Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) (25 page)

BOOK: Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3)
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44

It always seems impossible until it's done.

Nelson Mandela

Wyatt:


D
isqualified
.”

Two days later,
Piper’s
is back in the contest, and
Emerson’s
is out.

Max Emerson’s computer was chock-full of information. The NYPD was exceedingly interested in the illegal gambling activity at
Emerson’s
, and is getting ready to indict Max Emerson, John Page, and a dozen other people.

Maisie Hayes, on the other hand, honed in on the emails exchanged between Max Emerson and John Page. The messages showed the two of them plotting to get
Emerson’s
to win
Can You Take The Heat?
. When Maisie read the communication between the two of them, she was furious, and she acted immediately.  

John Page has been fired as a judge, and
Emerson’s
has been thrown out of the contest.

And
Piper’s
is in the finals.

The producer was gleeful about the drama. I’ve no doubt that when the show finally airs to the public, this will serve as a big reveal. “I bet we’ll get a huge ratings boost,” he said to me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. It took effort not to punch him.

“What’s going on with your father?” Piper asks me, once the dust settles. “We’ve been so busy with the contest that I’ve hardly had time to ask you.”  

I shrug. “He’s disappeared. He hasn’t been back at the apartment he was staying at in two weeks. Stone Bradley’s looking for him.”

“Have you made any decisions?” she asks. “Are you going to pay him?”

“I don’t know.” The twenty-one days I had to form a plan has shrunk to seven. It’s Monday today. On Saturday, Piper will compete in the final round of
Can You Take The Heat?
. And on Sunday, I’ll have to either give into my father’s blackmail, or let the pictures of my mother’s house go public.

She frowns. “I hate the idea that your father might win,” she says. “The bad guys shouldn’t succeed. It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Piper,” I reply philosophically. “I don’t like it either, but I don’t want my mother hurt. Even though she says she’s prepared for the gossip that’d break out when the photos are leaked to the tabloids, I don’t think she is. All her life, she’s kept her illness hidden from her friends and co-workers. I can’t out her. If it costs three million dollars to keep her secret, then so be it.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” she concedes, frowning. “But I don’t have to like it.”

“You’re not the only one, baby.”

I
t’s
the night before the final round of
Can You Take The Heat?
. The three of us are having a late dinner when my phone rings. Stone Bradley’s number shows up on the display and I pick up the call. “Hello?”

“Mr. Lawless,” Stone’s voice is crisp. “You asked me to let you know as soon as we located your father.”

I sit up. “You know where he is?”

“He signed a short term lease on a studio in Harlem, and he moved in today.” He reels off an address. “He’s at a neighborhood bar right now. Do you want me to put a tail on him?”

“Yes.” If I’d had my father watched right from the start, he’d have never been able to ambush me at
Piper’s
. He’d have never been able to approach my mother without my knowledge. I’m not going to make this mistake twice. Not when the final round is tomorrow. Who knows what Jack Lawless could decide to do after a few drinks?

I hang up and stare into space. In less than twenty-four hours, the contest will be in full swing. A few hours after that, I’ll meet my father and give him three million dollars, whether I like it or not.

Owen clears his throat. “Are you okay, Wyatt?” he asks me.

“I guess so. Stone called to tell me he’s located my father. He’s in an apartment in Harlem.”

I turn to ask Piper if she needs more wine, only to see her staring at me as if I’ve grown a third head. “What’s the matter?”

“Whatever you do on Sunday,” she says slowly, “I want you to do by choice. If you want to give your father some money, you should do it. But not this way. Not because he’s forcing you to.” Her eyes gleam with anger. “You’re calmer about this than I am, Wyatt. I’m furious. And you know what I’ve just realized?”

“What?”

“Owen knows how to break into places. I know how to be a good distraction, and you know how to do computer stuff.”

Owen straightens. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

Piper nods resolutely. “We’re going to break into this apartment in Harlem and we’re going to steal the photos.”

I’ve got to stop this nonsense before either of them get more excited. “Piper, the final round of
Can You Take The Heat
? is tomorrow. Our focus should be on the contest, not my dad’s bullshit.”

She shakes her head. “You’re wrong. You both helped me when I had no hope. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve given me the most precious gift of all. You made me believe in myself. I used to lie awake at night, worrying myself sick about money. You guys gave me peace of mind, and Wyatt, it’s time I returned the favor. Please. Let’s get the photos back.”

“There’s a flaw in this plan,” Owen cuts in. “It’s a set of photos. Wyatt’s father could have emailed it to himself, he could have uploaded it on the internet, he could have posted them on Facebook. We could delete them from his computer, but there will be copies.”

Something nags at me. I struggle to remember what my mother told me. “No, there won’t be,” I correct him as the memory returns. “My mother told me he used an SLR camera. He’s old-school. He doesn’t believe in digital cameras.”

“Excellent.” Piper jumps to her feet, looking excited. “Let’s go steal your photos, Wyatt.”  

W
e flag
down a cab and the three of us squeeze into the back seat. I try to protest, but neither of them is listening to reason. “It killed me to give Mendez Max Emerson’s computer files,” Owen says grimly. “I felt like I was rewarding bad behavior. Mendez lied to me and I had to help him so that
Emerson’s
would get disqualified. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let your father get away with blackmail, Wyatt. Not if I can prevent it.”

“I agree,” Piper says. There’s a stubborn look on her face, and I sigh when I see it. There’s not the slightest chance she’s going to change her mind.

The cab pulls up outside the building. We do a casual walk-by. The first thing we see is the desk in the center of the lobby, with a security guard seated behind it. “I see he’s already spending my three million dollars,” I remark wryly.

Owen assesses the layout of the building. “The elevators are behind a locked glass door. I’m assuming that residents have keys, and the security guard buzzes guests in.”

Piper straightens her shoulders. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” she says. “I’ll go in and tell the security guard that I’m looking for my uncle, and I’ll convince him to let me in.”

Her blouse shows a generous amount of cleavage. “By flashing him your boobs?” I growl.

She ignores my comment. “You guys just walk in like you own the place.” She gives me a mocking look. “You’re good at that. And I’ll hold the door open for you.”

Strangely, though this plan has a lot of potential to fall apart, it works exactly as we hope. The security guard lets Piper in after ogling her breasts. We stride in behind her, our timing perfect. I hold my breath, waiting for the guard to challenge us, but he’s gone back to fiddling with his phone.

We enter the elevator. “Do you know the apartment number he’s in?” Owen asks.

“Thirteen-forty-two.”

Owen hits the button for the thirteenth floor, and the doors slide shut. “Are you going to be able to pick the lock?” Piper asks him.

He nods. “I’m rusty, but this is an old building in Harlem. Unless your father’s installed new locks, getting in should be a piece of cake.”

Sure enough, Owen has no trouble opening the door. We enter, our eyes darting around the small studio.

A half-dozen moving boxes are stacked up haphazardly in the middle of the room. There’s an unmade bed against the far wall, and a small bedside table next to it. The room doesn’t have any furniture.

“There.” Piper points to an opened suitcase on the bed. “That’s the camera, isn’t it?”

I move inside and grab it. “He might have got the film developed,” Owen says. “Look around for prints.”

“Here.” Piper holds up a bright yellow envelope with two flaps, one holding a set of photos, the other containing the negatives.

I take it from her and flip through the photos quickly. It’s my mother’s house alright. The sink overflows with dishes. The dining room table is completely covered with clothes and piles of books and newspapers. When I see the chaos, my throat starts to close. I shove the photos back in the envelope. “Yes, this is it.”

Owen does a quick and efficient search of the room, making sure there isn’t another copy of the pictures. Nothing turns up. “No computer?” Piper asks.

“He doesn’t seem to own one.”

“Okay.” We’ve been here for five minutes. It’s time to go. “We’re pushing our luck. Let’s leave.”

We head downstairs without incident and hail a cab. When we’re safely away from the apartment, Piper starts to giggle. Owen shakes his head with a grin, and even I have to chuckle. “I can’t believe we did that,” I tell them.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of it sooner,” Owen replies.

“We didn’t know where my father was,” I remind him. “Not until this evening.”

Piper just smiles happily and squeezes my hand. I’m about to pull her toward me and kiss her when all of our phones beep at the same time. “What the heck?” I swear, looking at the display. It’s an automated message from the cameras we installed.

It’s an intruder alert.

Someone is trying to break into
Piper’s
.

Owen exchanges a hard look with me. It’s past closing time at the restaurant. The place should be empty. And the timing, one day before the
Can You Take The Heat?
finals, that can’t be an accident.

We’re facing yet another act of sabotage.

I lean forward and tap at the glass partition to catch the attention of the cab driver. “Change of plans,” I tell him. “Take us to Hell’s Kitchen instead.”

45

Let no such man be trusted.

William Shakespeare

Piper:

T
he cab races
toward my restaurant. Our phones beep again; the intruders have triggered the motion detectors inside the kitchen. “They’re inside.”

The kitchen cameras have been set up to stream to our phones. We watch three people enter my restaurant, but they’re wearing hoodies and I can’t make out who they are.

“What’s he holding?” Owen wonders, his eyes glued to his phone.

“Who?” I stare harder at my screen and notice what Owen’s seen. One of the intruders is taller and broader than the other two, and he’s carrying a case in his hand.

“How far away are we?” There’s a note of fear in my voice. What if they destroy my freezer or my range? We’ll be hard pressed to get a replacement in time for the contest tomorrow.

“Five minutes,” Wyatt replies, sounding absolutely livid. “And when we get there, I’m going to make these clowns regret that they ever decided to break into your restaurant.”

In four minutes, we pull up at the back door. Wyatt hands the cab driver a hundred and doesn’t wait for change. Owen’s already jumped out and is running full tilt toward the door. Though he growls something about danger, I’m hot on his heels.

I don’t care about my safety. I’m done with this nonsense. First the over-salted gravy, then Max Emerson’s stunt. I’m tired of the unending acts of sabotage. Like Wyatt, I want to kick some ass.

Owen unlocks the door and charges in, only to come to a dead halt. I almost slam into his back, then I look up to see what’s caused him to stop.

There are three people in my kitchen. One of them is opening a metal cage containing wriggling white mice. That’s not why I freeze. It’s because I recognize the intruders.

My father’s just let the mice out. My mother stands behind him, her expression nervous as the animals escape confinement and make a mad dash for freedom. And Kimmie leans against a counter, watching the proceedings with a peculiar look of satisfaction on her face.

All three look up with an expression of shock as we enter.

But their surprise is nothing compared to the betrayal that I feel.

“Mom? Dad?” My voice is low; my skin feels cold and clammy. I don’t want to believe my own parents are capable of such an act. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that with mice on the loose in my kitchen, someone will phone in a tip to the health department, who will promptly shut
Piper’s
down.

This time, the sabotage will be fatal to my restaurant. Once the public finds out why we were shut down, they’ll avoid
Piper’s
like the plague. We’ll lose money, hand over fist. We won’t be able to survive this.

Wyatt hurries in and takes in the scene in front of us. He turns to me, and there’s sadness on his face. “I’m sorry, Piper,” he says softly. Wyatt understands, more than Owen, how deep this act of betrayal cuts. He too has been betrayed by a parent.

A mouse skitters by us in search of a place to hide. Owen swears. “How many?” he snarls at my parents. “How many mice were in that cage?”

My parents don’t reply, but Kimmie does. “A dozen.”

Wyatt spares her a glance. “You let them in tonight?” he demands. “How much did they pay you?”

“Two hundred bucks,” she gloats. “I’ve worked here for twelve years and the three of you waltz in and order me around? I’d have done it for free.”

“You’re fired,” Wyatt snaps. “Leave.”

Owen makes a sudden dive and comes up with a wriggling mouse. “Eleven to go.” His voice is grim. “Piper, can you run home and grab Jasper? Let’s make that cat earn his keep.”

I should act, but I can’t. My heart is heavy and my throat’s choked up. “You did this?” I whisper to my parents. “You wanted me to fail so badly that you’d resort to this?”

My father doesn’t look me in the eyes. My mother stands erect, her spine stiff. “I just want what’s best for you, Piper. I want you to come back home, find a nice man and get married. Not spend the rest of your life doing menial labor.”

My control shatters at her words. “I don’t need to find a nice man,” I hiss at them. “I have two. You hear that, mother? I’m dating both Wyatt and Owen. At the same time.”

She looks horrified. Earlier this evening, I would have been devastated by her reaction, but not any more. I’m far too heartsick to feel anything other than numb. “I think you should both go,” I continue. “You’ve done your damage. Please. Just go.”

T
hree hours later
, all twelve mice have been found and the kitchen has been scrubbed down. Jasper was great at finding the rodents, but he didn’t realize he was supposed to kill them. Instead, he wanted to play with them, and was quite disappointed when Owen took them away from him and put them in the cage.

“They’re from the pet store,” Owen says in disgust, looking at the trembling creatures. “Poor things, they’re frightened out of their minds.”

Wyatt’s looking a little green as well. “Are you scared of mice?” I ask him.

He shudders. “I found a nest of them once in a pile of newspapers. Ever since then, I’ve been terrified of them.” He frowns. “I know it’s a ridiculous fear.”

I put my arm around him. Owen makes sure the cage is latched shut, and comes around to hug me. “I’m sorry,” he mutters into my hair. “Your parents suck.”

I half-laugh, half-sob. “They really do.” I cling onto them, seeking comfort in their strength. “What happens now? I’m assuming a health inspector will show up to check on
Piper’s
tomorrow.”

“There’s no sign that anything’s amiss,” Owen responds. “They can’t shut you down unless there’s evidence that something’s wrong.”

“Kimmie could say she’s seen mice in the kitchen,” I point out. “She’s a waitress here. They’d believe her.”

Wyatt shakes his head. “I talked to her before she left.” His voice is cold as ice. “We have her on the camera feed helping your parents let the mice out. That’s a criminal act. I made Kimmie aware that if I ever heard from her again, I’d call the cops on her.”

“Oh.” That’s good news, but I don’t know if I have it in me to be hopeful. Not anymore.

“Come to bed,” Owen says. “It’s really late. Let’s stop worrying about what’s going to happen tomorrow and get a good night’s sleep.” He grabs the cage of squealing animals. “Where’s Tomas?” he says with a grin. “He seems like a competent sort. I’m sure he’ll sort these guys out.”

I exhale. Tomas is a softie, and in addition, he’s vegetarian. The mice will be just fine.

But me? I’m not sure.

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