Ghost's Treasure (5 page)

Ghost blinked. Her reply carried strength and determination. Sheer guts, too. Not many women would have been so bold as to make such demands on the federal government. Not to mention the quality of her voice, light and airy, a sound he could listen to for a while without feeling the need to ask for silence so his ears could have a reprieve.

Yet she miscalculated one minor detail. "The Feds will find where you stashed the stuff anyway. You'll be in the same boat one way or another."

A wry smile covered her face. "Oh, I don't think so. I found a good hiding place where I feel they're as safe as a bear cub in his mother's den."

For the first time in forever, Ghost felt a flicker of amusement. Too bad he'd buried every emotion except anger so deep he didn't think he could ever find them again.

Ryan and the rest of the FBI had their jobs cut out for them with this intelligent and quick-witted little lady. He hoped for her sake, she survived this situation.

"So what do you think?" Ryan asked.

"You want me to guard her while you go around searching for tangos?" Ghost spoke slowly, somewhat stunned by this unusual request.

"Yeah. She needs a bodyguard. A good one judging by the quality of the snakes after her."

Josie took that moment to pull off her sunglasses, revealing brilliant leaf green eyes.

Ghost's gut clenched with such excruciating pain, he could have sworn someone stabbed him with a razor-edged knife over and over again. He sucked in his breath and grappled with his overwhelming agony.

Those eyes. The same green color as Lindsay's. He couldn't look at the woman without being immediately reminded of the deceased love of his life.

Turning back to Ryan, Ghost snarled. "I'm an assassin, not a babysitter." Spinning on his heel, he strode back to the truck, focusing on simply breathing in and out, and ignoring the flood of memories that clamored for his attention. Green eyes were fairly rare, thankfully. While he ran into women with that particular color of iris now and again, most tended to have the darker version, which didn't bother him near so much. But this color matched exactly, the color of spring leaves just emerging from their winter buds, a reminder of life reborn and hope.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He set his back teeth and ignored the uncomfortable sensation.

In the background, he heard the woman gasp. Footfalls announced that Ryan followed right on his heels. Unable to turn around, he waited for the other man to speak, knowing nothing in this world would make him change his mind and stick to the woman like white on rice for as long as it took for the FBI to complete the case.

"Ghost? What is it?"

He didn't bother to answer. Another secret he deemed to never tell another person.

Ryan ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. "Look. I don't know what's bothering you, but you're all she has."

"Call in another dumbass bodyguard."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" Ghost swiveled enough to stare into Ryan's blue eyes.

"There's something that you should know. First, the FBI has suffered budget cuts, like everyone else. Our pool of bodyguards has shrunk considerably."

"Not my problem."

"These men after her are professionals. Not just art thieves, but hired killers. One of the voice mails on her phone matches a high-class individual who makes his living kidnapping, stealing, and a little murder for hire on the side." He puffed out a breath. "She knows she's bait for the department, and she's okay with that. All she's asking for is a protector, just one, until these guys can be taken off the street. Then she'll return the treasure to the Polish people, where it belongs, free."

Ghost listened, his mind still whirling after the shock of his life.

"She's smart and spunky too. Stood up to my supervisor like a five-star general." Ryan sighed and lowered his voice. "In short, she's too good to die for something she stumbled into. And I don't think any of our typical bodyguards are skilled enough to keep her intact. She needs you, Ghost, if she's going to survive this."

Glancing over his shoulder, Ghost read the worry, fear, and concern written across her face. Those expressive eyes clouded with emotion as if she knew her life hung in the balance.

"Fine. One week. No longer." Ghost yanked open the door on his truck.

"Thanks." Ryan smiled wide and handed over a slip of paper. "Here's the address to one of the best safe houses and the code for the alarm. Everything should be in order and ready to receive guests."

Ghost scanned the paper, folded it, and stuffed it in his pocket. "I'll deal with you only. No one else."

"Fine."

"Come on, lady. Shake a leg. We've got things to do besides sit in this damn parking lot getting a tan."

She snorted but hurried over to climb into his passenger seat.

Ghost turned his attention from her back to Ryan. "You owe me."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, I know. If it's any consolation, I'm making sure they double your typical wages for this mission."

What the man didn't realize was money meant little to Ghost. He needed a small amount to live off and to keep his home in repair. That's about it. The rest went into the bank where it sat undisturbed. Greenbacks didn't motivate him. Not much did. Ridding the earth of evil ranked top of the list with saving some innocent lives right below.

Ryan hastened back to his truck, grabbed a file, and brought it over. He handed it to Ghost. "Details on the case, information on the tangos. That's everything we have so far. Anything else pops up, I'll forward to you as well."

Ghost tossed the manila envelope on top of his dash and turned to address the woman sitting in the cab of his truck. "Your cell phone." He held out his hand.

"What about it?" she asked.

"Give it here."

Dutifully, she pulled the small device from her purse and handed it over. He palmed the pink phone, spun, and tossed it to Ryan.

"Hey! That's mine."

He leveled his gaze at her. "Which is easily traceable by those goons you're trying to avoid, right?"

Her mouth shut, but her lips thinned into a line as her face pinched into a scowl.

Let her be pissed. He didn't give a damn. As long as she stayed alive, the rest she'd have to learn to deal with. Where they were going, no amenities waited. Basic home with little else to offer besides quiet and self-isolation. His preferred way of life.

"Check in when you get there." Ryan started toward his truck with a brief wave.

Ghost nodded. Climbing into the driver's seat, he turned to his passenger. "Let's get one thing straight, lady. My job is to keep you alive. Period. Not pamper you, provide entertainment for you, or give in to your whimsical wishes. Obey and don't argue. If you can handle that, we might just come through this with our hides intact."

"And if I don't?" she asked tartly.

"Then I'll leave you to your own devices."

He heard her puff out a breath, the only sound for a long moment as he started the engine and pulled into traffic. "I assume you'll need to pick up a few necessities at your place. Same with me."

She nodded. "My apartment. Pine and Locust."

"We'll start there."

Chapter 9

Josie studied the man next to her with avid interest. Large and solid came to mind. Yet his big hands gripped the steering wheel with gentle ease, as if he were guiding a ship's wheel through placid waters. His carriage spoke of confidence and the ability to handle just about anything that came his way. Definitely military background and fairly high up, would be her guess. While he might not make it on the cover of a fashion magazine, his bold looks and thick muscles would easily garner plenty of attention, especially from the fairer sex.

His face captured her attention the most. A square jaw promised stubbornness, a sampling she'd already experienced for herself. His nose appeared straight, while short medium brown hair topped his head. But those eyes. Light blue like the Pacific Ocean right off a Hawaiian beach she'd once seen in a travel brochure. Beautiful in their color, but absolutely flat, devoid of emotions. Nothing stirred within those beautiful irises, signaling heart or soul. While he sat a few feet away, obviously alive and well, his eyes resembled a dead person. She could only wonder what might have happened in his life to kill his inner essence.

An assassin. The knowledge made her uneasy knowing they'd be in such close proximity for several days to come. Ryan seemed like a good guy, pretty personable for a Fed. Surely, he wouldn't lead her astray with his choice of protectors. Good thing Ghost seemed to be on her side because she knew in absolute certainty that if he hunted her, she wouldn't stand a chance.

She could see how the career fit a man like Ghost. In her brief time with him, she couldn't help but notice his methodical movements, sure and steady. His voice, which lacked inflection, brought to mind a cold and calculated mentality.

Excitement and a ripple of sexual interest flowed through her when she first laid eyes on the man standing at the truck, patiently waiting for them. Once she drew closer, the appreciation of his handsome and rugged looks only grew. Until she read his face and shivered with the chill she saw.

Who am I to judge?
She needed a hard man to protect her through this already harrowing ordeal. Ghost fit the bill. She decided the man feared nothing and no one, and had ample skills to protect her and half a country if he decided the risk was worth his time and effort. If he kept the bad guys at bay, she'd endure all the arctic frigidness he could throw her way.

While he might prove to be just what she needed in her time of crisis, she couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the man. What kind of life must he live, emotionless and bleak? Alone and isolated? Caring probably proved a detriment to someone whose career involved killing people. Sounded pretty darn sad to her. Her heart went out to the man.

The awkward silence began to fray her already strung-out nerves. "So, Ghost, is it?"

He nodded briefly.

"Care to tell me about yourself? Something. Anything. Where you're from. How you started working with the Feds?"
Why you appear dead inside?

"No."

She blinked at the one syllable answer. "No?"

"No." Deadpan.

"Why not?"

He remained mute. She gathered her patience and resolve. "The way I see it, we're going to be together for the next several days. Getting to know one another might help us get along better and make the time go by faster."

"Did you already forget what I told you back there?"

"The part about no arguing, do exactly as you say because you're not my babysitter?"

"That's all you need to know."

Make that cold, calculated, and blunt.
Still, she couldn't shake a nagging feeling that Ghost experienced some horrendous tragedy that made him this way. Her marshmallow heart whispered for her to do something. To bring the humanness out in him once more. Remind him what life could be.

We're only going to be together for a few days. Why bother?

Because I can't stand to see a beautiful creature suffer.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later, they stepped out of his truck after he'd parked in front of her apartment building, having spent the majority of the ride in total silence. The quiet time had allowed her to plan what items she needed to pack for her impromptu trip and what she would tell her boss about such a rushed leave of absence. No great excuses came to mind, so she decided to let Ryan handle that small tidbit when they called him later on. He worked for the FBI, he could come up with something substantial enough to ensure her job remained when she returned.

"I'm on the second floor." She dug her keys out of her purse and jogged up the stairs, knowing full well Ghost followed right behind. While she couldn't hear a single footfall, she felt his presence. Without turning around, she slipped the key in the lock, twisted her wrist, and pushed the door open. One step into the room and she froze from the unbelievable sight.

The room looked like a small tornado zipped through, leaving furniture overturned, drawers emptied on the floor, all her belongings strewn out as far as she could see.

She gasped as her heart stuttered.

Ghost pulled her back into the hallway. "Stay here."

Before she could kick her mind back in functioning order, he pulled a handgun from a holster in the back waist of his pants, pointed the weapon at the ceiling, and silently moved in, shutting the door behind him.

Josie stood out in the hall, struggling to gain control of her erratic heartbeat and rapid breathing. An anxiety attack would only make things worse at this point in the game. Inside, she shook like a tree in a severe storm, but outside, she focused on a cool and collected presentation. She gathered up her formidable courage and stubborn pride, lifted her chin, and focused on adjusting to this latest demoralizing obstacle in such a short period of time. After all, they were bound to search her apartment. Exactly the reason she refused to hide her treasure anywhere inside.

Ghost eased the door open once more and slipped out. "Do you absolutely have to have anything from in there?"

She shook her head. Living fairly spartan did have a few bonuses. Dusting only took a few mintues, she didn't worry about fashion or fads in interior decorating, and she didn't own tons of stuff that spent long years in storage to never see the light of day on a display table. Seems she discovered another pro to her down to the basics living. When burglars broke in, there was nothing to steal.

"A computer?"

"No. I just use my work computer for emails and such. They don't mind, and I don't spend enough time on one to justify purchasing one for home use." Her voice held steady, as if she spoke about the weather. She attributed the calm demeanor partially to shock, partially to the sad truth that she might be getting a bit used to her life rolling in turmoil the past couple of days and the huge effort she made to hold herself together.

Ghost whipped out his phone and punched in numbers. "Ryan. We have a situation." His bleak gaze met hers. "They've hit her apartment."