Page 10 of Ghost

Shaking off my crazy thoughts, I shove the blanket aside and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. That's when I spot a bottle of pain reliever with the cap off and a bottle of water sitting on the nightstand. Reaching out, I swipe the bottle, shake out two pills, pop them in my mouth, twist the cap off the water, and eagerly wash down the medicine. My head still hurts, but it's not as bad as before.

Setting the half-empty water bottle back on the table, I struggle to stand and pad over to the en-suite bathroom. I flip the light switch then wince, my eyes unprepared for the brightness. Once my eyes adjust, I take in the sheer size of the bathroom, which is almost the size of the bedroom. It's my dream bathroom. On one side is a walk-in shower that could fit my entire bathroom back home. On the opposite side from the shower is an oversized clawfoot tub. You could easily fit three people in it. "Wow," I mutter.

Making my way over to the sink, I notice a pile of clothes with an unopened toothbrush on top. I peer down to find the filthy garments I've had on for the past couple of days removed, but I don’t remember taking them off myself. My face heats. He must have taken my clothes off me.

I stare at my reflection, taking in all the bruises and my swollen face. Russ did a number on me. How can someone be so evil?

I want to wash away every memory of what happened in that basement. Without wasting another moment, I strip while walking over to the shower, open the glass door, and turn on the hot water. It doesn't take long for it to heat, and the second I step under the spray of hot water, I close my eyes and let out a throaty moan.

After I’ve finished with my shower, I wrap a fluffy towel around my body and make my way over to the sink to brush my teeth. When I pick up the clothes left on the counter, I hold them up. Ghost gave me a pair of men's sweatpants and a plain, long sleeve t-shirt. I'll admit, butterflies erupted inside my tummy at the thought of wearing his clothes. Discarding the towel, I pull on the pants, which are several sizes too big, making me have to roll them at the waist. Thankfully they have a drawstring, or they'd fall off my frame. Next, I slip the shirt over my head, the hem falling to my thighs.

Looking in the mirror, I take in my reflection. I look utterly ridiculous, but I love it because they’re his clothes. And just like that, the butterflies are back. With one last glance in the mirror, I take a deep breath. I don't know what awaits me beyond the bedroom walls, but it's time to find out.

A thought creeps into my brain. What if he wants me to leave? Do I want to go back to the bar and my empty life? Waves of sadness and loss overwhelm me at the mere idea of having to do any of those things.

Mustering all my courage, I exit the bathroom and cross to the bedroom door. A savory aroma assaults my senses when I open it, making my stomach rumble and my mouth water. I slowly walk down the hall, my heart rate picking up with each step I take. When I reach the living room, I take in the warmth from the fireplace but no Ghost. Padding around the corner to the kitchen, I find it empty. I do, however, discover the source of the delicious smell simmering on the stovetop.

A faint thwacking draws my attention, and I move toward the direction the sound is coming from, slowly making my way to the living room window. Flicking the curtain back, I peer out, noticing a man off in the distance.

Biting my bottom lip, I decide to step outside. Next to the door, I spot my shoes and slip them on. A gust of cold air hits my face when I step outside, making me shiver. Ignoring the chill, I wrap my arms around my waist as I walk further off the porch and trek toward the man. With each step, my heart rate increases. My breath catches when he swings the ax in his hands. Before he brings it down into the length of wood, his head jerks in my direction, and his intense stare stops me in my tracks. We hold each other's gaze for a moment before he drops the ax to the ground, suddenly eating the distance between us.

"What are you doing out here?" Ghost grunts, the sound of his voice deep and grave. He shrugs off his coat and wraps it around my shoulders. "Arms in." His tone is low, barely audible.

I close my eyes and breathe in his scent. It smells of cedar, smoke, and pine. When I open my eyes, I catch him staring at me and feel my cheeks heat.What is wrong with me?Coming to my senses, I force my mouth to form words. "I need to be able to see you." I want to kick myself for being so honest.

"Come on," he says, leading me back to his cabin.

Inside, I follow him into the kitchen. Ghost doesn't speak a word, instead opening the cabinet and pulling down a bowl. He stomps over to the stove, picks up a spoon, scoops out whatever is in the pot and dumps it in the bowl. "Eat." He places the food down on the table. My stomach chooses that moment to let out an audible growl.

I give him a small smile. "Thanks," I whisper. Shrugging off his coat, I hang it over the back of the chair and sit.

My rescuer leans against the counter, crosses his arms over his broad chest, and proceeds to watch me while I eat. I try ignoring the way his eyes burn straight through me. My hands shake when lifting the spoon, and I keep my eyes trained on the bowl of beef soup. I moan as the savory flavors dance across my tongue. A deep growl from Ghost has my head lifting and my eyes connecting with his gray ones. The look on his face is heated. Everything about the man is intense. He is hands-down the most attractive man I have ever laid eyes on. He easily stands around six-foot-four and has brown hair with a generous amount of gray. He looks in his early forties, but the lines around his eyes and the gray in his hair suggest he's possibly older. I can tell from how his biceps stretch the material of his shirt that he works out. But beneath all his handsome features is something more.

"It's time to talk," he grunts.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"You sure you got no one you need to call?"

"I'm sure," I tell him. “I don't have anyone. My dad passed away two years ago, so it’s just me."

Ghost's gray eyes study me for a second. "All right, let's start with how you ended up in Mejia’s basement."

I scrunch my forehead. "Mejia?" I tuck a strand of my wet hair behind my ear. "You mean, Russ?" I shift in my seat, feeling uneasy under his heavy stare. "I take it Russ isn't his real name?" I look at Ghost, who confirms with a tight nod. I take a deep breath. "He was a regular at the bar where I work. He'd been coming in for over a year."

"How did he snatch you?" he asks through gritted teeth. His obvious irritation makes me nervous, and I do my damnedest to avoid looking at him. "Eyes," he bites out. My head snaps up. "I'm not mad at you, baby." He softens his tone. "I'm angry at the motherfucker for putting his fucking hands on you."

Shocked, I can only stare at Ghost as his words resonate. There is no ignoring that he called me baby or how it made me feel. Clearing my throat, I continue. "Um…anyway, Russ, he uh…liked me. I thought he was harmless. He seemed kind of shy, and I never thought—" My words get stuck in my throat. "He was waiting for me at my house the night he took me. He was at the bar and ordered his usual. He was polite, ate his meal, drank his beer, paid, then left. Just like he always did."

A moment of silence hangs between us before Ghost asks, "Did he…" He leaves his sentence hanging.

I notice his stiff posture and clenching fists and know what he's trying to ask. I shake my head. "No. He didn't get the chance, if that was his intention." I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s not lost on me what Russ—Mejia—whatever his name is would have done had Ghost not shown up when he did. Remembering the sound of his voice in my ear and the feel of shackles against my skin, my stomach churns.

A large, calloused hand cupping my jaw brings me out of my nightmare. I peer up at him, who is standing in front of me. A single tear slides down my cheek, and he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe it away. "No one will ever hurt you again," Ghost declares, his words delivering a promise and his touch giving me hope.

7

GHOST

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