Ghost Redeemed

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Ghost Redeemed ISBN # 1-4199-0590-2 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Ghost Redeemed Copyright© 2006 Mary Winter Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower. Cover art by Willo. Electronic book Publication: March 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated S-ensuous by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

GHOST REDEEMED Mary Winter

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Armani: GA Modefine S.A. Audi: Audi A.G. BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Dockers: Levi Strauss and Co. Girl Scout: Girl Scouts of the United States of America Glock: Glock, Inc. Lex Luthor: DC Comics Lincoln Navigator: Ford Motor Company McDonald’s: McDonald’s Corporation Mack: Mack Trucks, Inc. Mercedes: Daimler Chrysler AG Corporation Old Spice: Shulton, Inc. SAAB: Saab Automobile AB 7-Up: Seven-Up Company, The Starbucks: Starbucks U.S. Brands Superman: DC Comics Toyota Corolla: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha TA Toyota Motor Corporation

Ghost Redeemed

Prologue

Six years ago Drizzle collected on the collar of Kyle Denison’s coat. Icy fingers of water slid down his back, no less chill than the trepidation filling him. Somewhere in the inky blackness people watched him. Most definitely Sage Kaimoon, for his former partner wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by. Perhaps others, most likely an entire SWAT team, waited for the signal. If he hadn’t been chilled by the rain, then his fear would have done so. So much rested on this transaction. “Do you have the money?” he asked the Frenchman standing across from him. Lu-Marc hated America and everything for which it stood. The secrets contained in the envelope, while mostly harmless, would appease him and give Kyle enough money to take Marcy far away from here. Kyle wiped rain from his brow and resisted the urge to look around. Lu-Marc grinned and patted his silver briefcase. “Do you have the documents? I have waited a long time for this information.” In contrast to Kyle’s worry, Lu-Marc stood as cool as an arctic glacier. He paid no attention to the weather or the surroundings. Kyle frowned. He supposed Lu-Marc stood on drizzly docks and bought information all the time. Kyle wanted this done and over with. A night like this made him think of being back in his warm bed, Marcy’s willing body curled beside his. “I want my money before you get the documents.” He’d be damned if Lu-Marc would take the secrets and flee. Lu-Marc chuckled. “As you wish.” He handed over the suitcase. No sooner had Kyle closed his fingers around the heavy handle than his instincts went on alert. He hefted the weight of the suitcase, wishing he could shove his own briefcase into Lu-Marc’s waiting hands and run. The hair on the back of his neck rose. A sting, and he’d walked right into it. Kyle opened his briefcase and handed over a thick envelope. He tried to smile, wished he could be happier. “Special Agent Kaimoon. Get those hands up!” Sage yelled as he pivoted into the clearing. Kyle stared down the barrel of Sage’s Glock 9mm. He reached into his coat, determined not to die. He didn’t want to shoot Sage, not his partner, his best friend. Gunfire echoed around him. Instinct took over. Kyle pointed and fired. Pain tore through his chest. He gasped, doubling over in pain. He rose, staggering. On his chest, a red stain blossomed. Blood

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sprayed everywhere. He opened his mouth. The need to deny his wound, to claim he wouldn’t die, pounded through him. He gaped like a fish then fell. Kyle squeezed his eyes closed, the concrete rising to meet him. He slammed into the damp, unyielding surface. Air whooshed from his lungs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lu-Marc fall, then Sage. Pain flared, then died. His body vibrated then twanged, like a kid plunking strings on a guitar. When he opened his eyes, he looked down at his body. I’m dead. Shock rendered him immobile. Medics looked at his body, checked his pulse, then shook their heads and walked away. They clustered around Sage, unwilling to let him get away. Kyle bit his lip, grief pulling tears from his face. He’d never see Marcy again, never touch her. He’d screwed up, and done so in spades. “I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to go bad. I only wanted to give Marcy everything she wanted.” He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. “Now I never will.” He swallowed hard and tried to reconcile himself with the fact that he’d fucked up. A figure walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Kyle looked at the very last man he expected to see. “Sage! What are you doing here? You killed me!” He yanked away, not wanting to share his shame with anyone. Sage looked down at him, a look of sorrow on his face. With a shrug, he turned and walked away. Kyle watched him leave, his heart heavy in his chest. He’d planned, schemed, done it all for a life he’d never have. Kyle rose to his feet. He’d lived and died as a criminal. Watching Lu-Marc race across the docks, he knew what he had to do.

***** Nearly two years ago Love does strange things to a man. Watching Sage with Teri, Kyle hated his job. After he died, he thought working for Lu-Marc would be what he should do. It was how he died, and he expected his afterlife to follow his life. After all, he lost his life working for him. Spending his afterlife working for the traitor was better than simply not existing. Immediately after his death he doubted the good guys would have wanted him on his side. And now, if he had to go out, he’d do it right. He hurried down the hall. He refused to protect his boss, but he could help Teri and Sage get away. They deserved a life together, happiness, the kind of happiness he’d never be able to find ever again. Kyle rounded the corner. Gunshots echoed, and once more pain blasted through his chest. Damn it! He staggered back, eyes dropping to the gunshot wound on his chest.

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Not again! He cupped his hands over it and knew he’d failed. Beside him, his partner struggled to keep his balance, balanced precariously as he was on the edge of the stairs. Kyle stumbled backwards. His foot flailed, seeking purchase on the stairs. He met only empty air. Stepping backwards, Kyle fell down the stairs. He tumbled, feet over head, the impact forcing pain through his body. Above him he heard the sounds of a scuffle and knew, whatever happened, his part had ended. Kyle lay sprawled at the foot of the stairs. He’d failed. Killed in life, his afterlife ended. His one regret—not finding the love Sage seemed to have found.

***** Present day Silence filled the old warehouse. Sprawled at the base of the steps, he lay. Blood spilled from a fresh bullet wound to the right of an older wound. The button-down, light blue, short-sleeved shirt, the exact shade as his eyes, looked better suited to a business meeting than a murder. Only it hadn’t been murder, but self-defense. The body had no company, though dimpled walls bespoke of a gun battle that had filled the hallway with ricocheting bullets. Water dripped from a stained ceiling tile down the hall, a steady drop, drop to invade the silence. Not even a rat coursed through these halls, nor would any want to. The place held a taint of evil. The smell of scorched flesh hung in the air. The body jerked. Had it needed air it might have gasped. Instead, the muscles convulsed at once, bowing his back off the cold, chipped linoleum floor. Eyes flew open. “Oh, God,” the man groaned. He lifted a shaky finger to touch the sticky bullet wound. Memories came rushing back. He struggled to a seated position and realized he didn’t know who he was. He frowned and leaned against the wall. Lifting his hand, he stared at it, noticing the translucent quality to his fingers. His entire body glowed with some kind of unearthly light. “What the hell?” He looked around, fumbling as he realized he fell through the wall. Suddenly, he knew who he was, what he was. Sage had killed him—twice. The second time two years ago in this very building. Kyle wobbled to his feet as more memories came back. He swallowed hard and stared at the empty walls. Someone had brought him back. He knew it, deep in his soul where hunches and intuition lived, he knew someone had brought him back from the dead. After his spirit died he’d ceased to exist. Remembered nothing until this moment. “Why? I was dead, gone. Why not let me rest in peace?” He didn’t fear being heard, though he knew this building once crawled with Lu-Marc’s operatives. They were all dead now, or gone at any rate. He heard nothing, and had anyone been around, he

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doubted they would have left his rotting corpse in the hallway, except ghosts didn’t leave corpses. “Why didn’t you just let me die?” “Do you want to?” The question hung in the air, spoken by a feminine, ethereal voice. Kyle whirled around. He saw nothing. He never used to believe in God, or in heaven and hell. But then, after seeing Teri and Sage he wanted what they had. He wanted a second chance. “I don’t want to die.” He didn’t, not that much anyway. No, he wanted to go back to Marcy, to make things right. To explain. If he could, dear God, he just wanted to explain why he did the things he did and make them right. “Goddess. Whoever you are, I promise. If you let me live, even as a ghost, I’ll make things right with Marcy. I hurt her, and I’m sorry for that, but I won’t hurt her a second time. I know I fucked up. I know I deserve to die, but if you give me this chance, I won’t mess up anymore. I promise.” “Why should we give such a gift to you?” He saw them, the spectral form of three women hovering at the end of the hallway. A young woman spun out yarn then handed it to an older woman to weave into a loom. A much older woman snipped threads with a pair of scissors. All three seemed to be speaking in unison. The Fates? The Muses? Hell, he didn’t know. They didn’t teach mythology at Quantico. Whoever they were, he didn’t want to insult them. “I don’t know,” Kyle said at last. “I sure as hell probably don’t deserve it. But I’m here, and you’re here, and I want to make things right. Just let me go back to Marcy and explain. I don’t know what kind of life we could have together. I’m a ghost and all. But I could explain. And if she’s happy with that other man, I’ll let her be happy. But if she’s not, or she’s alone, then I want to be the one for her. I want to love her until death do us part, forever and ever, in this life and in the next. I want us to be the way we were.” “You can’t go back to what you once were.” The eldest woman snipped off another thread, a short one, and knotted it into the tapestry. “I know that. And things have happened. Sage, he’s…” Kyle gestured, at a loss for words to explain how Sage found Teri, and love, even though he was a ghost. He growled, frustrated with trying to wrap his mind around concepts he had no inkling of when he was alive. “Sage has Teri,” he said at last. “It can happen. I know it can.” The last he’d seen of his friend and former partner, Sage still lived as much as any ghost could. Kyle hoped Sage killed Lu-Marc. He hoped his former partner made it out of there, away from all this. “The boy loves.” The young woman handed a skein of thread to the middle woman. “The boy speaks truly,” she said as she wove the thread into the tapestry. “Please,” Kyle begged. He’d never begged for anything before in his life, except for maybe release at Marcy’s hands, or lips, or tongue. He groaned and fought to keep his mind on track. “Please, if you have the power to bring me back, then do so. For my sake.” He shook his head. “For Marcy’s sake.”

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The older woman shook her head. “Laws cannot be bent at your will, young man.” She studied her tapestry and grinned sadly. “But in light of everything, if it is life you seek, then it is life you shall have.” “Would you return him to what he now has? What he has lost?” the middle woman spoke, shaking her head at the threads in her lap. “He wants to go back to the past, but it’s changed. It all has changed.” “Would you deny him love?” the younger woman spoke. “It would be cruel to deny him love.” Kyle’s heart leapt. The way the women spoke it sounded as if he couldn’t go back to Marcy. But the younger Fate’s words filled him with hope. He refused to beg. He’d done that once and wouldn’t do it again. His spectral body faded, waving in and out like a dying television set. Is this the end? He stared at the two women. “Am I dying?” “You’re already dead.” The chill in the older woman’s voice startled him. “You should know that for you saw your own grave. You don’t deserve a second chance at life. Your actions speak louder than your words.” Her harsh words cut him, reminded him of his failures. He knew, deep in his heart, that he’d done some horrible things. He could atone. Dimly he remembered Sunday school as a child, learning about forgiveness and love. If he had a chance, Kyle knew he could right his wrongs. “The boy is noble. Should we not let him see what he can do with this second chance?” The younger woman handed over another string, a long one, and the middle woman smiled as she wove it into her tapestry. “After all, there have been others. It has happened.” “But just because it’s happened doesn’t mean it needs to happen again, and certainly not for the likes of him.” The eldest frowned. “Wait! How can you say such things? I know I’ve done wrong. I won’t deny my past. Hell, it got me into this situation, but I’m telling you, I’m not Lu-Marc’s man anymore. All I want is to go back to Marcy and try to make things right. No illegal activities. I learned my lesson. Rich or poor, I’ll take her, and we’ll make it work somehow.” Memories of Saturdays spent searching for homes flashed through his mind. If it meant going back to her tiny one-bedroom apartment, he didn’t care. He’d live in a cardboard box by the river if it meant staying with Marcy. He sighed. “You ladies are the Fates, right? You’re goddesses. You have the power to cut a man’s life short and extend it if you wish. For me. For what should have happened and didn’t, you can make the exception. You can keep me from fading away.” As he spoke, power ebbed from him. He didn’t know how much longer he had, certainly not as long as he would have liked. “All is preordained.” The middle woman wove in another strand. “Each strand measured before its birth. But it is true, under extraordinary circumstances we can weave another strand, strengthening the whole. Long life is nothing, though, without deeds.”

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Kyle dropped to one knee, hands clasped before him. “If it’s deeds you want, then deeds you will have.” “Can you prevent another strand from being cut?” The younger woman studied a part of the tapestries where knots and strands tangled. “Even if you knew it was too late for another?” Kyle frowned. Too late for whom, he wondered. Marcy? It couldn’t be. To return to a world knowing she wasn’t in it would be pure torture. “Yes,” he spoke, knowing if he were right, he’d be condemning himself to days of loneliness and struggle. “If I can save a life, I will. I’ve taken far too many.” “The boy speaks truly.” The eldest woman reached into the air and pulled out a gossamer filament. It shone with promise and hope. Slowly, she handed it to the middle woman who wove it into the tapestry, starting at a knot and the hole it left. With deft fingers, she created a pattern, and as Kyle watched, strength returned to him. Light flashed. Kyle stood alone. He blinked his eyes and stared at his still translucent skin. Well, damn, he was still a ghost. “You didn’t think we’d make it easy for you, did you?” The feminine voices chuckled, then faded away. “Well, I didn’t expect to still be dead, but thank you.” With those grudging words, he turned and walked out of the building. Kyle stepped into sunlight. He blinked at the bright light, realizing it’d been a while since he’d been out in the daylight. The decrepit buildings tumbling down around him held an air of abandonment. Whatever operations had happened here, no longer did. The docks, heavy cargo containers long emptied, sat abandoned. Buildings crumbled, and not even gang graffiti decorated the tumbling-down walls. Kyle ran, anxious to be as far away from that place as possible. I died here twice. I don’t want to risk a third time. He slipped into an easy jog, then a run, using his ghostly senses to speed him far past mortal endurance. The world blurred around him, and one thought filled his mind. Focusing on it like a lifeline, he let thoughts of his lover, his girlfriend, pull him home. Marcy.

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Chapter One Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Shay closed her eyes as she peeled tape from the old box. Scrawled writing on the side said simply “Marcy’s things”, though the simple words couldn’t accurately convey the contents. Shay closed her eyes and smoothed damp palms on the denim skirt she wore. Opening her eyes, she glanced at her bare feet peeking from beneath the hem. For a moment, she wiggled her toes, admiring the tiny flowers painted on each toenail. She needed give herself a moment to prepare, and drawing a deep breath, she imagined her spine lengthening, turning into roots to sink into the ground below her. She stretched, lengthening her spine until it stood like the trunk of a tree. With each inhalation, she imagined calm, and each exhalation removed tension from her body. Six months since her best friend had died. Shay wondered if it should still be so painful to think of her. Unshed tears stung her eyes. She opened the box, peeling back the cardboard flaps as if they might reveal the greatest treasure, instead of a jumble of picture frames and journals. An orange crocheted doily lay beneath a flowery picture frame containing a picture of the two best friends. Simple items, but everything she had left of Marcy’s, a combination of Shay’s own keepsakes and Marcy’s belongings. Shay lifted the frame from the box. The picture had been taken at the farmer’s market on a bright, spring day. Marcy, happy for the first time since they met, had an arm around Shay’s waist. Her friend beamed, happiness radiating from her. She’d just told Shay about her new boyfriend, Roger. “I’m finally getting to live again,” Marcy had told her as they sat down at a corner café for a bite of cheesecake. “Only you didn’t know he’d be the death of you, did you?” Shay asked the picture. She contemplated Roger, the charming, debonair man Marcy had taken into her life and heart. He seemed too good to be true, and deep inside Shay had known he was trouble. Every time she tried to talk to Marcy, her friend never listened. Shay breathed deeply and wished her friend had listened. The wheel of life turned in its own time, though, and Shay knew nothing she could have done would have changed that simple fact. Unconsciously, she reached up and caressed the pewter pendant of a goddess figure hanging around her neck. She knew lives were measured before birth, and only the Fates knew when the strand would be cut. She shook her head and reached for the orange doily beneath the picture. The yarn smelled dusty from being in a box for so many months. Shay picked it up and rubbed the material against her cheek. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and dampened the material. She laid the doily down, made in an evening adult education class the two of them had taken for fun, and reached for a small bundle of letters.

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The letters called to her. Shay stared at the England address, thinking of the time she’d spent there coming to terms with her gift. Marcy had been so supporting, so loving, never giving hints of the apparent turmoil just beneath the surface. Almost four years ago, Marcy had walked into the new age store where Shay spent most of her time. She’d been sad, her sorrow like an aura around her. Marcy appeared to be searching for something, though for what Shay never knew. She’d said little about her past, only that there was a man, and she had loved him, but now he was gone. And then, like a blossoming flower, Marcy grew and emerged from her shell. Her sorrow gave way to a zest for life. The farmer’s market picture showed a vibrant, happy Marcy. Shay recognized the date on the letter as well into Marcy and Roger’s relationship. Being careful with the paper, Shay pulled the first letter from its envelope and began to read the words of a friend she’d never see again, a friend who died too soon. Shay-girl, How’s it going? Any handsome men with accents to drool over sweep you off your feet yet? You lucky chick. You know how much I love English accents. Roger’s working on a deal. He says when it comes through I can come and see you. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I’ve never been out of the country before—how exciting it must be for you over there. I know, I know, you said you had to get away, to spend some time with yourself, and I understand that. Boy, do I understand. As much as I hated Kyle not working a nine-to-five job, Roger’s hours scare me worse. At least with Kyle I knew the danger in his job. He was an FBI agent. (Should I even be saying this in a letter going overseas?) But Roger, I don’t know. He keeps odd hours, even odder than Kyle used to, and I don’t like the way he’s talking. Maybe it’s my own silliness. I have nothing to worry about, right? He’s an investment banker. They have meetings and such, but I guess I thought bank meant regular hours. Roger won’t talk about work. He says he doesn’t want to, but I think it’s something more. Maybe I need some time to myself to figure out what I really want. How about I hop a plane and come over and see you? That’d be great, wouldn’t it? Love and toodles (or whatever they say in England), Marcy Shay stared at the letter. She’d called the same night she received it, not liking the tone in Marcy’s words and hating that she’d been an ocean away. Marcy insisted she’d been all right, then three months after Shay had returned to the U.S., Marcy had committed suicide. Shay exhaled and stared at the ceiling. “Oh Marcy, why couldn’t you tell me what bothered you? We could have worked through it together.” She received no answers, not that she expected any. Shay set the letters down beside her, not quite ready to go through them just yet. Instead, she pulled out pictures, some framed and some loose. Looking at them, she remembered the good times she’d spent with her friend. The stories. The laughter. It all came back and brought a smile to

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her face. “You may be gone, my friend, but your memories live on.” Stretching out her legs before her, Shay hauled the box closer. She dug through it, finding mementoes of the happier times. She vowed to remember Marcy forever, and if her best friend hadn’t committed suicide, then she vowed to find out who had killed her and make them pay. Although Marcy had only been her friend for a short time, Shay felt as though she’d lost the sister she never had. Shay had no idea how she’d follow through on her promise, but she had no doubt, she’d follow through. With the Goddess as her witness, she’d follow through.

***** Being a ghost had its advantages. Sneaking into the DMV after hours and pulling up Marcy’s address was one of them. He could have grabbed more information, searched deeper, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to see Marcy again, wanted to believe they might have a chance. He found the address, and as he stopped at the curb, he saw the larger home in a well-off neighborhood as something he could never have given her. Not without making his fatal decision, anyway. The newer-model home boasted two floors. The beige siding and white trim looked nondescript, blending in with the other homes in the neighborhood. The yard, freshly watered, looked as if it were sod, and a single, young maple tree grew in the front yard. Bushes sat against the foundation in a tasteful, yet pedestrian, landscape setting. The home looked as if it came from an open house ad. Two cars sat in the open garage. The sight of the vehicles punched him in the gut. He didn’t know what to expect coming back here six years after his death. A silver Audi, looking like nothing Marcy would drive, sat in the garage. A lump formed in his throat. Kyle shook his head and forced his emotions at bay. Let me just see. If she’s happy, if she has a home, then I’ll go away. The Fates’ words echoed in his memory, and he wondered if they referred to this when they mentioned it might be too late. Maybe Marcy had found her happiness. If she had, then damn it, he was happy for her, even if it ripped a hole in his soul. But if she hadn’t, if that bastard made her life miserable, then he’d fix it. His thoughts propelled him up the driveway past the two damning cars, and along a sidewalk to the front stoop. He paused there, heart hammering with the realization Marcy stood on the other side. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and stepped through the door. He tasted metal, felt the strands of steel in the door tug at him, impeding his progress. Forcing his will, he emerged on the other side of the door and opened his eyes. He glanced around, from the tiny table in the foyer with a silk flower arrangement to the eggshell Berber carpet leading into a sunken living room. It was too nice. Too polished to be Marcy’s home. Kyle turned to leave.

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A man stepped down the hall wearing a pair of Dockers and a golf shirt. The whole ensemble screamed staid-banker down to the golf gloves the man held loosely in his hand. Kyle stared incredulously at the man as he talked into a slim cell phone. He didn’t look like Marcy’s type and wondered if Marcy really had lived here. “Delivery will be on time. You have nothing to worry about. Yes, I’m sorry Marcy isn’t here either. She would have enjoyed the fundraiser at the botanical center.” The man spoke in an assured voice with a smooth cadence. A jolt of protectiveness shot through him. Marcy’s mine, you bastard. He couldn’t imagine this banker touching her, making love to her. Would his broad hands cup Marcy’s breasts, slide a caress over her hip? Kyle shuddered at the thought of this consummate salesman making love to his woman. The agent part of him wondered what kind of delivery, and then he dismissed it. Surely Marcy wouldn’t get mixed up with someone on the wrong side of the law? Kyle stepped to the side as the man turned toward the door. Pressing against the wall, he hoped this stranger couldn’t see him. Most couldn’t, he knew, but he didn’t want to take a chance. The man walked past without noticing, humming a tune under his breath. Kyle shuddered to think the wild woman he knew would be attracted to someone so suburban. His stomach turned, and he wondered what he would have to offer Marcy. Once the man left, Kyle ran upstairs. He ran into the master bedroom and stopped. No signs of Marcy were anywhere. A nightstand beside the king-sized bed stood empty, not even an alarm clock gracing its surface. In the closet, Kyle found no women’s clothing. He ran to the bathroom. In her apartment, Marcy had scattered her cosmetics and perfume all over the counter, but he found only a man’s shaving kit and none of the fruity or flowery bath washes Marcy had liked. A knot of dread formed in his stomach. He thought of Marcy alone, out in the world somewhere without a friend, and his heart ached. He found a study and pulled open the drawers. A small newspaper clipping with Marcy’s picture caught his attention. An obituary. Kyle sank to the floor still clutching the tiny scrap of paper. “She died in her home from an apparent suicide,” Kyle read aloud. His hand shook. His voice wavered, and he swallowed against a stinging rush of tears. Suicide. His Marcy had committed suicide. “No,” he growled. “Marcy wouldn’t do that.” He stared at her smiling picture, noticing the cut of her hair, the hollowness of her cheeks. “Would she?” He read the rest of the obituary and noted she’d been buried in her family plot. “Can you prevent another strand from being cut? Even if you knew it was too late for another?” The Fate’s worlds echoed in his mind. Even if you knew it was too late for another. Kyle fought past the lump in his throat. Too late for Marcy. “No!” He punched his fist into the floor. He started to close his hand around the newspaper clipping, then stopped, smoothing out the wrinkles. He placed it back in the

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desk drawer and raced from the house, running through the front door. Marcy was dead. She couldn’t be. She was. Conflicting thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to battle what he knew was true. He ran to the cemetery knowing he wouldn’t believe it until he saw her tombstone. Just inside the wrought iron gates, Kyle stopped. He glanced to his left at the playground visible just past a row of pine trees. Life and death so close together. He wondered if the city planners had deliberately juxtaposed the two. He looked over the seemingly endless sea of marble headstones, some large, listing many members of a family, to flat stones pressed against the ground. Flowers dotted grave markers. Kyle looked at them and wondered for a moment if any flowers ever decorated his grave. He shook his head. Probably not. The only ones left to care would have been Marcy, and the guys at the agency, and they certainly wouldn’t have cared, not after he turned traitor on them all. He walked solemnly through the cemetery noticing several other spirits, as well as visitors to the graves. One young girl, maybe ten, leaned against a grave marker and cried for her parents. A few graves away a grungy-looking man yelled at the gravestone of his wife, but he was a spirit and heard only by other spirits. Others wandered lost, and Kyle wondered how long it would be before they ended up wherever they needed to go. Kyle steeled his emotions as he walked closer to Marcy’s family plot. Her parents were buried in this cemetery, along with a couple of other relatives. He never thought he’d be visiting her as well. He stopped beside the large, upright stone marking her parents’ graves. Someone had placed plastic flowers there, the colors faded by sun and weather. Next to the larger stone a smaller one sat flat against the ground. A potted plant sat half in the ground, half out, though the flowers had long fallen from the green, leafy stems. Kyle knelt. He laid his hand flat against the stone, tracing his finger over an inscription he had never wanted to read. Marcy’s name along with her birth and death dates stood out in bas-relief against the plain headstone. Kyle rocked back on his heels. What day was today? He hadn’t needed to know, only thought about seeing Marcy. But now he needed to know how many days, weeks, months, had she been dead. Months, he felt certain, remembering the pristine house. She’d been dead for months. He stared at the simple, unadorned gravestone then pressed his palm flat against the ground. Stiff stems of grass slid through his fingers, and he wished he could reach through dirt and wood to the body beyond. Just to hold her one more time. To tell her he loved her. Kyle pressed his eyes closed. Tears streamed down his face. He swallowed hard, raising his fist to his mouth and pressing it against his lips to keep from keening his grief aloud. Why? Why did she take her life? He refused to believe that Marcy, his Marcy, had killed herself. She loved life, embraced it. What could have happened to her to cause her to make such a horrible decision?

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He didn’t know. So much had probably happened in her life since he’d died, too much to ever be known. Presumably she’d fallen in love again, after all, why else would she have listed her address with that banker. He couldn’t believe the man had moved in afterwards, not with Marcy’s obituary in his desk drawer. Then again, Marcy probably didn’t believe he’d turn traitor. Kyle wondered if he really knew Marcy. No! He refused to think that way. If Marcy committed suicide then something, or someone, pushed her to it. She wouldn’t willingly take her own life. Never! “I have to find out who did it.” He spoke aloud, not caring if the other spirits in the graveyard heard him. Surely none of the visitors, unless they had the gift of knowing the spirit realm, would see or hear him. “Whoever did this will pay. I’ll make him pay so much he’ll wish he’d never even met Marcy, never thought about harming her.” Kyle pressed his forehead to the cool stone marking the dates of her life. “I’m so sorry, Marcy. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I made mistakes. Horrible mistakes that I’ll never do again. If anything I did cost you your life, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.” He squeezed his eyes closed and let his tears slide from his cheeks to pool on the stone. After long moments, Kyle rose to his feet. He stared down at the grave, now with grass growing over it, and knew in a few months it would look as if it’d always been there. Only he knew he wasn’t good enough to reach heaven, not with everything he’d done, and he knew Marcy wouldn’t end up in hell. He half suspected he’d return to the void from which he came, and then where would that leave him? Back to square one. Kyle shook his head. Deep inside, he knew it wouldn’t happen, at least not that way. He remembered the sulfur smell when some of Lu-Marc’s henchmen had died. Something told Kyle that wasn’t a good sign. He wondered if he found Marcy’s killer if maybe he’d earn a reward, be sent to some afterlife. Kyle started to turn from the grave, unable to look at it any longer. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that’s what he had to do. Find Marcy’s killer, and then he could move on. He looked around at the spirits just as lost as he. An old man with a top hat and a cane muttered to himself about those girls in London being strangled. If he noticed the change in continent or in years, the spirit gave no notice. A shiver ran down Kyle’s spine. He turned back to Marcy’s grave and stood over it, hands clasped before him, as solemn as if he attended a funeral. “I make this vow to you, I will find out who killed you. May God strike me down forever if I don’t avenge your death.” He spoke quietly, solemnly as he made his vow. Nothing could stop him from completing his mission and moving on to the next life. As he stepped away from the grave, all thoughts of finding love fled, and now, he only wanted release.

*****

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Shay hated visiting the cemetery. Not only did she come face-to-face with her own mortality but with her gift—it made it an experience in avoidance. Shay sat in her car, hands clenched around the steering wheel. Closing her eyes, she imagined a shield of white light surrounding her. Nothing could penetrate the shield except love. She breathed deeply, inhaling and exhaling several times until she felt the shield pulsing around her. Satisfied she could step onto the cemetery grounds without being accosted, Shay opened the door and rose to her feet. She paused beside her car to survey the grounds. Cheerful flowers decorated most of the graves. Taking in the sun shining overhead in a nearly cloudless blue sky and the sight of blooming flowers buoyed her spirits for a visit to her friend. Shay walked to the grave, her long strides carrying her down well-worn paths, safe behind her shields, ignored by the few transitive spirits she saw. None reached for her today, filling Shay with relief. She wanted to visit with her friend without being plagued by wayward spirits. A man sat at the base of a large oak tree not far from Marcy’s grave. She recognized him as a spirit, and the twin bullet holes in his chest testified to how he’d died. Grief radiated from him. He looked up, seeming to stare at Marcy’s headstone, and Shay saw the tear tracks on his upturned face. He ruffled the grass with his long, slender fingers. Handsome didn’t describe the man. Tousled blond hair fell over his forehead in shaggy waves. At this distance, she couldn’t see his eyes, but she didn’t have to, because he looked up and saw her. His gaze bored into her, sweeping her from head to toe. With his eyes, he caressed her, pausing at the curve of her breast and her hip. Her cheeks warmed. He wore worn jeans tight enough to show off his muscular physique and the two bullet holes didn’t detract from the baby blue, button-down shirt he wore. She wondered if the shirt matched his eyes. He took her breath away. Shay tried not to stare at the ghost. Something pulled her gaze to him, and finally she forced herself to look away, anywhere, and walked toward Marcy’s grave. The man dropped his gaze to the ground. She wanted to comfort him. The tense set of his shoulders, the defeated posture, only made her want to find out what caused his sadness. Was it because he was dead? Did someone he loved lie in the cemetery? She glanced at the neighboring graves, but most of them were decades old. Marcy? Shay shook her head. Surely if Marcy had known a man as handsome as him she would have said something. She’d said little about her past, though they shared everything. Shay never pressed. She’d figured Marcy would say something when she was ready. Shay paused next to Marcy’s grave. Ignoring the damp grass, she knelt. Moisture seeped through her jeans. Shay stared at the austere head marker, all she could afford after funeral expenses. Marcy hadn’t had much, which made her attraction to Roger all the greater. He could offer her the things she didn’t have, though Shay suspected Marcy genuinely cared for her fiancé. Still, that he hadn’t been named executer of Marcy’s

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estate startled Shay. Especially when it turned out Marcy had named her to handle her affairs. “Ah Marcy, I miss you. We were best friends. We did everything together.” Shay idly rubbed her fingers across the cool marble of the grave marker. The spirit man rose to his feet. Shay tried not to watch, but out of the corner of her eye she saw him head toward the exit. She waited until he had moved out of sight. “I miss you. Dear Goddess, I miss you. I can’t pass by a Starbucks without thinking of you.” Shay closed her eyes against a rush of tears. She swallowed hard, trying not to break down so soon. “I’m doing all right, so don’t worry about me. I’m getting along, and if you believe it, I actually do tarot readings now. I know you always told me to use my skills to help people, that it would help me come to grips with my abilities. And you’re right. But then again you were always right, weren’t you?” She laughed. “Except when it came to men, isn’t that what you always said? I haven’t seen Roger since I picked up some of your papers and pictures at your house. I guess he gave everything away to the Salvation Army. Bastard. Even the strappy sandals of yours I was always borrowing.” Kneeling before a grave discussing fashion with a dead woman didn’t bother her. No, what bothered her more were the nagging doubts in the back of her mind. She didn’t want to voice them, feared to give them voice where others might hear. Any worries she had, she needed to keep tucked safely inside where no one else could know. At least, not until she had more information. Shay closed her eyes. She said a silent prayer, asking for strength to continue her search for Marcy’s killer. Slowly, she rose to her feet and looked around. Her friend had lived every day to its fullest, and she would want Shay to do the same. With that philosophy, though, her best friend’s suicide just didn’t fit.

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Chapter Two Kyle tried to ignore the woman kneeling by Marcy’s grave. She drew him like a tide to the shore, and he fought to keep his senses about him. He didn’t need to be ogling her. Not now. The Fates said he had someone to save, someone to protect, even if he couldn’t save the one he wanted. On the edge of the cemetery two men caught his attention. They stood apart behind a low screen of evergreen bushes. A black-haired man in a brown shirt stood next to a man with brown hair in a green shirt. Crisp jeans tried to make the men look casual, but Kyle saw beneath the façade. They wore dark sunglasses, and their button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up to appear casual looked too pressed, too starched to be someone out for a walk. No particular grave caught the men’s attention, and they had their backs to the playground. Something other than honoring the dead drew their attention beyond the park to this cemetery. Kyle glanced around. Aside from a few other spirits and the woman, no one else remained in the graveyard. Although the sun shone in the sky, a somber air permeated the place, keeping even the laughing children away from the hedges dividing the park from this place of rest. He shifted position. If the men saw him, they gave no indication. Kyle allowed his gaze to be drawn to the woman. He saw her lips move, but from this distance couldn’t hear her words. She seemed to be in a conversation with Marcy. About what, he didn’t know. Still, she seemed like she must have been a friend. Kyle swallowed hard. He would have liked to get to know Marcy’s friends. He imagined barbeques in the backyard, going places together, all the normal things couples did. Now they never would do any of those things. He fought against the self-recriminations threatening to eat him alive. He’d made his decisions, now he had to face the consequences. The image of the Fates standing at the end of the hall snipping off the threads of life filled his mind. So many souls, so little time. The man in the brown shirt stepped forward. Just a step, but closer than Kyle wanted him. Hair rose on the back of Kyle’s neck. Something wasn’t right. The man appeared to survey the graveyard, eventually taking a seat on a bench not far from the hedge, but his gaze swept past the woman. A regular sweep, like a trained officer. Kyle watched Green-shirt move into place not far away. He seemed to be studying a headstone, standing there in meditative contemplation, but Kyle noticed the tense set of the man’s shoulders as he stepped forward. The woman looked up. Brown eyes the color of rich chocolate widened, then swept him from head to toe.

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His cock hardened. Kyle rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving the woman. She saw him. He knew it in the way a pink flush covered her pale cheeks, the way her lips parted as he stepped forward. She saw him. Kyle stopped. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words emerged. A glance over her head showed the two men still watching, their gaze focused on the woman, not on him. Questions swarmed through his mind, nearly forced him to speak. Instead, he let his gaze travel over her thin, swanlike neck to where her breasts pushed against the soft cotton fabric of her peach shirt. It hung loose over her hips, hiding the curves he knew must lie beneath the fabric. Her legs, dear God, her legs went on forever, and he wondered what it would be like to have them wrap around his waist. I’m a ghost, for Christ sakes! I’m dead! His body didn’t believe him for his cock throbbed to a nonexistent heartbeat. His jaw worked. Brown-shirt stood up and rose to his feet. Kyle frowned. “I don’t think you should be here,” he said as he moved so he had a clear path between him and the woman. She blinked twice then forced her gaze to stare at the headstone. Her lips moved, but he heard no sound. A tear leaked from her eyes to trail over her cheeks. His fingers itched to rub it away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried not to crowd her, yet wanting to test his theory. Pasting a devil-may-care smile on his lips, he sauntered past the headstone toward where the two men stood. He paused, two rows of graves away. Neither man looked at him, only through him. Kyle turned back toward the woman. She had risen to her feet, and he watched her move like a blossom unfurling on a warm summer morning. He feared closing his eyes, lest he miss a move and something happen to her. He couldn’t keep admiring her. He loved Marcy. This mysterious woman knocked him for a loop. Kyle shook his head and gritted his teeth. Whatever feelings his body felt for this woman, he couldn’t let it interfere with his job—save her and head into the afterlife. She didn’t move. She remained standing before the grave with her head bowed, so unmoving she might be a tree. Only trees swayed with the wind, and this woman looked as if someone might shove her over and she’d break. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let anyone break her. The men grew restless. He saw it in the way Brown-shirt crossed his ankles, then clasped his hands and released them. He glanced over at Green-shirt, clearly the steadier of the two. They weren’t professional muscle. Amateurs maybe, or new to the business, but not in it long enough to learn how to sit still without moving for hours. Good surveillance happened that way, sitting bone-still for hours until something happened. Something like an FBI agent handing over documents to an international criminal. He’d known Sage would get him eventually, but he’d had to try to make things better for Marcy. Thoughts of the woman he loved pulled his attention back to the grave, and he tried to deal with the fact she was gone forever.

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Out of the corner of her eye she saw the ghost start to move closer. He stopped then shifted his feet as if he were uncertain he wanted to be there. “I don’t think you should be here,” he said. His voice, smooth and warm like a good whisky, washed over her and she blinked at him, uncertain she heard him correctly. His intent stare warmed her. Beneath her shirt, her nipples hardened, and warm heat darted through her veins. She blinked again, trying to clear the effect he had on her. The ghost stood still. Shay turned her attention back to the headstone, hoping if she ignored him he would go away. His cryptic words worried her. She had every right to be here! Marcy was her best friend. Who the hell did this guy think he was? She glanced around and saw two gentlemen on the edge of the cemetery dressed in button-down shirts and jeans. They didn’t look like parents, and certainly weren’t paying any attention to the playground, but perhaps they had a loved one buried, or maybe they liked the park. She highly doubted they were there for her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Her lips moved, talking to Marcy, yet she really couldn’t focus on the words. Mostly nonsensical stuff about what television shows ended up getting cancelled or a neat site she saw on the Internet. A few things about her clients—she figured the ghost wouldn’t be telling anyone. The ghost moved. He started to walk in front of Marcy’s headstone, heading away from her. Relief flooded her. She forced herself to stand, and tried not to look at his taut ass encased in denim as he walked away. Just a meddling ghost, she thought, though her shields should have kept him at bay. In spite of her reassuring thoughts, her palms grew clammy, and in her chest, her heart pounded. He couldn’t know anything she didn’t. He couldn’t have been sent to warn her. The more she watched him move purposely toward the two men, the more she doubted. Straightening, Shay rubbed her palms on the thighs of her jeans. “Goodbye, my friend. I’ll be back to visit you later,” she said. She glanced around, trying to conceal her growing nervousness. She turned purposely toward her car and started walking with a nonchalant air. She worked to give the appearance of not wanting trouble. As she returned to the main path leading through the cemetery, she wondered about the ghost’s cryptic words. The farther she got from Marcy’s grave, the more her fears lessened. She couldn’t see the men sitting over by the park, nor could she see the ghost who had warned her. With a shake of her head, Shay dismissed her fears as crazy talk from a ghost. She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and meandered toward the park, wanting to sit outside and enjoy the balmy day before returning home. Her foot twisted. “Damn it,” Shay muttered as she wrenched her ankle from the hole. She hobbled to a nearby bench and sat down, rubbing her ankle. It throbbed, and she wondered if she might not have sprained it. Reaching into her purse, she forced herself to swallow two ibuprofen tablets, hoping they’d kick in soon and stop the pain. Gingerly, she stood again, wincing at the pain shooting through her ankle. Gritting her teeth, she stepped forward.

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Shay walked through the pain. Thoughts of spending time in the park fled. Instead, she wanted to get home, ice her ankle, and contemplate writing a nasty letter to the city council about gopher holes. Each step shot agony through her leg. Shay bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes at the pain. Sucking in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to hasten her pace to her car. Movement caught Shay’s attention. She turned, hissing at the strain on her ankle. Two men strode toward her. Shay gasped. She stepped back. Her ankle buckled. She collapsed, started to fall toward the ground, and then strong arms wrapped around her. She rose, felt him supporting her, and wrapped the strap of her purse around her fist. “I’m here.” His husky words filled her with hope. Reminded her that for the first time in a long time she wasn’t alone. She recognized the voice of the handsome ghost, and somehow, knowing she had help, a protector, made her feel stronger. “Get the hell out of here. Run! Get to your car. Drive away.” The ghost released her, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary, and sent heat licking along her skin. Shay turned toward her car. The men flanked her. Shay swung her purse. The pain in her ankle forgotten, she stepped forward, shoving the one in the brown shirt off balance. “Get away from me, you bastards!” Shay yelled. She glanced around. The kids playing in the park had left, leaving her alone. She darted for her car. A strong hand wrapped around her arm. He tugged, yanking her off balance. Shay stumbled. She grabbed the man’s arm, catching herself, and struggled back to her feet. “What do you want?” She kicked him. Her foot connected with a solid thud, and she kicked again. She pummeled him, pounding her fists against his arms, his chest, his face, anything to make him let go. The ghost was right, damn him. Kyle tried not to remember the feel of her body pressed against his. When she’d fallen, he wrapped his arms around her, supporting her until she could stand again. Her ankle hurt her. The tense set of her jaw and tiny winces didn’t hide her pain. Instead, it only made him want to carry her to her car and send her away to safety. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to figure out why these men were after her. So instead he told her to run. She fought. He admired that in a woman. Even though her fear radiated from her in waves, tangible and heart-wrenching, she still fought against her attackers. He’d help her. He’d save her. Failure wasn’t an option. He had to protect her from these men. Then he had to find out why they were after her. Kyle grabbed Green-shirt’s collar, hauling him away from the woman. He watched as she attacked Brown-shirt, kicking and punching, everything she’d been taught in self-defense class. Her knee grazed his thigh, and his startled grunt told her she’d 22

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nearly made contact. He grinned as he punched Green-shirt. The man’s head snapped around, and he stumbled backwards. Adrenaline raced through him, familiar and warm. Kyle punched Green-shirt again. The man looked around. Eyes wide he swung at the air, missing Kyle. Biting his lip, Kyle stifled a chuckle, and instead swept the man’s legs from beneath him. He landed on his ass, and instantly, Kyle was on him, punching him. What do you want? Who do you work for? The questions hovered on the tip of his tongue, but Kyle knew better than to speak. He ducked an uppercut then rose from Green-shirt and kicked him in the ribs. Bone crunched. He glanced behind him to see the woman still struggling with Brown-shirt. He darted across the sidewalk and landed a punch square on Brown-shirt’s ribs. The man released her. She fought against looking at him, instead kneed Brown-shirt in the groin and ran for her car. Brown-shirt lunged. He grabbed her, hauling her backwards. Wrapping an arm around her middle, he tugged her toward the bushes. “No!” Kyle roared. He landed a left hook to the guy’s jaw. A grab for his arm, and he released the woman. “Run, damn it!” he yelled at her. “I can take care of this.” “Who’s there? What the hell?” The guy looked around wildly. The woman hesitated. “Go!” He wanted to shove her toward her car, but with her ankle, he feared hurting her even more. “Please.” Green-shirt charged. “Fuck,” Kyle growled. He whirled to take on Green-shirt just as Brown-shirt came back for the woman. “This is crazy.” Frustration welled inside him. Years of existing as a ghost on the wrong side of the law caught up with him, as he pummeled the man standing before him. Green-shirt didn’t have a chance. Fighting came easy to him. The stretch of muscle, the pounding of flesh against flesh, it pulled him into the place where he no longer existed. He wasn’t Kyle Denison, FBI agent gone bad. Instead, he was a force for good, a changing force, hell-bent on protecting an innocent bystander. From the muffled grunts coming behind him, the woman held her own. Kyle sneered. Lu-Marc had rookies who could fight better than these wannabe thugs. He kicked out, catching Green-shirt in the chest. The man toppled. Kyle followed. He wouldn’t leave anything to chance, not now. Skin split against his knuckles, spilling hot blood over his fingers. He jabbed his fist into Green-shirt’s stomach. Hard muscles gave way, and Green-shirt gasped for air. A job. A duty. At one time he might have reveled in besting another man. Instead, he did what he had to do to keep the woman safe. He wanted Green-shirt out of the equation. Then he could send that woman’s cute little ass skedaddling back to her car where it belonged. And he could go on with his non-life without her.

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A fist punched him in the gut. Kyle stumbled backwards, realizing that Green-shirt had finally landed a punch. “I got you now,” Green-shirt said. He swung wildly, his fist brushing Kyle’s cheek. “Quit fucking around and come over here and help me!” Brown-shirt yelled. He yelped, and Kyle glanced over to see the woman bite him. “Something’s fighting me. I can’t.” Green-shirt charged Kyle, who stepped nimbly out of the way. Kyle kicked Green-shirt, sending him sprawling to the ground. Instantly, he dropped on the man, hands poised on either side of his neck. A quick twist, that was all it would take. Bone and sinew would snap, and the man wouldn’t trouble the woman any longer. He squeezed. Kyle paused. He couldn’t just kill him, not when they needed more information. He punched Green-shirt again and the man went limp. Kyle ran to the woman. He punched Brown-shirt, sending him stumbling backwards. This time, the woman hobbled toward the car. She didn’t cry out, no tears marked her face. He admired her strength, her courage, and he pummeled Brown-shirt for even daring to hurt her. “What the fuck?” Brown-shirt asked. He glanced around at the phantom punches. Unlike Green-shirt, he didn’t try to retaliate. Instead, he glanced down at his still unconscious partner and raced for the trees. He watched Brown-shirt run away, disgusted with the man who clearly preyed on those weaker than himself. Whoever had hired the two men didn’t seem to notice the ineptness of his hirelings. A grab and run, Kyle wondered. A bit of abduction for someone. He turned over thoughts in his mind as he strolled toward the woman’s car. If the two men had meant to kill her, they certainly didn’t act like it. Green-shirt moaned. He struggled to his feet, took one look at his fleeing partner and followed. He didn’t even look toward the parking lot where she still sat in her car. Kyle shook his head. He didn’t like this situation, not one bit. The woman looked up. Her gaze stopped him in his tracks. Her dark eyes shone with unshed tears. Whiteknuckled fingers clenched the steering wheel. Her shoulders shook, and he watched her ragged breathing. He swallowed hard. Adrenaline still pulsed through his system, quickly turning his attention to other things. He wanted to drown in her eyes, just fall into the pool and bathe with her essence. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he imagined what it would feel like sliding over his cock. Heaven. Slick, wet heat as she tasted him. He wanted to taste her. Kyle stepped forward. An invisible cord bound them, pulling him closer, and he was helpless to resist.

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Shay stared at the steering wheel trying to gather what few nerves she had left. Closing her eyes, she drank deep breaths of air, thinking of each one as a calming influence. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She repeated the words to herself, though she fought hard to believe them. She glanced out the windshield and saw him. The ghost moved toward her. A predatory gleam lit his eyes. He moved with fluid grace, like a large cat, long legs eating up the space between them. His light blue eyes caught hers, and captured her. She couldn’t look away. Shay unclenched her fingers from around the steering wheel and clasped her hands in her lap. She leaned back. With her shoulders pressed against the car seat, she forced herself to sit upright. Straight and tall, just as if she didn’t have any cares in the world. Her fingers shook as she placed the keys in the ignition. The ghost stood in front of the car. Shay couldn’t look away. She traced the open collar of his shirt, imagining the tanned skin that lay beneath. The two bullet wounds didn’t faze her, she’d seen far worse in her line of work. She once spoke with a spirit holding his own head. Apparently decapitation didn’t stop those in the spirit realm. Looking over the ghost, she couldn’t imagine any part of him harmed. Beneath the blue shirt lay hard muscles, she knew. He wore his jeans low and tight. The bulge of his cock against the denim made her mouth water. She forced her gaze back to his face, only to see him walk around the car and pause by her passenger-side door. Shay shook her head. She’d gone through too much today to have to deal with a lost spirit. Closing her eyes, she focused her attention on her shielding, making sure a brilliant white light surrounded her and her car. She opened her eyes in time to see the ghost stagger back. “I don’t mean you any harm,” he said. His words sounded muffled through the car door. Shay turned the key in the ignition. “I didn’t want this gift, this curse. I don’t want to see the dead. Whatever he has to tell me, I don’t want to know,” she muttered to herself, not caring if the handsome ghost heard her or not. Turning, she looked at him. Pain returned to his features, the heart-sore pain she had recognized in Marcy’s eyes. His hand hovered over the door handle. “Please. Let me in. There’re questions I have to ask you.” “You all have things to ask me,” Shay yelled, not caring if anyone else heard her. “Just go on to heaven or hell or the afterlife and leave me alone.” She sucked in a shaky breath and put the car in reverse. “I never asked for this gift. I don’t want it!” Shay glanced in the rearview mirror, ready to back up. “You shouldn’t drive in your condition.” Suddenly he sat beside her. Shay slammed the car in park and turned to look at him. She expected him to be polite. She expected him to open the door and step in like a civilized person. Apparently that had been too much to ask. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She spat out the foul words. “I told you to go away.” Belatedly she realized her shields still

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pulsed around her. If he meant her harm, he wouldn’t have gotten this close. It didn’t make her feel any better about his presence or her gift. “You were at Marcy’s grave.” His soft words tugged at her emotions. Real pain filled his features. Had he needed to breathe, she suspected he would have taken a shaky breath. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his hands as if he wanted to do something, but didn’t know what. His vulnerability called to her. Deep in her soul, Shay knew this ghost, in life, or in the afterlife, didn’t show this side of himself very often, and it touched her that he trusted her enough to do so. Her anger melted from her, replaced by a need to comfort him. Shay reached for him. Her hand slid through his shoulder, and she yanked it back. “Sorry,” she mumbled, aghast that she forgot about his incorporeal state for even a moment. “That was rude of me.” He turned to face her. “It’s all right. What I want to know is how can you see me? How can you hear me? Most people can’t.” “I’m clairvoyant. I’ve been able to interact with the dead since my father died when I was five.” She frowned, not wanting to dredge up memories of a little girl certain her daddy had stayed with her after the car accident that had taken his life. The tender memories of a father devoted to his daughter, and of her mother yelling at her for talking to her daddy, filled her mind. Shay squeezed her eyes closed. It was too much, coming so soon on the heels of visiting Marcy’s grave and her attack. “If that’s all you wanted to know—” “No!” Kyle’s sharp bark filled the car. “You knew Marcy?” “Oh dear,” Shay said. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” Closer to him, she thought she smelled a hint of aftershave, Old Spice, but it couldn’t be because he was dead. Dead men didn’t need to shave. In the back of her mind, Shay remembered Marcy mentioning a man she had loved before she met Roger. Her friend had always been taciturn when asked about him. Could he be the one? She shivered at the thought. If he is, then when did he die? How did he die? She fought the questions swarming through her mind. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here. I don’t know why you came to see me, or if you had anything to do with those guys attacking me. But I, for one, want to get away from this place. Just for a while.” She thought about telling him to buckle his seat belt then realized as a ghost, car accidents didn’t matter to him. She fastened her own seat belt with a click. “I’m going home.”

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Chapter Three Home. It sounded so good. He’d been on his own for so long that he’d forgotten all about home. He knew he couldn’t return there. The small clapboard bungalow where he grew up wouldn’t offer a haven to him now. The same for the apartment where he and Marcy had made love. With his physical body dead, and everyone he cared for gone, he had no home. Loss filled him. He shoved aside his grief. Marcy’s death hurt, ached even, but death was a natural part of life, as he so well knew. She expertly backed her car out of the parking lot and maneuvered into traffic. Kyle watched her out of the corner of his eye, her capable hands on the steering wheel, the movement of her legs as she braked and accelerated. He licked his lips, thinking of running his hands over the denim to feel the shift and play of her muscles. His cock hardened. Kyle frowned. His body’s reaction startled him. He’d been around his share of beautiful women, even had to help Sage dredge information from a Nevada brothel once, and wasn’t that the most intriguing mission he’d ever had. But in all his years his body had never reacted with such ferocity to a woman. She apparently was a friend of Marcy’s. It felt like cheating. His heart—no, his soul—belonged to Marcy, and although she had died, it didn’t give him an excuse to go ogling her friend. The woman looked at him curiously, and Kyle smoothed the frown from his face. She turned into a residential neighborhood, one that reminded him of where the banker lived. Similar houses painted gray or brown stood on even lots. Even the trees in the front matched, all at the same stage of growth. Nothing, no kid’s toys, no flowerbeds, nothing differentiated the houses from each other. He hated it, and when the woman turned into an older neighborhood, he found himself hoping she lived there. A mishmash of houses lined the streets. Two-story Victorian homes sat next to starter bungalows. Front yards filled with flowers and children’s toys made each home distinct from its neighbors, and one yard had been fenced in, with a large yellow Lab barking behind the gate. At the idyllic scene, Kyle’s throat clenched. A long time ago he’d imagined Marcy and him living just like this. He clenched his eyes closed then opened them again. He should move on, after all Marcy was dead, and so was he. But he had nothing to offer another woman. Maybe he should just pine after Marcy. He glanced at the woman in the driver’s seat, and imagined his fingers sliding over the firm line of her jaw. The hollow of her collarbone tempted him. He longed to slide his tongue over the indentation, working his way lower to suckle her breasts. His aching cock brought his attention back to the moment. “Can I at least know your name?” he asked as she pulled into the driveway of a white tri-level home. New

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white vinyl siding covered the home, though the green wooden shutters had peeling paint. In spite of the dandelions covering the yard, beautiful flowerbeds flanked the front door. The garage door opened, and the woman drove inside. He watched as she put the car in park then turned to face him. “I’m Shay,” she said. “Marcy was my friend. My best friend.” Raw emotion choked her voice. “Who are you and why were you by Marcy’s grave?” Kyle swallowed hard. He wanted to tell her the truth, all of it, but wondered how much Marcy might have told her. If she learned he was the one who had broken Marcy’s heart by dying, and turned traitor to his agency, what would she think of him? He doubted it would be good. He looked at her for long moments. “I’m Kyle,” he replied, “and at one time Marcy loved me.” “Kyle?” She spoke his name in a questioning tone, furrows on her brow as she thought. “I knew there was someone in her past, but she barely mentioned anything. I think it hurt too badly.” The casual words shot straight through his soul. Bullet wounds were nothing compared to the knowledge that the woman he loved had barely spoken about him. His hand closed around the door handle, sliding through it, before he remembered his incorporeal state. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I thought you might know something about Marcy, about how she died.” He turned and bolted through the car door to stand outside. “Wait!” Shay called. She opened the door, grabbed her purse, and rose to her feet. “Marcy spoke very little about her past. She said it was better that way. I think there were things she didn’t want people to know. Sensitive things. She told me once her boyfriend did some government work, and it would be best if she didn’t talk about it. But I know whoever the man in her past was, she loved him very, very much.” “Then why was she with the other man? The banker guy.” The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. He circled the car and looked at Shay. “Do you know what happened to Marcy?” Kyle cursed himself for the sudden sheen of tears in the woman’s eyes. She’d been through a lot—a friend’s death, the attack. He shouldn’t be pressing for answers she obviously didn’t want to give. She looked at him, a single tear dripping down her cheek. “Let’s go inside. I’ll tell you everything.” Without waiting for an answer, she whirled and headed for the door. Kyle followed. Shay turned quickly before the ghost could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, hoping to dispel the telltale signs of fresh grief. Kyle. His name jogged memories, of Marcy and her on a picnic, her friend sad, but unwilling to talk about the reason why. Reaching into her purse, she breathed deeply as she grabbed her keys. She didn’t need to be giving in to emotions now. She didn’t even know why she’d invited him in, except that he looked so lost and it had been so long— Shay stopped her train of

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thought. A man, any man, she didn’t need right now. Besides, if guys didn’t call her crazy for talking to the dead, they’d say she “freaked them out”. Even Marcy’s fiancé had said that. She shoved unpleasant memories from her mind as she opened the door and stepped through. Kyle followed behind her. His warmth, warmth he shouldn’t have, radiated to her, reminding her of his spectral state. At least he wouldn’t call her crazy for talking to dead souls. Shay frowned. And what will happen when he discovers the truth? He’d probably head on to the afterlife. She’d never gotten a straight answer as to what awaited departed souls. Figured she was probably better off not knowing. Closing the door behind her, she fought the weariness and pain surging through her body. Her ankle throbbed anew, reminding her of its earlier punishment. Her back ached, and a large scratch burned across her shoulder blades. Her abraded knuckles stung. Hobbling, she dropped her purse on the counter. “Take a seat.” She gestured to her oak dining room table covered with crocheted place mats the color of a sunrise, streaked with yellow and orange. With the lemon-colored walls of her kitchen it made it look sunny and bright. On most days, her haven, but not today. The many reasons why she should fight her attraction to him loomed in her mind. He’d broken Marcy’s heart. Her best friend had loved him. He was dead. She couldn’t have relations with a dead man. Carefully Shay checked her shields, and ensuring they stood strong, and poured herself a glass of water before turning to face Kyle. “You have questions,” she said. “I’ll do my best to answer them, then please, get out of my house.” She shifted her weight to her good leg. Hurt, quickly concealed, flashed across Kyle’s face. “Sit, please. Your ankle must be killing you.” He gestured to the chairs. “And let me look at your back. Your shirt’s ripped.” She turned away from him, wrapping her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture. “It’s all right.” She leaned her butt against the cupboards and looked at him. “I’m fine,” she lied. As long as she stayed over here she wouldn’t be tempted by things she shouldn’t have. He looked dubiously at her then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Shay nodded as if they’d come to a truce. “I met Marcy about three and a half years ago. We met at a new age store here in town. She was looking at the books about contacting loved ones who’d died, and well, I have some experience in that area. We started talking. She told me about this guy she had loved, but he was gone. She wouldn’t tell me how or when or what happened. I told her…” Shay swallowed hard against the tears flooding her throat. She closed her eyes. She never imagined telling him her story would be so difficult. Taking a shaky breath, she pulled out a kitchen chair and gratefully sank into its support. Kyle reached across the table. Concentrating on touching the physical, he laid his hand over hers and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s all right. I don’t need to know it all

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right now. I’ve got plenty of time.” He grinned, a rakish grin Shay suspected melted women’s hearts and got him out of trouble. She breathed a shaky sigh. “I’ve got to tell you. I’ve got to say this.” Then he could leave, and she wouldn’t be tempted by the man Marcy once loved with all her heart. “I told her that it’s incredibly difficult to contact the dead, and to move on. It took her a while, but she did. And then she met Roger.” Hurt and anger radiated from him. She saw it in the tense set of his shoulders and in his eyes. He looked at her, his gaze damning her as the one who told Marcy to move on. Recriminations filled his mind. She saw the “If only…” look on his face and knew he must have been thinking of what could have happened between Marcy and him. “I’m sorry.” She needed to explain herself. “As someone who can see spirits, I know most of them don’t want to be contacted. The only ones left on this plane are ones with unfinished business, and usually they’re busy doing whatever they need to do so they can move on to the next life.” She didn’t ask about his unfinished business. If he wanted to tell her, he would. “Roger offered Marcy security and a chance at a family. That’s what she told me she wanted, a man with a nine-to-five job and a family in the suburbs.” “You didn’t believe her?” Kyle interjected. Shay shrugged. “I think she thought those things would bring her happiness.” “Then why did she die? If she had this idyllic life, then how did Marcy die?” Shay stared across the table at Kyle. She wanted to tell him, she really did, but should she sully his memory of the woman he loved with the knowledge she’d committed suicide? Looking at the man in her dining room, Shay suspected whatever she said would break his heart.

***** The two men entered the inner sanctum with a dejected air. Sitting behind his desk, hands folded before him, Armond Bijouter, small-arms dealer and purveyor of recreational pharmaceuticals, watched the two minions belonging to his business partner enter the room. He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin, red slash on his pale face. A ponytail held back his long jet-black hair, and it, combined with his Armani suit, screamed foreign businessman. Exactly the look he wanted. Armond glanced toward Roger, gauging the other man’s reaction as his lackeys stepped into the room. Bruises marred their faces, and both men struggled to hide their limps. Roger’s eyes widened in surprise. He glanced at his mentor, but Armond made no sound, no motion which might betray his thoughts to the other man. Roger wanted to run with the big boys, and Armond doubted he’d be able to handle a simple assignment. “Sir.” Duke stood square, his green shirt rumpled. Grass stains marred his jeans, and a nasty bruise darkened his jaw.

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Roger held up his hand. Armond hid the smirk behind a forceful, neutral stare. After all, it wouldn’t do any good to let the muscle know how little he trusted their boss. “I see you returned alone. Where’s Shay?” Roger glanced from man to man. He questioned with his eyes, and Armond suspected that Roger wanted to know why these two trained guards couldn’t return with one woman. It should have been an easy task. “She got away,” Duke breathed. “I don’t know how, or why. She fought like a wildcat, but we expected it. We’re trained for it, but she had help. This thing kept us from getting to her. It punched me down and kept me occupied so I couldn’t assist.” “Excuses. One of you should have been enough. Carson, why didn’t you take her in alone?” “She fought, sir. Like a tiger.” The man in the brown shirt turned to display two ugly claw marks down his cheek from her nails. He winced as he shifted his feet, and this time Armond allowed himself a small smile. Apparently her blows had found their mark. Roger shook his head. “I’m disappointed with you both.” He spoke like a father might speak to a naughty child. “Get out!” “Yes, sir,” both men spoke at once, then turned on their heels and left. Roger sank into a chair to the right of Armond’s desk. He slouched in it, lifted his foot, as if wanting to rest it on the desk then lowered it. Armond scowled. Behind the two men, the door clicked. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it one bit. If he’d been in charge of the mission he would have had Shay in, questioned, and out of their way. This game-playing had to stop. “Roger,” he said, his voice a stern warning. “I don’t like delays.” “And you think I do?” Roger snapped. “She shouldn’t be that much trouble. I mean, she’s a flake. Does tarot readings at the metaphysical store in the mall. She shouldn’t be a match for my men.” “Your men are fools.” Armond leaned forward. He tented his fingers and peered over them with a look known to chill men to the marrow. “If they couldn’t apprehend her, then they’re useless. You’re useless.” “No. No. They’re good at their jobs. They must have had a bad day or something. I can help you. I have contacts you need.” Roger crossed his arms. “Just because we’ve had this one setback is no reason to sever a working partnership.” “I’m doing all the working, Roger. You’re the one who’s reaping the benefits. If I didn’t know any better I’d accuse you of stringing me along with promises you can’t keep. Do you know what I do to associates who don’t keep their promises?” Roger paled. He swallowed hard. “I keep my promises, Armond. I don’t think you have enough faith in me.” “All right, then. I believe you.” He admired the man’s spunk, even if he lacked follow-through.

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Roger visibly relaxed. “Let me send Duke and Carson after her again. I know her schedule. I can apprehend her after she does one of her readings at the mall.” An eager smile covered his face, reminding Armond of a puppy about to chase after a favorite tennis ball. “Let’s not be too hasty. I will make some discreet inquiries. I don’t like the sound of her ‘help’. It could be something we want to eliminate before proceeding.” The guards’ reports intrigued him. He wasn’t without resources. Lu-Marc had spirit helpers, as did he. Could it be this woman did as well? Armond knew she supposedly spoke with the dead. If so, then the game had completely changed, and he wanted to know what she knew about Kyle. He had gone missing after Lu-Marc’s destruction. He couldn’t imagine Marcy not confiding in her, and surely Kyle confided in Marcy. He had to find Lu-Marc’s secret holdings. He pulled himself from his thoughts long enough to smile reassuringly at Roger. “Let me find some information, then we can make a plan of attack. Now what information did you have about the meth labs north of town? Do you think we could bring them into the fold?” His mind diverted from unpleasant things, Roger proceeded to give him all the details on the small, rural labs producing methamphetamines. Such a crazy way to make drugs, but it sold like ice water in the desert, and he never was a man to turn away easy money. Making mental notes, Armond listened to Roger talk about his favorite subject—how to make money.

***** Shay shoved back her chair and rose to her feet. Walking to the refrigerator, she used the time to compose her thoughts. She couldn’t blurt out her theories. She didn’t even know if they were true. But something deep inside her told her they were, that she was right about the cause of Marcy’s death. Her stomach churned. Grabbing a can of 7Up from the fridge, she opened it and took a long drink. She turned slowly to face Kyle. “Marcy passed away,” Shay said. She forced her voice to remain neutral. “The coroner ruled it a clear suicide. I’m sorry. There wasn’t anything we could do. Whatever demons Marcy had, she kept hidden from even me, her closest friend.” Kyle clenched his fist. He pounded it on the table, the boom rattling through the kitchen, startling Shay. She hadn’t expected him to interact with her physical environment, though belatedly, she realized he sat on a chair and had ridden in her car. “It can’t be.” He closed his eyes. “Or if it was, it was my fault.” Shay stepped forward. The man’s pain drew her, cut her for withholding her suspicions. She wanted to soothe it. “No,” she said, laying a hand on his ghostly shoulder. It rested there as if he were real. She thought for a moment, and then realized she must have to concentrate on him to touch him. “It wasn’t your fault.” Kyle looked at her. Anguish filled his gaze. His eyes, shiny from unshed tears, pleaded with her. “It had to be. Marcy wouldn’t commit suicide. She loved life too much.” He reached up and cupped his hand over hers where it rested on his shoulder.

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Warmth penetrated her fingers. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Probably a whole lot of things, but I’m just this spirit who suddenly showed up at the cemetery. You don’t have any reason to trust me.” Shay pulled away. She did trust him. Something in his gaze, his bearing, told her this man, regardless of what he had done in the past, could be trusted. Perhaps it was his warm eyes, or maybe the comfortable feeling he brought with him. She didn’t know, only that something in him made her trust him, and she didn’t like it. He was a ghost. Sometimes she wished her abilities would go away. It would be easier, so much easier that way. “You’re hurt.” His words reminded her of her pain, her twisted ankle, and she limped back to her seat and sat down. She leaned back in the chair, hissing as the scratch on her back stung. “Let me help.” He rose to his feet. “Where do you keep your first-aid supplies?” “I’ll get it.” “You shouldn’t be on that leg.” Kyle rose to his feet and walked around the table. He knelt before her and gently lifted her leg so it rested in his lap. His tender ministrations startled her. He tugged her jeans leg up and unlaced her sneaker, removing it from her foot so gently she didn’t even feel a twinge. He unrolled the sock, his strong hands capable. Where his fingers touched her skin, tiny sparks of flame erupted. The rasp of his calloused fingertips against her flesh sent shivers of sensation down her spine. Her pussy clenched, and her eyelids fluttered closed. She breathed a sigh, each tender touch against her foot feeling as if he stroked her damp sex. “You’ll need to ice your ankle for a while.” Gently, Kyle set her foot back on the floor. “But it doesn’t appear to be broken.” He rose to his feet, and she looked up, along the length of his legs to the bulge of his cock against his jeans. It pressed long and hard against the denim, making her wonder what kind of ghost would get a hard-on. She wanted to slide down his zipper, unbutton his jeans, and take the length of him into her hands. She licked her lips, imagining the salty taste of him in her mouth. Shay blinked her eyes and forced her gaze to his face. The naked lust in his eyes shocked her. He had loved Marcy. She tried to tell herself she shouldn’t lust after a ghost. Except Marcy was gone, and she was here, and it probably had been a very long time since he’d had a good fuck. Her thoughts taunted her, one moment telling her why she shouldn’t give in to the desire coursing through her veins, the next telling her why she should. Kyle stepped back and looked away. “You’ll probably want to get that scratch cleaned.” He balled his hands into fists and stepped out of her line of sight to go stand next to the counter. Shay nodded. With her mouth suddenly gone dry, she didn’t trust herself to speak. She rose to her feet, hoping the pain shooting through her ankle would dispel her lust. It didn’t, only made her long to ask him to help her to the bathroom. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Instead, she turned and hobbled through the doorway.

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He didn’t follow her. Shay resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She continued forward, trying to tell herself it was a good thing he wasn’t around. That way she wouldn’t do something silly like make love with a ghost. It’d been far too long if she needed to resort to spectral sex. She stifled a chuckle as she closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it. A slight knock startled her. Righting herself, Shay opened the door a crack and peeked outside. Kyle stood there, his expression unreadable. “You’re going to need someone to help you,” he said. “I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.” His lips quirked into a smile, and Shay doubted his words.

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Chapter Four Shay’s stomach flip-flopped. Looking at Kyle standing just outside her bathroom door, a boyish grin on his face, made her wonder what would happen if she invited him to join her. She’d planned on taking a shower, figuring that would be the easiest way to wash the wound on her back. But with Kyle there, she wouldn’t need to go to such lengths. Then again, maybe she would anyway. She stepped back and opened the door, suddenly nervous about her plan. “I guess you’re right,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “I will need some help.” Turning from him, she pulled her shirt over her head. She swore she heard Kyle’s swiftly indrawn breath. She glanced into the mirror and saw the angry red gash start just below her shoulder blade to disappear beneath her bra clasp. She reached around her and unfastened the hooks. Her peach lace bra hung loosely on her shoulders, and she noticed Kyle trying hard not to look at her breasts in the mirror. She slipped the lingerie from her shoulders. “The peroxide and some antibiotic ointment are in the medicine cabinet.” Kyle opened the mirrored panel. She watched, noticing the light glow surrounding his skin. If it weren’t for that, he’d look completely normal standing in her bathroom, reaching for the brown plastic bottle of peroxide. He grabbed several cotton balls and turned his attention to her back. His movements seemed slow, as if he had to think about each action. “This is going to sting a little. There’s not much I can do about that.” He unscrewed the lid of the peroxide bottle and doused a cotton ball. “Are you ready?” “I’ll be fine,” she said. His fingers brushed her skin, and tiny shivers darted from the touch. Her nipples pebbled, and she resisted the urge to cover her breasts with her hands. A soft fizzing sound filled the bathroom, and then the wound stung. Shay sucked in a quick breath and gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry.” Kyle continued to dab the cotton ball on the wound. “It’s okay,” Shay ground out. She reached in front of her and wrapped her fingers around the towel rod on her shower door. Clenching her fingers around it, she focused on breathing in and out to distance herself from the sting of disinfectant on her wound. His motions slowed, and she heard the soft clunk of the bottle on the counter. The trash bag rustled as he tossed the cotton ball into it. The room closed in. She became aware of Kyle standing behind her, his body just inches from her. The thudding of her heart sounded loud in her ears. She longed to turn around and see him, but didn’t, afraid of the desire she would see in his gaze. Keeping her eyes down, she waited.

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He touched her. His fingers slid across her shoulder, a featherlight touch against her skin. Tiny sparks danced at the contact. Telling herself he was a ghost did little good, as heavy warmth filled her limbs. His hand skimmed her side, barely touching the side of her breast. She wanted more. Him. His cock. Her lips parted. “Kyle,” she breathed. “Shay.” His other hand reached around to palm her breast, a light touch that soon had him standing against her. The ridge of his cock pressed against her buttocks. Her knees went weak. She leaned against his strength, not wanting to get used to his warmth surrounding her. The fact he was a ghost mattered little. Some part of her mind rebelled, but she refused to listen. Right now, still aching from the fight and heartsore from her best friend’s death, she wanted his warmth, his strength surrounding her. She shifted her weight. Her ankle protested, and she quickly moved her weight to her good foot. “Let me help you.” His hand slid down her back, to her hip. “Turn around and wrap your legs around me.” Shay started to turn. “But you’re a gh—” Words died when she saw the naked hunger in his eyes. He wanted her, his gaze sweeping over her bared breasts. “Perfect,” he whispered, covering one with his hand. He brushed a thumb across a distended nipple, and Shay closed her eyes. His free hand slid over her back, down to her ass. Pulling her against him, he urged her to wrap her leg around his waist. She complied. The first touch of his hard cock against her coaxed a low moan from her throat. She wrapped her arms around him and brought her other leg around his waist. He easily lifted her, carrying her out of the bathroom. “Where’s your bedroom?” He glanced down the hall, before looking back into the living room. “That way.” Shay gestured with her hand. Her heart thudded in her chest, an anticipation of what he would do once he reached her sanctuary. His long strides carried them down the short hall and into the master bedroom. Huge bay windows overlooked the large backyard, and afternoon sunlight filtered through the lace curtains. She glanced at the king-size four-poster bed covered with an antique lace comforter, and wondered what he would think of her feminine room. Kyle laid her on the bed. He stretched out beside her, his hands moving lazily over her chest. He stroked her nipples, caressing her stomach, before moving his hand over her to touch her other breast. She closed her eyes, delighting in the shivers of desire winding their way through her. Her pussy ached, so when Kyle tossed his leg over hers, she arched into the heavy weight. Her lips parted, her breath came in short pants. She wanted to lose herself in sensation.

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Kyle looked down at the woman sprawled on the bed. Her breasts, small and pert, fit his hands nicely. He stroked her flat stomach, noticing a small piercing in her navel. He lowered his head and licked the spot, feeling her muscles flutter beneath his tongue. In the back of his mind, he fought the notion he dishonored Marcy’s memory with her best friend. It couldn’t be like that. Never. He unfastened her jeans, pulling them over rounded hips and down legs that seemed to go on forever. Wetness coated her pussy lips, and he pressed his lips against her softness. Her tiny moan of pleasure shot straight to his cock. He flicked her with his tongue, licking her, tasting her. Her salty musk coated his lips and made him want to delve into her secrets. Shay reached for him. He backed away long enough to shed his clothes, then returned to her and grabbed her hands, not wanting her to touch him just yet. His balls tightened against his body. He didn’t want to come so soon, not until he brought her pleasure. She needed pleasure, this woman. For too long, he sensed she’d been caught in her own web of despair. The Fates put her in his path. He didn’t know if he’d ever find out what Sage did, but she was here as was he. For now, he just wanted to feel as if he lived again. He plunged his tongue into her pussy, swirling it around her swollen clit. She arched against him, her fingers tangling in his hair. He slid his hands over her stomach to her breasts, cupping them in his hands. He thumbed her turgid nipples and smiled when her breathless cry filled the room. He wanted her. His cock ached. Tiny gasps erupted from her as her muscles tightened around his tongue. Yes! She was so warm, so responsive. Sliding his hands down over her body, he slid two fingers into her, bowing her back off the mattress. Her pleasure only added to his own, until at last she convulsed around his digits and her breathy cries of pleasure filled the room. Kyle crawled up her body, resting his cock against her wet, swollen labia. “Are you ready for this?” he asked a moment before he pressed his lips to hers. In answer, she kissed him, her lips and tongue moving over his as if she couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands wrapped around him, fingers clenched on his ass. He wanted to sheathe himself in her, bury himself and never come out. Slowly, he eased into her body. Her eyes widened. Her muscles clenched around him, drawing him deeper into her body. She pulled her lips away from his to draw in air, and he nibbled her jawline, her neck, until he stroked the sensitive place behind her ear with his tongue. Buried deep inside her, he waited for her body to adjust and fought the urge to fuck her hard and long. Heaven. No other words described having her body wrapped around his. A moment’s thought that it had never been like this with Marcy passed through his mind, and then she lifted her hips beneath him. All thoughts fled his mind as he stroked her tight warmth to release.

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Shay sucked in a harsh breath as Kyle plunged his cock into her. She grabbed him, her fingers digging into his ass, and wanted him to go deeper. His shaft filled her, stretched her, until she couldn’t take any more, and then his cock head rested next to her cervix. All the way in. Desire warred with intense concentration on his face, and she lifted her hips, wanting to feel him moving inside her. He did, each stroke and slide driving her higher. She moved with him, her body meeting his with a soft slap. He licked her with his tongue, nibbling and kissing her jaw and neck. A more attentive lover, she’d never had. The heady thought shook her. He bit gently before laving the spot with his tongue. A thrill shot through her, forcing her to rock faster against his body. Oh Goddess, he touched the deepest parts of her, filled her up and made her whole. She didn’t care what she would do when he was gone, didn’t want to care, instead focused on driving all other thoughts from her mind. Her body clenched. Pleasure radiated out, forcing a scream from her throat. Ripples of passion raced through her body. She clung to him, the only solid thing in her world. A moment later Kyle stiffened. He came with a short cry, his body rigid as he found his own release. He remained poised for a moment, then brushing his lips across her temples, lowered himself to her side.

***** A soft glow surrounded the man standing before his desk. Armond leaned back as the man waited for his orders. Lucky for him, he also could see the dead, a trait he’d hidden from Lu-Marc. Armond fought against a sly grin. If that bitch had contacts, he’d find out about it. That bumbling idiot, Roger, had screwed up his plans for the last time. Armond studied the man standing before him. Damon was the best of the best, a consummate mercenary in life, and in death he did jobs no one else wanted to touch. Armond prided himself on cultivating the man’s talents, and now Damon belonged to him. “There’s a new player in town.” He leaned forward on the desk and shoved a picture of Shay at the man. “ShayLynn Cartland. She’s a psychic and can talk to the spirits. Apparently she has some help from the other side.” He added a second photo to go along with the first. “This is Kyle Denison, former FBI agent, and Marcy’s boyfriend. They were pretty hot and serious before he died in the line of duty. I have it on good authority he used to work for Lu-Marc, but with that bastard out of the picture he could be freelancing. He could have come back for Marcy, not knowing she’s dead. If he has, then that means trouble for us because he thinks he’s one of the ‘good guys’. I want you to take care of it.” Damon looked at both pictures then shoved them across the desk toward his employer. “I’ll make sure your plans run smoothly, sir.”

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Armond smiled. “I knew I could count on you. All my resources are at your disposal. If you need additional manpower, I can arrange that as well.” He had several contacts with Lu-Marc’s former men. Most of them had sought him out after Lu-Marc’s second death. All but Kyle, who at last report had been neutralized. He had been LuMarc’s best agent. If he didn’t play for the right side anymore, he created a liability Armond could ill afford. With a curt nod, Damon turned and left the room. Armond stared at the wall and wondered if there might be any way to convince Kyle to come to his side. And if it wasn’t Kyle who helped Shay, he’d find out who.

***** Shay listened to her heart rate slow. Her breath ruffled strands of Kyle’s blond hair. The heavy weight of his leg across hers pinned her to the bed. She didn’t mind. Warm lassitude filled her body, and she floated in a haze of pleasure. Fucking Kyle loosened the stress from her body. Her cares floated away. All that mattered right now was Kyle’s naked body warm beside her. His fingers traced patterns along her ribs and on the underside of the breast. A familiar tightening started in her pussy. No, not again. She’d succumbed to his charms once and didn’t regret it. She wasn’t sure about a second time. Shay inched away, pulling her leg from beneath his. “You all right?” Kyle propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her. Reaching out, he smoothed a stand of hair away from her face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Shay closed her eyes, opening them with a smile and a sigh. “You didn’t hurt me.” She eased into a seated position and then rose to her feet, and grabbed a white terrycloth robe from a hook on her closet door. Wrapping it around her and sitting on the bed, she wished she could muster some comfort as easily as she had the robe. Kyle reached for his jeans lying beside the bed. He shrugged them on, zipping them. He left the top button undone. “Are you sure? Damn, Shay, it all happened so fast, but I won’t deny I wanted you. I still want you.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “What about Marcy?” Shay whirled to face him. “We were just at her grave.” Oh Goddess, what had she done? She had fucked Marcy’s boyfriend. Former boyfriend. Former dead boyfriend. So was Marcy…oh, it didn’t matter. She swallowed hard. Kyle’s eyes widened. Grief veiled his face and he slumped onto the edge of the bed. “She’s dead. And I—” His mouth worked, but no words emerged. “Oh fuck. What have I done?” He looked at her, the raw desire nearly making her legs buckle. “And I want you again. You taste like sunlight and heaven, two things denied to me now. Those men are after you. I told the Fates I’d accept their terms and come back, even if the one thing I wanted was lost to me, though I could save another. The Fates offered me a chance at a new life again. How could I say no, thinking I could return to Marcy? Do you need saving, Shay? Who were those guys and why did they attack you?” 39

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Shay closed her eyes, not wanting to relive the memory of her attack. The angry scratch on her back stung and her foot throbbed. She couldn’t sit down and wait for something to happen. She couldn’t be an invalid. “I think they have something to do with Roger.” “Marcy’s fiancé?” Shay nodded. “Marcy said nothing about you, except that you did government work and weren’t home very often. But she used to talk about her past. That she knew more than she probably should have. She didn’t say much. I had to piece together things to read between the lines, but I don’t think Marcy committed suicide. I think Roger killed her.” Tiny sobs broke free, and Shay buried her face in her hands. Kyle sat next to Shay. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to him. She buried her face against his chest and sobbed. He’d done this. His decisions had brought pain to Marcy and to Shay. He closed his eyes. Gathering his thoughts, he wondered if the right decision wouldn’t have been to just fade out of existence. He wouldn’t. If something he did or said threatened Shay, he would stay long enough to see her safe. Then, he’d leave. Heaven, hell or fade into nothingness, it didn’t matter. He’d go and leave her to live her own life. No matter how good her pussy felt stroking his cock, or the unidentifiable emotions she brought out in him, he’d leave. It was the best he could do. “I didn’t tell Marcy much about my work,” he began. “Most of it was classified, and frankly, I didn’t want her to be sullied by the kinds of criminals and thugs I dealt with.” Shay inhaled deeply and lifted her gaze to his. “What did you do?” Her redrimmed, swollen eyes tugged at him and reminded him of the pain he’d inflicted. Lazily, he rubbed her back, wishing the stroke of his hand could soothe away her pain. “I worked for the FBI. I died in the line of duty.” Please don’t make me say any more. I don’t want to tell you I turned traitor to my country, my friends, all so I could make more money for the woman I loved. I was so stupid, so naïve, and apparently it got me and Marcy killed. “You really were an agent?” Shay gave a low whistle. “What were you working on when you were killed?” Hesitantly, she reached up and caressed the line of his jaw. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like. To be killed in the line of duty.” Her compassion touched him, even if she didn’t know the truth. He managed a weak smile. “After the first couple of slugs, it was pretty much instantaneous. I think I hung around because my friend Sage had been shot too. He wasn’t any luckier than I. Both of us had passed marksmanship with flying marks, and we ended up killing each other.” He didn’t know how, or when to approach Sage. The last time they’d seen each other, Sage had shot him. He probably wouldn’t believe things had changed. Shay splayed her hands over his chest where scars marked the bullet wounds. “I can’t imagine,” she whispered again. “If you were an FBI agent that might explain some things. I don’t think Roger is just a banker. I think he’s involved in something.” 40

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Kyle’s instinct went on red alert. He’d known something was wrong about the man from the first moment he saw him. “Whatever it is, I’ll find out. And you won’t have to worry again.” “I think you were more than ‘just an agent’, Kyle, but I won’t press,” Shay said. Kyle nodded. “I was. There’s a lot I can’t tell you, but I hope you trust me.” “I do.” Shay walked over to the closet. Kyle fought the urge to watch. The rustle of shed clothing filled the room. To know she stood naked, so close, tightened his cock painfully. He gritted his teeth and tried to will control into his unruly body. “You might want to look at Marcy’s belongings.” The rasp of a zipper punctuated her sentence. “I have some of her journals. They might mean more to you.” Moments later she emerged dressed in a pink shell T-shirt and worn jeans. The denim cupped her like a lover, sliding over long legs and rounded hips. He wanted to pull her to him and drown in the sensation of her skin against his. It made him feel alive. “If you don’t mind. It sounds like you and she were close.” Kyle reminded himself of Shay’s relationship with Marcy. His body might want her, but his mind told him she should remain off-limits. Shay walked around the closet door to see Kyle standing stiffly beside the bed. He couldn’t see her while she changed. The knowledge he remained in the room tightened her nipples. She licked her lips nervously. “I don’t mind. I go through them thinking I’ll find more information.” Shay shook her head. “But Marcy writes in riddles and vague sentences in her journals. I have no idea what any of it means, or if it means anything. It’s almost as if she’s trying to tell me something, if only I knew what.” “I didn’t tell her much about my work. Most of it was classified and I didn’t want her burdened.” Regret filled his eyes. “I guess I said that before, huh?” Shay’s heart broke for him. His demons ran deep. There might be things he couldn’t tell her—his job guaranteed that. Words from Marcy’s journal filled her mind. “I’m afraid he’s gotten into something deep, something bad. He’s even more secretive lately and he hardly sees me. I’m afraid he doesn’t love me anymore.” Looking back, Shay realized Marcy never once mentioned Kyle’s name in her journals. Looking at him, Shay wondered if she really could trust the man who broke her friend’s heart before he died. “Let me get Marcy’s things.” Shay turned to leave. “Why don’t you wait in the living room?” She didn’t wait for an answer, simply left the room. At least in the living room, she wouldn’t be reminded of their mind-blowing sex. She grabbed the box containing Marcy’s things. For being her best friend, the worn box seemed pitiful. Some journals, some photographs, and a few silly craft projects seemed miniscule when compared to the whole of Marcy’s life. She set the box on the end table. “There you go.”

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Kyle leaned forward on the couch, elbows braced on knees. He looked from the box to her then back again. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Restraint filled him, wrapped around him like a tangible aura. Watching him, Shay wondered what it must be like to stare at the belongings of the woman he loved. His hands shook as he reached for the box. “May I?” he asked as he gently gripped the box flaps. “Go ahead.” He opened it, peering into the box’s depths as if he stared at the Holy Grail. “Marcy,” he breathed as he picked up a picture. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again tears shone. He stared at the picture of her and Marcy then looked up at Shay. “She looks happy.” Shay eased herself into a chair thinking she ought to ice her foot. Later, she decided, catching the love radiating from Kyle’s gaze. He looked at the picture then gently traced the contours of Marcy’s face. Setting the picture aside, he picked up more photos and leafed through them. Photos of Marcy, of the things they’d done, passed by. Shay didn’t want to see, not now when her grief hovered too close to the surface. Kyle picked up a journal. “It might take me a while to go through these.” He leafed through the pages before grabbing a second volume. “Do you know which one is the oldest?” “I think it’s the burgundy one,” Shay answered. “Marcy wasn’t the best about dating her entries.” Kyle smiled wistfully. “No, names and dates didn’t mean much to her. She lived very much in the now.” He sighed and leaned back. “Are you all right? Do you want me to get you anything?” “I’m fine, thanks.” She leaned back on the loveseat and closed her eyes. Right now she wanted the oblivion promised by sleep. Kyle opened to the first journal entry made before his death. It shocked him, reading words written by Marcy before she died. He remembered every moment, every touch. Then he looked across the room at Shay. His heart caught in his throat. After being inside her body, he’d tasted heaven. To allow himself any kind of connection with her would only damn them both to pain. He read the first entry, a mundane account of a day spent shopping and doing chores around the house. The only mention of him included a few sentences about his absence. He’s gone again. I miss him more than he knows. I worry when he’s gone. I shouldn’t, but I do. Kyle’s gut twisted. He knew he’d put those who cared about him through hell. Sage. Marcy. Aside from Marcy, he considered only a few guys on the force friends. He

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was a bastard. What did he find in Lu-Marc’s employ but death and pain? He turned the page and read the next entry. More mundane words met his searching gaze. Would he really find anything of value in her journals? Did he expect to find the information highlighted and bolded that would have led to her death? He shook his head and turned the page. And if he found the information, what would he do then? Looking across the room at Shay, Kyle knew he’d do anything to keep her safe.

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Chapter Five After spending the afternoon and evening going through Marcy’s meager belongings, Kyle felt no closer to finding out any information about her suicide. He still couldn’t believe she’d killed herself. It so didn’t seem like Marcy, especially since her journals spoke about daily life. Nothing in them pointed at a desire to leave the world. He rose to his feet. With a shake of his head, he paced Shay’s living room. He walked past the sofa with the coffee table piled with Marcy’s former belongings. Through the picture window, streetlights glimmered through the glass. A passing car lit the night. Shay sat curled up on the loveseat, her foot propped on two small, lacy pillows. She leaned against the back of the couch, her face relaxed in repose. The steady rise and fall of her chest testified to her easy sleep. He envied her. During his tenure with the FBI he’d been able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but now that he didn’t need sleep any longer he missed the ability. He stepped into the kitchen, not wanting to wake her. A desire for action thrummed through his veins. Roger. It had to have something to with the posh banker Marcy had lived with. Kyle shook his head and resumed his pacing. He stopped again, realizing it was silly to continue to pace. He peered back into the living room to Shay’s sleeping form. Hesitant to leave, he checked the doors and windows. All were locked. It wouldn’t keep out a determined spirit, Kyle knew, but he hoped it would keep out the physical bad guys. He glanced down at her sleeping form. Her eyelashes fanned against cheeks so pale he saw the tiny veins beneath the skin. She looked tired. He’d leave. It would get this out of his system, and then he could come back. Turning away, he went back into the kitchen and slipped through the door. He did the same in the garage and then once outside her house, broke into a run. He raced across town toward Roger’s home. One of the privileges of being dead. He traveled far faster than a living person. He stopped before Roger’s house. Streetlights illuminated the front of the house. He slipped through the front door into the darkened home. Snores echoed down the stairs, and Kyle avoided them, descending into the basement. A few boxes sat in a corner, nothing related to Marcy he saw since they were filled with old ledgers. Certainly interesting reading, he suspected, but not for tonight. The finished half of the basement held a pool table, a fully stocked bar, and a pair of chairs in front of a large television. A man’s retreat—no place for Marcy. A search of each room showed nothing. A small photograph sat here and there, but the rooms remained impersonal. Kyle wondered if they’d been this way when Marcy lived in the house. If they had, then it would have been a sign of her impending suicide,

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a way for Marcy to show herself distancing from those around her. He hated himself for thinking it, but the more he wandered through the house, the more he wondered if Marcy hadn’t committed suicide. They’d grown distant during his last months alive, with him working all the time, and her growing to resent it. Kyle ventured upstairs. The snores grew louder. He slipped into the office and started searching. He had to find something, damn it. He didn’t want to believe his girlfriend could have killed herself.

***** Shay opened her eyes to an empty house. The chair across from her sat empty, and only the whir of the refrigerator filled the room. She glanced at the open box on the coffee table and gingerly shifted into a more comfortable position. Kyle had left. Just like that, without saying goodbye or anything, he’d left. She refused to succumb to a pity party. He’d return or he wouldn’t. What they shared certainly had been good, more than good, even hours later her nipples hardened with the memory. But she was an adult. Things happened. She didn’t have to like it. Shay shook her head at her own foolishness. Kyle probably left, most likely to gather information. That sounded far more likely than his desertion. She reached for a small jewelry box set on one end of the table. It’d been Marcy’s favorite. “Oomph.” She tried to pick up the box with one hand, quickly setting it back down. Damn, but the little thing was heavy. She balanced precariously as she picked up the jewelry box with both hands and deposited it in her lap. Opening the lid, the tinny sounds of a music box filled the room. Rings and charms sat in tiny velvet-lined squares. A key hung from a ribbon against the underside of the lid. The tiny containers looked too shallow to be the entire contents of the box. She tried lifting, searched for hidden panels. Nothing. Still, she easily had a thumb’s length of space beneath the bottom of the velvet-lined boxes and the bottom of the jewelry box. Closing the lid, she flipped it over. A small keyhole caught her attention. She righted the box and worked on the tight knot holding the key. At last it fell free, and she unlocked the bottom of the box. A small book slid into her lap. Shay stared at the slim volume. She’d read and reread Marcy’s journals, at least the ones found among jewelry boxes and on a bookshelf with some assorted photo albums. All the journals and books Roger had allowed her to have. Shay shook her head. She hated blaming him, though he seemed a likely culprit. Releasing a held breath, she opened the book. Marcy’s handwriting scrawled across the pages. A bit more blurry, a bit more harried-looking than she was used to seeing, but Marcy’s handwriting nonetheless. Shay read the first entry. Immediately, she knew this wasn’t one of the daily journals kept and read numerous times. Daily chores and recaps gave way to secrets,

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the kind of deep, dark secrets one never uttered in the light of day. Shay glanced at the jewelry box. “This box contains my treasures,” Marcy had said. Shay remembered looking at the cheap costume jewelry inside and wondering why Marcy would feel that way when she had so many other more expensive pieces. Now Shay knew her friend wasn’t talking about the jewelry, but what lay concealed beneath the jewelry. She read, certain she’d find out more about her friend than she ever had guessed.

***** Disheartened by his trip through Roger’s home, Kyle shuffled along the street. He fought the idea of returning to Shay’s house. One moment he walked toward her block, the next he’d turned around, heading back the way he’d come. He balled his hands into fists and pivoted on his heel. “This is stupid,” he muttered. Darkened houses surrounded him on the street. He knew living in the past wouldn’t work. The Fates told him if he accepted their proposition, he’d lose the one he wanted, but find another to save. He dragged his fingers through his hair. It spiked, and he cradled his head in his hands. Bent at the waist, he wheeled around searching for an answer, a way out. He couldn’t. Shay needed him. His cock tightened at the memory of her warm, slick pussy. Wrapped around him, she brought more than release. She made him feel alive. He shook his head and slicked his hair back, then squaring his shoulders, went down Shay’s block. His long strides carried him past darkened houses. Cricket song filled the air. The smell of rain teased his nose, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Energy sizzled along his skin. He adjusted his jeans against the swell of his cock, telling himself the fact he would see Shay had nothing to do with his erection. No, nothing at all. He smiled as he slipped through the garage door, then the door to her kitchen. The sounds of an empty house greeted him. The refrigerator whirred. A clock ticked off the seconds on the wall. A low light shone in the living room. Kyle followed it. Shay sat on the loveseat, a table lamp on behind her. She cradled a slim volume in her hands. Tears trickled down her cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it as she sniffed and turned the page. Padding on silent feet, he stood behind her. He looked over her shoulder and read the scrawling words. Marcy’s words. Kyle’s gone again. I know he does work for the government. His badge says FBI, and he’s talking about catching a bad man, a really bad man. Only I don’t see my Kyle anymore, and he’s changed. I don’t think he’s fighting the criminal. I think he’s joined forces. He mentions money—a lot. As if by having more we’d have more. You know? We could have a house, a dog, 2.4 kids, and the white picket fence. Only I don’t want those things if I can’t have Kyle. He mentioned a French name on the phone. Lu-Marc, I think. Something about drugs, and guns, then he turned and saw me, and he said he’d talk later. I don’t like Sage, his partner. Sage 46

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is too driven, too bound and determined to get this man. I’m afraid he’s going to get my Kyle killed, and then I couldn’t live with that. A muscle jumped in Kyle’s jaw. He knew he’d been a bastard, had thought what he’d be bringing to the relationship would outweigh his absences. Reading Marcy’s words, he knew he’d been wrong. Shay sniffed. She wiped the back of her hand against her eyes. He rested his hands on her shoulders. Beneath his touch, she shuddered. Her breath caught in her throat, quickly released. She stiffened. Kyle kept his hands on her, his fingers light against her skin. After long moments, she relaxed into his touch and turned the page. He figured she noticed he read over her head. He longed to rest his chin against the crown of her head and inhale the scent of her hair. Instead he held himself apart, uncertain she wanted his intrusion. He vowed to remain. He read, more discussions about a supper he’d abandoned after a call on his cell phone. He remembered that night. They’d argued about his attachment to the phone, to his job. Shay turned the page. Kyle didn’t know how much more he could read. He’d stared down the barrel of a gun in the line of his work, but nothing prepared him for seeing Marcy’s heart and soul written in scrawling handwriting on the page. Slowly, he released Shay’s shoulders. He stood there, reading another line, before realizing he shouldn’t be there. He’d hurt Marcy. All he’d do would be to bring pain to Shay. She’d had enough. She didn’t deserve more. His hands hovered over her skin. He couldn’t resist. He trailed his fingers along the line of her jaw, the silky skin of her neck. Then he turned away. He stopped, one pace from her, facing the door. He should go. Something held him back. He longed to hear her voice calling out his name. The need to gather Shay in his arms thrummed through his veins. He didn’t only because he knew she needed someone with more to offer. Shay fought to sort out her jumble of emotions. The man standing behind her had hurt Marcy, hurt her best friend deeply. Marcy’s suspicions most likely were why she was killed. If Marcy hadn’t known Kyle, she wouldn’t have died. Sorrow radiated from him. Even across the room she sensed his grief, his pain. Most likely he never knew how much he’d hurt her. Kyle walked away. She couldn’t bear for him to leave. Without her, he had no one. “Wait.” Her soft whisper stopped him in his tracks. Turning, Shay watched Kyle hover in place, then turn to face her. She licked her lips, a nervous habit, but Kyle’s gaze followed the sweep of her tongue across her bottom lip. A tingle of awareness shot through her. Even knowing everything she did about him, she wanted Kyle. Ghost be damned, his cock felt heavenly sliding into her body. Uncertainty flashed across his gaze.

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Shay shifted her position on the couch, sliding her foot from the pillow cradling it. “Don’t leave.” She closed the journal and laid it on the coffee table. “I don’t—” Her lips tripped over the words. “I don’t want you to go.” She spoke in a rush, afraid she might not be able to say the words he so desperately wanted to hear. “You don’t?” He walked around the coffee table to kneel by her side. He slid his fingers over her bare foot, his touch lingering on the hurt ankle. The delicate caress aroused her. His body, so male, so close to her, only made her more aware of herself as a woman, a fragile one at that. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me.” Kyle closed his eyes. “Marcy died because of me.” “I know.” Her simple declaration hung in the air between them. Reaching out, she cupped Kyle’s chin in her hands. “Look at me. I’m not a shrinking violet. I loved Marcy like a sister, but she was delicate. Damn, you loved her. I shouldn’t probably even be telling you this, but you loved your work. I know it from Marcy’s words, from the way you spoke. It wouldn’t have worked between you and Marcy, no matter how much you both may have wanted it to.” She stopped, afraid her words might be driving him away. Instead, resignation filled Kyle’s gaze. She brushed her thumb over his lips. “I’m so sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.” She blinked away sudden tears. Kyle pulled away. “That’s why I should go.” Shay bolted to her feet. Pain lanced through her ankle. She didn’t care. She grabbed Kyle’s wrist in a fierce grip, keeping him from backing away. “No, that’s why you should stay.” Gritting her teeth, she stepped forward. “They might come after me again.” She refused to fight the fear rising inside her. After reading Marcy’s journal, she knew the secrets Marcy knew. If they attacked her before, undoubtedly they wouldn’t give up. Kyle had saved her once. She might need his help again. “I’m a danger to you. You don’t know what you’re getting into.” He stared at her for a moment then looked away. “If I stay there’s nothing to stop me from touching you again, fucking you again. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?” Shay chuckled. She couldn’t help it. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex? Don’t play that game with me, Kyle. I’m going to win.” She slipped her fingers between two buttons on his shirt, sliding her fingers between his pectorals. “Besides, maybe I want you to touch me again, to fuck me again.” She threw his words back. He needed comfort, affirmation. She could talk to him until she went blue in the face, and she knew he wouldn’t listen. No, she’d speak with Kyle in a different language. “But I’m a ghost.” A muscle ticced in his jaw. Shay knew he searched for reasons to leave. She wouldn’t give him any. “I’m a freak.” He blinked at her. “What?” “I’m a freak,” Shay repeated. “I’m a psychic. I see and talk to spirits. If you’re saying you can’t stay because you’re a ghost, then I’m telling you that you can stay because being a freak trumps being a ghost any day.” She grinned and worked on a 48

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button of his shirt. “I asked you to stay once. If you don’t believe me, I’ll just have to show you.” She rubbed the back of her knuckles against the exposed skin at his throat, swiping down until she caressed him from sternum to navel. Leaning forward, she kissed his collarbone. The tiny pecks quickly turned into laving kisses as she swirled her tongue around his male nipples. She pulled his shirt from his jeans. Her arousal pushed aside all thoughts of her pained ankle as she tugged on one of his flat, hardened nipples. Shay pressed an openmouthed kiss against a scar along his ribs, spending extra attention on the white, puckered skin. The scarred bullet holes in his chest she kissed and suckled, letting him know she wanted all of him—wounds and all. Everyone had wounds. Some were more deadly than others. She didn’t know how he came to be standing in her living room, or even in the cemetery, but she relished his presence. His pain called to hers, something she could understand. Only she’d buried her own so deeply, she thought it long healed. With Kyle she had a chance. If he was a ghost, then surely he didn’t see her as a freak, or if he did, he had to take what he could get. Shay kept her hands above his waist. With his shirt freed from his jeans, she allowed her hands to roam his back. She traced the indentation of his spine, pausing to lavish attention on the puckered scars on his back. The physical reminder of his death shocked her to the core. She paused. Kyle suppressed a groan as Shay’s hands and lips roamed his torso. Closing his eyes, he fought to keep from leaning into her. With her hurt ankle, he should be supporting her, not the other way around. Her lips, so warm and moist against his skin, reminded him of the things he’d lost. His cock throbbed. He should go. Regardless of what Shay said, he should leave. It would be best for both of them. Her tongue dipped into his navel. Shay grabbed his hips as she knelt before him. In his jeans, his cock jumped. “Oh, Shay,” he whispered. He sank his fingers into her hair as she unfastened his jeans. His husky words shot arousal straight to her core. Moisture flooded her pussy. She ached for him. His pain surrounded her, and she wanted to soothe it away with tiny licks of her tongue. As she lowered the zipper on his jeans, he cupped her hair, running the silken strands through his fingers. Shay closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Her hands shook as she shoved his jeans off his hips. Behind his briefs, his cock bulged against cotton fabric. The fact she’d never fucked a ghost before didn’t bother her. Kyle’s soft hisses of delight, his husky moans as she freed him from his underwear, made it worthwhile. And when his hips bucked as she wrapped her lips around him, she smiled.

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Shay tasted him. The salty masculine taste of him only made her want him more. She swirled her tongue around his head, laving the delicate underside. His arousal enhanced her own. To know she gave him pleasure only enhanced her own. She couldn’t hate him, not after reading Marcy’s words. No, he didn’t deserve her wrath. He’d done nothing wrong, at least nothing she could discern, and if Marcy died because of what she knew, then it was only through Roger’s fault for putting her in that situation. Reaching around him, she clenched his hard buttocks, moaning softly around his cock. Her breasts ached, the nipples hardened into tight points. She clenched her vaginal muscles, missing the touch of a man, but this wasn’t about her. It was about Kyle, and how he’d done something so wrong as to get himself killed. “Please,” Kyle pleaded. “Let me.” He reached down to cup his fingers under her chin. Shay leaned back on her heels. Looking up at him, into his gaze that told her he didn’t think he deserved such tenderness, nearly broke her heart. “I want to.” She stroked him with the lightest of caresses, from base to tip, then down again. Gently, she fondled his sac then cupped her fingers around his silken shaft. She loved the feel of him, the strength-wrapped flesh. He shrugged his shirt from his shoulders and it fell silently to the floor. “I can’t stop myself from wanting you.” He shoved his pants and underwear to the floor then kicked them, along with his shoes, off to land in a heap by his shirt. He took her breath away. Looking up at his perfectly formed naked body, Shay forced herself to breathe. His cock stood at attention, begging for her touch. Long, muscular legs and a chest delineated with rippling muscles. He looked like a god come to life. Only the puckered scars from his multiple bullet wounds marred his beauty. Shay rose to her feet, her painful ankle forgotten. She tangled her fingers with his, and when he said nothing, led him to her bedroom. As she walked she tried not to think about the naked ghost following her, concentrating instead on the rush of desire through her veins. This would be her gift to him. Offering her body would offer him solace. Or at least she hoped that’s how it would work. At the door to her bedroom, she turned to him and shed her clothing. She pressed her naked body against his. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiled and blew a soft kiss against his cheek. “Take me.” Against her stomach, his cock jerked. Kyle wrapped his arms around Shay. The two words she spoke went straight to his cock. He lifted her legs around his waist, the brush of her bare sex against him nearly made him push her against the wall and take her right there. No, he’d do it right. She deserved no less. He carried her to the bed then sat down, settling her across his lap. She sprawled against him, breasts flattened against her chest. He splayed a large hand against the small of her back and caressed her soft skin. The soft floral scent of her hair teased his

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nose, and he wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky as to have a chance with this woman. He kissed her, not the hard demanding kiss he wanted, but something softer, more surreal. His lips moved across hers. Gently, he drank from her, tasting her. He slid his tongue across the seal of her lips, coaxing her to open her mouth. Then he delved inside. She tasted like heaven. He touched her as deeply as she touched him, and when he slid his hand over her hips, she spread her legs to straddle him. Shay rose onto her hands, still kissing him. She rubbed her pussy against his cock. Her wetness teased him, and he slid a hand between their bodies. He stroked her folds, until his finger slid inside and he brushed her clit. She shuddered against him. Each tiny undulation hardened his cock even more. He wanted to have her explode. Touching her tormented him with something he could never have, but if he could offer her a glimpse of heaven, an earth-shattering release, then he would give her everything he had. He caressed her clit with the pad of his thumb, loving her little murmurs against his lips. She arched her hips and begged for more.

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Chapter Six Shay refused to censor her wanton behavior. Kyle’s talented fingers stroked her clit, each touch driving her higher and higher. She spiraled, her body coiling tighter and tighter. Leaning forward, she brushed her breasts against his chest. The rasp of his chest hair against her sensitive nipples coaxed tiny whimpers from her throat. She kissed him. She devoured him. Her tongue delved into his mouth, tasting, coaxing. She wanted to eat him from the inside out. His pain called to her, demanded she ease it, and if the caress of her tongue and slide of her body could do it, she’d gladly oblige. Her fingers fisted on the comforter. He reached around her, stroking her back. His hand curved around ribs and slid up to cup a breast. A flicker of his fingers over her nipples, her clit. Her release slammed through her. Shay pulled her lips away and sucked in gulps of air as her body convulsed. Through half-lidded eyes she saw Kyle’s masculine grin of satisfaction, then his hands wrapped around her waist. He lifted her over his hard cock. “I can’t wait.” Slowly, inch by exquisite inch, he sheathed himself inside her. Shay held Kyle’s gaze as he lowered her onto his body. The raw, masculine passion evident in his gaze moved her. At last their bodies sat flush. Shay wanted to capture the moment in her mind. Kyle’s hands lazily moved over her lower back, her sides, until he reached up and cupped her breasts again. Shay held herself for as long as she could, then she began to move. The slow, silken slide of his cock nearly undid her, as did Kyle’s soft moans and husky sighs. “Damn, woman, you’re good.” Kyle tweaked her nipples. Shay moaned. She closed her eyes as her arousal built, coiling tight and low in her stomach. She wanted to fuck him hard, to feel the hard length of him pistoning into her body. Not yet. Giving him pleasure, showing him she wanted him, probably needed him, remained foremost in her mind. She increased the pace of her thrusts. “You don’t know how good I can be,” she replied. She gave a little twist of her hips that had him calling her name. He grabbed her hips. “You’re going to kill me, again!” Closing his eyes, Kyle arched his body into hers. The demand for more had her smiling. In spite of Kyle’s direction, she kept her own pace and rhythm. This one would be for him. She wanted to make him come so hard he forgot who he was. Then, with a coy smile, he feathered his fingers through the hair above where their bodies were joined and lower, until he touched her clit. Shay screamed. Release pounded through her hard and fast. She fought to catch her breath as Kyle took over. He slammed into her body, exactly as she wanted, angling his thrusts so he brushed past her G-spot with each stroke. Again and again he pounded 52

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into her body, until she clenched around him again, and his name was a sigh on her lips. Beneath her, he stiffened. “Shay! Oh God! Shay!” he cried out as he came. Shay held on, not wanting to topple onto him. As the last ripples subsided, she leaned forward and sprawled next to him, a smile on her face. Kyle looked at the woman lying next to him. She’d given so much more than her body. He felt it in every cell of his being. Lightly, he stroked her brown hair, her arm, anything to keep the connection between them. “That was wonderful.” He pressed his lips to her temple. She needed to know the truth. Damn it, but he hadn’t wanted to tell her. He wanted to save her life and then get the hell out of it. But now, holding her, he knew she had a right to know who he was and what he did. Reading Marcy’s journals wouldn’t give her enough information about him. Kyle rose onto an elbow and pressed his lips to her forehead. This would be harder than he thought. “Marcy’s journal didn’t tell you the complete truth about me.” He bit his lip, afraid of how she’d react. She turned onto her side and nodded. “I suspected as much.” He read wariness in her eyes, but also interest. She didn’t move to cover her nakedness. Instead, she waited for him to tell his story. Kyle nodded. “I loved Marcy.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Damn, this is hard to say, especially after what we shared, but you have to know. I did more than work for the FBI. In the end, I worked against it.” She stiffened. “I didn’t want to, but Marcy and I couldn’t get ahead on my salary. She deserved so much. We spent Saturdays house-hunting, going to all the open houses. After we’d get home, she’d cry. I would comfort her, but deep down I knew things would have to change, even for us to get into a starter home. Then the criminal my partner Sage and I tracked made me an offer. Work for him, turn over some documents, and I wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.” He stifled a rough chuckle. “Yeah, I didn’t. Because my partner Sage shot me as I handed the documents over to Lu-Marc. I shot him too.” Shay gasped. “He found someone. I don’t know how he did it, or why, but he connected with a woman. They’re in love. He’s got a good life, or I hope he has a good life now. I heard he got a body and lives as normal as you, or anyone.” “You did it for Marcy, though.” Shay’s soft voice cut across his words. “You did what you did for Marcy.” Kyle nodded. “For the woman I loved I turned traitor to my country. It’s not the smartest decision I ever made, but it was my decision. Marcy didn’t know anything 53

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about it, though I think she suspected something was up. I wouldn’t do it again. I know now if Marcy loved me she would have been happy with an apartment, with our lives the way they were. I know that now.” He leveled his gaze at her. Shay shivered. Her hand shook as she reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “I know. I gathered some of it from Marcy’s journal. You filled in the blanks. We’ve all done things in our past that aren’t the brightest. But I appreciate your telling me.” She scooted off the bed and limped to her walk-in closet. A few moments later she emerged dressed in a robe and saw Kyle had moved to stand next to the bed. “Know this, Kyle. Whatever happened in the past, it’s the past. One thing I’ve learned from talking to spirits is that you can’t change what happened. You can only change the future.” Kyle moved as she pulled back the covers. He waited by the bed, uncertain of what to do. “Will you hold me for a while?” Kyle nodded. “I’d be honored.” As he slipped into bed beside her and wrapped his body around hers, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

***** Shay woke to an empty bed. She lay in the tangled covers. Kyle’s touch lingered on her skin, the scent of him still on her sheets. Rolling over, she stretched her hand across the empty expanse of the bed and found the covers cool. He’d left some time ago, though in the harsh light of day, she wondered whether he’d emit any heat to warm the covers to begin with. With her he felt so warm, so alive, but now, as she sat up in bed and tucked the sheet around her breasts, she couldn’t deny she’d slept with a ghost. A freak. The word hurtful children used to hurl at her crashed back into her mind. Like the little kid in the movie, she saw dead people. No matter how hard she pushed them out of her life, her clairvoyant talents rose to the surface to dispel her sense of normalcy. Shay sighed. Lying around in bed wouldn’t get her anywhere. She swung her legs over the edge and rose to her feet, glad her ankle only twinged a little as she stood. On her way to the bathroom she promised herself she’d shove her morose thoughts from her mind. It didn’t work. She stood before the mirror, a towel wrapped around her, and stared. The woman looking back at her didn’t appear to be anyone she knew. Fucked by a ghost—twice. Her best friend had been in love with a traitor to her country. And she didn’t know how she felt about Kyle. Shay brushed her teeth and ducked away from the mirror, half afraid of what she might find in the dark brown eyes staring back at her. Shay forced herself not to think about Kyle as she dressed and ate breakfast. Outside, birds chirped in the trees, and the sun shone in a nearly cloudless sky. The beautiful day mocked her inner worries. Deep inside, she knew she wouldn’t find peace, not yet. 54

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Kyle still hadn’t returned. His departure worried her, though only a little. His life away from her seemed so distant, so remote she couldn’t fathom what activities he’d do when he was away. He talked about finding Marcy’s killer. How much did he know? What methods did he employ? Questions swirled in her mind, devoid of answers. Clarity and space called to her. Grabbing her purse, she decided to visit Marcy’s grave. The pain in her ankle reminded her of her last visit. Shay shoved the thoughts from her mind. Those men may have been after her, but she refused to hide in her home like a scared little rabbit. Let them come. She’d meet them swinging. A few moments later she backed her car out of the garage and drove. The mundane action removed the last traces of her worry. The sun shone, and she wasn’t as naïve as she was on her last visit. If the bad guys returned, she’d be ready. Shay parked in the same parking spot she had yesterday. The symmetry wasn’t lost on her as she shoved her purse over her shoulder, checked her car, then opened the door and stepped outside. She locked her doors, hoping she wouldn’t have to make a run for it, and walked through the deserted cemetery to Marcy’s grave. No ghosts bothered her. No mourners knelt before cold headstones in grief. Even the birds quieted as she neared the flat stone marking Marcy’s grave. Shay knelt. She exhaled, unsure how to tell her best friend she’d fucked Kyle. “You loved him, Marcy,” Shay said. She shook her head as she knelt, hands clasped in her lap. “We both knew it would end badly. That he tried to do things for you, and you were never happy with what you had. Even Roger saw that, toward the end. So why is it so hard to say that in his death, he’s touched me more than he touched you.” She blinked rapidly to dispel the tears pooling in her eyes. Betrayal stabbed through her. Had anyone done to her what she’d done to Marcy, she’d kill the bitch. So long as she had breath in her body and the strength to love someone, no one would come between her and the man she loved. No one. Not even her best friend. With Marcy dead, it was as if she died loving Kyle, and she knew Kyle died loving Marcy. Who was she to intervene, except as Marcy’s very much alive best friend with possible information on why Marcy was murdered? Shay barked a hoarse laugh. “It’s not like I love him,” she muttered. Then wondered why she got this white-hot bolt of jealousy when she thought of Marcy being with him and not appreciating his sacrifices. “He’s surely no knight in shining armor. His actions before he died confirmed that.” Putting on rose-colored glasses as this stage in their relationship would only lead to heartbreak. A tear trickled over her cheek. “What if you died not because of what you knew about Kyle, but what you knew about Roger?” Shay sat back on her heels, startled by her own revelation. “What if that’s how it really happened?” Shay glanced over her shoulder to confirm she remained alone. Lovingly, she ran her hand over the cool marble headstone. “You’re dead, Marcy. I haven’t seen you, so you must have passed on to whatever afterlife awaits you. You wouldn’t want Kyle to

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remain alone, would you?” Shay sucked in a breath. “But what happens to him when he finds out how and why you died? Will he pass over too?” She shuddered at the thought and wondered how much of her heart she’d already given this wounded warrior.

***** Kyle stopped. Partially hidden by a large tree, he watched Shay weep over Marcy’s grave. Her whispered words, half-formed assumptions and questions, drifted to his ears. He should run. Being with Shay would only lead to more heartache, only she had a right to know why Marcy died. The attack confirmed her danger. He wanted to hustle her inside and wrap her away from the harsh eyes of her attackers. She spoke of an afterlife. Kyle pressed a hand against the tree, the bark rough against his fingers. The Fates brought him back to save a life. Once his mission ended, he didn’t know what would happen. Probably dragged off to some indescribable hell, he imagined. After all, with everything he’d done, he certainly didn’t deserve heaven. Shay swallowed hard and rocked back on her heels. She stared at the headstone for long moments then glanced behind her. Worry radiated from her in waves. Her fingers drummed nervously against her denim-clad thigh, and a small bead of perspiration dotted the back of her neck. Kyle stepped forward. Shay looked up. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened into a perfect “o”. Obviously, she hadn’t expected him to hear some of the things she said. Purposefully he stepped forward until he stood by Marcy’s headstone. He knelt beside Shay and closed his hand around her shoulder. “Kyle,” she acknowledged. She opened her mouth to say more then closed it. “I, um, didn’t see you standing there.” “I just arrived. I was returning to your place and thought I’d take a detour.” He gestured to the grave marker. “I see you beat me here.” Shay nodded. “It felt like the right thing to do.” She sat, stretching her legs out beside the headstone. With a heavy sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair, and looked up at him. “We have so many questions and not nearly enough answers.” Kyle nodded. He reached out and brushed his thumb across her full lower lip. He longed to draw it into his mouth and suck on it until she pulled him closer. Glancing down at her legs, he envied the denim material for being so close to her skin. His cock hardened, and he shifted to try and ease some of the pain. Now wasn’t the time for seduction. The idea he might have a limited time with her hammered in his mind and demanded he take her while he could. Kyle forced himself to dismiss the need humming inside him. “What if you weren’t the reason why Marcy died?” The pain in her features nearly broke Kyle’s heart. “What if it was Roger?”

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Kyle swallowed hard. Carrying around all that guilt, and for nothing, if it proved he wasn’t the reason why Marcy died. He closed his eyes, trying to get a handle on his raging emotions. To know she died because of who she met after his death absolved him of his part in her death. Only if he hadn’t died, then neither would she. “Roger seemed like a banker. I doubt he’d be involved with anything that would get Marcy killed.” He refused to believe it was suicide. “It’s a possibility.” “Yeah, it is.” He wondered if Shay wanted to clear his name of some of the charges against it. “But I’m not innocent. If I hadn’t done what I did, if I hadn’t died, then Marcy probably wouldn’t be dead either.” Shay sniffed. The sheen of tears in her eyes revealed her battle with grief. “I know.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “I was just thinking out loud.” Kyle pulled her close to him. Her curves pressed against him, fitting against his side. He sat down on the grass, careful not to rest his feet on the headstone. That would be disrespectful to Marcy, and although he sat at her grave with another woman in his arms, a woman with whom he’d made love, he thought somehow she’d understand. They both needed to move on. “We really should get you back to your house.” Shay looked around. Fear replaced grief in her eyes, and Kyle hated himself for putting it there. “If you think we should, but I really like it out here.” She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to him. His body tightened. He struggled to calm his unruly cock and focused on checking their surroundings for anyone who might wish harm on Shay. With the breeze ruffling his hair and the chirp of birds overhead, the idyllic day seemed immune to such bleak thoughts. The smell of grilling meat filled the air, and Kyle dared not count the years it’d been since he had a nice, juicy steak. Shay’s hand traced a leisurely path along his thigh. Her light caresses filled his mind with images of Shay beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist. The featherlight touches sent arrows of heat through his body. He laid his hand over hers, stilling it. She looked up at him with wide-eyes. “You don’t want me to touch you?” A trace of hurt filled her voice. “I want you to touch me very much.” Unable to resist her, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “But we’re in public, and I’m supposed to be watching out for your safety.” She nodded as if she understood, but Kyle sensed a reluctance in her. “I guess that makes sense,” she said at last. Turning to him, she reached up and ran her hand over his cheek. “Why don’t you take me somewhere where you can touch me?” “Are you sure?” Kyle gestured to the gravestone. He wanted to take her up on her offer, but after all they’d done, and all he’d said, he knew he should give her space and time, even though he didn’t really want to. After all, she was an adult, and surely knew exactly what she needed. 57

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Shay smiled. “I’m sure. It’s crazy, I know. You’re a ghost, and loved Marcy. Plus there’s your background to consider, but I can’t get enough of you. For once, let me have this illusion of nothing standing in our way. Let’s not worry about Marcy’s death or what might have caused it. Your past. None of it exists for us right now.” She tempted him. What harm could there be in going back to her house and making love for a few hours? He rose to his feet then helped her stand. Once on her feet, he pulled her to him, slanting his mouth across hers. He kissed her, hard and greedy. He drank from her, drawing her essence into his body as if it alone had the power to keep him alive. What might happen in the future, whatever happened in the past, none of it mattered. His hands roamed her back, pressing her lush curves against his hard frame. The woman in his arms—she was all that mattered. At last she broke the kiss. Tangling her fingers with his, she drew him toward the car.

***** Shay’s stomach flip-flopped. Kyle sat in the passenger seat with his hand casually resting on her thigh. In her chest, her heart pounded. The devil-may-care attitude that had gripped her in the cemetery faded away under the harsh reality of driving back to her place. She sat at a green light a moment longer than necessary. Behind her, a car honked its horn, and Shay sped forward. Someday soon Kyle would finish his mission and return to whatever afterlife from whence he came. She knew this fact as well as she knew her own name. Spending years talking to ghosts gave her a good insight into what happened when a soul passed on. The option to walk the earth forever never even appeared at the table. What kind of afterlife he might have, she didn’t know. She didn’t have that much information, especially since those she spoke with were still on the earthly plane. But there most definitely was an afterlife, and Kyle would ascend. Precious moments ticked by as she parked the car and entered her house. Kyle followed on her heels. Once inside, she pressed Kyle against the door and kissed him. Today, tomorrow, the next minute, none of it mattered except for the feel of Kyle’s firm lips beneath hers. She braced her weight against him, rolling her hips to pin him between her and the wall. With both arms braced on either side of his head, she leaned against him. His solid strength pressed against her body, and her pussy clenched at the primal sensation. She didn’t ask, she gave. Her tongue swept along his lower lip and she nibbled slightly until he granted her entrance to his mouth. Shay tasted him, savoring the swipe of his tongue along hers, his flavor dark and forbidden. A moan rumbled in his chest. Her body clenched around the sound, her pussy achingly empty. Need poured through her body. She wanted to take him hard and fast, a quick fuck up against the wall. Fast or slow didn’t matter to her, though she suspected it mattered to Kyle. He reached for her, his hands settling on her hips. He kissed her back with a

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breathless ardor that told her he, too, didn’t care about the future. He didn’t even know if he had one. Hungrily, his lips moved across hers, tasting, drinking, as if the touch of their lips could seal them together forever. His hand curved over her backside and he pressed her into the hard length of his cock. Shay shuddered. Oh Goddess, he felt so wonderful, the virile length of him pressed against her stomach. She pulled her lips away and moaned, a husky, deep sound that had her sliding her hand along his side so she could grab his ass. “Shay, sweetheart, we’ve got to slow down.” His whispered words came in between fevered kisses. “Why?” Shay opened the buttons on his shirt, replacing her fingers with her lips. She kissed and nibbled her way over his chest, pausing to lave each nipple with her tongue. Damn, but he tasted good. As she dropped to her knees before him, she mewled hungrily and worked on his jeans. His hips bucked. One snap, and the rasp of a zipper and his cock surged through the opening. “Yes,” she whispered as she slid him free from his briefs. His musky aroma filled her nose and she inhaled it deeply, never wanting to forget his scent. Shay leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the bulbous head. She drew his length into her mouth and hollowed out her cheeks as she sucked. With her tongue, she licked the underside. A quick taste of his slit then long strokes that had him fucking her mouth. Oh yeah, this is gonna be good.

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Chapter Seven Kyle gripped the back of her head, holding her still while he fucked her mouth. Shay’s talented tongue and lips worked his cock. She stroked the vein along the underside, using her tongue to place pressure on the sensitive area just behind the head. She cupped his balls and rolled them gently in her soft hands. Her gentle touch nearly undid him. Already, he felt his sac tightening, that particular tingle starting at the base of his spine. “God, yes,” he groaned when she lightly scraped him with her teeth. Shay closed her fingers around the base of him, staving off his imminent orgasm. She pulled back and smiled. Desire filled her eyes, desire and a sense of feminine power. “Not yet, baby.” She blew on him lightly, the warm breath against his moist skin making him shiver. Then she wrapped her lips around him and sucked some more. Her hands moved from his balls to his ass, clenching the firm muscle to shove him deep into her throat. As she deep-throated him, he thought he might die from the pleasure. Only he’d already died. Damn it, he didn’t care. Heaven. Hell. Who knew what really existed at the end of life? The sensual dance of her lips upon his flesh drove thoughts from his mind, and all he knew was he wanted to be right here, right now, with his cock buried deeply in some part of the woman before him. Shay touched him more than anyone had before. It scared him. At last she sat back on her heels and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. Slowly, she licked her lips, the tiny pink tongue sliding over her full lower lip. “You taste good,” she said as she rose to her feet. A few moments later, she stood naked before him. “And I’m not done with you yet.” It was so easy to put himself in Shay’s talented hands. She eased his clothing from him, not seeming to mind that it floated invisibly down to the floor. Then she wrapped her hands around his shoulders and walked him backwards. At the kitchen table she stopped, hopped up on it, thighs spread wide. He looked his fill, from her breasts topped by wide, cherry nipples, down over her flat stomach. Her neatly trimmed bush caught his gaze, and if he’d had a heart it would have stopped at the image of her plump, pink pussy glistening with arousal. He wanted to fuck her. Hard and fast. A pounding rhythm of cock into pussy, the steady sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Clenching his fists, he struggled to gain control. Shay wrapped her lips around her index finger and sucked on it. Kyle growled. He stood, transfixed, as she traced a route from collarbone to breast. Head thrown back, she circled a nipple. Her tiny gasps and moans telegraphed her need to him. She plucked her nipples. His lips parted. Oh, to suck on one, to draw it so deeply into his mouth that his cheeks hollowed, would be sublime.

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Shay winked as she drew her finger down on her stomach and into the curls covering her sex. He wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking lightly. “I’m so wet for you, Kyle.” Her husky voice shot straight to his groin. “Sucking your cock makes me horny.” Her blunt words heightened his arousal. His Shay, so pure, so sweet, saying such naughty things, made him think of how her pussy would fist around his cock, so warm and tight. He’d pound her until she screamed his name, and then he’d fuck her some more. Kyle stepped forward. Shay delved a finger between her dewy folds. Her sharp inhalation filled the kitchen. “Fuck me, Kyle. Fuck me!” She pumped her finger into her channel, using her thumb to massage her clit. Kyle rushed forward. He grabbed her hips, hauling her flush with his body. Her creamy fingers wrapped around his biceps as he rubbed the head of his cock against her. “Oh yes,” she whimpered. “Yes!” He brushed his cock along her length, coating it with her juices. He paused at her entrance. “You want this?” he growled. He thrust into her, just the tip of him inside her. Pulling strength reserves he never knew he had, he remained poised. Shay buried her head against his shoulder. “Yes.” She jerked her hips, trying to pull him deeper into her body. “Please.” Kyle wasn’t ready to give up control just yet. Reaching between their bodies, he rubbed his fingers against her clit. Shay shrieked. She shuddered against him, her creamy juices bathing his fingers in her sweet-smelling come. Her climax pounded through her body, and a fierce masculine pride filled him. He’d made her come like that. Him! A ghost made her scream her release! “Oh, baby,” he whispered into her hair. He slid into her. Her moan of pleasure filled his ears and made him smile. He stood there buried within her and tried not to think about tomorrow. All they had was the approaching night, this moment, for he never knew when his mission would be accomplished and he’d be sent wherever. Wrapping his arms around her, he withdrew slowly then surged forward. Shay tightened around him, and he was lost. He thrust into her, his body knowing nothing except for the velvet warmth wrapping his cock. Shay met him thrust for thrust, taking him deeper each time. Her breathy cries mingled with his groans and the wet slap of bodies filled the room. He smelled sex. Sex and Shay. A heady combination that had his balls tightening against his body. She gasped, his name spilling from her in a long, keening wail. Kyle shuddered as she contracted around him, each one harder than the last. He growled and surged forward as he came. Her body pulsed around him as he held her

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tightly against him. His cock twitched, releasing his seed inside her, and Kyle thought he’d never felt anything as beautiful. At last she settled against his chest. He wished he dared carry her to the bedroom. Instead, he stood there, his arms wrapped around this woman, and wondered again why anyone would want to hurt her, or Marcy.

***** Armond leaned forward and pinned the rat of a man sitting before his desk with a harsh glare. Roger fancied himself a crime lord, but in Armond’s eyes he was only a pissant with no prospects. Completely misleading, even the banking contacts he claimed were at some regional bank that didn’t even have offices outside of the Midwest. He fought against the growl rising in his throat. Instead, he thought of the many ways he could kill Roger without anyone knowing. Just the knowledge calmed him, and he leaned back in his chair. “So you’re no closer to finding out what she knows, are you?” He glanced at the two men standing on either side of the door. Armond still hadn’t forgotten their failure at apprehending one tiny little psychic. “No, sir. It’s starting to appear as if she doesn’t have any information at all. Whatever Marcy knew died with her.” Roger’s voice shook only a little, and Armond fought against the smile creeping across his face at the tiny show of weakness. Having Roger scared served his purposes right now, especially since he wanted to take the first flight back to France and go back to his beloved Europe. These silly Midwesterners knew nothing of crime, which he supposed was what made them so appealing, like innocent lambs being led to slaughter. “And no further information on the ‘help’ she received? Really, Roger, I thought you’d try harder.” Above his tie, Roger’s face reddened. He swallowed hastily. “Sir, I assure you, my men are working on it.” “Well, they’re apparently not working hard enough. Luckily for you I have some information that will prove most helpful. It seems that an associate of an associate might have resurfaced. I will let you know any pertinent information.” Armond leaned back in his chair and opened a desk drawer, pulling out a box of Cuban cigars. He snipped the end and lit one, inhaling the pungent aroma. Roger struggled not to cough. “I trust you’ll give me the information I need to know.” He reminded Armond of a petulant little boy, and wondered why he even invited him into his confidence, not to mention his home. This office in an exclusive high-rise served as a base to meet people, nothing more. Still, the Italian leather of the chairs, the teak desk, even the original painting hanging on the wall delicately attested to Armond’s wealth. He preferred understated elegance, not like this minnow who thought himself a shark. 62

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“If that’s everything, Armond, I have a four o’clock golf appointment.” Roger glanced at his watch. “I would hate to be late.” Armond flashed a cold smile. “I’m sure you would. It would make a bad impression, wouldn’t it?” He glanced at the two men and admired their stoic façades. He wondered if they knew he could kill Roger before they had a chance to save him. Probably not, but then again if they did it would spoil the fun. “You will get me the information I need, or you’ll be lying right next to your fiancée. Have a good time on the links.” He turned his attention to the ledger sitting on his desk and tried not to chuckle as Roger scurried from the room like a scared rabbit. Kyle lay flat in the ventilation shaft, straining to hear the conversation happening below him. The vent a few inches in front of him led directly into Armond’s office. Shivers darted down Kyle’s spine. That cultured voice with an accent sounded too familiar to be comfortable. Not Lu-Marc’s smooth tones, no, these were a little deeper, a little more resonant, but the two voices sounded enough alike to be disconcerting. He racked his brain, trying to think of where or when he might have met the man. The open threat to Roger startled Kyle. Used to Lu-Marc’s bold moves, the direct threat seemed too crass to belong to one of his cronies. No, this man might have stepped in to fill the vacuum in the crime world that Lu-Marc left, but Kyle doubted the two men worked side-by-side. Lu-Marc worked with no one, and Sage had killed LuMarc. An associate of an associate. Armond’s words ran through Kyle’s mind, and he wondered if Armond knew about his work with Lu-Marc. Kyle dismissed the notion. Even if Armond knew, to the world Kyle died the same night as his boss. Unless he had the same abilities Lu-Marc had, the ability to see the dead, he wouldn’t know anything about ghosts. Kyle fought to remain still. The slightest movement would rattle the ventilation shaft and send noise into the offices below. Roger left, most likely to try and dig up more information about Marcy. Kyle frowned. He refused to dismiss the bungling self-styled crime lord, and besides, he might have more information necessary to protect Shay. Movement bustled below him, and not just from corporeal humans. A chill settled over Kyle. He stared, transfixed, as two muscle-types, both alive, and four ghost soldiers entered the room. Damn it, Armond could see them. He suppressed the urge to scurry backwards and away from another man just like Lu-Marc. Hadn’t Lu-Marc gotten him killed not once, but twice? Surely Armond could do the same. Shay’s image filled his mind. She turned to him, eyes wide with fright, her silent body language demanding he protect her. Then she wrapped her arms around him and fucked him like there was no tomorrow. He wouldn’t give up—not until he saved Shay. Then she could live her normal life and he could go on to wherever ghosts went once

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they finished their duties. The thought twisted his heart. He didn’t expect a body. Sage earned one but he’d proved he was the better man. Lost in his thoughts, he nearly missed Armond’s barked orders. Thankfully, they involved Roger, not Shay, and Kyle gently eased himself away from the vent. Time to go home and tell Shay what he feared. His past had killed Marcy and now threatened her life.

***** Kyle’s dark mood failed to clear by the time he returned to Shay’s house. He found her in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies. Had he been living, he knew his stomach would have rumbled at the heavenly smell. As it was, his mouth watered and he remembered what it meant to have a body and be able to enjoy food. Steaks, cookies, pies, even the delicious joy of eating an ice-cream cone before it melted on a hot summer day. Shay could enjoy those things. He couldn’t, and it only served to remind him how much of a gulf lay between them. He knew he could stand in her kitchen and watch her all day. She moved with easy efficiency, pulling out a full cookie sheet to set it on the counter to cool. The apron tied around her waist only served to highlight the curve of her hip. Floured fingerprints curled toward the rear of her jeans, making him think she stood there, hands on her hips, staring at something, or thinking. “Mind if I use your phone?” Kyle asked. Shay jumped, whirling to face him with a guilty look on her face. “You scared me.” She glanced back at the counter. “Never mind me, I’m just baking some cookies. Not that I need them…” She shrugged and her voice trailed off. “It’s good to indulge yourself every once in a while.” His gaze followed the flour stains on her shirt, down to the apron tied around her waist. Just knowing what lay beneath the layers of cotton and denim made his cock tighten. “I have to call someone who might be able to help us with the situation. It’s long distance. I hope you don’t mind.” He didn’t mention that he had no means with which he could pay her back. “That’s fine. I’ll just be finishing up in here.” She turned back to her cookies and started removing the now-cooled morsels from the pan. Kyle watched her for a long moment, certain she acted out of nervousness. But what did she have to be nervous about? Had something happened? The thought of Armond’s or Roger’s goons coming anywhere near her made him clench his fists. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Did something happen?” he asked. “Did those guys come after you again?” Not looking at him, Shay shook her head. “No, why do you ask?” She scraped the bowl with her spoon, placing the last few dollops of dough on the cookie sheet. Her quick, efficient movements only underscored his concern.

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“Nothing. Just want to make sure.” Kyle studied her a moment longer, then deciding she would talk in due time, turned and strode into the living room. While he’d been researching information on Shay’s attackers, he decided a little delving into his past was in order. Luckily, Sage and Teri’s phone number proved easy to find. Picking up the handset, he dialed. The phone rang once. Kyle swallowed hard. How would his old partner react to his calling? It wasn’t like they ended on good terms, though he thought he’d started to redeem himself. Kyle snorted. Yeah right, who the hell did he think he was kidding? The phone rang again, and he fought the urge to hang up and forget about calling in Sage, but damn it, he needed the information about Lu-Marc, and Armond. Surely Sage had more information on the two men than he had, for Kyle knew he only worked on the inside. On the third ring someone answered. “Hello.” Sage’s terse voice floated across the phone line. “Sage? Sage Kaimoon.” Kyle fought the trembling in his hands. He’d never been as scared in his life as he was at this moment. “Is it really you?” “In the flesh.” Sage chuckled at his own joke. He spoke to someone in the background, a hand over the mouthpiece muffling the words. “It’s me, Kyle.” He waited a heartbeat while he heard deafening silence on the other end of the line. “Kyle’s dead. Whoever you are, you’re not Kyle. Who are you?” “I’m the guy who saved your ass with Captain Bennet on our first field maneuver outing. I’m the one who brought you home after you drank too much at Bill Danglor’s bachelor party,” Kyle said. “Look, whatever the hell Lu-Marc was involved with, I think he had help. Marcy’s dead.” He waited for a rush of grief that didn’t come. “Her best friend is in danger, and if I told you how I got here you wouldn’t believe me. I just need information.” “You still a ghost?” Sage expelled a harsh breath. “Yeah. I doubt after all I’ve done, I’ll get much more than a kick in the ass once this is all over with.” Kyle glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen but Shay continued to work on her baking. “Look, there’s this guy, Armond, and he seems to be working with Marcy’s ex-fiancé. I need to know if he has any ties to Lu-Marc, or had any ties. That’s all I need to know.” A long pause filled the air. Finally, Sage spoke. “I don’t recall an Armond but my investigation focused pretty heavily into Lu-Marc. Why don’t you call Allen? If nothing else, you might need his services.” Kyle barked a harsh laugh. “I told ya, Sage, I won’t be getting a body. Not like you, man. Fuck, I turned on the agency. I got you killed. Now it seems I got the woman I loved killed, and I’m close to getting another one murdered. I was dying, ready to go on to whatever awaits us after this life, and it was only fate that kept me from going. I can’t get too attached, or even think about the possibility of having a body.” His gut twisted. 65

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“But I’ll call Allen. Look. Let me give you this number.” He glanced at the handset and rattled it off. “Shay was Marcy’s best friend. She’s in danger right now, and if something happens I want you to have the number.” “All right.” Sage sighed. He gave him Allen’s contact information then added, “Stay safe.” “I’m trying. If something happens I can’t imagine I’ll be saved yet again. And thanks, buddy. Thanks for not hanging up on me. If I could do anything to reverse what I did, well, let’s just say I would. Take care.” Kyle hung up the phone and stared at the number scrawled on the memo pad. Allen’s number offered more than information about Lu-Marc. It offered hope, and that was something Kyle couldn’t afford right now. With a smile, he turned back toward the kitchen, and wondered if he could convince Shay to eat some chocolate chip cookies for him so he could kiss the taste from her lips. He frowned. He shouldn’t be thinking about such things, because he’d end up hurting them both when he left.

***** Shay didn’t know whether she should go look for Kyle or not. Curled up in bed with Marcy’s journals stacked beside her, she combed through them looking for anything that might lead to information about the men who attacked her. Since that day in the cemetery she hadn’t seen a sign of them and frankly was beginning to doubt Kyle’s concern for her safety. After all, it seemed silly thinking about it in the light of day that someone would want to kill her for what she knew about her dead best friend. Dragging her fingers through her hair, Shay stared at the handwritten scribbles in the diary. Dutifully, she read each entry, hoping beyond hope that something might shed a light on why she was murdered. Shay brushed her hair away from her eyes and took a sip of water from the glass sitting on the nightstand. She refused to believe Marcy committed suicide. If she did, then who attacked her and why? Too many questions and not enough answers. Swallowing hard, she turned the page. Marcy spoke of a Saturday spent searching for houses. They’d stopped in an expensive mansion, wandering through it like they had the money to buy it. A quickie in the closet had Marcy gushing over what it would be like if the house really had been theirs. Shay blinked back the unexpected sting of tears. Marcy had loved Kyle. Oh, she could malign her best friend all she wanted. Yes, Marcy had expensive tastes, and in the long run, Shay suspected Kyle would never have been happy with her best friend. But at that moment, Marcy had loved Kyle, and from Marcy’s words Kyle loved her. A lump formed in Shay’s chest. She tried to shove her thoughts to other things, tried to keep them on the real reason why she read the diaries. Not to eavesdrop on her friend’s life, but to find out why she died.

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What would it be like to be loved by Kyle? His passionate, protective nature warmed her, made her feel cherished like she hadn’t felt in a long time. A shadow moved across the door. Shay jumped, hand pressed to her chest. Her heart pounded. The shadow moved again and this time she recognized it as Kyle. Even now he stood protectively outside her door, not venturing inside. From the stiff set of his shoulders and his measured paces, she suspected he did his job—nothing more. She opened her mouth to call out to him. He moved away from the door. Shay turned her attention back to the books. Shay tried to read, but couldn’t shake the feeling someone watched her. Looking up from the diary, she saw Kyle standing in the doorway again. He looked worried. “Is everything okay?” She dog-eared the page in the book and laid it next to her on the bed. Kyle nodded then shook his head. “I think we’re dealing with more than I thought.” He slid his hands into his pockets and slouched against the doorframe, a completely masculine gesture. “I think Roger’s tied in to the investigation I was on when I died. I’m not sure how, but I think Roger’s hooked up with one of Lu-Marc’s old friends. If that’s the case then you’re in even more trouble than before. I don’t want you leaving without me going with you.” Shay frowned. Kyle’s words scared her yet at the same time she refused to be a prisoner in her own home. “You can’t mean to follow me everywhere? Even to the grocery store?” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.” Kyle stepped forward with long, mean strides. “Believe it. I can’t even begin to tell you half the things that Lu-Marc did. That’s all classified. The man Roger is working with is just as bad, if not worse. I don’t have any proof of anything, and neither did Sage. But I’ll get it. In the meantime, I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Shay sucked in a breath and turned toward him. “I’ll be careful. But you can’t keep me prisoner.” “Can’t I?” His eyes lit up, and in their depths Shay saw hunger. An image flashed across her mind, of her bound and helpless, his to command. She shivered and wondered whether he’d try. Just thinking about it sent a rush of heat through her body. She licked her lips, noticing Kyle’s eyes following every movement. “I, um, suppose you could try,” she said and grinned. He grinned back. “That might be kind of fun…” He paused for a moment. “But I’ll leave you on the honor system for now.” He stepped back and immediately Shay felt a wall between them. “All right.” She couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as he turned and walked away. Watching him go, she wondered if he had the same doubts about their relationship as she did.

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Chapter Eight Armond pressed his palms flat on the desk and glared at the two soldiers sitting across from him. He’d ceased dealing with Roger’s bumbling idiots after their last meeting, and although he met these men in the same high-rise office building, they had no part of Roger’s failing schemes. “What do you mean you think you have information on who ShayLynn’s protector was? How can you think? Why don’t you know?” Sucking in a deep breath he resisted the urge to yell. Over the years, he’d found yelling did little good. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re just now getting the information.” Dag operated as his captain. Anything that went on with Armond’s men, Dag orchestrated. He led and he followed orders well—two traits he liked in his officers. The younger man struggled not to flinch under Armond’s piercing glare. Edward had recently joined their troupe, a young man in his early-thirties with an extensive background in military and weapons. The fact he was clairvoyant helped. Armond didn’t want anyone—dead or alive—to gain knowledge of his operations. Armond focused his attention on Edward. “So, you’ve seen this man. Good enough to get a good description of him?” Edward nodded. “Yes, sir. I saw him running from here a few days ago. He looked about six-foot-two with a lean, runner’s build. Short-cropped blond hair, a T-shirt and jeans. I couldn’t see his face, but he was definitely a noncorporeal, sir.” “And you reported his presence?” “Yes, sir. I reported it to the man on duty.” “And it was he who dismissed your claim?” Armond frowned as a picture formed in his mind. One he didn’t like as it spoke to the incompetence of the men working for him. “You never saw him around here again?” Edward shook his head. “No, sir. Never.” He relaxed slightly, as if he realized he wasn’t the focus of Armond’s anger. “Very good.” Armond leaned back in his chair and turned his attention back to Dag. “The man Edward describes sounds very familiar, doesn’t he?” The former lieutenant of Lu-Marc’s had come to Armond shortly after the crime lord’s death. In the intervening years, he’d proved very valuable. “If I hadn’t seen Kyle shot, I’d say it sounds like Kyle has returned. Except it appears he’s playing for the other side.” Armond fought the disgust rising inside him. He hated the fact Lu-Marc’s henchman had gotten the drop on him. And what did he want to know about Armond’s plans? It appeared the ghost had allied himself with Shay, which seemed

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plausible considering she was his lover’s best friend. Damn it, complications were the last thing he needed. He wanted to assess the danger ShayLynn posed, eradicate her if necessary, and move on. Suddenly, being in the Midwest was stifling his business. “You saw Kyle shot. Are you sure?” Armond refused to leave anything to chance. “Can you confirm his death?” “I can’t deny it, sir. We checked the body once Teri and Sage cleared out. Lu-Marc, Kyle, and several good men died that day. Even our psychics said Kyle’s life force had fled. He wasn’t coming back.” Dag looked uncomfortable at the possibility of being proven wrong. “So now he’s back?” Armond arched an eyebrow. Calling Dag a liar wouldn’t be in his best interests right now but it seemed awfully telling that Kyle had returned. Kyle knew too much to be left alone. Whatever plans he made with ShayLynn couldn’t be good. Not for him. Not for Roger. Dag shrugged. “I can’t explain it. Never did go in for that psychic-mojo. I know I work with ghosts. Edward here tells me about their movements, and occasionally I see them in action. But I’m a soldier. I can’t tell you how Kyle came back. I don’t think I’d want to know even if I could explain it.” Armond admired Dag’s candor. The older man spoke easily, not mincing his words. “The threat must be neutralized. Kyle knows too much to be left in ShayLynn’s company. She might start putting two and two together. I want facts, and I want them now. Do you understand?” “Crystal clear, sir. Thank you, sir,” Dag said. He started to rise. Armond motioned him away. “Edward, I want you to get as much information about Kyle as you can. Why did he come back? How did he come back? The more we know, the better we can fight him.” And the sooner he could get back to Europe and not feel like he lived in a den of yokels. Edward rose to his feet and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He followed Dag out of the room. Armond leaned back in his chair. Time to figure out how to extract himself from Roger. He picked up the phone and punched in a number from memory. The phone line clicked. No one spoke. Armond stared at the dead line, unable to believe his ears. Roger had hung up on him. That stupid bastard. Just a phone call could eradicate the stupid pest, but no, he had information about Marcy, information he refused to turn over. He’d give the smalltime crook one more chance. Then he, too, would be out of the picture. Armond was tired. Tired of incompetence. Tired of deals that went nowhere. With his patience running out, Armond contemplated bold action. He wanted ShayLynn dead and Kyle gone. How that happened, he didn’t care. He’d give his men a week—one week. If they didn’t come up with concrete action by then, he’d take all the players out of the game.

*****

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Shay hated feeling like a prisoner. Kyle ordered her to stay in her house while he went out and searched for clues. Frowning, Shay studied the door he had just exited. Damn it, he was a ghost, and while he could affect the material world, she wondered what kind of knowledge he’d be able to obtain. After all, if Lu-Marc had worked with ghosts, and by Kyle’s account he had, then surely these people wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave themselves unguarded from the non-corporeal aspects of the world. She sighed and tried to pick up the paperback novel she had grabbed at the grocery store. Right now the travails of two people running for their lives didn’t sound like an escape—it sounded like reality. “This is stupid,” she muttered to herself as she dropped the book on the floor. “There are things I can do. People I can see.” Reading Marcy’s journals yielded no fresh information. She needed to talk to Roger. Maybe under the pretense of seeing if there was anything else of Marcy’s she could take. He did tell her she was welcome to stop in anytime. Shay halted mid-step. “And what if Roger’s after me? I’ll just be walking into his clutches.” She shook her head and battled the rising tide of fear inside her. “I speak to the dead. I talk to spirits. Surely I can deal with one stupid banker.” Squaring her shoulders, she hurried into her bedroom and changed before she lost her nerve. A few moments later she emerged wearing a pair of jeans, T-shirt and sneakers. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her wallet and car keys stashed in her hip pocket, she pronounced herself almost ready to face anything. Just a quick stop by her hardware drawer where she pulled out an old keychain-sized can of pepper spray. Sliding it onto her keys, she decided now she was ready. A few moments later she backed out of her driveway and started toward Roger’s. What if Kyle saw her? Shay looked around and saw no one. Even if he did, she doubted he could keep up with a traveling car. Maybe he’d figure she had to go to the grocery store or run an errand. “I have a life,” she said aloud, as if to reassure herself of its truth. “Just because I haven’t seen any clients, doesn’t mean I don’t have things to do.” She never thought of herself as a “tough girl”, but approaching Roger surely wouldn’t require street skills—just a lot of patience. Shay tried telling herself she wasn’t being stupid as she navigated the suburban streets to Roger’s home. He might not even be home, though in her experience, he spent less time at work than most individuals. But there were meetings, and his love of golf that kept him away. Marcy had commented on it enough for Shay to become familiar with his schedule. She shrugged. If he wasn’t home, she’d turn around and go back—no harm, no foul. Roger’s car sat in the driveway, and the garage door stood open. Shay parked her car outside, seeing no reason to hide her presence. She wiped her suddenly damp palms on her jeans and opened her car door. Only the sounds of traffic from the nearby thoroughfare drifted to her ears. No sounds of children playing, nothing else filled the air. Not even the breeze rustled leaves on the trees. Shay fought an eerie chill as she

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walked to the front door. She stopped on the top step and rang the doorbell before she lost her nerve. Her heart pounded. Inside, she heard someone moving around, coming closer. Roger, she wondered, or someone else? She swallowed hard and wished she’d brought a bottle of water with her. The door opened. Roger stood just inside wearing a khaki polo shirt and a pair of chinos. He looked cool and calm. “Shay. How nice to see you. I didn’t expect you. Come in.” Roger opened the door and gestured her inside. Shay tried to shake the feeling she walked into a lion’s den as she entered the foyer. Looking at the stairs, she imagined Marcy running down them to greet her. The house looked almost exactly the way it had when Marcy lived in it, but of course, none of the furnishings were hers. “What can I do for you?” Roger asked. “I take it this isn’t a social visit.” With the door closed his tone turned icy. Shay refused to be intimidated. “I thought I’d check and see if you had any more of Marcy’s things you wanted me to take. The women’s shelter was especially pleased with the last round of clothing I took.” She forced a smile on her face and a pleasant tone to her voice. Let him feel like a jerk for treating her so badly. She’d found the best way to deal with rude people was to kill them with kindness. Emotion flashed across Roger’s face, too brief to be anything recognizable. “No, not yet. I, um, think everything’s been taken care of.” “If you’re sure.” Shay stepped forward and laid her hand on Roger’s arm, even as her stomach rebelled at the intimate action. “I know she had lots of clothes and shoes. Certainly we haven’t found homes for them all yet.” “Actually I took a bunch to the Salvation Army. I just couldn’t bear to have them here anymore.” He paused, as if he realized what he’d said. His expression turned sad. “It hurt too much.” Shay didn’t believe him. His forced sincerity grated on her nerves. Instead of chewing him out like she wanted to, she kept a pleasant expression on her face. After all, if he did want her out of the picture like he did Marcy, then she shouldn’t antagonize him. Still, to come here and leave with so little galled. “I understand. Are you sure there isn’t anything I could do? I know you cared for Marcy deeply. I’d be happy to help out in any way possible.” “You know, I have a meeting in less than an hour, but let me run upstairs and check. I’ll be just a moment.” He eyed her and smiled. “That’d be great. Thanks. I’ll run out and open my trunk.” Shay forced a smile on her face, not liking the predatory gleam in Roger’s eyes. “I can help you with that. Why don’t you have a seat?” Roger nodded toward the living room.

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Shay stiffened. Never before had Roger offered to help her. In fact, the last time she’d been here, he’d shoved the box of clothes at her and hurried her outside. She forced herself to nod and move toward the couch. She didn’t like his sudden solicitous behavior. “I’ll be just a moment,” Roger said as he ascended the stairs. She waited until he was out of sight before hurrying to the front door. Welcome sunshine flowed into the foyer, chasing away her sudden chill. Shay stepped outside. If she hurried to her car, she pretended it wasn’t out of fear. Roger had her in his home. If he wanted to hurt her, then wouldn’t he have done so? Shay glanced up at the bedroom window. Roger stood there, an odd look on his face. He pulled the blinds closed, and Shay suspected he wasn’t after clothes at all. Something rested in his hand, just beneath the level of the window. Her instincts screamed at her to get out of there. Swallowing hard, she slid behind the wheel and started the car. As she pulled away from the curb, she saw Roger standing in his doorway, watching her. The sight sent chills down her spine.

***** Shay wrapped her hands around the mug and tried to get the image of Roger watching her out of her mind. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the animal documentary playing on the television. Surely the antics of penguins should pull her out of her apprehensive mood. She took another sip of her warm tea and leaned back on the couch cushions, a quilt pulled to her neck. Nothing would erase the chill that had darted down her spine at Roger’s look. Whatever possessed her to go to Roger’s had been a foolish, stupid notion. She only hoped Kyle didn’t find out. The phone rang. Shay jumped. The shrill sound filled the room and drowned out the announcer talking about the swimming ability of penguins. Grabbing the remote, she turned off the television. It wasn’t as if she was watching it anyway. The phone rang again. Her hand hovered over the handset while she debated on picking it up. She feared it might be Roger. After all, she’d arrived unexpectedly at his house, and he certainly seemed eager to get rid of her. On the other hand it might just be a telemarketer. Calling herself a coward, she picked up the receiver. Her heart pounded. “Hello?” “Hi! Is this Shay?” A female voice, unrecognized, floated cheerily through the phone line. The voice, so different from what she expected, startled her. “Um, that’s me.” She wondered if it might be a client, but most of them didn’t sound, well, happy to be talking to her. “I’m Shay. How can I help you?” “It’s so nice to talk to you. I’m Teri, Sage’s wife. You don’t know who I am, but my husband worked with Kyle.”

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Shay’s heart caught in her throat. Kyle had told her about his past and mentioned his partner, Sage. Why would his wife be calling her? Had something happened? Was there some reason to worry? She knew Kyle had called Sage, but the content of their conversation was a mystery to her. Exhaling a breath and forcing herself to calm, she swallowed hard and forced a smile on her face. “It’s nice to talk to you.” “I’ve been wanting to speak with you. Sage told me Kyle was protecting a woman, and that he is still a ghost.” Shay steeled herself for the disbelief, or at least the shock that she knew to expect whenever anyone talked about spirit entities. “I know how that is, having a ghost draw you into his mission. I guess I just wanted to meet you and let you know there’s someone here who understands. I want to help in any way possible.” “You, um, knew a ghost?” Shay hated sounding so out of it. Damn it, she dealt with ghosts as a profession. Surely she could say something more coherent. “I’m afraid Kyle didn’t tell me anything about his conversation with his former partner. Just that he needed to call.” She didn’t know how much to say over the phone lines. What if Roger’s men were listening in right now? If they were, too late, for she had already mentioned Kyle. Teri laughed. Her infectious chuckle coaxed a real smile onto Shay’s face. “These men of ours.” She sighed, but Shay could hear the warmth in her voice. “Only tell us what they think we need to know, as if we are helpless heroines in a novel or something. Yes, you can say we met, though in reality, my recently deceased grandmother picked out Sage to be my spirit guide. He wasn’t too keen on it, dealing with something important at the time, and yes, I did get pulled into his mission, but that’s okay, because he needed me.” The idea that Kyle might need her seemed foreign. He looked so calm, so in control. Most of the time she felt out of her league dealing with intrigue. She hadn’t even known anyone was after her until the attack in the cemetery. “You think Kyle might need me?” She hadn’t intended to voice the question, but now that she did she felt as if she were asking the right person. “Probably more than he knows. Let me guess. He’s being all secret agent man, going out on scouting missions, telling you to stay in the house.” Teri must have taken Shay’s silence for acceptance for she continued. “You were the one who knew Marcy. I’m so sorry to hear of her death. Sage filled me in on a little bit. We’re not without resources now that he’s back.” “Back?” Shay cut in, wanting to know what that meant. “But he was a ghost.” “The Goddess saw fit to return his body to him. My man is a living, breathing mortal. In fact, we’re expecting, which is probably why Sage didn’t rush down there. That and I don’t think he’s forgiven Kyle for shooting him.” She paused for a moment, and Shay sensed the other woman in wistful thought. “Anyway, yes, we checked into 73

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things and I’m afraid we don’t know much more than Kyle does. But that’s not why I called. I wanted to talk to you, to see how you were handling dealing with a ghost. I’m a witch and clairvoyant, so I guess you could say the supernatural is my business.” Shay smiled. “So am I. In fact, I communicate with spirits for a living.” Just saying the words freed her. She leaned back on the couch, not worried about Teri’s response. Already she liked the woman. “Well, good. Then we can talk the same language.” A few moments later, they chatted happily away about dealing with ghosts, their men, and baking cookies. Shay felt like she’d just found a long-lost friend.

***** Kyle stepped into a quiet house. Outside, a nearly new moon hung in a cloudless sky, the sliver of light struggling to illuminate the world. Inside, a nightlight kept the kitchen from being totally dark, and in the hallway another light burned. Kyle stopped. He listened for a moment then smiled as he heard the patter of the shower. Instantly an image came to mind of Shay, naked and wet beneath the spray. His mouth went dry. His cock hardened. With long strides he walked to the bathroom. Though he couldn’t enjoy the pounding spray against his body, he could most certainly love Shay. Exhaling, he thought of the work he’d done today and how futile it felt. He wanted to protect Shay, but at the end of the day he was still just a ghost. Incorporeal and headed on to whatever awaited him once this mission was done. Surely the deities wouldn’t be as kind to him as they were to Sage. Shoving aside such morose thoughts, Kyle slipped through the door, not wanting to alert Shay to his presence. Even after all this time, he hated the sensation of pulling himself through solid objects. The sensation of wood pulp, the feel of splinters gouging into his nonexistent flesh. He emerged into the bathroom where steam plumed above the shower. Kyle stopped. Shay stood beneath the spray, head tilted back, hands running through her hair. Through the shower door he saw her breasts jutting toward the ceiling, their wide nipples hard. Water sluiced over her body. A towel hanging on the bar covered her and hid her pussy from view. Kyle stripped his clothing, his cock already hard as a rock. He wanted her. He needed her. Pounding into her sweet flesh might add to his guilt, but for a moment he could pretend all would be well. Without looking, Shay grabbed a white pouf hanging from the showerhead. She bent, quickly pouring a dollop of body wash on it, then began to scrub her arms. She turned toward the door and saw him. Her eyes went wide. “Kyle,” she said, not ceasing her scrubbing. She watched him as she scrubbed the hollow of her neck, down between her breasts. Her movements slowed as she stroked the ball of frothy bubbles across her breasts, swiping over her nipples once, twice. She circled her breasts then stopped, the pouf held between the twin globes. “Thinking of joining me?” Her gaze unabashedly settled on his hard cock.

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“Keep teasing me and I won’t make it into the shower.” Reaching down, Kyle wrapped his fingers around his cock and gave it a long stroke. “Mmmm, then maybe I should stop.” She let the pouf fall to the tub, then raised her hands and rinsed them off under the spray. “Don’t stop.” Kyle strode forward, sliding open the shower door to stand before her. Her hands came down over his neck, holding him close, and his lips sought hers. He kissed her and drank from her. His tongue delved deep into her mouth, tasting her. Pulling away, he picked up the discarded pouf and began to caress her body. Each pass sent tiny bubbles over her skin, softening it even more. He followed the wash with his hands, tracing the outlines of her firm, high breasts and down over the smooth skin of her stomach. At the thatch of hair covering her pussy he stopped, deciding to trail his fingers and the soap down her long legs. Each inch of her he scrubbed and worshipped with his hands. The water washed her off and he followed the trail with his lips. Kneeling at her feet, he kissed her knees, licking the water off them to the back of her knees where he sucked. Tiny kisses trailed up to the crease of her buttocks where they met her leg. He laved it with his tongue. Cupping her ass, he paused, inhaling her sweet scent. His lips hovered just inches from her pussy, and he leaned forward. A swipe of his tongue, and he tasted her honeyed sweetness. His cock twitched. He had to have more. With his thumbs, he spread her labia, then wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. Shay moaned. A flood of moisture filled his mouth. She clenched her hands on his shoulders, holding him tightly. Her thighs spread even wider, inviting him deeper. Kyle reached behind her and turned off the water. “Hang on to me, honey.” He stepped into the cradle of her thighs, using his hands on her ass to get her to wrap her legs around her waist. He carried her out of the shower and backed her against the wall. His cock rubbed against her slick labia, bumping against her clit with each thrust of his hips. This was what he wanted, to have her wrapped around him, to be buried in her body. Shay felt as if she were burning alive. After her conversation with Teri, her heart felt vulnerable, exposed, and with Kyle’s lips, his fingers on her skin, she knew she burned only for him. Pressed against the wall, he lifted her until her thighs rested on his shoulders and buried his head between her legs. Looking down at the top of his blond hair, hearing his moans of pleasure, it tightened her pussy and wrung another moan of pleasure from her. She clung to him. “Kyle, please.” He pulled away long enough to look into her eyes, and even that loss of contact left her bereft. “I can’t wait,” she whispered. Shay wanted the long slide of his cock into her body, wanted him to fuck her into oblivion.

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Slowly, way too slowly for her, Kyle slid her down his body. Her wet pussy caressed his chest, her juices soaking him from sternum to navel. “Do you want this?” His ragged voice betrayed his slipping control. Leaning forward, Shay kissed him. She fused her lips to his, her tongue delving deep into his mouth. Words weren’t needed between them. She tasted him, drank him in, and at last, slid her tongue along the length of his, drawing it into her mouth. The need for air forced her to break the kiss for only a moment, then she kissed him again, wishing he could crawl inside her and never leave.

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Chapter Nine Love filled Shay. Wrapped around Kyle, with his cock sliding along her damp folds, she poured all the emotion she felt into the kiss. If Teri’s love could bring Sage back, then perhaps hers could do the same. The thoughts shocked her into parting her lips and staring at him. Hunger filled his gaze. He thrust forward, his cock sliding easily into her tight sheath, but their joining was more than two bodies coming together. Shay watched the play of pleasure across his face, the taut muscles in his biceps bracing her against the wall. As she wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles behind him, he groaned, and no sound had ever sounded more beautiful. With a slow thrust he filled her until his balls pressed against her and they were closer than two people ever could be. Shay savored the moment. Kyle focused his gaze on her, and she kept her eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment. For long moments he stayed there, locked deep inside her, then he began to move. Shay moaned from the sheer pleasure. She met him, thrust for thrust, their slow pace ever-increasing. Her pussy tightened around him, and she knew her orgasm neared. Tiny flutters contracted her muscles around him. Just a little bit more. Then, with a cry, she came apart. Shay clung to him, feeling the spasms rock her from head to toe. Pressed between the wall and Kyle’s hard body, she had nowhere to go, and the tremors shook her. She cried out, a low keening wail of pleasure as Kyle used that moment to thrust hard. He didn’t give her a moment to catch her breath, for he released whatever held him back. The wet sounds of sex filled the air. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body. Shay fought for each breath, needing to draw air into her lungs only so she could propel her body even harder against Kyle’s. And then with a hoarse cry, Kyle stiffened. He pressed against her, his warm seed filling her as he came. Shay’s breath caught. Kyle’s orgasm triggered her own, and with a small moan, her body shuddered around him. Shay draped herself against Kyle, the force of her orgasms leaving her depleted. She listened to the rasping of her own panting breaths, and felt the brush of his fingers against her. Idly, she stroked his back with gentle fingertips, the soft motion the only thing for which she had energy. Kyle wrapped his arms around her. His cock never sliding from her body, he carried her into her bedroom and lay her down on the bed, stretching out beside her. “Now this is better,” he said as he flattened his palm across her stomach. “I can explore you better that way.” Leaning over, he laved a hard nipple with his tongue then drew the tight bead into his mouth, sucking gently. His fingers leisurely explored the flat skin

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of her stomach, the valley and rise of her other breast, the curve of her hip, anywhere he could reach. The slow caresses stoked Shay’s desire. Lying on the bed with Kyle pressed beside her, she thought she could snuggle into a nap, but as he brushed the damp curls between her thighs, she parted her legs with a happy sigh. His fingers stroked, fluttering along slick folds. Shay shifted her hips beneath his searching fingers. He paid her no mind. Gently, he suckled her nipple and caressed her slit, the twin attentions drawing a bolt of electricity through Shay’s body. Tiny contractions hit her vaginal walls. Surely Kyle could feel them. If he did he showed no outward sign, not even when she lifted her hips in invitation. He slid his knuckle across her clit, the brief stroke like lightning against already sensitized nerves. A chill breeze from the ceiling fan cooled the sweat on her body. Shay hardly noticed. She reached for Kyle, taking his hard cock into her hand and stroking it, pausing only to fondle his balls and toy with the sensitive skin behind them. Breathy sighs filled the room along with the musk of well-loved bodies. Kyle continued his leisurely exploration of her slick folds, his finger dipping inside her for a tantalizing moment then retreating until Shay writhed beneath him. She moved restlessly against the covers, needing more intimate contact than he would give her. Tightening her fingers around his penis brought no response except for a low moan against her flesh. At last, he lifted his lips from her breast and moved between her thighs. Shay curled her fingers around his solid shoulders, not caring about the glow surrounding him, or that her fingers tunneling through his hair appeared to be running through thin air. She wished she could see herself as others did, the soft petals of her pussy opened by an unseen, thick force, her hands in the air, back arched and eyes closed with pleasure. Kyle slid inside her and she cried out, just imagining such a picture in her mind. Her body contracted around him and then he moved, and she was lost as passion overtook her. Thoughts fled her mind until she thought only of the thrust of his body into hers, the nip of his teeth on her flesh, and the exquisite pleasure his touch brought. Shay rolled against Kyle, her leg thrown across his and her hand splayed across his stomach. His shoulder cradled her head, and she lay sleepily against him. A happy sigh passed her lips as Kyle stroked her back with featherlight caresses. The silence beneath her ear failed to disturb her, though she wished she could hear the steady beating of Kyle’s heart. She nibbled on her lip. Telling Kyle about her visit to Roger’s house ranked high on her list of things she didn’t want to do. But Kyle had to know. Though she hadn’t learned anything, Shay didn’t know what could be helpful to his investigation. The memory of the attack on her in the cemetery chilled her, and she wrapped her arm around Kyle. “What is it, baby?” He stroked her back and nuzzled her hair.

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The touching gestures made her telling all the harder. Shay swallowed hard. “I took a small drive today.” She squeezed her eyes closed, wondering why it was so hard to tell him. “I saw Roger.” “You what?” His hand tightened on her back, almost painful, then he quickly released his grip. “Why? Damn it, Shay, don’t you know how dangerous that was?” “I know.” She buried her face against his chest, kissed him then raised her gaze to look him in the eyes. “I had to. If he had anything to do with Marcy’s death… No, I know he had something to do with it. How could he not? I don’t know what you do when you go out, and I just had to help.” She nestled her head against his chest again. “I hate the thought of you putting yourself in danger like that. Did you find out anything?” Shay noticed he didn’t address her concerns, and she wondered if he would. It seemed he wanted to keep her locked in her house, something she refused to do. “No. He seemed very agitated to see me though, and demanded that I stay. He also said he didn’t have any more of Marcy’s things, except a few sentimental items. I don’t think he wants to see me again.” She squeezed her eyes closed. Her stomach churned at being so helpless. “I want to help, Kyle. You can’t close me out of this investigation.” “You have to stay safe. You’re alive. I’d like to keep you that way.” His words warmed her, though did little to soothe her worries. Shay shook her head. “That’s not enough. I’ve gone through Marcy’s journals. She’s hinted at things, but I can’t gather any concrete information. Did she stumble onto something of yours? Did she run into something Roger was doing? Marcy was killed. We know that much. But we don’t know why.” She balled her hand into a fist. “We’re just going over the same old tracks. We need new information.” “I know. And I’m trying to get it. But you can’t go back to Roger’s ever again.” Shay bolted upright. Her head swam with the sudden change of direction, and she forced her gaze back to Kyle’s face. “I’m not some wallflower you can hide.” She slid from the bed and began to pace, heedless of her nudity. “You said you thought Roger was working with someone who used to be with Lu-Marc. What about his henchmen? Couldn’t I find out information from them? Introduce me to this guy. I know it’s dangerous, but I can’t stand not doing anything.” “Absolutely not!” Kyle sat, stretching his legs off the bed. “Besides, I’m getting my information by scaling buildings and crawling through ventilation shafts.” “I can do that.” Shay faced him, hands on her hips, and dared him to call her on it. Granted, climbing buildings filled her with dread, but if it helped find out about Marcy’s killer, she’d do it. “I used to be a Girl Scout.” “Did you rock climb as a Girl Scout? Go through combat training?” Kyle slid from the bed and crossed the room. Shay watched him, trying to steel herself against the presence of his body. He moved like a panther, all sinew and power. From his broad shoulders to his tapered hips and his thick cock lying half-hard against his body, he radiated masculine power. 79

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Her mouth went dry and her nipples hardened at the sight. Shay shook her head. No, she had to keep her attention focused on the mission at hand—keep safe and find out about Marcy’s killer. “It doesn’t matter that I didn’t do all of that. I can do anything I set my mind to.” Shay frowned. Kyle strode to her. He grabbed her upper arms and stared at her. “It would kill me if anything happened to you.” It couldn’t kill him if he was already dead. She refused to give voice to her thoughts. Saying them to Kyle’s face would be a wound she refused to inflict. “It means a lot to me that you feel that way. But you can’t—” Kyle’s lips came down on hers, hard. He kissed her, possessively sliding his tongue into her mouth. He claimed her, his lips branding hers. On her arms, his fingers tightened as he hauled her against his chest. Shay wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his short hair. A low moan bubbled from her chest as she pressed her body against his. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and his rough hair made her nipples stand on point. Against her stomach, his hard cock pulsed with a life of its own. Her pussy clenched and filled with moisture. Even after the long session of lovemaking, she wanted him again. He drank from her, kissing her as if there were no tomorrow and no yesterdays, only this moment. The rasp of his tongue against hers, the taste of him, she knew it all intimately, yet craved more. The musk of his skin called to her, made her wish he were more than incorporeal flesh. Shay tucked those dreams deep inside where they wouldn’t escape, not certain she wanted to tell him. At last the need for air forced her to pull away. “You can’t force me to stay here, Kyle,” she said. “I want to help, and there’s nothing you can do or say that will prevent me from helping you.” “I accept that. But I won’t have you getting hurt either.” He released his hold on her and stroked her arms. “Now why don’t you come back to bed?” Shay grinned. “You can’t ply me with promises of sex.” Kyle arched an eyebrow. “But you can try.” Laughing, she chased him back to the mattress.

***** A few hours later, Kyle sat in bed watching Shay dress. Standing there in a matching bra and panty set, she looked like a model as she slipped a T-shirt over her head. He grinned at the sight. For a moment he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like if he weren’t dead and he’d met Shay under normal circumstances. The phone rang. Shay glanced at the caller ID and frowned. “Number’s not listed.” She glanced at him. “Do you think I should answer it?” 80

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Kyle shrugged. “Probably a telemarketer. You can if you want.” He rolled toward the phone, hoping to catch a hint of the conversation. Shay picked up the receiver. “Hello.” She listened for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. Kyle leaned back. Probably just another damn telemarketer. “Sure, he’s here. One moment.” She handed the receiver to him. “He says he’s Allen and you know him.” Kyle’s heart jumped. “Yeah, I do.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Talking to Sage had been bad enough, but Allen had seemed older and wiser, though the three men had frequently worked together. “Hello,” he said, pressing the receiver to his ear. Shay turned away and stepped into a pair of jeans. He admired her heart-shaped ass as she fastened them, then bent over to slide her feet into a pair of slip-on sneakers. “Kyle. It’s good to hear your voice. Sage called me and told me what happened.” Allen said. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Do you have any information that might help?” Kyle wished he had a heart, then it might pound in anticipation. Otherwise, he sat there, body chilled with death, and wondered what sort of men would help someone who once betrayed them and the agency for which they worked. Damn good friends, Kyle realized. He wondered if he’d have a chance to make things up to them before the end, whenever that might be. “Not really. There’s not much on Armond. Whoever he is, he’s playing it low. But that’s not why I called.” Kyle didn’t like the grave tone to Allen’s voice. “Oh?” He shifted on the bed. Shay sat down on the edge. “If you need a new identity, I can help you out. I helped Sage, and the department doesn’t have to know.” Over the phone lines, Kyle heard shuffling paper. Kyle glanced at Shay and shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” “Do you want me to leave?” Shay whispered. Kyle held his hand over the mouthpiece. “If you don’t mind. I’ll fill you in later.” Shay nodded and walked out of the room. Kyle relaxed but only momentarily. He waited until Shay left the room before speaking again. “I appreciate the call, Allen, but you don’t have to go to any trouble on my account.” “Are you sure? I know we didn’t anticipate Sage becoming corporeal again, but you’re still here and there’s a reason why.” “I made a deal with the Fates. They brought me back. I wanted to come back and save Marcy, but she’s dead. The death certificate may say suicide, but we know Marcy didn’t kill herself. Someone killed her for what she knew, and now someone is after Shay. As soon as Shay’s safety is assured I’m sure I’ll go wherever I was headed. 81

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Probably hell given everything I’ve done. I’m not a religious man—I don’t believe in some higher power. I’ve done some horrible things. No one, not even a forgiving deity, is going to give me my body back because I don’t deserve it.” Kyle expelled a harsh sigh. “I don’t deserve a life.” Outside the door, a strangled cry sounded. Kyle bolted to his feet. Damn it. He’d expected Shay to go to the living room. The sound of running feet filled the house. Now he’d done it. He walked as close to the door as the cord would let him, hauling the phone off the nightstand. “Damn it! Shay heard me. I’ve got to go.” “Wait. Don’t give up on the future. You don’t know where life is going to take you. There’s a chance you could get a body back, and if you get that second chance you take it. Don’t be foolish and don’t burn any bridges.” Allen’s voice held a trace of regret, something Kyle hadn’t heard in the other man’s voice before. It made him wonder what had happened. During their investigation into Lu-Marc, Allen dropped out of sight. Something had happened. Something bad, and Kyle suspected it kept Allen up at night. “All right.” Kyle sank to the bed. “But I’m not expecting any miracles. I really appreciate any information you might have. Something isn’t right here. Whether Marcy was killed over something I did or from something else, that’s the question we have to answer. Right now I’m leaning toward her involvement with Roger. Either way, Shay is in danger, and I shouldn’t let her out of my sight for long.” Kyle slid from the bed and held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Okay. Be safe, buddy.” “I’m a ghost. What’s going to happen to me?” With a cocky grin, he reached for his shirt. “But I’ll be careful. Take care.” Kyle replaced the phone on the cradle and went to look for Shay.

***** Pain rolled through her. She stood in the kitchen, one hand braced against the wall, gulping in air. Kyle’s words echoed in her mind. After Teri’s call she’d hoped, foolish as it had been, that the same thing might happen to him. In the room beyond, Kyle’s low voice rumbled. More things she didn’t want to hear. Shay spun away from the wall to the refrigerator. She grabbed a can of soda and opened it, taking long swallows. Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away, not wanting to appear foolish. Her best friend was dead. She was fucking her best friend’s lover, and feared she might feel more for him than physical attraction. Kyle. He’d come into her life with a flash, rescuing her from those men. No one had tried to grab her since, and she started to wonder if he might be overly paranoid. Maybe that’s why Marcy had her problems with him. Maybe he’d acted this way around Marcy too. The whole situation freaked her out. She hated to say it and felt like a coward for doing so. Shay ran her fingers through her hair. She saw ghosts, spoke with them and

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carried messages. In her mind she knew the chances of Kyle getting a body back were infinitesimal. Yet, to hear him say it aloud shocked her. She finished off the can of soda and tossed it in the sink. The conversation in the other room ended. Shay turned back toward the hall. She needed to face Kyle. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to the bedroom where Kyle sat on the bed, head buried in his hands. “What is it?” she asked. “Who was that on the phone?” Kyle looked at her. Raw pain filled his eyes. “Allen. I used to work with him at the bureau.” Shay steeled herself against a rush of emotion. “I hope he had good news.” “Not really. I’m afraid the bureau doesn’t have the information I hoped they had. Of course Lu-Marc’s investigation has been closed for years.” Kyle shrugged. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I take it you heard?” Shay nodded. “You don’t need a new identity? What’s that all about?” She expelled a harsh sigh. “I talked to Teri. I know what happened to Sage.” Her voice caught with unshed tears. Shay pressed her lips closed, trying hard not to cry. “That’s not going to happen to me.” Kyle straightened and strode across the room toward her. Shay tried not to watch him, didn’t want to see the masculine strides, the broad, hard chest, the determined set to his jaw. Those things had captured her heart. When this was over, he’d leave. How or why didn’t matter. She saw it in his gaze and it broke her heart. Damn it, she knew better than to fall for someone, especially a ghost. She knew the transitory nature of their existence. “Why not?” Shay blinked back tears. “Why the hell not?” “I’m not a good man.” Kyle stopped and raked his fingers through his hair, making the spiky blond strands stand on end. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Heaven, hell, whatever awaits me after here, I don’t know. But I know there isn’t some deity ready to give me a body I don’t deserve.” “You don’t want it, you mean.” Shay stepped forward, getting in Kyle’s face. “You’ve done not nice things in your past, but that’s no reason to damn your future. Whatever.” She waved her hand in the air and spun on her heel. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It really doesn’t.” She sniffed and fled. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Inside her chest, her heart broke. She didn’t know if she loved him, wasn’t sure she did, but Kyle’s words, his actions, twisted her up inside until she didn’t know what she wanted. She hit the back door running, flinging it aside and racing into her backyard. Overhead the sun pounded down. Birds called from the trees, quickly silenced by the bustle of activity. Sniffing, Shay headed for the granite bench in the middle of her herb garden. Not even the aromas of lavender, lemon grass, and chamomile could soothe her spirit. She sat down, head buried in her hands, and cried.

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Her emotions tore at her. Always an emotional person, she was stung by Kyle’s admission. Swallowing hard, she stared at the thick, boxy hedge surrounding her backyard. He acted so crazy, so out there, like she’d be attacked at any moment. Shay didn’t know what to think. She glanced back toward the door, half expecting to see Kyle striding through it. Instead, she saw nothing but her own house. Kyle appeared to be nowhere in sight. Taking a deep breath, Shay leaned back on the bench. She focused her attention on the herb garden. If only she knew why Marcy died. The more she thought about it, the more Shay wondered if perhaps Marcy didn’t get herself mixed up in something that had nothing to do with Kyle or her past. Maybe none of it mattered at all. Shay nodded and leaned forward to rub a sprig of lavender between her fingers. Maybe she should tell Kyle to go find someone else. Her body clenched at the thought of letting him go. Closing her eyes, Shay held the crushed leaves to her nose and inhaled. Something rustled in her bushes. Dropping the lavender, Shay watched as two men barreled through the small wrought iron gate separating her backyard from a bike trail. Shay bolted to her feet. The intruders raced toward her. Shay ran. “Kyle,” she yelled, hoping he heard her. “Kyle!” Something grabbed her from behind and hurled her toward the ground. She landed with a grunt. A heavy weight blocked light and kept her pinned. “Now we have you,” a male voice growled next to her ear, and Shay shuddered with fear.

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Chapter Ten Already halfway to the back door when he heard Shay’s scream, Kyle bolted toward the sound. He shouldn’t have let her go out alone. Why did he think she’d be safe in her own yard? Berating himself for his failure to protect her, he rushed through the door and outside. He instantly recognized the man standing over Shay’s prone figure. A bear of a man standing at least six-foot-five and heavily muscled, Dag once operated as Lu-Marc’s lieutenant. Kyle had worked with him on several occasions. The other man, lean and wiry with short, cropped brown hair, who held Shay pinned, wasn’t familiar. He looked up. Kyle stopped with the sense that this other man saw him. Not the flattened grass or the displaced wind, but saw him as the ghost he was. “Let go of her,” Kyle bellowed. He strode forward, each step purposeful. In hand-to-hand combat, he doubted he’d best Dag, but the other man made an easy target. On the ground, Shay laid unmoving. A bruise darkened her cheek and plastic cable ties held her hands behind her back. “I said, let go of her.” Kyle glanced around the backyard. Nothing he could use as a weapon. He reached for his hip, his fingers closing around empty air. Now would have been a great time to carry a gun. A quick glance at the two men showed them both armed. Dag drew a .45 semi-automatic pistol with a silencer. He pointed it at Shay. “Don’t come any closer.” Kyle held his hands out to the sides to show he wasn’t armed. “You don’t want her. She knows nothing. It’s me you’re after.” Shay moaned with pain. Leaning over her, the younger man grabbed the tie holding her wrists. Though his guns were holstered, Kyle suspected he was just as deadly with his hands. A standoff. Ideas ran through Kyle’s mind in a torrent, ways to get behind the men and disarm them without hurting Shay. If they wanted to take her, they’d be gone by now. No, they wanted him. She was just the bait in the trap. “Don’t flatter yourself, traitor-boy. I know what you did to Lu-Marc in the end, and I know what you’re trying to do now. Save this woman’s life. How noble. Both of you will come with us now and no one will get hurt.” Dag stared a little to Kyle’s left. A smile played around the corners of Kyle’s lips. The other man kept his attention focused on Shay. Kyle stepped to the left, careful not to leave any trace of his passage. Standing on the stone path leading to the garden, he inched closer. Dag’s gaze never wavered.

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“I want you to—” Kyle lunged. He grabbed Dag around the throat, spinning him away from Shay. The gun fired, a tiny glass ball in the garden shattered. A quick uppercut whipped Dag’s head around. Bellowing, he lunged at Kyle. The other man hauled Shay over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. Kyle followed. He raced after the man, grabbing him around the arm and hauling him back. He stumbled, nearly dropping Shay. Kyle punched him. He rained blows on the man, stiff uppercuts and short jabs. His fury at the situation and helplessness at not being able to do more channeled into his punches. A swipe of his feet and the man fell. Shay hit the ground with a thud, rolling off his shoulders. Kyle pounced. He pummeled the man, not caring about anything except eliminating the threat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dag racing toward him. Shay groaned. Kyle glanced toward Shay. Dag landed a lucky punch. The hard uppercut nearly picked Kyle off the other man’s body. Kyle bowled over backwards, lying sprawled in the yard. He sprang to his feet and ran at Dag. Dag swiped at him and grabbed his arm. “Look, man, you’re dead. Let her go.” “Never!” Kyle reached for him, only to be stopped by the other man who grabbed his shoulder. “Kyle?” Shay’s worn voice filled the air. “It’s okay, Shay. I’m just escorting these two men out,” Kyle replied. He glared at Dag. “I don’t know who you’re working for now, but if it’s Roger or Armond, you tell them if they come after Shay again, I’ll make them wish they were ghosts. Get the hell out of here.” He shrugged off the two men. “It’s your funeral,” Dag countered, brandishing the gun. He nodded to the other man. Kyle barked a short, harsh laugh. “My funeral happened a while ago, Dag. What’s the worst you can do to me? Kill me?” He rushed Dag, wrestling the other man for the gun. Seeing the commotion, the other man scurried for the gate. “We don’t get paid enough for this shit,” he growled. “I’m tired of getting my ass kicked by some ghost hero.” Kyle wrenched the gun from Dag’s fingers. He pointed it at the mortal man, staring down the barrel. “I’ve killed before. Why don’t you join your friend and get the hell out of here?” Dag stared at him for long moments then scurried away. “You’re going to wish you were dead. You and your lady friend.” With that parting remark, the two men left.

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Kyle exhaled, not lowering the gun until the two men were out of sight. A stalemate. He set down the gun and knelt beside Shay. He eased his arm behind Shay’s head. “You all right?” “Help me get inside,” Shay said. She hissed with pain as Kyle slid his other arm beneath her legs and cradled her against his chest. He left the gun in the grass, intending on returning for it. Kyle carried her into the house, all the while cursing himself for letting his guard down. Something could have happened to her. The only reason why she wasn’t dead was because Armond’s men apparently didn’t wish it. He gritted his teeth and tried to come to grips with the fact. He’d have to take them out. No mercy. No retreat. He fumbled with the doorknob then carried Shay into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He grabbed a pair of nail clippers from the bathroom and removed the cable ties around her wrists. Her eyelids fluttered, and he stroked her cheek. “Stay with me. Where does it hurt?” Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she eased into unconsciousness. Kyle sat beside the bed, Shay’s hand gripped in his. Helplessness rolled through him. If only he had a body then he could do something, drive her to the emergency room. As it was, she couldn’t come floating into the ER in his arms. He hated his incorporeal existence. If he lived, Shay wouldn’t have raced out into the backyard and gotten herself hurt. If he lived, he probably wouldn’t be with Shay. The thought punched him in the gut. Her breathing deepened as Shay drifted into sleep. He nudged her once, just to see her eyelids flutter open and have her mumble something incoherent. Stretching out beside her, he cradled her against his chest and let her sleep.

***** Shay leaned closer to the warmth surrounding her. Hovering in that dream state between wakefulness and sleep, she tried to recall what had happened. She remembered going out in the backyard, an attack, and then nothing. What had happened? Where was she? Shay struggled awake and shoved against the warm body holding her close. “Don’t move. You might have hurt something.” Kyle’s voice washed over her, bringing with it a sense of relief. “It’s okay. I don’t think I’m hurt badly.” Shay sat up and pressed her fingers to her pounding temples. She sucked in deep breaths of air, wincing at the slight pain in her ribs. Gingerly, she felt along her side, gritting her teeth against the pain. Just bruised, she hoped, as nothing felt as if it were broken. “I think I just got beat up. What happened?” “You don’t remember?” Concern filled Kyle’s voice. He smoothed back her hair from her forehead. “We, um, had a fight, and you ran outside. I think Armond’s or Roger’s thugs were after you. They tried to kidnap you but I stopped it.”

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Something about Kyle’s voice made Shay wonder if it wasn’t more than that but she remained mute on the topic. “Thank you.” “My pleasure.” He stroked her arm. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water? Some aspirin?” “A couple of aspirin and a glass of water, please.” She settled herself against the pillows and watched Kyle scurry into the bathroom. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of generic ibuprofen and a glass of water. “I didn’t see any aspirin, but these should help.” Shay accepted the medicine gratefully and swallowed it down. “Is there something I’m keeping you from?” Whether it was her nap, or the fact she was sitting, the pounding in her head lessened to a dull roar. Once again she found herself an invalid after an attack. Shay hated it. Anger filled her, white-hot and welcome. “And if there isn’t, can you go find those men so I can kick their asses?” Kyle chuckled. “Now you sound like the Shay I know.” He grinned. “Actually I would like to go out and do a bit of reconnaissance. I don’t have to tell you to stay inside and be careful, do I?” Shay shook her head, instantly regretting the movement. “No, but I should tell you to be careful.” Kyle bent over and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll be back soon, if you think you’ll be all right.” “Go. I can take care of myself,” she insisted. Kyle looked at her quizzically then turned and left. Shay watched him go and wondered if she shouldn’t call the police.

***** Once he reached Roger’s house, Kyle didn’t bother to knock. As far as he knew, Roger couldn’t see spirits, and Kyle liked it that way. A sinister grin covered his lips. Damn bastard sent men after Shay. He’d pay, and he’d pay well. Steeling himself against the sensation, Kyle passed through Roger’s front door. Security system be damned. No system on the market protected against ghosts. Kyle wandered the empty lower level, noticing the lack of photographs and knickknacks pertaining to Marcy. Roger didn’t deserve her. Marcy had been so warm and welcoming, and a tigress in bed. Kyle hated the thought of another man touching her, especially one as vile as Roger. From upstairs, Kyle heard the muted sounds of the radio. He ascended the stairs. Roger sat at the computer working on some program. Kyle leaned against the doorframe and stared at him. Roger looked like the consummate businessman with his polo shirt and chino pants. Expensive Italian leather loafers covered his feet, and his hair looked freshly cut. Smug bastard. Kyle growled in his throat. Roger looked around the room. 88

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Kyle chuckled softly. Roger looked around again. “Who’s there?” He swiveled in his chair and surveyed his den. Then reached over and turned off the radio. After long moments, he resumed working on the computer. Kyle peered over his shoulder. Investment portfolios meant little to him, except to show Roger as a very wealthy man. Someone who could afford to give Marcy everything she wanted. He thought back to Shay. She deserved someone more than him. Someone alive, with prospects and a future. Hell, he didn’t even know what was going to happen to him once he figured out the mystery. If he roughed up Roger like he wanted to, he’d have one more black mark in the sin column. Better he get the mark than Shay. Grabbing the back of Roger’s chair, Kyle spun him around. “What the hell?” Roger growled. He reached for the desk to steady himself. Kyle made two quick chops across Roger’s wrists. Roger yanked his hands back, massaging the bruise. “Who are you? What do you want?” “Not scared of ghosts, Roger?” Kyle asked. “But then again, your friend Armond employs them all the time.” “Armond? What do you know of Armond?” Roger’s voice shook. Damn it, this was going to be too easy. Kyle grabbed Roger’s collar and hauled him from the chair. “You’re going to tell me why you sent those men after Shay, or I’ll kill you.” “Men? What men? I didn’t send any men after Shay.” Roger looked wildly around the room. He tried to open up a desk drawer. “Guns won’t work on me.” He shoved Roger away from him. The man stumbled backwards, his heels catching in the deep Berber carpet. Roger sprawled on his back. His head whipped back and hit the desk with a crack. “What do you want?” Roger rubbed the back of his head. “What can I get you?” “Stay the hell away from Shay.” Possessiveness roared to life inside him. “If you harm her again, I’ll kill you.” Kyle knelt beside the man and wrapped his hands around his throat. Roger’s eyes bulged. “All right,” he said. “Just don’t hurt me.” “Fucking whiner,” Kyle growled. He squeezed, just hard enough to cut off the airflow. Roger’s face turned purple, and he struggled for air. Kyle watched for a moment, satisfaction growing deep inside him. Taking care of Roger would avenge Marcy, and remove the threat to Shay. A desire to protect her filled him. She made him feel human, as if he could live again. Dangerous thoughts, but ones he didn’t mind entertaining.

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Shay wouldn’t want Roger dead. Kyle eased up the pressure. Roger sucked in air, the mottled purple color easing a bit. “What does Armond want from Shay? Why is he here?” “Nothing. Protect secrets.” Roger forced the words out. Kyle sat back, releasing the man’s neck. “What kind of secrets?” Roger rubbed his neck and bolted to his feet. He lunged for the phone. Kyle stopped him, one hand closed around his wrist. “You don’t know shit,” he growled. Shoving the man out of his way, Kyle stormed downstairs and outside. His thoughts drew him back toward Shay’s house. Shay. He would have killed for her without a moment’s hesitation. Looking at his spectral hands, Kyle wondered what kind of man he really was. He didn’t deserve someone like her, but damn it, how he wanted her.

***** Feeling much better, Shay moved around the kitchen making cold-brewing iced tea. She glanced out the small window framed by lacy curtains, longing to step outside to set a pot of sun tea on the patio to brew. Outdoors, the sun shone in a nearly cloudless sky. Sparrows and robins sang from the bushes surrounding her property, and a blue jay hopped through her garden, scratching for bugs. A chill snaked down her spine. Shay wrapped her arms around herself and looked out on the pastoral scene. Her yard wasn’t safe. She wasn’t safe. Not for the first time, she wondered where Kyle had gone. Presumably to find the men who attacked her, but what then? Would he beat them up? Or kill them for harming her? The thought sent a cold dread running through her body. Kyle would kill, had killed, and would do it again. Exhaling, she reached for the edge of the sink to steady herself. Sucking in deep breaths, Shay wondered if she wanted to be involved with a man capable of killing. Suddenly, he stood beside her. Strong arms wrapped around her, hauling her against his warm, strong frame. His cock pressed against her, hard and demanding. Shay sucked in a deep breath at the sudden contact. Deep in her pussy, heat flared. Her nipples tightened, and she couldn’t help a satisfied sigh from passing her lips. Thoughts of attacks and killing people fled as Kyle palmed her breast. Through her top, her nipple pebbled. Kyle rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Dipping his head, he nibbled along the side of her neck. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered. Moisture gathered in her tight channel. “Me neither,” she admitted. He played her body like a virtuoso, one hand splayed against her abdomen, the other playing with her nipples and breasts as if they had all the time in the world. A quick tug, and he slid his hand beneath her shirt. The first touch against her bare skin sent shockwaves through her.

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“Yes,” she whispered, raising her arms so he could tug the shirt over her head. Her bra followed, then he spread his legs and trapped her between his body and the counter. Oh Goddess, she wanted this. It didn’t matter what Kyle had done in the past, or even half an hour ago. He protected her. He wanted her. The combination became a potent aphrodisiac. Reaching behind her, she cupped his ass, wanting to feel him. She caressed his hips, his butt, his back, anywhere she could reach. Kyle rocked against her. He unfastened her jeans. The rasp of the zipper sounded loud in the nearly silent kitchen. The refrigerator whirred, a counterpoint to her husky breathing. He slid his fingers into her panties, past the curls and down to the damp labia. “Kyle,” Shay breathed. She clenched his ass with her fingers, pulling him harder against her. Sunlight streamed in through the open window, bathing her with warmth. Shay didn’t care that she stood topless in front of her kitchen window. No one could see her. Widening her stance, she released Kyle long enough to shove her pants down. He stroked her outer lips, his finger slick with her moisture. “You’re so hot,” he said against her neck, punctuating his words with tiny bites. “I want to fuck you so bad.” “Do it,” Shay said. Grabbing Kyle’s wrist, she directed his finger deeper inside her. He brushed her clit. She moaned at the pleasure of his fingers dancing over her flesh. One caress, two, then he slid a finger into her tight channel. He thrust gently. Closing her eyes, Shay leaned against him. With his thumb on her clit, and his fingers deep inside her, he finger-fucked her. Shay arched her hips, wanting him deeper. A curve of his finger and he brushed her G-spot. She cried out at the pleasure rippling through her body. This was how she wanted Kyle, hot and hard, quick and rough. He stepped away and she felt him shove his clothing out of the way. His cock brushed her naked ass. Someday, she wanted him in there. He worked her sweetly, a hand at her cunt, the other on her breast. He tweaked a nipple, drawing a gasp of pleasure from her. Pressure built. Her body demanded release. Right here. Right now. “Kyle, please,” she said. “I want you inside me.” He pulled away long enough to spread her legs. His cock brushed her slick folds. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he bent her forward and thrust. His cock slid into her in a long, smooth stroke. Shay cried out at the pleasure of being filled by him. He speared her with his body, pounding into her pussy. Shay held on to the edge of the counter, her body feeling as if it were about to break into a million pieces. “Please,” she begged. “Harder.” Kyle complied, his long groan of pleasure filling the room. He reached around and mashed his finger against her clit.

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Shay screamed her release. Her pussy contracted around his cock, milking it. Ripples of pleasure darted through her body. She pressed her ass against him, wanting him as deep as he could go. Kyle thrust again then bellowed as his own orgasm came. He slumped against her. Shay fought to regain her breath. After long moments, Kyle slid his half-hard cock from her body. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “I don’t want to feel like I’m going to lose you again,” he whispered. Shay nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “Me neither,” she said at last, then turned in his arms and kissed him.

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Chapter Eleven Another reconnaissance mission finally provided a lead for Kyle. He halted outside the wrought iron gates closing off the exclusive community and stared through the wide-spaced bars at the idyllic homes inside. Huge houses built with bricks and stone sat on half-acre to full acre lots. Brick paved the streets and old-style streetlamps filled with space-age light bulbs lined the road. A wide sidewalk cut through even green manicured lawns. Not even a dog barked. A silver BMW pulled up to the gate. The driver, a man who looked to be in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, pressed a button on what looked like a garage door opener, and the wide gates opened. Golf clubs lay nestled in the backseat. He drove through. The gates closed behind him. Kyle slipped through the bars, hating the cold, metallic sensation filling him. He listened for children playing, any noise that might tell him this was a normal, suburban community. Instead, the tinkle of the large fountain in the center of the roundabout just inside the gate and the caw of a crow along the highway filled the air. Kyle frowned. He strolled down the sidewalk, on the lookout for Armond’s goons. Knowing the man employed corporeal and incorporeal guards set Kyle’s nerves on edge. Thick curtains hung in the windows, obscuring the view into the houses. Closed garage doors hid what lay behind. In one driveway, a Toyota Corolla sat looking strangely middleclass for this neighborhood. A chill trickled down Kyle’s spine. It’d been three days since he made love to Shay in the kitchen. True to her word, she ventured out only to go to the grocery store and then to see a client. The first time he accompanied her. For her work, he couldn’t, not knowing how his being a spirit would affect her consultations, but he didn’t like the way she returned looking drained. He’d sent her to bed, snuggling beside her, and wondered if she always looked so depleted after returning home from a visit. He’d wondered how she’d handled it before he arrived, but didn’t ask. After all, no use in his learning things that would only cause more pain in the end. Straight past the ornate statue in the middle of the road sat a four-way intersection. Looking at the street numbers, Kyle wondered down which path lay Armond’s home. He checked the numbers and decided to turn left. The short road ended in a cul-de-sac. There, on the end, stood the address Armond had listed on the papers he’d been handling earlier in the day. Kyle sucked in a deep breath and ducked alongside a house. He watched. A few moments later a guard team of two men crossed in front of Armond’s home. The men, both ghosts, carried no visible weapons. They moved with military precision, eyes watchful and wary. Bingo. 93

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Kyle struggled to contain his triumphant shout. What lay inside Armond’s house could answer all their questions about Marcy, and maybe even put both Armond and Roger behind bars for good. He watched, memorizing the route of the guards across the front of the house. They seemed to patrol the sides, though the interval of time between their circuits seemed too short for the men to be going all the way around the house. For a moment he wondered if Armond could be so sloppy. The huge house built from buff-colored stone had three floors. Trees and shrubs surrounded the front, and the obligatory lamp in the yard. A privacy fence bordered both sides of the wide lot. Kyle scurried to the next house in the hopes of getting a better view. He glanced down the fence line, noticing how far back it went. The lot must be at least two acres. A tall privacy fence surrounded the backyard, preventing anyone from seeing beyond the front of the house. Damn it, Armond wasn’t going to make this easy. He’d prefer to enter through a doorway, though technically he could pass through walls if he wanted. The problem would be if the room were occupied on the other side. Doors meant less chance someone would be in the room, though he lacked knowledge of Armond’s floor plans. A small foyer suited Kyle’s plans much better than a large great-room. And then he might have servants waiting, or nearby to take care of things. Armond appeared to require a large staff. He studied the men’s rotations. They walked only halfway down the sides of the house, and no guards met them. With the open front it made getting alongside the house difficult at best. A distraction would work, but what kind of distraction could he cause without putting himself in harm’s way. The more Kyle studied the situation, the more frustrated he became. A large tree grew alongside the privacy fence, attainable by climbing a tree in the neighbor’s yard. The limbs looked as big as his wrists. He wondered if they’d hold his weight, or even if he had weight as a ghost. Even in Armond’s ceiling, he’d felt like a physical man. One of the aspects of his ghostly form, if he wanted to touch a physical object, he had to have a physical presence, and that meant weight. He erred on the side of caution and decided against it. Watching the men, Kyle crept as close as he dared. Too many questions about Armond and his operations and not enough answers. But he had an address, and if he secreted himself in Armond’s car, possibly a way inside. He wouldn’t have done it before, not with Shay needing protection, but with her staying home, he could afford to take chances. He sensed his time was running out, and he didn’t want to leave without answers. Determined, he hurried back toward the downtown office building.

***** The phone rang. Lying in bed, a quilt tucked up to her chin, she reached for the phone. Her hand missed, and the shrill summons threatened to start Shay’s head

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pounding. Licking her lips to try and remove the cotton-mouthed feeling, she hauled herself upright and grabbed the phone. “Hello,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Shay?” Teri’s voice came over the phone line. Shay heaved a sigh of relief. “Teri, it’s you.” She straightened the blankets, then reached for a glass of water she realized sat on her bedside stand. “Did I wake you? You sound tired.” Through the phone line, the sound of soothing harp music played. “I was napping, but that’s okay. I kind of needed to get up anyway, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I had a client yesterday, and it took a lot out of me. Lots of tension between the deceased and the living. It was hard playing referee.” She managed a slight chuckle. “What’s up? If you have more information for Kyle, I don’t think he’s here.” Focusing, she didn’t feel his presence in the house. It sounded empty, with just the whir of appliances. She fought a shiver and wrapped the blanket around her more tightly. “No, I don’t have any information for Kyle.” Teri paused. “It must be hard to deal with your gifts. I’m lucky that I had a grandmother to teach me, but you didn’t mention anyone else the last time I called. I guess I just wanted to check and see how you were doing, and if there was anything I could do for you?” Shay swallowed hard. Sudden tears stung her eyes. No, she didn’t have anyone. Not even Marcy had understood the extent of her skills. Kyle did, but he was a ghost, and as he said, he would probably never get a body. “That’s, um, very nice of you.” She blinked to hold the tears at bay. “It does get lonely, though I’ve grown used to it.” “Well, and if anyone understands what you’re going through with Kyle, it’s me. After all when Sage appeared in my life I thought he was a spirit guide.” Teri laughed. “Big macho guy all bent on finding some criminal and keeping me safe. I thought I was going to go crazy until I convinced him I could help.” Shay smiled. “That about sums it up.” She sighed, feeling a sudden closeness with this woman she’d never met. “I know Kyle wants to keep me safe, but I don’t think he understands how suffocated I feel stuck here. I mean, like right now. I took a nap and he left. I haven’t been anywhere but the bedroom yet and I know he didn’t leave a note. He’ll come in when he pleases. All the while, I have to try not to worry about him. He worries about me way too much.” “Did something happen?” Concern filled Teri’s voice. Shay wondered what gifts Teri had. To call now, when she needed a friend, seemed a bit too much like a coincidence that was something more. “Some guys attacked me a few days ago. Kyle got me away. Luckily, all I got was a few bruises.” “Are you all right? Sounds like you’re involved in something serious. I know Kyle is probably being overprotective, though these men do know what they’re doing when it comes to tracking down criminals. I’d hate to think of something happening to you.”

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Teri’s voice grew grave. “I know what I went through. If this Armond fellow is a colleague of Lu-Marc’s you’re going to have to be careful.” “I know, and it isn’t like I’m parading about town announcing my presence. I worry about him more than me. He goes off on his own doing ‘reconnaissance work’, he calls it. I don’t know where he is, and if something happens to him, there isn’t anything I can do about it.” A lump formed in Shay’s throat, and she tried to hold the tears at bay. All the fear, all the worry she felt each time he went off on his own bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill free. “I’m so scared for him. I know it sounds silly. He’s a ghost. He’s already dead, but none of the spirits I’ve talked to have seemed as alive as Kyle is.” “You care about him,” Teri said. “Yeah, I guess I do.” Shay grinned. “But he’s a ghost. We can’t have a future together. I know Sage got a body, and damn it, I want Kyle to get one too, but I don’t know how, or why. That wasn’t covered in Mediumship 101, you know?” She tried to keep the petulant tone from her voice. Really, she wanted to tell Teri it was crazy for a ghost to regain a physical body, a physical life. The spirit already fled one dead body. It wasn’t going to return, not when whatever it was waited beyond the veil. Tears flooded her eyes. It hurt. Thinking of Kyle ascended to heaven, or the Summerlands, or wherever, and out of her life, seared pain through her heart. “You still there? You okay?” “Yeah.” Shay released a shaky breath. “I am.” “You love him, don’t you?” Teri’s soft question caught Shay off guard. Sure, she’d admitted feelings for the spirit, but love? “I, um, don’t know. I might. Oh Goddess, Teri, what have I done? If I do love him, then I’ve fallen in love with a ghost. Kyle keeps telling me we have no future, but I didn’t want to believe him. How can I love someone who is already dead?” “Love doesn’t ask whether it’s all right with us before it grows, Shay. You forget, I loved a ghost too.” “But he received a body. For all the good he’s done, he received a body,” Shay rebutted. “From what Kyle’s told me, he’s done some nasty things, including killing his partner. I don’t think he’d get a second chance.” “Sage killed Kyle.” A pause, and Shay wondered if Teri shrugged. “Don’t discount things that haven’t even happened yet. Take the love you share and run with it. If you can make Kyle believe in you, in your love, then who knows what will happen.” Shay didn’t know how to answer. “I appreciate your calling. You’ve given me some things to think about. Thanks.” “All right. I think Sage might be calling Kyle later. Take care.” “I will, thanks.” A few moments later, Shay hung up the phone and wondered what to do about her newly discovered feelings.

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The devil was in the details. At least that’s what he believed as an agent. As a ghost, Kyle didn’t know what he believed, except that he had to bring Armond to justice and find a way to get on with his non-life. Just seeing Shay’s small cottage brought a swell of pride to his chest. No matter what he said or how much he scolded her, he admired Shay. She lived in a world where beings like him didn’t exist and where those who could talk to them were candidates for the loony bin. Just by existing and continuing with her gifts made her special. His steps slowed. Too special for the likes of him. Kyle dragged his fingers through his hair and tried to force his mind to a better path. Damn it, how long had he been on this plane of existence helping her? Berating himself got him, and her, nowhere. Except that the closer he came to finding out more information about Armond and the threat against Shay’s life, the closer he came to leaving. His feet scuffed along the curb, as if by slowing his steps he could somehow postpone the inevitable. Kyle paused outside Shay’s front door. For once, he wanted to enter like a real man would. Yet, as he stopped on the front step, he stared at the doorbell and thought himself foolish for wanting to ring it. With a shake of his head, he stepped through the door, ignoring the pull of wood and metal to emerge in her darkened living room. A book lay spine up on a coffee table, and a can of soda sat on a coaster beside it. Soft light came down the hall, presumably from her den, or bedroom. Thinking about Shay sprawled on the bed sent a rush of blood to his cock. His fist tightened as he fought the urge to stride down the hall to her. Not yet. Not until he had more information. At least he had an address. Kyle smiled. He sat down on the couch and picked up the handset. Dialing Sage’s phone number, he hoped his friend could find out more information. After three rings Sage answered. “Hi Sage, it’s Kyle.” He tried to keep his voice light, trying to block out the memories of that foggy, rainy night when he’d shot his partner to death. “What can I do for you?” Suddenly Sage was all business, any hint of warmth gone from his tone. “I have an address I need you to run.” Kyle rattled off the address of Armond’s opulent home. “See what you can come up with on it. Shay’s promised to stay low, and that gives me more time to go hunting.” A harsh chuckle came through the phone lines. “Stay low, huh? I know how that goes. I’ll get some information, but you might want to stick close to home too. You never know what can happen.” “We’ll be careful,” Kyle said, thankful that while Sage wasn’t exactly friendly, he did seem to be warming up. “You sound like you have some experience in this area.” “Let’s just say I know all about beautiful women who don’t realize what exactly they’re dealing with. Oh, and before I forget, Allen sent some information over.” Sage rustled through some papers. “Seems like Armond has his fingers in many pies. The CIA wants him for some links to possible terrorist cells, and apparently the SEC isn’t too happy with the American subdivision of one of the companies he owns. Nothing

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concrete, but lots of agencies certainly have their ears to the ground when it comes to this guy. If you thought Lu-Marc was a piece of work, apparently this guy’s file makes Lu-Marc look like Santa Claus.” A chill snaked down Kyle’s spine. “Thanks for letting me know.” He paused for a moment. “I appreciate the information, don’t get me wrong, but why tell me now? I’d think after everything that happened you wouldn’t mind if I found myself a little piece of hell.” He spit out the words, knowing he deserved whatever vile punishment Sage wished for him. “You’ve changed. I don’t know how or why, but I had a nice, long talk with Teri. Seems that she spent some time on the phone with Shay today. I don’t know what the women talked about. Teri wouldn’t tell me. But I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. If you can take out Armond, so much the better.” “Shay seems to think I’ll get a body like you.” Kyle sank into the couch cushions, pulling back as he felt himself start to pass through the material. “She seems to think I’m noble or something. Damn it, I’m not the man she thinks I am.” He shook his head. “Thanks again for the information. I’ll put it to good use.” Kyle doubted either agency held the downtown address to Armond’s offices, and siccing the big boys on him might make him desperate enough to give them what they needed on Marcy’s death. Or, it could send him into hiding too. Kyle frowned. “If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.” Silence stretched across the phone lines. “Hell, man, take care of yourself.” Without waiting for an answer, Sage hung up the phone. Kyle stared at the dead receiver. Reluctantly, he replaced it, as if by holding it in his hand the call would magically reconnect and Sage would be there again. Instead, only silence surrounded him. Kyle rose to his feet. The light at the end of the hall drew him like a moth to a flame. To be around her, to sense her vibrant presence, that was all he wanted right now. And maybe, just to find out about the conversation she had with Teri. He double-checked the front and back doors, making sure both were locked, then after a quick scan at all the windows, he headed down the hall. Outside the bedroom, he stopped. If he went in there, he knew he’d end up making love to Shay. His cock hardened at the thought of delving into her hot, sweet pussy, of fucking her until both of them fell into sated bliss. A primal growl rose in his throat along with the knowledge he couldn’t get any more involved with her. No matter what happened, he couldn’t make love to Shay. He couldn’t be the man she needed, if only for the simple fact he was dead. Steeling himself against the sight of her, he wrapped his spectral fingers around the doorknob and turned it. He stepped inside. Shay looked up from the bed. Marcy’s journals lay scattered around her like discarded toys. A box of tissues sat on the nightstand, a few missing the wastebasket beside the bed. Shay sighed and looked up. She smiled, a wan smile full of sorrow. “I can’t find it,” she said at last.

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Kyle stopped. He expected to find her reading, yes, but not so distraught. Long strides brought him across the bedroom and he eased down beside her on the bed. With one arm wrapped around her shoulders, he pulled Shay against him, tucking his body around her. Shay snuggled, her cheek pressed against his chest. “What can’t you find?” Kyle asked. He stroked her back and tried to glance at the scrawled words written by a woman he once loved. Shay sniffed. “The reason why Marcy was killed. I’ve poured through these journals, even found a couple more buried in another box. It’s not in here and I think—” Her voice broke. She pulled away long enough to grab a tissue. Dabbing at her eyes, she sat. Kyle went with her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. Marcy might not have written it down. She may have feared detection.” Shay shook her head. “No! It’s not here. And I think Marcy might really have committed suicide. What if I failed my friend?” Burying her face in her hands, Shay bit back a wail. “What if Marcy really did want to die?” “I can’t imagine you ever failing anyone, Shay.” As Kyle spoke he knew the words came from the heart. “I’m sure you were the best friend anyone could have asked for.” He pulled her against his body, telling his pounding cock to be quiet. She needed comforting, not lust. The desire roaring in his blood only reminded him that he couldn’t be the man Shay needed, at least not until he gained a body, and he doubted that’d ever happen. Letting her down easy seemed a moot point right now. She sobbed, and he rubbed her arm, pressed his cheek against the top of her head, and did everything he could to ease her pain. Her tiny cries broke his heart, shredding his soul with their grief and pain. “It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be all right,” he crooned to her. She buried her head against his chest. Her tiny body felt so right in his arms. Fierce protectiveness surged through him. Mine. Even if he couldn’t be there for her in the flesh, the thought of any other man touching her sent a wave of jealousy through him. His body demanded he claim her, brand her for all time as his. He battled the sensation. Forcing himself on her right now would show him only as the worthless jerk he thought he was. Shay’s breathing evened. She swallowed hard then pulled away and looked at him. Kyle couldn’t look away. Love. Need. Desire. It all shone in her eyes. With Shay looking at him like that he felt like Superman defeating Lex Luthor, like the good guy he always tried to be. “Kyle.” She breathed his name, a single word full of hope. Her hand shook as she reached for him, tracing two fingers over the plane of cheek and jaw. “You won’t go away like Marcy, will you?” Aw hell, the one question he couldn’t answer without hurting her, and he’d be damned if he was going to lie to her now. “I don’t want to.” Reaching out, he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I don’t want to but I might have to. Once we find 99

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Armond and bring him to justice and figure out what happened to Marcy, I might not have any choice.” He held her close, afraid if he loosened his grip she’d slip from his grasp. “Sage received a body. Teri says she doesn’t know how, except it must have been from the work he did bringing Lu-Marc to justice. Surely the Goddess will give you one too.” Shay squeezed her eyes closed and held him even tighter. Had he still lived, he might have had trouble breathing. As it was, he welcomed the pleasure-pain of her embrace. “I don’t want to let you go,” she whispered against his chest. “I don’t want to let you go either,” he answered. Caressing her cheek, he brought her gaze back to his. “And I’ll fight with everything in me not to leave, even if the Fates themselves decree it.” He sealed his words with a kiss. His lips moved across hers, tender enough to evoke a sigh of pleasure. Shay’s lips parted, and his tongue slipped inside. He tasted the salt from her tears, and wished he could wipe them away. Her hands clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Cupping the back of her head, he held her still for the kiss, deepened the angle, and showed her with mouth and tongue how much he cared for her. And care he did. Her body relaxed against him, fingers slipping over his shoulder to twine around his neck. The feel of her soft breasts pressing against his chest, her gentle fingers, only reminded him of the harsh man he’d been when alive, and how much that harshness was a part of him. Even living, his world had contained dark people, events so twisted and horrific he never wanted to think of them again. Shay brought light into his life. His beacon, she reminded him of life itself. He couldn’t break her heart further by making love to her. He cupped her chin, trying to ignore her heavy breaths. A quick glance showed the points of her nipples against her shirt, and he forced himself to look in her face. Desire and love shone in the depths of her eyes. “I meant it when I said I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” he whispered. She pulled away with a mew of protest. Wrapping her arms around herself, she glared at him. “No. You’ll stay. You’ll get a body.” “Shay, I don’t want to hurt you, but I am not going to lie to you. I’ve done things—” “Horrible things. Things no man should have done. I’ve heard it. I get it!” Shay bolted to her feet. She stared at him, and he wondered which was worse, the simmering pain and anger he evoked or the sight of love in her eyes. She shook her head. “Out! Just get out!” Kyle reached for her. “Shay, please.” She scurried backwards. “Get out. I need to think. Maybe all this was crazy. Maybe I should just let Marcy go and get on with my life.” She presented her back to him and faced the wall. Her words tore him apart. He stood there, staring at the tense line of her shoulders, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. When she didn’t turn around, he did.

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Slowly, he walked out of her bedroom. He’d go as far as the living room, but he wouldn’t leave. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt Shay, and now he had.

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Chapter Twelve Meeting at Roger’s home only underscored the differences between them. Looking around the suburban living room with its cream carpet and black leather couch and loveseat, Armond tried to remind himself that some Americans had better taste than this one. Not an antique in sight, and he’d bet most of his ill-gotten gains Roger knew less about fine furniture than he did about fine wines. The half-empty bottle of 2000 vintage White Zinfandel sitting on a wooden tray in the center of the coffee table said Roger was cheap and bought his wine at a grocery store. Not a promising trait for someone with a taste for the finer things. Armond glanced at his half-empty glass and wondered if going to the bathroom to rinse the horrific taste out of his mouth would piss off his host too much. Tap water held more flavor than this crap Roger insisted on serving. “You’ve given me some very good information,” Armond lied and wondered again why he still continued associating with this peon. Moving on looked more and more profitable each day. “You know I’m always pleased to help,” Roger replied. He drank rather than sipped the last of the wine from his goblet and set it on the tray. Armond tried not to look bored. Did the man not know it wasn’t polite to drink more than a guest? He rose to his feet. Time to end this charade before he lost the last traces of civilization he held. “I’m going to take care of things from now on.” Armond set his glass down on the tray. “And next time, make sure you provide some decent wine. I’m tired of your failings, and I’m tired of your excuses. You promised me drug money. Lots of it. From what I’ve seen I could maybe send a member of my staff to McDonald’s.” “B-B-But I’ve given you three hundred thousand dollars. That’s a bit more than a trip to a fast-food restaurant,” Roger sputtered. His face reddened. “In your country, maybe. But if I don’t have half a million dollars by the end of the month, I’m going to head back to the Continent. You Americans bore me.” Armond waved dismissively to Roger and strolled out of the house. “Oh, and don’t worry any more about Marcy’s little friend. I’ll be handling that as well.” Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and swept outside. Roger stood in the hallway. Armond felt Roger’s glare until the door slammed closed. Without looking back he strolled down the sidewalk to his car parked in Roger’s driveway. The plebian suburban neighborhood filled with bourgeoisie depressed him. They thought living here in their perfect neighborhoods brought them happiness and status. Like ants clamoring to bring food back to the nest, these people had no idea of the wider world and the truths it contained.

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***** The empty house mocked Shay. Sitting at her dining room table, she tried not to look out the window into her empty backyard. A few sparrows picked at her flowerbeds, and a crow sat on a power line near the alley. The lonely caw of the huge black bird filled the air. No traffic passed her home, and aside from the steady whirring of the refrigerator, she heard no other noises. Kyle had left. During the night, when sleep eluded her, she felt his presence. As she tossed and turned in the bed, she thought of the myriad ways Kyle could soothe her to sleep. His hands, so gentle, might rub her back, or perhaps they’d continue where they’d left off, and he’d make love to her until she fell into a sated slumber. Just thinking about it made her regret her hasty words last night. She stared into her rapidly cooling coffee mug with its congealing lumps of creamer. The walls closed in on her, reminding her of the fateful afternoon when she stepped into her backyard. Promising Kyle she wouldn’t leave the house seemed too easy, just a few words to placate him. Now, looking into the depths of a cold mug of coffee, she knew better. She had to get out. Shay sipped her drink then grimaced. Why anyone would buy iced coffees, she didn’t know. She rose to her feet and poured the rest of the mug down the sink. She slung her purse over her shoulder, decided jeans and a T-shirt made suitable clothing for being seen in public, and walked to the garage. She opened the dining room door and stopped. Something didn’t feel right. She looked to her car then along the wall. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. Mentally, she called herself a hundred kinds of chicken, as she descended the stairs, pulling the door closed behind her. It locked with a soft click. She bent to fish her car keys from her purse. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement to her left. She stopped, turned, and came face to face with a burly man holding a gun. She bolted for the door. A hand reached out and snagged her arm, hauling her forcibly back to the men. His partner stepped up behind her, and the touch of cool metal on the back of her neck made her still. “Don’t move, bitch,” he growled. His free hand clamped around her mouth, pressing her back against the barrel of the gun. “And don’t make a sound.” Shay bit his hand. “Don’t touch me,” she growled. She lunged for the door, heedless of the gun pressing in the back of her head. To give in to these thugs, to passively let them take her wherever they wanted grated against everything she held dear. She kicked back, catching her assailant in the knee. “You bitch,” he barked. Shay barreled into the man standing before her. He staggered backwards. She whirled away toward her car. Reaching into her purse, she pressed the garage door opener. If nothing else then perhaps someone would witness her assault. She elbowed the man who had pressed a gun to her head. He reached out and snagged her arm.

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Shay opened the car door. She flung her purse inside, keeping the keys in her hand. Holding them between her thumb and forefinger, she jabbed at the man’s eyes. He released her to protect his face, and she scurried behind the wheel and jammed the key into the lock. Her hands shook so badly it took three times but the key clicked home. The barrel of a gun poked through the open window. “Move one muscle and I’ll blow your head off.” Shay swallowed hard. She watched through the windshield as the second man struggled to his feet. Behind her, the garage door rattled to a stop, fully open. A black luxury sedan sat in her driveway, trunk facing the garage. “You’re not going to get away with this.” She spoke softly, evenly, not wanting to reveal her fear. The click of a safety being removed echoed in the garage. Two men. Two guns. Getting away wouldn’t be as easy. “Get out of the car. I want your hands where I can see them.” He gestured with the gun. “Okay. Just don’t shoot me. I’m reaching for the car door,” Shay said, thinking it best to announce what she was doing to the men with the guns. For a moment, she thought about lying down on the seat, jamming the car in reverse, turning it on, and getting the hell out of there. With two guns trained on her, if she did, Shay knew she wouldn’t emerge alive. Death wasn’t an option. She opened the car door, and slowly stepped outside. She glanced behind her, but no one cruised by on the street, and no one peered out their windows. So much for watchful neighbors. At some unseen signal the second man ran around the car, opened the passenger door then reached in her purse. Walking around the car, he stopped beside her, wrenched her arms behind her back then slapped a piece of duct tape on her mouth. He pressed a button and the trunk swung open. Picking her up as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, he slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, and carried her to the car. The other man walked behind her, his gun pressed into the back of her head. Moments later the man dropped her into the trunk. She winced as her elbow came down hard on the metal, and a nut from the spare tire cover bit into her side. He quickly wound duct tape around her wrists. “Don’t move, bitch, or I’ll shoot you.” With that parting remark, he slammed down the trunk lid. Moments later Shay heard the car start and pull out of her driveway. She wiggled, trying to move close enough to kick out a taillight or thump in the truck. She pumped her legs, kicking the side of the car, the lid, anything she could reach. If only she hadn’t disobeyed Kyle’s orders and decided to leave. If only she hadn’t driven him away with her talk of his gaining a body. Closing her eyes, Shay reached for a well of strength deep inside her and knew she must survive. For Kyle.

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***** Ready to apologize, hell, even tell her he was receiving a body, Kyle slipped through the front door. He really ought to ask for a key, even though he didn’t have any place to conceal it. Still, if Shay could deal with him then the least he could do was deal with passing through her door on a regular basis. An empty house greeted him. Her book, still spine up on the coffee table, sat undisturbed. The ticking of the living room clock filled the air. “Shay?” he called. Silence. Reminding himself of the hurt he’d caused her, he strode through the house checking every room, then searching again just to be sure he hadn’t missed her. She wasn’t in the backyard tending her flowers, and wasn’t in the house. Kyle growled. Even after his orders, all his warnings, she’d gone out alone. When he caught up with her, he’d make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. He strode to the garage, not expecting to see her car there. A quick trip through the door, and he stopped. Her car sat empty. He glanced in the windows, noticing her purse spilled on the front seat. Her car keys dangled from the ignition. The car door stood open but other than the spilled purse and forgotten keys, he saw no signs of a struggle. His reluctance to move on Armond until he had more information came back to bite him in the ass. Kyle pulled the keys from the ignition then gathered the contents of her purse. As he closed the garage door, he kicked himself for not noticing it was open. Shay often opened the garage door though, said she didn’t want to fuss with the door if she had to run an errand. He closed the car door and returned to the house. Where’d she go? He doubted she left on foot, which left by car. She could have left hours ago, or mere minutes. Being a ghost, it wasn’t like he could pound on doors until he got answers, and even then her neighbors might not have seen anything. He did know who took her, or at least had a pretty damn good guess. Not that yuppie banker, Roger. He lacked the balls to do something like kidnap Shay. Armond. Fear gripped Kyle with an icy claw. That bastard would do anything to her, and all because of him. No, not again. He wouldn’t let a second woman die because of loving him. Shay loved him. Deep in his soul he knew she loved him. Why else would she be so bound and determined that he have a body? If it was just the sex, she’d take him as he was. After all, he had the physical responses of a man, and could give her everything she wanted without the worry of pregnancy. If he had a body, then they’d have to take precautions. She wanted more than sexual gymnastics. She wanted a home, a family, all the things he couldn’t give her in his current state. He shook. For so long he thought about nothing but loving Marcy. But she was dead, and nothing they did would bring her back. Without a body he had nothing to offer Shay, nothing but himself. His love. Kyle squeezed his eyes closed and let the emotions roll through him. He loved her, and was more sure of that fact than anything in his life. He ached to hold her. He wanted to pull her into the circle of his arms and tell her how he felt. Wanted to look

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into her eyes while they were making love and feel her pussy milking his cock as she climaxed over and over again. Wanted to sit beside her in the backyard and watch their children play. Wanted everything that came with love, the pleasure and the pain of it all. Now, he might never have that chance. Kyle pounded his fist on the counter. Find Shay, bring her back, tell her that he loved her. Nothing mattered beyond those simple tasks. Only they might not be so simple. Armond lived in a gated community in a home larger than any he’d ever seen before, and who knew if Shay might be there, or in the office building, or somewhere else. Sitting around Shay’s home and mooning over how he loved her wouldn’t bring her back to him safe and sound. And even if she did accept his love, right now he had nothing to offer. No future. Because when this mission was done, the Fates would call in their marker and he’d move on to whatever awaited him. Heaven or hell, it didn’t matter, because it wouldn’t be with Shay. Mentally Kyle reviewed what he knew of Armond’s downtown office building. The other tenants made it unlikely he’d keep a prisoner there, even if he soundproofed a room, or had a hidden panic room. Although criminals knew better than to dirty their own nest, they also were smart about not bringing more people than necessary into their activities. No, the office building provided a nice, legitimate-looking front to Armond’s operations. His home made a more likely choice. Not Roger’s. Nothing Kyle saw there indicated it could be used for anything other than living, and as a bank officer, Kyle doubted Roger wanted anything unsavory to happen in his vicinity. More likely he directed it, created markets and channels, but never touched anything illegal directly. A man like him lacked the will to get his hands dirty. Destination in mind, Kyle sent a prayer to the Fates that he wouldn’t be too late, and raced out the door toward Armond’s house.

***** After riding in the trunk of the car for what seemed like an eternity but must have only been ten minutes, Shay decided to risk her captors’ wrath. After all, even if the men tried to shoot her, the bullet had to go through the seat and the trunk wall, and probably lots of metal. Even not knowing much about bullets, she knew that was a lot of stuff, and the bullet could go in any number of directions. Including into her. Shay struggled to breathe around the duct tape on her mouth and fought her rising panic. Not taking the chance might also kill her. Closing her eyes, she focused her attention on the taillights of the car. She kicked her feet forward. Her sneakers collided with a resounding thump. A crash? Shay couldn’t be certain. She waited, and when she heard nothing from the passenger compartment of the car, kicked again. And again. Like a fish on a line, she flung her body into the trunk of the car. Her elbow hit the trunk lid with a solid thump. Pain radiated through her arm. Shay ignored it. If she failed, if she died, the pain would be much worse.

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Shay listened, heard the thump as something struck the backseat of the car. She flattened herself, half afraid at any moment that the men would change their minds and kill her. Her heart pounded. Her breathing came hard and fast, she tried to open her mouth to pull in more oxygen, and when she couldn’t, panic bubbled. Oh Goddess, she was going to die. Shay waited. Nothing happened. A muffled curse from the front seat, then Shay heard nothing but road noise. The car stopped, waited a few minutes, then continued onward. Fear snaked through her, closing around her gut with a cold fist. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. They didn’t care about anyone but themselves, and she was in their hands. The smell of asphalt and oil filled her nose. The luxury car glided over the pavement, the road noise lessening. Shay closed her eyes, focusing on the movement of the car. They’d turned right out of her driveway then wound through so many city streets she felt as if they drove in circles. A burgeoning headache pounded at her temples. Her shoulders ached from being wrenched back with her hands bound, and her feet hurt from where they collided with the back of the trunk. Her mouth tasted like cotton balls and adhesive. The unpleasant combination threatened to choke her. Slumped against the floor of the trunk, she admitted she had no idea where the men had driven. She only hoped Kyle realized she was gone and came looking for her. Right now, he was her only hope, and she hated the helpless feeling the thought evoked. Shortly thereafter, the car rolled to a stop. How long she’d lain in the trunk, Shay didn’t know. Time crawled, and what might have only been five minutes felt like five hours. Twin car doors slammed. Shay winced at the noise reverberating through her skull. Forcing her limbs to lie still, she tried to relax against the bottom of the car. The men had to move her, and she didn’t want to make it easy on them. Footfalls, too many to be just her two captors, sounded around the car. The trunk lid popped open, revealing a sliver of sunlight. Shay blinked against the sudden brightness. A gloved hand reached for the lid and pulled it all the way open. Shay recognized the man looking down at her as the one who had threatened to shoot her when he dropped her in the trunk. “We should have killed her,” he commented with a grunt. Shay glared defiantly at him. Bound, she had nothing else to do. He reached for her. Shay winced away then realized what she was doing. She focused on relaxing every muscle in her body, to make herself as boneless as possible. Large hands grabbed her under the shoulders. The man grunted as he lifted her, the motion pulling her muscles tight. Shay refused to wince in pain, and instead hung like a rag doll. It might hurt like hell, but she wasn’t going to make it easy. With her head clear of the trunk lid—Shay was surprised the man even watched for it—he swung her over his shoulder. The jolt punched her midsection, shoving the air 107

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from her lungs. Shay struggled to breathe through her nose, the tape over her mouth suffocating her. Her captor strode forward, oblivious to her discomfort. His partner flanked him, and three men brought up the rear. Seemed like a lot of men to subdue one woman, but Shay wasn’t going to argue. Not if the men’s presence meant she worried Roger or Armond. She had no doubts, after everything she’d been through, that one of the two men, if not both of them, were behind her capture. She watched the ground pass beneath her, shifting from the concrete driveway to a flagstone walk. Not in the front door, apparently, for her captor took a path around the house. From her vantage point, she saw the manicured green lawns, and trimmed hedges growing alongside the house. Then someone opened a side door, and she was carried downstairs into a basement. Through two more doors, and she found herself in a small, concrete room. Her captor set her down none too gently. He ripped the tape from her mouth. Shay cried out with pain. Tears stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks. He pulled a syringe from his pocket. A quick poke, and he shoved the clear liquid into her bloodstream. Immediately, Shay’s world grew fuzzy. The room swayed. She’d been drugged. Behind her, the man unbound her wrists and cut the tape away from her ankles then backed out of the room. Shay sank to the ground and her world went dark.

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Chapter Thirteen “Very good, boys,” Armond said, hands clasped before him. He stared at the five men—two young lieutenants and three guards. “If you want something done right, then do it yourself, that’s what I always say.” Looking down at the woman lying on the concrete, he fought a Cheshire-cat grin. Once Kyle learned she was gone, he’d stop at nothing to come after her. Getting information from her would be sweet. His gaze dropped to her chest, slowly rising and falling in drugged sleep. Her breasts pressed against the fabric, and he wondered how sweet it would be to palm one. His hands itched to touch her but he liked his women awake, even if they weren’t willing. His cock stirred in his pants, and he willed it to behave. “The drug will wear off in a couple of hours,” Armond said. “When you have signs that she’s awake, let me know. She has information I want.” “Yes, sir.” The guard saluted Armond. “You two come with me.” Armond pointed at the two lieutenants. “You did very well.” He watched the men preen under his attention. So fallible, so sure of their own worth. He could order them killed right now, and they’d thank him for it even as the bullet bore into their pitiful little brains. Stupid men, easily led, but perfect for his plans. He pointed at the third guard. “Do something with the car. I don’t want it traced back here.” The guard saluted. “You two guard the door. The instant she wakes, I want to be called. Is that clear?” “Yes, sir,” both men nearly shouted. They saluted and took up positions in the hall on either side of the door. Armond closed the door. It slammed home with a heavy thud. Taking a key out of his pocket, he locked the door, then flipped the heavy hasp and fastened a second padlock. Even if she had the strength of ten men, she wouldn’t be able to leave the room. He fixed each guard standing watch with a cold, hard look then, turning on his heel, strode upstairs to his office. The two guards followed him. Once he was inside, with the door closed behind him and ensconced in a huge leather chair, Armond studied the two men. Known for being followers, they lacked the skills necessary to advance in his organization. He liked smart men. Men who could think on their feet and tackle any problem. Instead, these two ran around like dogs pointed at a given task. With the task finished, they lacked initiative. He hated them. “Go back to my downtown offices,” Armond said, wanting them as far away from the main action as possible. He had a plan for those offices. A bomb secreted in the roof. Should he desire that particular liability gone, a few simple computer commands would

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take care of the issue. “I want you to wait for Kyle there. I have a man already in place who will warn you of Kyle’s approach. If he approaches, don’t let him get away.” “Yes, sir,” the “leader” of the two said. “But Kyle’s a ghost, sir. How are we to take out a ghost?” Armond shrugged. “Figure it out for yourselves. I’m sure you’ll think of something. Of course, if you don’t, I’ll have you killed.” He hated being direct. The bluntness these Americans employed sickened him. Soon it would be finished, and he could return to his home country. He tired of these people’s games. The men hesitated only a moment then nodded and left. Armond watched them go. He picked up the phone and punched in Roger’s phone number. Now to take care of one more liability. He’d enjoy placing Roger in the line of fire. One more stupid person eradicated from his organization. Sometimes, he liked his job.

***** Nausea rolled through Shay’s stomach. Opening her eyes, she saw gray. Walls, floor, ceiling, all of it gray. Through cloudy vision, she discerned she was alone in the room. Something metal hung on the wall beside her, and a heavy gray metal door had no handles on the inside. Bracing her hands beneath her, Shay struggled to rise. Her stomach rebelled. She clamped her lips together, trying not to vomit. Her lips burned, cheeks red from the abrasion of the duct tape. Her muscles trembled. As weak as a newborn baby, she rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. The room whirled around her. Shadows caught Shay’s vision. She turned, and saw a grate at the bottom of the door, through which she saw movement. Determined, she hauled herself onto all fours. Inch by agonizing inch, trying not to dry heave, she crawled to the door. She blinked her eyes. The cloudiness dissipated a little, though the light burned spots before her eyes. She spat, her mouth dry and tasting like old tennis shoes. Two men stood sentry outside the door—one human, one astral. A third man, human, paced. She supposed she ought to feel pride that it took three men to watch her in a locked room. Obviously someone thought she might be a danger. Slowly, she backed away and examined her surroundings. She sat in a small room, maybe ten feet square. Heavy metal hooks protruded from one wall, the concrete rusty-looking as if someone hadn’t quite been able to get the stains out. Shudders raced down her spine. Her gorge rose, and Shay leaned away as she lost what little food remained in her stomach. Shuffling steps sounded outside. “I think she’s up,” a muffled voice said. “I’ll tell Armond.” Shay stiffened. Armond. The man Kyle warned her against, he was the one who kept her prisoner. She whimpered then pressed her fist to her mouth to stop the noise. How long had she been here? Without sight of outside, and no watch, time lost its meaning. Kyle might have come home to discover her missing, or he might not even 110

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know. Tears of hopelessness pricked her eyes. Shay blinked them away. She refused to be helpless. Surely there was something she could do, anything to free herself, or at least make her captivity bearable. She inched around the puddle of her vomit and took stock of her body. She still wore her clothes, and aside from a few bruises, felt unharmed. Reaching into the pocket of her pants, she wrapped her fingers around a tiny slip of paper on which she’d written a “to do” list. Shay exhaled. In spite of her surroundings, looking at the mundane chores gave her a sense of normalcy, a feeling that she might make it out alive after all. She stuffed the paper back in her pocket. The door opened. “Get back,” a man growled, speaking to her as one would speak to a dog. Shay watched as a short man, probably no more than five-foot-six, stepped inside. He looked like a wrestler, squat with corded muscles. A taller man, slender, with a gaunt face, followed him. Both were human. “Stand up,” the wrestler ordered. “Armond wants to see you.” “All right,” Shay said. She focused her attention on her aching muscles and slowly worked to her feet. She swayed and wished she had something with which to steady herself. Wrestler grabbed her arms and wrenched them behind her back. He wrapped a thin bit of plastic around them. Shay tested her bonds, realizing she’d been tied with a cable tie. Shackles went around her ankles, chains like a prisoner would wear. Grabbing her elbow, he led her forward. Shay stumbled, her balance still uncertain. Neither of her captors seemed to care. Instead, he hauled her outside the door and into a utilitarian-looking foyer. He opened another door, and she saw what looked like a rec room or wine cellar. A bar sat in one corner, stools tucked in beneath the edge of the counter. A pool table filled the other corner along with a big-screen TV and a sound system. If it hadn’t been for the men on each arm, and her knowledge of Armond, she might have thought this to be any suburban basement. She half expected a football game to be playing. Instead, the two men pulled her into a corner and sat her down in a hard wooden chair. They fastened her legs to the chair, then pulled her hands down over the back and fastened them. The two men backed away until they stood about three paces from her. Heavy footsteps announced the arrival of someone else. Shay watched as a burly man, his lined face still youthful-looking, walked down the stairs. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, his shoes polished to a shine. Shay hated him on sight. Looking at him, she thought only of her best friend’s suicide. He looked too polished to be a criminal, as if under that smooth exterior a monster lay in wait. Pressing her lips together, Shay vowed not to tell him a thing, no matter what he did to her. Armond stopped before her. He nodded to the two men. “You are dismissed.” With crisp salutes, the men left. 111

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Armond drew his fingers over her cheek. The caress reminded Shay of a snake slithering through the grass. “Very nice. I think you and I will get along just fine.” He stroked her chin. His touch sickened her. She stared at him, defiance oozing from every pore on her body. Armond grinned. “You have fire. I like that. It’ll make breaking you so much fun.” His touch slid over her shoulder, down to her breasts. Shay refused to close her eyes, though her stomach heaved. Armond’s touch sickened her. Please, Kyle. Please be on the way. With chin held high, she met his gaze, certain whatever torture he dealt, she could handle. Armond’s fingers worked back toward her face. He can’t hurt me. It’s only flesh. He can’t touch my soul. From deep within her, she drew a reservoir of strength and dared Armond to do his worst.

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Chapter Fourteen Hiding behind a privacy hedge, Kyle watched Armond’s property. The approach along the fence looked guarded, and he saw ghostly guards mixed in with the live ones. The garage had a door in the back, and right now, only one man leaned nonchalantly next to it smoking a cigarette. He watched the man flick the butt to the ground, stamp it out with his foot, then turn and go inside. No other guards appeared. Kyle frowned. Could it really be so easy? He shook his head and scurried across the yard, passing through the bushes, and stopped by the back door. He stopped and listened for voices and heard none. If men were in the garage, and Kyle had no doubt there were, he couldn’t hear them. He passed through the door. As soon as he was through, he ducked behind the fender of a Lincoln Navigator and watched. One ghost guard looked back toward the door. Three men stood outside a door leading to the house, talking in loud voices about a poker game. Kyle crept along the car, hoping to keep the metal bulk between him and the one guard he knew could see him. He darted behind a Mercedes, working toward the door. The ghost guard stopped. He looked then motioned and one of the men stepped away from the group. Kyle realized the man was clairvoyant. He wondered how many psychics Armond had in his pay. Hand signals, none of them good, and the guard moved toward the back of the Mercedes. Kyle wished he had a gun. He reached for his hip, still feeling naked without his weapon after his time as a spirit. Kyle bolted from behind the car. He caught the guard unawares, his punch sending the man reeling against the car. The gun clattered from his fingers, and instinctively, Kyle dove for it. He came up, gun poised, the guard’s chest in his sights. “You don’t want to do this,” the ghost guard said. “We were told to look for you, to wait for you. Don’t burn bridges you didn’t even know you had.” He reached for Kyle’s gun. “Hand it over.” Without turning the barrel from the man standing before him, Kyle shook his head. “What bridges?” He glanced at the ghost wearing camouflage pants and a black shirt, his black hair cut short against his head. “You think I want to join you?” Behind him he felt the presence of the other guards coming to aid. “Anybody moves, I’ll shoot. Tell ‘em if they can’t hear me.” “Don’t come any closer,” the guard said. His voice wavered. The ghost crept closer. Suppressing a growl of frustration, Kyle pulled the trigger, turned to the spirit and shot again. He pivoted and fired off three more rounds. Without waiting to see where the bodies fell he raced for the door, his plans for quiet blown to hell. He grabbed the 113

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door handle, yanked, and ran through the opening. He closed the door behind him and locked it. At least if the ghost needed to get through, he’d have to do it without the hardware. His blood hummed with a need to find Shay. A kitchen area sat on his left, on his right a hallway leading to a bathroom and another room. Guessing the room abutted the front of the house, Kyle crept down the hallway. He saw no one, nothing to indicate this wasn’t a plain suburban house. Stairs. Going up and down. Kyle paused. A dark basement made the perfect place to hold a prisoner. Walls and earth muffled cries well and kept the activities out of the light of day. No doubt upstairs boasted bedrooms, and possibly an attic for storage or a conservatory. Four guards, all human, came running out of what might be a living room before him. Kyle held up the weapon. The men went for theirs. Four shots, and more bodies added to his death toll. Kyle ignored their lifeless faces. Right now he focused on saving Shay. Anything he had to do to get to that point, he’d do it, even if it meant killing everyone. Anger poured through his blood, a need for vengeance so great it nearly overrode his common sense. He started down the stairs then stopped. If he went down there he’d only leave enemies, a whole hell of a lot of them, at his back. He glanced down the stairs as if he could see Shay there. Hold on, baby, I’m coming. He took the stairs two at a time as he ran to the second floor. A guard waited on the landing. A spirit guard holding a very real gun. Kyle knew he was a ghost, yet staring down the barrel of the 9mm filled him with a cold fear. For Shay! The rallying cry filled his mind and he barreled forward. His left shoulder caught the ghost in the chest, and he tumbled backwards. Kyle kicked the gun off the landing and ran forward. He had to clear the building and find Shay. Behind him, the ghost groaned. Kyle paused and looked over his shoulder. The guard staggered to his feet and charged up the stairs. A well-placed kick sent him tumbling back again to smack against the railings. Kyle hurried to the second floor. A quick sweep showed no one, not even a guard. The third floor showed much of the same. A showplace home with no one living in it. For what purpose did Armond have this house, except to serve as headquarters and opulent living spaces? Kyle wondered if Armond’s neighbors knew about the criminal living in their midst, then decided they must not. After all, no one got to know his neighbors these days. Pleased he’d left no one behind him, he hurried downstairs, past the still prone guard on the landing. Kyle gripped the gun loosely in his right hand, a comforting presence. He focused on his objective to find Shay and get the hell out of there. Then, his mission would be complete.

***** A hand on her back propelled Shay into her cell. She stumbled forward, her hands, now tied in front, thrust out before her to catch her fall. Behind her, the door clanked closed. A bolt slid home, locking her in. Shay sank against the wall, feeling the concrete

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cool against her cheek. She shook with fear. Her heart hammered in her chest. Armond scared her. The threat implicit in his words worried her more than anything she’d faced before. Beatings, death, all of it paled beneath the threat of rape. Shay swallowed hard. She slid down the wall until she sat on the floor with her legs pulled tight against her body. Resting her bound wrists on her knees, she stared at them. She had to get out. Somehow, someway, with or without Kyle, she had to free herself. She couldn’t sit there waiting for him to come, if he even did come. Not with Armond’s threats fresh in her memory. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Shay listened and watched the flash of shadow through the grate in the door. Normal guard movement, at least what she’d been able to discern in her short time in the cell. She didn’t like it. Sitting there stewing only increased her worry and got nothing done. She rose to her feet, determined to do something. Shay paced her cell. The tiny room offered little space for movement, but she made the most of it, counting out each stride. The numbers rolled in her mind, something to keep the worrying part of her mind busy so she could think of a plan. Stepping along the perimeter of her cell, she glanced back to the grate. The guards still stood there. If they noticed her movement, they did nothing. She had to escape. Looking down at her bound hands, she fought a frustrated growl. Shay twisted her hands. The cable tie tightened around her wrists, and she yanked at it, fighting it like a feral dog fights a leash. Bringing her wrists to her teeth, she fought to chew the offending plastic away. Nothing worked. She reined in her frustration, not wanting her motions to alert the guards outside. The guards stopped, and Shay hurried toward the back of the cell. She dropped her hands before her, wrists pressed against her thighs. She didn’t want them to see where she’d been working at her bonds. Murmurs of conversation drifted to her ears. A muffled bang sounded overhead. Shay’s heart leapt. For a moment she debated jumping up and down and yelling on the chance Kyle or whoever it was might hear her. Outside her cell, conversation stopped. Shay waited. Her heart pounded in her ears, so loud she thought she might not overhear the guards’ words. She stepped forward, once, twice, in the hopes of hearing some news. Holding her breath, she strained toward the door. Another guard arrived, this one astral. The conversation grew heated until a fourth man joined them, then he left, taking the astral guard with him. “You’re needed elsewhere,” someone said, the tone a direct order. Shay shivered. Could it be? Could Kyle really be here? She shook her head. Even if he were, she needed to get out of there, and get out fast. She glanced down at her bound wrists then scanned the room to see if there were anything she might use. The hooks on the wall. While not perfect, they might give her enough leverage to break her bonds. She scurried over and knelt before them, trying not to think about who might have been bound here for what purposes.

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She looped her wrists over the hook, pressing it against where she’d been working. She hauled hard on her bonds. Plastic bit into her skin. Still, she pulled, hoping that sheer force alone would be enough. After long moments, she relaxed the pressure. Not even a dent marred the plastic, none except the small impressions her teeth had made. If she had to gnaw at it like a bear in a trap she would. Her wrist brushed against the sharp edge of the hook, drawing a thin line of blood. Shay pressed the point of the hook against the plastic and pulled again. Maybe she wouldn’t have to chew her way out. The tie slipped off the metal. The edge of the hook slid into the palm of her hand. Shay bit her lip to keep from crying out. Bringing her hand to her lips, she licked off the blood and saw the wound was a small scrape and puncture. The tie slipped against her slick skin. Heartened, she pulled again. Another slip, another scratch. Shay worked again. At last the point of the hook penetrated the plastic. She smiled triumphantly and started working the hook through the plastic. At last, it exited the side, giving her a bit more room. She tried again. The plastic parted until only a thin strip separated it. Bringing her wrists to her mouth, she bit through the remaining plastic and spit out the tiny piece that had come off in her mouth. Freed, she rubbed her shoulders and arms in an attempt too alleviate some of the pain that had crept into sore muscles. Shay crawled over to the door. She listened and watched the shadows. Another guard went away, leaving only one man to guard the door. Every instinct screamed at her to act now. She pounded on the door. “He has a bomb! I know where it is,” she said through the grate, then pounded on the door again. “What?” the guard turned around. “Be quiet in there.” He kicked the door. “He has a bomb. Do you want to die too?” Shay waited while the guard processed her words. “Where is it?” “Let me out and I’ll tell you.” She held her breath, afraid the guard wouldn’t fall for her ploy. “Why should I?” “Because if you don’t, you’ll die like the rest of them.” Another sharp report, clearly identifiable as gunshots, filled the air. “Let me out.” Shay worked to keep her rising panic from showing in her voice. Her palms sweated, the salty liquid stinging her cuts. “Come on. Let me out.” A hoarse shout sounded above them. The guard shifted his weight from one foot to another. “All right. All right,” he grumbled under his breath. “But don’t do anything stupid.” She heard the snick of the lock and the bolt sliding away. The door opened.

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Chapter Fifteen Shay waited. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the guard as he stepped into the room. His hand hovered over the gun resting on his hip. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if he expected an attack, and Shay figured he had reason to be concerned. He stepped back, leaving the door open a crack. “All right. You’re free. Now, tell me.” He stepped forward to block her exit. Shay shook her head. She strolled toward him, rolling her hips in a suggestive manner. The movement sickened her, but anything to distract the guard long enough for her to attack was a good thing. His gaze slid from her breasts down her legs, the smarmy look feeling like a greasy hand caressing her body. Shay fought her revulsion. She dropped her center of gravity and raced forward. Her shoulder caught the man in the chest, plowing him backwards. Shay slammed her knee into his groin. The guard grunted in pain. He doubled over, the air whooshing from his lungs. Shay kneed him again. A punch to the nose sent blood streaming over his lips. “You bitch,” he growled, between gasps of air. Shay kneed him in the gut, dropping him to the floor. She stood over the fallen guard, watching him curl into the fetal position. A kick in his already bruised groin only made him moan louder, and fighting the nausea rising in her stomach at the violence, she kicked his chin. His head jerked with a sharp crack. Shay stared, horrified, at the man’s still body. She didn’t think she’d killed him and hastily dropped to her knees beside him. Beneath the two fingers she pressed to his neck, his pulse beat strongly. Not dead, just unconscious. Her gorge rose. Shay swallowed against it, backpedaling away from the spreading pool of blood coming from the man’s nose. She glanced down the empty hall. No one came to check on the commotion, and she wondered if they might be busy upstairs. Quickly, she grabbed the man under his shoulders and pulled him into the room. Shay kept glancing over her shoulder, afraid she might be found out at any moment. Her heart pounded so loudly it drowned out all other sounds. Her sweaty palms slipped on the man’s shirt. With a final grunt, she heaved him into the room. She grabbed the key ring from his belt as she stepped over his body. Shay pulled the door closed, then started to fumble with the keys to lock it. Her hands shook. The keys rattled together. Too many of them on the ring. After trying three of them, Shay gave up. She pocketed the key ring and darted down the hall. Shay stopped when she reached the closed door between her and the outside world. Beyond it, she heard the sound of running feet and barked orders. Her breath

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caught in her throat. Running out there would only get her caught, and she was too close to be stupid now. Shay fingered the keys in her pocket. The other rooms. Her gaze darted back down the hall with its closed doors promising a haven. A crash sounded on the other side of the door. Shay jumped back. She turned, swiveling on her heel, and hurried back down the hallway. At the first door she tried the handle. It turned, and she opened the door to a cell not unlike the one she’d just left. She hurried inside and pulled the door partially closed. With no handle she couldn’t shut it completely, but perhaps she could pull it closed enough so no one would notice. Besides, they expected her to be locked up, and it seemed the rest of the rooms were empty. She hoped so, because if she had the keys and the means to free someone and she didn’t, well, Shay knew she could never forgive herself. Shay pressed a hand to her throat in an attempt to still her fluttering pulse. Her breath came in harsh pants. She tried to quiet her breathing, wished she could calm the fear threatening to overwhelm her. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a breath and held it, then released it. Kyle had to be coming for her. There was an awful lot of noise out there. If she could find him, meet him halfway, then they could get out of here. Armond’s pawing filled her memory. She closed her fingers around the keys. She’d kill herself before she allowed that bastard to hurt her again. Shay squeezed her eyes closed and prayed it didn’t come to that. She’d never got a chance to tell Kyle how sorry she really was.

***** Adrenaline pulsed through his veins. Moving stealthily down the stairs, he paused at the landings before descending again. Kyle held the gun at chest height, barrel straight and level. All his training kicked in, and he could almost feel Sage behind his right shoulder. How many times had they raided a house like this one to flush out the bad guys? Too many times to count, and then it was Sage coming after him. And Sage killed him. Kyle shoved the thought away. He had to focus on Shay. On the last landing before the main floor, Kyle paused. Below him, the sounds of shuffling filtered through the air. Mortal guards, two of them from the sounds of their feet against the floor. Kyle pressed his back against the banister and started to ascend a couple of steps, just enough to keep out of sight. He looked over the landing, down into the main area. A blond man, hair cut military-short, pointed his gun at the ceiling. He stopped by a fallen soldier, not even bothering to check for a pulse. The two gunshot wounds to the chest had taken the need for such measures away. Kyle steadied himself. The blond motioned behind him, and a bald man, his pate shiny in the overhead lights, stepped forward. Not the same men he’d accosted in the garage, and looking at them, Kyle knew he’d never seen them before. More of

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Armond’s henchmen most likely. These two men looked professional, efficient. Roger wouldn’t know how to employ men such as these. Kyle judged the distance from the landing to the floor. The eight-foot drop didn’t bother him as much as the smears of blood on the floor. The mental focus required to hang on to the gun and have a physical presence in the world made him as vulnerable as a mortal to slips and falls. Too bad he hadn’t learned enough to have things both ways. He stepped forward, grabbed the railing, and dropped. Kyle landed on his feet, his knees and ankles taking the impact. He fired, two quick shots, and both men crumpled. More bodies to add to his death count. For a moment Kyle regretted their loss, then he thought of Shay. He hurried around the banister and down the stairs leading to the basement. With his back pressed against the wall, he pointed the gun ahead of him. Movement caught his attention. A man crossed in front of the stairwell, never looking up it. Kyle held his fire. He hadn’t seen Armond or Roger, and the opportunity to corner both men required concentration. His soul burned with a need to go in, guns blazing, and kill everything that moved. The need for caution rode him, a cruel master reminding him at every turn Shay could be dead, or worse. If he shot blindly and killed her, he’d turn the gun on himself and pray for oblivion. If his foolishness got Shay killed, he’d never forgive himself, and a thousand years in hell wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what he deserved. Kyle inched down the stairs. Guard-types moved in the basement below, oblivious to his presence. The lack of astral guards didn’t worry him, only the thought of how he’d get Shay clear once he found her. He stepped onto the carpet. Two figures scuttled into a room and shut the door. They moved too quickly for Kyle to identify them, his attention focused on a guard who went through a separate door. As it opened, Kyle caught a flash of a sterile gray hallway—holding cells—and he bounded after the man. The door closed behind them with a click. The guard stopped. “Who’s there?” he said, whirling to face the door. His eyes widened, his gaze fixed on the gun. He started to backpedal. “Who? What are you?” Kyle grinned. Any other time he might have delighted in the mortal’s terror. “Where’s Shay?” he asked. The man pressed against the far wall and didn’t answer. Kyle rushed forward. He pressed the gun against the man’s head then backed away as a yellow stain started down the man’s pants. Damn it, killing armed guards was one thing, a scared man another. Kyle punched him. One good punch to the jaw, and the man sank to the floor, unconscious. Kyle hurried down the hall. The closed doors called to him. His hand closed around the doorknob when a wet glint down the hall caught his attention. The thick, dark liquid looked suspiciously like blood, and Kyle’s stomach dropped. Shay. 119

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Kyle hurried forward, his world narrowed down to the crimson stains against the gray concrete floor. Dropping to his knees, he fingered the blood, not liking the way it pooled against the wall, as if someone had been injured there. Blood smears led the way to the door, disappearing beneath. His stomach dropped. A few droplets of blood splattered the door. Kyle brought his fingers to his face and squeezed his eyes closed. A lump of emotion lodged in his throat. An image of Shay, her body broken and bloodied, filled his mind. Angrily, he shoved the image aside. He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t. Kyle rose to his feet and looked at the door. His hand shook as he closed his fingers around the doorknob. In his turmoil, his hand slid through the metal. Kyle growled under his breath. He reached for the doorknob again, his hand swiping through. The gun clattered to the floor. “Fuck,” Kyle muttered under his breath. His form grew more incorporeal, and he struggled to give himself enough form to bend over and pick up the gun. A door creaked behind him. Kyle whirled around, the gun dropping again. He crouched, ready for a fight. The empty hallway mocked him. He looked, hoping beyond hope he might see Shay there, intact and unharmed. With a shake of his head, he turned back to the door. He picked up the gun and closed his hand around the doorknob. Bracing his shoulder against the door, he prepared to open it. He closed his eyes. If he looked into that room and saw Shay’s dead body, he didn’t know what he’d do. Probably cry, yell, scream, go berserk, anything to vent his frustration and anger at her needless death, and vow revenge on the men who did it. Kyle shook his head. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Deep inside, he hated himself for selling Shay so short. She was a strong woman, a hell of a woman, and he highly doubted she’d let anyone hurt her without a fight. A door hinge creaked. Kyle turned, looking over his shoulder at a partially open door. “Shay?” he called, half afraid to believe it might be her. Shay’s heart leapt. After hearing rustling in the hallway, she risked a glance only to find Kyle kneeling by the bloodstains. Her stomach twisted at the visible reminder of the violence she’d inflicted. She had saved her life. She’d had no other choice. She swallowed hard. Kyle turned, and the pain and anguish on his face shot straight through her. If only she could open the door and rush into his arms. How many times had she dreamed of it while in her cell? She glanced around and didn’t see anyone, yet she didn’t move. “Kyle?” Shay whispered, afraid if she spoke louder someone might hear them. She pushed the door open a bit wider. “Is the coast clear?” Kyle stepped forward. The gun hung loosely at his side in slightly curled fingers. She looked from it, back to him. 120

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“Is it safe to come out?” Shay ached with a need to be in his arms, to feel him solid against her body. Tears dampened her eyes, and she blinked them away. Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door and rushed forward. Kyle opened his arms. She ran straight into them, burying her head against his chest. “I thought I’d never see you again,” she breathed, pressing tiny featherlight kisses against his chest. Kyle wrapped his arms around her, the gun pressing cold against her back. He kissed her cheek, her temple, her hair, everywhere he could reach. “I thought I lost you,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.” Shay pulled back far enough to look into his eyes. “I’m so sorry I fought with you. I shouldn’t have been so adamant about your getting a body. I’m so sorry.” Shay started to snuggle into him again, but Kyle caught her chin. “No, I should be the one to say I’m sorry. I acted like an ass. None of us can say what will happen, and when I came back to your place to find you gone I—” He leaned down and kissed her. His lips devoured her. He drank from her mouth, the pressure of his lips forcing her to open beneath him. With a moan, Shay leaned against his chest. One palm flattened against where his heart might have beat, and with her other hand, she twined it around his neck as if to never let it go. The caress of his tongue against hers made her knees weaken, and had she not been clinging to Kyle she might have fallen. His hands tightened around her. A groan rose from deep within his chest. His cock pressed hard and urgent against her. She loved him and had nearly lost him. Never again did she want to go through the feeling of not knowing if she’d ever see him again. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Shay pulled her lips from his and sucked in air. Shit, Armond. “We can’t. Not yet.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder. “I want you so badly.” Her hips gave an involuntary jerk. “Baby, don’t do that.” Kyle stilled, and Shay felt the struggle inside him to calm himself. “Damn, you’re right.” Slowly, he caressed her ass and legs, inviting her to lower them to the ground. She did, her knees as shaky as a newborn colt’s. “I’m sorry.” She tried to step away from the insistent pressure of the wall against her back. The gun lay forgotten by Kyle’s feet, and she wondered when it had fallen. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll fuck you all night long.” Kyle grinned. “That’s a promise.” He bent and picked up the gun. “Stay behind me.” He inched down the hallway until they reached the doorway. He glanced back at her once then opened the door.

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Chapter Sixteen Shay fought to hold her ground. She watched, horrified, as the door opened. There, framed by the opening, stood Roger. A grin split his face, and he stepped forward. “Shay, how nice to see you. Thought you could escape, did you? I know all about your little boyfriend now. Too bad he couldn’t come and save you.” Roger held his hands out in a gesture of peace. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll— Kyle raised his gun and fired. Shay jerked at the sound of bullets. “Get down!” Kyle yelled. He barreled forward, heedless of the man standing before him. Roger’s body jerked. Twin red spots blossomed on his chest, and he looked down. Eyes wide, he touched the fatal wounds. “I didn’t—” He crumpled, eyes blank and unseeing. Bubbles formed at the corner of his mouth, he jerked, and died. “Kyle!” Shay screamed. She raised her gaze from the dead body to see Armond standing there, a smoking gun in his hands. Torn between self-protection and to ensure Kyle’s safety, Shay forced herself to creep forward. At Roger’s dead body she paused. Her hand shook as she reached for him, checking the pulse point at his wrist. Nothing, no telltale pounding of blood through the veins to indicate life. Shay shuddered. She bit her lip and fought the desire to recoil from the corpse. He’d been engaged to her best friend. Deep inside, she knew she ought to feel some sort of remorse, some feeling that a human life had passed. She didn’t, and knew it to be because in all probability this man had gotten her best friend killed. Skirting the body, she crawled around it and followed Kyle. He gestured for her to stop. She did, moving behind him and hugging the wall. She forced herself to stare anywhere instead of at the dead body. Shay pressed against the wall, hand pressed to her chest as if she could stop the pounding of her heart. Kyle stood there, watching as Armond faced him, a gun in hand. “Kyle,” she whispered. He looked over his shoulder at her. Love and loss filled his eyes, and in his heartwrenching gaze, Shay could read his intent. If he had to sacrifice himself to save her, he would, without a second thought, no looking back. Shay’s heart leapt into her throat. “Be careful,” she whispered, swallowing hard against the tears threatening to trail down her cheeks. “I love you.” Kyle nodded. A quick movement of his head that said “I love you, too, and I’m going to get you out of here”. He strode forward.

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Shay closed her eyes, afraid to look, then opened them again, afraid to miss a single moment. “Let Shay out of here,” Kyle said. Shay sucked in a breath. Her. He only mentioned her. “Let Shay out of here, and you can have what you want.” Armond laughed. The syrupy-sweet tones curdled the blood in Shay’s veins. Listening to them, she knew, one of them wouldn’t be leaving this place. One of them would end up dead. She pressed her knuckles to her lips, afraid to cry out, afraid anything she might do would interfere with the battle about to begin. Kyle shook his head. “I didn’t want to have to do this.” Armond raised the gun. “Shay, down!” Kyle yelled. He dropped and bolted forward, his shoulder catching the heavier man in the chest. Armond staggered under the unexpected blow. He backpedaled, his leather-soled shoes slick on the floor. The gun fired, the bullet going through the ceiling. Shay jerked, but lay pressed against the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, the fluorescent lights glinted off metal near Roger. A gun. Shay crawled forward. Over the dead body, she watched Kyle and Armond grapple. Grunts filled the room. The sound of flesh against flesh punctuated the noises, and Shay swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. She reached for the gun. Her fingers barely closed around the grip, and she pulled it toward her. The pistol lay heavy in her hands as she lifted it. Checking the safety, she saw it was off, a round chambered. Shay pointed the gun. Her hands shook so badly she couldn’t see through the sights. “Damn it!” she growled at herself. “Focus.” Her hands stilled. Biting her lip, she watched the two men. If she had a clear shot, she’d have to take it, and dear Goddess, if she hit Kyle she’d never forgive herself. Kyle ignored the sight of Shay looking so lost and vulnerable. Focusing on the battle ensured her life. His life didn’t matter anymore, hadn’t mattered for some time, no matter how much he wanted to live to be with her. As he had during his tenure as an agent, Kyle shoved aside emotions. His enemy, Armond, former business associate of Lu-Marc, stood before him. After everything Teri and Sage had gone through, after all he’d caused, he wouldn’t let this one get away. Not this time. Armond’s fist caught him in the jaw. Kyle’s head snapped back. He felt Armond’s heavy signet ring bite into the flesh of his cheek and tasted blood. Damn his inability to be both corporeal and incorporeal at the same time. Kyle hammered back, a quick onetwo punch to Armond’s head. Armond growled, spat blood, and tried to heave the ghost off him.

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Kyle clung like a pit bull. Somewhere he’d lost the gun, and its absence weighed heavily on him. Instead, he leapt to his feet and kicked Armond in the ribs. The criminal bent double, and Kyle attacked him again. He channeled his anger into each kick. Once he finished this, he’d leave, evaporate from this plane. The fact he couldn’t stay here with Shay pissed him off. He loved her. She loved him. So why the fuck would the Fates want to take him away? Kyle growled and grabbed the collar of Armond’s shirt. Kyle dug his knee into Armond’s windpipe, feeling the soft tissue bruise beneath the impact. He looked back, determined to ensure Shay’s safety. She stood there, gun in hand, ready to fire. His blood sang with pride. That’s my girl. He didn’t fear her hitting him. His love would keep him safe. Should he fail, she stood ready to defend herself. He loved the scrappy side of her as much as he loved her vulnerable side. Armond lurched beneath him. Kyle pinned him down, digging his knee into Armond’s trachea. He glanced over his shoulder again. “Run, Shay. Get the hell out of here and don’t look back,” he yelled. “I won’t leave you.” The sheen of tears in her eyes nearly undid him. The gun wavered, but held. “Goddamn it, get out of here. Be free. Be safe.” He felt like he coaxed a wounded bird back into the wild, and it tore at his guts. “I love you. If I can come to you, I will.” “No!” Shay yelled. She stepped forward. “I won’t leave you.” Armond twisted from Kyle’s grip. He scurried backwards. “Shay, the gun!” Kyle saw where Armond was headed, and he wouldn’t be able to stop the criminal in time. A gun lay not fifteen feet away. She looked doubtful for a moment then saw where Armond was headed. She clicked on the safety and tossed him the gun. Kyle focused. He caught the gun, flipped off the safety and trained it on Armond. The criminal grabbed his gun and started to rise. Kyle fired. He emptied the entire clip into Armond’s body, watching the bastard dance like a drunken marionette. His body jerked. Blood poured from wounds in his shirt. He fell, sprawled on the floor like a forgotten rag doll. Triumph filled Kyle. He turned to Shay and gave her a thumbs-up. “We did it,” he said. Horror filled her gaze. A tear ran down her cheek. “Baby, we did it.” Kyle stepped toward her and stopped. His chest burned. He looked down, eyes wide, at the holes in his shirt. Though no blood poured from the wounds, Kyle knew he’d been hit. He turned and saw her standing there in shock. Oh God, he’d seen this before. He’d looked down at his own mortal chest and knew he was dying. He’d failed her. He turned to Shay, hardly able to watch the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” He stepped forward, wanting to hold 124

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her one more time before he left. His legs wobbled. Suddenly, he couldn’t support himself, and the ground came closer, ever closer. He lay on the ground. Damn it, they took him out of the game. He reached for her, then saw nothing.

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Chapter Seventeen Shay rushed to Kyle’s side. Beyond him, Armond lay dead, his eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. She dropped to her knees beside him and reached for his wrist before reaching to press her palms against the empty wounds. Searching for a pulse didn’t work with a ghost. Instead, she pressed her palms against his wounds. If he were mortal, she’d try to staunch the flow of bleeding. The blank stare of Armond focused on her, and Shay tried not to concentrate on him. Too late for him, but not for Kyle. Shay bit her lip as tears flooded her eyes. “Don’t die, Kyle. I love you.” She sniffed and tried not to lose her focus. “Don’t die on me.” She searched the room for a phone. She might be able to call 911. Get an ambulance. Shay shook her head. Kyle was already a ghost. He was already dead. No! She refused to believe she’d lose him so easily. “You saved my life.” She lifted her hands, expecting to see them bathed in blood. Instead, they looked just the same. She brushed a strand of blond hair away from his forehead. “No, Kyle. Don’t leave me.” With her hands on him, he felt cold, shallow, less than he’d been. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his cold, lifeless ones. His gaze stared at nothing. Shay grabbed Kyle’s shirt. She leaned forward and buried her face against the soft cloth. Sobs ravaged her body. Tears streamed down her face, dampening the cloth of his shirt. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sorrow. Though she hadn’t known him for long, she couldn’t imagine him gone, out of her life, never to see him again. “Please, Kyle. Don’t leave me.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, unable to dash away the tears of pain. She stroked his hair and ran her hands over the flat planes of his chest. She bit her lip to stop the tears. They wouldn’t stop. Never. Sitting there, her eyes ran over with the truth that she’d love Kyle until the day she died. “Please,” she pleaded. “Please don’t let him leave me. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to live without him.” She searched the room for the gun, and for a heartstopping moment contemplated dying right along beside him. Shay shook her head. She’d never gone for the easy way out. “Oh Goddess, Kyle, I love you so much.” She howled her grief. If anyone were left in the house, surely they’d hear her, but it wouldn’t matter. Not now. Not with Kyle gone. If the bad guys came down the stairs and finished her off, so it would be. Shay sucked in a harsh breath. She looked at Kyle lying sprawled before her and imagined he looked much the same way when he’d died the first time when Sage shot him. Thoughts of Kyle’s former partner brought along with it the thoughts of his new

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life. “You were right, baby. You’re not going to get a body and live happily ever after. We’re not going to live happily ever after.” She pressed a kiss to his cold, lifeless lips. “Bullshit,” she growled. Shay drew herself to her feet, though she swayed with stress and exhaustion. “I don’t care who you are, whether you’re the Fates or gods or goddesses. You’re going to give Kyle back to me. I love him. Do you hear me, I love him!” She shook her fist at the ceiling, angry at whatever higher powers would allow a man as good and kind as Kyle to fade into history. “You took Marcy away from me. My best friend, and she’s gone! You’re not taking Kyle away from me. I love him.” Her words echoed in the room, then faded away. “I love him.” She hiccupped on a sob and sank to the ground. “I love him.” She whispered. “I love you, Kyle.” Leaning forward, she buried her face against his chest and wept. The empty room told her all she needed to know. This time, the deities refused to intervene. Pain seared him from head to foot. Kyle squeezed his eyes closed. He was dead, and dead men shouldn’t hurt so much. His chest burned, two holes where the bullets must have entered. It never hurt this much when he died the first time. His body tingled. Opening his eyes, he saw white. Light surrounded him as pure as a fresh snowfall, and as bright as a sunny winter’s morning. Tears stung his eyes. A heavy weight rested on his chest. Warm breath and the sound of a woman’s uncontrollable sobbing touched him. Shay. Oh sweetheart, don’t cry. I knew this wasn’t going to end well, but damn it, I never meant to hurt you. I love you. He longed to wrap his arms around her, but a heavy weight filled his body. He tried to move a finger, and he couldn’t. He was dying again. How many times could a man die before he ran out lives and was snuffed out of existence like a used cigarette? Mentally, Kyle shuddered to think he might be on his last one. Just a tiny wisp of smoke emanating from the butt before someone snuffed it out with a heel. His throat worked convulsively. He longed to open his mouth, to speak, to tell Shay how much he loved her, and how very, very sorry he was. Pain drove all thoughts from his mind. He lay there, staring at the white light wondering if he were supposed to go to it. Frankly, he didn’t expect white light, not for him. Men like him deserved demons crawling from the bowels of the earth to take him away. A two-for-one deal this time, with the demons able to grab both Armond and him. Although he couldn’t see the body, Kyle knew he’d killed Armond. One more stain on his soul, one more man he’d killed. If he could have shaken his head he would have. Men like him didn’t deserve second chances. Shay’s sobs brought him back to reality. Warm liquid ran over his chest, and he knew it to be her tears. She hiccupped, her breath caught, and then she started crying again. If she kept it up, she’d make herself sick, and Kyle blamed himself for that too.

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He was sorry he couldn’t be the man Shay needed, sorry he wouldn’t get another chance at life. He longed to close his eyes, to fade away from the harsh glare of the white light surrounding him. Yet it pulled him to it. Called to him with a siren’s song promising peace and oblivion. Mists swirled in the white light. Clouds light and dark, like fluffy cumulous floating in a radiant summer sky. The clouds swirled, forming, until they coalesced into a young woman’s form. Choose. The word thundered through his being. It pounded in time to the throb of twin bullet wounds in his chest. Had he had a heartbeat, it might mirror it with a heavy beat. Kyle focused on the form, though he sensed he wasn’t seeing her with eyes, but rather with his heart. He wanted life. A new life with Shay, and a physical body so he could live beside her. He wanted to make love to her, to cherish her with lips, fingers, and cock, and know that everyone would see the two of them together. He dreamed of creating children, a new generation to carry on as testament to their undying love for each other. He wanted a future. The clouds swirled and dissipated. Kyle stared at the light, felt it darkening around the edges. A gentle twilight surrounded him, darkening to the blackest of nights. Pain shot through him. From scalp to toes, it bowed his back off the ground. Startled, Shay jerked away. Gentle hands reached for him, cupped his shoulders, and stroked his arms. “Oh Goddess, Kyle, don’t leave me.” The tear-choked voice sounded so far away. His diaphragm contracted. A gasp of air sucked down his throat and filled his lungs. He coughed, and felt the knife of agony through his chest and lungs. He sucked in again. Another breath filled his lungs, then sputtered away in a spray of bubbles and blood. Breath. Life. Darkness swept through him, carrying him away on a tide of oblivion. Shay clung to Kyle as his body bowed. Blood ran everywhere, soaking her hands and clothing. Shay bit her lip, afraid to speak, to do anything but cling to her love as he went through the agony of death. Breath rattled in his lungs. “Kyle?” Shay questioned. Hope burst inside her, a dam of love and longing so strong she thought it might sweep her into her emotions and away from reality. She pressed down on his wounds, afraid to see the blood seeping between her fingers. Blood. Since when did ghosts have blood?

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His breath gurgled again. Breath. Blood. Shay shook her head, unable to believe it. Kyle had a body, and now he was going to die. Shay lurched to her feet. She bolted to the corner of the room where a desk and phone sat. She reached for the handset and punched in 911. The operator answered. She gave the information, searching frantically in a desk drawer for something with the address. When she found it, she prayed the front door would be unlocked. The operator assured her help was on the way. Shay hung up and raced back to Kyle’s body. The copious amounts of blood surrounding him worried her. She searched for something to use to staunch the flow, knowing her own two hands were sadly inefficient. A blanket lay over the back of the couch, and she grabbed it, pressing it over Kyle’s body. His shallow, bubbling breaths worried her more than the blood. What if the bullet pierced a lung? What if he died right here before help came? Shay shook her head. She refused to allow it to happen. She talked to him, repeating over and over again, how much she loved him. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” She clung to his body, listening painfully for each one of his breaths. The touch of her blood-slick fingers to his wrist revealed a pulse. A pulse. So long as she heard the breaths and felt a pulse, she knew Kyle lived. Sirens sounded, growing closer. Shay listened to them, hoping they could find her down there. A click, then the pounding of footsteps. “Down here!” Shay yelled. “We’re in the basement.” She heard muffled exclamations and a few swear words, and wondered what the rest of the house looked like. If Kyle came in here after her, it probably looked like a war zone. She looked down at his face, drawn tight with pain. “We’re down here!” Shay yelled again when she heard footfalls on the stairs. “Hurry! He’s dying!” She heard the three men rush downstairs. When they saw her, they began barking orders. One grabbed her by the arm. “Miss, you have to let us get to him.” Her dazed brain barely registered the words, and she felt someone pull her away. “Please, can I hold his hand?” Shay twined her fingers with Kyle’s, never wanting to let him go. “I’m sorry, Miss. We need to work. What happened here? Shit, it looks like a war zone,” the paramedic said. Shay looked at him, realizing the tall, dark-skinned man was gingerly trying to take her away from Kyle’s body so his two colleagues could work. “Sit down over here. You don’t look hurt. Are you hurt?” Shay shook her head. She kept her gaze glued over the man’s shoulder to watch Kyle. “We got to get him upstairs,” one man said as he placed an oxygen mask over Kyle’s face. “Let’s go.” “Is there anyone else?”

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Shay shook her head. “No. Just us.” She didn’t know about Armond’s men and didn’t care. If Kyle died, they deserved to die. She rose to her feet and hurried after the paramedics. Upstairs, they loaded Kyle into the ambulance, and she squeezed in to sit on a bench. “Are you family?” “I’m his fiancée.” In her dreams she wanted to marry Kyle, and right now, the lie didn’t hurt anyone. “What happened?” Shay blinked back tears. If she told the truth, the men would never believe her. She doubted anything so fanciful happened outside of New York or other big cities. “Roger invited us here to meet a friend of his. We don’t know him, never knew him. We’d barely sat down when they started shooting. Kyle, he tried to save me, but he was shot.” She released a ragged breath. “He’s not going to die, is he?” “We’re trying our best, ma’am. He’s got some nasty wounds here, though thankfully none of them hit his heart.” The ambulance sped through traffic, and Shay gripped the bench on which she sat, trying not to get jostled in the back. She watched the men work on Kyle, applying pressure bandages to the wounds, pumping an oxygen mask, and giving him shots. Swallowing hard, she prayed, not to a Goddess, though divine intervention would be welcome right about now. Giving Kyle back his body probably was enough though. Instead, she prayed to Marcy. Maybe her best friend was up there looking down, and maybe, just maybe, Marcy would want Kyle and Shay to have a little happiness. She hoped so, because as the ambulance sped toward the hospital, Shay knew she needed all the happiness she could get. If Kyle died, she doubted she’d ever be happy again.

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Chapter Eighteen “How are you holding up?” Shay rubbed grit from her eyes and looked up at the tall, lean man standing next to her chair. Taking the paper cup of coffee from him, she shifted position on the hard couch that seemed to have lost its cushion some hours ago. “Doing all right, I suppose.” She plucked at the green T-shirt she wore, thoughtfully brought to her by Allen, when she said she didn’t want to leave the hospital. She didn’t quite understand how he arrived, except maybe Teri had called him. Shay inhaled the steam rising from the paper cup. Vending machine coffee or not, it smelled heavenly. “You’ve been through a lot. Have you heard from the doctor yet?” Shay shook her head. Her throat constricted around a lump and she swallowed hard to dispel another round of tears. Allen, Agent Walker, acted so kind, he even insisted she call him “Spook”, the old nickname Sage had given him. She refused to cry in front of him again. Instead, she sipped the coffee, wincing at the too-hot liquid. “Not yet,” she replied. “But they probably want to wait until he’s out of surgery and in the recovery room. They said the surgery could take a while.” She glanced at the clock as she’d done every minute since waking from the catnap she’d taken in the waiting room. “I’m sure he’ll pull through. He’s a tough guy, tougher than we know really.” Allen leaned back in the chair and stared at a fake impressionist painting hanging on the wall. Shay knew better than to pry. Teri mentioned his expertise, but said little else. Five hours later, Agent Walker had shown up in the waiting room looking as if he’d flown directly from the office. He had a carryon, which he kept next to him, and had tossed his suit coat over it as soon as he arrived. A doctor, looking weary, pushed through the doors. “Miss Cartland?” Shay bolted to her feet. Coffee sloshed over the edges of the cups, stinging her fingers. She hissed, and set the cup down on the table, then wiped her hands on her jeans. “Yes? Is Kyle all right? Did he make it?” She hurried forward. “Mr. Denison is in recovery right now. We will be taking him to the ICU for monitoring.” The doctor’s words failed to reassure her. “So he’ll be okay?” Shay bit her lip, afraid the doctor would shake his head. “Most likely. He’s alive, but he’s not out of the woods yet. It’ll be several days before we can give him the all clear. He is a very lucky man. A few inches in either direction and he would have died instantly. Once we have him settled we’ll let you know. Do you have any questions?” Shay blinked back the sheen of tears. Kyle lived. “No, thank you, Doctor. Thank you.”

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Allen walked up beside her and wrapped his arm around her for support. Leaning into his strength, Shay sent a silent prayer to whomever for making sure Kyle lived. She exhaled the breath she held. “He’s alive,” she said through her tears. “He’s alive.” “Yes, he is.” Allen looked far away, as if his mind wasn’t on the man with whom he used to work. “I’m very happy to hear that. Do you want me to take you home now?” Shay shook her head. “No, I want to see him first. Then I’ll go home.” Allen led her back to the couch. “I’ll call Sage and let him know. I know he was worried.” Shay smiled, thinking of the bonds of friendship that must tie these men even after everything Kyle had done. “Thank you.” She curled up on the couch and counted the seconds until she could see him again. Nearly two hours later, Shay sat on a hard chair next to Kyle. He lay still, so still she watched the rise and the fall of his chest to assure herself he lived. Monitors beeped steadily, and Shay watched the tiny spikes on the heart monitor, each one steady and even. She marveled at the green lines, her fingers twined with those of the man she loved. She eyed the ventilator tube, though the nurse assured her it would be removed. Lying against the white sheets, Kyle looked pale. His hair stood out in all directions, and she smoothed it down. A blanket lay gently on him, his hands curled lightly against the fabric. Idly, she rubbed her thumb against his palm and cradled his hand in hers. She brought it to her lips, hoping that tiny movement didn’t hurt him, and pressed a kiss. Movement in the doorway made her turn. Allen stood there, leaning against the doorjamb. He looked from her to Kyle then back again. “You can come in if you want. He’ll be out for several hours still. I just want to sit here a little longer before I go home.” Shay gestured to the empty chair beside her. “That’s all right. I’ll just leave you two alone. I’ll be right outside when you’re ready to leave.” Without waiting for an answer, Allen turned and walked back to the waiting room. Shay watched him go. All night he’d been courteous, helpful, even supportive, but not comfortable. She sensed a great weight on his shoulders, the shadows under his chill blue eyes telling her he worked too hard. His short, cropped brown hair looked nearly military in cut, and he seemed to be able to go on forever. Something drove him, something horrible, and Shay wished he could lean on her as she had on him. A sympathetic ear was the least she could offer after his flying out to be there so quickly. Of course, he’d brought Kyle’s identity, and he listened to the entire tale, not the madeup one she told the officer who met them at the hospital. Shay rose to her feet. Bending over the railing, she pressed a kiss against Kyle’s lips. Warmth filled her, and for a moment, she gently laid her hand against his chest, loving the steady rise and fall. “I’ll be back. I’m only going home to shower and change. I 132

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won’t sleep without you there to hold me.” She kissed his forehead, smoothed back his hair, then turned and exited the hospital room. True to his word, Allen waited in the small room beyond. He rose to his feet as she entered. “Ready to go home?” he asked. Shay nodded. “Just for a little bit, then I’ll come back.” She didn’t relish sleeping in the hard chair next to his room, but for him, she’d endure. After all, it was nothing compared to what he’d just gone through. Smiling for the first time in several hours, she followed Allen out to his rented car.

***** Kyle woke. His eyelids fluttered, and he winced at the myriad aches and pains in his body. Machines hummed around him. Warm fingers tightened around his. If it hadn’t hurt so much, he might have smiled. Shay. Though he’d drifted in and out of consciousness, always he saw her. The first thing when he opened his eyes. Sometimes she slept in a chair beside his bed, other times she looked down at him with a mixture of love and worry on her face. Slowly, his world came into focus. Shay sat on a chair beside him, her head tilted as if in sleep. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, felt it mirrored by his own. Awe filled him. He had a body. He was really alive. He’d longed for this moment, never thought he’d get it, and now, Shay slept beside his body. He glanced up at the monitors, felt the tape pads on his chest. His heartbeat showed on the monitor above the bed. Kyle wished he could see it and had to settle for the rhythmic beeping. Another figure sat in the far corner of the room. He looked out the window, his eyes distant. Kyle tried to focus, not quite recognizing the short, brown haircut or the leanness of the man’s features. Snippets of conversation floated through his mind. He remembered. Allen, “Spook”, had come to give him an identity so he could have a second chance at life. He owed him big-time. Lying still enough so as not to disturb Shay, Kyle sorted through his memories. He remembered barreling for Armond’s house, then shooting, killing so much he wished he could wash away the remembrance of the heavy gun in his hands. If he never saw another gun again, it would be too soon. Touching one seemed so abhorrent to him right now. He remembered being shot and returning fire. Then nothing, except for a brilliant white light surrounding him, beckoning him onward. He fought the light, wanting to stay with the waves of love coming from Shay. Slowly, he turned his head to watch her sleep. Parted, her full lips begged for a kiss, and if he weren’t tied down with monitors and feeling as if he’d been hit by a Mack truck, he’d do that in a heartbeat. He grinned. Apparently he had a lifetime to kiss her, to love her. “Hey,” he croaked, his throat dry from disuse. He focused on his hands, and slowly worked his thumb across her soft flesh. “Shay. Love.”

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Her eyes opened, and she gasped with surprise. “You’re awake!” She brought his hand to her mouth, pressed a kiss against it, and then slipped her fingers from his. “Let me get you some water.” She went to a bedside table and poured water from a plastic pitcher into a plastic cup. She placed a straw in it then brought it back to the bed. Allen stood. “Do you need any help?” Shay glanced at him, then to his friend, or at least Kyle thought Allen was still his friend considering he brought a new identity even though he suspected it went against departmental rules. “I might. Let’s see.” “I want to sit up,” Kyle said. “Are you sure?” He nodded. “Yeah. I’m tired of laying flat.” Like a corpse. Shay heard the unspoken words. She pressed a button and the bed hummed. Slowly, the head of the bed rose. Kyle winced. Shay stopped. “Is that too far? Did I hurt you?” “I’m fine, I think.” He fought to speak past the pain. “Far enough.” Heavy bandages covered his chest. He fought against feeling like an invalid, but in his years with the agency, he’d never ended up on the injured list. Not until after his death. Mentally, he chuckled at the irony. Shay held the cup before him. Kyle reached for the straw, feeling very much like a baby bird. He gaped, finally closing his lips around it and drank. Tepid water had never tasted so good. At last he stopped with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said. “That tasted good.” Kyle leaned back against the pillows. Shay turned away, but not quick enough for Kyle to miss the sheen of tears in her eyes. She sniffed. “What’s wrong?” Shay turned back, a grin on her face. “Nothing. I’m just so happy. I worried you might not make it. But it seems you’re awake for a while at least.” She sat back down, picked up his hand and brought it to her chest. “I love you so much, and when I thought you wouldn’t make it…” Shay squeezed her eyes closed. Kyle felt the rounded curve of her breast just beyond the edge of his fingers. With a smile, he caressed her with his fingertips. “Oh, honey, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you. I love you. And it seems that I’ve been granted a body.” He turned to Allen. “Thank you. I’m sure you have something to do with the plastic bracelet that doesn’t say ‘John Doe’. I can only imagine what it must have cost you. I was a selfish bastard, and I did horrible things. Thank you for bringing information so I can have a new life.” Allen strode to the edge of the bed. He glanced from Shay to Kyle, then back again. “It was the least I could do. Sage called me and we talked. I’m sure if the agency knew I was helping a traitor to live again they wouldn’t be happy. But Sage told me you helped 134

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him with Lu-Marc there towards the end. And you were trying to save Shay’s life. You can’t be all bad.” He grinned and turned toward the door. “I think I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for a while. Maybe go find a bite to eat for lunch. Something other than hospital cafeteria food, hopefully.” Allen’s words humbled Kyle. He looked up at Shay. Love shone from her eyes, and he knew if he lived to be a hundred years old, he’d never forget how she looked at him right now. “Now, where were we?” Kyle reached for her. His fingers caressed the side of her face. Shay closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Oh yes, he could live like this forever. Shay reveled in Kyle’s caress. Love filled her, warmed her, and made her long to crawl into the hospital bed beside him and never let him go. A tear of happiness slipped from her eyes to slide over her cheek. “Hey, no more crying,” Kyle said. “I don’t ever want to see you cry again.” “I’m sorry.” Shay pressed her lips close together and tried to bring her emotions under control. “I was so scared I’d lose you.” Leaning over, she brushed her lips across his. “I love you, Kyle Denison.” Kyle cupped her cheek and brought her closer to him. “I love you, ShayLynn Cartland.” He claimed her lips, kissing her as if he’d never kissed her before. Hungrily, his lips moved across hers. He drank her, breathed her in as if she were the elixir of life itself. Shay moaned at the first touch of his tongue against her lips. Her nipples pebbled, and distantly, she registered a spike in the heart monitor. Her pussy clenched. She regretted not being able to make slow, sweet love to him. She’d have time. They’d have time. In fact, right now they had all the time in the world. The thought awed her. Tunneling her fingers through his hair, she pressed her lips closer to his. A low moan rumbled through his chest, and his large hand closed around her breast. Behind her, a throat cleared. Shay pulled back, her lips puffy and swollen from Kyle’s kiss. The heart monitor beeped a staccato tune, testifying to Kyle’s arousal, even if she hadn’t seen the bulge in the blankets. Whirling around, Shay saw a nurse. A flush crept over her cheeks, and she sat back down. “I see our patient is awake.” She grinned and walked forward with a glance at the heart monitor. “And appears to be on the mend.” “I’m sorry,” Shay said, suddenly worried she’d done something to jeopardize Kyle’s recovery. “I just—” The nurse waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. This is the first time he’s been awake, and with the way you’ve sat by his bedside, I’d say he owes you a few kisses.” The nurse checked his vitals and made notations on her clipboard. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Denison, but you’re making good progress. I’m going to check your wounds.” The nurse flipped back the blankets, and gingerly removed a bit of tape. 135

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Kyle set his jaw against the pain. “Are you all right? Does it hurt?” Shay asked. She clenched her fingers around his. Though she’d seen the angry red bullet holes before, with Kyle awake they took on more significance. The nurse replaced the bandages. “We’ll be in later this afternoon to change your bandages.” She focused her attention on Shay. “If it’s all right with you, we’ll probably show you how to pack the wounds so when he goes home you can take care of it.” Shay nodded. Her heart hammered at the thought of going home, of taking Kyle to her home. She hadn’t asked Allen if he’d arranged other housing, just assumed Kyle would want to go home with her. “Of course. Thank you. I want to do everything I can.” The nurse finished her notations. “Do you need anything for the pain, Mr. Denison?” Kyle shook his head. “This is the first time I’ve been lucid in several days. I’d like to stay that way for a while.” “Very well. Just press the call light if you need anything. Now that you’re awake we’ll probably give you a morphine drip you can regulate yourself.” The nurse exited the room, leaving them alone. Shay scooted closer to the bed. “Now that I have you, I don’t think I’ll ever let you go.” Gently, she stroked her thumb along the palm of his hand. For a moment, Shay wondered if she weren’t being too lovey-dovey. Although Kyle said he loved her, he said nothing of their future together. She wondered if she might be the only one imagining them returning to her small home and building a family together. She sucked in a deep breath. She refused to push him into something he didn’t want, yet the need to know twisted her stomach into knots. He’d been awake less than an hour, surely he hadn’t had time to think about things. Pressing her lips together, Shay refused to give in to the temptation to ask. “I can’t thank you enough for staying here by my side,” Kyle said. He reached for the controls and lowered the bed. “I never imagined anyone would want to spend their days in a hospital waiting for me. I never imagined anyone like you.” Shay turned to him and tried not to let the hope bubble inside her. “You’re welcome. It was the least I could do. Besides if I went home, I’d only worry. At least here I knew the second anything changed.” “You, Allen, both of you have done so much. All my life, I never imagined anyone standing beside me as you’ve done, Shay.” He paused. “I love you, Shay. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives, and beyond. When I get out of the hospital, or at least when I can stand again, will you marry me?” Shay gasped. “I’d marry you now. Yes! Oh Kyle, I love you so much. All my life I’ve felt like a freak because of my abilities, that no one would understand. But you do.” She leaned over and kissed him hard and long. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

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Ghost Redeemed

“I don’t have anything to offer. I don’t have a career, though I have a few ideas. No home. No job.” Kyle grinned. “Is that okay? I’d never want to be a burden—” Shay silenced him with a kiss. When she pulled back for air, she grinned. “You’d never be a burden to me, and yes, that’s all right. We can start a new life. Together.” “Starting right now.” Kyle reached for her. Shay chuckled and pushed his hands away. “Oh no, you focus all your energy on getting better. I can wait, because when I make love to you, I want you to be completely healthy. You’re going to need all your strength.” She pressed a kiss against the back of his hand and grinned from ear to ear. “Okay,” Kyle relented. The heart monitor beeped. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t think about it.” He chuckled and looked up at the woman he loved. He’d found his redemption, and it shone in the love filling Shay’s gaze. Over her shoulder, he watched Allen step into the room. “I hate to interrupt, but I have some information I think might be of interest to both of you,” he said. Shay sat straighter in the chair. “What is it?” she asked. The exuberant joy of a few moments ago fled, leaving worry in its place. “Is everything all right?” “I received a call from the agent assigned to this case. Don’t worry. I didn’t tell them about you, Kyle, but I did explain the situation. You were right, both of you.” Allen frowned. “I don’t know how to say this without coming right out. Once you took down Armond, most of his men copped plea bargains. Marcy didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered, by Armond. Turns out he was the one pulling the strings. Roger was just a hapless puppet. I’m sorry, both of you.” He sat down in the corner and sighed. “More sorry than you know. You looked so happy when I came back in. I hate to have ruined it.” Shay stared at Allen, then turned to look at Kyle. Kyle longed to wipe the hurt and anger off her face, wished he could kiss it away. He couldn’t, and deep inside, he knew how she felt. That he’d killed the bastard who’d done this came as little consolation. He’d done what he came back to do. He had completed his mission. He waited, half expecting his body to fade away, the gift to be revoked. When he remained corporeal, he squeezed Shay’s hand. “You all right?” She nodded and squared her shoulders. Damn, he admired her strength. “Yeah, I think I am. Turns out I was right after all. I can’t say it makes me happy, though I know we gave her justice.” “We did.” Kyle sensed Shay needed reassurance. He wanted to give it to her. “I loved Marcy,” he said, “but I love you more. You know all about me, the things I did, the good and the bad. You accept me for everything I’ve done. You’re a beautiful, warm, caring woman, and I can’t imagine my life without you.” “Oh, Kyle. I’m not worried about your feelings for Marcy. She was my best friend, but she’s gone now. I’m sorry all of it happened, but I’m glad to have known, and I’m 137

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glad to have you.” Shay pressed his hand to her cheek and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she smiled. “Thank you, Allen, for letting us know.” “It’s the least I could do.” Kyle shifted on the bed. Sleep threatened to claim him, but he refused to give in, not until he tasted Shay’s lips one more time. A gentle tug pulled her down to him. He brushed his lips across hers, savoring the silky, soft texture. She tasted warm, like life, and hope. As he settled back into the hospital bed, he knew his dreams would be filled with images of their future together, and when he woke, he’d make every one come true.

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About the Author Mary Winter began writing when she was 16, using it as an excuse to skip gym class. She currently lives in Iowa with her pets and dreams of writing full-time. Ghost Touch was her first published novel, and her advice to anyone is: “Persistence pays off. Don't ever give up on your dreams!” Mary welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Ave., Akron OH 44310.

Also by Mary Winter Ghost Touch Once Upon a Prince anthology Pleasure Quest Prodigal Son Snowbound

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