his ears. Just turn around and walk away. She was the last person he wanted seeing him like this.
She straightened and held out her hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll take them up.”
“Just put them on the front seat of the car. I’ll get them later.”
Her cop friend moved closer, pity clear on the bastard’s face. “I know you. Cole Black, right? I was sorry to hear what happened?—”
“I have things to do. Don’t let me hold you up.”
“Right. Sure thing.” The guy grabbed his arm. “At least let me help you upstairs first, bud.”
Cole wrenched his arm away and actually growled. “I don’t need help, and I’m sure as fuck not your bud.”
“Cole,” Piper snapped. “Brian is just trying to?—”
“I don’t give a fuck what Brian’s trying to do.” Piper flinched, hurt clear on her face, and Brian held up his hands in surrender.
Cole turned away and half dragged, half stumbled up the steps to his apartment. Refusing to look any weaker in front of either of them than he already did.
He heard Piper apologizing for his ass-holic attitude, her words, and they walked away.
