No sooner had he whispered the words than a line of fire burned down his arm. He instinctively lurched sideways away from the bark of a gun. Losing his precarious balance, he toppled to the side, grabbed onto the top layer of bricks, and held on as his legs swayed over the edge. Glancing down, he found nothing below him but a four story drop destined to snuff out his life or produce serious enough injuries to cripple him for life. He tightened his grip and prepared to pull himself up.
"Surely, you didn't think it would be that easy?" A man stepped forward, removed his ski mask, and stared down at Ghost with dark eyes. The face matched the few pictures he'd ever seen of Striker.
Shit. He'd brought along an accomplice, someone to impersonate him while he snuck up the back stairs. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Always expect another. He forgot the important lesson and paid the price for it.
Striker stepped purposely on his fingers, the only thing keeping him from falling. Gradually, the man shifted more weight, crushing Ghost's digits and loosening his hold.
Ignoring the pain, Ghost sneered up at the other man. "Nothing ever is." One hand slid off, helped with a hard shove by Striker. Ghost managed to bend his injured arm just enough to latch onto the hidden weapon in his waistband holster. Using the momentum of his sway, he yanked it free, aimed at Striker, and pulled the trigger.
The man listed, then somersaulted forward, over the edge, and landed with a resounding thump down below.
Gritting his teeth, Ghost pulled himself back on top of the roof, caught his breath, and stared down at the unmoving body. "It never pays to boast."
* * * *
Ryan slapped Ghost on the back. "Great job. Although it might have been nice if you told me you were locked up in a firefight on the roof. I could've assisted."
Ghost shook his head. "Not your fight."
"Still." Ryan gestured to the bloody trail seen through a rip in Ghost's black shirt. "You might want to stop by the ER on your way home. Looks like you've sprung a leak."
"We'll see."
"Stubborn to the core." He nodded at a couple of coworkers from the FBI's cleanup team.
The small group had arrived almost immediately, jumped to the task, and collected the bodies. Another agent cornered Ghost and Ryan, treating them to a two hour question and answer session, which made the Spanish Inquisition look like a beach party.
Ghost checked his bag once more, then zipped the thick material closed.
As much as he argued with himself, he couldn't help inquiring. "Josie okay?"
Ryan grinned. "As nervous as a long tailed cat in a room of rocking chairs. Lark said she's been pacing all night, worried sick."
"She needs a treadmill."
"Tell that to Lark. She said you'd better stop by and prove you're alive to Josie, in person."
Ghost arched an eyebrow.
"I'd do it if I were you. Lark will hunt you down and drag you back by your ear if she has to."
Ghost sighed and checked his watch. Five am.
"Time doesn't matter when you're already awake." Ryan pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Lark's address. I'll call her and tell her you're coming. After you stop by the local ER and get patched up."
"Hell's bells, don't tell her that. Josie will think the worst."
Ryan grinned mischievously, started to leave, then paused. "Oh, almost forgot. We picked up Shirley Blarney tonight. She's not talking, but that's no surprise. With this kill, the case should be complete and, according to the informant, there's no one else on the payroll for this one. Those that left messages on Josie's phone, one was legit. He's been turned away. The other we picked up a couple days ago."
Ghost leveled his gaze on Ryan.
"You're free, buddy."
With a quick nod, Ghost spun on his heel and left. If he was truly free and done with this case, why didn't he feel excited or relieved? Instead, his shoulders weighed down like he had lost his best friend.
In all honesty he should just walk away, but his conscience and something else wouldn't let him. Instead, he climbed into his vehicle and drove to the local emergency room. Luckily, the waiting room proved empty, allowing him quick service and few questions after he flashed his high security government card. The whole time, he debated what to do. His head said to walk away, his gut said another. In the end, his gut won out because of a couple of important facts. He needed to see Josie again. Assure her he still lived. Maybe then he could return to his normal life and allow Josie to get back to hers. Apart and final.
A deep ache in the vicinity of his heart followed those thoughts. If only things could be different.
He sighed. If only pigs could fly too.
Chapter 30
Lark watched the young blonde woman nearly wear a hole in the hardwood floors from her constant pacing almost since she'd arrived. Worry creased her face into tight lines as she nearly crackled with nervous energy. She declined anything but the lightest supper and a bottle of water. As much as she probably needed sleep, Lark knew Josie wouldn't be able to do more than lie down and think. Rest wouldn't come until Ghost returned. Her heart went out to the woman who in a few short days grew attached to the man with the soulless eyes. She'd do the same if Bryce landed in the same position as Ghost, going one-on-one with a professional assassin in a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Ryan's text came at a good time, or she might have to have her floors sanded and re-stained from all the footsteps trailing over the same area tonight.
"Josie?"
Her houseguest swung around.
"Ryan just called. It's over."
"Ghost?"
"Is perfectly fine."
Josie blinked for a moment like the words had to sink in. Then a smile bright enough to outshine the sun emerged. "Thank goodness."
"What's this I heard about Ghost?" Bryce entered the room from the far hallway, a pistol in hand.
"Ghost nailed the other assassin. It's finally over."
Relief etched Josie's face as she plopped down on the couch, rubbing at her tired eyes. "I've never been so worried in my whole life."
Bryce studied the young blonde for a long moment before sharing a look with Lark. She shrugged but gave a slight nod. Seems her fiancé picked up on the same clues she had earlier. Their little houseguest had definite feelings for her bodyguard. Lark sure hoped so.
"When can I see him?" Josie gazed at her with such hope and longing, she nearly took Lark's breath away.
Lark grinned. "As soon as he gets here. Ryan promised Ghost would drop by even if he had to hog-tie him and deliver him like a Christmas turkey."
Bryce snorted. "As if. Your brother is just begging to get his ass kicked."
Josie giggled. "Now that would be something I'd like to see."
"Me, too," Lark admitted with a chuckle. "So I guess we wait and see who rings the doorbell."
They didn't have long to wait. Bryce gestured the women toward the side hall, away from the door as he checked the peephole. With a quick nod, he unlatched the chain and unlocked the door before pulling it open. "Come on in."
No sooner had Ghost stepped into the entryway and Bryce shut the door, than a streak of blonde flew by Lark.
"Ghost."
Josie ran to her former bodyguard and threw herself in his arms, wrapping herself tightly around him as if he were a long lost lover just returned from a decade long war. While not totally surprising considering their talk earlier, the woman's reaction stunned Lark for only a second before she smiled knowingly.
"You're hurt?" Josie lifted a shirt sleeve to reveal a strip of white gauze. Her face furrowed in worry.
"Just a scratch."
Instead of putting Josie away from him, like Lark expected him to do, Ghost held Josie just as tight, cupping her bottom with one hand when she wrapped her legs around him as well, molding to his person. For long moments, they stood twined around one another, whispering to each other, oblivious to Lark and Bryce.
Josie leaned back enough to rub her nose against his and
grinned brightly. Ghost smiled back, a fleeting expression, all the more special for its rarity.
Bryce nudged Lark and tilted his head toward the couple. "Did you see what I saw?"
Lark nodded and whispered back, "He smiled. I think Josie's just what he needs."
They watched the happy reunion until Ghost almost reluctantly lowered Josie back to her feet. For the first time, his gaze found Lark. "Thank you for watching over her."
He glanced over at Bryce. "I owe you."
Bryce shook his head. "No. We still owe you for taking out those hired assassins before they could wipe out Lark's team."
The men shared a long look before Josie lifted Ghost's arm, her attention roaming his entire body. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine." He looked down at her. "I need to get going. Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?"
Josie fell silent, then nodded. "Please?" She turned back to Lark. "Thank you for everything. I need to get out of your hair, though." Impulsively, Josie hurried over to Lark and gave her a hug, then repeated the action with Bryce. "Thank you. You'll keep in touch, right?"
Lark grinned and nodded. The petite blonde reminded her of a Jack Russell terrier bouncing with energy. After pacing the floor all night, she would have thought the librarian would be exhausted. Apparently not.
She didn't miss the way Ghost's eyes kept traveling back to Josie. The spark in his normally lifeless eyes told her Josie held the key to reclaiming his very soul. A sure sign of something brewing between the two. If only they pursued the budding romance.
She sure hoped so. If anyone deserved a chance at happiness, Ghost, assassin and bodyguard extraordinaire, stood at the top of the list.
Chapter 31
"Where do you want to go? A friend's house maybe?" He offered up as they walked to his waiting SUV. Streaks of pink covered the sky as the sun barely tipped the horizon, announcing another night completed and dawn well on the way.
Josie shook her head. As much as she truly wanted to stay with him, her pride refused to ask. Everyone assured her the mess had finally come to a close, the jewels would go back to Ryan first thing this morning, and she no longer needed a bodyguard. She could return to her previously scheduled life. Only her shaken nerves disagreed.
Sticking her chin in the air, she pulled on her wavering courage. "My apartment, please."
He gazed at her thoughtfully, then broke off long enough to jump in the driver's seat. She gratefully opened the passenger's side door and climbed in, automatically shutting the door and buckling her seat belt.
"Are you sure?" He shoved the key in the ignition, then pinned her with a serious look.
She nodded. "I have to face it sometime. Delaying won't get things back in order."
He cranked the engine, put the vehicle in gear, and pulled out of the driveway. "Makes sense. Just remember the FBI makes lousy maids. There might be a trail or two through the place, but the rest is trashed. They did take the big stuff out, though."
"That's good to know. I only got a glimpse of what it looked like before. I'm sure once I see everything I'll have a full day's work."
She turned to study her bodyguard. Former bodyguard. For all intents and purposes, he appeared unscathed by the whole ordeal. Probably just another day on the job for him. Most likely, he felt relieved at finishing the assignment. Now he could go on about his way. Without her.
A lump formed in her throat. The thought of never seeing him again sent piercing pain through her heart as if someone shot fiery arrows into the center of her being. She'd become attached to him in their nearly two week ordeal. Maybe the fear of being alone drove her. Maybe the violent trauma caused her to misinterpret her feelings of thankfulness for interest and longing. One thing held true. She cared for the man. Big time.
Not to mention she hadn't attained her primary goal yet. He might have shown amusement with a couple of small smiles, but she hadn't heard him laugh, yet. Her stubborn nature refused to give up. She just needed to come up with a way to see him again.
Just ask him out on a date. While good in theory, she didn't know how he'd react when he'd spent so much energy keeping her at arm's length. Goodness knew she couldn't read his normally expressionless face, and his eyes never gave anything away. He said she'd gotten under his skin. A definite step in the right direction, but she needed to find the next stepping stone and soon.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into her parking lot, trudged up the stairs, and entered her apartment. Josie followed Ghost through the door, then stopped in complete astonishment.
Nothing could have prepared her for the chaotic state of her apartment. Josie stood transfixed for a long moment, staring at piles of rubble, resembling tornado debris scattered as far as her eyes could see.
"I can help you clean up," Ghost offered.
She shook her head. "Thank you, but no. You've done so much already, and I know you're exhausted." He'd been up all night long taking out a professional assassin. After several days of little sleep watching over her. She couldn't ask him to do anything else.
"I'm not at the end of my rope yet."
She searched his face and knew he spoke the truth. Yet she needed to deal with this part alone. "I need to take my time, work through this. There's nothing anyone else can do to hurry up the process." With an indebted smile, she returned to his side and hugged him tight.
His arms wrapped around her in return, accepting of the affection and returning the embrace. Her heart soared at the small action.
Leaning back, she sucked in a breath and lifted her chin. "If you really want to help me, come by tonight. By then I might need some help lugging the trash and heavy things down the stairs."
Ghost surveyed the room, then met her gaze. He pulled a pink cell phone from his pocket and handed it over. "New and upgraded." When she started to protest, he shook his head. "Compliments of the FBI."
She took the offering with a small smile. "Thanks."
For a long moment, he paused. "I programmed my cell number into your new phone. Call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll stop by later in the day to help you with the bigger stuff."
"I would appreciate it." She smiled up at him. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
He stared at her for a long moment, then spun on his heel and showed himself out the apartment.
Josie waited until she could no longer hear footfalls on the stairs, then walked over to lock the door behind him.
First, she palmed her phone and dialed her parents, happy to report the situation over with her safe and sound, thanks to her excellent bodyguard. They spoke for a few minutes before she had to cut off with a promise to call them later. She had a big mess to set right and needed to get started before she fell over from exhaustion and lack of sleep. Placing her phone on the cabinet, she released a sigh.
When she turned around, the same fiasco remained as before. "It's not going to clean itself up." With those words, she went to work.
* * * *
Josie kneeled to the floor, picked up a broken table leg, and added the splintered piece to the growing pile of demolished smaller furniture. The break-in over a week before left her present home completely ransacked. Even though the FBI had checked the apartment and cleared out big stuff, they'd left her an abundance of chaos to deal with. They might have tried to organize the mess into cardboard boxes to ensure the place appeared lived in, but the idea proved futile since she had to empty those boxes of miscellaneous things in order to sort everything by category. At least she didn't have to deal with the sofa and bed. From what she gathered, the thief decided she must have hid the jewels inside, so he'd scored both items with a knife, leaving stuffing and strips of mattress and material all over the place.
Walking in early that morning, the mass destruction had frozen her in her tracks. Overwhelmed with the immense mess, she'd spent several minutes simply surveying the damage and pulled on sheer determination to face the facts. She could no longer feel safe in her apartme
nt but also carried a sense of violation, anger, and immense sadness. Whatever made her think she could return to her normal existence proved wrong. Very wrong.
As tired as she felt from a sleepless night full of worry, she couldn't lie down and nap, not with the present state of her home. Not to mention she had no place to stretch out besides the littered floor.
Unable to find a bare spot and face closing her eyes for some much needed rest, Josie instead opted to put her antsy nervous energy to good use. Starting with her entire wardrobe strewn all over the floor, she sorted clothes into groups and started a mountain of laundry. Luckily, her apartment boasted a small washer and dryer, affording her the luxury of doing her laundry in private and not having to hang out in the large laundry room in the basement area. The thought of a strange man pawing through her undies and other garments motivated her to add a bit of bleach to the water whenever possible. Next came the dishes. She filled the dishwasher full of utensils, pots, and pans, which had decorated the kitchen floor in an uncoordinated display of hurried anger. With those longer timed tasks in progress, she focused on picking up odds and ends, throwing away food turned into science experiments from the refrigerator, and continued to strive to place her apartment in some sort of order.
Even with hours of effort behind her, everywhere she looked more bundles and piles demanded her attention. Fatigue washed over her, but she plodded along anyway, her mind unable to rest until the apartment glowed with cleanliness and the potent scent of bleach permeated the whole area.
Dropping another piece of paper into a trash sack, she paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Five large trash bags waited in the kitchen, stuffed full with belongings now in shambles and pieces of the shredded couch. None of the objects were of great importance, yet the sight of broken baubles and basic items left her heartbroken and defeated. Whoever did this managed to touch and destroy nearly everything in his path.
The first tear slipped down her cheek. Then the dam broke. Josie crumbled to the floor beside the stack of useless trash, which used to be her sofa cushions, and began to sob. Everything hit her at once as she finally let her firm resolve soften. The fear, the horrors she'd seen, the lengths a greedy person would go in order to get their hands on old jewelry, the reality of death hovering over her head and Ghost's for the duration of the event. The uncertainty from one day to the next of what would happen, if they would survive, if someone would bash in the door with guns blazing. Sadness crept to the fore. Everything she'd lost with the small invasion and the traumatic memories she'd have to carry from here on out. All because she purchased a box of books at an estate sale.
Ghost's Treasure Page 14