Ghostly Liaison (36 page)

It would take more than a rub or a shake this time.

The nurse who’d discovered them in the midst of playing—thankfully a former friend of Bridget’s—had come to take Rob walking. Bridget suggested she take him instead and boy, was he glad she had. Who knew his legs would wobble when he first stood on them? Who knew walking down the hall would feel like climbing a mountain? Who knew it would take him thirty minutes to accomplish that walk? Thirty damn minutes!

Except he didn’t walk down the hall and back. He leaned on Bridget and let her drag him. At least that’s how it seemed.

The only good thing regarding the whole electric-shock incident? It had happened to him and not her. If Bridget had ended up in the hospital or, God forbid, died, Rob would be behind bars for the murder of Carl Anders. No doubt about it. Just realizing how badly things could have gone had him shaking, and not from weakness. Rage bubbled below his calm exterior.

“We’re almost there,” she said, with an arm around his waist. Damn, if not for her arms holding him up he’d be crawling on the floor. Or lying there in a heap. He had no energy left.

“You sure you didn’t take me up a flight of stairs?” Man, even his voice wheezed. And he was going to make love to her earlier? Glad he was saved that embarrassment.

“This is why you walk. To get stronger. Do this a couple more times, and it’ll be a piece of cake.”

A couple more times? Hell, he’d be lucky if he survived the first trip.

The bed came into view and called to him. Unfortunately, it took him several minutes before he could plant his butt on the side. Once he did, he fell back in relief, panting.

She laughed. “What happened to the man who begged to go home today?”

“Decided to take advantage of being waited on. Where else can I get breakfast in bed, huh?”

“You want breakfast in bed? I might be able to do that one day. And the meal might even be better than what you’d get here. But I’m not promising anything.” She swung his legs up and covered him with the blanket. “Give me your robe.”

“No.” He pulled the front together. “I might decide to get up and use the bathroom. Don’t need to be airing my ass for everyone to see.” Provided he could even rise on his own.

“Oh, but it’s such a fine ass. They won’t mind.”

“Is that what you nurses do all day? Look at patients’ asses?”

“Only the ones worth looking at.”

She pulled the drape around the bed and went to sit on the chair, but he shook his head and raised the covers. “Don’t worry, I won’t be molesting you. I don’t think I have it in me anyways.”

She kissed him on the lips. “Tired?”

Exhausted. “A little, maybe.”

She slipped off her shoes and snickered before sliding beside him. His legs might be done for, but not his dick. Her nearness alone sprung the sucker to life. Too bad he couldn’t do anything with it.

“You deserve a reward, then.”

A reward, huh? Warmth surrounded his erection and he gasped. He loved her hand.

“Just lay back and enjoy.” Her ministrations got his heart racing. Good thing the nurse had disconnected the monitor for his walk. Hate to have her interrupt this time. Each stroke was pure pleasure. If all Bridget’s rewards were this good, he would make sure he earned plenty.

“How many times have you done this in a hospital?” As if he really wanted to know the answer to that question.

She leaned up and kissed him. “You’re the first. How about you?”

He liked being a first in her life. “A virgin. Just like you.”

She tickled his neck with her tongue. “Want me to stop?”

“Hell no.” He got harder and savored every moment. Being inside her would have been much better, but plan B wasn’t too shabby. He closed his eyes and focused on her attention. On each wave of pleasure. She lifted his gown and suckled on the right nipple, then the left, before running her tongue down his stomach. Fingers teased his testicles. He yearned to be in her so badly, but enjoyed her touch, too, until her mouth came down on him. Holy Mother of— He opened his eyes and found her head under the covers, bobbing up and down. He lifted the blanket. Seeing him in her mouth and the way she sucked was all it took for him to blow his load.

Damn. That hadn’t lasted near as long as he’d hoped.

* * * *

Her Prince Charming slept.

Bridget brushed back a lock of his hair. Rob was her life and she’d do anything to keep him safe. If that meant spilling her secret, then so be it.

She lightly kissed his cheek, savoring his scent for a moment before quietly slipping out of the bed. He stirred, but remained sleeping.

Slowly, she opened the bedside table’s drawer and found Rob’s cell. Lucky for her, he labeled everyone and she quickly found the name. She took the phone into the bathroom and punched in the number, silently praying the guy would answer.

As luck would have it, Dean Parker could see her in twenty minutes. After returning Rob’s phone, she slipped the backpack strap on her shoulder and stared at the man she loved. If he knew her plan, he would stop her—or make an attempt—so no sense in waking him. After leaving a note stating she’d be back in a couple of hours, she left the hospital and headed for Rob’s truck. The keys were still in her possession.

By the time she arrived at the private investigator’s building, her nerves were on edge and she shook. He couldn’t hurt her. Couldn’t condemn her. But if this didn’t work, she would be forced to meet Carl head-on and that thought alone twisted her stomach into knots. She took several deep breaths and entered the building. The reception area was empty.

“Mr. Parker? It’s Bridget Quigley.”

“It’s Dean and I’m in my office. Come on back.”

A muted voice followed. She walked down the short hall and stopped before reaching the door. Was he on the phone, or was someone else with him? She poked her head around the frame. He sat alone behind his desk, staring at a monitor.

“Hello? Is someone with you?”

He stood and grimaced for a moment before smiling. “Hi. No one’s here. Just talking to myself. Come on in.”

She stepped inside and her headache exploded. Guess whatever good luck Rob had given her had finally faded. She’d been with him so long, she’d gotten used to not having headaches.

Dean looked over her shoulder and frowned.

“You act like you can still see me.”

She spun toward the man behind her. Lanky and in his forties, he stood by the wall.

“You said you were alone,” she said.

“You can see him?” “You can see me?” Dean and the ghost said at the same time.

Now it made sense. The voices. Her headache. Dean’s strange behavior. The fact the man standing behind her floated above the ground. She turned toward the investigator. “You see ghosts, too.”

He plopped into his chair. “Holy shit.”

“Hallelujah! Someone else can see me besides this fat slob!”

“Hey!”

Her spirits soared. Dean saw ghosts. He’d believe her story and might be able to help. She held her hand out to the spirit. “Hi. My name’s Bridget. What’s yours?”

He floated over and took her hand, solidifying in the process. “Wow! I’ll never get tired of that rush. Mr. Party Pooper here doesn’t like me touching him. I’m Peter McDermott. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He continued holding her hand and while she didn’t want to begrudge the guy his temporary solidification, it still kind of creeped her out. His grip was strong and thoughts of Mary Alice from the river came to mind.

“Can I have my hand back?”

“Oh, if you must.” Peter released her and returned to floating.

“How long have you been dead?” Bridget sat in the chair as he appeared by the window. The popping to and fro unnerved her whenever Charlie did it. Peter was no different.

“I was killed—”

“You were not killed,” Dean interrupted. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

Peter folded his arms across his chest and pouted.

Okaaay. “Why do you think you were killed?”

He grinned as if he’d won a prize. “If someone takes your life, it’s murder, isn’t it?”

Dean shook his head. “The only person who took your life was you.”

“I wasn’t ready to go yet. It wasn’t my time. He was supposed to come save me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should have made sure he was home answering his phone before you took those pills.”

While Dean spoke, Peter mouthed the words and flapped his fingers in a talking motion. He didn’t seem to care about Dean witnessing this little rant, either.

“How long ago did this happen?”

Peter averted his gaze. Dean answered, “Thirty years ago.”

Thirty years? Hopefully, Peter wasn’t as deranged as Mary Alice. Being alone could do funny things to a person. She looked at Dean. “How long have you seen Peter?”

“Three years. After my heart attack. When I came back to work, I found him. He’d been here all along, but besides feeling a blast of cold every now and then, I never knew.”

Heart attack? Sure, he didn’t look in the best of shapes, but he didn’t seem that old. Maybe a few years older than Rob. “Did you die?”

“Technically? Yeah. For about three minutes.” His eyes widened. “Is that what happened to you?”

She nodded. “Do you think everyone with a near-death experience sees ghosts?” Wouldn’t that be something? Maybe they should start a club.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’m going to ask, though, you know what I mean?”

“I suppose.” One person seeing ghosts could be a nut. But several? It was something to consider anyway.

“I’m sure you didn’t come to talk about ghosts. You said you had something important to tell me?”

“Yeah, but it involves a ghost.” She told him everything she knew regarding Charlie, Nick, and Carl. Telling Dean turned out to be a whole lot easier without the fear of being ridiculed.

“Wow,” Peter said. “You saw Nick move on?”

“Not really. I passed out. I only assume he did because he’s not there anymore.”

“Is there a police report regarding your attack?” Dean asked.

“Yes. But I couldn’t very well tell them Carl did it after I told them I didn’t see anyone.”

“I know this is frustrating for you, but I have to ask. Are you sure Charlie told you the truth, or could she be telling you something she wants to believe is the truth?”

Bridget glanced at Peter. Hadn’t Rob said the same thing? “Too much has happened for me not to believe her.”

“Well, this definitely will give me more to work on. Assuming you still want me on the case.”

She nodded. Who else could she go to now?

“I might be able to find a motive for murder, but without any witnesses, or concrete evidence, it will be hard to prove.”

He mirrored her feelings exactly. “That’s why I think we should trap him. Get him to confess. I even bought a digital voice recorder.”

Dean held up his hands. “Whoa. Not a good idea. The man has killed. And he’s after you already. What does Rob think of your plan?”

She sagged in her seat as if someone had taken the air out of her. Dean was her only hope of not doing this alone. “I haven’t told him.”

He came around his desk and squatted in front of her, his knees creaking. “Because you know what he’ll say, huh?”

Yeah, she knew. “I can’t just sit still anymore. He nearly killed Rob today. What’s to stop him?”

“I understand how you feel. But let me put someone on him, first. Follow him twenty-four-seven. If we lose him, we contact you and Rob. If he’s as desperate as you make him sound, he’ll slip up. In front of a witness. Do you understand? You have to be patient.”

Patient, patient, patient. He sounded like Rob. She stood and paced. “You don’t understand. Rob wouldn’t be in danger if I hadn’t told him. If it weren’t for me….” She stopped and lowered her head as all her guilt came crashing down. “All I wanted to do was help Charlie and I’ve mucked it all up.”

Dean came to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Listen, I know it seems like you might have stirred the hornet’s nest, so to speak, but I honestly believe Rob’s life was in danger long before you got involved. So in essence, you
are
helping Rob.”

“I wish I could go to the police.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling. Let’s try the following part, shall we? At least through Monday.”

Monday seemed so far away. “Are you sure I couldn’t just call him and rattle him a little?”

“Please tell me that’s a joke.”

Not hardly. “Don’t worry. I won’t approach him.”

“Good girl. You can keep yourself busy by taking care of Rob. I’m sure he’s going stir-crazy in the hospital. I know I did. I’ll call you if anything new develops, okay? Are you going to tell Rob you came to see me?”

“Yeah, but I may leave out the part where I suggested I contact Carl.”

She left Dean in the process of calling his man and trudged back to the truck. Peter followed her out.

“Do you think once you help Charlie, she’ll move on?”

“Yeah, I think she will.”

“Do you think I’ll ever get to move on?”

Mary Alice had committed suicide and she appeared stuck, but Bridget didn’t have the heart to tell Peter her suspicions. “I honestly don’t know.”

He nodded, then disappeared.

The sun had set, turning the clouds into a pretty pink-and-orange glow. A cool breeze from the west ruffled her hair and she climbed into the truck.

Just as she closed the door, her phone went off. Thinking it was Rob, she hurriedly fished for her cell only to discover Devin’s number. Maybe she couldn’t do anything about Carl, but she could face Devin. If he could forgive her, then maybe she could forgive herself. She was certainly ready to try.

She pushed the answer button. “Hello, Devin.”

“Bridget? You finally taking my call?” His speech slurred.

Good Lord, had he been drunk all those other times he’d called? She’d never listened to any of his messages, having deleted them as soon as they were received. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you.”

He wept and it wrenched her heart. “I miss her, Bridget. I try to remember her and it’s like she’s fading from my memory. I feel like I’m losing her all over again.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I miss her, too. But drinking isn’t helping you any.”