by Beth Ciotta
Rainbow Ridge, Vermont
“I’m exhausted.”
“You’re actually admitting that?”
Afia tipped up her face and kissed Jake on his cocky jaw. “You don’t look so spry either, Mr. Fix-it.”
Jake just smiled.
Rudy started to thank him again—he’d not only fixed the swing, he’d helped Murphy reposition the satellite dish—but a case of the fuzzies clogged his throat. He relaxed deeper into his recliner, the one piece of furniture that he’d brought from his old townhouse, and watched his two closest friends in the world snuggle on the antique chaise. Cocooned in her husband’s arms, Afia glowed with contentment and love. The same love radiated from Jake along with a fierce protective streak. Next month this cozy couple would expand to a family of three. A boy or a girl, he didn’t know as they’d opted to be surprised.
Jake smoothed his hand over Afia’s rounded belly and kissed the top of her head as the commercial segued back into the movie and she focused on the television. Sunshine cracked through the gloom that had dogged Rudy since daybreak. This was what he’d hoped for, the creative visualization that had cinched his decision to buy Hollyberry Inn. Aside from wanting a home and business that he could share with Jean-Pierre, he’d wanted a resort where loving couples, straight or gay, could cuddle and talk, and rediscover why they’d fallen in love in the first place.
He glanced over at Lulu and Murphy sitting together on the great room’s velvet sofa, a little less cozy, but no less in love. That blurb on Hollywood Highlights had been a kick in the gut to everyone.
Especially Lulu.
Presently, she was munching on popcorn and watching Cary Grant and Grace Kelly’s To Catch a Thief, the only movie they’d all been able to agree on. But Rudy wasn’t fooled. He knew she was thinking about that gossip feature and trying to make sense of it. Admittedly, he’d been equally surprised to learn that Sofia and Joe Bogart were an item.
Sure. There’d been some chemistry between those two over the fall during that FBI sting, but no one expected anything to come of it. Sofia sought approval and fame, while Bogie, as Murphy called him, craved justice and anonymity. Both headstrong and blind in their dedication, they clashed on several levels. Then again, Afia and Jake were as different as the sun and moon yet, somehow they made sense. As did Lulu and Murphy. And, yes dammit, he and Jean-Pierre.
What didn’t make sense was him sitting in the great room of the Hollyberry Inn, the place he’d purchased as a show of love, without the man he loved.
Sweat beaded his brow as catastrophic thoughts returned full force. During their walk, Afia had assured him nothing bad had happened to Jean-Pierre. “He’s just angry,” she’d said. “He’ll get over it.” Well, as soon as he “got over it” and called, Rudy would beg him to hop the first plane east. They’d de-ghost Hollyberry Inn together. Screw his earlier concerns. It wasn’t like JP was a wimp, far from it. If Casper lobbed a candlestick, he’d duck and curse the bitter ghost in French. Too bad he hadn’t been thinking this clearly last night. Yet again, he’d made things worse by underestimating the younger man.
Jake glanced away from the screen, rubbed the heel of his hand over his brow. “Is it hot in here, or is it me?”
“It’s not you.” Murphy shoved up the long sleeves of his crewneck pullover.
Afia yawned loudly. “It’s making me sleepy.”
“Well, I’m not tired,” Lulu said in her little girl voice. “I’m jazzed. I hope that satellite thingee doesn’t go out again, because I plan on surfing the channels after you guys go to bed. Maybe there’ll be an update on Sofie and Joe.” She glanced sideways at her husband, scowled. “I have to get my information somewhere.”
Murphy didn’t flinch. “There’s nothing to tell. They’re together. They’re fine.”
“Then, why won’t she answer her cell phone?”
“I told you, hon, the battery’s drained. And before you ask again, no, I’m not giving you Bogie’s cell number. Give them some privacy.”
The last part sounded like an order to Rudy. Then again, Murphy was former military and current leader of a protective specialist team. He routinely barked orders. Lulu routinely blew over his concerns. She had a mind of her own, and even though she taxed his patience, Murphy was powerless to combat her whimsical charm.
Rudy smothered a smile. The hard-assed bodyguard was a veritable mush when it came to his wife. He’d scoured every toy store in Atlantic County for a pink poodle purse when hers had been torched in a fire. He probably wasn’t angry with Lulu just now as much as concerned that, if he didn’t nip it in the bud, she’d work herself into a red-hazed fury and, as she called it, wig-out. She’d approached the red zone earlier tonight during dinner when she’d obsessed on that unflattering news piece. What had possessed Sofie to drink so much? How could Joe take advantage of her in that state, and why were they together anyway?
Everyone had reminded her that Hollywood Highlights was a gossip program. Drunken love-fest was probably an exaggeration. Unfortunately, there was no taming her imagination. She had it in her head that Sofia was in trouble, and that was that.
“I’m sure your sister would have called you if anything was wrong,” Afia gently said.
“You don’t know Sofie. She doesn’t confide in me if she thinks it will upset me.”
Afia looked from Jake to Rudy. “Sounds familiar.”
Rudy refrained from raising his hand and admitting, “Guilty as charged.” He simply slid Jake a glance that said, “Thanks a lot.” He wished he’d stop letting the man manipulate him into shielding Afia from the occasional painful truth. Like when he and Jean-Pierre separated after the indiscretion. Not wanting to upset Afia at a critical time in her pregnancy, Jake had convinced them to downplay their troubles.
It had taken Afia all of three weeks to deduce the real score. His ears still smarted from her lecture on friendship and honesty. Thing was, sheltering a sensitive soul like Afia came as second nature for a caretaker like Rudy. This afternoon he’d lied about Casper, saying he was an obnoxious stray cat that sometimes got underfoot. It was better than risking the truth and spooking her. Born on Friday the thirteenth, his sweet-natured friend had old issues with bad mojo. If she overreacted and went into early labor, he’d never forgive himself.
Just then the TV reception skewed. Warped images. Static.
“Nuts!” Lulu set aside the bowl of popcorn and sighed. “How am I supposed to get an update on Sofie?”
“We’re going to miss the end of the movie,” Afia pouted.
Jake eyed Murphy. “I thought you tweaked the position of the dish antenna for the strongest signal.”
“I did. I fine-tuned the hell out of the system.”
The lights flickered.
Rudy grit his teeth. There hadn’t been a paranormal incident since the porch swing debacle. He’d hoped Casper was shy, that the gang had scared him into hiding. He should’ve known the ghost’s silence was too good to last.
“Maybe there’s a storm coming.” Lulu hugged herself against an imagined chill.
She couldn’t possibly be cold. Rudy’s shirt was sticking to his skin. It occurred to him that it wasn’t just warm in this room, but abnormally hot. No wonder everyone was cranky. Ghostly fingers must’ve tapped the thermostat. “Dammit, Casper.”
The roof creaked. Metal whined. An eerie yowl infiltrated the walls.
Afia sat up straight, eyes wide. “That doesn’t sound like a cat to me.”
Jake and Murphy bolted to their feet. “Stay put,” they ordered their wives while exiting the room as a team.
Rudy followed. Typically these two carried guns. The last thing he wanted was a shootout at Hollyberry Inn. That kind of press would definitely put a damper on business. Then he remembered that they’d flown on a commercial flight which probably meant they’d left their weapons at home. And what was he thinking anyway? How could they shoot what they couldn’t see?
Unless the intruder wasn’t Casper, but a
living breathing burglar trying to break in. He didn’t know which was worse.
“You take the front,” Murphy said to Jake. “I’ve got the back.”
The lights flickered off, on, off, and stayed off. Moonbeams shone through the gauzy curtains. Shadows danced on the walls. “What about me?” Rudy whispered.
“Stay with the women,” Murphy said, before disappearing toward the back door.
Rudy bristled. “It’s my property. If someone’s trespassing, I’ll deal with it.”
“We’re trained to track and detain.” A silent you’re not hung in the air. Jake squeezed his shoulder. “Stay with Afia and Lulu. Protect your home. Protect the women.”
The former Jersey cop didn’t wait for an answer. He blew out the front door and left Rudy standing in the pitch-black foyer. His senses buzzed with heightened clarity. Every creak, ping and tick seemed amplified by the darkness and silence. He’d been living in the middle of nowhere for two months now. He’d never been bothered by the silence or seclusion. Then again, he’d never suspected an intruder. Well, aside from Casper. But he didn’t count. He was dead.
Protect the women. Yeah. Okay. He could do that. He’d earned a blue belt in Tae Kwon Do. And thanks to his dad, if push came to shove he knew how to fight dirty. Early on Barney Gallow had suspected his son, a Broadway show tune fanatic, might need to defend himself against bullies AKA homophobes.
He felt his way from the foyer through the living room, destination: the great room and the girls.
Except the girls weren’t in the great room.
He whispered their names. He called their names. He stood there for a moment, anxious and slightly disoriented.
He heard a metallic creak and distant pops.
The TV and the great room lights blared in tandem with two feminine shrieks.
Rudy flew toward the sound of hysteria. Oh, Jesus. Sweet Jesus. He whizzed around the corner of the dining room too fast and banged his hip on the solid mahogany china cabinet. Eyes crossed in pain, he rushed forward and collided with a misplaced side chair. He and the chair tumbled over the threshold into the darkened kitchen just as Murphy exploded through the back door. The protection specialist tripped over Rudy’s body and plowed into Jake who’d sailed in on Rudy’s heels. A collage of blasphemous curses polluted the air as Murphy pushed out of Jake’s arms and Rudy untangled his arms from the chair’s carved legs.
The kitchen light flicked on.
Rudy’s head snapped up.
“Holy smoke,” Lulu said on a breathless giggle. “The Three Stooges live.”
“What happened?” Afia asked.
Rudy blinked. The wide-eyed women stood side-by-side, safe and sound. Relief struck him speechless.
Not so Murphy. “What do you mean, what happened?” he railed. “You screamed.”
“Are you all right?” Jake scanned the women head to toe as he massaged his right shoulder. Murphy must’ve clocked him good, aggravating an old injury.
“We’re fine,” Afia said.
“Then why the hell did you scream?” Murphy reached down and offered Rudy a hand up.
Lulu frowned. “You don’t have to yell, Colin.”
“I’m not yelling!”
“You’re yelling,” Jake countered. “Why did you scream?” he repeated just as loudly.
“There was a big honking spider on the breaker panel door,” Lulu said.
Afia shuddered. “I hate spiders.”
Rudy shifted his weight and winced. His hip and ankle smarted like the dickens. “What were you doing in the utility room?”
“Tripping the breakers,” Lulu said. “Easier to catch someone creeping about if you can see him.”
Jake looked over his shoulder at Rudy. “Where were you?”
“Looking for them.” He eyed the side chair, ready to damn Casper for tripping him up and making him look like Curly or Moe, or whoever the third idiot was. He could never remember. Not that it mattered. A stooge was a stooge.
Afia winced. “Sorry about that. We put the chair in the doorway, thinking if someone followed us, they’d trip and the noise would alert us.”
Jake kissed her forehead and smiled. “Smart girl.”
“What part of ‘stay put’ didn’t you understand, princess?” Murphy asked Lulu. He scraped a hand over his buzz cut, blew out a frustrated breath. “Every time you pull a stunt like this you take five years off my life.”
Rudy was certain he’d sprouted twenty gray hairs in the last five minutes.
Lulu smiled apologetically and moved in to hug Murphy. “So, what did you find outside? Did you see anyone?”
“Not a soul. Whoever it was moved fast. All we found was a mangled rain gutter on the south side of the inn.” He wrapped his arms around her, a loving, protective embrace that summoned an envious lump in Rudy’s throat. He could use a hug himself just now. Specifically, from Jean-Pierre.
“Someone tampered with the satellite dish,” Jake said, steering Afia into a kitchen chair. “Guessing here, but since I didn’t see a ladder, I’d say someone climbed that big oak and scaled a branch to get to the dish. Probably slipped and grabbed on to the rain gutter, only the gutter gave and the prankster fell and landed hard on the ground.”
“Hence the howl,” Afia surmised. She shivered. “Sounded like something out of a horror movie.”
Rudy’s mind raced, rehashing information he’d read on bust-a-poltergeist.com Paranormal activity included things such as moaning, shrieking, electrical glitches, and moving objects. It would’ve been easier to suspect a burglar or vandalizing teen if he hadn’t suffered similar occurrences already. And if the satellite dish wasn’t near the Evergreen Suite.
“I hate scary movies.” Lulu snuggled closer against Murphy. “Vampires and werewolves. Flesh eating zombies intent on revenge.”
Jake laughed. “Jesus.”
Murphy rolled his eyes.
“What about disgruntled ghosts,” Rudy muttered.
Lulu groaned. “They’re the worst. Oh, my gosh,” she said, pushing out of Murphy’s arms to sit next to Afia. “Did you see Poltergeist?”
Wide-eyed, Afia shook her head no. “Dead people and demons creep me out. I’d rather face a spider than a ghost.”
Great. Rudy limped toward the fridge. “I need a beer. Anyone else?”
“Hit me,” Jake said.
Murphy nodded.
“Nothing for me, thank you,” Lulu said.
Afia passed as well. “If you hate scary movies,” she said to Lulu, “how did you make it through Poltergeist?”
“I closed my eyes a lot. But Sofie filled me in. Oh, wow,” she said, just as Rudy shut the fridge and turned, hands full. “This place is really old, right? What if it’s built on an ancient burial ground? What if the inn’s haunted?”
Rudy fumbled the longneck bottles.
Jake moved fast, catching the one that slipped his grip.
Murphy relieved him of another, saying to Lulu, “You might want to curb that imagination, hon.”
Jake sat next to Afia, twisted off the bottle cap. “Relax, baby. The inn’s not haunted. No such things as ghosts.”
Rudy swigged his beer.
“Whoever it was is long gone.” Murphy took a pull off the longneck, then eyed Rudy. “Had any trouble like this before?”
Like he was supposed to fess up now? “No.” He made the mistake of making eye contact with Afia.
Her sable eyes sparked with suspicion. “You would tell us, wouldn’t you?”
Oh, boy. If he glanced away, she’d know he was withholding. If he lied, she’d know that too. “Busted.” He drank more beer, tempered his expression. Maybe if he acted like it was no big deal. “The inn’s haunted.”
He expected a barrage of questions, a unified gasp, something. No one reacted. Not even a flinch.
Finally, Lulu snorted. “Yeah, right.”
Afia sighed. “I give up.”
Jake’s lip twitched. “A simple I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it wo
uld’ve sufficed, Gallow.”
Incredulous laughter bubbled in Rudy’s throat. They didn’t believe him. Rather than launching into the legend of Casper Montegue, he casually tipped his beer to his lips and expanded on the absurd. “No, seriously, I’ve got a ghost with a grudge.”
Afia rolled her big brown eyes. “A grudge against Cary Grant movies? Or TV in general?”
“Speaking of,” Lulu said to Murphy, “I don’t suppose you’d consider going back outside and realigning that dish.”
“No, I don’t suppose I would. Not tonight. I’m beat. I’m going to bed.”
She glanced at her Cinderella watch. “It’s only ten-thirty.”
Murphy nabbed her hand and gently tugged her to her feet. “We’ve been up since five this morning, princess.”
“Us too.” Jake set his beer bottle on the counter and helped Afia to her feet.
They exchanged goodnights while Rudy deposited the empty bottles in a recycle bin. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d told the truth—no lectures on honesty coming his way—and they’d mistaken the truth for sarcasm, therefore no one was spooked or accusing him of going off the deep end. They were all hitting the sack, meaning he was free to surf the Internet for instant ghostbusting tips. While he was at it he’d shoot off another email to Jean-Pierre. With any luck, come morning, he and his soulmate would be back on track. With any luck, come morning, the mangled gutter and mysterious howl would be forgotten and he’d be off the hook.
Just before crossing the threshold, the two couples turned as one. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
So much for being off the hook.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Phoenix, Arizona
When you said you knew a guy, I assumed you meant Special Agent Creed,” Sofia muttered under her breath as they exited the retro basement apartment of a computer whiz with an Austin Powers complex. Talk about weird. Her theory that she was an unwitting participant in a reality show version of a Hitchcock tale escalated with each ticking minute.
“Best to pick and choose what favors I ask of Creed.” Joe cupped her elbow and escorted her up the stairs.