by Kat Martin
Outlaw Ghost
by
Kat Martin
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2018 by Kat Martin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Wolfpack Publishing
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Author’s Note
KAT'S LATEST RELEASE: THE DECEPTION (BOOK 2)
BUY LINK: THE DECEPTION
THE CONSPIRACY (BOOK 1)
BUY LINKS: THE CONSPIRACY
MAXIMUM SECURITY SERIES
Links to more of Kat's romantic suspense books!
Chapter One
Sweet Springs, Texas
A harsh wind pulled at the branches outside the window. The howl of a coyote echoed mournfully from the hills overlooking the property at the edge of town. Beneath the old-fashioned quilt on the antique iron bed, Callie Sutton listened to a different sound, this one coming from inside the old Victorian house.
It was an eerie sound, disturbing, a strangely human sound. As if someone walked through the silent rooms then climbed the stairs. As if someone opened the door and came into her room. As if he stood at the foot of her bed.
Since the door was firmly closed and locked, it was impossible, yet the feeling of being watched would not go away.
The tempo of her heart increased and her nerves stretched taut as Callie searched the darkness but found no one there. She told herself it was all in her mind, nothing more than the normal creaks and groans of a house this old. The Victorian home she had inherited from a distant aunt had been empty and in disrepair for more than thirty years.
But the moment she had seen the charming turret in front and wrap-around porch, the lovely built-in bookcases, molded ceilings and ornate woodwork, she had fallen in love with the place.
The renovations she’d had done before she moved in were mostly finished, the kitchen and baths remodeled, the hardwood floors refinished, the fireplace repaired and a fire crackling in the hearth in the evenings.
The work that remained was mostly superficial and of course she had a ton of decorating to do. Callie was looking forward to that. Or at least she had been until the ghostly sounds in the house at night continued to grow more pronounced.
Awake now, Callie stared up at the ceiling, her ears straining for any indication of a threat, but the house had fallen silent. Eventually, her heartbeat returned to normal and her body relaxed.
She yawned, sleepy from a long day at the clinic and putting up wallpaper in the kitchen when she got home after work.
As a veterinarian technician, she had been hired by the county vet, Dr. Reynolds, who was badly in need of help. Callie worked mostly with small animals, while Doc Reynolds specialized in large animals, a necessity in a ranching community like the tiny Texas town of Sweet Springs.
Since the clinic at the end of Main Street was always busy, Callie would be facing another hectic day tomorrow. She needed to get some sleep. She yawned again and her eyes drifted closed as an odd sense of peace stole over her. It had happened before and perhaps that was the reason she wasn’t more afraid.
She didn’t believe in ghosts. On the other hand, if there were such a thing, this one seemed strangely protective. A smile touched her lips as she drifted deeper into sleep and Callie started to dream.
He was tall, in snug dark pants, a full-sleeved white linen shirt, and tall black boots. He wore a black flat-brimmed hat, and a gun belt hung from his lean hips, the pistol strapped to a muscled thigh. She tried to see his face beneath the brim of the hat but caught just the hint of a hard jaw covered by several days’ growth of dark beard.
He stood at the foot of the bed as if he watched over her. He looked like an outlaw, she thought in some corner of her mind, a gunslinger right out of the Wild West. She should have been frightened but she wasn’t afraid. Instead she felt safe, protected.
She settled into an even deeper sleep and didn’t wake up until morning, the dream no more than a hazy memory.
Callie showered and dressed in jeans and a lightweight sweater just warm enough for the end-of-October weather, then headed downstairs for coffee and toast before she drove to work.
She loved her newly remodeled country kitchen. She’d almost had the servant’s stairs removed but they were part of the original structure so she had left them. Turned out they were handy and added a certain charm. She’d found an antique oak table and topped it with pretty yellow placemats that matched the walls, making the big kitchen feel cozy.
Callie glanced at the table, an uneasy feeling creeping through her. At the sight of the single red rose lying on top, her insides tightened. Someone had been inside the house!
Her hands shook as she pulled the phone out of her pocket and dialed 9-1-1. Dear God, was the intruder still somewhere inside? Her gaze shot to the back door, saw that the lock had been pried open, and a chill rolled down her spine.
She thought of the eerie sounds in the house last night and how she had felt safe and protected.
Clearly she wasn’t as safe as she thought.
Chapter Two
“Sweet Springs Sheriff’s Office,” a woman’s voice answered. “Millie speaking, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone broke into my house last night. They left a rose on my kitchen table while I was asleep upstairs.”
“A rose, huh? Old boyfriend, maybe?” Clearly a town the size of Sweet Springs didn’t have a lot of crime.
“I don’t have any old boyfriends,” Callie said. “I just moved here. I-I’m afraid he might still be in the house.”
Millie’s voice sobered. “What’s your address?”
Callie gave her the property address on Pecan Lane. “It’s the old Victorian at the edge of town.”
“Stay on the line. I’m calling Sheriff Trask. He isn’t that far away.”
Callie’s stomach churned for the entire five minutes that passed before she heard the crunch of gravel and the engine of a vehicle pulling up in front. Through the dining room window, she saw a white extended cab pickup, the word SHERIFF in big blue letters on the door.
The sheriff got out, a tall man in dark brown uniform pants and a light beige short-sleeved shirt, a badge pinned to the front. He wore a beige cowboy hat and a pistol holstered on the belt at his waist.
“He’s here,” Callie said to Millie with relief. The call ended and she hurried to the front door to let him in.
“Callie Sutton?” the sheriff asked, looking down at her from beneath the brim of his hat. He had the bluest eyes Callie had ever seen.
“That’s me. Please come in.”
“Sheriff Brendan Trask. Let me take a look around then we’ll talk.”
“Thank you. I don’t think he’s still here, but I don’t know for sure.”
He nodded and started moving silently through the house. She noticed he unsnapped the flap on his holster, and the chill returned.
Callie was five foot three, the sheriff at least a foot taller. He was swarthy and with his strong jaw and incredible blue eyes, he was handsome. A pair of powerful biceps stretched the sleeves of his uniform shirt. His shoulders were wide, his waist and hips narrow.
&
nbsp; If he wasn’t married, he was probably the most eligible bachelor in Sweet Springs County.
He returned a few minutes later. “Nobody here. Looks like he came in through the back door.”
“I guess I should have bought a better lock.”
“Rob Solomon over at the hardware store can sell you something reliable. He can put it on for you, too.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Millie mentioned the rose. You found it on the kitchen table?”
“Yes. I haven’t touched anything.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “I suppose it could be kids or someone’s idea of a joke. If it is, it isn’t funny.”
“Breaking and entering is never a joke, Ms. Sutton.”
They walked together into the kitchen and he took a second look around, focused his attention on the rose. “You didn’t hear anything?”
How to answer. She heard the same noises she’d been hearing every night, the sound of a man’s boots on the stairs and someone walking into her bedroom. But she couldn’t tell the sheriff there might be a ghost in the house.
It was ridiculous. She didn’t even believe in ghosts.
“I didn’t hear anything that sounded like a door being forced open or anyone moving around in the kitchen. Just someone upstairs in my room. But she didn’t think a ghost could force open a door or carry a rose into the kitchen.
“I want to dust the door for prints. I’ll be right back.” The sheriff disappeared outside and returned with what she assumed was a fingerprint kit.
He set his hat aside as he dusted the door and the table, and she admired his thick, slightly too long, dark brown hair. He bagged the rose as evidence and asked her a few more questions, then she walked him to the door.
“Be sure and take care of that lock,” he said.
“I’ll call Rob Solomon right away.”
He nodded, glanced around the living room. “You did a nice job restoring the place. Looks like it must have more than a hundred years ago, only better.”
She smiled at the compliment. “Thank you.” Not many people had been over for a visit since she’d moved in, just her best friend, Lanni Bridges, who’d come down from San Antonia, and one of the girls who worked part time for Dr. Reynolds.
The sheriff pulled open the front door. “Like you said, it’s probably just kids, but you don’t want to take any chances.” Those amazing blue eyes fixed on her face. “I’ll give you my cell phone number. I don’t live far away. If you hear something, call me.”
She punched his number into her phone. As the sheriff put his hat back on and settled the brim low across his forehead, Callie felt a warm tug in the pit of her stomach.
She blinked in surprise. She hadn’t felt the least attraction to a man since she and Adam had split up almost a year ago.
“I’ll keep you posted on what I find out,” Sheriff Trask said.
Callie watched him walk away and tried not to think he looked nearly as good from the back as the front. She hadn’t noticed a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married or seriously involved with someone. A man like that had his choice of women.
Not that it really mattered. She was too busy getting settled at the clinic to think about a man.
Well, other than the ghost upstairs.
Chapter Three
After a hard day at the animal clinic that included a battle with a wily Siamese cat named Hugo armed with the sharpest claws Callie ever had seen, she prayed for an uneventful evening. Besides working late to help the doctor sew up a car-chasing dog hit by a pickup, she had worried about her intruder all day.
The house was quiet when she got home, no sign of anything out of place. She zapped a frozen lasagna dinner in the newly installed microwave, ate and went straight up to bed. She drifted off more easily than she had expected and settled into a deep slumber.
She wasn’t sure when she started to dream, only that the tall outlaw cowboy was back in her room and this time he was in her bed.
He was leaning over her, kissing the side of her neck, his big hands lightly caressing her breasts through her thin white nylon nightgown. She moaned as he trailed kisses along her throat and over her cheek, and soft male lips settled on her mouth.
Warmth spread through her, slid into her core. It’s a dream, she told herself as a memory of last night’s dream returned. Why not enjoy it?
Parting her lips, she opened to invite her dream lover in and the kiss turned hot and deep. A hard chest pressed against her breasts and big calloused hands roamed over her body.
It had been so long since anyone had touched her that way, so long since she had actually felt this kind of desire.
The dream shifted a little and he was naked, his body hard and muscled over hers. She could feel his heavy arousal nestled between her legs--for a dream, it was incredibly real.
She allowed the fantasy to continue, her body responding to the skillful touches of the outlaw’s hands and the saturating pleasure of his mouth moving hotly over hers.
When a noise downstairs penetrated her senses, threatening to disturb the dream, irritation trickled through her. Damn, she didn’t want the dream to end. With a sigh of resignation, Callie stirred awake and opened her eyes, expecting to be looking at the ceiling above the bed.
Instead, she stared into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
Callie screamed.
Chapter Four
In an instant, the man was gone, vanished like the ghostly vision he had been.
Her heart was racing, her body still flushed with heat. Callie tried to tell herself the face of the outlaw she had seen was just part of the dream, that she hadn’t awoken and seen a blue-eyed man in bed with her who looked almost exactly like the handsome county sheriff.
It was the almost that was the problem. The outlaw had a scar along the bottom of his jaw that the sheriff did not have.
The noise came again, pulling her back from the fantasy, the sound of glass shattering downstairs--someone breaking the window in the kitchen. Fresh fear assailed her. The ghost was gone but what about the man who had broken into her house last night?
She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and hit the sheriff’s contact number.
“Trask,” he said, his voice crystal clear, as if he’d instantly come awake.
“Sheriff, it’s...it’s Callie Sutton. He’s…he’s in the house. He broke out a window. Oh, God...he’s...coming up the stairs.”
“On my way. Lock yourself in the bathroom, Callie. Stay there till I tell you to come out. I’ll keep the line open, but the call may drop. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
She heard fabric rustling as Trask pulled on his clothes. Callie grabbed her white terry robe and hurriedly shrugged it on.
As she turned toward the bathroom, she heard sounds outside the bedroom door. A struggle, some kind of fight going on, a foul curse, then the heavy thud of something crashing down the stairs.
Oh, dear God. “Sheriff? Sheriff Trask are you there?”
But as he had warned, the call had dropped and the line was dead. He’s on his way, she reminded herself. All I have to do is survive until he gets here.
Her gaze shot to the bedroom door. Rob Solomon had installed a new lock on the kitchen door downstairs, but the lock on the bedroom door was old and hadn’t been replaced. She should barricade herself in the bathroom as Sheriff Trask had told her, but the lock was no better in there and she didn’t like the idea of being trapped inside.
Callie listened. The only sound was the fierce beating of her heart. Instead of the usual creaks and groans, the house was eerily silent. Too silent, she thought, a shiver running over her skin.
Headlights flashed into the bedroom. She hurried to the window and saw Sheriff Trask’s pickup pull up in front of the house. Thank you, God.
Her cell phone rang. She answered with unsteady hands.
“Callie, are you all right?”
“I think he’s gone. Just in case, I’ll come down the back stairs and let
you in through the kitchen.”
“Be careful,” Trask said.
Callie grabbed the flashlight she kept beside the bed, unlocked the bedroom door, and peered into the hall. Seeing nothing, she quietly headed for the servants’ stairs leading down to the kitchen. As she passed the round oak table, she shined a light on top and there it was--another long-stemmed red rose.
Fear quickened her footsteps. She unlocked the newly installed deadbolt, the sheriff strode into the kitchen, and relief poured through her.
“Stay here.” His gun was in his hand as he made his way out of the kitchen and began to search the house.
She couldn’t help noticing the lack of a scar beneath his hard jaw.
Chapter Five
Brendan moved silently though the house, quietly checking each room. First floor clear. He headed for the staircase, shined his light in that direction and stopped cold in his tracks.
Death had an aura about it. The bald, muscular man sprawled on the stairs with his mouth gaping open, sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling, reeked of it.
Brendan knelt to check for a pulse, but there was really no need. He stepped back and took a moment to study the scene. From the angle of the man’s neck and the way the body had landed, it didn’t look like the guy could have accidentally fallen down the stairs.
Brendan’s gaze shot to the landing at the top. If it wasn’t an accident, who had killed him? Was the perp still in the house? Brendan made a room-by-room search, but found no sign of an intruder. He returned to the crime scene and phoned the coroner, a local physician named Elias Halpern, rousing him from sleep.
Brendan looked back at the dead man on the stairs. The guy was big and strong. Had the pretty little brunette in the kitchen somehow managed to overpower him? It didn’t seem likely. Even if by some miracle she had killed him, he was trespassing in her house. The lady would have been justified, at least as far as Brendan was concerned. Still, she could be in for a lot of trouble and legal expense.