The Ghosts of Cragera Bay

by Dawn Brown

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her in the dark. “Yes.”

  She reached for the lamp nearest them on the small desk by the window. She wasn’t convinced her rubbery legs could carry her to the switch on the wall without giving out. Her fingers moved blindly over the smooth porcelain until they found the knob. She twisted it and the lamp flickered for an instant before the bulb exploded. Tiny glass fragments showered her hand before she could jerk back.

  Muted popping filled the room followed by the tinkling of glass hitting the floor—the bulbs in all the lamps bursting. She needed to switch on the chandelier. She took a step toward the far wall, but Declan’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. The lights exploded overhead as he jerked her against his chest. Glass shards rained down over them, and Declan covered her head with his arms, held her tight against his chest.

  No light. No way to chase away the thing before them.

  Once the glass stopped falling, she eased back and met the red glare fixed on them. The shadow had stopped moving and stood just three feet away. Rage and hate oozed from its mass, building, gathering like an electrical charge, a storm on the brink of tearing loose. The fine hairs on her arms stood at attention as if the room were charged with static electricity.

  Panic built inside her.

  “We have to get out of here,” she whispered.

  “Run,” Declan said, pushing her back from him toward the door. “It doesn’t want you.”

  Her fingers grasped his shirt. “You come, too.”

  Before he could argue, a huge boom rocked the house as if someone had set off a bomb.

  Chapter Ten

  The room shook, walls, floors, nearly knocking Carly on her backside. Only her grip on Declan’s shirt kept her upright. Then nothing. Silence fell, heavy and unnatural. When she looked up, the shadow had gone. Even the stink was dissipating.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding on a shuddery sigh.

  “Is it gone?” Declan asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  She swallowed hard—her thundering heart still lodged in her throat. “I think so.”

  As if to mock her, loud crashes rocked the house once more, like a giant’s footsteps running from one end of Stonecliff to the other. Doors slammed. Glass shattered. Something was tearing the house apart.

  The two-way radio on her belt hissed before Andy’s panicked voice came through the speaker. “I don’t know what’s happening where you are, but all hell is breaking loose down here.”

  She held the speaker to her mouth. “Here, too.”

  “I’ve lost connection—” Andy let out an airy oomph and the radio went silent, and so did the rest of the house.

  “Shit,” she whispered. “We have to get down there.”

  “Stay close to me,” Declan said. She nodded and laced her fingers with his.

  Using the flashlight app on her mobile, she guided them down the maze of hallways. Glass crunched beneath their shoes. The sconces mounted on the wall had shattered. Tables and cabinets once pushed against the walls had all been tipped forward into the hall. She and Declan had to right them before they could continue down the narrow passage.

  What if something had happened to Andy? Her stomach sank to her shoes. She’d dragged him into this. If he’d been hurt… Thank God, Declan had refused to let her bring in a group. Whatever force had just rolled through Stonecliff, she’d never experienced anything like it.

  “I don’t think it’s as bad down here,” Declan said, as they rushed down the stairs.

  He was right. There was no glass under their feet; the furniture in the foyer was still intact, positioned as it had always been. Maybe Andy was fine.

  Declan shoved open the parlor door. The chandelier glowed softly, but the tiny flicker of relief in her chest snuffed out. Bits of broken laptop scattered the floor. The table Andy had set up his equipment on had been upended.

  She pressed her fingers to her mouth, heart slamming against her chest.

  “Something bloody hit me.”

  Andy’s voice dragged her attention from the carnage of computer equipment to the man himself standing before a mirror mounted on the wall at the far side of the room.

  “Knocked me on my ass, too. Look at this.” He turned and gestured to a red welt darkening on his cheek. “I’ll have a shiner come morning.”

  He was right. Whatever had slammed into him had left one hell of a mark.

  “Are you all right?” Declan asked, his features dark and brooding, but otherwise revealing nothing about what was going on inside his head. Did he blame her for all this? Was he right to? Had her investigation, her presence in Stonecliff agitated the shadow? In all her witness interviews none had described activity like they’d just experienced.

  “I think you’re right,” Declan said, jerking her from her thoughts. His face was stony, unreadable. “It’s getting stronger. I’m going up to check on Warlow.”

  Her insides squeezed.

  “Wait.” She grabbed his sleeve. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for anyone to go anywhere alone.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be fine. Whatever was here is finished. At least for now.”

  Declan was right. She could feel it, too. All that gathering energy, the faint hum against her skin like the air before a storm, had gone. The house had gone quiet as if all that spent rage had exhausted it.

  “We’ll start tidying this, then.”

  Declan nodded and hurried from the room, while Carly bent down and started to pick up the plastic shards from the rug. Her muscles felt soft and shaky, the same feeling she’d had once when she narrowly missed a terrible traffic collision.

  She’d never experienced activity like this at any other haunt location. Any sense of control over this investigation was slipping through her fingers, leaving her spinning wildly with no idea how to ground herself again.

  “I should go try to find a bin bag,” she muttered, setting the pieces on an end table next to the settee.

  “What in the hell are you doing, Carly?” Andy growled.

  She straightened, frowning in confusion. “I’m tidying the mess. It wouldn’t be fair to just leave him to do it alone.”

  “I meant what the hell were you doing making out with Meyers. I saw you on the monitor just before the bloody house exploded.”

  Her face burned. Oh, God, how could she have forgotten he’d been watching?

  “I followed you into this mess, walked a very fine line between right and wrong because I believed in the work, and now you’re messing around with the man. If anyone ever found out, you’d lose all credibility. And so would I.”

  “I’m not messing around with him. We kissed, that’s all.” But she hadn’t wanted to end with a kiss, not then. And not now.

  “Have you lost any sense of objectivity? It’s not bad enough we trespassed on the man’s property, you wheeled and dealed to get him to let us investigate, now you’ve got your tongue in his mouth? You’re supposed to be a professional.”

  “I am a professional,” she snapped. Though every word out of his mouth pricked her conscience like tiny, hot darts. “Whatever happened between Declan and I on a personal level has no bearing on this investigation. I’m a grown up, quite capable of maintaining my objectivity.” If not control over her hormones.

  “Well, that’s good, then. You should put that in the foreword of your dissertation.” Sarcasm dripped from his every word. “Tell me something, did you start messing about with him so he’d let us back tonight after yesterday’s fiasco?”

  Molten fury flooded her blood. Every ounce of self-control went into forcing her arms to her sides and keeping her fist from connecting with his face. “Are you asking if I’m some sort of haunt-location prostitute?”

  “No,” Andy said, suddenly sounding as tired as she felt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but this place is huge. What’s happened here is amazing, think of what we’ve seen, what we’ve documented. We can’t risk our actions being called into question
or our work could be discredited.”

  “Let’s just clean this mess up. After tonight, who knows if Declan will even let us come back?”

  “You’re not saying nothing’s going to happen with Meyers,” Andy said, scowling.

  No, she wasn’t. She wouldn’t make a promise she had no intention of keeping. Whatever was happening between her and Declan, she wanted to see it through.

  “I’m going then,” Andy said, and started to leave.

  “Andy, don’t go. All the cases for the equipment are in your van.”

  “Give me your keys, then. We’ll switch back whenever you find your way to the inn.”

  “Are you really leaving the investigation because of this?”

  He snorted. “After everything we’ve seen, of course not. But I’m not spending the night watching you two mooning over each other. I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”

  So did she.

  She gave him her keys and he left his for the van. Once he’d gone, she found a bin bag in the kitchen and brought it back to the parlor to finish tidying the mess. Declan was back, setting the table right side up in front of the settee.

  “Is the butler all right?” she asked.

  Declan nodded. “He seemed fine, said he didn’t hear a thing.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, with a shrug. “The destruction appears to be confined to my room, the hall upstairs and this room. Warlow’s room is on the far side of the house, so maybe he didn’t hear anything.”

  “All that banging, though. The whole house shook.”

  He shrugged again. “If he is lying, it wouldn’t be the first time. Where did Andy go?”

  “Back to the inn.” She focused on brushing the bits of plastic she’d piled on the end table into the bag. “He’s pretty mad at me right now. He saw us kissing upstairs.”

  Declan didn’t respond and when she looked up his dark gaze was fixed on her.

  “Were you two together or something?”

  She snorted. “No, nothing like that. Andy and I have never had any interest in each other besides professionally. But he’s afraid if something happens between us, it could damage the credibility of our investigation.”

  Declan lifted a single brow and smirked. “Is something going to happen between us?”

  She tried to swallow, her mouth having suddenly gone dry. “I think so.”

  “Thank God.” He closed the distance between them, cupped her face with both hands and caught her mouth in a brain-scrambling kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing against the solid length of his frame. Heat throbbed at her core. She wanted more.

  “We need…to find another…room,” he said, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck. She shivered. “There’s too much debris here.”

  They found an empty bedroom, lights and furniture still intact. The minute the door closed, Declan was back kissing her, touching her, sending her mind and body reeling. And she met his kiss as greedily.

  His hands grasped her hips, and he pulled her tight against his frame. The hard evidence of his want pressed into her belly. Her nipples tightened, her breasts heavy, crushed against his chest. Need pulsed inside her like a slow building crescendo, driven higher by his mouth and those wonderful hands slipping over her backside and crushing her tighter against him.

  She more wanted of him, all of him. Naked flesh against flesh. She wanted to explore every contour of his hard muscled body, taste his skin.

  Mindlessly, she tugged at his shirt, pulling it up to his shoulder. She caught his soft chuckle with her mouth, before he broke the kiss and eased back, letting her tug the thin cotton over his head and drop it to the floor. Her breath lodged in her throat while her gaze took in the sight of his sculpted chest and abs. He was absolute male perfection.

  She reached up, ran her hands over the hard ridge of his pectorals. The smattering of crisp black hair tickled her palm. She trailed her fingers lower, down the contour between his hard abs. When her exploration reached the fly of his jeans, he sucked in his breath. His stomach jerked back from her touch.

  She lifted her gaze to his. The dark anticipation glinting in his eyes shot hot need directly to her core.

  “You next,” he murmured, grasping the hem of her shirt. He dragged the fitted material up her body with exquisite slowness. His knuckles traced her sides and sent shivery trills scurrying over her skin. He lifted her shirt over her head, dropped it to the floor beside his then deftly unhooked her bra. She let the thin lacy material join the growing pile of clothes at her feet.

  Dark eyes fixed on her face, before dropping lower, taking in her nearly naked body. Her skin warmed, tingled beneath his scrutiny. Her nipples puckered, aching for his touch, but he didn’t move. Instead, he stood where he was and let his gaze greedily roam her. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You’re incredible,” he murmured, and before the warmth of his words faded, he was kissing her again, hard and frantic. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing her puckered flesh. She groaned, tilting her head back, arching into his touch, letting his mouth trail hot, wet kisses down her throat. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair while his lips trailed lower along the curve of her breast. A shudder rippled through her just as his mouth closed around her nipple.

  White-hot need speared low inside her. She groaned, arching her back and silently offering his mouth more, which he greedily accepted. He sucked and nipped at her tight nipple, tongue laving, sending trills of pleasure and pain spinning through her system. So caught up in the whirlwind of sensation she barely noticed his hand pulling at the fly of her jeans, slipping beneath her underwear.

  Only when deft fingers parted her sensitive folds, did she stiffen with eager anticipation. His finger pushed inside her. She gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, fingers digging into his solid flesh.

  “Mmm,” he murmured against her throat. “So tight. Open wider.”

  She gave in to his request, parting her legs for him. No easy feat. Her muscles had turned to jelly, her thighs trembling on the brink of giving out altogether. He slipped a second finger inside her, stretching her. The sweetest invasion. A steady pulse beat at her core. His hand started to move back and forth, and she couldn’t hold back the whimper that slipped past her lips.

  His mouth caught hers, tongue sweeping inside. She met his kiss with the same desperate abandon.

  She was lost in him. Only vaguely aware of anything beyond Declan’s mouth on hers, his bare chest crushed against her breasts, his fingers moving inside her, his thumb circling her clitoris and the tight thrum pushing her to the very brink.

  Still she wanted more. All of him, against her, inside her…

  “Declan.” She exploded around his fingers in a hot rush, everything squeezing tight. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, while sweet rippling shudders rolled through her.

  “Shit,” he whispered against her lips, easing his hand from her underwear. “I have to get inside you.”

  Despite the lovely aftershocks of her orgasm still rolling through her body, Yes! Yes! Yes! flashed across her brain like a neon sign.

  His mouth fed frantically from hers, but he lowered her onto the bed with surprising care. Once stretched across his mattress, he reached down and slid her jeans and underwear past her hips and down her legs, but shucked off his own clothes with much less grace. He started to crawl over her, and fresh heat rolled through her limbs. She wanted to feel his weight settle on top of her, his hips part her legs.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  “What’s wrong?” Unease chilled her heated skin like a cold breeze.

  “Nothing,” he said turning away from her and snatching his jeans up from the floor. “I just almost forgot.”

  He lifted his wallet and slipped out a square packet. Protection, of course. Thank God, he’d thought of it, and he’d had something with him. A sliver of doubt punctured the lovely fog she’d been wrapped in.

>   How often did he sleep with women he barely knew? Was she nothing more than a conquest?

  Carly squashed the unsettling questions before they took root. After all, none of that mattered. He hadn’t filled her head with pretty promises and flowery lies. What was happening between them was based purely on physical attraction and would be done come morning.

  It was what they both wanted.

  He tore open the plastic package and she watched him sheath his thick erection jutting up from the thatch of trimmed black hair. The pulse at her core thrummed once more and all her doubts melted away.

  * * *

  Declan turned back to Carly stretched out on the bed, and the sight of her caught him like a kick to the stomach. She was gorgeous, so much more than he’d imagined. Every inch of her was soft, sweet skin, and he could have happily spent the rest of his days exploring her. Gentle waves of caramel-colored hair spread out beneath her over the rumpled bed, those dove-gray eyes were smoky and still fuzzy with the last remnants of her orgasm. If he dropped dead wrapped in those long, toned limbs, he’d die a happy man.

  He knelt on the bed and parted her legs, letting him admire her gleaming core. His mouth practically watered, hungry for the taste of her, but he was already on the brink of exploding. He needed to get inside her, to sink into her tight, warm depths.

  He covered her body with his own, caging her head between his elbows. His hips fit perfectly between her legs, the tip of his cock grazing her opening. She moaned softly, tipping her head back and undulated beneath him. Slick heat rubbed the length of his shaft. Everything inside him pulled tight and he had to squeeze his eyes closed to gain control.

  Shit, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted so strongly to a woman. He felt more for Carly than he wanted to, than he should, than was even logical.

  He gave himself a mental shake, shoving the disconcerting thoughts to the back of his mind. He had his life waiting for him back in Seattle, the same as she had her life here. But for tonight, at least, they had this. They had now.

  He caught her mouth with his, and thrust deep inside her. She closed hot and tight around him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. He felt more than heard Carly’s soft gasp. Her fingers tangling his hair squeezed and sent a faint burn across his scalp that wasn’t wholly unpleasant.