Gatekeeper

by Debra Glass

  Theo wrote furiously.

  “And then…” Jillian stopped. She forced herself to breathe. “Lynn came in pointing a gun at me.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She told me…” Jillian stopped again. She couldn’t tell him about Benton’s involvement with Lynn’s ancestor. Did it really matter in the scheme of things? And would Theo believe it? She reconsidered. “She told me she was going to kill me.”

  “Did she say why?”

  Jillian shrugged.

  Theo stared. He put down his pen. “Off the record. What did she tell you?”

  “She thought I still had the button.”

  “The one from the evidence case?”

  Jillian nodded. “Okay. I know how crazy this sounds but you said off the record, so here goes. The spirit of the Civil War soldier I told you about was the fiancé of one of Lynn’s ancestors. He compromised her, didn’t marry her, yadda yadda, and Lynn’s family is still holding onto some one hundred fiftyyearold vendetta against the man. His spirit is earthbound. And to make a long story short, Lynn wanted to make certain he remained earthbound.”

  Theo’s brown eyes grew wide. “All this over some dead dude’s eternal resting place?”

  “Yep.” Eternal. Her thoughts turned to Benton. She looked down at the dark red liquid in her glass. He had risked his soul to protect her.

  Her nose tingled. A tear burned in the corner of her eye.

  Theo took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “I knew I shoulda stayed in football.”

  Jillian gave him a wistful smile and then took a drink of her wine.

  He took up the pen once more. “And then what?” He patted her hand and gazed at her quickly. “Back on the record.”

  “She shot at me. Twice. And all I can remember is that she must have stumbled because she just came hurtling toward the sword.” Jillian shuddered. Her mind’s eye was filled with images of Benton shoving Lynn and then the stomach-turning feel of Lynn’s body being impaled on the sword. But Jillian wasn’t about to tell Theo that. “The next thing I knew, you and the paramedics were there.”

  He wrote it down. “How’s the arm?”

  “Whoever said getting shot feels like getting kicked by a mule was right.”

  Theo looked down at what he had written and then his gaze met Jillian’s. “Do you want to explain those bruises on Lynn’s back?”

  Jillian squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s something else for the off-the-record report.”

  Theo pursed his lips. “The ghost?”

  Jillian nodded.

  His eyes widened and scanned the room as if he expected to see Benton’s ghost loom up. “I’ll let you rest now.”

  She touched his sleeve. “Have…have you caught Scott Bowers yet?” Part of her hoped he’d already been rounded up. Another part of her hoped they would never catch him—that Benton would stay with her and…and what? Fantasizing about a relationship with a dead man was ridiculous. She blinked to force the thoughts out of her head.

  Theo shook his head. “A neighbor said he’d left town. We’ll put out an APB on him though.” He slid his pen into his shirt pocket. “If you want me to, I’ll station an officer here at the house.”

  “I would appreciate that,” she said. “But I think Lynn was the real threat to Amy and me.” And to Benton.

  Theo stood. “Well, you won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

  Jillian merely stared. She wasn’t so sure about that.

  “Oh, did you bag those clothes for the crime lab?”

  Jillian handed Theo the plastic bag filled with the wadded, ruined clothes, along with yet another pair of wrecked, expensive shoes.

  “Thanks,” he said and started for the door. “I’ll let you know the second we apprehend Bowers.”

  She drew in a breath. “Please do.”

  Theo gave her a mock salute and then left. She closed and locked the door behind him.

  “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?”

  Jillian whirled. She gasped, her heart lodging in her throat.

  Lynn Bowers’ pallid, grinning ghost hovered menacingly behind her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jillian gaped at Lynn’s pale, pale ghost. Her heart hammered wildly. She sucked in a breath. “Lynn!”

  “Lynn, Lynn.” Mockery laced her unearthly tone. She took a menacing step forward. Still wearing the bloody orange knit top and brown pants, her ghost almost looked comical. But there was no mistaking the unveiled threat in her eyes. Her expression was maniacal, insane.

  Jillian’s back found the door. She tensed. Fear wedged in her throat. “What do you want with me?”

  “It’s not you I want. It’s him.” Her voice sounded eerily breathy. Her eyes widened and she pointed.

  Jillian’s gaze followed her bloody finger. Benton stood, legs braced, just inches from her. Jillian gasped at the suddenness of his appearance.

  “Well, if it isn’t your little Gatekeeper,” Lynn said scathingly. “You’re just the ghoul I wanted to see.”

  Benton burst into a bout of angry laughter. “You have no power here.”

  “No?” she asked. “Maybe not. But my friends do.” An insane grin stretched her red lips into a thin, tight line as a shadowy horde of soul collectors materialized. Their red eyes smoldered. Sharp, fang-like teeth glittered wickedly.

  Jillian’s heart sank. Terror immobilized her and she realized she was hugging herself. Cold bumps broke out all over her flesh. She shivered, shooting a quick glance at Benton. His stare was locked with Lynn’s, a muscle clenching in his jaw. If he was afraid, he didn’t show it.

  Lynn’s searing gaze raked Benton from head to toe. And then, Jillian watched in awestruck horror as Lynn’s form morphed into a balding red-haired man with a scraggily beard. He was dressed in a tattered pair of butternut uniform pants and a homespun beige coat.

  At once, Jillian knew he was Bruce Bowers.

  Had Lynn been Bruce in a former life?

  His mouth twisted in a wicked grin. “You ready for a fight, Boy General?”

  Benton flashed him a sinister smile that Jillian found frightening. “No, but she is.” He gestured with his head toward Jillian.

  What? Jillian’s gaze collided with Benton’s and clung. She searched his eyes. Her heart thudded so hard she could hear her pulse in her ears. What did he mean she is?

  Benton’s hard gaze softened. Jillian felt his fingers entwine with hers. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Call in your Light.”

  “What?” Her voice came out as a harsh whisper.

  “Ask for your Light, your protection. Surround us with it,” his words were fast, clipped, low.

  What did he mean? What was he talking about?

  “Get him!” Bruce yelled.

  The soul collectors swarmed them and Jillian felt as if she were caught up in a whirlwind. She clung tenaciously to Benton’s hand but they were being ripped away from each other.

  “The Light, Jillian!” Benton’s voice rose over the windstorm.

  Jillian couldn’t think. The soul collectors were tearing Benton away from her. She squeezed her eyes shut and did the only thing she could think of. She imagined brilliant White Light surrounding them both.

  She suddenly landed on the floor with a hard thud. She shook off her disorientation, fighting subsequent waves of dizziness and nausea. Her robe was in disarray and the towel with which she’d tied up her hair was in a damp heap on the other side of the room.

  Bruce and the soul collectors were letting out unearthly wails. Jillian coughed and sputtered. Sulfurous smoke clogged the foyer, strangling her. And then she realized she was no longer holding Benton’s hand.

  She choked. “Benton,” she called lurching up on her hands and knees. She searched through the smoke. “Benton!” She gasped, a hoarse, raw sound. It was as if hell had opened up a yawning, gaping portal right in her foyer. The soul collectors were dragging a hissing, scre
aming Bruce—along with Benton—down into a swirling torrent of flames.

  “Benton!”

  He reached for her. Their fingertips brushed but she couldn’t grasp his hand, nor could she feel it.

  “No!” Jillian yelled. At the risk of being gobbled down into the pit herself, she hurtled her body toward him, shrugging through the few remaining soul collectors. She ignored their scratching, prying claws. “Benton, manifest to me!” she yelled above the din. She knew full well it might mean his demise—or it might be her only hope of pulling him free. Their gazes clashed. His hand was suddenly hard and solid and firmly clasped in hers.

  Jillian grasped it and strained to hold on. The hellish force was pulling her down with him, inching her slowly across the floor. Struggling, she felt as if her shoulders were being torn from their sockets. As she slid precariously toward the pit, she groaned and pulled harder.

  “Let go of me,” Benton ordered. “It’s not you they want.”

  “No!” She slid farther across the hardwood toward the void.

  “Let go!”

  Fiercely determined, she hung on with all her might, squeezed her eyes shut and projected the White Light once more. She would not let him go. Not now. Not ever.

  Miraculously, the force loosened. Jillian reeled backward, slamming her head against the front door. Her whole body ached. Her head throbbed.

  The house was suddenly quiet. The pungent odor of sulfur dissipated. Jillian opened her eyes. Benton lay sprawled on the floor between her knees, his head buried in her lap.

  The only remnant of what had just transpired was a dark charcoal stain on her heart of pine wood floor.

  The stain grew darker and suddenly, a gray figure rose up from the floor.

  Bruce!

  Jillian gasped and tried to scramble backward—but then she realized his spirit had no color. He was a revenant.

  He stared vacuously for a moment before evaporating before her eyes.

  Joy and relief flooded her and she threaded her fingers into his thick, dark hair. Benton stirred and Jillian blew out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Are you all right?”

  He raised his head and looked into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze made Jillian’s stomach tighten. “Why didn’t you let me go? You could have been…been…” But his words trailed off as he pushed himself up. He sat heavily beside her and leaned back against the door. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath of relief.

  Jillian continued to stare. He’d nearly been taken from her. The thought sent a wave of terror fluttering through her insides and then, tenderly, as if she couldn’t stop herself, she brushed an errant lock of hair off his forehead. All the hurt at the prospect of living without him seemed insignificant now.

  He twisted his head to look into her eyes. His gaze searched hers and then his head was slanting toward forward. Slowly. Steadily. He was going to kiss her and she was powerless to prevent it. She felt herself leaning toward him, meeting him halfway. A warm, calloused hand came up to caress her cheek. His thumb nudged her chin upward. Her lashes fluttered down as he closed the remaining distance between them and brushed his lips across hers. He blew out a soft breath that fanned her face. Chills broke out all over her body. She knew she would be irretrievably lost, forever spellbound, but she opened her lips and met his kiss, softly, sweetly.

  God, how she had wanted this, longed for this—just one more time.

  She trembled. His tongue slid between her lips.

  Tentatively, she touched hers to his. A seductive groan emanated from somewhere in his chest. He crushed her against him, his mouth seeking hers possessively.

  How could she let this continue when it was breaking her heart? She tried to protest but she couldn’t. It was too late for that. And too late to stop.

  His hand was behind her head, his fingers laced tightly into her damp hair. He pushed her down to the hardwood floor. Was he going to take her right there in the foyer?

  An upsurge of panic prodded her to speak but his name was the only word she managed to utter before Benton shrugged off his jacket and kneeled over her. His hardened arousal was glaringly outlined in his gray trousers. One big hand roughly unbelted her robe while the other desperately undid the buttons of his fly. He pushed open the robe. Jillian was naked underneath. His gaze blazed as it moved down her body and then back up to her eyes.

  Jillian’s heart lodged in her throat. She tried to voice a protest again, to wriggle away from him but he seized her hips in his hands and pulled her back to him. “Come here,” he commanded and was buried to the hilt inside her pussy before she could utter an objection.

  Panting heavily, he plunged inside her. Each relentless, rhythmic thrust pushed the air out of her lungs in a rush. The floor was rock hard underneath her ass and she had no doubt she’d be bruised and aching later. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this fever-pitch desire that consumed her.

  Entwining her arms around his shoulders and her legs around thighs, she held on as he continued his assault, taking her as if he were trying to possess her, dominate her. His breath was hot and ragged in her ear and the sound of it, mingled with the wild, wet, slapping clash of his groin against hers, sent her plummeting over the precipice. Her cries resounded in the foyer and she vaguely realized Benton’s silky moans were echoing her own.

  * * * * *

  Breathless, Jillian lay on the cold hardwood floor with the robe gaping open, with her legs still sprawled impossibly, wantonly wide. Benton lay beside her, nestled against her, half on his stomach, half on his side. One hand possessively covered her breast. Jillian knew he could feel her heart pounding against his palm.

  She turned her head to look at him and was shocked to the core by his expression. It was one of benevolence, tenderness and something else she couldn’t identify.

  Jillian swallowed. Some unsettling emotion sparked inside her. He was going to be gone soon. Gone.

  He was leaving her—just as her mother had all those years ago.

  His thumb and forefinger tugged at her nipple, sending another wave of desire spiraling straight to her pussy.

  She had to stop this. Now. Before she got hurt any more than she already was.

  Wrenching free of his grasp, she clambered off the floor. She seized the robe in her hands and yanked it around her naked body.

  Benton looked confused. He stood, his shirt hanging untucked, his trousers unbuttoned, revealing wet, black curls against his skin. “Jillian?” His voice was laced with concern.

  She fled past him toward her bedroom but he moved at lightning speed and all at once, he had her in his arms again. He spun her around to face him.

  Jillian thrashed wildly. She tried to push at him, strike at him, anything to free herself but he caught her wrists in his hands and held them against her chest, pinning her with the force of his strong arms.

  An animalistic sob tore from her throat and she crumpled against him. Still holding her wrists with one hand, he cradled her against him with the other. “Why are you always running away from me?”

  Her chest heaved but she managed to fight down the tears that stung her eyes. She lifted her pitiful gaze to his. “Because I know you’re going to leave me and it’s breaking my heart.”

  Briefly, he closed his eyes. Something akin to relief washed over his features. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before his gaze sought hers once more. “Damned, if women ain’t about the triflin’est bunch of creatures on God’s green earth.”

  His total expression of exasperation confused Jillian. She stared, brow creased. “But…you told me from the beginning that you wanted to go to the Light.”

  He blew a breath out through his nose. His mouth was a hard line. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Well, maybe that’s changed.”

  Jillian’s heart leaped. Her lips parted. What was he saying? Dammit, why were men so tight-lipped when it came to their emotions? Was he telling her he really did care for her? All she could manage to
say was, “What do you mean?”

  “Whoa now,” he said, releasing her wrists and taking a step back from her. “Don’t be lookin’ at me like that.”

  Remaining silent, she waited for him to find the words.

  He swallowed. “Maybe I’m just not ready to go right now, is all. But when your sister got all fired up about sending me and you…you seemed pretty damned determined to be rid of me…I thought—”

  Jillian didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. She flung herself into his arms and kissed him. But then her joy came crashing down with sickening force. After what she had just seen, she knew more certainly than ever that he was no longer safe on this plane. He had to go to the Light. Now she understood the ramifications of it completely. Trembling, she backed away from him. She stared.

  “Benton, you manifested to me just now.” She pointed at him. “You’re still doing it.”

  “I had to so you could hang onto me.”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean since then.”

  Looking extremely guilty, he took a step toward her. The backs of her knees found the side of the bed. She swallowed. “What are you doing? Why? Don’t you know the soul collectors could take you? Don’t you know what you’re doing to your energy?” Her voice rose with hysteria.

  He took the one step that closed the distance between them. “And haven’t you realized by now I’d risk my soul to feel your arms around me?”

  Jillian searched his eyes.

  His fingers burrowed into the damp hair behind her ear. His gaze followed and she took the opportunity to study his face. He was so handsome, with his unruly hair and the piratical moustache and triangular-shaped beard. She could scarcely believe someone like him would be attracted to her. She had always considered herself plain, austerely professional in her choice of dress, minimal makeup and no-nonsense haircut. But Benton didn’t look at her that way. He regarded her as if she were anything but plain.

  And when his gaze slid into hers once more, her stomach clenched. Never in her well-ordered life had things seemed more out of control.

  “Let me make love to you, Jillian.” The pleading in his voice was going to be her undoing. His gaze dropped to her lips and then lower, where the robe gaped open, exposing her generous cleavage. He took a deep breath. The gray of his eyes turned a smoky shade of charcoal. He seemed to be taking her in. But it was more than just her physical appearance he was appraising. He seemed to be absorbing her entire essence.