“Oh, I could—”
“Ash,” a big guy at the end of the bar, hanging on to a tiny woman next to him, called out for her. “Close me out, will ya?”
She waved at the man, fixed Mark his drink and set it before him, and then skipped over to the mismatched couple.
Ashlyn and he were now the last two people in the bar. And it appeared all the kitchen staff had left as well. She ambled back to his table and slid down across from him again.
“Do you close by yourself every night?” he asked. “That seems awfully dangerous.”
She reached into her apron, pulling out a bottle of OC spray. “I used to keep it behind the bar; now I’ve decided to keep it on me. I know it’s not a failsafe, but I figure it’ll do the trick.”
“It definitely will.” He leaned over the small round table that kept them two feet apart. He’d downed a few too many, but man, they went down smoothly. But now he didn’t like what he was thinking. “So now what?”
“Well, the old saying in the restaurant business is, ‘If you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to clean.’ The bar rarely stays empty long. But if it does, I always have something that needs cleaning.”
He laughed. She wanted to clean, and he wanted to spin her across the wood floors. “You guys play music?”
She smiled. “Sure. What kind?”
“Something slow.”
While she moved to the bar and messed with the remote control for the TV, switching the sports channel to the music channel, he moved to the farthest stool at the end of the bar. When she turned, she gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth. “Oh.” She dropped her hand and shook her head as if trying to shake off what had scared her. But her eyes glazed over.
Something inside Mark churned, and he immediately felt something for this woman. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” She shook her head again, exhaling a whoosh of air. “It’s just…you looked like...”
“A ghost?” he asked, trying to lighten the situation. “I heard you have ghosts?” He let out a half-laugh, and she nodded.
“Yeah.” She inhaled another breath as if she were trying to get her bearings.
“Wanna dance?”
“No. I couldn’t. What if—”
He stepped around the side of the bar, took her hand, and pulled her out to the center of the floor. “What if,” he repeated. “It’s not as if you’re dancing on the bar. I told you…tonight’s the first time I’ve relaxed in a long time, even though I should be working,” he twirled her out once and pulled her back, “but you’re so darn beautiful.”
She huffed out a breath as if she didn’t believe him. “What type of work should you be doing instead of playing games on your iPhone and dancing with a stranger?”
He sighed. “I interview people.”
She scrunched her eyebrows together. “What does that mean?”
“I find out if people are telling the truth.”
She stopped moving and tried to pull back. “Don’t pull away yet, Ashlyn.”
Her eyes filled. “You’re scaring me. I don’t even know your name, and you’re asking me to dance, and you’re acting all strange. Who are you?”
“I swear I won’t hurt you. Keep your hand on the pepper spray if you like.” He smiled and drew her closer. With her boots, she was the perfect height that he could tilt his head and kiss those shiny pink lips that intensified the hint of strawberry in her hair, but then she’d really freak out. And then she would freak out again when she figured out who he was. “Just dance with me for a few more minutes. Tell me about your ghosts,” he whispered in her ear. He inhaled the spicy scent of her perfume. It suited her. No flowery smell; it was fiery like her. The song changed, and she retracted again, as if to end the dance. “One more, please,” he requested with a slow smile.
She laughed, seeming to relax in his arms. “We do have ghosts. In fact, Edda was my great-grandmother.”
“Edda?”
“You haven’t heard the stories?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Should I have?”
“If you live around here, most people have. At the time, the death of Edda Barrett was the most gruesome murder on record in this area. A man discovered her when he saw buzzards flying around her remains. She had nothing on but a shredded dress, her fingertips had been practically cut off, half of her jaw had been knocked out, and if that wasn’t enough, the murderer lit her on fire and dumped her in the river. Evidently she’d been seeing—” Ashlyn clasped her hands over her mouth, and then pulled away, darting to the bathroom. “Oh, my God,” she screamed as she entered the tiny room, the door slamming behind her.
Chapter Nine
Ashlyn leaned over the toilet and threw up what remained of her lunch while the man knocked on the door.
“Ashlyn, are you okay?”
She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped her lips and then moved to the sink and washed her mouth out the best she could. Well, at least she wouldn’t be tempted to kiss the stranger, as she’d been when he was holding her.
Gawking at her image in the mirror, she almost expected to see her great-grandmother’s dead face glowering at her. She had heard all the stories, but she’d never seen her ghost. But the feeling that washed over her, the same feeling she’d had yesterday when Devin had attacked her, unnerved her. The déjà vu feeling made sense. Her great-grandmother had been brutally murdered by her boyfriend who was reportedly angry because she’d had his baby without him knowing while he was away at school. According to Ashlyn’s grandmother, who’d heard the story from her grandmother, Edda was supposed to drive to the boy’s parents and meet them for the first time. Edda had called her mother with exciting news, saying she was getting married and that she’d have a grand wedding. She hadn’t even told her parents who the boy was because he had wanted to make sure he told his parents privately.
The stranger knocked on the door again. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Just nauseated. Give me a second, please.”
“Okay,” he said from behind the door.
She stopped hyperventilating and focused her thoughts on the man outside the door. He seemed like a nice enough guy. If he’d wanted to rape her, he surely could have by now.
Ashlyn stared into the mirror again. Her situation was almost exactly the same as what her great-grandmother had experienced. Devin had been mad enough that he might have killed her. As it was, he’d tried to choke her to death, but she’d fought back. Not that it had stopped him. Even after she’d hit him over the head with a liquor bottle, he’d not released her.
She’d always seen in movies where the bottle would break. She probably hadn’t smacked him hard enough. But then—
A knock interrupted her contemplations. “There’s a group of people out here,” the man called.
“Okay. Tell them I’ll be right there.”
She washed out her mouth again, used some tissue to dab the smeared mascara from under her eyes, and left the restroom, walking directly to the stranger. “What’s your name?” she demanded.
He looked like a puppy who’d been slapped on the nose. “You have customers.”
She turned and waved. “Hey, guys. I’ll be right there.”
“No problem,” Jeff, the tallest member of the group shouted, jumping onto a stool at the opposite end of the bar. The nurses came in several times a week. They worked three twelve-hour shifts a week, so when they worked the twelve-to-twelve shifts, they swung by before last call.
Ashlyn turned to him, her hands on her hips. “Who are you?”
He released a long breath. “Promise you won’t be furious? That you’ll give me a chance to explain, understand that I’m trying to help.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How can I promise that?”
“Take care of your customers and then come talk to me, okay?”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. “Okay…Mark...” she ventured, watching as his face relaxed
. Who else could he be? It still ticked her off that he was trying to get information from her underhandedly. But technically, he hadn’t asked her anything about Devin’s death, so maybe he was just observing her, making certain she wasn’t guilty. But what if she was? What if hitting Devin on the head had knocked something loose in his brain, causing him to race out the door?
“Last call, guys,” she told her regulars as she approached.
Their laughing and carrying on stopped as their faces fell. Jeff leaned his long body over the bar. “It’s only 12:15. We got forty-five minutes, sweetheart.”
“Not tonight, Jeff. Sorry. I have an emergency.”
Jeff flashed a look over her head. “Everything okay? That’s not the normal guy. Although, he looks friendlier. That other guy who was here every night always had a scowl on his face.”
“I’m fine, but really, I gotta close down the place.”
The rest of the group whined and moaned, but they’d just head down the road to Aggie’s Tavern, she knew.
Ashlyn followed them to the door, turned off the open sign, and then locked the door behind them. When she turned, Mark—at least she assumed his name was Mark—was right behind her.
“I guess our dance is over.” He released a nervous laugh. “And yes, I’m Mark. But honestly, I meant no harm.”
“Do I need an attorney?”
“I don’t know, do you? I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here because I saw the tape.”
She narrowed her eyes in confusion.
“Not last night’s tape, the previous night. I saw how upset you were.”
“I didn’t kill him—”
“Shh…” He stepped forward. “I’m not on duty, and I’m not interviewing you.”
She gulped, wondering why she felt such an attraction to this man whom she didn’t even know. Instinctively, she licked her lips as he leaned forward, but then remembering, she jerked her head to the side. “No! I need to brush my teeth.”
He stopped his forward motion and smiled. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that. I guess I need to call a taxi anyway.”
“I’ll drive you home,” she offered. “I mean…you’re a cop, right?”
“Detective.”
She tilted her head. “You don’t look like a detective.”
“Thank God!” He laughed.
“Give me a second. I have to put away my money.” She gathered her stuff from behind the bar, threw the money from her drawer in a bank bag, and ran upstairs. It’d never creeped her out to go upstairs alone before. But realizing that what had happened to her great-grandmother could have happened to her, she felt an unnerving chill sweep through her body as she made her way up the dark stairwell to the office. The Depot had been the last place Edda had been seen alive. Some customers had claimed to feel as if they were being choked. She wondered if the man who’d killed Edda had choked her as Devin had tried to kill her last night. Maybe the feelings Edda had were now felt by others who were sensitive. She was flesh and blood to Edda, though, and she’d never felt anything.
Ashlyn locked up her money and ran downstairs to where Mark stood by the door. She’d never dated a detective before. She’d always set her sights on businessmen. Some women wanted a doctor or a lawyer, but she’d done her homework. Unless they were specialists or owned a firm, they weren’t wealthy, and they worked too many hours. Whereas a businessman, real-estate developer, or construction company owner owned their business, could make their own hours, and there was no ceiling to what she could help turn the business into. But now that she regarded the handsome man leaning against the door, she couldn’t see any of that. She just saw him and how even though he didn’t know her but a few hours, he’d wanted to comfort her when she’d been scared. Somehow, that presented a better future than money could ever buy. Her mother had been wrong; she’d been wrong.
Chapter Ten
Ashlyn knew she was probably crazy, but for some reason, she trusted Mark. Instead of driving him home, she drove toward her apartment. When she passed the street he’d told her to turn down, she saw him lean forward out of her peripherals, but he didn’t ask. She felt his gaze as it seared her, as he had done when he’d held her in his arms, before she’d rushed to the ladies’ room.
She cast him a quick glance. “I have to brush my teeth.”
He laughed. “I had an extra toothbrush. You could’ve asked.”
“Yeah, but there’s something I need to show you.”
He didn’t comment, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. Probably not. He was a man, after all.
She hit the far-right remote on the visor and the gate opened to her complex. After winding along the tree-lined road and around the first set of townhomes, she hung a right onto her private driveway. She pushed the other remote, and the garage opened.
“Nice place,” Mark commented. “You’re not dealing, are you?”
Knowing he was joking, she laughed. “No. I save every penny I make.” He nodded in appreciation, apparently not used to a woman saying that.
Ashlyn ascended the stairs leading to her townhouse. The entire bottom floor was a garage with the living area on the second floor and the bedrooms on the third floor.
“Safe place,” were Mark’s only words as they climbed the steps.
“Yeah. The stairs can be a bear when I’m bringing in groceries, but at least I don’t have to worry about someone crawling in my bedroom window.”
“Exactly.”
She unlocked the main door and escorted Mark to the living room, then opened up the balcony doors. “Make yourself at home. If you want another drink, I have wine in the fridge.” She dashed up the stairs before he could comment. She should feel nervous having a complete stranger in her house, but oddly, she felt more at ease with him than any other man she’d brought here, including Devin. She decided to rinse off the grime of the day and brush her teeth in the shower so she’d be quick. It took her less than three minutes, and she was in her room, slipping into something more comfortable, her plush Victoria’s Secret sweatshirt and sweatpants. Comfortably dressed, she sauntered down the stairs. Now, she needed to work up the nerve to show him the tape. But first he needed to hear her side of the story.
Mark held a glass of wine in his hand, and another glass sat on the coffee table. Setting his glass down, he stood as she entered the room and closed the distance between them. Wasting no time, he pulled her into his arms, and Ashlyn couldn’t help but feel completely at ease with his advance. She wanted it, longed for it even. Desire surged through her body, tingling all the way to her fingertips. She wanted him, and she’d never wanted anyone. But there was still something they should be doing instead, the reason she’d brought him here. But—it could wait, she thought as his eyes gobbled her up. Not in a lustful way, but a passion, a mutual fire that burned between them, as if they were supposed to meet.
He moved his hand under her chin, nudging it slightly. His other hand found the clip in her hair. He removed it, dropping it on the table. As he combed his fingers through her hair, he pulled her tighter against his broad chest. Her heart thrashed so wildly in anticipation of his kiss that she was sure he’d hear it. He covered her mouth with his, smoothly parting her lips. His tongue expertly explored with gentle precision, as if finding its way and unlocking the entry to her soul. She tasted the chardonnay on his tongue and wanted more—of him. The wine could wait.
Her legs felt weak, and she was certain if his arms weren’t around her, she’d melt through the floor. She inched her fingers up his chest, wrapping her hands around his neck, wondering where this man had been the last few years. She’d never felt so much passion in a kiss.
Mark led her to the sofa, never breaking the kiss. He supported her body against the backrest as he continued to kiss her, running his fingers down the side of her face, her neck, and across her collarbone.
He finally broke the kiss, but only to move to her ear. “You are beautiful, Ashlyn. And so sexy.” He moved lower, his mouth ni
bbling its way down the side of her neck, tugging on her collar so he could kiss her fully.
She threw her head back at the feel of his warm lips on her skin. “Oh, that feels so good.” And it did. No one had ever kissed her with such passion, such fervor.
He bolted upright. “Oh dear Lord, Ashlyn.”
She sat straight, pulling the top of her sweatshirt higher around her neck. She’d forgotten.
“What on earth happened?” He reached toward her, and she tried to move away, but she was trapped between him and the arm of the sofa. “He did this to you, didn’t he?” Mark demanded.
She gulped, and tears poured down her face as she nodded her answer.
Mark lifted his hand again, as if asking permission. “May I?”
Unable to speak because of the tears strangling her voice, she nodded again.
He lifted her chin to reveal the marks she’d tried to cover. Shaking his head, he ran his hand across his forehead. “Please tell me what happened. I’m not on duty, and I want to help you.”
“I’m scared.”
Chapter Eleven
Mark lifted Ashlyn’s hands. “I know. If you did anything, stop right now, and we’ll find an attorney. But if you had nothing to do with his death, talk to me.”
She shook her head, but he wasn’t sure what that meant.
Why did she have to be the first woman he’d felt something for in three years? “He hurt you?”
She nodded again.
“Why?”
She shook her head as her face puckered, not wanting to tell him, it seemed. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh.”
She nodded again. “Yep. That was his response until I told him I wouldn’t get rid of the baby.” She gasped for air. “He came in last night, right before closing. After everyone left, he grabbed me and shook me, demanding that he couldn’t ruin his life because of me…” she trailed off.
Mark squeezed her hands, encouraging her. She obviously wasn’t guilty, or she wouldn’t be talking.
“He screamed at me,” she continued. “He told me he’d pay me a hundred thousand dollars if I had an abortion. I knew then that money meant nothing to me. I wouldn’t kill my unborn child for money. So when I still refused, he started choking me.”
The Library: Where Life Checks Out Page 4