Ghost Walk (15 page)

Grace
swallowed, totally distracted from the horrors of the case.  “That’s a really
bad idea.”  His beautiful hands couldn’t touch her, but with Jamie it didn’t
seem to matter.  She could still feel her body warming and her breasts
tightening at his proximity.

“Oh,
I think it’s the best idea I ever had.”  He murmured.  “And I’m a man with
nothing but brilliant thoughts in my handsome head.”

“Jamie…”

“Grace…” 
He repeated in the exact same tone.  “What’s the harm in letting me lay beside
you?”

“Because
I can already guarantee you’re not going to just ‘lay’ there.”

The
man was the picture of wounded innocence.  “What else
can
I do?”

“I’m
sure you’ll think of something.”

“You’re
being paranoid.”  He scolded, but his eyes gleamed with all kinds of piratical
ideas.  “Why, it’s not as if I’m even
really
here.  Being a ghost, I’m
not a part of this world anymore.  No one can see me, but you.  I can’t talk
to…”

“Of
course you’re a part of this world!”  She interrupted.  “You’re a part of this
world, whether other people see you or not.  You’re
real
.  As real as me
and everyone else.  You have feelings and thoughts and ideas. 
That’s
what makes you alive.  Don’t ever tell yourself otherwise.”

Jamie
stared at her for a long moment.  “If I was not already long gone, you would
surely be the death of me, Grace Rivera.”

She
smiled at that.

He
paused for a beat, like he was trying to
not
say something and unable to
hold it back.  “It was bloody foolish of you to climb that trellis, though.”

She
frowned at the non sequitur.  “At the Wentworth’s?”

“What
other trellis would I be speaking of?”  He’d clearly been brooding about it. 
“I’m trying to be calm and reasonable and let you breathe, but I remember
all
of it, Grace.  There was someone in her room and you went up the damn trellis,
anyway.  It nearly kills me all over again to recall it.  What the hell were
you thinking?”

“I
thought maybe I could save her.  Or at the very least, I could see who the
killer was.” Grace shook her head, remembering her uncharacteristic flash of
optimism.  It had been… nice.  It left her wanting more.  “I just got there too
late.  The evidence I collected isn’t enough, though.  If I could have gotten
some more…”

“You
should not have been there, a’tall!”  Jamie interrupted at a very unOprah-ish
roar.  “And now the killer is pissed off at you, yet you want to continue this
investigation.”

“Well,
how else do you suggest I clear your name?”

“I
would not have you endanger yourself for any reason.”  He shook his head.  “Not
for
any
reason, Grace.  What would have happened if you’d gone into her
room and the killer had attacked you?  Did you even think of that?”

She
frowned.  “Not really.”

“Not
really?”  He echoed incredulously.  “You’re supposed to be a timid lass!  Just
leaving that bloody boring tour nearly had you in a faint.  Why am I having to
tell you to stop chasing after murderers alone?”

“I
wasn’t alone.”  She turned so she was facing him on the pillow.  “
You
were
there, Jamie.”  And maybe that’s why she’d climbed up that trellis without
hesitation.  Because she knew Jamie was going to somehow keep her safe.  “You
had my back.”

He
stared at her for a long beat, patriot blue eyes flicking down to her lips. 
“Do you know what
else
I remember from that night?”  He asked in a
predatory tone.

“Ummm…” 
Grace’s heartbeat sped up.  See?  Incorporeal or not, he was
definitely
not going to just lay there.  “Whatever it is you remember, I’m sure it’s
wrong
. 
Given the amount of ale you were drinking, I’d say all your memories are
fuzzy.”

“Not
this one.”  He leaned in closer.  “I’ve got a
real
clear recollection of
you kissing me… and that’s not a thing I’m likely to forget.”

Grace
felt herself turning red.  She’d always blushed easily and Jamie seemed to
delight in triggering it.  “I was under a lot of stress at the time.  I can’t
be held responsible for that.”

“Well
surely you donea think it was
my
doing?”  He splayed a palm on his
chest.  “Why I was standing there, innocent as a lamb, when you arrived to lead
me astray.  I was lured in by your feminine wiles.”

“That
is
so
not true!”

“Really? 
Who kissed who again, lass?”  His smile glinted, loving this.

Crap,
he had a point.  “Like anyone has to work real hard to lead a pirate astray.” 
She muttered.  “I supposed all those British merchants ‘lured’ you into
stealing their gold, too.”

“Certainly
felt that way.”  He sighed.  “I miss my gold.”

Grace
rolled her eyes at his sad tone.  “Just don’t tell me you buried it somewhere.”

Jamie
remained quiet.

“Oh
for God’s sake…”  Her lips parted in astonishment.  “You seriously
buried
your treasure
, Jamie?”

“Well,
I was drunk at the time!”  He defended.  “It seemed the thing to do.  But the
map’s become slightly misplaced over the years, so I’m the first to admit it
was an ill-advised plan.”

“You
buried a chest of gold and then
lost the map?!”

“Well,
I was dead when it went missing, so I’m hardly to blame.  Ned Hunnicutt had it,
last I heard.  The gigantic jackass was even worse at
following
maps than
he was a
drawing
them, though, so he couldn’t find my gold.”  His mouth
twitched.  “T’was quite amusing to watch him try.”

“You
seriously
dislike that guy, don’t you?”

“He
was a ponce.  Treated all the serving girls poorly and water down his ale. 
Having him get his grubby, probably-a-Tory, hands on my treasure would have
been a blasphemy.”  He frowned.  “Having
anyone
else find it would vex
me, as a matter of fact.  It’s
mine
.”

The
man was nothing if not possessive.  “Can’t you just
remember
where you
buried it?”  Grace could go dig it up for him, if it would make Jamie happy.

He
hesitated uncomfortably.  “Well… As I mentioned, I was a wee bit drunk at the
time.”  He made a face.  “I’m nearly positive it’s by a tree.”

Grace
couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled up.  “You’re the worse pirate I’ve
ever…”

A
loud pounding on her bedroom door cut off her teasing comment like the shot
heard ‘round the world.

“Grace!” 
Robert bellowed from hallway.  “Open up and talk to me!”

June
24, 1789-  Anabel Maxwell’s buffoon of a brother Gregory asked to call on me
AGAIN!

Obviously
I laughed in his face AGAIN!  Hero of Yorktown or not, some men just cannot
take a hint.

From
the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

Grace
sat up in bed, anger flashing across her lovely face.  “How did he get in
here?”  She looked more outraged than scared.  “I never gave him a key!  Did I
forget to lock the front door?”  She made a frustrated sound.  “Even so, what
kind of weirdo just walks into his ex-girlfriend’s house, huh?”  She belted her
robe tighter, preparing to get up.  “Is there such a thing as re-dumping,
because I think I’m about to have yet
another
awkward conversation with
that…”

Jamie
cut off her complaints.  “Stay quiet, love.”  He slowly got to his feet, rage
and fear filling him.  “Just stay right there and donea do anything to draw his
attention.”

Grace
had pointedly bolted her bedroom door earlier, as part of her futile effort to
keep Jamie out.  The wooden barrier was now all that kept her ex from barging
in.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Unlike
Grace, he didn’t see Robert as some harmless gnat, waiting to be shooed away. 
The man was twice Grace’s size and nursing a bruised ego.  Jamie’s father had
always been at his worst when he was trying to prove his manhood and Robert was
the same sort of bastard. 

Jamie
had a vivid recollection of the way Robert had grabbed Grace’s arm and shook
her, when she tried to leave his home.  He’d manhandled her like he had every
right to force compliance.  If Robert had the balls to show up here, demanding
her attention, he wasn’t going to settle for a firm “no.”  That fucking wanker
was no gentleman.  He sounded half-drunk and belligerent… and he clearly
planned to reclaim what he’d lost.

Whether
she wanted to be reclaimed or not.

Jamie
glanced back at Grace, soul-chilling images flashing through his mind.

Grace
chewed her lower lip, picking up on his tension.  “You think Robert’s
dangerous?”  She guessed, obviously not convinced.  “Granted, it seems like
he’s been drinking, but I don’t matter enough to him to risk jail time.”

“
He
matters enough to him.  Robert’s convinced himself that you’re his.”  Jamie
heard the possession in the bastard’s voice whenever he said her name.  “That
he has a claim to you.”

“I’m
not his.”

Jamie’s
gaze cut over to her, again.  “No, you’re not.”  He moved so he was standing
between the doorway and the mattress.  Between Robert and Grace.  …For all the
good it would do.  Goddamn it, what could he do to protect her when he wasn’t
even alive?  “Keep the door locked, alright?  He wouldn’t have come here unless
he was already spinning out of control.”

“I’m
not just going to sit in here while…”

“Seeing
you will just make him more determined to win.”  Jamie insisted, cutting her
off again.  Desperate for her to understand.  “I know you think I’m
overreacting, but I’ve met bullies like him before.  Liars and arrogant pricks,
who think they can take what they want through force and cruelty.  I was raised
by such a man.”

She
frowned.  “Your father was abusive?”

“He
was a fucking asshole, just like Robert.”

Robert
rattled the knob and it held tight.  “Grace!”  He called, not the least bit
apologetic over breaking in.  His type never saw their own faults, just the
imagined flaws and slights of others.  “You’re being childish.  How can we
discuss this if you’re ignoring me?  I just want to talk.  You know I won’t
harm you, for God’s sake.  This is ridiculous.”

“He
might go away if I speak with him for a couple minutes.”  She offered
hesitantly.  “It’s the easiest way to handle this.”

“
No
. 
Donea open that door.”

Grace
silently stared up at him.

The
choice was stark:  Put her faith in Jamie or in Robert.  For one panicked moment,
Jamie worried that Grace would refuse to believe her ex-boyfriend was a
threat.  That she would ignore Jamie’s frantic warnings and let him in.

“Please,
love.”  He whispered.  “Trust
me
and not him.  Please.”

Grace
blinked.  “Okay.”  She said simply.  …And just like that, she threw in with a
dead pirate over a man who was “husband material.”

It
was astonishing.

So
astonishing that it took Jamie a beat to catch up.  “Okay?”  He echoed, not
fully believing her quick agreement.

“Okay. 
I’ll keep the door locked.  But what are we going to do next?”

If
Jamie still had a heart it would have flipped in his chest.  No one had ever
trusted him so quickly and for so little reason.  It was humbling.  “I donea
know.  I’m thinking.  Just stay right there on the bed.”

“I
know you’re in there, Grace!”  Robert shook the door hard enough to rattle the
hinges.  “Damn it!  You at least owe me a conversation, you bitch!”  He banged
on the wood.  “
Let me in!
”

She
flinched and her gaze cut back over to Jamie.  For the first time, she began to
look worried.

In
his whole life and death combined, Jamie couldn’t recall ever being so
furious.  She was frightened and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about
it.  If he’d been corporeal, the world would be now down one paunchy museum
director.  Jamie would have slaughtered Robert without a second thought.

As
it was, he was no more effective than a light breeze.

Grace
should have a living man here protecting her.  Someone worthy and strong and
made of pure husband-material.  Someone with a fucking heartbeat.  The
inescapable truth of that did nothing to improve his mood.

“Son
of a
bitch
.”  Jamie took a deep breath, even though ghosts didn’t need
to breathe.  “Where is your portable telephone, Grace?”

“In
the kitchen.  So’s the landline.”

“Fuck.” 
He’d never felt so useless.  “
Fuck
.”

She
frowned a bit at his cursing, but he was too agitated to take his usual delight
in her uptight-ness.

“Grace?” 
Robert’s tone turned wheedling.  “This has gone on long enough, don’t you
think?  I was wrong, too.  I’ll admit it.  But at least
I’m
willing to
work this out in a mature fashion. 
You’re
the one who’s trying to throw
away everything we have over some cheap pizza-tramp.”

“He
always says ‘pizza-tramp’ like it’s a bad thing.”  She muttered.  “I’m thinking
it’s way preferable to being labeled semi-frigid, though.”

The
door rattled on its hinges.  “Jealousy is pointless, darling.  I’d rather be
screwing
you
that way.  You know that.  Just open the door and give me a
chance to show you what you’ve been missing.”

She
made a disgusted face.

Jamie
paced back and forth like a caged lion, his eyes on the doorway.  “What are you
wearing under the robe, Grace?”  He asked, already dreading the answer.

“Nothing.”

He
closed his eyes.  “Fuck.”  He whispered helplessly.  The only two things
between his woman and that son of a bitch were an old door and a thin bathrobe.

“It
was just supposed to be you and me in here, Jamie!”  Grace protested, like she
thought he was upset with her.  “I didn’t know
he’d
show up.”

Jamie
looked over at her, desperation filling him.  “I know, love.  It’s not your
fault.”  It also wasn’t her fault she was so fucking
small
.  A fay
creature hunted by violent, human hands.  There was no way she could put up a
struggle against Robert.  She’d try, but she’d lose.  “Truthfully, it’s not
going to matter what you’re wearing.  We just need to get you out of here.”

Brown
eyes blinked up at him, still not fully understanding the seriousness of her
predicament.  “For real?  You want me to flee my own apartment?”

“Yes!” 
He wanted her someplace --anyplace-- far from here.

Jamie
had never been this terrified.  Not when he’d heard his father’s footsteps
coming for him as a boy.  Not when his ship nearly went down in a hurricane off
the South Carolina coast.  Not even when they’d lynched him in the street.  Grace
was so damn vulnerable and important and special and there was nothing he could
do to protect her.

Nothing
at all.

“Push
the dresser in front of the door.”  He ordered and strode over to check the
window.  It was a three story drop onto pavement.  “
Fuck!
”

“Cursing
is really not going to help.”  Grace said with another frown in his direction.

“Well
it’s sure as fuck not going to hurt.”  Could she break through the wall somehow
and get into the next apartment?  Doubtful since they were made of solid
brick.  “Did you have to live in a building that predates the Civil War, lass?” 
He was actually longing for cheaply thrown together modern construction right
now.

“Because
things would be so much better if that was a hollow-core door, right?”

She
had a point.  The antique door was holding.  For now.  “Would you move that
damn thing, please?”  He gestured to the painted chest of drawers against the
wall, which she still wasn’t shoving into position as a barricade.  It was ugly
as sin, older than even Jamie, and made of solid oak.

Grace
made a face.  “It’s going to knock all my figurines.”  She muttered, but she
reluctantly headed over push at its massive weight.  “Stupid Robert.”  The
heavy dresser slowly inched its way across the floor.  On its wide top, chipped
and glued statues mermaids rattled, several of them toppling to the ground. 
Grace winced as they shattered, but wedged the chest of drawers into place.

Jamie
wished that was all it took to solve the problem.

“When
are you going to see your own fault in this?”  Robert demanded, changing
tactics.  “I have
needs
, goddamn it.  I told you that, but you don’t
seem to even hear my side of this.  It’s because you couldn’t have an orgasm if
three men were fucking you!  You told me yourself you’ve
never
climaxed.  How do you think that makes me feel?”

Jamie
arched a brow at her, trying to lighten the mood.  “Never?  Well, that’s just a
pity.”

Grace’s
face flushed bright pink.

“A
man needs someone warm beneath him!”  Robert ranted.  “He needs to feel
wanted
. 
You should be
begging
me to take you back.  No one else would want you
or your lunatic family in his life, you semi-frigid freak!”

Grace
looked up at Jamie again, like she was worried he might be falling for that
horseshit.

“You
know who says women are frigid?”  He scoffed.   “Assholes who suck in bed. 
Donea listen to a word that bastard says.  I told you he was a liar.”

Grace’s
mouth curved.  “You, I imagine, never met a girl you couldn’t satisfy.”

“It’s
a point of pride, really.  Give me a chance to show you my skills and I’ll keep
my perfect record intact.  I promise you, I can make you
very
happy.” 
He winked at her, hoping to cover his anxiety.  “Get back on the bed, now.”  He
didn’t want her near the door, in case Robert got through.

The
wanker was now trying to kick it in.

Jamie
scanned around the room for a weapon she could use.  “Do you know how to
fight?”  It was a longshot, but he was praying she’d reveal that she’d secretly
trained with the Navy SEALs for some reason.

Grace
shook her head, kneeling on the mattress.  “Riveras don’t do a lot of
hand-to-hand combat.  Well, my cousin Destiny tried a ninja spell once, but it
resulted in some bad Karate chopping, and smashed up picket fences, and 911
calls.”  She made a face.  “Spells are
always
a bad idea.”

Staggering
relief flooded Jamie as he remembered who this tiny girl really was.  “You’ve
magic in your blood.”  How could he have forgotten that?  “
You
can stop
this, lass.  You just need to…”

Grace
cut him off, looking scandalized.  “I don’t use spells!  Maybe an occasional
potion, but only when I’m
completely
out of normal options.”

“We’re
out of
all
fucking options, Grace!”  He stormed over to stand in front
of her.  “Do something
now
or that fucking little fuck is going break in
here and rape you right in front of me!”

Grace
blanched and not at his language.  “He wouldn’t…”

“He
will
.”  Jamie interrupted.  “I know bad people, lass, and he’s a bad
person.  He
will
hurt you, unless you do something to stop him.  Trust
me.”

The
door bulged inward a bit, knocking more of the knickknacks onto the floor.

Tears
glittered in Grace’s eyes and he knew she believed him.  “Jamie, I’m scared.”

The
tremor in her voice made him want to kill Robert with his bare hands.  If it
meant taking away her fear, he would have gladly cut a deal with God to return
to his wasteland of isolation forever.  Jamie would give anything to help her
finally feel safe.