Page 3

Chapter

Three

S ebastian rubbed his sweaty palms down the fronts of his thighs, trying not to freak out.

The big crew from some ghost-hunting show was coming to the house today to do a walk-through, and Hank had been forced to cancel being there with him because Antonia was running a bad enough fever that she’d had to stay home from school.

So, he was facing it down on his own. Mrs. Maroney next door was watching Abby while she did her morning yoga and game shows.

He’d thought about watching the show that was supposed to be coming to his house, but he didn’t want to be accused of trying to skew the results, and he didn’t like ghost shows, anyway. He had one at home. Right here, in living color.

“Okay, ghosts. I need you to really pull out all the stops. We need them to pay us the full amount, not just the partial.”

He’d boxed away a bunch of random personal stuff that was not fitting for the visual of a house from the 1800s.

Things like the printer and the blender and his big Waterpik that sat on the edge of the sink.

Well, he hadn’t packed the Waterpik away, he’d just stuck it under the sink in the cabinet, but still, that was the idea.

There was a certain amount of visual expectation for this sort of thing.

Haunted houses needed to have a certain cache.

That was one of the reasons he left his tarot cards out. He’d been reading tarot cards for a living for over a decade now, and it suited him and his schedule incredibly well.

He was good at it; he liked it. He had a dozen or so really decent clients who trusted his advice.

He had a handful of one-offs, which was fine.

It wasn’t a great living, but it was good enough, and it allowed him to have time to raise his baby and get outside, go skiing in the winter and hiking in the summer.

He walked over to the desk and picked out a card from his favorite deck. It was, naturally, the Tower. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? Ultimate sacrifice for ultimate power.

He looked up at the ceiling. “Look, guys, I don’t want a bunch of strangers here either, but we’ve got to do this or I’m not going to be able to keep the house.

We’ve got to figure out what the hell is going on.

Do you want a stranger living here? Because that’s what’s gonna end up happening.

They’re going to call this the Haunted B&B, and there’s just going to be one stranger after another, over and over and over again, coming through the house, and it’s going to be your fault because y’all are being assholes. I will not risk Abby.”

The deck of cards went sliding across the table, spreading out, and one fell on the floor.

“Not impressed. Look, I said what I said. Just act up today so we can get some cash.”

Hell, maybe with a little money, he could hire some high priestess to come salt and sage the hell out of this bitch. Then he could just have a normal house like everybody else on earth. He straightened up the deck of cards and picked up the one on the floor, glanced at it—the Lovers.

No.

Sebastian was pretty sure that there wasn’t any deep meaning in that one. He wasn’t in the mood or the space for a lover right now. Maybe in fifteen years.

Maybe.

Maybe when Abby was thirty. By then, he would be too old to fall for a big adventure guy, get pregnant, and get left behind.

Right?

He wandered a little, picking up the card, putting a dish away, waiting.

Finally—and on time if he was honest—a big SUV pulled up and parallel parked on the street in front of the house. A bunch of guys spilled out, two of them carrying black bags that were generally used to house electronics. One had a big still-photo camera around his neck.

Then the passenger door opened, and a big man stepped out, a walking cane in hand. A chill shot up Sebastian’s spine, because he knew that body, even if the limp was unfamiliar. The face under the bush hat was familiar, too.

Colton Maxwell.

Nope. Sebastian shook his head, locked the front door, and went to grab his phone.

Hank picked up on the first ring. “Now, Sebastian…”

“Don’t you ‘now, Sebastian’ me. You’re supposed to be my friend. How could you do this to me?” He was shaking he was so mad.

“The money offer is real.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the money. What the hell?”

Hank was quiet for a second. “The money offer is real. All you have to do is let them film. You don’t even have to stay past the first day.”

“I’m never going to forgive you for this. What the hell? You know that…don’t you care about Abby? Seriously.” What if? What if Colton was here to take her? Colton’s parents had paid him off big to walk away and not talk about Abby to anybody.

But he hadn’t cashed the check. It was still sitting in his desk drawer as a reminder that people were assholes, and that people with money were assholes who were convinced that they could be assholes.

Hank sighed softly. “Now, that’s not fair. You know, I love that little girl.”

“If you loved her, you wouldn’t have done this. I will never forgive you, not as long as I live. This was a shitty thing to do. Why would you do this to me?”

Somebody was knocking on the door, and he knew who that somebody was.

He shook his head. “You call him, and you tell him that I signed a contract under false pretenses, and I’m not letting anyone in.”

“You need to think about this.”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me what I need to think about. How awful. He walks out on me to go adventuring. I try to find him. I tell his family that I’m pregnant, and their responses? Here’s a check. Go away. Never, ever talk about it.”

Hank gasped, but Sebastian didn’t slow down.

“And then you send them here? You’re not a good person. Shame on you.”

The knocking on the door got louder.

“Sebastian, I didn’t know about the check?—”

“No. We’re not friends. Don’t call. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

He hung up the phone and then went to the door. He’d just tell them to leave himself.

He opened the door, ready to blast Colton right out of the water, but it was like an invasion.

“Hey, you must be Mr. Belle. I’m Iago, the production assistant.

I just need to see the layout of the house.

” He blew past Sebastian, right into his foyer, and then into his front room.

“Hey, this is super cool. Law, come get those establishing shots so we know where to set up the cameras. Sorry that Colton is taking forever, but he’s not as spry as he used to be, you know?

Cave-ins will do that. So, the bedrooms are upstairs? ”

Two more big guys stormed past him, the one with the camera, and the one with the black bag. They just ignored his, “But—” and went to work.

So he was still standing on the stoop when Colton limped up to him.

He didn’t know what to say. Colton was still beautiful. Colton was still hot, even with the scars. Colton was also still a fucker who’d had his parents pay him off.

“Sebastian.”

“I want you to take your toys and your crew and go.”

Colton studied him. “You and I both know you have plenty of ghost activity here. Also, there had to be a reason you allowed us to come film.”

“I was allowing a ghost show to come film. Not you.”

Those crazy violet-gray eyes, the ones Abby had inherited, narrowed. “We’re kind of synonymous.”

“No. The show is called Echoes or something.”

“You mean you’ve never watched it?”

“Why should I when I have the ghost show right here in my house?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Out.”

“We came a long way with a lot of gear, Sebastian.”

“And you had to know it was all under false pretenses.”

“Because you would never return my calls, so it must be my fault.”

“Yes. Yes, it is. Because you changed your phone number after you disappeared and never came back! I want you out!”

A tiny scrape sounded, and he turned to look inside, where the three big guys were just standing and staring at them.

“Technically, I’m not in,” Colton said, his voice calm.

“Please leave,” he said, trying hard to hold it together.

“We need to talk, Sebastian.”

“No! We don’t! Your parents made it very clear that you never wanted to talk to me again. So I don’t understand why you’re here.” His voice rose to a bit of a shriek.

“Uh, Boss…”

“Later, Iago.” Colton lifted a finger, then drew a circle in the air.

The three men left, nodding as they passed, the youngest one, Iago, smiling and giving him a thumbs-up.

“We need to talk, Sebastian.” When he just turned to go in and close the door, Colton put his cane tip in the gap to keep the door from closing. It had one of those rubber star tip things people used for hiking. “Please.”

“No.”

“Seb.”

“I said no!” He kicked the cane out of the door and slammed it, locking it after.

He turned and leaned back against the door, his breath heaving in his chest. Which was when shit started flying around his front room, the ghosts tossing all sorts of things off walls and shelves like he was standing in the middle of a tornado.

“STOP IT!” he screamed, and his door popped open, the entire crew rushing in with cameras and machines and Colton.

All Sebastian could do was run.