Ghost's Treasure (15 page)

Chapter 25

The only words he'd spoken since they arrived at the third safe house in less than a week simply assured her the house checked out clean. Since then, he busied himself studying windows, doors, locks, even the exterior, presumably searching for any weakness or avenue of entrance. Hopefully, with the tracer left behind, they wouldn't have to suffer through another late night invasion.

He strode over to his duffle, pulled out his rifle, a bottle of oil, a rag, and began to clean. She'd watched him care for his weapons numerous times in their brief acquaintance. A clean gun is a working gun. Her father's quote sprang into her mind from years of helping him at his gun shop and her time as a competitive athlete. Still, Ghost's firearms probably received more attention than necessary, leading her to believe he fell back on the old, familiar task to keep his hands and mind busy.

The change in Ghost's behavior hadn't been missed. Instead of begrudging the fact her bodyguard once more resembled a drill sergeant, she took hope in the small breakthrough today. If she read him correctly, the return of a couple of emotions didn't set well. He'd just have to get used to it. After all, she prodded him to find his humanity once more, to experience life to its fullest, not just the heat of battle but the softer, kinder moments as well. He deserved happiness.

"Need some help? I can work on the rifle I used earlier."

He shook his head.

The silent treatment. Again.
She tried a different direction. "The freezer and refrigerator look fairly stocked, so I can make just about anything. What sounds good to you?"

"I'm not hungry."

Her temper began to spark. Ignoring her was one thing, ignoring the needs of his body another. The man barely slept. She drew the line at eating. "Fine. I'll just fix something anyway."

Continuing with his task, he didn't even bother acknowledging her presence.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him coolly. Unable to stand the growing tension, she tossed out the first pitch. "Care to tell me what I've done to piss you off royal?"

Ghost remained mute.

She saw red. How could they be a team when he clearly carried some unbeknownst animosity toward her? He might go through the motions of his job, but she needed to be along for every step of the way. Her sanity depended upon it.

"You told me you were in this for the long haul." Her voice took on an angry tone.

He looked up to meet her gaze. "Yes."

"Are you regretting those words? Tired of playing the role of babysitter? Eager to return to the front lines as a highly paid assassin?" She tossed out anything she could think of, knowing he'd never volunteer the information.

"No. I'll finish what I started."

"And you hate that, don't you?" When he shook his head, she threw her hands up in the air. "You're chained to me and can't stand another day of being in my presence."

"No. Can't you get anything through your hard head today?" His tone filled with a hint of impatience and a hefty dose of frustration. "I'm not going anywhere and leaving you to fend for yourself."

"Why? If you are so fed up with this job, why would you stick around when the FBI can find a replacement?" Hands on hips, she demanded an answer. What she received nearly knocked her off her feet.

"Because you've gotten under my skin, lady."

She blinked and gasped at his declaration. Frustration spurred her onward. "Which you absolutely dislike."

"Do you know what it's like to have your heart torn out? Do you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"It's like your world came to a screeching halt, leaving you with a spear implanted in your belly. You can't remove it, and nothing you do eases the pain. Days drag on in agony. Until one day you find a way to survive. By burying the past and never digging it up again." He set the rifle aside. "I was just fine until you came along, deciding to push me into facing those demons again. Damn you for that."

Her mouth fell open as she gathered her wits. "If you can feel something again, even anger, then I've succeeded. You can't go through life like a zombie, Ghost. Yes, Lindsay is gone and will never return. You said it yourself, you had to bury the past and move on. Only you didn't move forward, you keep circling the same spot over and over again. After everything you've been through and done, you deserve a future."

"Bullshit." He stood up and frowned down at her, his voice gaining in sharpness.

"Call me an imbecile, but I can't give up on you or walk away and pretend you aren't suffering. Not after everything you've done." She marched over to stand directly in front of him, not the least intimidated by his sheer size and the fact he towered over her by a good head.

"I don't want your help or pity."

"It's not pity, damn it. It's caring. I care about you. So buck up, soldier, and deal." She punctuated each word by poking him in the chest with her index finger.

For a long moment, they stared at one another. Regret grew as she feared she crossed a hard line.

Then he growled, pulled her into his embrace, and meshed their lips in a fiery tempest.

Josie hesitated only a second before responding to his demanding kiss with gusto. Opening her mouth, she not only invited his tongue to visit, but she returned the favor, aggressively seeking a deep taste of the man who drove her crazy. He tilted his head, realigned their mouths and plundered once more, seizing control, and demanding she match his need with her unbridled passion. He nipped her bottom lip, then laved his tongue over the area. Both hands cupped the back of her head, holding her still for his sensual exploration.

She moaned low in her throat, her belly flip-flopped with exponentially growing desire. Ghost kissed her like a starving man and she was his dish of honey. He supped, licked, and pressed his body into hers. Never had she experienced such a wild ride of pleasure from a kiss. He claimed her mouth, left no spot unplundered, and poured everything he couldn't say out loud into a lip-lock so mesmerizing, so delicious, Josie's world narrowed until only they existed. She never wanted the affection to end.

The need for oxygen made them separate all too soon. Josie panted, still standing in his embrace, her gaze once again locked on his face.

He lightened his hold on her head but didn't release her completely. Instead, he seemed to search her face until he found an answer he needed. "I'm a SEAL, lady. Not a soldier."

"Oh." Her breathless voice carried easily in their close quarters. She kicked her muddled brain into gear. That simple word explained so much. The top of their class, SEALs were basically highly trained killers, able to infiltrate and rescue anywhere in the world, familiar with languages, weapons, and the workings of human minds. Their playground consisted of physical and mental challenges very few could survive and declare victory. The information only impressed her all the more. "If all SEALs kiss like that… Wow." She grinned up at him. "You'd make a fortune in a kissing booth."

* * * *

He opened his mouth to berate her for pushing him to this point only to clamp shut again. Once again she surprised him, tumbled him off balance with her sincere, yet zany compliment. Seeing the appreciation on her face, feeling her avid response, the glow to her face, he didn't have the heart to offer up a scathing retort and watch the life was sucked out of her.

Later, he might call himself all sorts of fool, but for the moment, he could only summon a less than lukewarm chastisement. Even those words seemed too harsh. Damned if he didn't feel the same way. Something about Josie blew warmth over his heart and cracked open a place he previously welded shut for all time.

His chin dropped as he realized somehow Josie not only snuck under his skin, but she pried loose emotions he locked away years ago. Whether he liked it or not, this little assignment made a huge dent in his life.

Almost at a loss of words, he stood transfixed, watching her green eyes sparkle. Once their color had caused a wave of unbearable pain to wash over him. Now they captured his interest and brought a good amount of amusement and pleasure. Still, he needed to warn her, make her understand their time would be limited together before they each returned to their global opposite lives.

"Look, Josie…"

She waved him off. "There's no sense in apologizing. As you can tell, I happened to like your kisses. If you're going to say this can't happen again, I'd rather not hear those words."

"It can't. I'm not the man for you." He ran one hand through his hair, finding this topic more difficult than he expected.

"Why do you think that?" She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

"Because you keep painting me as a hero, as an extraordinary man. I'm the farthest from such a thing."

"But…"

"I'm not noble. I'm a killer. Hell, I've spent some time in jail." She blinked but remained quiet. "That's right. I have an arrest record. After Lindsay died, I was lost. Took every mission thrown my way, determined if someone had to forfeit his life, it should be me since I had nothing else to live for." He turned around to stare out the window. "Yet no matter the odds, I survived, my will to live undented despite the fact I was lifeless inside. After a while, I grew tired of the missions, decided to leave the military, try to find a new one, to move on, to finally discover an outlet for the unending pain."

"What did you do?" Josie whispered.

"Drinking didn't help. Neither did being around friends. They meant well, but I couldn't handle their pity, their apologies for what happened, the looks of worry in their eyes. So I took off. Traveled around aimlessly, no real direction, just searching for my niche. Spent lonely nights with hot, willing women, only to rise before dawn and move on. Before long, even the physical release wasn't enough of an escape." He sighed and shifted his weight, refusing to turn around to look at her while telling his story. "A bar fight landed me in jail. Pissed at life, I carried a chip on my shoulder and lost most of my common sense. The small town sheriff ran my background, then sat down and read me the riot act. By the time he finished, I felt like a rebellious teen being taken down a notch by his father." He puffed out a breath. "That's when my life turned around. I buried my feelings and met up with a man the sheriff recommended as a possible job. Tucker. A career assassin with retirement on his mind. He took me in, taught me a few tricks of the trade, used my SEAL training to his advantage, and set me on the road to my profession."

With a sigh, he watched a bird searching through the backyard grass for a snack. "Don't put me on a pedestal because that's the last place I belong. I kill people for a living. Period. One day, I'll go to hell for my sins."

Hushed footfalls carried to his ears. Josie moved to stand at his side, angled enough to stare up into his face. Slowly, she reached up with her hand and cupped his cheek with such tenderness his heart wept. Her expressive eyes and face told him what she thought of his story. Compassion. Understanding. And damn reverence.

"Seems to me you've done a very good job at surviving what would have killed most people. War. Battles. Special ops missions. The tragic loss of your wife and child, and mother. An average person would have crumbled or gone mad." She caressed his five o'clock shadow with her thumb as she met his gaze steadily. "You're strong, Ghost. Always have been, always will be. Just to become a SEAL takes more courage and gumption than ninety-nine percent of Americans have. To go through what you did took guts and strength. Yes, you're an assassin. Because someone has to take out the evil forces in this world. You do a job few want or have the skills to do adequately in order to protect the rest of us." A slow smile appeared on her face. "So berate me all you want about how you aren't good enough or man enough. I'll tell you right now, you're the best man I've ever met, inside and out."

"You've been around damn few men then."

She shrugged. "Enough to know the difference."

"Then you better take off your rose-colored glasses and see the real world." His voice lacked anger or inflection of contempt. Instead, the words came out as a weak attempt to repel her views.

His phone rang, interrupting the conversation. She dropped her hand, but held her position as Ghost first checked the caller ID, then answered. "Yeah."

Ryan's voice came through clear. "We need to meet. ASAP."

"What's going on?" Concern flashed over him. He hated last minute changes and mysterious phone calls. They never boded well.

"Not over the phone. In person."

Ghost sighed. "Fine. Grocery store on James and Lynn. Forty-five minutes. Northwest corner of the lot."

"I'll be in the green SUV waiting." Ryan clicked off, leaving Ghost with an ominous feeling. Whatever the other man had to say must be important and full of bad news. The back of his neck itched.

Chapter 26

Ghost pulled into the back of the grocery store parking lot, aiming straight for the deep green SUV Ryan informed them he'd be driving. He pulled up right beside him so the cars faced opposite directions, allowing for Ryan and Ghost to converse easily without having to move an inch.

After rolling down his window, Ghost cut the engine, his focus on Ryan's stoic face, which carried a hint of frustration. He didn't have anything good to impart.

"Get in. I have news."

Ghost nodded to Josie, waited for her to exit the passenger seat, then followed suit. Once she slid into the second row of seats in Ryan's vehicle, he took the shotgun position and shut the door behind him. "What's up?"

"We know who's financing your tangos. Shirley Blarney. Seems her fingerprints were on the tracking pen, too."

"Never heard of her."

"Me, either," Josie added in from the back.

"Probably not, but maybe this one will ring a bell. Striker."

Ghost's heart stuttered. The man's reputation preceded him. "An assassin extraordinaire who doesn't concern himself with which side of the law he stands as long as the money's good." He glimpsed worry on Josie's face before focusing back on Ryan. "How do you know he's involved?"