The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  Edward grinned again. “I know’d Ry all his life. Ry’s, ma son.”

  “What?” Giselle said, startled. Ry nodded.

  “He’s not but he is, ya see?” Edward said.

  Giselle shook her head. She didn’t see at all.

  “Well, it’s powerful hard ta explain. Ya only gotta look into Ry’s eyes and ya can see ma own William look back. William, he passed on in eighteen ninty-nine, but then he don got hisself born again. So ma boy’s back.” Edward smiled broadly as his chest puffed out with pride.

  Ry smiled at him in return.

  “Does that mean his mother is somehow related to you too?” Giselle asked tentatively. But not tentative enough. It raised serious hackles.

  “It does not. I’s got nothing ta do with that woman, and never will have if I got anything ta do wit it. I only spoke to her last night because you was in trouble, miss. An I ain’t wantin’ to repeat tha’ experience.”

  “My mother and Edward don’t get along. My mother liked to have Edward and me perform for her clients when I was a kid. I put a stop to it when I turned fifteen. I didn’t want to be used like that. It was degrading. And I certainly didn’t want to have Edward subjected to it.” The memory seemed to have a powerful effect on Ry’s emotions, but he forced himself to choke out the words. “I’m sorry I ever let her treat you like that, Edward,” he said.

  “It okay, boy.”

  “No, it’s not. If she hadn’t done it, you might have been able to move on to the next life. Instead, she convinced you that you should stay here to look after me. That’s why I’ve stayed away so long. I wanted you to be free to go.” Ry’s head bowed and Giselle could see a tear slip down his cheek.

  “That there’s the stupidest thin’ I ever did hear,” Edward said angrily. Suddenly the kindly old man took on the mantle of one seriously enraged father, chastising a misbehaving son. “You got nothing ta do with ma stayin’ here. I don already tol ya. I likes it here. I got no reason to go. And don’ ya dare tell me I’s not free ta stay here if’n I want ta.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Ry sputtered.

  “Then that there is settled.” Edward clapped his hands together once in a loud crack. “Now y’all go home. You is both fallin’ down with tired.” Ry and Giselle nodded. “But don’ forget the puppies.”

  “By the look on Giselle’s face, I don’t think there’s any chance of that.” Ry chuckled.

  “An don’ you get into any more scrapes, Miss Giselle. Your grandma don’ like it.”

  “What?” Giselle said, eyes wide.

  “Naw. She say it getting too hard on her ta look afta’ ya when ya’s always gettin’ in trouble.”

  Giselle glanced around the room, half expecting to see her dead grandmother there. She didn’t. “Are you saying that you’ve met my grandmother, Edward?”

  “Yessum. She’s ’round ya from time ta time. She’s here now. And she’s lookin’ mighty fine.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Giselle said.

  “She say she loves ya.”

  Giselle frowned. “That doesn’t sound like my grandma.”

  “And she say, if’n ya’d stop eatin’ so many dang cookies yor behind—’scuse me, miss, I’s quotin’ here—wouldna be so big.”

  “That’s my grandma.”

  Edward posed with Ry for photographs with a wide smile on his face. Even though she knew he didn’t have the substance of a corporeal body, it still surprised Giselle that the image on the digital readout of her camera merely showed a wisp of fog with vaguely discernable features in the place where Edward should have been.

  It was Monday afternoon at 3:36 p.m. Giselle had her ghost. But would she be able to write the article in time? She was very tired. Perhaps if she stopped for some cookies on the way to Ry’s house, they would fortify her. Never mind what Grandma said. Giselle knew her behind was not too big.

  A Girl, a Guy and a Ghost: Chapter Twenty

  It was Monday at 5:30 p.m. Giselle whistled as she strolled down Broughton Street toward Ry’s office. She had love, and she had success. What more could a girl ask for?

  The Scooby Doo theme sang out. Giselle didn’t even look at the caller ID. Let it be Willie. What did she care?

  “This is Giselle, ghosthunter extraordinaire,” she trilled into the cell, still striding along.

  “Giselle? It’s me. Mary Ellen.” Her friend’s voice sounded strange. Giselle felt a wave of guilt. Wow. Giselle hadn’t remembered to call Mary Ellen to let her know everything had turned out okay…great really. Super great. Giselle was a bad friend. What was that? Like the fourth time this weekend?

  “Hey, M. I’m so sorry I didn’t call.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  Giselle realized that her friend was crying. She stopped cold on the sidewalk. “Oh, honey. What’s the matter?”

  “Mmmllfffwwaaarrr.”

  “What?”

  “My life is overrrrrrr,” Mary Ellen gulped. Then she sobbed out, “Dexter broke up with me this morninggggg. Aaaahhhh.” She cried harder now.

  “That creep. Why?”

  Her friend hicked a couple of times. “He said it’s all around townnn.” More hicking. “Everyone in Savannah is saying I used to be a mannnnn. That I had a sex change.”

  Omigod. Dammit.

  “They think I was a mannnn. Dexter says he can’t love anyone who used to be a mannnnn.” More sobbing. “How could such a rumor get started?”

  Giselle thought back to this morning and what she’d said to Lester. Double Dammit. “Honey, I have no idea.” Liar. “But I’m going to come over in a bit, and I’m going to fix everything. Okay?”

  “O.” Hick. Hick. “Kay.” Hick.

  Giselle heard, “Oh, Dexterrrrrrr,” and more sobbing as she snapped the phone shut. Giselle was a bad, bad, bad, bad friend. No. No. Somehow she’d fix it later. Crap, somehow she’d have to explain and make all this up to Mary Ellen. She’d be a good friend from now on.

  A few minutes later, Giselle ran up the narrow steps to Ry’s office, knocked once on the door and threw it open. She struck what she hoped was a sexy pose in the doorway, pulling up the hem of her skirt to show some upper thigh.

  “Hi, big boy,” Giselle said.

  Ry sat behind his desk with his laptop open in front of him. Glancing up, he smiled. “Hi there, gorgeous.”

  “You better not be looking at internet porn.” She giggled and came around the desk, peering down at the monitor. “I would probably track the skank down and scratch her eyes out.”

  He turned toward her in the chair. “No porn. You’re as much action as a guy can handle in a twenty-four-hour period.” Ry put his hands on her hips and twisted her around then tugged Giselle down onto his lap.

  She straddled his hips, her knees on either side of his legs. Giselle felt his strong denim-covered thighs against her bare skin as her flouncy skirt rode up. She wiggled to get closer to him. His arousal nudged at the heart of her.

  “Oh. You are a big boy.” She wiggled again. The chair lurched dangerously but this time it didn’t fall over.

  Ry seemed unconcerned about whether the two of them would topple to the floor again. His wondrous green eyes looked into hers. Giselle dropped a quick kiss on his lips.

  “Your grandmother was so wrong about your behind.” Ry pinched her cheek, but not the one on her face. “I think it’s perfect, along with a couple of other body parts.” He ran his hands from her hips up her back and around to squeeze her breasts.

  “These are perfection.” One hand moved over her cleavage and down her shirt to fondle her.

  Giselle gasped. She would never get used to how fast this man could arouse her every nerve ending.

  “Nice to know I’m appreciated,” she murmured. “I can name at least one of your body parts, I’m pretty darn happy with, too.”

  “Believe me. I appreciate all of you.” His voice was velvet huskiness. “And I plan to appreciate you repeatedly.”

  Ry’s
hand had twisted and caught in her hair, and as she moved, her fiery curls hugged his fingers.

  “I love your hair,” Ry said. “It’s so alive…like you. I almost expect it to burn me when I touch it.”

  “What do you mean I’m alive?” Giselle hoped it meant something about her being beautiful.

  The edge of his thumb caressed her cheekbone as he gazed at her. “I mean zany, funny.” He laughed. “You say, and do, the most unexpected things.”

  That didn’t sound anything like a compliment to her beauty.

  Her expression must have given away her displeasure because he hurriedly continued. “I’m not explaining very well… You just vibrate an energy. You’re…extraordinary.”

  She knew she was pouting but she couldn’t help it.

  “And extraordinarily good in bed,” he added.

  Just with him…but she wasn’t going to say that. Still nothing about her looks.

  “And beautiful,” he finally added.

  “Thanks for the afterthought.”

  Taking her by the shoulders, he gave her a little shake. “You’re beautiful and you should know it. But there are plenty of beauties out there. I have a feeling there’s just one Giselle.

  “Awwww. Thank you,” she said, pressing a quick kiss on his lips to hide the moistness in her eyes. “Give me your hand,” she said.

  “That sounds promising. What are you going to do with it?” Ry waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he held out his hand.

  “Not that.” Her lips quirked. Reaching around him, to her purse on the desk where it had fallen, Giselle retrieved a thumb drive from inside and put it into his now-upturned palm.

  “What’s on this?”

  “The article. It’s done. But I haven’t filed it with the magazine and I’m not going to.” She took a nibble of Ry’s neck.

  He pulled her upright, a frown etching his face. “After all we’ve gone through?”

  Giselle framed Ry’s face with her hands. “I know how difficult it was for you to use your psychic abilities and contact Edward again. I know you did it for me. But if the article is published, it’ll all be so public. You’d hate it.”

  Ry opened his mouth to speak and Giselle put the fingers of her right hand to his lips. “Shhh. You know it’s true. I just can’t do it to you or to us. I can’t exploit what we feel for one another for the sake of a job. No job is worth that.”

  Taking Giselle’s hand away in his, he kissed the tips of her fingers one at a time. “Have I told you that you’re wonderful?”

  “Yes, but you can never say it too many times,” she teased.

  He turned the two of them in the chair and stuck the thumb drive into the USB port of the PC. Giselle watched in amazement as Ry uploaded the story and pictures and sent the package to Willie’s email address.

  “Why did you do that?”

  It took Ry a minute to respond. “I felt like such a freak when I was a teenager because of all the teasing I took about my talent. Even as an adult, some of my so-called friends couldn’t help but have fun with the freak sometimes.”

  His lips compressed into a flat line. “It made me ashamed of my mother. It made me ashamed of myself. I want you to have the article published because I’m not going to be ashamed anymore.”

  Gazing into her eyes again, his bitable lips formed a sexy smile. “Besides, you deserve to publish that article. You found the ghost. You wrote the article, and you should be able to keep the job.”

  “Are you saying you still want me to leave Savannah?”

  “The opposite. I want you to stay in Savannah and…” He gulped. “Marry me.” He gulped again. “But I want you to have a choice about staying.”

  A warm fire began in Giselle’s chest at his words, even if they had been said between gulps. She could barely choke out a response.

  “Don’t worry. I’m staying in Savannah. I’m not going to let you get away.” Her voice grew stronger. “But I’m not sure about marriage. Aside from the fact that we haven’t even known each other a week, there’s the fact neither of us has ventured to say the 'L' word,” she said seriously.

  When he would have interrupted, she stopped him. “Besides, I understand, from the best authority, that a mother-in-law can make your life hell. No offense, but it’s going to take a lot of convincing, on your part, for me to think that marriage is worth the sacrifice.”

  His arms closed around her hips and he pulled her even closer. “If that’s the case, I’d better start now.” His lips covered hers in a slow, delicious kiss. His tongue licked at her tongue as the kiss deepened.

  Giselle pulled away from the kiss breathless. That was a good start,” she said. He really was scrumptious. “Let’s see how you finish.”

  A Girl, a Guy and a Ghost: Chapter Epilogue

  A month later Giselle still hadn’t agreed to marry Ry. Why put an end to all that convincing Ry excelled in? And Giselle didn’t feel the need to have a cow for a mother-in-law when she got the bull for free. Besides, the bull seemed pretty happy with the arrangement too, for now. Giselle probably would marry Ry…eventually.

  She still had her job at Ghosthunter Magazine. Willie had loved the article. When asked, he would grumble that it was just “okay,” but that meant he loved it. He had even suggested a sequel. Good thing, too, because there was no way Giselle would leave Savannah. She could work for the magazine while based here. In fact, working from Savannah would be an improvement. Savannah had the reputation for being the most haunted city in America, after all. She’d be able to find great information for a whole series of articles in Savannah.

  Now that Giselle had her own psychic detective, it didn’t matter that she had no psychic abilities of her own. Who said it wasn’t easy hunting ghosts?

  THE END

  About the Author

  Patricia Mason

  Patricia Mason is the award-winning author of steamy romantic suspense, paranormal romance and urban fantasy fiction. Pat escaped from the Midwest winters of her youth by moving to the strange and wonderful city of Savannah, Georgia. She now lives there, happily spending her days as the subject of mind control experimentation by her cat overlords. You can learn more about Pat and her work at her websites www.patriciamason.net and www.agirlwithacomputer.blogspot.com.

  Twitter: @prmason and @confuciuscat

  More books by Patricia Mason:

  In Deep Shitake

  A Very Shitake Christmas

  DEATHBLOW

  by Dana Marton

  Deathblow: Chapter One

  The worst time for a police cruiser to fly off a bridge was when you were handcuffed in the back. Joe Kessler braced as the Hummer crashed into the cruiser from behind for the final time and sent the brand-new Crown Victoria over the railing.

  The two Philly cops up front—the driver Irish-looking, the other one black—yelled all the way down, “Hang on! Hang on! Oh hell, dammit!”

  Joe and Lil’ Gomez, free-flying in the back, swore more colorfully than that as the car hit the Schuylkill River with a bone-rattling crash. Joe smashed into the metal screen that separated him from the scrambling officers, Lil’ Gomez on top of him, the kid’s pointy elbow slamming into Joe’s cheekbone.

  God, he hated undercover work.

  Then the rear end of the car slammed down, and they dropped back into their seat, Lil’ Gomez still swearing, the driver shouting into his radio unit, “Officers in the water! Men in the water! We went off the bridge!”

  Joe pushed the scrambling kid aside. “Hey! Let us out!” He kicked hard at the door that didn’t budge. “Let us out, dammit!” But the officers paid no attention to him as the cruiser began sinking.

  The river churned in the dark night around them, swollen from the spring rains. The cop in the driver’s seat jabbed at the window button by his side, his partner doing the same, grunting, hurrying to roll the glass down before the water could short out the electrical system.

  “Hey!” Joe banged against the back door in vain; everything
was controlled from the front in a police cruiser.

  He glanced at Lil’ Gomez as the scrawny teenager beat against the glass on his side, cussing at the cops, his brown eyes filled with panic. Then the front windows were down at last, the cops tearing at their seat belts.

  Oh hell.

  “Undercover officer.” Joe gritted his teeth. A month of undercover work down the drain. His gaze met the driver’s in the rearview mirror, and he shouted louder. “I’m an undercover officer!”

  But the kid’s yelling and the loud rush of the raging river drowned out everything else.

  The ice-cold water was up to their knees in a second, then up to their chests. Ho-ly fuck. Joe had to catch his breath as he adjusted to the shock.

  He twisted to kick the wire mesh divider to draw the cops’ attention, but the officers were focused on getting out, paying no mind to the panic in the backseat.

  The car filled up in seconds, only a two-inch air pocket hanging on stubbornly under the roof where Lil’ Gomez was sucking air, quiet for the moment. Underwater, the headlights’ eerie glow provided maybe a foot or two of visibility; nothing but murky river beyond that.

  Joe rattled the door as he watched the driver wiggle out of the car, then kick away, disappearing in the dark water in seconds. The cop on the passenger side was squeezing through his own window inch by inch. He was rounder than his buddy, but he heaved himself through at last, glancing back.

  Joe banged his cuffed hands against the rolled-up window in the back, holding the man’s gaze.

  Indecision mixed with desperation on the officer’s face. Then he reached back in, his dark hand barely visible against the car’s black interior. He pressed the button and waited three seconds for the glass in the back to slide down most of the way.

  Then he pushed away and faded into the roiling water.