Forbidden Highway (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 5)

by Catie Rhodes

  “Had to play the game. Get you feeling like I was doing you a favor.” Tubby mumbled the words to his jeans clad legs.

  “No need. I’ll help you kill Gage.” I walked back to my plastic chair. “And the way we’re going to draw him out is me searching for the treasure.”

  “That’s just what I was gonna say.” Tubby came back to life and held out his hand to Trench Coat, silently asking for his cigarettes. Trench Coat glanced at King, who nodded, and laid the cigarettes in Tubby’s outstretched hand. “Whatever Gage has planned, he needs the Mace Treasure to finance it. We’ll draw him out, and bam.” Tubby made a trigger with his finger.

  “Wade can help you with that.” King stood from behind his desk. “And we’ll take a cut of the treasure in exchange.” He gave me a hard slap on the back. “Now you go back to work.”

  Back behind the bar, I went about my business as though I hadn’t just plotted to kill a man. Something I was starting to understand—we do what we must to survive. And I would not stand around and let Michael Gage kill me or worse.

  Tubby stayed in King’s office quite a while longer and came out smiling. He sat back down at the bar. “Beer.”

  I handed him a cold one, and he threw some bills on the table. Wade came to stand beside Tubby. The two exchanged a long stare.

  “Are y’all gonna start dating?” I leaned my elbows on the bar and rested my chin on my hand. “I think you’d look cute together.”

  “Do your job, bigmouth.” Wade gave me a gentle shove. “Get me a beer.”

  I gave Wade his beer and he took off toward the dart board, where the group of Candy Pistols who trailed him like flies swarming shit squealed and hugged him.

  Tubby watched the show for a couple of seconds and turned back to me. His lips, bow shaped, yet masculine, curved into a smile I knew from the time he put crickets in my shoes during kindergarten nap time.

  “Oh, snap.” He let out an evil giggle. “You’re jealous of those pretty little girls, ain’t you?”

  “No. I ain’t.” I got out my polishing rag and went to town on the bar, rubbing hard on the permanent rings from people setting their drinks directly on the bar.

  “Bee-ess. You got the hots for the Biker Bad Boy Hulk over there, and you’re too—I don’t know—repressed to admit it.”

  I glanced over to see Wade lift Diamond up to get a dart out of the ceiling, his hand gripping her butt.

  Tubby laughed.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do tonight?” I grabbed for Tubby’s sweaty beer bottle, intending to throw it away. The black opal sent a sharp punch of energy into my skin. I took my hand away from Tubby’s bottle and put it to my chest.

  Peri Jean. The whispered words came as much from inside my head as from the smoky room. I looked for its source, scanning the crowd. Over here.

  The black opal snapped me with an even sharper crackle of magic. Some invisible force tugged at me, and I turned to the last seat of the bar, next to the door.

  Cricket McKay’s ghost sat there, tarot cards spread out in front of her. Ice spread through me. I didn’t fear ghosts as much as I used to, but something about the way Cricket sat with her head lowered and her pale arms laying out tarot cards spooked me. I left Tubby and approached her.

  “Cricket, I’m so sorry Michael Gage got you.” I spoke in a low, shaking voice. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  Cricket raised her head. The slash across her neck opened, revealing yellowed tendons and other stuff I didn’t want to see. I did my best not to recoil, but my heart kicked hard. She smiled, her crooked teeth the only thing about her that looked the way I remembered.

  Gonna read for you one more time. The sound of her voice, definitely in my head, pushed a lump into my throat. My fault this girl was dead. She’d reminded me so much of Rae. I glanced down at the cards, only to find them so transparent I couldn’t see the pictures. The tower. This one’s about exposing what’s hidden. You need to watch for— The scratchy voice in my head cut off.

  “Peri Jean?” A gentle hand tugged at my arm. “You okay?”

  My spirit sight fell away, and Nash sat in the chair where Cricket’s ghost had been. He had chill bumps all over his arms, and his exhale came in a fog of vapor. He squeezed my arm and smiled. “Everything all right? You look scared.”

  I SHOOK the fog out of my head. “Nash. I’m sorry. I was just woolgathering.” I glanced at the dusty clock over the bar. “I’ve still got about an hour to work.”

  “I thought I’d have a beer.” He smiled.

  For a second, Cricket’s face appeared over Nash's. I yelped and jumped backward.

  “What’s up? What’s wrong?” He turned to and fro, eyes wide.

  I got hold of myself and gave his wrist a tug. “A roach crawled right in front of you. Come on down here.”

  Nash got up willingly enough and let me lead him away from Cricket’s regular seat. Tubby Tubman rose when we got close. Just puketastic.

  “You the guy who bought the Panther, ain’t you?” Tubby held out one hand. Nash took it and squeezed. “I’m Thomas Tubman, but ever’body calls me Tubby.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Nash sat down next to Tubby.

  I considered making him move again, but Tubby shot me a crafty glance, and I knew better than to even try. The more I tried to avoid it, the more Tubby would embarrass me. I spoke to Nash. “Beer?”

  Nash nodded, and I got him a cold one out of the ice. The weight of someone’s stare pushed at the top of my head. I raised it in time to see Wade Hill turn back to Diamond and his groupies. They all laughed too loud.

  “I’ve seen you around town.” Tubby spoke to Nash without looking at him. “You’re friends with a guy who drives a red pickup truck. He’s new in town, too, right?”

  “Jay Harris, and yes. He’s been here longer than me, but not that long.” Nash sipped his beer. “Why do you ask?”

  “He looks real familiar to me.” Tubby rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. He did this when thinking hard, as though the friction would bring the right thought to the front of his mind. “But Jay Harris doesn’t ring any bells.”

  “Jay’s really good looking.” I leaned on the bar and grinned at Tubby. “Maybe he reminds you of one of those all-male calendars you’re always buying.”

  Tubby shook up his beer and tried to squirt me with it. I jumped away.

  King came out of his office to scream, “Last call.” Long Time Gone’s only patrons were a few Six Guns, some Candy Pistols, Tubby, and Nash. I offered them both another beer. Nash refused. Tubby accepted. I started closing out for the night.

  Wade ambled to the bar, his steps slow and deliberate. His dark eyes, fixed on Nash, glowed with malice. He stood next to Tubby, who gave him a smart-assed grin.

  “You done drinking?” I asked Wade.

  He didn’t acknowledge me. Instead he stared at Nash until the smaller man shifted in his seat.

  “You dating my friend?” The jukebox cut off right then, and Wade’s voice boomed over the bar.

  Nash raised his head, flicked his gaze over Wade, and nodded. The two men exchanged blank-eyed stares.

  “Where y’all going at this hour?” Tubby grinned and pushed his empty beer bottle at me.

  “There’s an all-night diner out on Highway 59—” Nash began.

  I sneered at Wade. How dare he spend all night flirting with those Candy Pistols and then come over here and act like he owned me? I’d show him.

  “We’re going to the house, and I’m fixing us an early breakfast.” I stared at Wade, waiting for him to tell me I couldn’t do that. He spun around and stomped off. Tubby laughed. I glared at him, and he made a zipping motion over his lips. I wanted to throw salt in his face. Instead I finished my duties in a huff, told King goodnight, and motioned Nash to follow me outside.

  “You can follow me.” I took out the keys to my Nova.

  “That big guy your roommate?” Nash jerked a thumb at the bar. I nodded. “Sure there’s nothing more
?” He stared hard at my face.

  “You saw what he spent the last hour doing, didn’t you? That what you do when you’re part of a couple?” I stomped off without waiting to hear his answer. Inside the Nova, I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to calm down.

  I couldn’t grudge fuck Nash because Wade made me mad. Or jealous. It would come back to bite me in the ass. Gaslight City was too small and Nash's business too visible for me to pull a stunt like that.

  But I could cook him breakfast in my home and try to get to know him better. It didn’t matter if I wanted something more than friendship with Wade. He’d shown me over and over he wasn’t interested in anything other than acting like an overprotective big brother. Hannah had one thing right. Nash was a good candidate for Mr. Right Now.

  I started the Nova and rolled slowly toward the parking lot’s exit. For several seconds, I thought Nash had chickened out. I didn’t blame him. The scene inside Long Time Gone would have scared men a lot tougher than Nash. I paused at the end of Long Time Gone’s driveway to give Nash a chance to catch up. Just as I was about to give up and go home alone, his headlights appeared behind me.

  I took the winding two-lane roads home a lot more slowly than usual and parked in front of the fence. Nash parked between the house and the carport and climbed out of his car immediately. He stared at the house, his mouth slack and eyes glazed. I scoured my memory for the last time I took a good look at the house. How bad did it look to a guy who had enough money to buy a movie theater? I glanced at the house and called it a loss. I couldn’t tell.

  Nash pulled his gaze off the house and settled it on my car. “I feel you here. Not in a mystical or magical way, but here.” He patted his chest. “You love this place.”

  I took in the place where I’d lived all my life. It was me, all I had in the world except for my friends. My heart filled with memories, and I almost heard Memaw’s loud laugh, saw her sitting on the porch smoking after working in her flower beds, the sunspots dark on her arms after spending time in the sun. The feeling of her and of life and loss throbbed in my chest and stung behind my eyes. I nodded at Nash, afraid to speak.

  Nash took a few steps and stopped in front of my car. He trailed his fingers over its flank. “This car. I’ve admired it more than once.”

  “It belonged to my daddy.” I glanced at the woods, the place where Paul’s ghost seemed to hang out most, but saw only the darkness and the flickering ghost lights from the Palmore estate.

  “I never realized…I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I’d known. I know who Paul Mace was, and I know what happened to him.” He glanced at the expression on my face and took a step back. “Supposedly.”

  “My uncle Jesse and I are very close. He did not kill my father. We’re working on getting him out of prison.” I unlocked the front door and motioned Nash inside.

  “And your mother?”

  His question hit me like a slap of cold water. I couldn’t say anything. Hectic spots of red formed on Nash's cheekbones. He gave a nervous laugh.

  There’s no way to tell him I watched her die since the death went unreported.

  “She moved back here a month or two ago, saying she wanted to get to know me better.” The familiar anger tightened my muscles. “Then one morning she was gone. Left all her stuff. Nobody’s heard from her since.”

  “That’s crazy. Are the police involved?”

  I nodded. “They’re doing what they can.” But they’ll never find her body. A picture of Barbie’s final seconds flashed in my head. “I’m pretty sure she’s dead.”

  “Oh, right. Because you’re a medium.” Nash nodded. I studied his face for horror and saw nothing of the sort.

  I gave a short nod. Barbie’s spirit never came calling, but I sometimes had these dreams of seeing her underground, her eyes frozen open, still terrified.

  “Enough about my mother.” I tried to smile. “I’ve got eggs, bacon, sausage. Maybe even some whump biscuits.” Wade believed in breakfast, said he needed it to think straight.

  “Whump biscuits?” Nash's forehead wrinkled.

  “The kind that come in the little can. You hit ‘em on the counter, and they go—”

  “Whump,” Nash finished for me. “Truth is, I’m not used to all this greasy food you guys eat down here. I’m not even hungry at this hour.”

  “Really?” Maybe he thought my thinness was a result of not knowing how to cook. “I do know how to cook. I promise. This is just nerves and worry.” I gestured at my stomach.

  “Some other time.” He sat on the worn out couch and patted the lumpy cushion next to him. He looked so out of place on the dilapidated old thing I regretted having our date here. Oh well. It was what it was.

  “What’s got you all tied up in knots?” He half turned so he could face me.

  “You know my grandmother died a couple of months ago?”

  Nash nodded.

  “She didn’t have life insurance. Her burial came out of what she had in savings, which wasn’t much because she’s been sending money to my uncle in prison all these years.” I dammed up the flood of words, waited for the water to recede.

  “Having someone in prison costs money.” Nash coughed. “I’ve heard.”

  “The taxes on this place are due in a couple of months. I no longer make enough money—not that I was ever Ms. Moneybags—to just whip out the payment.” I chewed on my lip, taking cross satisfaction in the way it hurt.

  “Doesn’t Wade pay you for his half of expenses?”

  Under ordinary circumstances Nash's question would have irritated me. I’d have heard pity, condescension, and maybe even glee in his words. Tonight, I was too tired to get angry.

  “The Six Guns treat him like an indentured servant. He gets money here and there, and he gives most of it to me, but…” I waved my hands in the air.

  Nash nodded. “This where finding the Mace Treasure comes in?”

  My mouth fell open. How’d he know? Then I remembered Nash and Tubby talking while I closed up the bar. Tubby would tell Nash something like that just to do it.

  “Nothing wrong with trying.” Nash put his hand over mine.

  My hand twitched. I had to force myself not to pull away because I knew he used his touch to see more. He might want to use me to find the Mace Treasure. I shook my head. I had to quit painting anybody who acknowledged the Mace Treasure as a villain. Like it or not, the Mace Treasure interested people, and it was part of who I was. I had to live with it. Why worry about Nash? Even if he wanted to find the Mace Treasure himself, he had little chance without a way to remove the curse Priscilla Herrera placed on it. Michael Gage was a far worse threat.

  “You’re gorgeous.” Nash leaned his head on the couch and used one finger to trace my jawbone. “Being in the same room with you takes my breath away.”

  Nash put one hand on my waist and leaned close. I raised my head, closed my eyes, parted my lips. His lips brushed mine, barely there. He moved his hand up my side, running his fingers gently over my breast and collarbone, to caress my neck. I tried to relax, to find the heat between Nash and me. He was certainly good looking enough. It had to be there somewhere. Nash trailed kisses down my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Me-he-he-he. My eyes opened, and I jerked away, heart racing. Where was he? I pushed away from Nash and looked for Michael Gage, fully expecting him to pop up like a bad joke.

  “Sorry.” Nash put both hands up in a warding off gesture. “Tell me what I did wrong.”

  I couldn’t. It was a million things. “I’m just on edge with Michael Gage on the loose.”

  “I’d be terrified of someone like that.” He glanced at the door. “But I don’t think he’ll mess with you unless you’re alone. Too many variables.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes, his fingertips tracing my face.

  “I want to kiss you again,” he whispered.

  The first kiss hadn’t done much for me, but I was willing to try again. I put my fingers on the back of his neck an
d pulled him toward me. Our lips met again. This time, Nash meant business.

  His hand found my breast and gently squeezed, thumb moving back and forth over my nipple. My mind drifted back to Long Time Gone, to Wade leaning over the counter and teasing me. The lackluster kiss went white hot. I slid my hands under Nash's shirt and ran them up his back, imagining my fingers running over Wade’s tattoos and scars. Nash touched his tongue to mine and whispered my name. I moaned, lost in another man’s touch.

  A slam interrupted our make out session. Before I had to time to question what happened, something lifted Nash off me. My eyes flew open in time to see Wade Hill with one of Nash's arms in one hand and a leg in the other. Nash flopped like a dying fish, but Wade had the advantage. He stomped back through the open door and dropped Nash off the porch. The thud of his body hitting the dirt spurred me into action. I slithered into my t-shirt, which had somehow ended up on the floor, and ran outside.

  Wade was on the ground with Nash, the smaller man’s shirt gripped in one hand, huge fist cocked back.

  “Wade Hill,” I screamed. My words echoed in the darkness.

  Wade stopped and let go of Nash, who dropped back to the ground. I ran around Wade and stood between them.

  “Go in the house.” I pointed at the front door.

  Wade shook his head. “I thought you were struggling.”

  “You know I wasn’t.” I made my voice flat.

  “Then why didn’t you go in your bedroom?” He glanced at Nash.

  “Go in the house.” I pointed at the door again.

  Wade gave Nash another heated glare, hopped up on the porch, and stomped into the house. He slammed the door, and the house rattled.

  “I’m sorry.” I knelt next to Nash. “I figured he wouldn’t be home for hours.”

  “I thought you said the two of you weren’t a couple.” Nash picked at his shirt, which had torn when Wade grabbed him.

  “We aren’t that I know of.”

  “We’ll make a point not to have any more dates here.” He tried to laugh, but it sounded sick and hollow. “In fact, why don’t you come back to my place. Spend the night. Get away from this.” He gestured at the house.