by S. E. Harmon
Chapter 3
I couldn’t really say what woke me up.
It could’ve been a stray sound or rolling out of Danny’s arms. Maybe even a shift of light outside the bedroom window. I peered blearily into the semidarkness, trying to separate shape from shadow. After a few moments, my eyes adjusted, and I spotted the ghost sitting on the edge of the bed.
I was too tired to be annoyed. A lot may have changed in the past six months, but one thing hadn’t changed one whit—I still saw ghosts, and they still had no concept of time.
Thick dark hair tumbled over his forehead. I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but he looked lost in thought… maybe even a little sad. I pegged him for early thirties, but I’d always been crap at guessing people’s ages. From the looks of his dark wash jeans, plaid shirt, and scuffed sneakers, he was probably from this era, thank fuck. I didn’t know frustration until I spent four months convincing an irate pirate I had no intention of digging under a hospital for his buried treasure.
When he caught my gaze, his expression brightened. Those eyes were green and clear and hopeful. They turned a pretty face into something kind of beautiful. “So the rumors are true.”
“No,” I said, pulling the covers over my head.
“You don’t even know what I want.”
“You want what they all want.”
My voice was muffled, but he heard me just fine. “You’re supposed to help me,” he said. “That is what you do, isn’t it?”
“I will help you,” I promised. “Just not in the middle of the night.”
He huffed. “How will I know when you’re ready to work? Time isn’t the same on this side. Nothing is, really.”
I pulled the covers back down so I could send him a droll look. “I can give you a good marker for morning. There’s this burning ball of light in the sky. My people call it the sun.”
“Bridge,” he said exasperatedly.
“Ghost,” I said, since we were clearly calling out things we already knew.
He rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “I’m not even sure how I got here.”
Well, do the reverse and hit the bricks.
I shifted restlessly, scratching my calf with my foot. Why ghosts seemed to love cranking up a good mystery right in the middle of the goddamned night, I’d never know. But I if I kept popping up and helping them whenever they wanted, they’d never change.
“Morning,” I said firmly.
“But I’d like to take you somewhere.” He made a sound of impatience at my alarmed expression. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I would’ve just done it here. Probably while you were sleeping.”
Comforting. I thought about dragging things out for a few more minutes, but I got the feeling he wasn’t going away. And my mood sure wasn’t getting any better. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Mason, I think. Like I said, everything is different on this side, but that name… it speaks to me somehow.” He tried it out again. “Mason. Maaaayson.”
I decided to get up before he drew me a diagram. “All right. Just give me a second,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I’ll throw on some clothes, and we can get to work.”
He nodded, and I struggled out of the comfy nest of blankets. The floor was cold on my bare feet, and I made a silent promise to bring a throw rug from my place. Danny was ridiculously proud of his floors—and they were beautiful—but warm feet had to be a priority over glossy dark wood.
I tried to move quietly, but I might as well have saved the effort. Danny made a noise of disapproval before I even made it to the end of the bed, and in my distraction, I tripped over the ottoman. I yelped, grabbing my foot.
His dark hair was a ruffled mess as he emerged from the blankets and squinted at me, left eye still closed. I wondered how long he’d been lying there, listening quietly and critiquing how I handled the situation.
His voice was rough and raspy when he spoke. “Serves you right.”
“Thank you.” I scowled. “By the by, how’s that Sympathy for Dummies class going?”
“I do have sympathy for one dummy in particular,” he said patiently. “Do you think it could be sprained?”
I was about to zing him back, but my toe started to throb. My attention diverted back to whether I’d broken the damned thing. I put weight on it cautiously. So far, so good.
“Not that I can tell,” I finally said.
“Bring it here.”
I knew better than to waste my breath arguing. I limped over and did the flamingo to put my foot in his lap. I tried to gauge his mood, but he wasn’t giving me much to go on. His lashes hid those blue eyes, his most expressive feature. I shifted restlessly. Smart money was on annoyed, but his touch was warm and incredibly gentle.
He examined my foot with his usual hyper focus, turning it about in his hands and poking here and there. After a few seconds of his careful examination, I could tell there was no real damage. I kept mum, holding in a sigh as his thumb swept across my arch. He could make a bloody fortune as a foot masseuse.
A soft groan escaped my lips, and he peered up at me. “That hurt?”
“Yes,” I said promptly.
“Where?”
“Um, I’ll tell you where. Just keep rubbing.”
He swatted me off with a slight smile, and I gingerly put my foot down. “Do you know what time it is?”
I had a vague idea. “No.”
“It’s three in the morning,” he said before involving my Echo. “Alexa, what time is it?”
“The time is three oh four a.m.,” she agreed.
Oh, she was ripe for a date with a sink full of water. I glared. “Thank you. Both of you. But this just can’t wait.”
“Do you remember the talk we had about ghostly boundaries?”
“Yes, I remember that but—”
“Is this life or death?”
I limped over to the dry-cleaning pile and pawed through it. Hopefully a few of pieces had another wear left in them. “Maybe.”
“That was a trick question. If he or she is already dead, then this can wait until morning.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Doesn’t it? Alexa, turn on the lights.”
Nothing happened, and we both glanced up at the light fixture. He repeated the command louder and she suddenly complied. I winced as the bulb flared to life. Danny went on, clearly not bothered that my Echo had just tried to sear our retinas. “I can’t see how you expect to control your gifts if you barely know what they are.”
“I can’t see period, so thanks for that,” I said, blinking away the spots. “And I met with that guru, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you won’t go back.”
“He wasn’t right for me. I told you I’d see another. I just have to find time to set up another appointment.”
“I set up a meeting with another guru twice and you bailed. Twice.”
“I had to do something for work. You know that.” I sent him an irritable look. “And frankly, the only thing I can think of more annoying than ghost chasing at four in the morning is getting yelled at about it.”
I shook out a pair of navy slacks and inspected them. They didn’t even seem worn. I might’ve left the FBI, but the dress code was so ingrained that I was pretty much a hopeless cause. There was only so much I could do to repress years of anal behavior. I yanked them on, cursing as the fabric caught on my poor toe.
“I’m not yelling,” he finally said. His voice softened anyway. “I know you didn’t ask for this. I just… I worry about you.”
I didn’t look at him as I zipped and buttoned up, mostly because it was pathetic how good that made me feel. Like someone had poured a cup of hot cocoa in my chest cavity. Of course, that would probably kill me, but that was how it felt.
“I like it when you worry about me,” I admitted. And I hate it, too.
“And you hate it,” he said, so close on the tail end of my own thought that I briefly worried I’d spoken aloud. His mouth lifted. “I know you
, Rainstorm. Sometimes better than you know yourself. My worry has nothing to do with thinking you’re not capable.”
While I was digesting that little bit of information, he threw back the covers dramatically and got out of bed. His dark gray boxers were a little wrinkled and bunched up in certain places as they clung desperately to all that muscled goodness. Six months in and I still got a semi when I saw him half naked.
Maybe I was a little biased, but Daniel McKenna was a disgustingly fine specimen of a man, with thick, dark hair, deep blue eyes, and a jaw square enough to do geometry with—the very epitome of tall, dark, and classically handsome. He was well-built everywhere, broad in the shoulders and narrow in the waist, with strong, corded thighs that took my mind places we didn’t have time for. I didn’t feel bad goggling, though. The feature I loved the most about him was that he had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever known. And the most sculpted ass.
Hey, I can love more than one thing.
He stretched and yawned and scratched that picture-perfect ass for a few seconds. Then he started moving towards the bathroom. “Wait.” I shook my head a little, trying to clear my pervy thoughts. “Where are you going?”
He sent me a superior eyebrow arch and his barbell piercing glinted. “I’m a human being. As such, sometimes I like to relieve myself.”
“Cute.”
“Then I’m going to get dressed, because I know you’re not thinking of going out there by yourself.”
That was exactly what I’d intended on doing. “There’s no need to interrupt your sleep.”
“Yeah, all that glorious sleep I’ll be having while I’m wondering if you’re okay running around in the middle of the night, God only knows where, with only a ghost as your backup.”
Well, when you put it like that. I struggled for an appropriately withering comeback, but there wasn’t really anything I could say—nothing intelligent anyway. At my stumped silence, he made a sound of satisfaction and headed for the bathroom.
“I mean, only good things happen at three in the morning, right?” He closed the bathroom door, but I could still hear him, annoyingly loud and clear. “And ghosts only lead you good, safe places, right?”
“Know-it-all.” I yanked on my shirt and left it unbuttoned as I sat on the edge of the bed to put on my loafers.
“And wear some jeans,” he called, “with some hard shoes. Boots, even. There’s no telling where this ghost is gonna lead us.”
I sighed and tossed my loafers at the ottoman, where they landed with a soft thump before tumbling to the floor. Yes, this wasn’t our first after hours ghost adventure. Yes, we’d been led some questionable places. And yes, once I ripped my favorite pair of trousers rolling down a rocky hill because apparently ghosts don’t respect the fine tailoring of Hugo Boss. But turn the page already, why don’t you?
“Obviously, I wouldn’t hurt you,” Mason said, still skulking in the doorway. “I need your help. Hurting you would be counterproductive to that, wouldn’t it?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Good to know the only thing between me and a ghostly knife between the ribs is the fact that you need my assistance.”
He huffed. “You know what I mean.”
By the time I dressed in some black jeans and a shirt, Danny was still in the bathroom brushing his teeth. I huffed out a breath as I heard him gargling. “Let’s go,” I called out. He wasn’t even dressed yet. “Ghosts aren’t exactly known for their patience.”
“Coming, coming.” He came out of the bathroom, flipping the light off on his way out. “Do we have time for coffee?”
I blinked at him. “Am I dying?” Because there was always time for coffee.
He smiled. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
“That and regular sex,” I agreed.
His gaze slid down to my mouth. I pretended not to notice. I knew if I looked down, I’d see him getting hard. I was pretty sure those clingy boxers wouldn’t hide a damned thing. I also owed him a blowjob, and I never welshed on a blowjob. It’s just not good manners, and I was raised better than that.
Danny’s voice was a little husky. “I don’t suppose we have time for anything else.”
“No,” Mason said loudly. “We don’t.”
“No one asked you,” I snapped.
It took a few seconds, but awareness finally lit Danny’s eyes. “Ah. I didn’t know we weren’t alone.”
I winced. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” His tone said it was very much not okay. “I forgot we fuck for audiences now.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. We’d agreed to no ghosts in the house, but that rule hadn’t exactly turned out like I’d hoped. So we’d amended it a bit. If a ghost was in the room, I wasn’t allowed to lie about it. Sometimes that led to me alerting him to their presence during some… sticky situations.
I watched in silence as Danny got dressed, pulling on some jeans and a gray T-shirt with BBPD across the front in blue letters. He holstered his gun on his hip and put his badge around his neck, the silver chain glittering in the low light. I looked down at myself and realized something important.
We were pretty much wearing the exact same thing.
“I think we need to start shopping separately,” I said.
He shot me a dirty look on his way to the door. “You’re funnier when I’ve had more than three hours of sleep.”
“While your grumpiness is a delight any time of day,” I murmured to his back.
“What was that?”
“I said while you, dear, are a delight any time of day,” I said loudly.
Amusement glinted in his eyes, letting me know he’d heard me just fine. The next thing I knew, he had me pushed up against the wall. It was times like these—and only times like these—when I didn’t resent him for being half a foot taller than me. I made a soft noise of approval as he brought his hands up on either side of me, caging me in, and he proceeded to kiss me senseless. By the time he pulled back, we were both breathing hard. I wanted to lunge at him and climb him like a tree.
“You’re a horrible liar,” he said.
“Seems to be working out in my favor, though.” I tightened my grip on his waist, just in case he had any bright ideas about moving away.
He kissed me again, and I sighed with pleasure. This morning was turning out better than I thought. His taste was obliterated by mint toothpaste, but his mouth was warm and sure on mine. He anchored a hand in my hair to keep me in place, but it wasn’t necessary. I followed his lead almost instinctively, more than happy to let him set the pace.
We prided ourselves on having an equal partnership. Truthfully, I was a little more in control and we both knew it—but inside the bedroom, Danny was in charge. We both liked it that way. Needed it that way. Just as he reached for my zipper, there was a bit of delicate throat clearing. “Detectives?”
“Aw fuck,” I muttered against his mouth.
“Well, excuse me,” Mason said with a haughty sniff. “Sorry to interrupt you two playing grab ass. But I’d like to get going.”
Danny pulled back and tilted his head. “You okay?”
“Yup.” I banged the back of my head against the wall a little harder than necessary. “Just trying to figure out if it’s very medium-like to tell a ghost to shut his substantial pie hole.”
“It’s not,” Mason informed me before disappearing again.
Cockblocker. The mystery of his death was probably going to be shorter than I anticipated. I already had three reasons to kill him and I’d only known him for fifteen damn minutes.
Mason directed me through the quiet, darkened city streets with short, mostly monosyllabic instructions that I relayed to Danny. The other motorists out so early were few and got even less as Danny drove down a road that grew increasingly curvy. Dark shadowy trees loomed on either side of the road, adding to the gloom. Even the streetlights thinned out, creating a journey that was a long stretch of lonely, dark road. Just when I was about to ask if we’
d found the road to Narnia—and just where the hell was the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe—Mason inhaled swiftly.
I glanced up at him in the rearview and said softly, “Stop here.”
Danny coasted to a stop on the shoulder without comment. He put the car in park and killed the engine. In the silence, we shared an uneasy look. Beyond the curve was a sloped hill that led down to a park. From my vantage point, it didn’t look like there was much more than a few graffitied park benches and an overgrown walking trail. To the left was a lake with a rickety dock and a small ramp for boats.
I glanced at Mason again in the rearview. His gaze was trained on the park, delicate brows furrowed. He looked confused… or maybe he was remembering something unpleasant. Either way, I was ready to pass the share stick. “So this is the place?” I asked.
He started at my voice, hands jerking involuntarily in his lap. “Maybe we should go.”
“We just got here.” I turned to Danny, who was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. “He wants to leave.”
“He led us here for a reason.” Danny reached under the seat and unearthed a flashlight. It was heavy-duty, police-issue, and when he pressed the button to check the batteries, he nearly blinded me. “Let’s see it through.”
“Okay, that’s the second time this morning,” I informed him. “I’m going to need a seeing eye dog if you keep this up.”
“Like a dog could stand you. The first opportunity he got, he’d walk you straight into traffic.”
That wasn’t the least bit true. Yes, Danny’s mother had a snooty papillon who couldn’t stand me. Yes, that crazy Yorkie under the desk at the dry cleaners always barked up a storm when I came near. And yes, we once chased a suspect who had a dog in the car, and that dog came at me hard, practically foaming at the mouth. Still.
“I thought we were going to have to tase the damned thing to get him off you.” Apparently, Danny’s thoughts had followed the same pattern as mine. “You think it’s the supernatural thing? Like maybe they can sense something… off about you?”
“No. I don’t.” I glared. “And you don’t get that mean naturally. That dog was on something.”
