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“Found somethingwhere?” Ward wanted to know.
“Bazan’s office,” I answered.
Ward’s grey eyes sparkled, and one corner of his lips quirked up. “Really?”
I nodded.
“Mason!” he called.
“What unholy trouble are we getting into now?” the big orc’s voice rumbled from behind me.
“Hart sent Sylvia to root through Bazan’s office,” the warlock replied cheerfully.
“Tell me you love me, detective,”the ghost purred.
“I’ll tell you that if you were alive, you could have my fucking babies if you’ll tell me that you found something good,” I told her.
“And now I will never, ever be able to getthatimage out of my head, thanks, Hart,” Ward grumbled.
I smirked at him.
Sylvia appeared delighted, which made me wonder—just a little bit—whether or not I’d just made a mistake. But since shewasdead, I felt fairly confident that I’d be okay making what-if promises like that without getting myself in too much trouble.
Ward wasn’t going to let me get away with it, though. The spoilsport.
“You do know he has a boyfriend, right?” he asked the ghost.
“Of course, Nancy.”Don’t ask me why or how the woman came up with or got away with that one. I’m sure there’s a story there, but it’s not one Ward has ever shared with me.“He can join in.”
I had to swallow a couple of times before I could spit out a comeback.
“I didn’t know you were into three-ways, Sylvia.” I didn’t say it was agoodcomeback.
“Oh, darling, whywouldn’tI be? With you and that delicious Latin lover of yours?”
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ in a chicken basket.
I wasn’t prepared for Sylvia. On any level.
“I, ah… I might have to okay that with Taavi,” was the best I could come up with. My ears were on fire, and I felt like I was back in junior high and getting made fun of by Sarah Tanberg because I’d tripped and covered myself in mud at recess.
She’d told me that no girls would ever like me.
I’d snapped back, my face burning, that I didn’twantany girls to like me.
Which, let me tell you, is not the right thing to say when you’re a burgeoning gay kid in a small-town midwestern public school. Not even a little bit.
Fast forward almost thirty years, and I could still be completely mortified by rich members of the opposite sex.
Good thing I didn’t need to impress any.
“Sylvia.” Ward took pity on me, which just made my ears burn more, because I hate it when other people defend me. I wasn’t going to give him any shit about it, mind you, but that doesn’t mean I liked it.
The ghost winked at me.
“What I have for you, my lovely detective, includes the contract between one Julian Vidal and David Garcia that makes both joint owners of Deepwater-Hephaestus. Even better, however, I saw the records of a lovely couple for whom Bazan negotiated several property contracts by the name of—”She paused, her eyes sparking.“—Any guesses, boys?”
“Sylvia,” Ward said again, with a decided sense of exasperation.
