Chapter 2 #2
As I hit the downstairs corridor, my attention was suddenly caught by the kitchen light flickering on and off. It was merely a flash, over in a split second, but nevertheless, it filled me with a sense of unease. I paused, peering down the hallway, waiting to see if it happened again.
Nothing.
Still, it was enough to give me a gut feeling, and I was a man who trusted his gut. It wouldn’t hurt to go and check the doors were locked, especially as we had civilians in tonight who could easily go for a wander and leave a door or window open without a thought.
I stalked through the dark corridor, my gaze skimming over my surroundings just like I’d been trained to do in the military.
It was something that had never left me, and I was glad for it, especially when I recalled how many fucked-up situations that care and attention had helped me out of over the years.
The clubhouse seemed darker tonight, more oppressive, but it was probably because it was Halloween, and I’d been scaring the bejesus out of the kids (and myself) not five minutes ago.
Something flickered in my peripheral vision, but it wasn’t a light that time, more like a shadow. It was gone as quickly as it came, and the gnawing feeling in my gut intensified. My steps faltered, and I stared toward the kitchen, every sense on red alert, waiting.
Silence.
I let out a quiet snort, shaking my head at how spooked I was.
“The fuck, Dagger?” I said quietly under my breath.
“It’s your clubhouse. Nothing's gonna happen here. Chill your tits.” I smiled, almost embarrassed by my jumpiness.
I’d survived being captured in Kuwait, gunfights, wars, and my three boys, so I could handle a shadow here and there.
Despite my cynicism, I started again for the kitchen just to check everything was okay.
I reached the threshold and went for the light switch on the wall.
I clicked it on and waited for the room to become bathed in light, then, without even thinking, I went to the fridge, opened the door, and grabbed a beer before heading for the drawer and grabbing a bottle opener.
I popped the top and took a swig, my eyes lifting when I caught my reflection in the window above the sink unit.
For a split second, the person staring back wasn’t me.
The shoulders were broader, and a cruel smile slashed across the intruder’s face, who I recognized as Bear.
My heart leaped into my throat, and I dropped my arm, slamming the beer bottle onto the counter and whirling around, ready to take his ass on, except all that was behind me was the refrigerator.
“Jesus,” I croaked, turning back to check the reflection again, but that time my face stared back at me. My golden eyes, my newly shaved head, and my salt-and-pepper beard.
I breathed deeply, trying to calm my racing heart.
Christ, I was too old for this shit. Telling the kids the story of Bear must have freaked me out more than I realized. Leaning against the counter, I closed my eyes, taking a moment to ground myself, then I drained my beer bottle and sauntered to the back door, checking it was locked.
Strains of laughter drifted through from the bar, reminding me that there was a big-assed party going on a few rooms away. I rolled my shoulders and headed toward the door, switching the light off behind me as I entered the corridor.
Something shifted. I didn’t see it, but I felt its presence.
The air cooled again, like a subtle change in pressure, popping inside my ears.
I pivoted to stare back inside the kitchen, but nothing was there.
I could feel it, though—the sensation of being watched was as tangible to me as a living, breathing person.
Turning back, I walked down the corridor, heading toward the sound of revelry coming from the party. As I walked back past the stairs, I automatically glanced up, listening for the kids, smiling as I imagined how scared shitless they’d probably gotten themselves.
That was when I felt the icy cold breeze at the back of my neck. It was so chilling that goose bumps trickled down my arms and every hair stood on end.
I twisted around, checking behind me, so sure somebody was looming that my hands balled into fists. But again, there was nothing there.
I felt the oppression of the air, though, layered and thick.
The sensation of being watched was so powerful that I almost couldn’t believe I was standing in the corridor alone.
I pushed the weirdness down, pretending it didn’t exist and that it was all in my head, even though I’d had a physical reaction.
Forcing a self-deprecating laugh, I headed for the bar.
The closer I got, the lighter the air felt around me, which made me feel like a fool.
I was as bad as the kids. Scaring myself on Halloween—how goddamned cliché could I get?
All that damned talk about Bear had obviously given me the creeps, but he was dead—we’d made sure of it—and he wasn’t coming back, Halloween or not.
The bad feeling in my gut dissipated, and with a rueful shake of my head, I decided I’d have a drink, say my goodbyes, and head home with my Leesy.
At least when I was with my woman, there were no ghosts to battle.
We’d banished them already.
Together.