“OK, that’s not something I want to think about,” Liv said, forcing a smile and shivering. “One spider I can handle. A nest . . . nope. Anyway, can we change the topic please?”
“What would you like to talk about?” the Sheikh said, smiling wide, showing off his perfectly aligned, brilliant white teeth. “We have all night.”
Liv snorted, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead. “Actually, that’s what I want to talk about. What am I doing here? What are we doing here? What’s going on here, Hakeem? What aren’t you telling me?”
The Sheikh took a breath, his smile fading as he rubbed his jaw again. He walked to the window, bending slightly and peering out. Then he made a motion with his hand, and his limousine’s engine kicked to life, its tires crunching gravel as it slowly pulled past the still-open front door and then headed toward the driveway leading to the exit.
Liv double checked to make sure her car was still there, and sighed when she saw its comforting red shape sitting there off to the side, just where she’d left it. You can leave at any time, she told herself. Any signs that this guy is a psycho, and you’re gone. He touches you and you’re gone, right?
Well, she thought, stealing a glance at his muscular butt as he leaned against the window in those fitted silk pants. Depends on how he touches you . . .
A flash of guilt went through her as she thought back to the last man she’d kissed. It had been a year, and that man was now dead. He’d been a sweetheart of a man, gentle and kind—perhaps too gentle, Liv had thought sometimes. But still—who the hell would want to kill him?! The police had never solved the case, chalking it up to a gang initiation or perhaps mistaken identity. Mistaken identity?! He’d been shot at close range, twice in the goddamn head!
She shook her head to get the images out of it, knowing that she couldn’t let herself go back to that place, that dark, dark place where she’d been in the months following her boyfriend’s murder. And it wasn’t just the shock of the loss, the images of the violence, the heartache for the grief his parents and family had to go through: It was the guilt of knowing that she was about to break up with him, that she’d made her mind up to do it that very night when she’d gotten the news!
She’d been dreading the conversation, knowing that it would break his heart. He was smitten with her, head-over-heels in love like a puppy dog. And that was part of the problem for Liv: She just didn’t feel that way about him. She liked him a lot. She appreciated the gifts and the love letters—though the cheesy way he’d quote song lyrics to her declaring his love and how much he missed her even when she left him to go to the bathroom would make her roll her eyes privately and think, “Man up, you pussy,” even though she hated herself for thinking it. But she couldn’t help it. She’d grown up in the sticks of North Carolina, where men hunted and chopped wood and didn’t get weepy when their women left them for ten minutes to go pee!
And then there was the sex—or rather, the lack of it.
Liv blinked and did her best to push all of it away as she tried to focus on what was going on in here, in this strange situation where a man was claiming she’d sold him a haunted house! But the thoughts kept coming like they were being pushed at her from outside, and she blinked again, her eyes absentmindedly focused on the Sheikh’s round butt as she remembered the first time her dead ex had said he was “happy just kissing” and didn’t need anything more.
She’d hated him for saying that, an anger rising up in her as if he was implying she was some kind of wanton woman for needing more than a wholesome kiss from a man. Sure, they’d eventually had sex, but it been missionary-style, quick, and “uneventful” for Liv. She’d been patient with him, even guiding his fingers between her legs and showing him what went on down there. But he’d gone red in the face, pulling his fingers away as if touching her clit made him sick to his stomach. And then he’d started with the “let’s just kiss” nonsense. What the hell?
Everything had gone downhill from there, and she’d decided to end it. She had her conversation all planned out, including the “we’ll always be friends” routine that she knew wasn’t going to happen but would perhaps soften the blow for him. But then she got the call from his parents, saying the police had found him in the woods. They’d asked her if he was on drugs, if he’d been mixed up in anything bad, if she’d been mixed up in something that could have led to this!
Of course, Liv knew better than to say anything about anything when a murder investigation was underway, and she’d just expressed her shock and grief and kept her distance. When the police had called her in for questioning, she’d taken a lawyer with her, which she’d always known was the prudent thing to do—especially if you were innocent of wrongdoing! But although the police ruled her out as a suspect early on, her dead boyfriend’s parents never did, and when they heard she’d taken a lawyer with her to the precinct, they’d been convinced she had something to do with their son’s death. And that had only added to Liv’s guilt in a weird way—knowing that not only was she about to dump their sweet baby boy, but that his parents actually believed that she was some kind of evil witch who’d drawn that event into his life!
And what the hell has drawn this into my life, Liv thought as the Sheikh turned from the window and faced her, his dark, handsome face half lit by the setting sun, which was casting long shadows on the oakwood floors of the empty house.
“There is nothing I am not telling you,” he said. “But there is much that I hope to find out tonight.”
Liv frowned, blinking as she watched the Sheikh walk to the closet by the front and pull out a hard black case. He popped it open and smiled at her as he pulled out what looked like cameras and some other electrical equipment that she couldn’t identify.
“What the hell?” she muttered, going over to him and squinting at the wires, bulbs, and God-knows-what-else he was pulling out of the bag. “Are we making a movie here? Am I on a reality show? Is that what this is?”
The Sheikh laughed. “In a manner of speaking, yes!” He pulled out two small cameras and held them up for her. “Night-vision cameras with motion-sensing triggers.” Then he pointed at the other pieces of equipment one by one. “Precision microphones. Infrared sensors. Electromagnetic field detectors. Everything we will need to capture evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Liv said, her frown deepening as she stared at Hakeem.
“Paranormal activity,” the Sheikh replied without hesitation, his fingers deftly sorting through the mass of wires.
“Paranormal. Activity,” Liv repeated, enunciating each word slowly as she allowed it to sink in. “Are you serious? You seriously believe there are ghosts in this house? I thought you were a scientist, not a nutcase!”
“I am a scientist. And that is why I want to capture evidence.”
“Evidence of ghosts? You are a nutcase.”
The Sheikh grinned, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looked up at her. “Perhaps. And that is why I need a witness.”
“A witness? So that’s why I’m here?” Liv said, blinking as she stood back, her hands firmly on her wide hips. “All of this about returning the house and screwing me out of my commission was because you needed a witness? You could have pulled anyone off the street and paid them a few hundred dollars to watch you act like a lunatic, you know! Not to mention the weirdoes who are already into searching for ghosts or whatever! How about your fellow scientists? Undergrads from UNC or Duke? You could have an audience of witnesses by snapping your fingers!”
Hakeem shook his head. “It had to be you. You are already connected to this house, to me, and to whatever entities reside here. The entities might not show themselves if there are other people present.”
“Entities? You mean the ghosts. Stop trying to make this sound all scientific and legit. It’s madness!”
“All right. If so, we will see and hear nothing all night. And by morning you will have fulfill
ed your end of the bargain and you can drive off in your fancy new car. End of story. Yes?”
“I should drive off right now,” Liv retorted, hands on her hips, a strange feeling of unease rising up in her as she sensed the shadows getting longer as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
The Sheikh glanced up from his equipment, his expression stoic and dead serious. “Then I will make good on my threat, and you will hear from my lawyers tomorrow morning.”
“But why?!” Liv said, doing her best not to scream in frustration. “Why me? What’s going on?”
Hakeem finally let go of the equipment and stood back up, taking a deep breath and looking directly into her eyes. “All right. All right. I admit I have not been completely honest with you. But if I had, there is no way you would have agreed to this.”
Liv glanced out the window. The sun was below the treeline now, and soon it would be dark. Not that it made any sense, but for some reason it felt like a deadline was approaching, like she was running out of time to turn back, to get the hell out of here.
“Go on,” she said, her hand moving down the front of her jeans. She touched her car keys to make sure they were still there. Then she reached around to her back pocket and felt the outline of her phone. It gave her some relief, and she took a breath and waited for the Sheikh to come clean.
“Ms. O’Reilly,” he said slowly, his green eyes narrowing. “What do you know about the demonic?”
“The what?” Liv said, her breath catching as she saw something in the Sheikh’s green eyes, something that reminded her of . . . of . . .
“You heard me,” said Hakeem, blinking and looking away, his muscular neck thickening as it flexed in a strange, almost involuntary way.
Liv stared at him as those shadows stretched out across the barren floor of that old house, and she could barely breathe as she processed his words, saw the way his muscular body was contorting, his green eyes narrowing and then widening as if there was a struggle going on inside him.
“No,” she whispered, backing away as memories of a time long past came creeping back in, memories she’d told herself weren’t real, memories she’d decided were just colored by a child’s overactive imagination and overly dramatic parents. “This isn’t happening. I’m leaving. You can sue my ass, take my house, my car, my goddamn shoes if you want. I’m outta here.”
She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm from behind, whipping her around and coming close. His touch was cold, his eyes were cold, but the contact made her feel hot, and she fought the urge to break free and get the hell out of there.
“Please,” he whispered. “You are the only one who can help me. The only one who can make it show itself. The only one who can get it out of me.”
“Get what out of you?” she said, refusing to acknowledge what he was saying. She’d buried that part of her past when she buried her parents, and she wasn’t digging that nonsense up again. Never again.
“You know what,” the Sheikh said, his jaw trembling, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead spontaneously like a fever had broken. “You know what.”
10
TWENTY YEARS EARLIER
“What is it?” Liv asked, staring wide-eyed at her mother as the older woman mopped the thick, black sludge oozing from the man’s nose and mouth. “Blood?”
Candice O’Reilly shook her head, glancing over at her husband, who was standing a few feet away, dressed in a black robe, a silver crucifix hanging around his neck, his eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer.
“She needs to leave,” said Candice urgently. “This one could get dangerous.”
“She’s safer in here with us than anywhere else,” said James O’Reilly, shaking his head gently as he opened his eyes and smiled over at his daughter. “And she needs to learn eventually. Now answer her question while I get ready.”
Candice took a breath and shook her head, finally turning to Liv and forcing a smile. “It’s not blood, dear. It’s evil. The physical manifestation of evil. This man is possessed by a demon, and we’ve managed to get it to show itself.”
“Show itself? Was it hiding?” Liv asked, turning up her nose as a primal stench filled the room. “Eww! What is that smell?!”
Candice smiled and nodded. “A demon always hides. It doesn’t want to be discovered. We’ve managed to get it to show itself, and now it wants to scare us away. The stuff coming out of his mouth, the smell, bad words and threats . . . all of it is just smoke and mirrors, an act to make us scared so we’ll leave it alone.”
A low growl came from the man tied to the chair in the O’Reilly’s empty garage, and he spat some of that black sludge onto the gray concrete floor, tugged at his bindings, his head moving slowly from left to right, his eyes ultra-focused but with a wildness in them that sent a chill up Liv’s spine.
“Untie me and I won’t eat you alive,” growled the man, a vicious smile appearing on his lips as he focused those wild eyes on little Liv.
Liv screamed, reaching for her mother. Candice pulled her daughter close, glancing over at James again. But his eyes were closed, and Candice sighed and petted Liv’s long brown hair, comforting the child as she looked into the eyes of the possessed man.
“You can scare her, but you will not get a hold on her,” she said calmly. “She is an innocent, and evil will have no foothold in her, no hook, no entryway.”
The man’s eyes flashed with an otherworldly glow, and he blinked once and then focused those eyes on Candice. His gaze was locked, his mouth frozen in a sneer, that low growl still coming from what seemed like deep within his belly.
“A demon can sense negative emotions within us,” Candice said softly to Liv, still petting the girl’s hair gently. “Those emotions give it power, energy, fuel. Fear is one of those emotions, which is why when a demon gets discovered, it wants to scare us. But fear is not a very powerful fuel for a demon. Not as powerful as guilt. Guilt is the emotion that demons love to prey on, to use as an entryway for possession. That’s why you don’t need to fear this demon, Liv. You’re a child, innocent and pure. You’ve done nothing that you need to feel guilty about, and so a demon will never have a point of entry into you.”
Liv nodded, sensing her fear dissipate as her mother patted her hair. She’d learned about this before, ever since her parents told her they were exorcists, trained by Irish Catholic priests outside the mandate of the Vatican—priests who believed there weren’t enough sanctioned exorcists to handle a rise in demonic activity in the world, especially in the United States.
“So if I never do anything bad, a demon can’t enter me, right?” Liv asked, cautiously stepping away from her mother and looking at the possessed man.
Candice sighed. “It’s not so simple, Liv. Sometimes people feel guilty even when they never do anything bad.”
“I don’t understand,” Liv had said, frowning. “Why would you feel guilty about something if you didn’t do it? Or if what you did wasn’t a bad thing?”
“You’ll understand when you grow up, Liv. For now, just stay close to me and watch as your father frees this man from his demon. Watch, because someday you might be called upon to do the same.”
11
Someday you might be called upon to do the same.
Her mother’s words rang in her head as she looked into the Sheikh’s green eyes, watched the beads of sweat roll down his temples, saw the way his neck flexed again, his jaw tightening and releasing as if he was grinding his teeth. She’d witnessed dozens of exorcisms by the time she was sixteen, and she could see the signs now that she was looking for them on Hakeem’s face and body. But these were early signs, she knew as she thought back to everything she’d learned about the process of possession. It was a slow build to full possession, an inner fight between man and beast, a complex game of mental manipulation as the demon gained more traction, slowly pushing out the humanity in a person.
&
nbsp; “A man in the grips of possession always reaches out for help in some way or form,” James O’Reilly had reminded Liv after she’d asked him why a possessed man would even approach an exorcist. “The divine lives in all of us, and that part is always reaching away from the darkness and towards the light. The demon can weaken it, but it can almost never eliminate the divine completely. It is the exorcist’s job to help the victim find the divine in himself and use it to expel the demon.”
Liv had thought about what her father was saying, and then she’d frowned and looked up at him. “So really, an exorcist doesn’t get rid of the demon. The exorcist helps the possessed person get rid of his own demon!”
“Exactly!” James had said, his weathered face beaming with pride. “That’s my girl! You hear that, Candice? She gets it! She really is one of us!”
Her mother had smiled, the lines and wrinkles on her face showing as she moved slowly from the kitchen to the living room to join her husband and daughter. That was one of the last times Liv had seen Candice smile, and it was only after both her parents were gone that she realized how much their life’s work had taken out of them.
They’d left her with very little other than the house and land, but it was enough to allow her to move to Raleigh and pay for college at one of the smaller state campuses. And that had opened up a new world for Liv, a world so different from that strangely sheltered life out in rural Carolina that her life growing up seemed like a dream, unreal. She’d think about those so-called exorcisms she’d witnessed, and even though she’d seen things like lacerations appearing and then spontaneously disappearing after the demon was supposedly expelled, heard people screaming in languages from Aramaic to Latin, Hebrew to Swahili, over the years Liv had let it all go, pushed it away like it was a fairy-tale, embraced the “real” world with all her heart.
Haunted for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 15) Page 5
