Page 9 of Love at First Fright

“That’s irrelevant! If we’ve just lost Camille there, then we need me at the hotel. Have you seen Gary? The man can barely climb a flight of stairs!”

“Lost” Camille?

“He’ll be fine. He looks vaguely intelligent.”

A snort. More mumbling. Then, “—want me to go with that other new guy? You know I only work alone!”

My gut twisted. Was that me?!

Gerald’s voice rose, clearer now. “Brad, we need you with Charlie on the Wiltshire haunt. The EMF readings are off the charts. We’re talking multiple Level Four entities. I need you there, with Charlie as backup.”

After a few more grumbles, the door wrenched open.

The man who emerged looked like he’d walked off the set of some gritty crime drama. Tall, broad-shouldered, with short dark hair that fell just so across his forehead. Sharp jaw, sharper eyes—blue, a shade paler than mine. A leather jacket that fitted him like it had been tailored. A face that would’ve made my teenage self write terrible poetry.

He glared at Gary and me with equal contempt, his gaze flicking between us like he couldn’t decide who he despised more. Gary, for snatching his haunted hotel from him, or me for existing.

Gerald appeared behind him, fingers gripping the doorframe. “Ah, Charlie! I was just telling Brad here about your joint assignment on Monday. He can fill you in on the details.”

“Monday?” I squeaked. “But I’ve only had three hours of training!”

Gerald waved his hand. “It’s all in the handbook.” He retreated into his office and shut the door.

Then, to my horror, Gary, the absolute traitor, shuffled off after Ted without a backward glance.

Silence settled like dust. Thick, horrible dust.

I stuck out my hand. “Charlie Hayes.”

Brad eyed it like I’d just offered him a diseased rat. Several seconds crawled past. Then he gripped my hand and squeezed. Hard. Too hard. The bones in my fingers ground together.

“Any previous experience in this line of work?” he asked flatly.

“Not exactly.”

“Right,” he said, releasing my hand. I resisted the urge to shake feeling back into it. “Well, you need to be tough for this job.”

His gaze travelled down my body. Scrawny arms. Narrow shoulders. The physique of someone whose daily workout consisted of walking to Tesco to rifle through the reduced section. I fought the mad urge to cross my arms over my chest.

“Does it say that in the handbook?” I asked sweetly.

Brad’s eyes dropped to my wrist. To the rainbow bracelet Lily had made me that summer, all wonky knots and uneven beads. She’d been so proud when she’d tied it on, gap-toothed smile lighting up her whole face.

His eyes narrowed. His lip curled.

Hot licks of anger coiled tightly in my stomach. Ah, fuck. Was I really about to set a personal best for fastest firing? But I couldn’t stop myself from spitting, “Do you have a problem with my bracelet, Brad?”

“What?!” The word snapped out of him. Pink coloured his cheeks. “No! Of course not! My cousin’s a lesbian!”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of it—my first day, and I’d already landed the homophobic dickhead as my partner. How was this my luck?

Brad sneered at me. “Listen. You and me? We’ll only have a problem if you let me down. Because when two people go on a job together, someone always dies.”

I waited for the punchline. The smirk that would tell me he was joking.

It didn’t come.

His hand landed on my shoulder. Heavy. Possessive. The sort of touch that said I own this space and you’re just visiting.