Chapter 3 #2
“I came tonight to bid on you and only you. I looked you up online. You and your friends. I know you co-own The Refuge out in New Mexico. That you guys were special forces. I know you were in the SAS, and I even saw the news articles about Alaska Stein, Jasna McClure, and Reese Woodall, about what each of them went through. I saved up every penny I could to win that bid.”
“Then bitch-face won,” Pipe said in a flat tone, a little leery that she seemed to know so much about him and his friends.
A snort escaped Cora. “Yeah. She’s hated me since high school. Would do anything to make my life miserable.”
“Why?”
“Why does she hate me? Um…because she’s a bitch?” Cora said with a shrug.
“No, don’t give a fuck about her. Why me?”
Cora stopped walking, and Pipe turned to look at her. She took a deep breath and said, “I need your help.”
“With what?” Pipe asked.
Instead of answering, Cora sighed and looked past him. “Shoot. This isn’t going how I thought it would.”
His lips twitched. “How’d you think it would go?”
“You’re full of questions,” she accused.
Pipe shrugged and realized he was actually enjoying himself.
He hadn’t thought anything about this trip would be fun, but meeting this woman was more enjoyable than anything else had been in a long time.
She was so unusual, and with every word, he was more and more intrigued.
“Yup. I am. But I’m not the one who was willing to spend five thousand bucks to go to dinner with me just to ask for help. ”
“Six,” she muttered.
“Pardon?”
“I had six thousand dollars,” she admitted, looking him in the eye. “And if I could’ve come up with more, I would’ve spent that too.”
“What’s so important that you were willing to spend so much?” Pipe asked.
“Not what. Who,” Cora corrected.
Surprisingly, disappointment hit Pipe. The only person he could imagine Cora spending that much money on was someone she loved. “Right,” he said. “I’m thinking we need to have this conversation somewhere else, not in the middle of the sidewalk in the dark.”
As if she could read his mind, tell that he’d mentally taken a step back from her, Cora reached out and put her hand on his arm. “It’s not like that,” she insisted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Her name is Lara Osler. She’s my best friend.
The only person in the world I trust with my whole heart.
She’s in trouble and no one will listen to me.
No one believes me. Not her parents, not the cops.
They all think I’m crazy, that I’m just upset because she’s left town and I don’t have her around to mooch off anymore.
Not that I would do that. Mooch off her, I mean.
She’s helped me in the past, I won’t deny that, but she’s literally the only person in the world who gives a damn about me, and I refuse to believe she up and left without a word. ”
The desperation and honesty in her tone made Pipe tense.
She was genuinely worried about her friend and believed she was in danger.
Anxious enough to go out of her comfort zone to attend a fancy bachelor auction, just to talk to him.
The least he could do was give her a moment of his time.
But not here. He didn’t like the dark, especially in a city he didn’t know.
“Come on,” he said, putting his hand at the small of her back and urging her to start walking again.
She did so without complaint, even though her brow was furrowed.
They walked for a few blocks until Pipe saw what he was looking for. When she tried to head toward the entrance to the Metro, he steered her to the left instead.
“Pipe?”
He couldn’t help but smile. He liked that she called him that. Brick and the others might prefer their women to use their given names, but he’d never felt like a “Bryson.” He’d been Pipe for as long as he could remember; it felt right for her to call him by his nickname.
“It’s not The Inn at Little Washington, but with the way we’re dressed, it’s probably a bit more appropriate,” he said, while nodding at the twenty-four-hour diner on the corner.
Cora stopped again, and Pipe was forced to stop with her. She looked up at him in disbelief.
“What? You want to eat somewhere else?” he asked.
“No, it’s fine. I just…you’re taking me to eat?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“You wanted to talk to me. I’m here and willing to listen.”
“Why?” she asked again, this time in a whisper.
Pipe decided to level with her. “Because something about you screams honesty. I’m a little wary that you know so much about me and my buddies, but what you said about your friend?
That’s how I feel about the men I work with at The Refuge.
If something happened to them, I’d do just about anything to make sure they were safe.
I’m not promising you anything other than a free meal, but I’m intrigued enough to want to hear more. ”
Cora swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment. Then they snapped open and she stared at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
Pipe frowned in confusion. “I don’t recall asking you to.”
“Many men don’t.”
Pipe didn’t understand for a beat…then he got pissed. “Taking you out to dinner doesn’t entitle me to sex. Doesn’t entitle any guy to a shag.”
“Sorry,” she said, not looking or sounding sorry at all. “I just had to make sure we were on the same page.”
Pipe was furious that Cora had such a low opinion of men.
No. It wasn’t that. He was mad that she obviously had a reason to think such things right off the bat.
If anyone needed someone she could trust, it was this woman. And he wanted to be that person for her. He knew without a doubt that once she let someone in, like her friend Lara, she’d defend him or her to the death if necessary.
She was the kind of woman he’d always wanted by his side. Someone who wasn’t scared to be with him, who would stick up for him, love him for who he was. It was almost a shame he wasn’t from DC. Not that Cora was interested.
But then…he remembered how she’d defended him to the bitch Eleanor, when she didn’t even know him.
His tattoos, beard, and long hair don’t make him a gang member or a violent person, just as your lack of tattoos doesn’t make you an upstanding citizen.
Personally? I think his tattoos are sexy as hell.
They tell me he’s a man who doesn’t give a shit about what other people think.
People like you, who look down on him because of a little ink on his skin.
You’d sully his reputation if he was ever seen with you.
“We’re on the same page,” Pipe said gruffly.
The relief in her entire body narked him off further, but also made him want to reassure her.
Tell her that she could trust him, that he’d help her.
But he kept his mouth shut because he didn’t know if he could help her.
He needed more information. Once he knew what the situation was, he’d decide on his next steps.
They walked to the door of the diner and Pipe held it open for her.
The waitress who came to greet them took one look at him and stiffened slightly.
He wasn’t sure what she objected to—the full sleeves of tattoos, his longish hair and bushy beard, or maybe all those things combined, juxtaposed with the tuxedo pants, shiny shoes, and button-down shirt.
“Two, please,” Cora said firmly, subtly leaning into him. Without thought, he wrapped his arm around her waist as he kept his face as blank and unthreatening as possible.
He could see the waitress relax a fraction as she said, “Follow me.”
She led them to a booth in the back of the room, nowhere near the windows, which was fine with Pipe. He wanted Cora’s complete attention, and here in the back of the room, where the light was a bit dimmer, he’d have that.
“Stupid woman doesn’t realize that if the shit hits the fan while we’re here, you’d be the person most likely to run to her rescue.” She shook her head with a sigh.
Again, her defense of him made Pipe smile. She was like a mouse protecting an elephant, but somehow he knew down to his bones that her loyalty would be the greatest reward he could ever earn.
They made small talk as they looked over the menus then gave the waitress their order. When she walked away, Pipe put his forearms on the table and leaned in. “You wanted to win dinner with me to tell me your story, to ask for help for your friend. We’re here. Talk to me. Tell me all of it.”
Interestingly enough, she’d seemed nervous up until now.
Had fiddled with her napkin, sipped the water the waitress had brought as if she needed something to do.
But now that she was asked to talk about her friend, she lost some of her edginess.
She copied his posture and leaned on the table as she began to speak.