TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
ONE
Piper Sinclair knew a bad thing when she saw it, and right now she was seeing it. A dozen ladies, all in various colors and styles of spandex, sat on bamboo mats staring with undisguised adoration at a woman whose banal smile set Piper’s teeth on edge. A whiteboard at the front of the room stated the purpose of the meeting—“Love Yourself to Weight Loss.” On either side of the whiteboard, long candle-laden tables sent up a steady stream of vanilla-scented air.
“Forget it. I’ve changed my mind.” Piper did a U-turn and tried to exit the room, but Gabriella Webber blocked her retreat, her sweet, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly face set in mutinous lines.
“You can’t change your mind. You promised.”
“I wouldn’t have if you’d told me what this seminar was about.”
“I did tell you what it was about.”
“You said a weight-loss meeting. You didn’t say New Age mumbo jumbo.” The words were a quiet hiss, but from the look on Gabby’s face, Piper might as well have shouted.
“Shhhhh! Dr. Lillian will hear you.”
“I’m barely whispering.”
But the slim, smiling woman was hurrying across the room as if she had heard the exchange. “Welcome, ladies. I’m Dr. Sydney Lillian. Please, have a seat. We’ll be ready to begin in just a few minutes.”
Piper wanted to tell the doctor she wouldn’t be staying, but Gabby was staring at her with such hopeful pleading she didn’t have the heart to walk out.
“Thank you, Dr. Lillian. Come on, Gabby. Let’s find a seat.” Piper chose a mat close to the back of the room and sat down.
Gabby lowered herself onto a mat a few feet away, then leaned over and grabbed Piper’s arm, her dark eyes brimming with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this. If this class works as well as it’s supposed to, I’ll be slim and trim by Christmas. Just in time to find a New Year’s date.”
“Gabby…” But what could Piper say? That losing weight wouldn’t help Gabby find Mr. Right? That Mr. Right didn’t exist? That all Piper had ever found were a lot of Mr. Wrongs, all gussied up to look like what they weren’t? “You’ll have a New Year’s date whether you lose the weight or not. You always do.”
“I know. I just want this year to be different.”
Meaning Gabby wanted commitment, love, marriage. All the things women approaching thirty typically wanted. All the things Piper had decided she could do without. She smiled anyway, patting Gabby’s arm. “It will be.”
“I hope you’re right.” Gabby sighed and settled back onto her mat.
Piper’s bamboo mat was uncomfortable, and the strange affirmations the class was forced to say made her feel even more so. I love my belly. I love my hips. Since when did one need to affirm affection for each and every body part in order to lose weight? By the time the forty-minute session wound to an end, Piper was ready to ask for a refund on her money and her time.
“Are there any questions before we adjourn?” Dr. Lillian’s voice was like warm honey, but her eyes were cold.
Piper started to raise her hand and got an elbow to the ribs for her effort.
“Don’t you dare.” Gabby hissed the warning, her eyes shooting daggers.
Piper grinned, shrugged and let her hand drop.
Another woman—a plump blonde with a pretty face and striking blue eyes—raised her hand. “Dr. Lillian?”
“Yes, Piper?”
Despite her gut-level dislike of the woman, Piper felt a twinge of sympathy for Dr. Lillian as the blonde’s cheeks stained pink and a frown line appeared between her brows. “I’m not—”
She never had the chance to finish. One minute scented candles and soft music created an atmosphere of gentle serenity, the next, a dark blur raced into sight. A man. Medium height, wearing jeans, a faded T-shirt and a mask. Carrying a gun. A gun!
He grabbed the blonde who’d moments before been pink with embarrassment or anger. Now she was pale as paper, her eyes wide with fear.
Someone screamed. Others took up the chorus.
“Enough!” The gunman shouted the order, the silence that followed immediate and pulsing with terror.
“That’s better. Now everyone just stay put and you won’t get hurt.” He inched toward the door, his arm locked around the blonde’s neck, his pale yellow-green eyes staring out from behind the ski mask. Crocodile eyes. And like a crocodile, he had no intention of letting his prey escape alive.
The thoughts flashed through Piper’s mind, demanding action. She took a step toward the man. “Let her go.”
A mouse could have made more noise.
She tried again. “Let her go. Before you make more trouble for yourself.”
His reptilian gaze raked over Piper and dismissed her as no threat. Still, the gun he held never wavered. He kept it pointed toward the group as he took one step after another, slowly, inexorably pulling his victim to the door. Ten steps and he’d be there. Nine.
The long sleeve of his T-shirt hiked up around his forearm, revealing a snake tattoo that coiled around his wrist and up toward his elbow. The deep greens and reds of the serpent seemed to undulate, the gold eyes almost exactly matching the eyes of the gunman. Hard. Evil.
The other women must have sensed the same. Each was frozen in place, eyes fixed on the gun as if staring hard enough would keep it from firing.
Eight steps. Seven. Soon he’d pull the woman out the door and into the parking lot. He’d disappear, the woman with him.
Six.
The smart thing to do would be to wait until the man walked outside and then call for help. It’s what Piper’s brother Jude would expect her to do. A New York City cop, he knew the best way to respond in a crisis, and he’d drilled her on everything from natural disasters to hostage situations.
Five. Four.
The blonde’s eyes were wide with terror, begging someone, anyone, to stop what was happening. Piper couldn’t ignore the plea. She stepped forward again, praying for wisdom and for help. “Hey, you’re holding her too tight. She can’t breathe. She’s turning blue!”
The hysteria in her voice was real, and the blonde did her part, moaning, dropping her weight against the arm that held her. The gunman glanced down and that was the chance Piper needed. She leaped forward, raising her leg in a roundhouse kick she’d been practicing for months. Hard. Fast. To the wrist. Just the way her other brother, Tristan, had taught her. The gun flew from the man’s hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor a few feet away. Piper dove for it, her fingers brushing against metal just as a hand hooked onto her arm and threw her sideways.
She
