Alias. Amy J. Fetzer
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face up, then blotted the wet cloth over her eyes. There was nothing there, but he pretended there was. He eased the cloth from her eyes and she opened them. Her vision filled with him.
“Okay?”
Darcy breathed him in, his strength, his scent. His face was so close, his mouth inviting. His gaze raked her face, as if searching for answers she knew he wanted. But he didn’t say anything.
Then his head dipped, his mouth a breath from hers.
“Don’t, Jack.” Yet she didn’t back away.
“Don’t what?”
“Oh, I know you’re not stupid and neither am I. Don’t take this friendship there.”
“Are we friends, Piper? I figured I was just the hired muscle.”
“Yeah, that, too.” She eased away from him. Instantly she felt more alone.
“Friends trust each other.”
“I trust you with my life, Jack.”
His look went sour. “You give that to cops and firefighters.”
“What do you want from me?”
“To know you.”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t.” He gestured to the array of chemicals and powders, makeup and fake hair spread across her kitchen. “I’m wondering if anyone does.”
Darcy didn’t say anything. Because it was true. No one really knew who she was, least of all her. Jack stepped away, reaching for his jacket and hat. Darcy cleaned off her hands and walked him to the door.
He had his hand on the knob when he said, “By the way, I saw Charlie on TV last week.”
And the bottom of her world fell out.
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