Braxton’s heart sped up. The girl he’d been with on the plane—Heather—was in trouble. “Where is she?”
Ivan raised an eyebrow. “I have no clue. I assumed you did. You didn’t even get her number?”
“No.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m not exactly in relationship mode right now. I have a lot of shit going on.”
“I’ve gotta tell you, I never saw you as the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”
“There was no love involved in this.” Although there had been a connection. A real one. And that was why he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.
Not that he intended to tell Ivan that. Ever.
“She was voluntarily admitting herself to a place where they could treat her mental illness. Everyone thought she was nuts. She can see ghosts.”
Braxton picked up his phone to send one message to Foy. If the man wanted to get involved in Braxton’s business, he could damn well help out.
Where is she?
Chapter Three
Heather sipped at her lemonade and closed her eyes when the sky opened up and a drizzle began. It was an afternoon shower and, for the moment, the mist of the water soothed her tired soul. She sighed when she heard him approaching. “Help us.”
She lifted her hand, which weighed a ton thanks to the new drug concoction that came with a whole slew of new side effects, and waved him away without turning to look at whatever ghost this was. “Sorry. Closed for business at the moment.”
If it really started to pour, would someone on staff remember to come and get her out of here or would she have to figure out if she could move her legs well enough to manage to walk inside herself? These were the details that troubled her lately. And to think once upon a time she’d dreamed of being a lawyer. Everyone had told her she had the mind for it.
Now she had to question whether she had any brain left.
A man walked in front of her and kneeled down. He was a blurry mess of colors before she managed to make her eyes straighten out what she was viewing. Heather sucked in her breath. Was she now hallucinating the living?
“Jim? Is it really you?” It couldn’t be. Why would the guy who had made her come hard and fast in an airplane lavatory be here?
“It’s me.” He nodded, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. She couldn’t actually feel his hand in hers, but she watched him do it.
“Jim?” A blond man appeared next to him. Whoever this new person happened to be, he was handsome. But he didn’t hold a candle to Jim. “Since when?”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Since always. Shut up. We don’t need confusion. They’ve clearly got her massively doped up.” Her one-time lover turned his attention back to her. “Tell me something, did it make the ghosts stop?”
The blond guy snorted. “No way. They’re all over her. You should see what I’m seeing. I’ve never seen such an assortment of pesky spirits in my life.”
She reached out with her unsteady hands and waved her free hand in front of the blond man. “You can see them too?” In her whole life she’d never met anyone who could. Not one other person who truly saw…
“He can see them because you can see them.” Jim tapped at his eyes. “That’s his gift. Ivan is psychic, sort of. He can see what others see. It’s helpful in a lot of ways. But like I told you on the plane, there are a lot of people who can see ghosts.”
She swallowed. His words warmed her in a distant part of her insides, as if she was aware that they made her feel better but she couldn’t really access the emotion. It must have something to do with the drugs.
What little moisture the drugs hadn’t already sapped from her mouth fled at his words. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you.” Jim kneeled down and scooped her up in her arms as if she weighed nothing at all, which she knew not to be true. Sitting around for months had probably put ten pounds of fat on her, at least.
“Speaking of which, we’d better hurry up. One of the orderlies is coming for her. I can see him approaching the door,” said Ivan—that was what Jim had called him.
Heather looked at Jim. “Is he doing it again? Looking?”
“He is.” Jim nodded. “We’re blowing the subterfuge of this rescue. And Foy made it seem like it would be so fucking easy.”
She only understood about half of what he said.
“Help us,” the ghost shouted at her again, and she could feel its breath in her face. She shuddered. No way did she want to take another ghostly trip. Not now. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?
“Ivan?”
“They’re all over her, man.” Ivan shook his head.
Braxton lifted his hand in the air. “Be gone with you.”
The air swirled around her and she looked around to see what had caused it. Nothing seemed amiss…except the sticky, clinging sensation of the ghosts evaporated. She waited. Surely they’d have to be back soon. She’d hardly had five minutes of relief from them in fifteen years.
“I sent them away. For now. Some of them might even move on. But in the meantime, I’m taking you somewhere where it will be harder for them to get to you.”
Heather pushed her head against Jim’s chest. It was possible she’d imagined this whole thing. Her plane lover might not even be there, his blond friend a figment of her imagination. For now, however, she’d take refuge in the delusion. The ghosts were gone.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You can rest.” Her eyes drifted shut. She’d do just that.
* * * * *
She woke up to voices and a dull ache in her head. Blinking to clear her eyes, she tried to take in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the sharp lines of the objects all around her. The clarity of her vision cut like a razor, erasing all the fuzzy edges. Whatever medicine she’d been on must be wearing off. Hopefully, she wouldn’t go through some kind of withdrawal.
Had she been dreaming or had her hot man from the plane come and gotten her? Had Jim placed her in a bedroom or had she imagined the whole thing?
The colors were dark and masculine. Browns, blues, dark greens. All very woodsy. She rubbed at her eyes. Apparently she hadn’t made up the fact that they’d broken her out of her self-imposed therapy.
She had to figure out what the hell was going on with Jim and his friend and then do something about the fact that she was starving.
Heather swung her feet off the bed and walked toward the door. Her hand shook when she gripped the handle and twisted it. Maybe all the drugs hadn’t quite left her system yet. She held it harder, forcing the door open.
The hallway was quiet. She didn’t hear either human or ghostly voices, which made her grin. Jim had promised to take her somewhere where it would be harder for them to get to her. She’d never known such mythical places existed. It was possible to be safe from ghosts?
Rounding the corner, she entered the kitchen. Jim was staring at his phone. He was so handsome that for a second she forgot to breathe. He didn’t look up when she approached, and shook his head at whatever he was looking at.
She bit down on her lip. He’d been handsome on the plane and nothing had changed. Her panties soaked as thoughts of his cock pushing into her pussy flew into her mind. Heather shook her head. She couldn’t immediately proposition the man for a quick lay every time she saw him.
“Hi.”
He jumped and then grinned at her. “Wow. You startled me. That’s actually hard to do. I must have been really engrossed.”
“Something important happening?” She pointed at his phone.
“Sports, actually. So yes and no.” He shrugged and put it down. “Important if you really care about who gets traded where in baseball.”
“I’ve never watched any. I mean, other than a little bit in gym or whatever in school.”
She scratched her head. Was that the single most ridiculous sentence ever uttered by one human being to another? Her cheeks got hot. She didn’t even want to know how red she had to be a
t that moment.
“How are you feeling?” He stared at her with his bright-blue eyes and she wondered if it was possible for someone to actually see into her soul.
“Clearheaded.” She raised her hand so he could see the shakes she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide for very long. “And clearly in some kind of withdrawal.”
He sucked in his breath. “I’m sorry. Maybe we should have stolen some of your meds. That way we could have cut you down slowly. Maybe we can get back in.”
“No.” She walked forward. “Whatever this is, I’ll live through it. I need not to be on them anymore. It seemed like a really good idea to go in there, to give my family a break, to see if I could be cured. Only that’s not what happened.”
“Right. Listen, Heather.” He cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology. Want some tea?”
“I owe you an apology. Want some tea?” She repeated his words aloud so she could be sure she’d followed them.
“Sorry. I don’t talk to all that many people. Maybe I don’t really know how to do it anymore.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “Do you want some tea?”
She tried to follow his train of thought. Like Jim, she really didn’t talk to that many people. How could she? The only ones who really wanted to engage with her were dead. “Why do you owe me an apology?”
“Because I should have intervened on the plane. When you said you were putting yourself in that place because you saw ghosts. I shouldn’t have let you do that. Only—”
She interrupted him. “Only you weren’t sure I did see ghosts. You thought I might really be sick.”
“Right.” He nodded. “I should have known better. You see, I do this for a living. I fight evil. I took an oath when I was very young to devote my life to the cause. I’m Shadow Promised. It’s complicated. Fate put you on that plane with me and I didn’t follow through. I apologize. I make a lot of mistakes. Big ones.”
“I wouldn’t have listened.” She walked toward him. His words brought warmth to the coldness that had settled into her spine as a permanent reminder of the daily struggle of her life. “You were a stranger. A hot one, to be sure, but not someone I would have paid attention to. Not then. I really wanted to be unwell. So they could fix me.”
“You’re not broken. Believe it or not, you’re gifted.”
“Well, then fate can take this gift and shove it…”
He laughed, a warm, rich sound. That was when she noticed the small worry lines around his eyes. Jim lived a life of fighting evil? That must really take a toll.
“Jim, I’m really hungry. And I would like that tea.”
At her statement, he reached out and took her hand in his. It stopped shaking at his touch. “Most people call me Braxton. My full name is James Braxton. I don’t know why
I told you to call me Jim. I haven’t used it in decades.”
Braxton. She smiled. “It doesn’t fit you.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “No?”
“Nope. But we can work that out later.” When was the last time she’d simply been with someone as she was right now? This man she’d fucked but really didn’t know, who had shown up to save her when she’d finally had more than she could take. “How about you find some food and then tell me how you knew to come get me?” Jim—Braxton—smiled. “All right, Heather. I think I can manage to do both of those things.”
She shivered at the low tone of his voice. Heather knew quite well what Jim could do. He could banish ghosts, take her to safety, make her laugh—and bring her to orgasm on the counter of an airplane lavatory. A miracle man.
His palms were damp. He wiped them on his pants. The woman made him more nervous than a kid about to lose his virginity. What was that about? They’d already been lovers. Shouldn’t that have eased some of this away?
He scooped the scrambled eggs onto her plate and passed it over to her. Whipping up the eggs accounted for the extent of his cooking abilities. Possibly he could burn toast.
She smiled after she took her first bite and he knew she really must be starving. Otherwise she’d probably be spitting them out and asking for pizza delivery.
Ivan picked that moment to return. He pushed open the door and came in carrying sandwiches. The man had been going on a beer run, but Braxton didn’t see any alcohol. Who knew why the purpose of his errand had changed?
“How you two doing?” Ivan set a sandwich down in front of Heather. “I went for beer but I was sidetracked.” He shrugged. “The doctors are talking to the police. I had to take a look at what was going on and I got distracted. Then food seemed like a really good idea.”
“Okay.” Heather cleaned up her eggs then bit into a sandwich, and after swallowing a piece of it she spoke again. Watching her chew and swallow made his balls ache. Hell. What the fuck was the matter with him? “What’s going on here? I think you need to start explaining things.”
He wasn’t at all surprised that she had questions. How could she not?
“Ivan and I are involved in a brotherhood, if you will. We all took an oath. We fight demons and other things that go bump in the night. Ghosts fall into that category, although for most people they’re not as much of a problem as they seem to be for you.”
Ivan had said they were all over her. He couldn’t imagine how she could function at all if that was the case. No wonder people thought she was off her rocker. He’d be crazed if they were coming after him day and night.
“We’re all a little psychic. Our Master—his name is Foy—he saw that we were supposed to come and get you out of that place, so that’s what we did.”
She chewed on her lower lip and he gripped the counter until his knuckles were white. He wanted to reach over and chew on that lip with her. To lick it and suck until she moaned his name.
“I guess I don’t understand why your Master—which is really weird by the way… Master? What’s that about?—would bother with me. I’m no one. I’m just some girl who sees ghosts.”
“You’re not just some girl.” She was the woman who had given him the single most erotic experience of his life.
“That’s the thing.” Ivan stretched his arms over his head. “Foy told us to get you.
Now we have to figure out why.”
Heather scratched her head. “He won’t tell you?”
And she had hit the nail on the head. Foy gave out information and then let them figure out the details themselves. Something about letting his students handle their own fates.
Frustrating. As. Hell.
But in this case it had brought Heather back into his life. He wouldn’t complain. At least not out loud. Getting to look at her was better than staring at Ivan’s mug all day long. Plus there was the small matter of why fate apparently wanted her out of that place.
Heather gasped and grabbed her head. “No. No. No.” She closed her eyes.
“Heather?” What the fuck? He walked to her, his pulse pounding in his ears. She was in pain. He didn’t know what had caused it but he wanted it stopped. Immediately. He put his arm around her. “What’s the matter? Not feeling well?”
She might need medical attention. Who could he call who wouldn’t call the police? Foy had a list of people in every city. But where had he stuck the list? He’d call Foy. Anything to make Heather better.
“The ghosts are back.”
“What? This place is warded.”
Ivan sighed loudly. “Losing your touch, boyo? Need some help setting basic protection? Didn’t you just get back from Chicago? Foy didn’t do Basic Shadow Fighting 101 with you again?”
“Eat me, dipshit.” Braxton clenched his fist, wanting to slam it into Ivan’s jaw. He’d laid a great foundation of protection. There was no way, unless this was some überghost, that anything was getting into his apartment and to Heather. Some of his other brothers couldn’t block the paranormal, but he could.
“Don’t start thinking I’m insane. I’m not.” Heather shook her head back and forth. “I can see them. I can hear them. They’re here.
”
The frustration vibrating in her voice made him want to hurl something across the room. In fact if he’d been able to reach his glass, he would have done just that. The shattering would have given him a small amount of relief. Too bad he had to control himself. Heather didn’t need to see him lose his mind right at that moment.
“Ivan.” He motioned toward Heather with his chin. “Can you take a look?”
“Yep.” Ivan walked toward Heather and placed his hand on her shoulder. The other man didn’t need to touch to share vision but it made it easier to form the connection. Braxton ground his teeth while he watched the contact between Ivan and Heather.
He had no right to feel so alpha-male crazy about Heather. If she wanted Ivan, he wouldn’t be able to say a word about it… No, scratch that. If Ivan made any moves toward Heather he’d beat him into the ground. With a sledgehammer.
Ivan sucked in his breath. “She’s seeing ghosts but they’re not here in the room with us.”
“What does that mean?” Braxton hated vague answers. Tell him what he needed to know or shut the fuck up.
“It means she’s seeing them somewhere else, as if her vision, her consciousness, has been sent elsewhere. Some mansion.” Ivan shook his head. “This is really messed up, man. I’ve never seen this happen without possession.”
“She couldn’t be in here possessed. My wards are that good.” Braxton stroked the back of her head. How could her hair be so soft? She’d been essentially locked up for months.
“It’s like they’ve drawn her mind. It must be a psychic power. Something she can do.”
“That’s a hell of a power. The ghosts can simply drag her mind wherever they want it? We’re going to have to get someone to teach her how to protect herself.”
Ivan nodded. “Or something.”
“In the meantime we have to help her now.” At least he finally understood why fate and Foy had sent him back after Heather. She was a major talent and someone had to help her before it destroyed her.
Haunted Years (Shadow Promised Book 3) Page 3
