Ghost's Treasure (12 page)

"Ever go skinny dipping?"

Except for her unending questions and rampant curiosity.
He sighed and flipped his gun over to check the other side.

"I bet you have. Probably did that in your decadent teen years. Skinny dipping with the cheerleaders at the lake on summer break." She tilted her head and nibbled her bottom lip.

The action made his long dormant libido sit up and take notice.

"What are you doing?" He pinned her gaze.

"Playing twenty questions." She lifted her chin almost defiantly.

He shook his head. "I'm not playing with you."

"That's okay." She shrugged. "I'll ask and if you don't answer, no biggie. I'll just make up the answers you don't provide."

"Wonderful." He grumbled, even as a spark of amusement hit him square in the chest. Leave it to Josie to paint his life in brightness and wild escapades.

Josie tapped her finger over her lips. "Let's see. I bet your favorite color is pink. You grew up wanting to be a stripper, love vanilla ice cream melting over a woman's hot belly as you lap it up." She looked at his feet, then back again. "Oh, and you stay in shape practicing ballet with size eighteen ballet slippers."

He stared at her, dumbfounded.
Where did she come up with this shit?
Though he found her ramblings almost entertaining, he preferred not to find out where she went next.

Tucking his gun back in the holster at his ankle, he walked over to his main duffle bag, sifted through until he found the item he wanted. He carried the book over to Josie and handed it over. "Here. Read this."

Her face contorted in confusion. "What's this? Abe Lincoln?" Her gaze flicked from the cover to his face.

"Stop bothering me with questions and do something beneficial. Read." He returned to his seat and plopped back down.

"Why Abe Lincoln?"

Ghost shrugged. "He's an interesting man. You can learn things from certain historical leaders."

She seemed to ponder his words, then moved to curl up in the corner of the couch before opening the front cover.

The house fell blissfully quiet as she started reading.

Chapter 20

Josie spent part of the morning watching flurries fall from the sky after reading Ghost's book and contemplated what made her bodyguard tick. A few puzzle pieces tantalized her already. Not enough to form a solid picture, but certainly more than she had before. Slowly but surely, she made small progressive steps in her goal to figure the man out.

Finished cleaning the kitchen, Josie wiped her hands on the damp towel, and flicked it at Ghost as he stood nearby finishing the last of his coffee. He arched an eyebrow at her, but remained mute.

She grinned, flipping the improvised weapon at his rear once more.

Setting his coffee mug back on the counter, Ghost pinned her with his steely gaze. "Don't bite off more than you can chew."

She bit her lip to keep from giggling. Waking up this morning, she felt energetic and a bit playful, despite the increasing odds that they'd have deadly visitors soon. No boogey men showed up the night they'd arrived or all the next day. Today certainly could be the one, at least Ghost seemed to think so judging by his forest camouflage clothing choice instead of his typical black or even blue jeans, which she'd seen him wear before. Instead of wallowing in worry, she decided to embrace life, enjoy the hours while she could, just in case this proved to be her last day on earth. Gigging her bodyguard fell into her entertainment category, whether he wanted to be there or not.

Another person might have taken one glimpse of his fierce expression, tucked tail, and ran. Not her. She knew him well enough to stand in the trenches and push his buttons a few times. Josie eagerly stepped up to the challenge. Taking time to aim, she smacked his rear, the popping sound cracked across the room. She squealed when he lunged for her.

Deceptively quick, Ghost grabbed her around the middle, lifted her with ease, and deposited her over his shoulder, her rear sticking up in the air. His strong arm wrapped around her thighs effectively stilling her halfhearted bid for freedom, while he snared the towel, yanked, and gave the material a toss on the kitchen cabinet.

She assessed her new position, draped over his shoulder, hanging upside down, and staring straight at the man's rear. "Speaking of biting… A bird's eye view of the world's most perfect rear. I wonder…" She planted her hands on his cheeks and squeezed. "Oh, yeah. Definitely squeezable. And delicious. Just one little nip." Leaning in, she opened her mouth wide only to end up grunting as he tapped her rear, pushed her up, then returned her to her feet. His hands remained clamped on her waist.

Josie laughed in glee, then gasped when she saw his face, her heart stuttering at the relaxation spread across his features, the tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"What?" His gruff voice carried easily to her as she stood flush against his body.

She reached out, absently resting her hands on his broad chest, unable to take her gaze from his face. "You're breathtaking."

He snorted, the familiar flatness returned as quickly as it receded. "Lady, you need your eyes checked." Releasing her, he stepped back a couple of paces.

"It's true. Not just your physical appearance, although you top the scale on that particular matter. But, inside, too."

"Stop painting me in flattering colors. Or have you forgotten who I am and what I do?" His eyes narrowed.

"I've forgotten nothing, just chosen to look a little deeper."

He shook his head. "Blind as a fruit bat."

Running with her instincts, she pursued the topic. She decided to test her theory about him by throwing out a couple of pitches. "You've got principles and courage. The military sharpened your skills, taught you new ones."

"I never said I was in the military."

She grinned, remembering the television show from last night on the Navy SEALs. Ghost simply looked like he fit in the bunch. "I've seen the swagger before. Career soldier, I'm sure. More than happy to leave the training base behind and fly anywhere to rid the world of evil. In your case, I'd bet special ops. High up in the food chain. The unsung heroes who go behind the scenes and perform great feats without the world having a clue."

"I'm not anyone's hero." He walked over, picked up his rifle and a cleaning cloth. Sitting down, he began to clean the weapon with practiced ease.

"Hey, anyone who walks into battle is a hero in my book."

When he remained mute, she rambled on. "You've put up with me so far and haven't strangled me yet. That probably qualifies you for sainthood."

He snorted. His shoulders eased as he wiped the metal down with a soft cloth. For all intents and purposes, he appeared bored with her observations, yet the sound bordered on amusement. Maybe he found her entertaining after all.

"Doing what I'm paid to do."

Josie tilted her head. "I don't think it's the money that motivates you."

Ghost lifted his gaze.

"I think you do it for more noble reasons. A man like you could easily live off the land, probably doesn't need a lot of cash to keep him happy. Just give him a gun, point out something that needs done, and the monetary payment is a trivial detail."

"Don't go painting any pastel pretty pictures of me, lady. I'm a hired killer, or did you forget that already?"

"You're still a man. Hard at times, soft at others."

He stared blandly at her. "I assure you there's no softness left inside me."

"Yes, there is. It's just been so long since you let that part of yourself free, you don't recognize you still possess the ability. But I see it."

Ghost shrugged and continued with the task of cleaning his rifle. "Maybe at one time. Not any longer."

Josie eyed him carefully, trying to read his expressionless face. "A woman." Her breath caught as his normally flat, emotionless eyes flashed momentarily with pain. Whatever ate at him still lived and desperately needed an avenue out. She played her hand, pushed for more, hoping to make a small dent in the steel wall around his soul. "A woman is responsible for this."

His lips thinned out. Setting aside his rifle, he stood, pressed into her personal space. "Fine. You want to know?"

"Yes." She lifted her chin, refusing to back down or cow.

"My wife was four months pregnant when a drunk driver, a repeat offender, hit her head-on and killed them both."

Josie gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth.

"I was on a mission halfway across the world. By protocol, I didn't learn what happened until she'd been buried for weeks. The grass had already grown over by the time I actually made it to her grave."

"Oh my god. What about the man responsible?" She whispered the question, needing to know the full story, her heart breaking for what he must have suffered needlessly.

"The bastard had the audacity to die in the resulting car fire. He was mine to hunt, to torture, to put to death." His eyes flashed as he bit off every word. Rage and unbridled pain carried in his abrupt tone.

"I'm so sorry." The phrase sounded so inadequate even though she spoke with utmost respect and sincerity.

Turning, he paced across the kitchen floor. "That's the man I am. Willing to kill for a living. Hell, I'll kill for free when the assignment suits me."

She moved behind him, lightly resting her hand on his shoulder. He tensed but didn't jerk away. A small victory in her book. "You do what you have to, what the country needs you to do. But you're selling yourself short about the man underneath."

"Bullshit."

Pausing a moment, she changed tactics and prayed she chose the right direction. "There's nothing you could have done. Like you said, you were half a world away."

"I should have been there. With her. Protected her. I promised Lindsay I'd take care for her. Always."

"Died with her?"

"Yes." He put more emphasis on that one word than Josie had ever heard before, as if the word had been dragged from the very depths of his innermost being.

She nodded. Survivor's guilt weighed heavily on Ghost. That explained so much. "Lindsay sounds like a woman who loved spring and laughter."

"Flowers and children."

"Enjoyed people and found joy in everyday life." She thought a moment. "What about your parents?"

His lips thinned. "My father was a fly-by-night bastard. Never knew him. My mother died when a construction beam fell on her at work. She was an architect, worked so hard to get her degree and provide for us."

"Everyone you loved died before their time." She didn't realize she vocalized the words until he stared at her with such a look of misery, her heart clenched.

He looked away, but not before she glimpsed resounding suffering. The first sign of sadness from him in their short time together. Maybe, just maybe, he could let some of his pent-up emotions go. She didn't fool herself into thinking he'd put the past behind him with one simple conversation. Yet if she could build enough rapport, pave the way for future discussions, perhaps she could rediscover the humanity inside him.

She tried a different angle. "What would Lindsay have done if you didn't return from war?"

His thumb rubbed across the stock of his gun. "We talked about it before my last tour. I told her I wanted her to be happy again, to move on, find another man to love who would raise our child as his own." His voice faded to a bare whisper.

Tears pooled in her eyes at his pain, extreme heartache, and the tragic loss he endured each day. "Wouldn't she want the same for you?"

He mulled the question over for a long moment.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the first alert mechanical eyes sounding off.

Ghost's expression turned deadly serious. Quickly, he gathered up his rifle, slung it over his shoulder by the long strap, then handed her the spare. "You can handle a bolt action, right?"

She nodded. "I trained on single bolt action until I switched to the Fortner." Reaching out, she took the rifle with steady hands.

"Good. It's loaded with a full clip. Stay here and don't let anyone in. If he flushes you, go out the secret exit and head east to the stream at the bottom of the hill and hide in the brush. I'll find you there." He met her gaze, gave a brief nod, then slipped out the back door as quiet as a mouse.

Chapter 21

The low murmur of a car engine crept closer until ceasing entirely.

Her nerves tightened into balls as she waited, hiding in the hallway, away from all the windows and doors, praying their visitors wouldn't see her, give up, and drive off. However, she knew those prayers would go unanswered. She didn't have that kind of luck lately.

A strong banging on the front door drew her attention. She held her breath.

"Miss Summers. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Josie flinched at an all too familiar voice. Robert Harris, the fake FBI agent, real-life burglar who had a track record of killing if deemed necessary to obtain the object he sought. Frantically, she weighed her options. Staying in the cabin provided safety as long as he remained outside, didn't pick the lock, or kick the door in. He might consider shooting through the door or even burning down the small house, but she'd warrant he'd already tossed aside those options. As long as she held the secret to the hiding place of the treasure, he needed her alive. Although alive carried several definitions, she knew he wouldn't flat-out kill her, at least not yet.

Ghost already hunted in the woods surrounding the small cabin. Harris probably didn't come alone, putting Ghost at a decided disadvantage in numbers. With plenty of adversaries to keep him busy, he couldn't rush to her aid. Fear raised its ugly head as the odds against them seemed to swell.

"Don't make me come in there. The longer you make me wait, the less merciful I'll be."

She shuddered, then gasped as the front doorknob rattled. Without a second thought, she tightly clutched the rifle, and scurried to the back room. Pulling the closet door open, she pushed the tiny buttons in the far corner, then stepped back to allow the back wall to shift open. After closing the closet door back, she stepped inside the secret passage, punched the inside button, waited for the door to begin to shut, then spun on her heels. The narrow tunnel had only dim lighting from a string of lights attached to the ceiling, but she hurried along, trailing one hand along the wall to keep her balance and to help guide the way.
Just a few more steps. The exit should be just ahead at the cave entrance.