Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2)

by Gonzalez, Ani

  They made it to the living room, where Elizabeth bent over a small wall panel. He looked at the moldings. Anything was better than the sight of Elizabeth bending forward to get a better look at the panel.

  Finally, she straightened, putting his torture to an end. "This is great wiring," she said, sounding disappointed.

  He suppressed a chuckle. Had she been trying to blow the house up? That wouldn't surprise him. Elizabeth was known for her unorthodox strategies.

  He followed her as she walked over to the back of the living room, opened the French doors, and walked out to the terrace.

  "The view is amazing," she said, clearly not happy about it.

  And she was right. The terrace looked at towering mountains, a bright blue sky, and golden-leafed trees. It was breathtaking.

  Elizabeth sighed. It was a very sad sigh.

  "C'mon, admit that you're impressed," Gabe said, smiling.

  The terrace itself was pretty impressive. A long, marbled expanse edged by stone balustrades. Twin staircases, one at each end of the terrace, led to a turquoise pool.

  She frowned at the incomparable beauty laid out before her. "It's a beautiful view, Gabe. But there's also that." She pointed at a gilded marble nymph holding an alabaster jar. Then she pointed at the nymph's sisters, all holding various agricultural implements.

  His smile turned into a grin. "Those can all be taken out."

  "Wanna bet? No one's been able to do that."

  "What?" He examined the stone nymph. No, wait, it wasn't stone. It was a cheap plaster statute with no artistic value whatsoever. One good thwack with a sledgehammer should break it into pieces. "No one's wanted to get rid of them?"

  "They all buy the house with plans to cart them to the Dumpster," she replied. "But they all change their minds. I guess they grow fond of the statutes."

  "Well, I'm not fond of them," he said firmly. "They're as good as gone."

  Elizabeth slumped over the balustrade, a glum look on her face. "I don't know how I'm going to explain this to your mom."

  "Plenty of room for grandchildren," Gabe said. He tried to picture his mother walking through the naked women, carrying a pan of Argentinean parrillada. Maybe he should keep the statues after all.

  "Absolutely, your kids can play dress-up with marble Barbies." She shook her head. "I don't think your mom will be amused. I'm not the one picking the house, though. And it does have everything you asked for—lots of space and no ghosts."

  She was right about that. Excited about the house's incense-drenched, bergamot-sprinkled, beeswax-bedecked history, PRoVE had crawled all over the Howrey estate. They'd found nothing and had finally declared the house psychically null. But the team hadn't left empty-handed. Micah and Loreen ended up with twin girls.

  "Hey, you were the one who showed me the house," he teased. "And don't forget the satyrs."

  "Well, those weren't on the list."

  "They're a bonus."

  She laughed. "You're crazy." She gestured toward the offending statuary. "You're buying this because you resent the fact that your family is making you buy a house, and this is your passive-aggressive way to get back at them. But you've gone too far this time." She jabbed a finger at him. "Your mother's going to kill you."

  Gone too far? Elizabeth's was over-dramatizing again. But her diagnosis was spot on. He did resent his family, and the Bacchanalian Bachelor Pad from Hell was extremely passive aggressive. But she was wrong about one thing.

  "Actually," he said with a smug smile, "she's going to kill you."

  Her laughter died and the color drained away from her face. "There has to be another house, Gabe," she pleaded. "You can't buy this."

  "It's not that bad, and we haven't seen the whole thing." He turned toward the view. "The grounds look pretty amazing."

  Elizabeth leaned on the balustrade. She looked deflated. Apparently, defeat wasn't something she was used to. Well, too bad, Napoleon, looks like you've met your multi-columned, satyr-strewn Waterloo.

  He matched her pose and glanced down at the grounds. Unfortunately, he could see quite a bit of cleavage from this position. He shifted his stance to ease his discomfort. That quick peek had been a very bad idea.

  He focused on the other really nice view, the one of the mountains; the geologic mountains, that was. It really was spectacular. Liam should be able to do something with this.

  He looked at Elizabeth. She was looking over the terrace balustrade, her brow furrowed in thought. She was probably trying to come up with a way out of her predicament.

  Good luck with that.

  The wind played with her hair. He tried not to imagine what those fine strands would feel like against his skin. He took a deep breath. The sooner he bought the house, the sooner he'd be able to get rid of Elizabeth.

  "I'll take it. Draw up an offer five percent under the asking price, all cash, no contingencies. I want to close in ten days, and I'll do it from New York."

  That should do it. He'd be back in Manhattan soon.

  Elizabeth straightened. There was a defiant glint in her steely gaze. "Maybe," she drawled, her voice as sweet as molasses, "you should see the grotto before making an offer."

  A small but undeniably cold and clammy shiver of unease crawled up his spine. Grotto? What grotto?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SHE LED Gabe down the steps to the backyard.

  This was it. This was the deal-killer. No matter how much Gabe said he liked the house, he would never be able to sell his mom on the grotto. The grotto was bad. Sacramental space dedicated to Aradia, Tuscan fertility goddess bad. Schizophrenic, eighteenth-century British nobleman bad.

  A succession of owners had tried to camouflage the grotto's essential nature with varying degrees of success. The sigils and carvings around the grotto had been polished off. The offering vessels had been sold on eBay. False boulders had been piled to create a man-made cavern off the side of the terrace.

  But other, more entertaining, aspects of the Golden Goddess Cult had been maintained. Elizabeth looked closely at the anatomically correct satyr statue that flanked the gate. Mostly pink marble, except for a very conspicuous part of the satyrs' anatomy, which was a darker, purplish stone. She surreptitiously looked back to catch Gabe's reaction to the statues.

  He looked amused.

  She sighed. That wasn't the reaction she'd been hoping for. Gabe looked up and laughed at her frown.

  "Those can be taken out too, you know," he said between chuckles. "Maybe I'll give them to Liam. I'm sure he can find a creative use for them."

  She pushed the gate and entered the cavern. The listing had said "inspired by the Ilse of Capri's Blue Grotto" and she could see why. A blue glow enveloped the cavern. It came from stained glass windows built into the stone walls and fluorescent lights embedded in the pool. Someone had decided that the blue light didn't provide enough ambiance, so the walls were also painted light blue with sparkly mosaics for decoration. It reminded her a bit of the dailies for Cyborg Shark and the Sentinel of Doom. The special effects team had spent a lot of time getting the "alien azure" effect right.

  The grotto got it perfectly right.

  "Now this is interesting." Gabe chuckled.

  Oh c'mon. He couldn't be amused. He had to hate this.

  "The brochure says it's one-of-a-kind," she said, although one-of-a-kind didn't quite describe it.

  "I believe it," he said. He was smiling broadly. "What's this?"

  He was inspecting a small terra cotta statue that sat on a niche on the wall. The statue appeared old and eroded. It didn't look like a piece of decor, it seemed to be an archeological find.

  "That's the Golden Goddess of Ravenna," she replied. "Lord Howrey brought it from Italy. I don't know why it's still here. It should be in the Smithsonian."

  "It's real?"

  "Yep. It's an authentic Etruscan relic. Look at the floor." She pointed out the carvings on the floor stones. "That's a Latin invocation surrounded by a bunch of magic symbols."


  "The carvings don't bother me," Gabe said, eyes still on the terra cotta statue. "But the goddess looks valuable, in an archeological, not monetary sense. Does it come with the house?"

  "I doubt it. The owners must have forgotten to ship it to D.C. I'll send the listing agent an e-mail about it."

  "How do you forget to donate a valuable relic?" He sounded vaguely horrified. He was probably picturing angry lawyers and government audits.

  "I don't know. But it's happened every time the house has been sold. The statue is bolted to the stone, so if it's still here when the title transfers, it'll belong to the buyers."

  Gabe frowned at the statue. "That has to be illegal."

  Elizabeth perked up immediately. "Illegal" sounded promising. In fact, it sounded like a deal breaker.

  "I'll need a full disclosure and an indemnification from the seller," he said firmly. "And I'll make sure it gets to Smithsonian."

  So much for the deal breaker.

  He looked around, searching for more potential liabilities. "The windows are interesting."

  "Those aren't windows." she clarified. "Those are TV screens."

  "Really?" He peered at the glossy surfaces. "How do you know?"

  She ignored the question. She wasn't going to admit that this kind of set-up wasn't one-of-a-kind in L.A. "It's very clever," she said instead, bending over one of the rocks. "Look."

  She fiddled with the controls embedded in the stony surface. The blue lights dimmed, the grotto darkened, and a "loading" sign showed on the screens.

  "I see." Gabe touched her arm lightly. "But that's enough. Let's stop touching things."

  "Don't worry," she said, trying to figure out the control panel. "The place is perfectly safe."

  He looked skeptical. "I think this is going to have to be completely torn out. It's a bit too..." His voice trailed off.

  "Specific." She frowned at the panel. Was this thing in delay mode? Why wasn't it playing?

  "What?"

  "It's short for 'owner specific'." The equipment didn't seem to be working. It must be broken.

  "What does that mean?" Gabe asked.

  "It's real estate agent speak for 'what the hell were they thinking?'" She straightened and smoothed her skirt. "The grotto is hard to dig out, Gabe. You may have to tear out the terrace."

  "Maybe it could be turned into a water feature? Let's take a look." He glanced at a dark wall. "Is this a light switch?"

  He flipped a lever, but nothing happened. The grotto remained in shadows, but a dull metallic moan traveled through the walls.

  Elizabeth glanced cautiously at the rocks. She really hoped this place was safe.

  A drop fell on her head, then another. She looked up, trying to identify the source. The drops fell faster and faster. There it was, a network of metal pipes attached to the rock ceiling, with sprinklers.

  Oh, this was great. Just great.

  The water was very cold and her nipples tightened. Was her dress see-through now?

  Probably. She noticed Gabe staring right at her chest.

  Make that certainly.

  He turned away quickly and reached for the switch.

  Oh well, it wasn't as if he'd never seen nipples before. She crossed her arms over her breasts, but she still felt a small twinge of satisfaction. She could make Gabe uncomfortable.

  Thankfully, discomfort didn't keep him from turning the sprinklers off. Elizabeth sighed in relief. She was still freezing, but at least she wasn't getting any wetter.

  Definitely her worst house showing ever. Even worse than when that flock of crows landed on the roof of the Italianate duplex she was showing and scared her client away. Or was it a murder of crows? Whatever. They'd pooped all over her car, too.

  Even worse than that. Well, this was it, the final straw.

  She was giving up.

  Her brilliant plan had failed. Gabe hadn't run away from the gaudy Middleburg house. He'd loved it. Well, he could keep the ridiculous eyesore for all she cared. She was wet, she was tired, and she was ready to quit and go home.

  She shivered in the cold air. Gabe took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. The jacket was wet, but not as wet as her clothes, and she shrugged into it gratefully. It was a little disturbing. She was getting used to wearing Gabe's jacket.

  That wasn't good. A bit of mutually satisfying aerobic activity with Gabe Franco would be great. Getting used to having a handy jacket to warm up with wouldn't be so fine. After all, the jacket, and its owner, wouldn't always be there.

  But she couldn't help pulling the jacket tightly around her shoulders, and her shivers stilled under its warmth. Ah, consistency, thy name is Elizabeth. Or, as Holly would say, Trust issues, thy name is Elizabeth.

  "We need to get you out of here," Gabe said. "It's too cold."

  She didn't disagree. Visiting the grotto hadn't been a good idea and she couldn't wait to leave.

  She walked to the gate and pulled the handle.

  Nothing happened.

  She tried it again. Nothing.

  She felt Gabe at her back. "It's locked." Her voice sounded whiny, even to her ears, but she couldn't help it. She was freezing and wanted to go home. "I can't believe it," she continued. "The listing agent said she'd disabled the security system this morning. Maybe the water messed up the lock?"

  "Let me try." He tried to open the gate. Same result. He looked up at the lock. "Do you have the code?"

  "No, the owner didn't want to give it out. That's why the listing agent had to come and disable it."

  Gabe dragged his fingers slowly around the perimeter of the gate. He seemed to be looking for weaknesses. He had strong hands with lovely, long fingers.

  She shook her head to clear it. This was not time to obsess over a man's hands. She looked around the grotto and her gaze landed on the terra cotta statue. Was the lumpy, curvy goddess smiling at her?

  Gabe let his hand fall and cursed under his breath. He was cursing in his native Spanish. Gabe cursing in Spanish was never a good sign. He focused on the lock. The thing jiggled as he tried to open the case.

  More cursing.

  "It's broken," he concluded grimly.

  He finally opened the lock and paused, examining the keypad. He punched a couple of numbers, but nothing happened. He lifted the cover easily, too easily, and started fiddling with the mechanism.

  She pulled Gabe's jacket tightly across her shoulders and took a deep breath. The stiff, thick fabric of the jacket brushed her breasts lightly, making impure thoughts race through her head. She tried not to think about being locked in a nefarious water feature with Gabe Franco.

  It was really hard not to think about it. Especially with the forbidden object standing barely two inches away.

  Gabe fiddled with the lock some more. He seemed to be making progress. She tried not to watch as Gabe's fingers swept over the lock. His careful handling of the mechanism was too much like a caress. Only a longish drive and she'd be home, safe and dry.

  It would be fine.

  The blue light turned off, and Elizabeth jerked with surprise. Soft music filled the grotto. The loading sign on the television screen flickered out. Oh heck, the thing must have been on delayed play. She started to turn toward the control panel, but stopped as images flickered on the screen.

  A well-endowed woman in a skimpy black negligee was chained to a stone wall. The camera lingered over her body as she struggled theatrically. There was much heavy breathing and chest heaving.

  This was not fine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  GABE BARELY noticed the movie. He was keenly aware that Elizabeth was soaking wet and the grotto was very chilly. A porno movie wouldn't put her in the hospital, but pneumonia would.

  Fortunately, the lock was designed for privacy, not security. Unfortunately, it was huge, probably weighed a ton, and was placed on the upper right corner of the door. To make matters worse, Elizabeth's drenched body was a few inches away, making it hard to concentrate.

&nb
sp; His jacket covered her breasts, but her wet skirt was now stuck to her legs, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could see the imprint of her underwear, which appeared to have a lace band on top. His eyes instinctively traveled north to check if there was a matching bra, but he stopped his ocular wanderings and tried to focus on the lock.

  He had to get her out of the grotto and into a warm place before something fell on them. The roof of the grotto looked solid, but he wasn't taking any chances. He already knew that gravity didn't work as expected around Elizabeth. Hell, given her track record, an explosion wasn't out of the question.

  He got the case open and squinted at the mechanism. This would be easier if he had a sharp tool, a hairpin, an earring, anything at all. He turned to ask Elizabeth if she had anything sharp on her.

  Then he froze.

  Her gaze was riveted on the screen. He looked at the television and saw a buxom girl chained to a wall and a gloved hand wielding a vibrating wand in a threatening manner. There was a lot of writhing and moaning.

  The movie wasn't that interesting. Elizabeth, however, seemed mesmerized.

  Now that was pretty darn fascinating.

  Elizabeth's eyes dark with lust, her mouth slightly open, her hands clutching his jacket tightly, that was very, very interesting. He watched as her tongue swept across her lips once, then twice.

  He stared at her, hypnotized. He felt that quick caress in places he shouldn't be feeling anything. At least not anything that was related to Elizabeth. Especially not now, when he had to get them out of the grotto.

  He turned back to the lock but immediately realized he was being an idiot. This had to be the area's most notorious den of iniquity, and he knew someone who would, almost certainly, be intimately familiar with it.

  He took out his phone, scrolled through his contact list, and pressed a number. The phone rang for what seemed like a lifetime, but it was finally picked up.

  "Zach," he said into the phone. "I need the security code to the Howrey hot tub slash orgy cave slash porn movie theatre. Do you know it?"