Mack's Perfectly Ghastly Homecoming (Mack's Marvelous Manifestations Book 2)

by AJ Sherwood

  People who had been forced to give and give and give, they lost the ability to take. I had a feeling that was what had happened with Mack. He didn’t know how to take anymore. Little things, like me helping him into a jacket, or fixing him a coffee, even that bewildered him. He could accept the little things more easily than the bigger things, though. What worried me was that I saw some pretty big problems looming, and I wasn’t sure if he’d let me help him with any of it.

  I wanted to wrap this man up in my arms and take the weight of the world off his shoulders. I knew if I tried, he’d ream me out. He was far too independent for that. And, I think, embarrassed he needed that kind of help. How did I get it through his head that needing help wasn’t something to be ashamed of? That me taking some of the burden didn’t indicate a weakness on his part? I honestly didn’t know.

  Maybe if I eased him into this? It didn’t hurt to try. I pitched my voice to the tone of whispers and night-time conversations. “Mack?”

  “Mm?”

  “I’m really worried about your mom.”

  He sighed, a hot gust of air blowing across my throat. “Me too, cher.”

  “We’re not going to have much to do during the day. Let’s go to the house and see if we can tackle things. I’d like to help her as much as I can while I’m down here.”

  Mack tensed, as I expected him to. There was a long beat and then he said, “The water heater, you mean.”

  “That’s a good start, sure.” I also held my breath, waiting for an argument.

  “The fridge, I’ll replace that.” There was a defensive tone in his voice.

  “Okay.” Yeah, not going to fight that battle. That wasn’t the point of this anyway.

  He was tense again, waiting, for several long seconds. “You’ll not argue?”

  “Honey, you make good money. And it’s your money. You want to buy your mom a fridge—and probably a new water heater—you go ahead. Just let me help install and fix what’s broken, that’s all I’m asking. Your mom’s my friend too, remember.”

  That magically seemed the right thing to say. Mack relaxed again. “That and you want to get in good with her.”

  “Well, yeah. Duh.”

  Something that might have been a snicker escaped him. “She already likes you plenty.”

  “Good to hear. Still want to help.”

  “You’re mighty stubborn, Brandon Havili.” The words were a complaint but the tone was affectionate.

  “Think of it like a family tradition.” Did I dare think that I’d won this round? It looked that way. I snuggled him a little tighter, kissing his forehead.

  Yeah. This was definitely a work in progress.

  5

  I’d lain in the circle of Brandon’s arms many a time and it was interesting, the way I reacted to it. The first time I’d done it, we’d been half-naked and coming off the high of good sex. I’d felt connected to this man, a connection I’d never felt before, and reveled in it.

  I felt that connection now. Lying in his arms, both of us fully clothed, no sex in the past forty-eight hours, and I still felt it. In fact, after thirteen weeks of being with him, I felt it more strongly than before. I lay pressed close to him, basking in the solid heat of his body, my breath matching his in pace, and I couldn’t have been more in sync with another human being if I’d tried.

  Everything Brandon did and said told me I was his top priority. Training together at Quantico had taught us how to move as a unit while on the job, and people had complimented Brandon on being so natural at watching my back. I’d found it amusing when they failed to realize he did it all the time. I wasn’t a job to him—Brandon made that clear. And the way the man looked at me—god, it was like I hung the moon and stars for him. It rattled me, sometimes. I couldn’t possibly be everything he thought I was. I was terrified of disappointing him, of proving myself a burden. I was equally terrified my emotions would fail to match his.

  I didn’t always handle it well, that fear. Sometimes he got impatient with me. Sometimes he would sigh, long and loud, and give me that speaking look suggesting I’d said something stupid. I was trying hard to be a good boyfriend to him, but it was a struggle some days.

  It was why moments like this were so precious and heartening for me. Right now, in this moment, the fears were at bay. I could relax in Brandon’s embrace and enjoy having him. I closed my eyes and settled again, slipping into a doze.

  A hyperactive four-year-old woke us up by bouncing on the air mattress. I played with Cali and helped get her ready as we all pitched in to clear the sleeping bags, eat breakfast, and all of that. Edmée had three jobs lined up to tackle, so she was out the door rather quickly, taking Cali to her sister’s to be watched.

  I poked around the house some more but even in the daylight I wasn’t able to pinpoint where that no-account ghost lurked. I suspected demolition was in our future.

  “Cher, it don’t seem to me that waiting here is going to do us much good,” I finally announced. “Whatever’s in this house is lying low with the fidgets right now. How about we step out and do something else?”

  “Sure,” he agreed equably. “We can take a look at your mother’s water heater.”

  He had promised he’d do so. I was still of two minds on it, but I had agreed. “Let’s do that.”

  So that’s what we did. We loaded up and drove the short distance to my mother’s house. My mother’s quaint little white house had no cars in the driveway as we drove up, nor did I expect to see any, not at this time of the day. Mama was at work or should be.

  The water heater had its own closet in the screened porch out back. We stepped around to the small enclosed porch and Brandon bent to it, taking a multi tool from his pocket and opening things up, looking the water heater over from top to bottom. It didn’t take long for a hiss to escape him.

  “Well, shit,” he said, straightening. “This thing’s corroded.”

  “Pretend I know nothing about water heaters,” I requested.

  Extending an arm, he drew me in closer and pointed. From the bottom of the water heater, he’d pulled out a pan that, even to my eyes, looked like it had leprosy. “That looks mighty rusty.”

  “That thing’s supposed to be a shiny pan. And the lines here, and here” —he pointed towards the top to the two lines going into the wall— “both of those are rusting too. I don’t know what’s caused this, but it’s clear to me this thing’s shot. Thermocouple, pilot, hot and cold returns, all of it needs replacing. And that’s just what I can see.”

  “Better to replace the whole unit?” I asked, frowning at it.

  “Yeah. Probably cheaper in the long run. Definitely easier. This way I can just pick up a new unit and swap them out instead of dismantling it and trying to troubleshoot every problem.” He eyed me sideways for a moment. “I think we should go through the house, make sure everything else is working.”

  I eyed him back. “You think Mama wouldn’t have told me?”

  “I think she’s as hesitant to ask for help as you are.”

  “Ouch. Am I that bad?” I threw up a hand, forestalling him. “Don’t answer that.”

  He grinned and kissed me quick on the forehead. “What else in the house is broken?”

  I remembered that late night conversation. Brandon had this compulsive need to be useful to other people. I wasn’t sure why. I just knew most of our arguments centered around him wanting to help and me not needing it. I think he expected an argument here—he looked braced for it—but in truth, I didn’t want to argue. He was right. My mother was his friend, too, and we were both worried about her. If he wanted to help her, far be it for me to argue. It still grated my pride a mite that his help was needed, though. Because of that I grudgingly answered, “Mama’s bedroom ceiling fan is hanging by the wires. You know about the fridge. Her kitchen sink has leaked since the day she bought the place.”

  Brandon kept looking at me steadily with those amber-gold eyes of his. “That it?”

  “Those are the
major ones you can do in a few hours or a few days, yeah. Really, the whole house needs re-painting and new carpet put in. But we don’t have that kind of time.”

  “True. Alright, let’s tackle what we can.”

  He moved into the house proper. I fetched him a tape measure from the small tool box Mama kept tucked away, and he used that to measure things. His phone came out as he took notes of what to buy. I kept looking at his expression, trying to read what he felt or thought about all of this extra work. He never once looked troubled or exasperated with the requests. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  Most of the men in my family and acquaintance would’ve had more than a choice word to say about being handed projects like this. My father, before he died, would bellow if you asked him to help open a jar. My brothers are much like him. I knew the Havilis didn’t look at the world in the same way, I’d been around them enough to see that, but still. Didn’t it rankle on some level that I was asking him to help people who weren’t even family to him?

  He stopped tapping notes into his phone and regarded me the same way I was regarding him. “You forget to mention something?”

  I didn’t hear or see annoyance. I didn’t see aggravation. He wasn’t hiding those emotions from me—his face was open and readable—I just didn’t see the emotions I was looking for. “Isn’t this too much work, cher?”

  Catching my waist, he pulled me in and kissed me gently, soothingly. I hummed into the kiss, leaning up on tiptoes to reach him better. It was always lovely kissing Brandon. I felt his affection through every touch.

  “You are never too much work,” he breathed over my mouth. “Your mother, your family, they’re not too much work either. I want to fix this, Mack. All of it, everything that’s wrong. I want to do that for you and your mom because I don’t want you worrying about her. I don’t want her stressed. I want peace of mind for both of you.”

  “I must have saved a nation in a previous life to deserve you,” I whispered, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

  He snorted, amused. “Other way around, honey. Now, is there something else needing to be fixed?”

  “We probably don’t have the time for it.” Despite what he said, I really felt like a burden at the moment, and the feeling rankled. He was already doing so much.

  “Okay. What is it?”’

  Not letting me off the hook, was he. I eyed him but he held his ground, meeting my gaze steadily. I knew he wouldn’t let it go until he had an answer. “Mama wants to repaint some of the rooms. We had black mold in the house when she first bought it. We got rid of the mold, but the stains remained.”

  “Then let’s pick up paint while we’re out. Even if we don’t get to it, she’ll have the supplies to do it herself.”

  I felt that was a good compromise. After all, I’d be paying for all of this. I nodded in acceptance. “Can we surprise her?”

  “We can sure try. She’s got, what, another six hours before she gets home? If we move quick, I can get the water heater and kitchen sink fixed.”

  I blinked, surprised by this estimate. “You think? What’s wrong with the kitchen sink, then?”

  “Faucet’s just old. It’s lost its seals.” He kissed me again, quick and light, then urged me toward the door. “Let’s shop quick. You think you can guess what colors she wants the different rooms painted?”

  I owed this man kinky sex later. I didn’t know when or where I’d find the necessary privacy to do that, but he definitely deserved it. I shook my head and got my mind back to the present. “I don’t need to guess. She’s been talking about it for years, daydreaming about colors.”

  “Good. I know better than to try to guess a woman’s taste in either decorations or perfumes.”

  I laughed. “You are wise.”

  We stepped back out and into the car. As we moved, my phone rang and I pulled it free to see the screen. Oh good. “Hi, Sylvia.”

  “Mack. How are things going?”

  “I can sense the ghost but it’s not coming out so far. Cali—that’s my young cousin—she said the ghost told her it’s his house and she was to get out.”

  “Oh-ho. That’s good intel. What else?”

  “I have a bad suspicion he’s attached to something in the house, or something buried in the walls of the house. House is at least sixty years old by the look of it. Boss, we might have to tear into it.”

  “I’ll put in an expected expense report ahead of time. We can fix what you have to break.”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief even as I buckled in. “We can do that?”

  “You’re new to the PADs division of the FBI, so you probably don’t know this yet. But we break a lot of stuff.”

  She was so deadpan I busted out laughing. “Do tell.”

  “Next time, when we have time to swap stories. Alright, take pictures of the area for me. That’ll help me write up the expense report. I actually called to not only check in but tell you I’ve got a team heading your direction. They’re wrapping up a case now, but I expect them to be at the campus in about three or four days. I’ll give you a better ETA when they leave.”

  “That sounds mighty fine, Sylvia, merci. This expense report, does it cover us buying tools down here to work with?”

  “It most certainly does as long as you give me the receipt.”

  “We’re on our way to a hardware store. I’ll shoot you a picture of the receipt shortly.” I had an idea in mind that we could possibly do some less invasive investigation. If nothing else, possibly rattle the ghost enough it chose to come out and face me.

  “How are you and Brandon doing down there?” Sylvia sounded honestly worried.

  “So far, so good. No trouble to report.”

  A soft sigh of relief. “Good. Let me know if that changes. I don’t think anyone sane would get in Brandon’s face, but you never know.”

  “Truly,” I agreed fervently. It would be like tackling a sumo wrestler. Took a special brand of crazy to do that.

  “I’ll let you go. Report in regularly so I know what’s going on.”

  “Roger that.” I hung up and said to my partner, “There’s another hardware store in town, cher. How do you want to play this?”

  “I don’t want to buy the fridge, fan, or water heater from your mom’s hardware store. Let’s surprise her. But we can buy a few diagnostic tools from hers and give us a chance to see her.”

  “Not to mention some business. Alright, let’s do that.” And perhaps I could sound her out a touch on where that money I’d sent her had gone.

  6

  I had to buy more than the elements to replace things with, of course. I had no tools on me so we had to buy those as well. It came out to a pretty penny but Mack paid it without a flinch. I had a feeling he’d been saving up to do this very thing. He might not have intended for me to do the work, but he’d always intended for the work to be done.

  As we pulled into the driveway, I saw the side door leading into the kitchen propped open, which was strange. We’d locked up before leaving for the store, so why...?

  Mack didn’t look all that surprised. Growling, he snapped the belt off and got out of the car before I could even put it fully into park. That wasn’t a good sign either and foreboding rolled in my stomach as I quickly followed him inside.

  I heard them before I could get eyes on the situation. Mack sounded like a kettle going off.

  “Georgie, I just knew it was you. You will not steal the food out of our mother’s mouth. Put that back in the fridge immediately.”

  Oh hell. I cleared the two steps up into the kitchen in a single bound and stopped there, getting my bearings.

  The resemblance was there, if you looked closely enough. Same-colored eyes, same curly dark hair. Georgie was stouter with a beer belly, patchy beard, and stained clothes that had definitely seen better days. He glared at Mack as if my boyfriend was evil incarnate and something vile he’d just peeled off his boot. I more or less hated him instantly.

  “I can eat at m
y mother’s house!” Georgie snapped, sounding like a smoker with raw vocal chords.

  “You can’t eat at her house when she’s barely managing to feed herself!” Mack fired back, putting himself directly in Georgie’s face. It made my hands twitch, as I didn’t like him being that close. “You can’t keep stealing from her when she’s already become skin and bones trying to support you and her. You’re the eldest son, Georgie. Fucking act like it!”

  “Oh, so now you’ve become a federal agent and all y’all think you’re better than me?” Georgie sneered. “I ain’t the one begging for it. What’d you have to do to get him, get on your hands and knees and—”

  I wasn’t about to let him finish that sentence. No brother should ever speak to another sibling that way. I darted from the doorway and grabbed him by the throat. I had to restrict his airway before he said something truly unforgiveable and I was forced to really hurt him. I slammed Georgie back and up onto the wall. Not hard enough to dent the sheetrock, but close enough. He gasped on impact, true fear in his eyes, his hands scrambling at my wrist, feet for the floor. It was like a child trying to pry me off. He had no strength. Did this piece of shit just mouth off and drink all day?

  Actually, that was probably the case.

  “You apologize and behave, Georgie, and I’ll let you go.”

  Meanness flashed in his eyes. “I’m not going to apologize to that—guh.”

  It’d been a mistake to let off his airway. “Georgie, let me explain this a different way. I handle the living. Mack handles the dead. Which would you rather be, living or dead?”

  Now he got it. I could see it in the way the white of his eyes shone. Easing my grip so he could breathe, and speak, I asked again. “Are you going to behave and all that entails, or do I throw your ass out?”