Jermy, Marie - Together Forever [The Andersons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (24 page)

He reached for his clothes and boots. He’d just tied the laces and tucked the Beretta down the back of his jeans, when a scream, and a bloodcurdling one at that, sent a finger of fear down his spine and twisted his guts into knots.

Jessica!

Snatching up his Magnum, Ross bolted from the room and smacked straight into Jessica, sending her flying. She landed just inside the dining room doorway, her head hitting the tiled floor with a thud.

He was beside her in a flash, easing her to her feet and gently probing his fingers through her hair and over her scalp. Thankfully, there was no blood or lumps and bumps. He did notice one thing, though—her eyes, wide and wild with fear. He rubbed his hands over her shoulders, and noted an iciness to her skin, like she’d just jumped into a cold bath, only she was bone dry.

“Jess, sweetheart, you’re freezing. What have you been doing? And why’d you scream?” She made a strangled sound, shook her head, then crumpled to the floor. He hauled her back to her feet. “Answer me! Goddamn it!” She clung onto his shirt, her knuckles white, her breathing coming out in quick pants, making it difficult to understand her. “Jess, calm down and breathe. In. Out. In. Out. That’s it,” he encouraged when her breathing settled slightly. “Now, start again.”

“Fing…fingers. Ten. Blood.”

Just then a deafening rumbling buckled the floor beneath his feet, rattled the china on a nearby cabinet, and swung the hanging chandelier, causing their bulbs to blink on and off. “Are we having an earthquake?” he asked, stunned.

But not half as stunned as he was to see the apparition that appeared behind Jessica. He had to be seeing things. He definitely needed to book an appointment with an optometrist. Either that or attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

“Bloody fingertips. Ten of them. On the counter in the downstairs bathroom.”

“What?” he asked, only half listening.

“Ross, please!” she screeched, tugging on his shirt in order to regain his attention. However, it remained fixed on something behind her. She turned around and again screamed.

The owner of those ten bloodied fingertips was approaching them. Advancing. Menacing. Like death.

Just as she screamed again, Ross put his brain into gear. Yanking Jessica to his side and slightly behind him, he aimed his Magnum at Meathead’s chest and fired. The bullet made little impact. If anything, it passed straight through him and imbedded in the wall behind. No way! His aim was just off, that’s all. Nor was Meathead a ghost. He was alive, having obviously survived being shot up his ass.

Rafferty had lied, which made Ross think about what else Rafferty had lied about. The camera footage at the bar? Had Rafferty actually been there at the time and seen Jessica take Harknett’s BlackBerry? Was Rafferty the one who wanted Jessica dead? Had he made the threats to her life? His name was listed, so it would be reasonable to assume he would do anything to get the BlackBerry back. But why? What was so important about those other names, the names of dead police officers, Sam Carrick included?

Ross’s head buzzed with too many questions and not enough time for the answers.

“Ross…”

Jessica’s terrified tone jerked Ross into action. He had a job to do. A woman to protect. His woman. Deducing Meathead wore a bulletproof vest, Ross took aim and repeatedly shot him in the head. Incredibly, Meathead kept on coming. This was
so
not happening. The bullets had no effect whatsoever. When the clip was empty, Ross dropped the Magnum, reached for the Beretta, and squeezed the trigger.

And promptly dropped it.

Instead of a bullet, the barrel ejected an intense, narrow beam of white light, and as Ross gaped, Meathead, making pained, weird noises, literally disintegrated before his eyes.

“Wow!” a small voice squeaked.

“Wow doesn’t even begin to describe it.” Beside him, Jessica shook and shivered. As Ross went to embrace her, another more disturbing sight appeared behind her.

Blade Harknett.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ross dropped to his knees, snatched up the Beretta, and fired. He wasn’t quick enough. Harknett stepped to one side and disappeared through a wall, the laser beam scorching a hole where he’d once stood. Or rather, hovered.

“Okay,” Ross drawled, stunned right down to his toes, “now I’m a believer.”

“Great! Now that you believe in ghosts, maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you I’m not going to leave you. Ever. I want to be your wife. I want your babies. I want the kind of marriage my parents have. That your parents have…Ross, are you listening?”

Incredulous, and like a goldfish, Ross gaped at Jessica. “You want to discuss our relationship now?”

“Why not? It’s as good a time as any.”

“You sure pick your moments.”

“I might not get another chance.”

“Bullshit! There’ll be plenty of chances.” He strode into the dining room, dragging her with him. “First, you need to put your clothes on. Second, we need to get that BlackBerry to Mike. Apart from you, he’s the only person I trust at the moment.” He stopped and faced her. “You need to take it to Mike. I want you away from here. I want you safe. I’ll send Harknett to hell. Go with him if that’s what he wants—”

“No!” Jessica screeched, interrupting Ross. “I am not leaving you. We’re in this together. Together forever.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Ross did his goldfish impression. Together forever. He couldn’t believe she’d said that. “Together forever? How…What did you…What in hell!” he exclaimed when a small, round, and hard object dropped on his head.

It was a glass marble. Another followed. Then another. Then a whole hailstorm.

Being pelted with a child’s toy by an unseen enemy was not his idea of fun. Certainly not when Jessica was being hurt. Turning her around so her back was pressed against his chest, Ross shielded her as they both ducked under the dining table. Her jeans and top were within easy reach. As she quickly dressed, he felt around the tabletop with his right hand for the BlackBerry.

His fingers enclosed over it just as something sharp sliced across his knuckles. He disguised his wince with a grin and cracked, “Gives a whole new meaning to losing one’s marbles, doesn’t it? Not that Harknett had many to begin with.”

Jessica’s laughter died in her throat when the blade of a dinner knife punctured through the wood above her, and Ross’s grinning face contorted with agony. He let out a long moan just as the edge of the cloth hanging in front of her stained red.

Ross’s arm was still looped up and over. Horrified, she inched out from under the table, not giving a damn about the marbles still drumming down. She turned as white as the tablecloth. Well, the parts that weren’t turning crimson from the blood pumping from the top of Ross’s hand where it had been impaled, anyway.

She ducked back under. Beads of sweat had popped up on Ross’s forehead. She cradled his face in her hands and breathed a kiss on his lips. “Close your eyes. Imagine me naked.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” His eyelids drifted closed. “Tell me what you’d like me to do to you. Anything goes.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Well, I hear that touching a man’s prostate gland can result in one explosive orgasm. So I’d like you to stick your fingers up my ass.”

She grimaced as she crawled out from under the table and inspected the knife plunged into Ross’s hand. Oh, boy. She had said anything goes, but that? Gross!

“Oh, yeah. Suck my cock until I shoot in your mouth. I love that deep-throat action of yours.”

Mmm, now that was more appetizing. To her relief, it stopped raining marbles. “Keep talking, Ross.” She took hold of the heavy and ornate silver handle…

“Your tongue is lapping my cock. I’m growing hard. And you’re going for seconds…”

She wrenched the knife out. There was a howl, a vicious curse, and his freed hand disappeared quicker than she could blink. She pocketed the bloodied and damaged phone and rejoined Ross, who shot her a murderous look as he wrapped his tie around the wound, stemming the flow of blood. “There’s no way I’m sticking my fingers up your ass.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His smile was tight and edged with pain. “I was yanking your chain. Again.”

“Moron!” She laughed before the seriousness of their situation kicked in. “How are we going to fight Harknett? We can’t see him. And when he does show himself…” She tapped the butt of the Beretta tucked in his waistband. “He’s not exactly going to stay still long enough for me to laser beam his ass back into hell.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You?”

“Me. You can’t do it. You right hand is your shooting hand.”

“Hey! I’m not entirely useless. I’ll have you know I’m ambidextrous. I can shoot from either hand.”

Her brow wrinkled as an idea began to take shape. “But can you shoot straight?”

An easy grin creased his features. A truly inappropriate time to think about sex, but at least it dulled the pain. “You know I can.” Those amber flecks in her eyes took on a devious twinkle, and a sobering thought wiped his grin away. “You’ve got a plan.”

“I do.” She smiled at the image those words conjured up. “Together forever, Ross. You and me. Will you marry me?”

Trust Jessica to make him feel less of a hypocritical prick by slyly asking how he broke his nose. However, his answer would have to wait. He reached up and ran his thumb across her bottom lip before taking her left hand in his and holding it against his chest, his beating heart going haywire beneath her fingers. “You’ve definitely got a plan.”

* * * *

Jessica’s plan was relatively simple. And Ross hated it. There was no way he’d allow her to be bait. Or as she’d put it, “the wormie on the hookie.” Harknett being the fish. Him, the reel and rod. Yet again though, she displayed her stubborn side, and no amount of reasoning shifted her. Still, when it came to the “hookie”—the BlackBerry—he showed her he could be just as stubborn. She finally agreed, or so he thought, to give it to his partner, Mike Travis, if he didn’t make it.

“Do you think Rafferty is here?” Jessica asked when she detected the familiar chill in the air.

They now stood at the foot of the staircase, faces set with grim determination while she used strips torn from a napkin to rebandage his injured right hand. Ross wiggled his fingers, wincing at the stab of pain the movement produced. “I hope so, because once I’ve finished with Harknett, I’m gonna laser beam his ass.”

“But why?” She took the Beretta from Ross’s left hand. “He gave you this because he knew your Magnum would be useless against Harknett. He’s on our side, Ross. And I think we should give
him
the BlackBerry, not Mike.” He curled his lip, a sure sign a sarcastic retort was imminent. “Okay, we’ll laser beam his ass.” She bit her bottom lip. “Ross? About Sam. Do you think he’s alive?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Then don’t think. Like you said, Carrick’s a lifetime ago. And whether he’s alive or dead, I’m not about to hurt my family, or yours, by digging up the past.” He smiled as he gently brushed his fingers along her cheek. “I broke my nose when I fell out of the tree overlooking Emily Coy’s bedroom.”

Jessica blinked. And she thought she was the expert at changing the subject. She knew why though. She didn’t want to dig up the past any more than Ross did. “You say I pick my moments. Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

“Yes.”

She smiled a wide, loopy grin. “Who’d have thought it? Detective Ross Anderson Junior, otherwise known as the Ace by cops and cons alike, is a former Peeping Tom.”

Ross feigned a hurt expression before taking Jessica in his arms and kissing her passionately. He drew back after several long moments. “There’s a reason why you had trouble removing that engagement ring from your finger. Once it’s on, it’s never meant to come off.” He sighed and let her go. “It’s a pity it’s upstairs in my backpack, otherwise I’d put it on you now.”