Chapter 37
She turned her head carefully on the pillow. He looked different like this. Peaceful. The hard lines of his face softened, jaw relaxed, that constant vigilance finally gone. She studied the scar that cut through his eyebrow, another smaller one near his hairline. Evidence of a life spent in combat.
His arm tightened reflexively around her, pulling her closer even in sleep.
Rachel smiled and carefully extracted herself from his hold. He shifted but didn't wake, one arm sprawling across the space where she'd been. His hand curled into the pillow where her head had been, like he was reaching for her.
She found his T-shirt on the floor, the same gray one from yesterday, and pulled it on.
The fabric was soft against her skin, smelling like him and like her now too.
Then she padded quietly toward the kitchen.
The tile was cool under her bare feet. Morning light filled the house, reflecting off white walls and warm wood.
Through the windows she could hear birds calling to each other, the distant hum of a neighbor's lawnmower starting up.
She found the coffee maker and got it started, moving through his kitchen with more confidence than yesterday.
Mugs in the cabinet above the sink. Cream in the fridge.
She poured herself a cup and leaned against the counter, looking out at the bay through the windows.
The water was calm this morning, reflecting the pale blue sky like a mirror.
This was his sanctuary. The place he came when the world got too loud. And he'd brought her here without hesitation.
She heard movement behind her and turned.
Ghost appeared in the doorway, hair disheveled from sleep, wearing just the gray sweatpants he'd thrown on last night.
They hung low on his hips, the waistband sitting below the cut of muscle at his abdomen.
He looked at her, then at the coffee maker, and his expression changed.
Something warm and pleased crossed his face.
"You're up early," he said, voice thick with sleep.
"Couldn't sleep anymore." She held up her mug. "Hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." He crossed to her and pulled her against him, one hand sliding into her hair.
He kissed her, slow and thorough, tasting like sleep and warmth.
His other hand settled at her waist, thumb brushing along her hipbone.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers. "You okay? No more nightmares?"
"No more nightmares. Just... woke up."
"Good."
His hand found her hip, thumb brushing along the waistband of her underwear beneath his shirt. His eyes traveled over her slowly, taking in the way his shirt hung on her frame, the bare skin of her legs. "You look good in my kitchen."
Her face warmed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." His hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer. His voice dropped lower. "Look good in my shirt too."
She smiled and leaned into him, her free hand coming to rest on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, steady and strong. "I could get used to this."
"Good. Because I like having you here."
Rachel set her mug down on the counter and turned toward the cabinet. "Let me get you a cup."
She reached up for a mug, stretching on her toes. The shirt rode up slightly, exposing more of her thighs. She'd just closed her fingers around a mug when she felt him move behind her.
His arms came around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His hands splayed wide across her stomach, holding her there, then his mouth found her neck.
Rachel gasped, the mug nearly slipping from her fingers. She managed to set it on the counter as his lips moved against her skin. Soft. Deliberate. Trailing from just below her ear down to her shoulder.
"Logan," she breathed.
"Hmm?" His mouth didn't stop. His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through the thin fabric of his shirt.
She arched back into him, her head falling to the side to give him better access. One of her hands came up behind her, threading into his hair. "You haven't even had coffee yet."
"Don't care." His teeth scraped gently against her pulse point and she shivered. His hands moved higher, palming her breasts now, and she could feel him hardening against her lower back.
Rachel turned in his arms, her hands sliding up his bare chest to his shoulders. His skin was warm beneath her palms. "You're insatiable."
"Only with you." He captured her mouth with his, the kiss deeper this time, hungrier. His hands slid down to her hips, fingers digging in as he pulled her flush against him.
She felt every inch of him through the thin barrier of clothing, his chest against hers, his arousal pressing insistently against her stomach. Her hands roamed over his back, feeling the flex of muscle as he lifted her slightly, setting her on the edge of the counter.
He stepped between her thighs, his hands sliding up under the shirt to grip her bare waist. The kiss grew more demanding. Rachel wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, and felt him groan against her mouth.
His fingers traced higher, thumbs brushing against her ribs, moving toward her breasts. She arched into the touch, wanting more, needing,
Her phone buzzed on the counter beside her.
They both froze.
Rachel pulled back slightly, breathing hard. "That's my phone."
Ghost's lips hovered over hers, "Ignore it."
It buzzed again. Insistent.
Her stomach tightened as she picked it up. Another unknown number.
She gasped.
Ghost saw her face change. His hands gentled on her waist, concern replacing the heat in his eyes. "What is it?"
She opened the message.
It was a photo of her apartment, or what was left of it.
The door hung crooked on its hinges. Inside, everything was destroyed. Furniture overturned, cushions slashed, books and papers scattered everywhere. Her camera equipment, smashed. Her laptop, gone. Drawers pulled out and dumped. Every inch of the space torn apart.
Below the photo, a single line of text:
Unknown Number: WHERE ARE YOU, RACHEL?
For a second, fear flickered through her chest, then something else took over.
Anger. Hot and bright and consuming.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Rachel's voice came out sharp enough to cut.
Ghost's hands tightened on her waist. "What? Let me see."
She shoved the phone at him, her whole body rigid with fury. He took it from her hands, and she immediately pushed against his chest. He stepped back, giving her room, and she slid off the counter, her feet hitting the tile hard.
"They trashed my apartment. Again." She was already moving, pacing toward the windows and back. "They already did this once and didn't find anything, so what? They thought maybe they missed something the first time?"
Ghost took the phone, studying the photo. His jaw tightened.
"Well good luck with that!" Rachel was pacing now, her bare feet slapping against the tile. "There's nothing there! I took everything important with me. The drive was in my bra, for fuck's sake. You think I'd leave evidence just lying around after they tried to kill me the first time?"
A sound escaped Ghost. It took her a second to realize he was laughing.
She spun to face him, her eyes flashing. "What's funny?"
"You are." He was grinning now, eyes bright with amusement and something that looked a lot like pride. "You're pissed."
"Of course I'm pissed! They destroyed my home. My things. My cameras—" Her voice cracked slightly on that. Those cameras had been with her through war zones, protests, disaster sites. They were more than equipment. "And for what? To scare me? To make me panic?"
"Is it working?"
"No!" She threw her hands up. "It's making me want to burn their entire operation to the ground!"
Ghost set the phone down and crossed to her. He caught her by the waist, pulling her against him. She tried to push away, still too wired to be held, but he didn't let go.
"Easy, firecracker," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
"Don't patronize me."
"I'm not." He tilted her face up to look at him. "I'm just enjoying watching you go off. It's hot."
"Logan—"
"You're right. They won't find anything. And yeah, they're wasting their time tearing apart an empty apartment." His thumb brushed along her jaw. "But that's good for us. Means they're desperate. Means they're running out of options."
Rachel took a shaky breath, trying to calm down. "I just—I worked hard for those things. That apartment was mine. And they just—"
"I know." His expression sobered. "And we're going to make them pay for it. All of it. But right now, you being safe matters more than stuff."
She wanted to argue. Wanted to stay angry. But the way he was looking at her, concerned but also a little bit proud, took the edge off.
"I hate that they think they're winning," she said quietly.
"They're not." Ghost pulled her closer. "They're scared. And scared people make mistakes. Like sending you a photo that proves they're still wasting resources on the wrong location."
Rachel let out a long breath and leaned her forehead against his chest. "Okay. You're right."
"Say that again. I want to remember this moment."
She swatted his chest. "Ass."
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest against her cheek, and kissed the top of her head. "There she is."
She pulled back enough to look up at him. "You're really not worried about this?"
"About them destroying an empty apartment? No." His hand slid into her hair. "About keeping you safe? That's all I'm worried about. And you're here. With me. Where they can't find you."
Rachel nodded slowly. The anger was fading now, leaving her feeling drained.
"Come on," Ghost said. "Let's go for a drive. Get you out of here for a bit."
"Where?"
"You need clothes. Toiletries. Can't have you wearing my shirt for the next four days." He paused, his mouth curving. "Though I wouldn't mind."
Her face warmed. "I don't mind wearing your shirt."