Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
brETT
Jane Evangeline: Entry #12
I saw Maverick’s face.
I honestly can’t believe it, even as I’m writing.
He said it was an act of trust—that he believes in me and my mission to help him take down the Sanctum. Apparently, it goes against the most important rule of his code, but I kind of stopped listening after that because I was too mesmerized by his face. He is easily the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on—no, seriously, Hollywood really fucking missed out on this one.
I have butterflies right now just thinking about his million-watt smile. But I shouldn’t feel that way, not when I still have this nagging urge to jump Hudson’s bones.
Thinking about it now, I might just ask Hudson to remove his mask the next time I see him. After all, Maverick trusted me enough, and we’ve only met a few times.
It should be no problem for Hudson.
“How did he die?” I ask, running my fingers over the picture once more. They both seem so happy in this photo. To know what becomes of them… it’s terribly sad, that’s for damn sure.
For a long time, Ghost is silent. Then his shoulders tense, and he turns from the picture. “I don’t really like talking about Brenden,” he murmurs, moving toward the exit. He crooks his gloved fingers over his shoulder, gesturing for me to follow.
“Come, Brett.”
I frown. I’m not a fucking dog. But still, I’m curious as to what he was just thinking about. So when he disappears down the hall, I follow. I have to run to catch up with his long strides, and by the time he stops in front of the stone wall, I’m out of breath.
“Where… are we going?” I ask between heaving breaths, my hands planted on my knees to give me some relief. Fuck cardio, man.
Ghost tips his head with a chuckle, seeming to enjoy the fact I’m so out of shape. “Why don’t I show you?” He presses his wrist against the wall, and the stone slides open, revealing one of the most magnificent bathrooms I’ve ever laid eyes on.
The entire room is cast from floor to ceiling in huge slabs of dark, natural textured stone, and though the room is massive, the gentle orange glow of the light against the tiles gives it an incredibly cozy feel. My eyes scan the bathroom, and I’m halfway through admiring the rainforest spout in the walk-in shower when I catch sight of the bathtub.
It is easily one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and my muscles ache with the need to climb inside. The massive sinking tub is made entirely of shimmering black porcelain, which dances in the light with every slight shift on my eyes. Intricately carved bronze legs hold the tub in the air, matching the small golden handles hanging at various places around the rim. I trace my fingers over the golden loops, trying to figure out what they would be for. There's no way someone could lift this tub, and if they tried, the thin handles would surely snap off.
I jerk when Ghost’s hand touches my waist, a burst of guilt overcoming me when he shuffles away, his head bent low.
“Do you like it?” He asks, gesturing to the heavenly tub. I nod eagerly, ready to ask him if I could use it when he says, “You’ve had a rough two days. I figured you might like to take a bath.”
Score!
“I will help you.”
Wait—what the fuck?
“I beg your most exquisite pardon?” I ask, taking an involuntary step back when his face whips toward me. “You absolutely will not be doing that.”
Ghost stalks closer, each of his steps matching mine until my back is pressed against the stone wall. He places his hand to the right of my head, leaning that mask in until it brushes my nose. I stare into that black, soulless oval, feeling like I’m about to fall in.
“Why not?”
My brain swims, and I desperately try to recall what we were talking about. “I… because!”
“Because why?”
“Dear Lord, because you can’t . Society frowns on letting random strangers help you shower—especially ones who kill people. Oh, and let’s not forget about the kidnapping situation.” Ghost tilts his head, seeming to process my words before taking a step back, and I can finally breathe. “Thank you,” I murmur, holding a hand to my pounding heart. I look around the bathroom, realizing I have no idea where any of the soap or towels are. “Um… I hate to ask this since I was kind of a bitch to you a minute ago, but… where do you keep your towels?”
To my surprise, a chuckle shakes Ghost's chest. “I will get you everything you need.” He’s halfway across the room before he stops, turning his head over his shoulder. “Before you say it—I realize you are capable of doing it. But it would make me… happy to do this for you.”
His words make my head spin, and there’s nothing I can do except nod as he glides around the room, pulling various bottles and tinctures from the mahogany cabinets. While he’s busy, I step over to the tub, a small smile pulling at my lips as I turn the hot water on. I hold my hand under the water, adjusting the cold and hot knobs a few times to get the temperature just right.
When I look up, I’m surprised to see Ghost staring at me—or rather, where my hand is resting under the water.
“Everything okay?” I ask, chills going down my spine at the eerie stillness he can maintain.
He nods, shaking out of his trance before gliding over to me. He places at least eight different bottles on a small table at the side of the tub, and to my surprise, they’re the same brands as the one I use at home.
What a coincidence—oh. I frown, palming the same bottle of ginger and vanilla conditioner I have in my apartment. I pop open the cap and bring it to my nose, a wave of relaxation taking over me as I breathe in the familiar scent.
It’s kind of sweet that he did this, actually. It shows that he was thinking about me, taking notes of the things that I like.
Yeah, because he’s a manipulative killer. Focus, woman.
I shake my head, turning to give Ghost a meek smile as my anxiety peaks. “Thank you for this.” I shake the bottle for good measure, hoping he can’t see the terror hiding in my eyes. “You got the extra shine and gloss version, too. My favorite.”
Ghost nods, pulling a towel from the cabinet and placing it on the floor beside the tub. “No little detail will slip past me when it comes to you, Brett. I have memorized the smallest twitch your lips make in your sleep, so knowing your favorite conditioner is hardly impressive.”
Yet it’s pretty damn impressive to me. Or highly disturbing—I still haven’t figured out how to feel about it yet.
When Ghost turns and steps out of the bathroom, I decide I don’t want to think about it. After stripping out of my clothes, I place one leg into the tub, leaning my head back with a moan as the warm water laps at my tired muscles. I sink down to my neck in the tub, resting my eyes for a moment and letting the heat work its way through the knots in my back.
This—this is heaven.
I spend far too long in the tub, scrubbing and soaking until my palms are pruned. It’s a difficult decision to hop out, but by this point, the water is barely lukewarm, and soon it will start to be unpleasant anyway. I sigh, stepping onto the tile and wrapping the plush white towel around my chest.
The moment it is secured, Ghost bursts through the door, his gloved hand clenched tightly around the doorknob. His head shifts as he takes in my dripping form, his shoulders shaking slightly from some unknown emotion.
“I… have prepared the bed for you.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I tilt my head, reaching up to wring out my hair into the back. The side of my neck is exposed with the motion, and I watch Ghost’s throat bob in a thick gulp.
“How was your bath?”
I sigh happily, my lips tipping up with a teasing smile. “Practically orgasmic.”
This is apparently the wrong thing to say because as soon as the last syllable passes my lips, Ghost is in front of me, his gloved hands wrapped around my shoulders. His chest is heaving, and when I glance down, I can’t help but notice the sizable tent in his pants.
“Ghost? What are you—Ah!” A squeal echoes off the walls as Ghost slings me over his shoulder. My head nearly smacks into his lower back, and I have to use my hands to prop myself up, my face heating with mortification as a gust of air hits my bare pussy.
“Put me down!” I demand, thumping my fist against his back. Ghost doesn’t react, moving us silently into the bedroom. He places me gently on the mattress, and my hands move to grab the towel around my chest before it falls off.
“What the fuck was that for?”
Ghost has the nerve to shrug. I’m about to demand answers when he crouches between my spread legs, putting his mask within inches of my core. My face heats as he takes a deep breath. I would pull away, but the sight of his trembling body has me frozen in place.
“Fuck, Brett. I—” With a growl, he pushes away from me, straightening with what seems to be an incredible amount of effort. “I can’t seem to help myself around you.”
That seems a bit of an understatement.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, surprised at how his words cause warmth to spread through my body. To distract myself from the traitorous feelings, I look around the room, scanning my surroundings like I’ve been taught.
“This is your bedroom?” I ask, noting the various weapons and screens lining the walls. It looks a lot like the computer room, although these screens are all turned off. I’m currently sitting on a bed so large it could eat a king-sized one, with the most intricately carved wooden headboard I’ve ever laid eyes on. Several large dressers line the walls, and my curiosity demands to know what’s in the locked drawers at the top of the golden one closest to the bed.
What secrets are you hiding in there, Phantom?
“Do you like it?” Ghost asks, gesturing to the grand room. I have to admit—it is beautiful, especially during the day with the sun streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall.
“It’s… stunning,” I murmur, hanging my head. “Why do you keep asking if I like it?”
“Your comfort is the utmost priority to me. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”
I twist my fingers in my lap, feeling the weight of his stare on my face. “Right. Well—” I cut off as the mattress dips, and I jerk my head up to see Ghost crawling in next to me.
“Um, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Keeping you safe,” Ghost says, not missing a beat as he pulls me into his chest. “I will stay up and keep watch.”
“Can’t you do that—I don’t know—from the couch or something?” I see a leather armchair in the corner, and it looks comfy enough.
Ghost shakes his head against me. “No. I prefer to be close like this.”
“Of course you do.” I sigh, allowing my muscles to relax despite the leather gloves gripping my waist. His touch causes a swarm of butterflies to take flight in my belly, sending pulse waves of electricity to the tips of my fingers and toes. I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to convince myself that it’s not real—that I’m dreaming or in a coma, and this is nothing more than some fucked-up, drug-induced hallucination.
Anything would be better than the alternative—that I truly do have a crush on Ghost. But no, that would be crazy. Like playing Russian roulette with an AK-47 crazy.
And I am not crazy.
However, as my eyelids become heavy and I start to drift, it occurs to me how comfortable I am tucked under his chin like this. It feels right— like this murderous villain is the piece I’ve been missing my whole life.
Maybe I’m a little more fucked up than I realized.