Ghost's Treasure (6 page)

Chapter 10

The last rays of sunlight streamed across the horizon, announcing imminent nightfall in a few short minutes. While the timing might work to their advantage, Ghost didn't look forward to the drive across town in rush hour traffic.

Ryan clicked off his phone and turned toward Ghost as they stood beside their vehicles in the parking lot of the apartment building. "The team is moving in right now."

Josie walked over to his side, watching Ryan as he told them what he knew.

He glanced in her direction and gave a quick nod. She hadn't said much, though he could ascertain her rattled state by her too bright eyes, the grim set to her mouth, and a restlessness she didn't possess earlier. Not that he could blame her with the twists and turns her life suddenly took in the past several hours. He had to give her credit. Most women would be so discombobulated, they'd fall apart, crying, yelling, even demanding the FBI do more than ensure their safety. Josie did none of that. Simply stayed close in quiet contemplation.

"I'm sorry, Josie. But we can't let you in to collect your belongings and risk contaminating the crime scene."

"I understand. There's nothing to collect anyway. Just some clothes…"

"If you tell me what sizes, I'll make sure there are some clothes waiting for you at the safe house." Ryan pulled out a notebook.

She plucked the paper and pen from his hands, jotted down words, then handed it back. "I'll pay you for them."

Ryan shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Considering everything, I think the agency can cover a few items of clothing."

Exhaustion and sadness crept over her face, the day wearing her down. Ghost decided to hasten things along. After all, he'd have to drive through the masses to his house, gather some supplies, then all the way back across town. It would be a while before they reached their destination and settled in.

"Anything else you need from her before we hit the road?"

"Not that I know of. If I think of anything, I'll call." He started to turn away.

"Wait. What about my parents? My job? I don't want these thieves harassing or threatening them next. That's probably the next place they'll look." She bit her lip.

"We're already ahead of you. I spoke to your boss earlier today. Without giving out too many details, I explained you'd be out of touch for a while. She promised to hold your job and said not to worry about that. I've already contacted the FBI office closest to your parents. They should have already made contact, given them a breakdown of what's going on, reassuring them that you're in good hands and that they will be watching their home twenty-four-seven until these men are taken down."

Josie sighed and nodded. "Thank you." The quiet words carried sincerity.

"All part of the job." Ryan grinned at her, then turned on his heel, heading back inside the building.

She gazed up at Ghost. He braced himself but couldn't stop the deep pain from ripping into his heart each time she looked at him. Too many memories that particular spring leaf green color evoked. Each time her eyes focused on him, old recollections assailed him, the very same ones that he'd locked away years ago in order to move forward with life. Now, in this difficult twist of fate, he was stuck with the woman who stole his breath with one look and opened the door to his past. Something he vowed never to let happen.

"Let's go." Without waiting to see if she followed, he strode toward his truck and slipped into the driver's seat. She hopped in next to him, shut the door, and slipped on the seat belt.

"Now what?"

For once, he answered her question. "To my house for supplies, then we've got a drive to the safe house."

She blinked at him but didn't complain. Instead, if anything, she almost appeared relieved, judging by the easing of tension from her body. "Skis. I hope the house includes a cross-country ski machine."

"Skis?" He shoved the key in the ignition and started the engine. Slipping the truck in gear, he started out of the parking lot.

"Skiing is a stress release for me." She met his gaze, then turned to peer out the side window.

He didn't doubt her words in the least, certainly not about the levels of stress she must currently carry after such and eventful day.

Skiing?
An unusual pastime in the warmer temperatures where they lived, but he couldn't deny her trim form, the robust strength in a small package, the toned body sporting tough muscles. If the sport provided exercise and an outlet for her inner turmoil, then he'd keep her request in mind, though in early spring in the lower elevations, he doubted the skis would do her a bit of good with the lack of white powder on the ground. Not to mention the whole house arrest bit. If she got lucky, they might find her an exercise machine. A big if.

All in all, he'd been impressed with her stoic pragmatism thus far. No female hysterics, no crying. Yet he'd seen a myriad of negative emotions pasted on her face. Like a true survivor, she pushed onward without a single complaint. He wasn't ready to hold his breath for the rest of the time of forced companionship, but the start had proved less mundane and maddening than he'd expected.

She remained silent the rest of the way to his house. Only when he clicked the automatic garage door opener and pulled in, did she begin to stir once more. "Wow. This is impressive."

He shrugged. After losing his wife, he could hardly bear to enter their apartment, besieged by memories everywhere he looked. Each item, every room, the whole place shouted Lindsay, reminding him mercilessly of his loss. Knowing he could never live there again, he gathered up his clothes and asked her parents to take what they wanted. Considering his mother passed away years earlier from a freak accident on her work construction site and he never knew his father, he really didn't have anyone else to pass the belongings to. Anything else he told the apartment manager to use or donate to charity. He never wanted to see any of the belongings again.

At the ripe old age of nineteen, he became an orphan, not even having ever met his grandparents as they'd been estranged from his mother for some time. He also learned his first valuable lesson: money didn't buy happiness. Even though the settlement provided substantial financial resources, it couldn't bring his mother back. Nor could it bring Lindsay back years later.

The single-level all brick ranch house he presently owned provided shelter, peace, and much needed quiet when he could find some downtime between missions. In truth, he spent more time away than there, but the comfortable home gave him a small spot on the earth to return to, kick back, and find what solace he could.

Sliding out of his truck, he pulled a large black duffle bag from behind the seat. With a tilt of his head, he indicated for Josie to follow him. She shot him a puzzled look but trailed along as he entered the house and stepped into the kitchen. Immediately, he set his carrier on the floor, slid his boots off, and headed toward the bedroom.

"Bathroom is the first door on the left."

Striding into his bedroom, he went directly to the closet, dug out a handful more bags, and started packing clothes. At least he had some to pack unlike the woman under his protection.

"Can I do anything to help?" She stuck her head in the doorway.

He tossed her a charcoal backpack. "Under the bathroom sink is toiletry stuff. Don't bother with the open bottles, just take the new ones."

"You want linens or just shampoo, toothpaste, and the like."

"No room for linens. Just basic supplies will suffice."

She turned to go.

"Grab a spare toothbrush while you're under there. Razors too."

With a nod, she disappeared.

By the time he finished packing enough clothes for a week in a variety of places, she returned with a fat backpack. She'd removed her shoes as she entered the house, just as he did. The gesture didn't go unnoticed. He unzipped the top, peeked inside, and nodded in approval.

Walking back to the closet, he pulled a heavy coat from a wooden hanger. "Here."

"What?"

"You'll need this." He gave the garment a toss.

She caught it and held the long black coat with hood up for inspection. "You might need it."

He shook his head. "I have another." Grabbing a nearly identical winter coat, he picked up the clothing bag and headed back toward the kitchen. Once there, he deposited the second container against the first.

Ghost took a moment to visit the bathroom before grabbing up another duffle almost as large as his primary carry-on. Walking into the living room, he came to a halt.

Josie stood next to his gun case, staring through the glass at his small collection of rifles. Interest and awe flickered across her face as she sidestepped from one side to the other.

Turning her head, she met his gaze. "This one. Sniper rifle, right?" She pointed toward the farthest gun to the left.

"Yeah."

"McMillan Tac-50?"

He stared at her for a long moment, surprised she'd know such details about any of his weapons, let alone his military grade choices. "Yeah."

"Cool. Are we taking it with us?"

"No." He didn't need to raid his storage case, not when he had half an arsenal in his big duffle bag, not to mention the couple of SIG P239 handguns on his person. He carried the Barrett M82 and M98B sniper rifles with him on all missions, another MK 15, along with the strategically hidden pistols in holsters. If those weapons didn't provide enough firepower, he was in deep shit.

She frowned for a split second before turning her attention to the other rifles under glass.

A little voice nagged him, pestering him with queries and concerns of how the petite blonde knew about his rifle. She didn't appear old enough to have spent much time in the military, and he didn't see any weapons in her apartment in the brief moments he took to check out the torn apart area. Of course, any invaders would probably have seized the gun without a second thought. Yet she told Ryan nothing important remained. Unanswered questions brought trouble.

"You know guns." He made the words a statement.

"Yeah." She didn't bother to even turn to answer. He waited patiently for her to explain further. When she said nothing, he prodded her along.

"How?"

Turning, she looked at him, those green eyes shadowed in the dim light from the kitchen thrown across the large area. "My father owns a gun shop and shooting range. I've been handling guns and shooting for as long as I can remember." Her words carried truth.

"Yet you told Ryan there was nothing of value inside the apartment to steal."

"There wasn't." She glanced down and shifted her weight.

He waited a beat as he watched her body language carefully for signs of withholding information or outright lies. While she seemed a bit antsy, nothing told him she wasn't being totally honest.

"You didn't have a weapon in your apartment?"

She shook her head. "No."

As much as his curiosity beat at him to learn more, he blatantly ignored the voice inside his head. The more he knew, the more he'd likely want to know, which would lead down a twisting road to nowhere. No. His job remained the same. Keep her alive. Period. Involvement, even as little as sharing stories about lives, did nothing for his mission and only distracted him during times he should be on high alert.

"Grab the backpack." He lifted both duffle bags by the straps and started toward the door, pausing to slip his boots back on. The sooner he hit the road, the sooner they arrived at the safe house. From there, he could count down the hours until this mission ended.

Opening the back of the older model SUV also in the garage, he stashed the supplies, taking the loaded backpack from Josie when she handed the item over. Slamming the door shut, he gestured her back toward the house. "Food and bottled water in the kitchen if you want it. We'll be leaving in a few minutes."

Heading back inside, he repeated the action with his footwear long enough to stuff a laptop into another backpack, this one deep red in color, along with another cell phone. Both untraceable even by the Feds. By the time he zipped the top and slung the pack over his shoulder, Josie stood at the door with a two fat plastic sacks.

"Water for the trip. Sandwiches and fruit, too. Who knows what food the house has in stock? I'd rather eat sooner than later."

He nodded in approval, slipped his boots back on, waited for her to do the same, then waved her out into the garage ahead of him. He shut and locked the door in their wake. Stashing the second backpack with the rest of the bags, he slid into the driver's seat, finding Josie already on board, jostling space for her bags in the floorboard between her feet.

With a push of the button, he waited for the garage door to go up, started the engine, and pulled out. One more push and the door shut tightly. For a moment, he stared at his home.

"What is it?"

He couldn't put his finger on the odd sensation, almost like he hated to leave for fear things would be drastically different when he returned. Or if he returned.

"Nothing." Backing out of the driveway, he put the vehicle in gear and started toward their destination.

Chapter 11

"How safe will this place be?" Josie quietly asked. The silence weighed heavy on her as did Ghost's reluctance to speak. She understood boundaries and the importance of secrets, but something prodded her to delve past the surface with this cold, hard man. Despite the lack of life broadcast in his eyes, she truly believed his heart and soul simply remained dormant like an ice-covered volcano. Inside, a red hot molten mix stirred and bubbled, building until one day the top would blow, sending fresh lava down the mountainside, forever banishing the frozen liquid that had held the volcano caged for years. She only hoped to see Ghost once he morphed from ice sculpture to hot-blooded man.

He shrugged. "Eighty percent. Best guess until I see the place."

"That good, huh?" She put a light teasing into her voice as she slowly grinned.

He didn't take the bait. Simply stared straight ahead as he navigated traffic lights and turns.
Obviously, that topic didn't get his juices flowing.