I blinked up at him, the water splashing droplets all over my face. “You know I was teasing about the harem thing earlier.”

“I know you were. But Corb doesn’t. And his kind are more than able to share.” He bent his head and kissed me again, lazy, deep, and the fire rekindled between us, hotter even than before, and once more he was pushing me against the wall. I hooked a leg over his hip, welcoming him to come just that last little bit closer.

I think he might have taken me right there, his body was poised to do just that, and I wiggled to get my legs around his hips, to draw him in. I could have made my decision right there and been happy as a pig in shit for the rest of however long I had Crash.

But, of course, that’s when someone just had to knock from the bedroom.

“Breena, I know you’re in there.”

My ex-husband was at the fricking door.

13

For those who skipped the rest of the last chapter, here’s the recap: Crash and I were getting busy, and we were about to seal the deal when someone knocked on the door.

Anyone would have been upset by that kind of interruption.

But did it really have to be my ex-husband banging on the door? Yelling at me to get my fat ass out of there?

“Who the hell let you in?” I yelled back as I slid down Crash’s body, feeling every inch of him as I went. I whimpered at the loss of what that moment had almost been. He flicked off the shower, bent, and kissed me on the cheek.

“Rain check.”

Rain check indeed. I swatted his ass as he stepped out ahead of me.

Alan banged on the door again. “I have a key. Get out here. What did you say to Corb? I caught him snooping around my place!”

Now, part of me was impressed, because the last time Alan had been here, he’d been stealing my gran’s spell book and the talisman that I wore around my neck. I’d caught him and threatened to make his twig and berries shrivel up and fall off if he ever came back. Not to mention he’d peed himself because Eric had literally scared the piss out of him.

Yet here he was, being a pain in my ass again. That was dedication, I’d give him that. He banged on the door, rattling it hard. “What the hell? Why am I even here? I don’t want to be here!” he yelled.

I blinked and looked at Crash. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

Crash tossed me a towel and wrapped one around his waist. I bundled up and opened the door to see Alan pacing my bedroom, grabbing at his mostly bald head. He wore the same outfit he’d worn to the auction the week before, and he had his hat in his hand. My mouth dropped open. Because . . . well, not because he was there, which was bad enough.

But because he was a damn ghost. “Alan.”

“You did this to me, didn’t you?” He spun and pointed an accusatory finger at me, but my gaze was fixed on the gaping wounds in his neck, like an animal had chewed on him and torn his throat out. I put a hand to my mouth. Blood dripped down Alan’s body, and while it didn’t leave a mark on the floor, I kept glancing at the floor, waiting for it to happen.

“He doesn’t know.” Crash stepped up beside me. “I can only see him a little, but I can tell he doesn’t know.”

Alan pointed a finger at Crash. “Who the hell is this? Are you seriously banging a freak like that?”

I gave my head a little shake as I tried to catch up with this sudden and shocking reality. But a distant part of me wondered what Alan saw in Crash. What did he mean about him being a freak?

But that seemed like a minor question in light of the fact that Alan was in my room, dead. Hating Alan as I did, I didn’t feel terrible about the fact that he’d died, let alone in an obviously shitty way. But it was a problem that he was here. My gran usually didn’t let other ghosts intrude on her territory. “Gran, can you help me out?”

Oh, she’d get a kick out of seeing Crash in nothing but a towel. Almost as if he knew he was in for teasing and a tongue lashing, Crash stepped back into the bathroom. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“You do that,” Alan snapped. “This is ridiculous, you shouldn’t lower yourself to—”

“Shut your piehole.” I snapped my fingers at Alan and his mouth clamped shut, to both of our surprises.

I strode to my dresser and yanked clean clothes out while I waited for Gran to make her appearance.

Alan stalked in front of me, hands waving, mouth not moving, blood everywhere. I mean, not real blood, but still. “Alan. Go stand over by the window and don’t move,” I growled.

He backed up quickly, anger flashing on every part of his face. It was strange to think that at one point I’d loved this man enough to give up my gran, to give up my life here in Savannah. I shook my head. “I was a fool.”

Crash stepped out of the bathroom, jeans on, but the way his eyes heated as he looked over my chest, still topless, told me he’d prefer to have them off. “Do you want me to stay here, while you . . . interview him?”

Alan couldn’t seem to take it anymore. “Interview me? Interview me? What the hell is going on?”

That was a question I wanted answered too. I pulled on my bra and shirt and buttoned my jeans, amazed at how loose they were in the waist and thighs. I’d been so busy the last few weeks, I hadn’t bothered to put on anything but the special leathers Gerry had made for me. Leathers that magically adjusted to my body as my musculature and weight changed.

“Alan, what happened to you?” I turned to face him, motioning for Crash to stay with me.

Alan huffed for a minute. “Well, I was at my rental place working on the computer.” I think he blushed, although it was a little harder to tell with a ghost.

“You mean you were looking at porn,” I drawled. “I caught you more than once, you nincompoop. So you were playing around with yourself and your fake girlfriends. And then what?”

He glared at me. “I do not look at porn. I don’t need it. I have plenty of women who want me.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. What was it about the ceilings in this house that just begged me to stare at them when I couldn’t find the right words? “Look, you were on the computer, and then what?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and there was nothing more pitiful than those three words. “I woke up and everyone acted like they couldn’t see me, including Corb, so I . . . well, I didn’t choose to come here. But I figured you put a spell on me, like you threatened. Because I was just here, and now I can’t leave!”

I shook my head. “No spell, Alan. Can you see yourself in the mirror over the dresser there?” I pointed at the piece of furniture. Alan stayed put.

“I don’t want to see myself.”

“Because?” I wasn’t sure how this was going to go, counseling my now-dead ex-husband into realizing that he was indeed dead.

Crash sighed. “He can’t see through the glamor I put on to keep people at bay. People, not spirits. Which means he hasn’t accepted his current situation. Until he does, he’s going to be stuck here.”

I looked over my shoulder at Crash, thinking if I just squinted my eyes, I’d see what it was he made others see, then decided not to. I liked him as he really was. “Can’t I just tell him?”

“No good. He’ll only hear what he wants to,” he said quietly. “And because you and I can see him, what do you want to bet that he’s not leaving anytime soon?”

I bowed my head and covered my eyes as I started to laugh. The hysterical, this can’t be happening to me kind of laughter. It took me a minute to pull myself together. “Okay, okay. Alan, you can stay here until we figure this out.”

He crunched in on himself, hunching his shoulders. “I don’t want to see you with anyone else.”

“Tough shit, I’m dating three men right now,” I snapped, wanting desperately to bring Alan back to life, just so I could kill him myself.

“Three?” Crash gave me a look, and I winked at him.

“Robert counts, doesn’t he?”

Crash rolled his eyes, but there was humor in it. “Right, for some reason I always forget Robert.”

As if on cue, Robert scuttled up the stairs, swaying and bobbing with each step. “Friend.”

Alan peered around me to look at Robert. “What is that?”

“Who,” I corrected him. “That’s Robert. Don’t piss him off, he bites.”

Robert stepped closer and tapped a skeletal finger on the yellow envelope that held all the information on Gran and my parents. Damn it. “I’ll get to it, Robert, I promise.”

“I’ll just stay here,” Alan said, slumping down to sit under the window, the gaping wound in his neck almost not noticeable. You could believe he was alive if you didn’t know better.

“Don’t leave my room.” I turned my back on him and left. “Gran, I could seriously use some help here!” I shouted into the house only to get a flicker of her form across from me, in front of her room. There and gone.

“He can stay for now,” she called out. “But tell him to stay in your room. I don’t like him.”

“Nobody likes him,” I muttered, then shouted, “Don’t come out of my room, Alan!”

I headed down the stairs, the envelope under my arm, and my bag bouncing on my hip. I opened it and stuffed the envelope inside, then checked to make sure I still had both knives, Gran’s spell book, and Grimm’s stuff.

Speaking of . . . I needed a place to stash Grimm’s stuff, so it wasn’t on me in case I got taken by the goblins. Because yes, despite the fact that obviously this job was far more dangerous than I had originally thought, I intended to see it through. But I also needed a hiding place that was not in the house.

A place where no one would ever think to look.

“You know, this is all happening because of the O’Seans and Hattie.” Crash pulled me from my thoughts as we went through the kitchen to the back door of the house. He held it open for me and I stepped into the bright sunshine of a Savannah day. The smells of growing things and pollen were heavy on the air, and I was glad I didn’t suffer from hay fever.