Ghost's Treasure

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Ghost watched her walk toward the cabin, her weapon in hand. Ryan was right. She's too good to die for something that's of no fault of her own.

  One way or another, he'd get her through this in one piece.

  Chapter 23

  What on earth possessed me to tell Josie such personal things earlier? He'd not breathed a word about his life to a soul for years, not to his employers or his work family. Such was the life of a Navy SEAL. Missions and locations didn't exist, same with fame or fortune. To prevent retaliation upon families, the SEAL hierarchy made a policy to never name the individual responsible for an action, particularly if the tango happened to be a powerful official. He'd learned years ago to keep his mouth shut.

  So why did he break his own code and spill the beans about his own tragedy?

  To stop her ridiculous acclamations, that's why. A hero? What crap. He needed to yank those rose-colored glasses off her face and force her to see the truth. Only, his plan backfired when she pressed him into revealing the most painful experience in a life filled with violence.

  Then she looked upon him with such softness, hope, and great admiration, his gut clenched. Add in the overflowing sympathy and he couldn't stop himself from telling her the hard truth. Something he hadn't done. Ever.

  In that moment, he almost needed to dash her beliefs, to prove her flowery outlook wrong. He was a killer. Period. Why couldn't she see that for herself?

  He shook his head and paused at the stoplight, glancing over at the little blonde with the green eyes who reminded him so much of his deceased wife. She lived in a world of naivety and goodness, a complete contrast to his reality. Yet when she offered comfort, he found himself soaking the support up like a dried out sponge. The words, her gestures, soothed his bubbling rage for a moment in time. An enigma his curiosity prodded him to pursue.

  "Where are we going to go?" she asked quietly from the passenger seat of the SUV.

  They had packed up their gear and clothing from the cabin in record time, leaving the white tracer pen behind for the Feds to collect along with the bodies. After a tense moment traveling back down the one lane road, expecting an ambush and finding none, they hit the highway and drove back toward home.

  "I'm not sure yet. We'll call Ryan in a few and find out."

  "Another safe house?"

  He shrugged. "Probably. Since we left the tracer behind, we shouldn't be high risk for discovery."

  "They know about the first safe house and the cabin. They'd expect us to pack up and move to another. Would it be a wise move to go back to the first one?"

  He spared her a glance, impressed with her line of thought. "Interesting idea. Unfortunately, with the one man getting away, he's likely to bring back reinforcements. I don't want to take a chance on facing a small army if we don't have to. By moving around, they'll have to take time to search, giving us the advantage."

  She sighed. "Not that I'm complaining, but this constantly on the move thing is tiring."

  He could empathize, but that didn't change the facts. "Until all the heads of the hydra are cut off, we may do quite a bit of traveling."

  Twisting in her seat, she faced him. "We? You led me to believe you'd only give me a week before Ryan had to find a replacement."

  He sucked in a deep breath. He should return her to Ryan and let the FBI finish cleaning up the mess. The idea made his gut clench in protest. In truth, he couldn't trust them to protect her, not like he could. She deserved the best. Him.

  Besides, these thugs pissed him off. He wouldn't quit until they were all dead or rounded up in the slammer and Josie could return to her life safely.

  Pausing at a stoplight, he turned to meet her gaze. "I'm in this for the long haul."

  Her relief was palpable. "Thank you."

  His cell rang, breaking into the conversation. Glancing at the caller ID, he passed the device over to Josie.

  She lifted an eyebrow then answered. "Hello?"

  "Josie? It's Ryan."

  "Oh, hi." She mouthed his name to Ghost.

  He nodded, although he already knew who since Ryan and Night, the Wind Warrior team leader, were the only two to have the secured number.

  "A new place? We figured as much." Josie continued on with the phone conversation. "Okay. Let me get a piece of paper." She grabbed a small notebook from the dash, pulled the pen from the wire binding, and began writing. "Twenty-five forty-three north Chestnut Road. Got it. What's the entry code? Okay."

  "You've got it all?" Ryan's voice came across loud from the phone.

  Josie jumped. "Oh, sorry. I must have hit the speaker phone button."

  "It's fine like this." Ghost spun the steering wheel for a turn. "What about the callers? Have you corralled them yet?"

  "Yeah. Those are taken care of. It's just this one persistent jackass who won't stop."

  "Is her apartment still trashed?"

  Josie sucked in a breath but listened intently, eager to determine the state of her home. She held the phone out so they both could hear easily.

  "Yeah. We collected our evidence, but I'm afraid it's a huge mess."

  "Clean it up."

  "What? Who do you think we are? Hired maids?" Ryan snorted through the line.

  Ghost glanced at the phone, his voice lowering. "Something tells me we're going to need that place to look lived in before this is all said and done. Can you at least do that much?"

  A long pause carried before Ryan answered. "Yeah. Can't promise it will be a whole lot better, but I'm sure the clean-up team can at least make a pathway so it appears someone has started on the process."

  "Thanks. We left the tracer pen for you at the cabin. Figured it might have prints."

  "Good deal. I'll make sure the recovery team picks it up and brings it in for analysis. Oh, and before I forget, there's already a treadmill at the new place."

  Her lips turned up. "Thank you. I'm sure it's a huge pain, but I really appreciate it."

  "No problem. Can't have cranky-butt leashing you like a hyper Jack Russell terrier when you bounce on his last nerve." The agent's voice took on a teasing quality.

  Ghost snorted.

  Feeling a bit mischievous, Josie looked over at her bodyguard, then focused back on the phone. "You'd be grouchy too if you ran around commando all the time. Think about all the hair pulling and chafing. The least you could do is to drop off some fresh underwear for him at the next house." She spoke tongue in cheek and waited.

  Ryan burst out in laughter.

  Ghost shot her a droll stare, but she didn't miss the twitching of his lips and the tiny spark of amusement in his normally flat eyes. Another telltale sign her efforts were working, slowly but surely.

  "I can manage that. What size does he wear?"

  Josie beamed at Ghost. "Oh, I'd say at least a large. Make it extra large. He wouldn't be happy with his man parts squished."

  Her bodyguard shook his head. "Man parts?"

  She blinked at him. "Would you prefer penis?"

  Ryan cackled in the background. They ignored him.

  "I'd prefer you stop worrying about my underwear or lack of."

  "Why? It's kind of entertaining."

  "Blake?" Ghost called out, using Ryan's last name.

  "Yeah?"

  "I might need that leash after all."

  Josie sighed dramatically. "Just great. I'm stuck with the bodyguard with a bondage fetish. My lucky day."

  For the first time, Josie saw Ghost actually smile. Not enough to show teeth, but definitely an upturn of his lips. The result was breathtaking. His already handsome face stepped up a notch with the softening and easing of tension. Excitement at the small victory washed over her.

  "You guys got awfully quiet," Ryan noted with concern.

  Ghost didn't answer, prompting Josie to reassure their contact. "If you could see the look on his face. I swear he's running some bondage fantasies through his mind right now."

  "Uh huh. I really don't want to know. So I'm off here. Call later to che
ck in or if something else comes up." With that said, he clicked off.

  Josie punched the button to end the connection from their side.

  Ghost pulled into the parking lot of a small neighborhood restaurant and cut the engine. That done, he turned to stare at her. "Bondage fantasies?"

  Her face immediately heated. She swallowed loudly. "Well…"

  Humor flashed in his eyes, this time remaining a bit longer. "Seems to me you're the one with the bondage fetish and fantasies."

  A blast furnace raked across her face. "No. Oh, no. I don't… I… Just no way on earth." She squirmed and waved her hands.

  Ghost grinned once more, started to reach for her, then stopped. For a long moment, his hand hovered inches from her face as if he meant to cup her cheek but had second thoughts. She held her breath and waited only for his hand to lower as his face hardened back to his typical stern expression.

  "Let's get something to eat, then we'll check out the new place."

  With a nod, Josie unfastened her seat belt, allowing herself to breathe after the moment that came a hair's breadth from happening. She achieved one goal with Ghost's fleeting smile. Yet she needed more. She wanted him to finish what he started, touch her, laugh with her in banter. Good thing she possessed enough stubbornness to outlast a mule. She'd need to draw on every bit in order to realize her second goal. Getting Ghost to laugh. Improbable but not impossible. After all, a few days ago, she didn't think she had much of a chance of seeing any emotion in those lifeless eyes. With renewed determination, she slid out of the vehicle and shut the door behind her.

  Chapter 24

  Pulling into the driveway, Ghost hopped out, plugged the code into the automatic door opener, then climbed back in. As soon as the SUV sat squarely in the garage, he climbed out once more.

  "Stay here." With that said, he strode to the entrance, punched the button to lower the garage door, and entered the house.

  Stalking through, he performed a quick, yet thorough appraisal, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Sure enough, a treadmill stood in the living room, and some new clothes lay across one of the beds. Nothing seemed amiss.

  Except his behavior. What in the hell came over me? Her quirky teasing released the padlock on his sense of humor, allowing the long forgotten sensation to wash over him, especially when she painted herself in a corner and blushed hot enough to toast bread.

  He could forgive himself for the smile at her silliness, but the near touch rocked him to the core. Since when did he turn soft? Want to tenderly run his fingers over the cheek of a woman under his protection? His job was simply to keep her alive, not to make the moves on a vulnerable woman who most likely looked at dating as a path toward marriage. A trail he refused to travel again.

  Almost breaching his personal rules, he cussed himself for his own stupidity. He couldn't protect her if he faced multiple distractions. From her.

  He admired her body, as one athlete might appreciate another's and as a man noticing a beautiful young woman. Her courage and bravery impressed him as did her quirkiness, which kept him on his toes and pushed him to rediscover lighthearted teasing and humor. Rolled into one, Josie would be the kind of woman he'd like to hang around, maybe even see now and again.

  She's the commitment kind, you idiot. And the person you're supposed to protect.

  He sighed, torn between familiar policies and absolute black and white lines and the newly appearing grayness in between. "Damn it to hell." In order for this job to be a success, he needed to regain control and fast. The sooner he finished this mission and went his own way, the better.

  Spinning on his heel, he strode back through the house toward the garage. By the time he reached the door leading from the kitchen into the garage, he once again locked his focus in place.

  Chapter 25

  The only words he'd spoken since they arrived at the third safe house in less than a week simply assured her the house checked out clean. Since then, he busied himself studying windows, doors, locks, even the exterior, presumably searching for any weakness or avenue of entrance. Hopefully, with the tracer left behind, they wouldn't have to suffer through another late night invasion.

  He strode over to his duffle, pulled out his rifle, a bottle of oil, a rag, and began to clean. She'd watched him care for his weapons numerous times in their brief acquaintance. A clean gun is a working gun. Her father's quote sprang into her mind from years of helping him at his gun shop and her time as a competitive athlete. Still, Ghost's firearms probably received more attention than necessary, leading her to believe he fell back on the old, familiar task to keep his hands and mind busy.

  The change in Ghost's behavior hadn't been missed. Instead of begrudging the fact her bodyguard once more resembled a drill sergeant, she took hope in the small breakthrough today. If she read him correctly, the return of a couple of emotions didn't set well. He'd just have to get used to it. After all, she prodded him to find his humanity once more, to experience life to its fullest, not just the heat of battle but the softer, kinder moments as well. He deserved happiness.

  "Need some help? I can work on the rifle I used earlier."

  He shook his head.

  The silent treatment. Again. She tried a different direction. "The freezer and refrigerator look fairly stocked, so I can make just about anything. What sounds good to you?"

  "I'm not hungry."

  Her temper began to spark. Ignoring her was one thing, ignoring the needs of his body another. The man barely slept. She drew the line at eating. "Fine. I'll just fix something anyway."

  Continuing with his task, he didn't even bother acknowledging her presence.

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him coolly. Unable to stand the growing tension, she tossed out the first pitch. "Care to tell me what I've done to piss you off royal?"

  Ghost remained mute.

  She saw red. How could they be a team when he clearly carried some unbeknownst animosity toward her? He might go through the motions of his job, but she needed to be along for every step of the way. Her sanity depended upon it.

  "You told me you were in this for the long haul." Her voice took on an angry tone.

  He looked up to meet her gaze. "Yes."

  "Are you regretting those words? Tired of playing the role of babysitter? Eager to return to the front lines as a highly paid assassin?" She tossed out anything she could think of, knowing he'd never volunteer the information.

  "No. I'll finish what I started."

  "And you hate that, don't you?" When he shook his head, she threw her hands up in the air. "You're chained to me and can't stand another day of being in my presence."

  "No. Can't you get anything through your hard head today?" His tone filled with a hint of impatience and a hefty dose of frustration. "I'm not going anywhere and leaving you to fend for yourself."

  "Why? If you are so fed up with this job, why would you stick around when the FBI can find a replacement?" Hands on hips, she demanded an answer. What she received nearly knocked her off her feet.

  "Because you've gotten under my skin, lady."

  She blinked and gasped at his declaration. Frustration spurred her onward. "Which you absolutely dislike."

  "Do you know what it's like to have your heart torn out? Do you?"

  She shook her head. "No."

  "It's like your world came to a screeching halt, leaving you with a spear implanted in your belly. You can't remove it, and nothing you do eases the pain. Days drag on in agony. Until one day you find a way to survive. By burying the past and never digging it up again." He set the rifle aside. "I was just fine until you came along, deciding to push me into facing those demons again. Damn you for that."

  Her mouth fell open as she gathered her wits. "If you can feel something again, even anger, then I've succeeded. You can't go through life like a zombie, Ghost. Yes, Lindsay is gone and will never return. You said it yourself, you had to bury the past and move on. Only you didn't move forward, you keep circling the same spot over
and over again. After everything you've been through and done, you deserve a future."

  "Bullshit." He stood up and frowned down at her, his voice gaining in sharpness.

  "Call me an imbecile, but I can't give up on you or walk away and pretend you aren't suffering. Not after everything you've done." She marched over to stand directly in front of him, not the least intimidated by his sheer size and the fact he towered over her by a good head.

  "I don't want your help or pity."

  "It's not pity, damn it. It's caring. I care about you. So buck up, soldier, and deal." She punctuated each word by poking him in the chest with her index finger.

  For a long moment, they stared at one another. Regret grew as she feared she crossed a hard line.

  Then he growled, pulled her into his embrace, and meshed their lips in a fiery tempest.

  Josie hesitated only a second before responding to his demanding kiss with gusto. Opening her mouth, she not only invited his tongue to visit, but she returned the favor, aggressively seeking a deep taste of the man who drove her crazy. He tilted his head, realigned their mouths and plundered once more, seizing control, and demanding she match his need with her unbridled passion. He nipped her bottom lip, then laved his tongue over the area. Both hands cupped the back of her head, holding her still for his sensual exploration.

  She moaned low in her throat, her belly flip-flopped with exponentially growing desire. Ghost kissed her like a starving man and she was his dish of honey. He supped, licked, and pressed his body into hers. Never had she experienced such a wild ride of pleasure from a kiss. He claimed her mouth, left no spot unplundered, and poured everything he couldn't say out loud into a lip-lock so mesmerizing, so delicious, Josie's world narrowed until only they existed. She never wanted the affection to end.

  The need for oxygen made them separate all too soon. Josie panted, still standing in his embrace, her gaze once again locked on his face.