Ghost Hunter

by Paige Tyler

  Since someone could see them breaking and entering through the front door, Trace led her around to the back of the house. When they got there, he pulled out a set of lockpicks and dropped to one knee in front of the door. He wiggled the pick around in the lock until he felt it give, then pushed it open.

  Putting the set of picks back in his pocket, Trace took out two flashlights from his duffel bag and handed one to Cassidy before they went inside. He played his flashlight around the kitchen. He was right about the Formica table. The refrigerator, however, wasn’t pastel-colored, but plain old white.

  Trace figured Joyce Reynolds and her son would be gone at least a couple hours, but he didn’t want them coming home to find him and Cassidy snooping around, so they needed to work as quickly as possible. Since it wasn’t likely Dillon would hide anything downstairs where his mother could easily find it, Trace led Cassidy directly upstairs.

  There were two bedrooms on the second floor, as well as a tiny bathroom. If he’d been with Wes, they would have each taken a bedroom to search, but he wanted to keep Cassidy close. If they came up empty in Dillon’s room, they could always check the rest of the house.

  If the black clothes, piercings and eyeliner didn’t tell Trace the kid was a little off, Dillon’s bedroom would have. The walls and ceiling were painted black with splashes of dark red that reminded Trace of the blood spatter he’d seen at so many crime scenes back when he was a cop. The bed, nightstands and desk were black too, as were the heavy drapes covering the windows. There were the requisite posters Trace would expect to see in a teenager’s bedroom, only instead of hot girls in bikinis and muscle cars, Dillon had pictures of graveyards, skulls and Goth bands.

  “Why don’t you take the desk and bookshelf?” Trace suggested. “I’ll check the closet and dresser.”

  Cassidy nodded and headed over to the desk while he opened the closet. Not surprisingly, it was filled with black clothes and two more pairs of tanker boots. He yanked open the topmost drawer on the dresser and was about to search through it when Cassidy let out a startled gasp. He glanced over his shoulder to see her staring at the bookshelf, a look of horror on her face.

  “Did you find something?” he asked, crossing the room to stand beside her.

  She glanced at him. “Something gross. Look.”

  He followed the beam of her flashlight as she shone it on the row of jars on the shelf. While most teens had comic books or CDs in their room, Dillon kept jars of preserved bugs, lizards and frogs.

  “Freaky, I’ll admit,” he said. “Unfortunately, none of them are human.”

  He and Cassidy spent the next ten minutes digging through every drawer in the room, but still came up empty. Thinking there might be something hidden underneath the mattress, he lifted it up. His mouth twitched at the collection of porno magazines underneath. Good to know Dillon Reynolds was at least seminormal.

  Trace dropped the mattress and turned to Cassidy. “There’s nothing in here. Let’s take a quick look in Joyce Reynolds’ room, then check out DelVecchio’s bedroom before we get out of here. It’s a long shot, but maybe the kid stashed something in one of them.”

  Like the living room, Joyce Reynolds’ bedroom was straight out of a bygone era with its garish flower-print wallpaper and old-fashioned four-poster bed. There was a stack of crossword puzzle books on the nightstand and a huge knitting basket beside the bed that looked as if it was filled with every color yarn known to man. Cassidy searched the two dressers while Trace took the closet. Besides the usual clothes and shoes, there was a ridiculous amount of handbags as well as dozens of hat boxes, but he didn’t find anything that looked as if it belonged to Del Vecchio. He dug through the knitting basket next, but didn’t see anything other than a half-finished sweater. He even looked under the bed, but the place was clean.

  “Anything?” he asked Cassidy.

  She closed the last drawer with a shake of her head. “Nothing.”

  “Let’s go down to the basement then.”

  Trace scanned Joyce Reynolds’ bedroom to make sure they’d left everything the way they’d found it before they headed downstairs.

  Trace thought Cassidy might be uncomfortable going in Del Vecchio’s bedroom, but to his surprise, she nodded. Once they got down to the basement, however, she hesitated halfway down the steps.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She gave him a wan smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Why don’t you wait here while I look around?”

  “It’s okay. I can help you.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded.

  Del Vecchio’s bedroom looked like a bastion of sanity compared to Dillon’s Goth-inspired one. If someone had asked Trace to guess which of the rooms belonged to the serial killer, he would have said the younger brother’s without hesitation. Whereas Dillon’s bedroom was dark and macabre, Del Vecchio’s was the complete opposite.

  Trace wasn’t surprised when he and Cassidy didn’t find anything. It wasn’t as if Del Vecchio had been planning for his own demise and subsequent ghostly return by leaving pieces of himself behind. If he’d left anything, ghostly related or otherwise, either Mommy Dearest or the cops would already have taken it.

  When they finished searching the room, Trace reached into the duffel bag on his shoulder and pulled out his EMF detector.

  “Oh God,” Cassidy said, glancing over her shoulder and taking a step closer to him. “Is Del Vecchio here?”

  Trace shook his head. “I just want to see if he was.”

  He turned it on and waited, but the needle didn’t move even a little. Del Vecchio hadn’t come back to the house since he had become a ghost.

  Trace swore silently and tossed the detector back in the bag without bothering to turn it off. If Joyce Reynolds or her son Dillon had kept anything from Del Vecchio, they weren’t keeping it here. Shit. He was no closer to getting rid of the bastard than he was when Cassidy had first come to him for help.

  “Come on,” he said to Cassidy. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Upstairs, Trace did one more quick glance around to make sure they hadn’t disturbed anything, then ushered Cassidy out the back door. They’d almost made it back to the SUV when the EMF detector in the duffel bag went off. Trace spun around to see Del Vecchio standing behind them, looking more solid than any ghost had a right to look.

  Shoving Cassidy behind him with one hand, Trace reached under his jacket for the sawed-off shotgun with the other. The sight of the weapon was usually enough to make most ghosts hesitate for a minute, but Del Vecchio went straight for Cassidy as if Trace wasn’t even there. Praying Del Vecchio reacted to rock salt and hematite the same as every other ghost he’d encountered, Trace squeezed the trigger. Del Vecchio disappeared with a howl and a flash of light.

  Damn, that had been close. Trace didn’t even want to think how much closer Del Vecchio’s ghost would have gotten if he hadn’t left the EMF detector on.

  Trace turned to Cassidy. She was trembling, her face ashen in the light coming from the streetlamp. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, but at the moment it was more important to get her somewhere safe in case Del Vecchio showed up again. Besides, front porch lights were going on all over the neighborhood. Obviously shotgun blasts weren’t a normal occurrence in this area. In another minute, the place would probably be crawling with cops.

  Holding onto the shotgun with one hand, he took Cassidy’s arm with the other and hustled her into the Hummer, then got in beside her and cranked the engine.

  “We don’t have to worry about him getting in here, do we?” she asked anxiously.

  Trace shook his head as he pulled away from the curb. “No. The metal will keep him out.”

  She nodded, but still look worried. “How the heck did he find me again?”

  “I wish to hell I knew.” Trace reached across the console to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “But the important thing is that I blasted him before he could get to you.”

  S
he gave him a weak smile, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she stared out the window and chewed nervously on her lower lip.

  Trace tightened his grip on the wheel. He hated seeing Cassidy so frightened, but hated even more that he couldn’t figure out a way to rid her world of that serial killing psychopath’s ghost once and for all. There had to be something he was missing, something he wasn’t seeing. But he was damn well going to find it and when he did, he was going to enjoy sending that asshole Del Vecchio back to hell where he belonged.

  By the time they got back to the warehouse, Cassidy seemed more relaxed. Or at least Trace thought she was. Once they went inside, though, she immediately headed for the kitchen, muttering something about making tea. Trace wasn’t a big tea drinker, so he assumed Cassidy must have asked Bella to pick up some when she went shopping. He frowned when he saw how much Cassidy’s hand was still shaking as she took out two mugs and set them on the counter.

  He dropped his duffel bag on the floor and walked into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist and gently pulled her against him. “You’re still freaked out about seeing Del Vecchio, aren’t you?”

  “A little bit.” She wrapped her arms around his and leaned back against his chest. “I don’t understand how he keeps finding me no matter where I go. I’m as much at his mercy now as I was that night in my apartment when he killed Darcy.” She turned in Trace’s arms to look up at him. “What if you can’t find a way to stop him? What if this is never over?”

  Trace reached up to gently brush her hair back from her face. “It will be. I’ll find a way to stop him, Cassidy. I promise. I want you to promise me something, too.”

  She eyed him warily. “What?”

  “That you’ll stop thinking about Del Vecchio. At least for tonight.”

  Her lips curved into a rueful smile. “That’s a lot easier said than done.”

  “I kinda figured that. I know something that might help, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This,” he said, bending his head to kiss her.

  Trace only intended to give her a gentle, comforting kiss to make her feel safe so she could curl up on the couch and work on her romance novel without worrying about Del Vecchio while he hit the books. But one taste of those sweet lips and he knew any research would have to wait. His desire for her couldn’t. The way she was kissing him back made him think she needed him just as much.

  Sliding his hands beneath her top, he lifted it over her head. She was wearing a black satin bra under it and he almost groaned when he saw her nipples harden to stiff little peaks against the material. He teased them with the pads of his thumbs, making small circles on the tips before reaching around to undo the clasp of her bra. Her breasts spilled into his waiting hands and he cupped them gently as he bent to take one rosy nipple in his mouth.

  Cassidy caught her breath and buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him tighter to her breast. Knowing she was as excited as he was turned him on even more and he suckled her nipple with a groan before releasing it so he could give equal attention to its twin. He swirled his tongue round and round, loving the sounds of pleasure she made. He took his time, moving back and forth from one nipple to the other, doing everything in his power to make her completely forget Del Vecchio ever existed.

  As much as Trace loved feasting on her breasts, though, he urgently needed to be inside her. His hard cock was already straining against his jeans uncomfortably, demanding to be released. He briefly considered picking her up and taking her into the bedroom, but he wasn’t sure he could make it that far.

  Lifting his head from her breasts, he slid his hands down her taut tummy to the waistband of her jeans. Tugging at the buttons, he pushed them over her curvy hips along with the tiny, bikini panties she wore until they were at mid-thigh, then he grasped her waist and picked her up so he could set her on the counter. Taking off her sandals, he dragged off her jeans and panties and tossed them on the floor, too.

  Trace ran his gaze over Cassidy’s naked body, mesmerized by her creamy skin and sexy curves. God, she was perfect.

  He might have stood transfixed by her nakedness all night if Cassidy hadn’t reached out and pulled him toward her so she could take off his shirt. Tossing it on the floor, she grabbed him and tugged him close for a kiss.

  Trace slid his hands into her hair, groaning as he felt her unbutton his fly. She shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down far enough to free his rock-hard cock. Wrapping her hand around it, she stroked him up and down. Damn. A few more seconds of that and he was going to come all over her hand.

  Dragging his mouth away from hers, he cupped her bottom and slid her closer to the edge of the counter. He positioned his shaft at the opening of her pussy and rubbed the head up and down her slit a few times. Even that was enough to drive him crazy and he grabbed her ass cheeks to plunge himself inside her with one smooth thrust.

  Cassidy gasped, her arms and legs going around him, pulling him in deep. Her pussy was so tight that it was all he could do not to explode on the spot.

  Sucking in a ragged breath, he tightened his grip on her ass and slowly pumped in and out. Cassidy immediately began moving her hips in time with his so her pussy clenched around him each time he thrust.

  He didn’t rush, but moved with agonizing slowness, letting his cock pulse deep inside her for long moments at the end of each thrust. It took every ounce of his control to make love to her this way, but he wanted her climax to be perfect.

  Apparently, Cassidy had other ideas because she began to urge him to pick up the pace. “Faster,” she whispered. “Go faster.”

  He chuckled as he brushed his mouth against hers. “Not yet. I like seeing you go crazy like this.”

  She grinned. “Let’s see who goes crazy first then.”

  Cassidy leaned back to rest her elbows on the counter and slowly rotated her hips in circular motions. Her pussy squeezed his cock with each undulation and he groaned as he fought to control his rising climax. Her lips curved in satisfaction at the sound.

  “Who’s driving whom crazy now?”

  Trace grunted. “Okay. You win.”

  He gave up even trying to hold back anymore and with a growl, he grabbed her hips tightly and yanked her against him, pounding into her as hard as he could.

  Cassidy caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted. Oh God, Trace, don’t stop.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw as he fought off the tidal wave of ecstasy threatening to push him over the edge. He had to hold out until she came. Just when he was sure he couldn’t control himself any longer, Cassidy threw back her head and cried out in pleasure.

  Free to let the dam inside him burst, Trace finally allowed his orgasm to wash over him. He came so hard he thought his legs might actually give out and he held onto Cassidy more tightly, burying his face in her neck with a hoarse groan.

  No matter how many other women he had sex with after tonight, none of them would ever compare to Cassidy and how good it was with her. She was definitely one of a kind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Although Trace was doing his best to hide it, Cassidy knew he was as worried about Del Vecchio as she was. Making love might have taken her mind off the serial killer’s ghost for a few hours last night, but she wasn’t so sure it had done the same for Trace. After the mind-blowing sex they’d had in the kitchen, he had taken her into the bedroom for an encore that had left her so dizzy with pleasure she could barely even remember her own name. Yet the moment he thought she was asleep, he’d pressed a kiss to her cheek, then slipped out of bed to do more research.

  She’d wanted to go sit on the couch beside him while he worked, but knew if she did, he would think he was keeping her up and insist they both go back to bed. So she’d lain in bed and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the clicking of the keyboard as he typed one thing after another into the computer. Every time he got up from the couch, she’d think he was coming back to b
ed, but then she would hear him grab another book from the shelf and knew he would be up for at least a couple more hours.

  Cassidy had been sure she wouldn’t fall asleep until Trace finally came to bed, but she must have dozed off because the next thing she knew it was morning and she was curled up in his arms. She hadn’t even had any nightmares.

  She rolled over onto her side to give him a kiss, then propped herself up on an elbow. “What time did you finally come to bed last night?”

  “Around two, I guess.” He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t keep you up, did I?”

  She shook her head. “Did you learn anything that might help?”

  “Maybe. How about I tell you over breakfast? I’m starving.”

  Cassidy considered putting on the tank top and shorts she usually slept in, but she found herself reaching for the sweatshirt Trace had given her to wear that first night and pulling it on instead. He must have approved of her choice in clothing because he gave her bare legs an appreciative look when she padded into the kitchen a few minutes later.

  She watched as he cracked an egg into a beat-up plastic mixing bowl. “What are you doing?”

  “Making breakfast.” He grinned. “I figured it was my turn to cook.”

  “That’s very sweet of you.

  Can I do anything to help?”

  The corner of his mouth edged up. “Just stand there and look beautiful.”

  Damn, he always knew what to say. “I can do that.”

  Leaning back against the counter watching Trace make scrambled eggs, she could almost forget there was a depraved serial killer’s ghost outside the fortified walls of the warehouse waiting to get his hands on her. Although she’d been frightened when Del Vecchio’s ghost had appeared out of thin air again last night, she hadn’t been nearly as terrified with Trace there to protect her this time. She realized now that she’d been as afraid for him as she was for herself. While she loved having a hot guy like Trace as her personal bodyguard, she was concerned for him, too. If Del Vecchio wanted to get to her as badly as he seemed to, then he was eventually going to eliminate whoever was keeping him from her. Just thinking about what that psycho might do to Trace made it hard to breathe. She hoped Trace could figure out a way to stop him before that happened.