“Any activity you engage in that draws attention concerns me.”
“A man’s got to relax from long, stressful days out on the water. The Green Light provides an excellent service for the price.”
“I have no quarrel with that,” Seavey replied. “However, you’d do well to spread your largesse among a number of the soiled doves, rather than concentrate on just one. An established pattern raises attention and leaves you open to being blackmailed, should you find yourself with a loose tongue one evening, admitting more than is wise.”
Garrett crossed his arms. “The soiled dove I’m most fond of, however, exhibits such a fresh innocence that I find it quite satisfying to teach her the harsher realities she can expect to encounter in her profession. And she seems to have very little tolerance for pain, which I might find most useful in the future.” His eyes gleamed. “I understand you might even know of the chit, Seavey. She goes by the name of Charlotte.”
“I know of her,” Michael admitted softly. “Nevertheless, do not be so foolish as to think you could use her to gain any leverage with me. I’ve never lifted a hand to help a soiled dove, and I never will.”
Chapter 11
JORDAN came out of a deep sleep only hours later to the feeling of cold liquid running down her cheeks and onto the pillow. She heard loud hissing overlaid by Malachi’s anxious whine. Something rolled off the bed, thunking onto the area rug on the floor.
Someone had thrown her leftover tea in her face.
She reared up, swiping at the liquid. “What the—”
“Sshhhhh!” Someone whispered next to her ear.
Heart pounding, she leapt from bed and ran for the door. Malachi did his best to tangle his paws with her feet.
“Be quiet!” Hattie said, next to her. “He’ll hear you!”
Something zipped over Jordan’s head, and she heard Charlotte screech, “Call the fuzz, call the fuzz!”
Jordan skidded to a halt, grabbing Malachi’s collar and shushing him. “Who’s ‘he’?” she whispered blindly, shaking.
“Someone is in the library,” Hattie said quietly. “Frank wanted to get rid of him, but I said we should wake you first.”
“Nice outfit,” Frank remarked, his tone sardonic.
Jordan whispered to Malachi to stay, then snatched up her sweats to pull on over her tank top and underwear. She tiptoed over to the bedroom door, then stuck her head into the hall, listening.
After a moment, she heard it—screeching on wood, as if someone was opening drawers in the library desk. There was a distinct thump, then low swearing. Whoever it was, he had probably walked into the wing-back chair.
She eased back into the bedroom, moving away from the door.
“Do something,” Frank demanded. “Now is not the time to be cowardly.”
“Now isn’t the time to foolishly confront an intruder who might be armed, either,” she retorted, sotto voce. Charlotte was still flying about the room, screeching. “Get control of Charlotte before she knocks something over,” she told Hattie.
“I heard that,” Charlotte hissed. “The prior owner left a baseball bat in my room. Go get it and hit the thief over the head.”
“I am in agreement,” Frank said. “If you wait for the police to arrive, it will most certainly be too late.”
“I was dropped from the softball team in college because of my low batting average,” Jordan retorted. “I’m sticking with calling the fuzz.”
Moving silently to her nightstand, she picked up her cellphone and hit speed dial. When Darcy answered, she whispered, “There’s someone in the house.”
“Where?” Darcy said, sounding instantly more alert.
“In the library, I think.”
“I’m on my way,” she said, making rustling sounds in the background. “Jordan, do not go down there. Lock your bedroom door and wedge a chair under the doorknob, then get inside your closet and lock it. Wait there until I come get you.”
“But what about the ghosts? I can’t leave them to the mercy of whoever’s down there.”
“Yes, you can. They’re already dead—they can fend for themselves. Put Malachi in the closet with you, and don’t let him bark.” Jordan heard her car door slam. “Don’t hang up. I’m there in three minutes.”
Jordan crept over to the door to close it, heard shuffling, then heard the front door crash against something. “Is that you?” she breathed into the phone.
“No, I’m still a block away. Christ! You’re giving me a heart attack. Close the damn door and get in the closet!”
“He left,” Frank reported, floating back into the room.
Hattie zipped out into the hall, hovering for a second. “Yes, he’s gone,” she confirmed.
“Darcy, the ghosts say he’s left,” Jordan relayed in a normal tone. “Dammit!” She flipped on the hall light and stomped down the stairs, Malachi and the ghosts trailing behind her. “If he stole something valuable, it’s really going to piss me off.”
“Don’t go downstairs until I get there,” Darcy ordered. “I’m turning the corner.”
“Too late,” Jordan said. She walked through the front door, which had been left standing wide open, just as Darcy pulled up to the curb. She met Darcy on the porch.
“I goddamn hate civilians—you don’t take orders worth shit.” Darcy moved past her, gun drawn. “Stay out here while I check things out,” she ordered.
After a moment, she reappeared, holstering her gun. “The house is clear.”
“We already said that,” Charlotte pointed out, flying around Darcy’s head. “And you told her we said that. Doesn’t she listen?”
“Not real well,” Jordan replied.
“What?” Darcy asked, frowning.
“Never mind.”
“Since you willfully disobeyed my orders, did you at least catch a glimpse of the perp?”
“No.” Jordan went back inside, flipping light switches. She walked into the library, her jaw dropping. Books had been thrown about, lamps and chairs upended. Pictures pulled off the walls and dumped on the floor, their frames broken. Again.
She scrubbed her face and sighed. “I had just realphabetized those books.”
Malachi circled the room sniffing suspiciously and growling low in his throat, then sank down on the Aubusson rug, his expression watchful.
They heard footsteps on the front porch and Darcy whirled around, her gun raised. Jase came through the door, halting when he saw her weapon. His hair was mussed and his shirt unbuttoned, as if he’d hurriedly pulled his clothes on. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”
Darcy shook her head and holstered her gun. “Join the party.”
“We had an intruder, but he’s gone,” Jordan told him.
Jase looked around with a grim expression while Darcy carefully studied the room. “Anything missing?” she asked Jordan.
“I don’t think so.” Jordan walked over to set the wing-back chair upright. Again. “You know, this day seriously needs to be rewound. Two assaults and a burglary within twelve hours. That’s got to be some kind of Guinness world record.”
“Two assaults?” Jase queried. “I only know about one.”
“Long story,” Jordan muttered.
“Where’s that wall safe you were talking about earlier?” Darcy asked her. “Obviously, someone overheard our conversation in the pub.”
“What wall safe?” Jase asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Jordan told him. “Behind that bookcase. Since the bookcase is intact, they didn’t find the safe. Right, Hattie?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The ghosts are here with us?” Darcy asked.