appearances. Wow was right. Belle’s grandma had clearly had some gorgeous girlfriends. Every single woman in the photo was stunning.
“See? Maybe we can’t find a motive because none of those people left Belle the warning on the wall.” Tate looked more animated than he had in days, surprising Kell.
“You’re back to the ghost theory?”
“Hear me out. So a few owners before Marie Wright bought this place, a man named Fredrick Peterman lived here with his two daughters. Peterman was rich, and the rumor around town was he was involved in the local voodoo scene.”
Kellan shook his head. When was he going to wake up? Obviously, he was having a really weird dream. Logical, rational Tate believing in ghosts and now this? “Voodoo? Seriously?”
Eric shrugged. “Hey, it’s not a game down here. These are hard-core believers.”
And his friends weren’t going to shut up until he heard them out. “All right so Peterman was into voodoo before he died?”
Tate shook his head, an amused light in his eyes. “At one point, yes. The word is, he ran afoul of the local voodoo priestess. According to local legends, the Peterman family had been in New Orleans for years and made their money in shipping, but the times changed and so did their fortunes. One Madame Charitte went to the local police and claimed that Peterman had come to her and asked her to summon the devil to make a deal with him to restore their fortunes. She refused to be involved in dark magic. The cops claimed she was a kook and ignored her. Of course, Peterman was a long-standing donor to their charities, if you know what I mean.”
Kellan didn’t like where this was heading. “So Peterman had the police in his back pocket. Got it. But do you really think the man would try to call the devil? That sounds insane.”
“According to Madame Charitte, Peterman had brought her a detailed spell to work that involved a very nasty sacrifice,” Tate explained.
“He had daughters, two of them,” Eric reminded. “Both supposedly hung themselves.”
Kell gaped. “Like the girls in Belle’s nightmares.” She’d finally confessed this morning that she’d been having terrible dreams since she’d first moved in about two girls being hanged to death. But… “You can’t think for a minute that the man sacrificed his own daughters to the dark side and got away with calling it suicide.”
“This was back in the fifties. Peterman was considered an upstanding citizen. In the wealthy community, there was an outpouring of sympathy when both of his daughters committed suicide.” Tate pointed to the headlines. “So tragic, right? All evidence of ritual sacrifice was covered up. Although, if he managed to make a deal with the devil, ol’ Lucifer didn’t keep up his end of the bargain. The business went belly-up within a year, and Peterman shot himself in the library. Police reports suggest his body was discovered roughly where Belle said she saw the shadow person.”
“Come on, Tate. Don’t get distracted by this. It’s a great campfire story, but totally illogical. There’s something else going on here.” He turned to his other friend. “Give me something real, Eric. Has Sequoia run all the searches we asked for?”
Eric chuckled. “Yes, but he says it’s bad karma to invade someone’s privacy. So here’s the rundown. The plumber is clean. Captain Ron had a couple of parking tickets and was cited for public intoxication years ago, but that’s all. The landscaper got sued for stepping on someone’s prized hydrangea. But Mike, our friendly neighborhood asswipe, has a little more on his record.”
Something akin to joy lit Kellan up inside. He really hated that asshole. “Please tell me he killed someone or something juicy we can use against him to keep him far from Belle.”
“Sorry. He was convicted of bribing a city official to turn the other way on code violations for a wealthy client. He did six months, but it looks like he had a lot of trouble in jail. While there, he had multiple trips to the infirmary because the dude got his ass handed to him. Other than that he’s sadly clean. No violent offenses. I don’t think we can bury him or that Belle will kick his ass out. He’s doing all the follow-up work under the original contract so it’s not costing any extra money.”
Tate glanced through the folder. “It looks like Grandma’s lawyer has some unsavory connections.”
Kellan snorted. He didn’t know a lawyer who didn’t. “Well, we can ban him from the house. I think he’s got a meeting with Belle this afternoon, but it’s just to pick up the final inventory list since we all pitched in to finish that. I found the insurance paperwork so he should be satisfied. He won’t need to come here again. From now on, we’ll take meetings at his office.”
And that was about all he could do. Frustration welled. Who the hell had left the note on her wall that day? True, the warnings seemed to have stopped, but Kellan didn’t like unanswered questions. They tended to come back to bite him in the ass.
He didn’t care how quiet this person had gotten. The situation could be dangerous and whoever the hell masterminded it was human, not some shadow person or ghost.
“So have we looked into Helena?” Eric asked.
“Who is that?” Kell snapped.
“The psychic.” Tate acted as if he should know. “Mike, the perverted electrician, recommended her to Belle. I’d call another psychic if I knew one, but I don’t. This one seemed all right.”
Oh, fuck. Could his day get more surreal? “We have a psychic now?”
Tate waved them both off. “Yeah, she’s a psychic medium, dude. She does house cleansings. I talked to her this morning and, lucky for us, she’s free this evening.”
“Yeah, lucky, man. I’m shocked she doesn’t have a full schedule of house cleansings. Uhm, you do know that grifters tend to make room on their schedule for naïve idiots, right? It’s kind of how they make their living.”
Tate rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if any of this is real or not. I only know what my instincts tell me and I’ve decided to start listening to them. This will very likely make Belle feel better about living here. Helena asked us to clear the house of as many people as possible or it interferes with her reading.”
“Whatever. So you’re really not even going to try to get Belle back to Chicago?” Kellan asked with dread in his gut.
“Nah, I like it here. I’ve gotten used to beignets,” Tate explained, reaching across the desk for a file. “I know I said I wanted to go home, but home is where Belle is.”
He knew it made him a sick bastard, but he went a little nauseous at how settled Tate seemed. He was a fucker because he should be happy for his friends, but all he could think about was his own despair. If Tate and Eric really settled down with Belle, where would that leave him? Would he ever be truly content to be their “roommate”? Would he be the creepy dude who lived in their house and showed up for sex, only to slink off to a lonely bed afterward? No, she’d shut him out quickly. At the end of the day, Belle was a woman who had sex because she felt something for her partners. Getting off wouldn’t be good enough for her for long.
He forced himself to smile. He was not going to ruin their happiness. “That’s great. Have you thought about the firm? You can’t run it from here forever.”
The lamp on the desk tilted as Tate knocked it over. It began a long fall to the floor before Eric threw himself across the room and managed to catch it. There was a collective sigh of relief. Belle took those damn antiques seriously.
“That was close.” Eric managed to sit up and glared at Tate. “Dude. Bull. China shop. Watch what you’re doing.”
Tate flushed sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s crowded in here. We need to find office space.”
Eric set the lamp on the floor and got to his feet. “Yeah, we do. As to your question, Kellan, we have a proposition for you.”
His stomach took another nose dive. He’d been afraid they would do this. “You want me to buy you out?”
Eric reached down and brought the lamp back up to its original position. “Yeah, but not all at once. Obviously we’re not going to pressure you for capit
al. I’m going to make a list of lawyers I think you would work well with. You’ll still need partners. Unless you change your mind and decide to stay here with us. Come on, man. Southern gentlemen lawyers? We can get our mint juleps on.”
He ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t do this now. He thought he would have so much more time.
“Hey, what the hell is that?” Eric stared down at the lamp.
“Uh, it’s a lamp. You turn it on and it provides the room with illumination and aides the human eye in seeing things,” Tate said with a big “duh” in his voice.
Eric threw him his happy middle finger. “Fucker. I’m talking about this thing inside the shade.”
He walked across the room, leaping at the chance to do anything but answer the question Eric had posed. “There’s something in the lamp?”
Eric pointed to the inside of the shade. He unscrewed it, lifted it off the lamp, and handed it to Kellan.
Peering inside the lampshade, he saw a small round device. Holy shit. He knew what that was. A bug. He’d seen his father’s private investigators use them many times before when attempting to get dirt on rival politicians. He put a hand to his lips and bade Tate to look inside, too.
Tate stared for a moment, then stood. He pointed toward the back of the house. Kellan followed him, making his way to the kitchen and out to the back porch. After the door was closed, Tate and Eric both turned to him.
“That’s a fucking bug, isn’t it?” Eric asked.
“I think so. It looks like the type my father used to listen in on his adversaries. Or his mistresses. He didn’t mind cheating on my mother, but he demanded he was the only customer when he was paying.” Someone was listening to them.
Tate held a hand up. “I think Kellan’s right. That technology has got to be ten or fifteen years old, and it looked like it had been there for a while. I would bet it’s been there at least a couple of years.”
“Who would be listening in on Belle’s grandmother?” Kellan asked. A couple of ideas hit him at once. “We need to learn more about her life. Who did she associate with? What business did she sell off? Did she have any enemies? She couldn’t have been just a psychic. Haunted house or not, there’s no way a street psychic could afford this place. She had something else going on. Whatever it was, someone was interested enough to bug her place. Check with your fed contacts. I want to know if there was any reason for the feds to be investigating her.”
Tate huffed a little. “That would explain the crappy technology. I’ll sweep the house and find out if there are any other bugs. I suspect so. What do we tell Belle?”
She was worried enough as it was. He didn’t want to put more stress on her shoulders. “How do we tell her we think her grandma might have been involved in something criminal?”
“Maybe it wasn’t criminal,” Eric said.
Eric was being naïve. “Something went on in this house, and you know damn well it’s not about ghosts. Spirits from the beyond didn’t plant that device. A person did, obviously a while back. But someone wanted to keep tabs on Marie Wright. If that bug belongs to the feds, then she was involved in something nasty. If it doesn’t, then it’s very likely she was still involved in something nasty. Completely innocent people don’t normally have bugs in their houses. I don’t want to tell Belle anything until we at least know what Grandma was involved in.”
“Belle doesn’t have much family.” Tate looked back toward the door. “She’s been reading her grandmother’s journal. I think she’s really starting to admire the woman. I would hate to crush that. Kellan’s right. I’ll see what I can find out before we say anything.”
“What are you going to tell her when you walk through the house looking for bugs?” Eric asked.
“That I bought a ghost hunting kit and I’m looking for evidence,” Tate shot back. “Which is kind of true. I’m looking for spooks.”
The door creaked as it opened. They turned to see Sir running by as Belle let him out of the house. She smiled a little. “If you need fresh air, you could always open a window.”
That restless feeling was back. The minute she walked into a room, he felt antsy, anxious. There was so much he wanted from her and so much he didn’t deserve. “It got crowded in there.”
She joined them. “Well, the good news is, the whole house is empty now. Mike got an emergency call. The draper left. Everyone else went to lunch. We should be quiet for a few hours.”
Eric sighed with obvious relief. “Thank god. I have a conference call in five minutes. I thought I would have to yell over the sound of that saw whining.” He strode back into the house.
Tate leaned over and gave Belle a kiss. “I have errands to run, baby. I’ll be back in a few hours. I’ll be here in time for the cleansing.”
She nodded. “Okay, but she said I needed to clear out the house. The fewer people here, the better.”
Tate left, and he was alone with Belle. How could it be more awkward to talk to a woman than to make love to her? He hated the fact that he felt anything but comfortable with her. She was one of the few people in the world he could really relax around, and now all he could think about was the fact that he was going to be the outsider, the interloper. Tate and Eric would be here with Belle—live with her, love her. They would be her family, her men. He would be back in Chicago with new partners. He’d be alone again without friends. Without a woman. He’d have nothing.
“Hey.” Belle approached him, putting her hands on his waist and tilting her face to his. The sun hit the glowing brown hue of her skin, making it come alive. So fucking gorgeous. “We have the whole house to ourselves. What should we do? Have any ideas?”
He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to lay her out and take her over and over again, as many times as he could until she shut him out in favor of the men who gave her love and forever. His cock twitched, but his heart took a nosedive. “Belle, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
He’d never made love to her without Eric and Tate around. He wasn’t sure he should. They knew what they wanted. They wouldn’t hesitate to tell her they loved her, worshipped her, and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with her. He was a sad sack who could never give her what she deserved.
Belle went up on her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his. A light touch, almost a whisper, but it made his cock go instantly hard as a rock. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. It’s the best I’ve had all day. Tate and Eric won’t mind. They’ve got things to do.”
He wanted nothing more than to toss her against the wall and force his way deep inside her body. When he was inside her, everything made sense.
She took his hand, and before he had time to protest, she was pulling him into the house. They walked through the kitchen, toward the hall.
“Eric!”
What the hell was she doing? She pushed through the kitchen door and led him out into the main hallway.
Eric stepped out of the living room, his cell phone in hand. “Yeah, baby?”
She wasn’t going to ask him, was she? “Do you have a problem with me taking Kellan upstairs and blowing his mind for an hour or so? It’s been a stressful morning. I could use a little relief.”
What the hell was wrong with her? He shook his head. “Man, I…”
Eric grinned and winked at Belle. “Go for it, baby. If I can knock this call out in less than an hour, I’ll join you.” He nodded Kellan’s way. “Take care of our girl, man.”
Belle blew him a kiss as she started up the stairs. Kellan found himself following, dumbfounded. Were they all out of their minds?
She was making their problems sound easier than they really were. She was taking something complex and making it so simple, as though all they had to do was love each other to make this work. As if the other guys wouldn’t mind because she was their girl and all that mattered was working together to make her happy.
The trouble was, she wasn’t his girl. He hadn’t earned her. She belonged to Eric and Tate.
Bell
e grabbed the bottom of her shirt as she entered the room and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it to the side. Every inch of skin she revealed made his cock jerk.
His mouth started to water as she unhooked her bra and her breasts bounced free. She gracefully stepped out of her pants. What the hell was he supposed to do? Turn her down? Maybe she wasn’t his, didn’t belong to him, but she wanted to be with him. He hadn’t lied to her, hadn’t told her one untrue thing. Why shouldn’t he take her?
He came up with a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t leave the bedroom now, but only one of them really counted. He had so little time left. He couldn’t waste a minute. He wanted her more than he wanted just about anything.
“Undress me.” He didn’t know how long he would last. They didn’t have the time to do all the things he really wanted, like tie her up and spend hours torturing her with pleasure. Clamping those magnificent breasts would be the first on his list. He would use diamond clamps because they would set off the deep, rich color of her skin. A platinum chain would run between her breasts and down to the clamp he would affix on the jewel of her clit. It would bite into her, a pleasurable pain that would lead to the sort of orgasm that made her cry out and twist and plead for mercy. When it came to her, he didn’t have any. He’d love to keep her on the edge all afternoon. She would scream his name out over and over again.
But the freaking contractors would eventually show up after their lunch break, and Belle would be angry if she got caught naked and tied up and bejeweled like the BDSM princess she was. He had an hour with her—max. Greedily he wanted to spend every second of it inside her.
Belle sauntered to him, lifting her shaking hands to the