He was supposed to protect Ben and Piper. He was failing them both.

***

“Thought…we were lovers…” Ben’s words were a weak rasp.

The EMTs were buzzing around him, tending his wounds, and getting an IV set up.

“That’s why…came after…”

Oh, God. His words ended in a mumble, but Piper knew exactly what Ben had been about to say. The attacker had come after Ben because he thought Ben was her lover.

The same bastard had gone after her former lover Grady. Had killed Grady.

If Ben hadn’t been able to fight back…

Her hand tightened around his. She and Eric had been looking at this all wrong. They’d been thinking her exes could be suspects. They weren’t. They were potential victims. The men that she’d dated, the lovers that she’d had—they were in danger.

Eric was in danger. Because she could hear his voice in her head, clear as day. The words he’d told to Ben’s attacker. “I’m the one fucking Piper. You hunting her lover? You want her lover to pay? It’s me. Me. Not Ben. He’s never been her lover, so you stay the fuck away from him.”

Eric had put a giant target right on his own back.

Chapter Fourteen

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” Ben’s grousing voice filled the hospital room.

Piper tensed and jumped from her chair. She’d been waiting beside his bed, and at those grumbling words, she knew he was finally back with her. “Not a truck, just some asshole.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Pipe?” An old nickname. He hadn’t called her that since they were kids. “Why do you look like someone died?” Then his eyes widened. “Shit, am I dead?”

Her lips curved. “No, but you are heavily drugged. You’ve got stitches in your back and side, and the doc said you’d suffered a concussion.”

His lips pursed. “That would explain the drum playing in my head.” His words were still rasping.

She lost her smile. “He went after you.”

Ben frowned at her.

“Do you remember what happened?” Her fingers slid carefully along his hand, making sure not to disturb the IV line.

“I…remember being at my place. The light was…on. In my bedroom.”

She waited. She could see him struggling to gather his thoughts.

“I went in…someone hit me from behind.” His left hand lifted, as if he’d touch the wound, but then he stilled. “I think he stabbed me.”

Her heart squeezed.

“One.” His voice had dropped even more. “Two…” His brow wrinkled.

“Uh, Ben? What are you doing?”

His gaze held hers. Some of the confusion was slowly clearing. “I think the bastard was counting as he stabbed me.”

She pulled in a quick breath. “Did you see his face?” The cops had already come by—twice—because they wanted to know the answer to that question.