Ghost's Treasure (9 page)

She lowered herself to hands and knees, searching through the bottom of a kitchen closet. "Because I need to run."

"Why?"

Sitting back on her heels, she looked at him. "I run nearly every day if I can't ski or hit the cross-trainer machine. Even though I retired from biathlon, I can't seem to stop working out and staying in shape. It's been three days since I last ran. I'm nervous. I'm antsy, and I need to do something physical, big time."

He shot her a look and watched as color splashed across her cheeks.

"Not
that
. Geez. I don't need sex. I need to run. However, I doubt you'll think trucking out the front door and jogging a few miles in the open is a good idea. Thus, I decided cleaning might be a good outlet." She crawled over to the center of the kitchen, opened the area under the sink, and reached in. "Ah ha. This will work."

Craning his head, he noted the item she held in her hand. A white bottle of bleach. Before he could utter a protest, she pulled out a bucket, some housecleaning gloves, and turned on the hot water.

Fifteen minutes later the smell of detergent burned his nose as she presumably scrubbed the bathroom with a vengeance. Already the strong smell permeated the entire house and would only worsen as she made her way through the rooms. His patience wearing thin, he pulled an ace out of his pocket in the form of a phone call to the person responsible for this whole situation.

"Blake."

"Send over a treadmill pronto." Ghost didn't worry about formalities. Mostly they were a waste of time, energy, and breath.

"A treadmill? What in the hell do you need one of those for?"

Ghost sucked in a breath and swore his nostrils started to melt. "To prevent my early demise due to asphyxiation by bleach fumes."

A silent pause followed before Ryan chuckled. "She's a bundle of nerves, huh?"

"More like the Energizer Bunny on crack." He groaned at the thought of a daily dose of this much bubbly bouncing.

"You know, she's pretty easy on the eyes…"

Ghost growled into the phone. "Don't even go there, Ranger."

"Just saying."

"Uh huh. Just saying if you don't get a treadmill here in an hour, I'm packing her up and dropping her off at your doorstep." His commanding tone ensured the threat.

"Hey! It's not like I have a treadmill giftwrapped in my office and ready to go."

"Make it happen." Ghost clicked off before Ryan could answer. He felt marginally better and more relaxed after giving the FBI man some grief. Ryan bore responsibility for this fiasco; he needed to bear some of the consequence.

Chapter 15

An hour later, the doorbell rang.

Although he already knew who stood outside the front door, he hadn't lived this long by taking anything for granted. Ghost gestured to Josie to back away from the door. She complied with tiny frown lines marring her expressive face. He expected in a few minutes her worry would turn to excitement. Hopefully.

Pulling his pistol, he carefully opened the door, finding a blond-headed Ryan staring back with a wry grin on his face. "Good to see you again, too."

Ghost holstered his weapon and snorted. "Glad to see you deliver."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to wrangle up such a thing so fast? Not to mention load it and bring it over?"

"No."

"It wasn't easy." Ryan spun on his heel and walked the few steps to where he backed up his truck near the garage door. "Now, are you going to help me unload this or just stand there and gawk?"

Ghost would have bristled if he didn't know Ryan yanked his chain. They spent some time together in Paris chasing down and eliminating a powerful head of a drug cartel who had marked the Wind Warriors for a brutal death by hired assassins. Ryan gave as good as he got and couldn't help but give his friends a hard time. That was just his personality.

Ryan climbed up in the truck, waited for Ghost to grab the front end, then together they scooted the heavy machine forward. Jumping down, Ryan once again took his load, then they carried the already constructed piece of exercise equipment through the front door and straight to the living room.

Ryan sniffed loudly. "Man, you weren't lying about the bleach."

"As if." Ghost watched as Josie ambled over to Ryan, a wide smile on her face.

"A treadmill? For me?" Her face blossomed with excitement.

"Yep. Just for you." Ryan grinned down at her from his much taller height, then winked at Ghost.

"Thank you." She ran her fingers over the bars, then looked up at Ghost. "Thank you." Her sincere words carried truth and humble relief.

He inclined his head in return.

With a beaming smile that could outshine the sun, she hugged Ryan, darted over to hug Ghost, then dashed down the hall to the bedroom. "I have the perfect thing!"

Startled by the impromptu sign of affection, Ghost watched her go before turning his attention back to the former Ranger. Ryan smirked and arched his eyebrow in a non-verbal inquiry, which Ghost refused to entertain.

"I think they were meant to be sleepwear, but it works just fine for running." Almost as quickly as she left, she reappeared, sans her winter clothing. Short, loose pink shorts flattered her perky rear while allowing full view of long, toned legs. A matching lightweight, cropped T-shirt left her flat, muscular stomach bare as well as her arms. The material rested lightly over small breasts, molding just enough to give a decent picture of their shape and size. With her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked the part of a serious runner.

If Ghost had any doubt about her biathlon and competitive athlete claims, he brushed them to the wayside. Any woman in the same physical condition as Josie certainly made exercise and health a priority in her life.

"Damn." Ryan stared at her with wide-eyed appreciation.

Josie blushed prettily before jumping on the machine and checking out the buttons.

A tiny flicker of annoyance prodded Ghost into action. "You have two lovers already."

"True. Doesn't make me blind, though." Ryan shared a look with Ghost before staring at Josie once more.

"Ryan?" She looked up from her new toy.

"Yeah?"

"How are my parents doing?"

The corner of his lips hitched up. "Just fine. We're watching them closely. So far nothing out of the ordinary. Your father said not to worry, though. He has a whole arsenal at his disposal."

She smiled wide enough to show teeth. "Sounds like my father. When can I speak to them again?"

"After we've caught the bad guys. I prefer not to risk one of them stumbling across a phone call, even with a secure line."

Josie nodded. "Understood. Please tell them I love them and am doing fine."

"I'll second that." Ryan whispered under his breath and raked her once more with his gaze.

Barely resisting rolling his eyes, Ghost crowded Ryan toward the door. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"

Ryan stopped just short of the threshold and turned to meet Ghost's gaze. "We're backtracking feelers right now. It's going to take a while, but we've got solid leads."

"The sooner, the better."

"Yeah, I imagine it's pretty rough hanging out with a cleaning freak who looks like that." Ryan grinned wickedly.

Ghost shoved him hard. "Go away."

With one final glance, Ryan saluted, strode to his truck, climbed in, and drove away.

By the time Ghost locked the door and turned around, Josie had plugged in the treadmill, slipped her tennis shoes on, started the machine, and began trotting along at a decent pace. Her clothing molded to her curves like a second skin.

He watched for another minute before pulling his attention back to the task at hand. Protecting Josie. Luckily, with the introduction of the exercise machine, he wouldn't die from bleach overdose or have to throttle a hyper little blonde with way too much energy. He'd thank Ryan later. In the meantime, he needed to check all avenues of entrance before nightfall.

* * * *

Josie sucked in great gulps of air, embracing the familiar burn of her lungs struggling to keep up with her body's demands as she pushed the pace to a sprint for the final mile. Her legs churned, and her skin glistened from perspiration. Even her sweat-soaked blonde hair stuck to her head, the parts that didn't sway with each stride in a long ponytail. Pressing the button to slow down, she gradually moved from a full out run to a stroll until finally stopping.

Ghost handed her a towel.

"Thanks." She took the soft cloth and wiped her face, still trying to catch her breath. Tired yet rejuvenated, she felt less jittery and more relaxed than she had since stepping foot in Ryan's office two days ago. Glancing at the clock, she noticed a little over an hour had gone by. "Wow. I guess I needed that."

"How far did you run?"

She glanced down at the display on the machine. "A bit over ten miles." Surprised, she smiled to herself. More than her typical workout, but short of her personal record. Over the years, she'd run a couple of half marathons, but much preferred to focus on the skiing biathlon whenever possible.

"Feel better?"

"You have no idea."

He nodded. "Good. No more bleach. You feel the urge to clean, run instead."

The corners of her mouth curled up. "Yes, sir." Delighted with the gift, even Ghost's stern order couldn't dampen her happiness. With a bodyguard like him and an exercise outlet, she'd make it through this tension-riddled chaos after all.

She stepped off the machine, still patting at her dripping forehead. "I think another shower is in order. When I'm done, I'll fix something for lunch. Any preferences?"

"No."

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Let me guess. If you don't have to kill it, you'll eat it."

A flash sparked in his eyes so quickly she decided she had just been seeing things. "Something like that."

Halfway to the bathroom, she paused and turned back. "I don't know if I've said this before, but thank you. I get the impression this wasn't your first choice of assignment. I'm sorry that I dragged you into this mess, but I'm not sorry you're with me. I think"—she bit her lip—"I know I've got the best there is. If there's anyone that can get me through this in one piece, it's you." With one more glance, she headed toward the bathroom and a much needed shower.

* * * *

Thunder rumbled as light rain pelted the windows. After a downpour, which lasted only a few minutes, the sky quickly lightened in color as the storm sped to the south.

Josie glanced out the kitchen window once more before returning to the dining room table with her refilled glass of water. Her plateful of food had barely been touched so far, even though Ghost had plowed halfway through his meal.

Ghost glanced at her plate, then up to her. "This enchilada is good. Why aren't you eating yours?" Forking another bite, he shoved more food in his mouth.

She shrugged. "Not really hungry, I guess." Running helped earlier, but her nerves began to prickle once more with the storm. Weather didn't bother her. Not normally. However, considering all the other stressors she faced, she wasn't surprised the more intense lightning strikes earlier set her to jumping.

For a long moment, she watched Ghost eat, pride washed over her as he ate with gusto and obvious enjoyment. For some reason, the fact she pleased him with her cooking abilities lifted her downtrodden spirits.

"There's cake for dessert."

He shook his head and shoveled in the last mouthful. "I'm full." Laying his fork across the empty plate, he picked up his glass and took a long drink of water. "Maybe later, though."

Josie nodded and took the opportunity to study him. He resembled a well-built athlete, an extraordinary man who would set women's hearts to fluttering in his presence and not for his chosen career. Whatever she envisioned an assassin to look like, Ghost didn't fit the mold.

How in the world did I get to this moment in time?
Sitting across a small dining room table, across from a hired bodyguard whose primary source of income included killing select people, and waiting in the safe house for thugs to either be rounded up or storm her supposedly mostly safe castle. Talk about twists and turns on a convoluted path. Never in her wildest dreams could she have envisioned this scenario. Probably didn't want to, either.

"How does one become an assassin? Is there a school?" She voiced the question off the top of her head, figuring he'd decline to answer.

He stared at her a long moment, took another drink, then set the glass down.

Silence reigned.

So much for conversation along those lines. She changed tactics and tried again. "Do you have a favorite movie? TV show? How about music?"

"No time."

Flabbergasted, she threw up her arms. "What do you do for fun?"

"Kill people." Deadpan.

Her mouth fell open before she collected herself to close it again. Tilting her head, she appraised the man across from her, searching for signs of teasing or amusement. She found none.

"Geez. With hundreds of hobbies out there, you choose assassinating people to be yours?"

His pale blue eyes sparked for a brief moment. "Yep."

Josie shook her head. "Remind me again why I'm here with you." Before he could answer, she rambled on. "Oh, yeah. I stupidly emailed people pictures of priceless jewelry. Now I remember." She picked up her glass and took a long drink.

She'd almost bet he yanked her chain, but something about his expression told her he spoke the absolute truth. Well, the truth whittled down to the very basics. He didn't appear to be someone who just murdered indiscriminately. No. The FBI would be after him instead of calling in favors if that were the case. That led her to believe that he worked at high security levels, targeting specific masterminds of evil, who needed to be exterminated before they could spread their poisonous power any further. Think Hitler. If Ghost had been around at that time perhaps he'd have gone after the German ruler himself.