Chapter 5

The kitchen emanated warmth and vintage charm, as if she had stepped into another world from long ago. Yellow curtains with red tulips graced the window over the sink, and one wall boasted a familiar replica of Grace, the renowned photo of a peddler saying prayers over a bowl of soup and a loaf of bread. Taking in more of her surroundings, she noticed the room also embodied tidiness and spit-shine cleanliness, a result of his long stint in the army, no doubt.

Stephan nodded her into a chair at the table and leaned against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. "Should I pull out a chair for my brother?"

"Very funny. You're kind of an ass hat, you know that?"

"Yeah." He ran his hands through the midnight hair at his forehead. "Others have said the same and much worse. Anyway, how come you can see him, hear him and I can't?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I have no idea. Stuart claims since his death, no one has been able to see or hear him, though not for lack of trying. He also says some might see only a whisper of smoke or a fuzzy outline, others will see the ghost in full form, including his or her expression. "

"Let me guess, you can see the whole enchilada?"

Lips turned down into a frown, she nodded.

"That's odd, which leads me to believe there must be a tie-in. Not saying I believe any of this bullshit, but why you? Which leads me to my next question: What were you doing at the hotel? Do you work there or were you a guest?"

"That's two questions. The answer is both, I work there, temporarily, and I'm also a guest, with my sister, Violet."

He drew the first word out. "Okay. What kind of temporary work are you doing? I mean, put the words together—woman, hotel and temporary work—and it adds up to an age-old profession."

"What! You're calling me a hooker? Do I look like one? On second thought, don't answer that; I don't give a spider's ass what you think of me."

"A spider's ass? That must be awfully small."

"Bingo."

"Chill out, Rooney. I'm not passing judgment, just trying to figure out why my brother chose you to haunt."

She licked her dry lips and waited for help from Stuart. Lacking the same, she stammered through her answer. "I wouldn't call it haunting, more like stalking me."

"Rooney, what are you doing at the La Bonne Chance Casino?"

"Oh, man, this-this is going to sound so lame. You'll doubt my mission once I tell you. Trust me, I've never believed in communing with the dead, never believed in ghosts, poltergeists, or any of that paranormal stuff, but my sister, Vi, she convinced me to take this gig, she's the one—"

"Something tells me you're gonna need a drink for this one. Hell, I'll need three drinks if that look on your face is any indication." While he opened a cupboard and pulled a short glass from the shelf, she watched him and wondered why she wanted him to keep talking. She could listen to that sexy voice forever. He filled the glass with whiskey and set it down on the table in front of her. "Spit it out Rooney Fontaine. I didn't promise you an entire afternoon."

"Did I ask for one? No, and I have to be back in Victory no later than seven-thirty. For my job," she added.

"Which is?"

"I'm getting there. Sheesh, you're not only an ass hat, but pushy to boot."

"You got a smart mouth, kinda dirty too. Do you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"

"None of your business whom I kiss, and as I was about to say, Vi took this gig for us, mostly because it's good money and we send most home to Gran for Vanessa's medical expenses."

Stephan slid into a chair across from her, rested his chin in his hand and pretended to snore.

"All right, already! Vi does believe in the paranormal. In fact, she claims she can see and hear ghosts ever since an encounter with one when she was ten. She convinced me to assist her when she holds séances."

His head came up. "Oh, hell no. You're into séances?"

"Yes, but only to help Vanessa. I've never been able to see or hear those who have crossed over before…before your brother, that is."

"Crossed over?"

"That's a term Vi insists we use. They hate being called dead people, but speaking of crossing over, Stuart hasn't been able to because of unfinished business. That unfinished business is the lawsuit, his murder and you. You wouldn't know about any of that because you were in Afghanistan, apparently."

His particular focus on her lips made her squirm in the chair. "Iraq most recently, but tell me why I should believe he didn't commit suicide like the newspaper said, like the sheriff said, like the death record says?"

"All wrong according to Stuart. He went there to meet someone…a man. You knew he was gay, right?"

Stephan nodded, his expression passive.

"He claims two masked men were waiting for him when he checked into the room and tossed him over the balcony."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because of the lawsuit he filed against the fracking company. He insists they'll be coming for you."

"Miss Fontaine—"

"Rooney. Oh, crap, not good. You've gone from calling me Rooney to Miss Fontaine. You're not buying any of this, are you?"

"No, and I know nothing about a lawsuit. I find it hard to believe someone would kill him over one."

Stuart stood so close to her, she felt the heat pouring off his ghostly body. He'll find the legal papers behind the paneling in my bedroom.

"God, Stuart, where have you been? You left me dangling like a worm on a hook."

I've been here the entire time, fascinated by the banter and the chemistry between you and my brother.

When she fixed her gaze on Stephan again, he gave another eye roll. "Let me guess, he's talking to you?"

"Yes." She held a finger in the air to silence the gorgeous man across from her. "Okay, he says he stuffed the lawsuit papers behind the paneling in his bedroom, six panels from the door on the left."

"This should be fun." He came to his feet and spread his arms out. "I haven't been on a treasure hunt for years. Care to join me?"

"Ass hat," she whispered, pushed back her chair and stood.

Rooney followed Stephan through the dining room and living room, which were similar in ambience and décor as the kitchen. The rooms were spacious, yet cozy from the landscape pictures on the wall to the overstuffed chairs and welcoming sofa with plump, colorful pillows. At the end of the rooms, a landing with a set of stairs led to the second level. Here Stephan paused and with a flourish of his arm, indicated she should navigate the steps ahead of him.

The second level boasted a long hallway with a bathroom and bedroom on the right and two additional bedrooms on the left.

Stephan took the lead and stopped in front of a closed door. "This is, correction, was Stuart's room. I haven't been in here since the sheriff stopped by. I closed the door and tried to pretend it didn't exist. Too many memories from our childhood and…."

Her heart melted. Aside from the badass persona, this man exuded strength and resiliency. Without hesitation she placed a hand on his forearm and said the first thing that came to her mind. "I can't imagine coming home from war to find your only living relative had died. I mean it when I say I'm so sorry."

He looked down at her hand on his arm. Did he feel the same electric current passing between them? The moment they touched, she felt it, but had no idea he might have too. For a brief second, had she even wished he had? Stop it Rooney, you're allowing your imagination to run wild. You don't need more complications in your life right now, especially not with another man who's no doubt like all the rest, who's never heard the word monogamous, much less practiced it.

Their gazes met and held. A rush of heat flooded her neck and face. Faster than a viper strike she removed her hand from his arm and grappled for words. "I-I didn't mean to…that is, I'm kind of a touchy-feely person. As Vi would say, too expressive for my own good. I meant to comfort—"

"I dig expressive women."

"You do?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you always know where you stand with them."

"You do?"

His eyes caressed her, those beautiful orbs piercing her core. "You already said that, 'you do' twice."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear but couldn't bring herself to look away. She'd never felt such a pull from a man. God, did he have invisible magnetic body armor or something?

When you two are done playing come-hither, can we do what we came up here to do?

"Gotta hand it to ya, you're a very persistent stalker."

"Oh, so now I'm a stalker too?"

"No, not you. I was talking to your brother. He's reminding me we came up here for a reason."

Stephan looked over her shoulder.

She poked a finger through vacant air. "He's right here, on my left."

"I keep forgetting." He turned the knob and pushed the door open. "Or maybe I won't allow my mind to accept it."

"I'm pretty sure it's the latter."

After stepping into the room he turned to her. "Where did he say these legal papers were?"

"Six panels to the left of the door."

He walked the short distance and dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor. After prodding and pushing the single panel of wood a few times, he turned to her with a grin. "Seems as if it's loose." Wedging his nails behind the wood, he pulled the panel from the wall and stared into what appeared to be a cubbyhole. "What do we have here?" He reached in, grabbed the documents and handed them to her. "You do the honors."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't feel right—"

"If it weren't for you, and Stuart, of course, we wouldn't know they existed. I insist."

"All right," she said with trepidation and opened the folded papers. "They're legal documents. They say, Catskill Resources, Inc., Defendant, vs. Stuart Granger, Plaintiff. Filed this 20th day of January 2015, 8th Judicial District, Erie County, New York."

"I'll be damned." His eyes narrowed. "Is there the name of a lawyer on there?"

"Yes, they were filed on behalf of Stuart by William Chester, Esquire. He lists his address as Silver Creek, New York."

"Maybe I'll have to pay Mr. Chester a visit, find out what he knows."

Before she could form an answer, the sound of rapid gunfire split the air in rapid succession. Windows shattered, bullets thudded against floorboards. A strong arm reached out and grabbed her, tossing her to the floor so fast dizziness overtook her. A rock-hard body covered her like a protective canopy, every muscle taut and attuned to the aura of danger surrounding them. Stunned by the aggressive move, she stared into the face hovering over hers. "What was that; what's happening?"

"Gunfire." He placed a finger over her lips to shush her, whispering his next words. "You have a beautiful mouth, very kissable."

"Are you kidding me? You're talking about my mouth while bullets whiz by our heads?"

"I know, crazy, isn't it? Don't fault me for blurting out what's in my head, or for the timing. I can't explain why I have an irresistible urge to kiss you right now."

Trembling beneath him, she had a hard time determining whether it was from the sense of danger or his unexpected confession. "Are you going to?"

"No." To her overwhelming disappointment, he slid away, maintaining his low position on the floor. "I'm going to find out what's going on outside."

"What! You're leaving?"

"You need to stop talking. I don't know if they're in the house or close to it. Do not sit up or stand, do you understand, Rooney?"

She nodded, acutely aware her heart had launched into triple beats. Had someone followed her from the library; had she led them—whoever them was—to the house? She recalled something Stuart once said. 'They'll be at the house soon, if they haven't been there already.' Stuart. Why had he fallen silent? "Where are you, Stuart? Are you still here? Stuart! Answer me."

Sorry, Rooney, I'm fading fast. Must have used up too much energy coming….

"God, not now! Stuart, you've got to tell us who's out there. Please!"

Fading, Rooney…fading….

She was vaguely aware of Stephan crab-crawling down the hallway to another room, his room, she assumed. Panic assailed her as the minutes ticked by.

Long minutes later, he returned, dragging a large duffle bag behind him. He opened it and when he pulled out a weapon she gasped. "What's that?"

"A Remington 700."

"I didn't mean the make and model."

"You didn't? You asked what it was. I assumed everyone knows what a rifle is."

"How can you remain so calm at a time like this?"

"I'm used to perilous situations. This is nothing compared to…never mind."

"You're loading the rifle? Crap, does that mean you-you're going to shoot back at them?"

"Maybe you'd prefer I let them kill us."

"Of course not, but…but…."

"Look, I'm going to rappel out that window in my room." He handed her the pistol tucked into his waistband. "Do you know how to use this?"

She pushed it away. "No, definitely no. I'm not shooting anyone."

"Sit up, very slowly." While she complied, he slid a lever in place and pulled back on a teensy hammer like piece of metal. He placed it in her hand again. "All set. Now turn around, hold it with both hands and keep your eyes on that stairway. Anyone comes up those steps, you pull the trigger. Right here," he said and touched it.

"No, I won't, can't. I've never even held a gun."

"Listen to me. Whoever is out there isn't playing around. You said they killed Stuart, and I guess you were right. I have no intention of allowing them to do the same to us."

"But…."

"I don't have time to argue with you. Do as I say and I'll come back as soon as I can." He crawled toward the bedroom, saying over his shoulder, "Make sure before you pull that trigger it's not me coming up the stairs."

"I can't fricking believe this," she said and realized he'd already cleared the hallway.