Chapter 24 Geneva
GENEVA
BENEDETTO’S STIRRING SOMETHING ON THE STOVE, BUT I BARELY notice. I’m sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around my knees, staring at my phone like it’s going to ring.
It won’t.
Ghost isn’t going to check in. Not when he’s “working.”
The thought sends a chill through me, but it’s not fear. Not for myself anyway. It’s something else that’s dark and complicated and tangled up in the fact that I know exactly where he is right now.
Dealing with Marcus Telford.
A man who, by all accounts, deserves whatever Ghost plans to do to him. And that’s what bothers me most. Not the kidnapping itself, not the violence I know is coming, but the fact that I’m not upset about it.
I should be horrified that the man I’m involved with is currently torturing someone for information. But all I can think about is Ghost. Whether he’s safe. Whether he’s hurt. Whether he’s thinking about me while his hands are covered in blood.
Benedetto clinks the spoon against the edge of the pot, pulling me from my thoughts. He glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
I exhale slowly, pressing my fingers to my temples. “I feel like I should be more… disturbed.”
Benedetto turns fully, wiping his hands on a dishtowel before leaning against the counter. “Disturbed about what?”
I gesture vaguely. “All of it.”
He smirks. “Because your boyfriend is currently making a grown man shit himself?”
I wince. “He’s not my—” I stop myself, swallowing the argument before it fully forms. I don’t even know how to define whatever Ghost and I are.
Benedetto watches me, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You’re worried about him.”
“I don’t want him getting hurt.”
“He won’t.”
I lift my head, meeting Benedetto’s gaze. “You sound sure.”
He shrugs. “Because I am. He’s done worse and walked away just fine.”
I chew my lip, my stomach knotting. Benedetto watches me for a moment longer, then shakes his head and turns back to the stove.
“Enough brooding, Doc. You need to eat.”
I don’t argue, but I don’t move either. My stomach is a mess of anxiety, worry, and something that feels a lot like acceptance.
Benedetto plates whatever he’s been cooking and walks over, setting a bowl in front of me on the coffee table.
The scent of garlic and something rich and savory fills the air. I blink down at it.
He narrows his eyes. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re full of shit.” He gestures to the bowl. “You’re spiraling.”
I glare at him, but he just raises a brow, daring me to argue.
“Fine.” I pick up the spoon and take a slow bite. It’s good. Really good. “You’re awfully domestic for a criminal.”
Benedetto smirks, sitting in the chair across from me with his own bowl. “And you’re awfully calm about your man committing a felony.”
The food settles in my stomach, but the knot of unease doesn’t go away. Ghost has been gone for hours. I don’t know where he took Telford, or when he’s coming back.
Benedetto watches me as I push the last bit of food around my bowl, his sharp gaze cutting through my pretense of normalcy. He doesn’t say anything, just takes a slow sip of his whiskey, waiting.
I sigh and set the bowl down. “What?”
“Nothing. Just wondering how long you’re going to sit there pretending you’re not as fucked up as he is.”
“What the hel—”
“Save it, Doc.” He leans back in the chair, draping an arm over the backrest. “You’re not worried about what he’s doing to Telford. You’re worried that if something goes wrong, you won’t get the chance to admit that you like the way Ghost makes you feel.”
I glare at him. “You talk too much.”
Benedetto chuckles, completely unfazed. “And you think too much.”
“It’s called having a conscience.”
“Is that the thing you conveniently misplace every time Ghost touches you?” He lifts his glass in a mock toast before taking another sip. “You’re exhausting to watch, you know that?”
I scowl, arms crossed. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re staring at the door like you think you can manifest him.”
“Shut up.”
Benedetto laughs. “That’s the spirit.” He picks up the remote and starts scrolling. “Okay, Doc. You need a distraction. And I happen to have just the thing.”
I sit up slightly, intrigued despite myself. “Are you putting on a K-drama?”
“Damn right, I am.” He grins, clicking into the menu like he’s unveiling some great masterpiece. “And before you start whining, I know you love these ridiculous, overly dramatic, slow-burn nightmares.”
I don’t even try to deny it. “Which one?”
“Oh, only the best.” He clicks on something, and the intro starts rolling. “Betrayal, revenge, and secret identities. Plus, someone gets amnesia. Can’t beat it.”
My jaw drops. “The one where the guy falls for the girl, only to find out she’s actually the long-lost daughter of the assassin who killed his mother?”
“That’s the one,” he says. “And the cherry on top? They’re both secretly working undercover to kill each other.”
“Oh, my God.” I grab the blanket draped on the back of the couch and pull it over my lap. “Put it on right now.”
Benedetto smirks. “You’re not that hard to figure out.”
I glare at him, but my lips twitch. “I hate you.”
“You love me. Now shut up and get emotionally invested with me in fictional people’s misery.”
The hours pass in a blur of emotional turmoil, and none of it’s mine. It belongs to the tortured leads on the screen, the star-crossed lovers unknowingly plotting each other’s deaths while falling deeper into their inevitable, tragic love.
I gasp, grabbing Benedetto’s arm. “No, no, no. He can’t kill her! He just found out she’s the reason he didn’t die in that fire!”
He sips his whiskey. “Yeah, but she’s also the daughter of the guy who killed his mother, so…”
“That doesn’t matter anymore. She saved him. They love each other!”
He scoffs. “You think love makes people rational?”
I roll my eyes and toss a piece of popcorn at him. “You have no soul.”
The lock clicks. My head snaps up as the front door swings open, and Ghost steps inside.
His movements are fluid, controlled, but there’s a different energy about him.
A quiet violence clings to him like cologne, heady and alluring.
His baseball cap is pulled low, casting a shadow over his face, but his eyes lock onto mine instantly.
Relief hits me hard enough to make me grip the edge of the couch. He’s here. He’s okay.
Benedetto blows out a breath. “And here I was, thinking this was going to be a slumber party.”
Ghost doesn’t even acknowledge him. His gaze stays on me, unreadable and unrelenting. “Did you eat?”
The question is simple. Normal. And yet it shows how much he knows me and how much I’ve been worried for him.
I nod. “Yeah.”
Benedetto snorts. “Not without a fucking argument.”
Ghost finally shifts his attention toward him, arching a brow. “You want a medal?”
“Yes, actually. Preferably something shiny.” Benedetto pushes up from his seat, stretching his arms above his head before making his way toward the kitchen. “But since I doubt that’s happening, I’m taking another drink.”
“Ghost.”
At the sound of my voice, he moves toward me. Once he’s close enough, Ghost caresses my cheek, tracing the barest line of warmth against my skin. It’s just a touch. But it says everything.
He’s reassuring me that he’s fine.
I inhale slowly, my pulse still playing Ping-Pong as I force out the words. “Did you get what you needed?”
Ghost doesn’t answer right away. He sits next to me and grabs the glass of whiskey I abandoned and leans back. His knuckles are split, his forearms dusted with drying blood. He knocks back half the glass in one swallow, then finally meets my gaze.
“Yeah.”
“What did he tell you?” I ask.
Ghost sets the glass down, rolling it between his fingers. “Telford didn’t know the name of the person who hired him. But he was supposed to take you to a designated location and hand you off to a mercenary.” His eyes flick up, pinning me in place. “And I know exactly who.”
I force myself to keep breathing. “Who?”
He shakes his head. “Later.”
Benedetto, refilled whiskey in hand, flops onto the couch. “So, what’s the play? Long game or immediate bloodshed?”
Ghost exhales, slow and measured. “That depends.”
I frown. “On what?”
“On how useful he is to me before I put a bullet in his head.” Ghost looks at me like he’s trying to gauge my reaction. “He’s not just some hired gun. If I handle this the wrong way, it could tip off the person who hired him. And I’m not giving that motherfucker a chance to disappear.”
Benedetto hums, eyeing Ghost over his glass. “Well, if you need someone to hold him down, while you ‘chat’ with him, you know where to find me.”
I remain quiet since this situation is beyond me. Ghost won’t rush a decision like this. When he moves, it’s with precision and intent because he’s already mapped out every possible outcome in his head.
Ghost exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw. “Let’s go to bed, Doc. You need to rest.”
Benedetto scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Like she’s going to sleep after all of this excitement. Her life is a K-drama, for fuck’s sake.”
Annoyance flickers over Ghost’s face before he turns and disappears down the hall. Frowning in confusion, I don’t move. Neither does Benedetto.
He lets out a low whistle. “That man’s got murder on his mind.”
“Hopefully, it’s yours,” I say, teasing.
“Nah. If it was, I’d be dead already.”