Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GHOST
The Code: Rule #4
If a Mask is captured, they must self-terminate using their allotted cyanide capsule.
Jim Peterson is not a good man. Jim Peterson is a very, very bad man—and he has his disgusting sausage fingers all over my darling Brett.
My hand tightens at my side as I glare at the pepper-haired man with his face inches from hers. I could kill him now. In the commotion, they probably wouldn’t realize it was me.
Although, this mask is pretty fucking recognizable.
I take a deep breath, forcing my gaze away from the object of my obsession and toward the corner where her colleagues Samuel Danvers and Harvey Hawking whisper. Neither of them was going to win any beauty contests, but the fluorescent lights in the basement certainly aren’t helping matters.
I’m sure they’re talking about what a great job they did earlier. Catching the Phantom was easy for them—too easy, and they’re too stupid to realize it. I scoff, my head jerking back to where Brett lies when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
She’s awake.
“Brett! Brett, are you okay?” Jim whines, a drop of spittle flying from his lip and landing on her brow. That motherfucker. I’m going to kill him just for that.
“Jim?” Her eyes crack open, and for the briefest moment, her beautiful pink lips tip in a smile.
I think my heart just burst.
That is, until I realize I’m not the object of her smile. It’s not fair. I glare through the eye slits at the back of Peterson's head, wishing I had the power to pop it open like a nasty cyst. He deserves so much worse, but I will deal with it if it means I get to watch him die horrifically.
“Brett, you won’t believe what happened!” He tries to keep his voice low, but the idiot doesn’t know how to whisper for shit. And if he did, the amplifiers in my mask would do the trick.
“What—what happened?” she slurs, her eyes scanning the room lazily. “What happened to me?”
“You were…” Jim looks away, his throat bobbing heavily. “Oh God, Brett, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how it happened.” He hangs his head, not able to look her in the eye. “You were… you were drugged.”
“I was what? ” she demands, her mouth pulling down into a deadly scowl. “How?”
Jim gestures to the shattered champagne flute on the ground. “Probably your drink. We’ll find the bastard, though, Brett. I promise we’ll find the sick fuck who spiked your drink.”
Brett seems confused by this statement. “What are you talking about? It was the Phantom. He drugged me, and then he—” She stops herself, those ocean eyes jerking around the room erratically. “He’s still here , Jim. I can feel it.”
Jim looks to the side, making eyes at the EMT crouched at Brett’s head. “Brett… we caught the Phantom.”
“W–what? When?” she demands, shoving his hands from her and attempting to stand.
Jim grabs her forearm, refusing to let her shake him off this time. “Brett, calm down. We caught him about an hour ago—right after you disappeared. When I couldn’t find you, for a second, I thought…” His throat bobs, and he shakes off whatever thought ran through his head. “We’ve been looking for you for half an hour. Finally, some guy named Mike mentioned he saw you stumbling off toward the basement. That’s where we found you…”
Jim’s face is pinched in concern for the delicate little thing. It’s written all over him—in his eyes and in the way his fingertips barely hold her in place. Only Brett Evangeline is anything but delicate. And I’m the only one who seems to know it.
“That’s impossible,” Brett stutters, her mouth hanging wide open. “The Phantom was down here with me! He was the one who drugged me!”
“Brett…” Jim hesitates. “Brett, that’s impossible. We arrested the Phantom while you were down here.”
“Maybe he came back up after I passed out! Maybe?—”
Jim shakes his head, causing my words to die in my throat. “It wasn’t him, Brett. The real Phantom is sitting in an interrogation room as we speak.”
“But it can’t be! You have it all wrong!” By now, her shouting has called the attention of several other crowd members. “He was here! I know he was! You’ve made a mistake!”
“ Brett,” Jim balks, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. I have to stop from ending his life here and now. Soon. Soon, darling.
“Pull it the fuck together, Evangeline. You are a federal agent. This kind of behavior is unacceptable.”
She shakes her head, her throat bobbing. “You’re wrong, Jim. You’re wrong. ”
“You were drugged, Brett,” he whispers, his eyes shooting off to the side nervously. “You don’t know what you saw, what you heard. How the hell are you so sure it was him, anyway?”
She pins him with a hard stare. “I just know.”
Jim laughs humorously. “Oh, you just know? That’s great, Brett. Fantastic,” he sneers, pressing off his heels to stand. “Only the reality is that you don’t know what you saw. We have the real Phantom in custody right now. I thought you would be happy about that.”
“It’s not him , Jim. If you would let me explain?—”
“STOP IT!” he shouts, his face curling in a horribly menacing way. “Just—just fucking stop,” he breathes, his chest heaving. “Leave it alone, Brett. We caught him. We won.”
She scoffs, pushing to her feet like him and raises her chin, sending that glare full force at her partner. “You’re wrong, Jim. And I’m going to prove it.” Before he can get another word in, she turns on her heel and stomps toward the stairs, not giving him the satisfaction of a look back.
I grin as I watch her ascend, that tightness growing in my lower abdomen as I get a flash of her perfect round ass. What I wouldn’t give to be inside her… My attention shifts as I notice the rest of the curious partygoers beginning to file up the stairs after Brett. I follow suit, keeping my head dipped low like so many other staff members.
Soon. Very soon—I have no doubt about it.