Jermy, Marie - Together Forever [The Andersons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Marie Jermy

  Just as she screamed again, Ross put his brain into gear. Yanking Jessica to his side and slightly behind him, he aimed his Magnum at Meathead’s chest and fired. The bullet made little impact. If anything, it passed straight through him and imbedded in the wall behind. No way! His aim was just off, that’s all. Nor was Meathead a ghost. He was alive, having obviously survived being shot up his ass.

  Rafferty had lied, which made Ross think about what else Rafferty had lied about. The camera footage at the bar? Had Rafferty actually been there at the time and seen Jessica take Harknett’s BlackBerry? Was Rafferty the one who wanted Jessica dead? Had he made the threats to her life? His name was listed, so it would be reasonable to assume he would do anything to get the BlackBerry back. But why? What was so important about those other names, the names of dead police officers, Sam Carrick included?

  Ross’s head buzzed with too many questions and not enough time for the answers.

  “Ross…”

  Jessica’s terrified tone jerked Ross into action. He had a job to do. A woman to protect. His woman. Deducing Meathead wore a bulletproof vest, Ross took aim and repeatedly shot him in the head. Incredibly, Meathead kept on coming. This was so not happening. The bullets had no effect whatsoever. When the clip was empty, Ross dropped the Magnum, reached for the Beretta, and squeezed the trigger.

  And promptly dropped it.

  Instead of a bullet, the barrel ejected an intense, narrow beam of white light, and as Ross gaped, Meathead, making pained, weird noises, literally disintegrated before his eyes.

  “Wow!” a small voice squeaked.

  “Wow doesn’t even begin to describe it.” Beside him, Jessica shook and shivered. As Ross went to embrace her, another more disturbing sight appeared behind her.

  Blade Harknett.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Ross dropped to his knees, snatched up the Beretta, and fired. He wasn’t quick enough. Harknett stepped to one side and disappeared through a wall, the laser beam scorching a hole where he’d once stood. Or rather, hovered.

  “Okay,” Ross drawled, stunned right down to his toes, “now I’m a believer.”

  “Great! Now that you believe in ghosts, maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you I’m not going to leave you. Ever. I want to be your wife. I want your babies. I want the kind of marriage my parents have. That your parents have…Ross, are you listening?”

  Incredulous, and like a goldfish, Ross gaped at Jessica. “You want to discuss our relationship now?”

  “Why not? It’s as good a time as any.”

  “You sure pick your moments.”

  “I might not get another chance.”

  “Bullshit! There’ll be plenty of chances.” He strode into the dining room, dragging her with him. “First, you need to put your clothes on. Second, we need to get that BlackBerry to Mike. Apart from you, he’s the only person I trust at the moment.” He stopped and faced her. “You need to take it to Mike. I want you away from here. I want you safe. I’ll send Harknett to hell. Go with him if that’s what he wants—”

  “No!” Jessica screeched, interrupting Ross. “I am not leaving you. We’re in this together. Together forever.”

  For the second time in as many minutes, Ross did his goldfish impression. Together forever. He couldn’t believe she’d said that. “Together forever? How…What did you…What in hell!” he exclaimed when a small, round, and hard object dropped on his head.

  It was a glass marble. Another followed. Then another. Then a whole hailstorm.

  Being pelted with a child’s toy by an unseen enemy was not his idea of fun. Certainly not when Jessica was being hurt. Turning her around so her back was pressed against his chest, Ross shielded her as they both ducked under the dining table. Her jeans and top were within easy reach. As she quickly dressed, he felt around the tabletop with his right hand for the BlackBerry.

  His fingers enclosed over it just as something sharp sliced across his knuckles. He disguised his wince with a grin and cracked, “Gives a whole new meaning to losing one’s marbles, doesn’t it? Not that Harknett had many to begin with.”

  Jessica’s laughter died in her throat when the blade of a dinner knife punctured through the wood above her, and Ross’s grinning face contorted with agony. He let out a long moan just as the edge of the cloth hanging in front of her stained red.

  Ross’s arm was still looped up and over. Horrified, she inched out from under the table, not giving a damn about the marbles still drumming down. She turned as white as the tablecloth. Well, the parts that weren’t turning crimson from the blood pumping from the top of Ross’s hand where it had been impaled, anyway.

  She ducked back under. Beads of sweat had popped up on Ross’s forehead. She cradled his face in her hands and breathed a kiss on his lips. “Close your eyes. Imagine me naked.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.” His eyelids drifted closed. “Tell me what you’d like me to do to you. Anything goes.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  “Well, I hear that touching a man’s prostate gland can result in one explosive orgasm. So I’d like you to stick your fingers up my ass.”

  She grimaced as she crawled out from under the table and inspected the knife plunged into Ross’s hand. Oh, boy. She had said anything goes, but that? Gross!

  “Oh, yeah. Suck my cock until I shoot in your mouth. I love that deep-throat action of yours.”

  Mmm, now that was more appetizing. To her relief, it stopped raining marbles. “Keep talking, Ross.” She took hold of the heavy and ornate silver handle…

  “Your tongue is lapping my cock. I’m growing hard. And you’re going for seconds…”

  She wrenched the knife out. There was a howl, a vicious curse, and his freed hand disappeared quicker than she could blink. She pocketed the bloodied and damaged phone and rejoined Ross, who shot her a murderous look as he wrapped his tie around the wound, stemming the flow of blood. “There’s no way I’m sticking my fingers up your ass.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” His smile was tight and edged with pain. “I was yanking your chain. Again.”

  “Moron!” She laughed before the seriousness of their situation kicked in. “How are we going to fight Harknett? We can’t see him. And when he does show himself…” She tapped the butt of the Beretta tucked in his waistband. “He’s not exactly going to stay still long enough for me to laser beam his ass back into hell.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You?”

  “Me. You can’t do it. You right hand is your shooting hand.”

  “Hey! I’m not entirely useless. I’ll have you know I’m ambidextrous. I can shoot from either hand.”

  Her brow wrinkled as an idea began to take shape. “But can you shoot straight?”

  An easy grin creased his features. A truly inappropriate time to think about sex, but at least it dulled the pain. “You know I can.” Those amber flecks in her eyes took on a devious twinkle, and a sobering thought wiped his grin away. “You’ve got a plan.”

  “I do.” She smiled at the image those words conjured up. “Together forever, Ross. You and me. Will you marry me?”

  Trust Jessica to make him feel less of a hypocritical prick by slyly asking how he broke his nose. However, his answer would have to wait. He reached up and ran his thumb across her bottom lip before taking her left hand in his and holding it against his chest, his beating heart going haywire beneath her fingers. “You’ve definitely got a plan.”

  * * * *

  Jessica’s plan was relatively simple. And Ross hated it. There was no way he’d allow her to be bait. Or as she’d put it, “the wormie on the hookie.” Harknett being the fish. Him, the reel and rod. Yet again though, she displayed her stubborn side, and no amount of reasoning shifted her. Still, when it came to the “hookie”—the BlackBerry—he showed her he could be just as stubborn. She finally agreed, or so he thought, to give it to his partner, Mike Travis, if he didn’t make it.

  “Do yo
u think Rafferty is here?” Jessica asked when she detected the familiar chill in the air.

  They now stood at the foot of the staircase, faces set with grim determination while she used strips torn from a napkin to rebandage his injured right hand. Ross wiggled his fingers, wincing at the stab of pain the movement produced. “I hope so, because once I’ve finished with Harknett, I’m gonna laser beam his ass.”

  “But why?” She took the Beretta from Ross’s left hand. “He gave you this because he knew your Magnum would be useless against Harknett. He’s on our side, Ross. And I think we should give him the BlackBerry, not Mike.” He curled his lip, a sure sign a sarcastic retort was imminent. “Okay, we’ll laser beam his ass.” She bit her bottom lip. “Ross? About Sam. Do you think he’s alive?”

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “Then don’t think. Like you said, Carrick’s a lifetime ago. And whether he’s alive or dead, I’m not about to hurt my family, or yours, by digging up the past.” He smiled as he gently brushed his fingers along her cheek. “I broke my nose when I fell out of the tree overlooking Emily Coy’s bedroom.”

  Jessica blinked. And she thought she was the expert at changing the subject. She knew why though. She didn’t want to dig up the past any more than Ross did. “You say I pick my moments. Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled a wide, loopy grin. “Who’d have thought it? Detective Ross Anderson Junior, otherwise known as the Ace by cops and cons alike, is a former Peeping Tom.”

  Ross feigned a hurt expression before taking Jessica in his arms and kissing her passionately. He drew back after several long moments. “There’s a reason why you had trouble removing that engagement ring from your finger. Once it’s on, it’s never meant to come off.” He sighed and let her go. “It’s a pity it’s upstairs in my backpack, otherwise I’d put it on you now.”

  Wham! Something solid slammed into Ross’s back, knocking him into Jessica and causing the Beretta to fly from her hand. It came to rest under a glass-topped hall table. Just as he turned to glare at the culprit—his backpack, no less—an icy fist punched him in the jaw.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted Harknett when he hovered into view. “Come on. Put some effort into it.”

  If ever there was a time Ross wished he’d kept his mouth shut, it was then. Because no sooner had the challenge left his mouth than Harknett grabbed Jessica by the shoulders and threw her across the foyer as if she weighed no more than air. She landed against the front door with a bone-jarring thud.

  Overtaken by rage, Ross lunged at Harknett, but, of course, there was nothing solid for his fists to strike. How the hell do you fight a ghost? He would have liked the time to come up with an answer, but Harknett had other ideas.

  “Ready to die, moron?”

  Ross didn’t care for Harknett’s choice of insult. He’d only allowed Jessica to call him that. He cared even less when Harknett sank one hand straight into his guts and began twisting his insides. Christ! The pain was excruciating. Every bone, every muscle, every vein, every nerve, every cell felt as though they were on the verge of combusting.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jessica rising to her feet and stagger drunkenly over to where the Beretta lay. He knew then what a crap choice she had to make. Shoot and kill them both. Or not shoot and he’s dead anyway. Oh, well, he had said he would protect her life with his own if needed. “Yeah? Get ready to join me, prick! Do it, Jessica!” he commanded. “Pull the trigger!”

  Fangs of blackness clawed his throat. This is it, Ross thought as his lungs fought for air that wasn’t there and his heart rate slowed. Strangely, he felt no fear, just sadness that he hadn’t gotten the chance to say good-bye to his family.

  A quiet calm settled over Ross as he stared through Harknett’s evil face at Jessica. I love you. Together forever. He winked and smiled when she dumbly nodded, closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger.

  Then, in a blast of hot, white light, some unyielding, icy force barreled into Ross’s side and sent him flying. His head struck the staircase, and a thousand stars exploded.

  Chapter 16

  Jessica didn’t want to watch Ross die, but something wasn’t right. It was quiet, eerily so. She opened her eyes. What the…! Harknett had vanished, presumably obliterated into hell. Ross lay on his back at the foot of the staircase. And sprawled beside him was Scott Rafferty.

  The Beretta still in her hand, she rushed over just as Rafferty sat up, clutching at his right shoulder. She ignored him and kneeled beside Ross. She laid her free hand on his chest and was relieved to find his heart beating steadily and strongly beneath her fingers. The tears fell as she bent to rain kisses over his face.

  “What about me? Do I get a kiss?”

  Lifting her head, and with a moist glare, Jessica aimed the Beretta at Rafferty. “How about I laser beam your ass into hell?” Then, and as swiftly as it had ignited, her temper cooled. Turning the gun around, she passed it to him butt first, a sincere smile brightening her features. “I’m sorry, Scott.”

  “I don’t believe it. You called me Scott without being prompted.”

  “It’s the least I could do. You saved Ross’s life.” She took serious note of his grimace. “So ghosts do feel pain.”

  For a moment, he gave her a blank look before he threw his head back and laughed. “I’m no ghost!”

  “But your whole aura is chilly. And your fingers are icy.”

  “I suffer with Raynaud’s, a circulation problem. You know, cold hands and feet? I refuse to take medication. Which can be beneficial. Particularly when you need to convince a certain someone”—He gestured to Ross, who had begun to stir—“that ghosts really do exist.”

  “Oh, he believes all right.” Jessica gave Rafferty another sincere smile. “You’ve got a lot more explaining to do.”

  “I know. And I’ll tell you everything once he’s fully conscious.”

  * * * *

  No bright light. No tunnel. No long-dead relatives to greet him. No angels. No harps. No white, puffy clouds. And where were his feathery wings and gold halo? To say Ross was pissed was an understatement. Heaven was a scam. Though saying that, it wasn’t a bad place, not when warm lips were touching his.

  “Ross?”

  Mmm, now that sounded like Jessica. Funny, those lips felt like Jessica’s, too. Something else occurred to him. His right hand throbbed. If he were dead, should he be feeling pain? He blinked his eyes open. Maybe he was in heaven. It wasn’t Jessica’s face he saw, but the late Mrs. Williamson. Lavender surrounded him.

  “Do you like my rug?”

  Must be heaven. Still, a strange question to ask on his admission. “Yes. It’s very striking.”

  “Then it’s yours.”

  Even stranger. “Er, thanks?”

  “Ross, who are you talking to?”

  Mrs. Williamson and her perfume melted away and deep-blue eyes with glowing amber flecks stared down at him. Jessica. “Tell you later. Are you okay? When Harknett threw you—”

  She silenced him with another kiss. “Just more bruises to add to my growing collection. Nothing major. I love you. Together.”

  “And I love you. Forever.” With a smile, Ross sat upright and came face-to-face with Rafferty. For the first time since meeting the man, he knew they were on the same side. Knew he could trust him. He located Harknett’s BlackBerry tucked in Jessica’s front jeans pocket and handed it to him.

  He slowly got to his feet and lifted his shirt. To his astonishment, his stomach was unmarked. Considering a ghost had just tried to twist his guts inside out, he was quick to class it as a miracle. He then helped Jessica to her feet and tenderly ran his hands down her body.

  “Ross, what are you doing? I told you I’m okay.”

  “I know,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he lightly kissed her on the forehead. “I just wanted to touch you. Make sure you’re real. Flesh and blood real.” He
reopened his eyes and noticed Rafferty’s grimace and the way he clutched at his right shoulder under his suit jacket as he stood up. “Dislocated?”

  “No. Just reopened an old wound. It’s nothing.”

  “What sort of wound?” Curious, Ross moved Rafferty’s hand away. Blood in the form of thin lines seeped through his shirt. He unbuttoned it for a closer inspection. Behind him, Jessica gasped.

  “Are they claw marks?” she asked.

  “Nails. Ex-girlfriend liked it wild. If you know what I mean.”

  Rafferty’s explanation didn’t fool Ross. Having just fought with one ghost and been given a rug as a present from another, he was willing to believe anything.

  Rafferty buttoned his shirt. “I have some explaining to do. Let’s go to the senator’s study. It’ll be more comfortable.”

  Once they entered, Rafferty sat behind the leather-topped desk as if he owned it while Jessica perched on one corner. Ross took a position at her side. “Who do you work for? Really. And what’s the story with Harknett?”

  “First things first. Give me your right hand.” Rafferty smiled when Ross hesitated for a second before holding his hand out. Removing the bloodied napkin bandage, he examined the wound. “Nasty,” he remarked. He took what looked like a penlight from an inside jacket pocket. Then before Ross’s and Jessica’s astonished eyes, he drew the beam over the gaping flesh, closing the wound. He repeated the procedure on Ross’s palm. He grunted approval at his handiwork, then after giving them a few minutes to get over their shock, stated, “I am alive. I am a detective in the NYPD. I’m not assigned to any one station though, but work across the entire city. And I’m also the temporary new director of the Federation. North America Division.”

  Now why did that sound familiar? Ross frowned as he switched his attention between his healed hand and Rafferty. Then it came to him. The Federation was the file on Harknett’s phone. “The Federation? The Federation of what?”

  “Just the Federation. It’s a global organization that tracks, polices and, if need be, eliminates forces, or ghosts if you like, should they even consider using their powers for immoral gain. It usually happens when the person dies, leaving unfinished business. Like Harknett. He’d developed a keen interest in narcotics. However, before he could close a major cocaine deal, you put a bullet in his head. Not that I’m blaming you,” Rafferty hastily added when Ross expressed indignation. “You had no idea what was going to happen. I was investigating him and had enough evidence to nail him the day before. I should have made an arrest then.”