Moonlight Scandals

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “No. I was going to say impressive.”

  “Wow.” Rosie whirled on him suddenly. “Did you just compliment me?” Snapping forward, she patted his chest quickly and then hopped back. “I am shook.”

  “I wouldn’t get that excited.” His tone was dry, but he was fighting a grin.

  “I am so excited.” She twirled, straight up twirled in front of him. She was so good at that he wondered if she’d taken dance. “My life is complete. Devlin de Vincent thinks I’m impressive!”

  “All that really isn’t necessary.”

  “But it is!” She skip-walked out of the kitchen, through the living room. “Who needs to find a ghost tonight? My life is complete!”

  Standing in the kitchen, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling and Devlin . . . smiled. It felt like it stretched the skin of his mouth, and wasn’t that screwed up? He was confident she was making fun of him, but he was . . . amused.

  Because Rosie was . . . God, she could be just as bad for him, for his family, as Sabrina, but she was so . . . her. Not even remotely impressed by him in the slightest.

  He shook his head and then found her in the foyer just as she was turning the light off.

  “I’m hitting record,” she warned.

  He inclined his head.

  Rosie studied him a moment and then turned as her thumb moved over the side of the small device. Walking to the center of what would become the living room, she looked up at the ceiling. “Hi,” she said, clearing her throat. “Is anyone here with us?”

  Dev arched a brow.

  “Anyone who wishes to speak to us?” She was quiet for a few moments as she slowly walked around the room. “My name is Rosie. Can you tell me your name?” There was another break of silence as she roamed into the foyer. “Why are you here?”

  That was the question of the night, wasn’t it?

  Rosie stopped by the stairs. “Are you alone?”

  “Obviously not,” Dev muttered. “We’re here.”

  She turned to him. “Really?”

  “What? Seems like a foolish question. Obviously it’s not alone. We’re here.”

  “That’s not what I meant when I asked the question,” she explained. “I’m asking if there is more than one spirit here.”

  “How do you even know there is a spirit here?”

  Rosie stared at him.

  “And your question wasn’t very clear,” he continued, following her into the open foyer. “What if it answers yes, but it’s talking about us being here and not another ghost?”

  “Fine,” she said, sounding exasperated as she whipped around. “Is there another spirit with you?”

  Dev grinned at her back as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  Knowing she wasn’t talking to him, but unable to help himself, he said, “I have no idea.”

  Shoulders slumping as she drew in a deep, very audible breath, she turned to him. “I’m not talking to you, Devlin.”

  “Oh,” he murmured. “My bad.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and after a moment, she refocused. “How old are you?”

  “I have a question.”

  Rosie’s head fell back. “Of course you do.”

  “When you ask how old the spirit is, do you mean their age when they died or how long they’ve been stuck in this cold, barren existence?”

  She lifted her head. “You do realize we’re being recorded right now, right?”

  He smirked.

  “And that means that someone else may be listening to this recording other than me?”

  The smirk faded. His eyes narrowed. He hadn’t agreed to that.

  Grinning, she moved away from him. “Can you tell me if you’re upset about what they’re doing to this house?”

  Dev snorted.

  Shooting him a narrowed glare over her shoulder, she then looked away. “How many of us are here?”

  Hadn’t she already asked that question?

  Rosie roamed into what was to become a dining room. The chair rails were in place and the crown molding was propped in the corner. He leaned against the doorframe.

  “Do you have anything you want to say to—”

  A loud bang interrupted her. The sound was a shock to the silence and for a moment it sounded like it came from every which direction and then he heard it.

  The sound of footsteps, right above them.

  Chapter 20

  Dev’s gaze flew to where Rosie stood. In the darkness with only the silvery moonlight streaming in through the windows, he couldn’t make out her expression.

  But he heard her.

  “I think that came from upstairs,” she whispered. “Is it possible someone is upstairs?”

  “No.” Pushing away from the door, he walked back into the foyer and looked up the stairs. He’d been upstairs before Rosie arrived. “Unless someone climbed the balcony.”

  Rosie moved silently, joining him in the foyer. “We need to investigate it.”

  He was already climbing the stairs. “Stay down here.”

  “What?” she demanded in a low voice.

  Stopping halfway, he looked over his shoulder. “Just in case it is a person hell-bent on murdering one of us, can you stay down here?”

  “It’s not a serial killer,” she whispered as she crept up the steps behind him. “You just said no one could be up here.”

  “I also said that someone could’ve gotten in through the balcony.”

  “By jumping from the patio down below like a kangaroo or a superhero?” The excitement was clear in her voice. “You know there’s not a person up here.”

  Dev couldn’t be sure. It was far more likely that it was an ax murderer than a spirit, so he really didn’t want Rosie charging up the stairs, into God knew what.

  “I’m not staying downstairs,” she said. “That’s not why I came here, to cower whenever there is a random noise.”

  Irritated, Dev realized he had only two options. Tie her up to something to keep her downstairs, and that sounded a hell of a lot more fun than it should’ve, or let her come up.

  Sighing, he turned around and started up the stairs again. “At least stay behind me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His jaw clenched as he reached the top of the steps and flipped the hallway lights on. The hall split in two directions. Both were empty, but the noise seemed to come from above the dining room, which would be either the master bedroom or the guest room next to it. Both could be accessed from the balcony. He started in that direction with Rosie practically on top of his back. He opened the guest bedroom, but there were no lights to be turned on in that room. Crossing the room to the balcony doors, he found them locked. When he turned, he saw Rosie heading for the master.

  “Damn it,” he growled, stalking out of the room. He caught up to her in the hallway. “Didn’t I say stay behind me?”

  “I am,” she insisted.

  “No. No, you’re not.” Stepping around her, he approached the double doors that led to the master. He pushed the door open and scanned the large room as his eyes adjusted to the moonlit room. “Hmm.” Spying something on the floor, he went into the room and bent over, picking it up. “I think I found the source of the noise.”

  Rosie walked over to him, the green light on the recording still shining. “A worker’s helmet?”

  “Yes.” He turned to the workbench that sat in the corner. “It must’ve fallen off and rolled across the floor.”

  She stood in the center of the room, staring at him as pale moonlight glanced off the curve of her cheek. “Does a rolling helmet sound like footsteps to you?”

  Well, not exactly. “What we heard in a dark, quiet house that you think might be haunted sounded like footsteps. That doesn’t mean they were footsteps.”

  “And there is no way what we heard was a helmet rolling across the floor,” she argued. “And by the way, how did it fall off the bench and roll across the floor? Invisible wind?”

  He
started to smile, but stopped himself. “It probably was just placed on the edge of the bench and us walking around disturbed it. And, by the way, all wind is invisible.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Whatever. I’m going to get the EMF meter.”

  “EMF what—”

  Rosie was already gone from the room.

  Shaking his head, he placed the helmet back on the workbench and decided to check the other rooms, which he did. Nothing was out of place and there was no ghost hiding in a closet. He had no idea what they’d heard, whether it was the helmet or a spirit, and he doubted anything Rosie was doing was going to prove it either way.

  Rosie was currently walking from room to room with some kind of electronic magnetic reader while asking the same damn questions she’d asked downstairs.

  As he quietly trailed behind her, he could practically picture Gabe’s and Lucian’s faces if they saw him right now. Lucian had been amused when he’d gotten the keys from him earlier, but he imagined they would either be shocked or they would’ve passed out from laughter.

  The EMF detector didn’t pick up on any weird readings according to Rosie, but that hadn’t deterred her. It felt like an eternity she spent upstairs, moving from asking vague and open-ended questions to more detailed ones. Was the spirit around during the Civil War? Was their death recent? As they walked back into what was to become Lucian and Julia’s master bedroom and the rough-in bathroom, she waited several seconds, sometimes even minutes before asking another question.

  Dev was learning that this ghost-hunting stuff took a hell of a lot of patience.

  There was a good chance that if he was with anyone else, he’d be bored out of his fucking mind. Then again, he wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else, but he found the whole thing with Rosie quite . . . entertaining. Rosie was very serious about this. She remained alert as minutes turned into hours. If there was so much as a floorboard creaking somewhere in the house, she would become very still and quiet and listen for about five minutes, and if he made a noise during that time, like breathed too loudly, she’d hush him.

  He didn’t find the hushing as annoying as he did the first time she’d done it.

  But even as entertaining as it was to just stand back and watch Rosie, by the time they made it back downstairs, he almost shouted with relief when she turned off the recorder. “Are we done?”

  She laughed as she picked up the backpack and placed it on the covered counter in the kitchen. “Not quite.”

  For some reason, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved to hear that or disappointed. “You’ve literally asked every question known to man. What more can you do?”

  “Lots. I need to take pictures.”

  “Pictures?”

  She nodded as she pulled out a small camera. “Sometimes you can catch a spirit or an orb—”

  “Or a particle of dust?” he suggested.

  Rosie sent him a droll look. “Sometimes you can catch spirits on film. We use a camera that produces high-resolution images,” she explained. “Often, once you load them up, you’ll find things in the pictures you couldn’t see with your own eyes.”

  “Is it necessary?”

  “Yes.” She looked over at him. “You can always leave and come back when I’m done. No one is forcing you to be here.”

  That was true.

  But he didn’t leave.

  Instead, he trailed behind her once more, going from room to room while she took pictures.

  “I hear Nikki is moving back into her apartment soon,” she said as they walked through the living room.

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “Guess that makes you happy.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “She grew up in that house. I’m used to seeing her around.”

  She snapped a picture and the flash was nearly blinding. “I imagine it won’t be long before Gabe and Nikki are living together. With Lucian moving out, you’re going to be . . .” She paused and then sang, “All by yooourseeelf. You’re gonna be, all by yooourseeelf.”

  He slowly turned to her. “Please don’t do that again.”

  She giggle-snorted as she turned, snapping another picture at, literally, a corner. “That’s a hell of a house to be living in with no one else there.”

  “It is.” Dev wasn’t sure how much he planned on being there once everyone was gone.

  Rosie moved toward the stairs and then stopped, turning to him. “I want to ask you a question that’s just a nosy question that would be normal asking anyone else.”

  “Then why wouldn’t it be normal asking me?”

  She lowered the camera. “Because you’ll probably think I’m asking for some nefarious reasons.”

  “Possibly,” he admitted. “Guess you won’t know if you don’t ask.”

  Rosie laughed at that and started up the steps once more. “I guess not.”

  He waited for her to continue as he followed her. “So, you’re not going to ask?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  Dev frowned. “Ask, Rosie.”

  She reached the top of the steps, stopping to take a picture. “What happened with you and your fiancée?”

  That was not a question he was expecting, and suspicion blossomed. “What do you mean?”

  Taking a picture of the other side of the hallway, she then started walking again. “I get why you two aren’t together. I mean, what her brother tried to do . . .” She trailed off. “I guess if you really cared about someone, you’d work through that, even as crazy as that is.”

  “I guess you would,” he murmured.

  Facing him, she inclined her head to the side. A moment passed. “I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?”

  “That you said you didn’t love her—well, you didn’t say that exactly, but that’s what it sounded like.” Rosie turned and walked into the closet bedroom. “Why would you be engaged to marry someone you didn’t love?”

  Dev wasn’t sure how he could answer her question. He had to be careful. If she was working with Ross, he could use this information to either embarrass his family or hold it over his head to get the information Ross thought Dev could provide.

  Rosie took another picture. “You don’t have to answer my question.”

  “I know.” He waited out in the hallway as she moved around the room, taking a picture of the wall. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then tried again. “The Harringtons were friends of Lawrence’s and we went to the same schools and university. Lawrence always had an eye on their business and I think . . . he liked the idea of our two families being joined.”

  She angled her body toward him. “You basically had a financially arranged marriage?”

  He coughed out a dry laugh. “I guess you could look at it that way. He wanted one of us to marry one of the Harringtons, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  He stepped out of the way as she came out of the room. “But it didn’t work out.”

  “Well, I guess it’s a blessing in the long run.” She moved toward the other door. “You won’t be stuck with someone you don’t love. Rather be alone than that.”

  Dev didn’t have a response for that. He never loved someone other than family. “You’ve heard she’s missing, right?” he asked to see what her response would be. “Sabrina?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.” Rosie walked into the master. “That’s kind of insane. Makes you wonder if she had anything to do with what Parker tried.”

  His brows knitted as he stared at her back. Sabrina was behind what Parker had tried to do. Either Nikki hadn’t told Rosie that or she was playing him.

  “Hopefully someone finds her,” she continued, snapping a picture. “For Nikki’s sake at least, because I know it freaks her out even if she hasn’t really said anything. It would freak me out.”

  Dev watched her take several pictures in the master. “You loved your husband?”

  “With every breath I take.” She came out of the room. “I’m done up here.”

&nb
sp; He nodded as they started back downstairs. “You said with every breath you take. In present tense.”

  “Yeah,” she said, sounding confused. “Just because he’s no longer here, doesn’t mean I’ll stop loving him. A part of me always will.”

  Dev started to ask her what happened to him, but stopped himself. That piece of knowledge didn’t tell him anything about her being a risk and it was . . . it was too personal. He didn’t need to know.

  Returning to the bag in the kitchen, she placed the camera on the counter and pulled out something that reminded him of an old AM/FM radio. “Before you ask, we’re not done yet. I need to use the spirit box.”

  “A spirit box?”

  A worrisome smile appeared as she nodded. “Oh you’re going to hate this.”

  Rosie was so right.

  From the moment she turned on the spirit box and it started rapidly flipping through radio channels, scanning radio frequencies at an alarming rate, Devlin looked like he wanted to pick it up and throw it through a window.

  Or throw himself out the window.

  She had to struggle not to laugh through the whole thing. There weren’t any voices coming through the frequencies, so she did Devlin a favor and didn’t mess with it for long.

  The moment she turned the thing off, Dev rubbed at the center of his brow. “That was the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever heard. I’m convinced that could be used as an effective torture device.”

  Rosie giggled as she turned the kitchen lights back on. It was pretty bad. “All I need to do is set up some cameras and then we’ll be done.”

  “Cameras?”

  “Just two small ones. One upstairs in the master bedroom, where the helmet walked across the floor.” She grinned when his eyes narrowed. “And then probably one down here . . .” She twisted around as she pulled a camera out of her bag. “I think in here is good. Gets you a decent view.”

  Devlin offered to help, but she waved him off. It would take longer explaining how to set it up than it would for her just to do it. By the time she came back downstairs, Devlin was leaning against the island, thumbing through his phone. It was late, close to two in the morning, and the man looked as pristine and crisp as he did when she showed up.