Page 4 of Ghostly
“I know.” Gabriel didn’t need to, didn’t want to, hear it from Clifford’s mouth. Currently, he was worse for business than a recession and much more delightful for the media to sink their teeth into, as well.
Clifford rubbed his forehead. “I’d hate to lose you. You were good for the company.”
Were?Gabriel’s body locked up. Some people liked switching jobs and shifting hobbies and moving from place to place; for Gabriel, this was it, and always had been. When the teacher in seventh grade has asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, other kids saidastronaut, doctor, a pirate. Gabriel saidlawyer.
“It’s all just speculation for now, but once they get the juicy details…”
The room spun, centered around Clifford’s blurry face on the video.
Think, think, for god’s sake, think.“What if they don’t?”
“Excuse me?”
Gabriel swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Wyn—Mrs. Sinclair won’t talk. Beside her, I’m the only one who knows the real details. The photos can be dismissed—surely you can do something about that. And if they can’t get to me, eventually, they’ll have to give up.”
“Being dragged into the scandal would be a nightmare for the firm.” Clifford slowly nodded, scratching his chin. “So we bury the whole thing. We bury you.”
Gabriel winced at the wording, but kept quiet. Even a non-literal burial sounded horrible, but he had no other choice, and he was lucky enough Clifford was willing to help him. He’d do anything he said.
“You’ll have to leave. You’re too easy to sniff out in the city, or any place you have connections to. If anyone asks around in the firm, you’re on vacation because of your suspension. Wherever you’d gone to isn’t our problem. Yes?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said, slightly shaky. What about Wynona? Should they both run? No—that would only make it more suspicious. Besides, he wasn’t running.
He was disappearing.
Five hours to go
With a glance behind, Wynona sneaked into his apartment and took off her hood, her ponytail somehow still smooth and perfect underneath. She snuggled into his embrace, and they stayed like that for several minutes. “You can’t go.”
“It’s best for both of us,” Gabriel said.
“You don’t know—”
“Ernest and Clifford are taking care of everything. I leave, you stay here and pretend everything is fine, and in time, it will be.” He took her hands.Please, agree with me. He needed someone to tell him it would work.
But all he saw in her eyes was worry.
A door slammed shut on the hallway. “You should go,” he said. “Coming here was risky enough as it was. No more contact from now on, fine? Not until the situation has calmed down.”
Wynona pursed her lips in that typical fashion when something didn’t agree with her. “I love you,” she said, slightly disgruntled.
“Me, too.” She might still be one step below bringing coffee, but damn, he’d miss her where he was going.
A ball of icy lead in his stomach reminded him he should figure out that one, too.
One hour to go
Gabriel paced the living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the drink doing little to relax his nerves. The job he worked so hard to get, the apartment he never imagined he’d have, the life he loved—he’d have to leave it all behind.
He had to become a ghost.
He placed the drink by his laptop and ran a search for rentals. No apartments—he needed privacy. Pictures of houses blurred into each other as Gabriel zoomed past listings, brain switching to Research Focus mode. He didn’t need looks, he didn’t need a large space, he’d only be there during the winter so air conditioning was optional…
There.
An original Victorian house, renovated, offering plenty of privacy on the edge of a small town, five hours’ drive from here. Available immediately. Gabriel shot the owner a message and received a confirming answer not ten minutes later. Prompt—he liked that.
Or just anxious to lease out?
