Inevitable Page 7

  “I don’t even want to know where you picked it up.”

  “I locked myself out of my house once upon a time.”

  “Sure.”

  He grinned. “I know you think I’m a master criminal, but I haven’t hotwired a car since I was a teenager. This is as bad as it gets.”

  She was about to say something when she heard a click. Ryan turned the knob and the door swung inward.

  He waved a hand at the dark interior of the hotel. “After you, madam.”

  She ventured past him slowly, ignoring the momentary swell of lust she felt when she got too close to him. After all, she’d almost lost what few inhibitions she still had left just outside the restaurant only minutes ago. She couldn’t deal with that again now.

  She’d swept her gaze around the hotel lobby. It was dark, but she could see outlines of furniture under plastic wrap. There was a check-in desk with mail slots behind it. A staircase rose up at the far end of the lobby leading to the second floor. It smelled musty, but not as much as she might have thought.

  No security system. She’d half expected a siren to blare, but there was only silence.

  No, not complete silence. She could hear something very faintly.

  “Do you hear that?” she whispered.

  “Do I—?” Ryan cocked his head. “Yeah, music. Upstairs. It sounds like something from the thirties or forties.”

  “Harold’s listening to some old tunes.” She looked at the staircase in front of them. “Let’s go.”

  Ryan frowned. “You’re sure you want to confront him? Why not just give a report to PARA tomorrow? You said you didn’t have any exorcism stuff on you.”

  Even as a child Emma would seek spirits out, as if drawn to haunted locations like a magnet. Sometimes they were tricky to talk to, but it was always because they had some struggle, some issue they still were dealing with. It was a vicious cycle for them until somebody—like Emma—was able to knock them out of their repeating pattern.

  It had worked before. It would work again. She was sure of it.

  Ryan was concerned for her safety, which was why he had caught her arm just as she’d placed her stiletto-clad foot on the first step. She appreciated that concern more than he knew, but it didn’t change anything. The Desidero potion’s effects continued to swirl around her, making it very hard to keep her head clear enough to do her job.

  “It’s their anniversary tonight,” she explained. “Lorraine said he’ll be in hiding any other time. This is it if we want to help them.”

  Ryan studied her face, his mouth curving. “There’s that stubborn streak I remember.”

  “I’m not stubborn.”

  “Hey, it was a compliment, not an insult. Maybe you should have brought Leo along. How many times have you been out with that guy, anyway? Is he your boyfriend?”

  She glanced down at where Ryan had his hand curled over her forearm. The contact was so pleasant it made her struggle against the need to get closer to him. “You seem very interested in him. I’ll have to ask if he’s interested in seeing you again. Maybe you can be a couple.”

  “So funny I forgot to laugh. You’re avoiding the question. Are you into that guy or what?”

  “It was our first date,” Emma admitted, not sure why she was even answering him.

  “Has there been anyone else since I left?”

  “Why do you care?” She twisted a finger through her hair.

  His smile widened. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m insanely jealous.”

  She placed her hand on top of his and removed it from her arm so she could focus on the task facing her. “It wasn’t as if we were involved when you were here, Ryan. You were dating Charlotte. You were my business partner, that’s all.”

  “Seems like a million years ago.” He scanned the empty lobby, before his gaze moved up the stairway they had yet to climb. “How is Charlotte, anyway?”

  Strange that he hadn’t asked about her until now. “Never better.”

  “She moved on, I assume.”

  “From you?”

  “Yeah. She didn’t seem the type to pine away.”

  Emma nodded. “She’s seeing someone else.”

  “Do I know him?”

  “Actually, yes. It’s Stephen.”

  His eyes widened. “Stephen Robbins?”

  “The one and only.”

  He laughed under his breath. “That son of a bitch moved in on Charlotte the moment I was out of the picture, didn’t he?”

  Stephen and Ryan had been friends while Ryan worked for the agency. Stephen had been shocked as hell to find out that Ryan was a thief, possibly even more than Emma herself had been. She and Stephen hadn’t been close so they couldn’t commiserate, but he and Charlotte had started seeing each other soon afterward. And they seemed to be very serious about each other now.

  “I guess you two haven’t stayed in touch,” she said.

  “No, strangely enough, nobody wanted anything to do with me after I left. I’m like a leper. Charlotte didn’t even say goodbye. At least you said a few parting words to me.”

  “I believe I told you to go to hell.”

  He smiled. “At least it was an acknowledgment that I was leaving.”

  Emma searched his face. “Do you feel bad about what happened?”

  His expression shadowed and his smile faded. “You have no idea how bad I feel about it.”

  There was pain in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. It was something, though. Something she could hold on to. She felt like a bit of a masochist for wanting him to feel bad, but it was better than if he’d been completely blasé about it. Ryan definitely wasn’t blasé.

  “You know,” she said, thinking things through. “If you were to recover the stolen merchandise and return it, it’s possible things might be different.”

  He snorted, but it was a humorless sound. “You think?”

  “I do.”

  “If I knew where everything was, then that might be possible. But I don’t.”

  “You could go back to the people you sold the items to and—”

  He cut her off. “You just don’t get it, do you, Em?”

  “Get what?”

  He stared at her for a long, drawn-out moment. She could sense the tension building between them wasn’t merely sexual anymore. “I didn’t steal anything.”

  She frowned. “But—”

  “No, Em, it wasn’t me. I was set up to take the fall.” He looked frustrated.

  Her jaw tightened and disappointment flooded through her. “I see.”

  His brows drew together. “A part of you has to see that I’m innocent. I’d never do something like that.”

  “Let’s just forget I said anything.”

  She tried to ignore the lump that quickly formed in her throat. Even now he was denying it. But she remembered it so clearly, it was as if it had been only yesterday, watching him around the corner of the building as he left the office with a duffle bag in hand. He’d looked suspicious and checked his surroundings, then unloaded the bag into the trunk of a car. He got on his cell phone and spoke to somebody on the other end.

  “I have the items,” he said. “Nobody even saw me. Meet me at the rendezvous point in ten minutes for the handoff.”

  That didn’t sound like an innocent phone call to Emma.

  She’d wondered why Ryan hadn’t sensed any suspicion from her the next day. He was an empath, after all, although it took a lot of concentration for him to get a good read on anyone. Looked like he hadn’t wanted to expend any extra energy on Emma.

  The vault might have been easy to break into, but it had been equipped with a security camera. It had captured a glimpse of the perpetrator. It had been enough to turn attention toward Ryan.

  Patrick knew about Ryan’s history as a car thief—a story told one night over drinks at the pub down the street. That hadn’t helped his case, especially not when a witness confirmed that it had definitely been Ryan on the security tape.

  In confidence,
Emma had told Patrick what she’d seen. In return, he’d kept her name out of matters. Patrick, as agency manager, had had no choice but to fire Ryan. He’d done it privately, but word spread like wildfire.

  Ryan had no idea that it was Emma who’d been the nail in his coffin. But her disappointment with him had been so vast, her trust in a partner that she’d had extremely warm feelings for so shattered, that she couldn’t help herself. It had felt like her father’s betrayal all over again. Perhaps he’d only taken the job at PARA so he could steal from the vault on a regular basis.

  Then, instead of just admitting it and doing what he could to fix the situation, Ryan continued to claim his innocence.

  And despite this, she still wanted him. Forget the lust potion that made it impossible for her to deny her attraction to him, she still desired him even without it—desired a man who’d lied to her and betrayed her. Even now she wanted to forget about the past and give him a chance to make it up to her.

  But she’d be setting herself up for more disappointment. She knew it. It had been proven one too many times before.

  Her feelings were definitely complicated, especially now. She hated what he’d done, but she wanted him anyway.

  And she knew that was not the least bit healthy.

  “Come on,” she said, starting up the stairs. “Let’s get this over with.”

  He stood at the base of the stairway with his hands on his hips. “So, what? You’re just going to confront Harold?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” After this was over, she wanted to go home. Alone. Then she’d try her very best to put Ryan out of her head and wait for the lust potion’s affects to fade away. She’d researched the potion earlier that day at the office. The effects would wane if given enough time. A week, maybe. Giving in to their desires would allegedly help speed the process along, but…that wasn’t a good idea. It would cause too many complications.

  Writing about him in her erotic novel had been cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. She knew that now. It just kept him vividly in her mind as an object of desire. A scene she’d written when her characters had made love in a bedroom filled with candles and red roses flickered in her mind. It was the scene when her heroine realized that the hero wasn’t only interested in sex. He’d fallen in love with her.

  It was only a fantasy. And that was how it would stay, no matter how much her body ached to feel Ryan’s against hers. This lust potion was only a temporary problem. Ryan’s presence in her life again was only a temporary problem. She just had to be strong for a little while longer.

  So instead, she thought about the job in front of her. She’d dealt with a lot of ghosts in her life. And nine times out of ten, they were reasonable sorts, if a bit confused about what had happened to them.

  Emma and Ryan finally reached the fourth floor which had a banister along one side of the hallway, showing a open view down to the lobby. All the lights on this floor were flickering, even the ones set into the ceiling.

  “I’d be surprised if they’d even paid the electricity bill recently,” Ryan said. “After all, nobody’s running this place anymore.”

  “This is all because of Harold,” Emma agreed. “It shows that he’s aggravated and highly emotional. It’s enough to affect the power levels around him and in this particular case, it’s electricity.”

  “Great.”

  Normally she’d hang back a little and get her bearings, trying to sense the ghost and predict what he might do. But she was on edge and she wanted this over with. With Ryan a bit too close for comfort, she began to open doors into the rooms that looked as if they’d been frozen in time. Each one was identical with a double bed, a wooden desk, a chair, and a window with green curtains.

  “Where is he?” Ryan asked. “Do you sense him at all?”

  She did. He was here. He was watching them.

  “Harold Duchamp,” she called out. “My name is Emma Black and this is Ryan Shephard. Please show yourself to us.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then a loud, deep voice boomed, “You’re not welcome here.”

  “We’re here to help you. You don’t have to hide from us, we mean you no harm.”

  “Leave me to suffer in peace!”

  A door at the far end of the hallway flew open and something launched out of it. A glass vase. Ryan grabbed Emma and pulled her out of the way before it smashed against the wall behind her.

  She inhaled sharply. “Well, so much for Casper the Friendly Ghost.”

  “Watch out!” Ryan yanked Emma against him as a wooden chair rocketed past them.

  “He’s not all that open to meeting new people,” Emma said

  “You think?”

  “This ghost has serious anger issues.”

  Ryan looked angry, too. “Not such a romantic tale of love and loss anymore, is it? Lorraine should be glad to see the end of him.”

  Maybe this was a mistake. She wanted to solve the case so she’d be looked at in a better light at PARA, but the ghost of Harold Duchamp was making it clear he meant to physically harm them. With the lust she felt for Ryan clouding her thoughts, she definitely wasn’t on her game tonight.

  Unfortunately, an exorcism was impossible. She had a bag in the trunk of her car at her house that held everything she needed for that—candles, salt, a exorcist handbook that contained all of the incantations she could recite. She’d never managed to memorize them since exorcisms were fairly rare. She hadn’t done one in over a year. Most ghosts were not evil, after all. They were usually more than open to moving on once the situation had been properly explained to them. Those like Lorraine were still trapped in this world because they were tied to someone or something. In this case, it seemed to be her husband.

  Ryan and Emma went down the stairs as quickly as they could. They looked up and could see the doors slamming on the fourth floor. Emma could now feel Harold’s growing rage like it was a palpable thing.

  The front door was still open but as they made their way across the lobby, it slammed shut in front of them.

  Ryan grabbed hold of the handle and shot a look at her over his shoulder. “I can’t open it.”

  Now the lights in the lobby, including those of a large chandelier high above them began to flicker violently. The sofa and two armchairs, all under a layer of protective plastic, began to shake, as if there was an earthquake rolling under their feet. The dark fireplace suddenly began to blaze right before their eyes.

  Emma looked at Ryan and she could see the worry etched into his handsome features.

  They’d angered a ghost. And the ghost was ready to take his revenge.

  8

  RYAN TRIED TO REMEMBER whose idea it had been to come here and confront this pissed-off spirit. He had a funny feeling it might have been his.

  Bad idea.

  He reached for Emma, closing his hand around her wrist. She looked at him and he could see a mix of emotions in her eyes. The lust potion made it difficult to think about anything other than having her, especially when he was actually touching her skin to skin, but he willed himself to remain in control of his body and mind.

  “It’s okay,” she assured him, without much conviction.

  “This isn’t okay. Just stay behind me.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “You’re going to protect me from the big bad ghost?”

  “That was my plan. Your mocking of my plan doesn’t help matters much.”

  “I’m the clairvoyant here.” Her black high heels dug into the red carpet.

  “You are.”

  “Did you hear him upstairs?”

  “He spoke?”

  “Yeah, he did. He said he wanted to be alone so he could suffer in peace. So he’s here and he knows who we are. I just need to get him to talk to us.”

  “Before or after he kills us?”

  “Hopefully before. We’re lucky he didn’t push us off that landing up there.” She looked determined, and the fear he’d seen on her face a minute ago seemed to have
disappeared. Her jaw set. “It’s okay, Ryan. I think this guy may be more bark than bite.”

  “We’ll have to disagree on that.”

  “You’re going to have to let go of me.”

  He shook his head, but released her wrist and took her by her upper arms, pulling her closer to him. “Not a chance.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Touching me is distracting.”

  “Tell me about it.” His gaze swept over her and he noticed the impression the hard peaks of her nipples made against the thin silk of her blouse. Despite their current situation, this evidence of her arousal made his mouth water and his cock grow hard. “Damn it.”

  “What?” She sounded breathless.

  “You’re so damn beautiful, Em. You know that?”

  “Ryan—” She shook her head. “This isn’t a good time.”

  “I can’t help it.” He swore under his breath. “I want you so much it hurts.”

  She glared at him, but her gaze wasn’t filled with the usual malice. Instead, he saw confusion mixed with heated desire. She couldn’t figure him out. She still believed that he was a thief. He knew there wasn’t a shadow of doubt in her mind about that. What did he have to do to prove his innocence?

  Openly staring at her breasts probably wasn’t a good start.

  Still, he didn’t want to let go of her. He’d pledged to stay by her side, to protect her from danger. That wasn’t exactly the behavior of a thief and liar.

  The fact that she was confused right now was the first glimmer of hope he’d felt in a very long time. And the heated look she’d given him a moment ago was bringing his blood to a steady boil. He knew it was dangerous to touch her, but he’d be damned if he was going to let her wander off in a haunted house that was home to a belligerent ghost.

  Still, he was disappointed that she wasn’t willing to take him at his word. He wondered exactly what he’d done to convince her that he couldn’t be trusted.

  He wanted to pull her to him, to kiss her until she believed him, to slide his mouth and tongue over every inch of her sexy body until she screamed his name and begged him to make love to her.