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If the hunters keep up their traditional methods of trapping ghosts and eradicating demons, then it won’t be long until the monsters win. Demons have no qualms about using whatever tools they have in their arsenal in order to survive. This I’ve learned from grim experience.
Why shouldn’t we have that same mentality?
I clear my throat in a futile attempt to banish the cotton balls from my head. “Why don’t you just give me a call, and I’ll come pick it up?”
A furrow manifests between Freddie’s bushy brows. “Do you want me to call your room?”
“No.” I force a giggle. “I can give you my cell number.”
I reach across his desk for a piece of paper and pen, then quickly write down my number. Freddie watches my hand move, utterly transfixed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. I make sure to bend over just far enough for him to have an unobstructed view of my cleavage.
“Oh, well…” He swallows convulsively. “It’s not really policy to—”
“Thank you again!” I wiggle my fingers in a wave before hurrying across the lobby.
Hopefully, Freddie will be able to compile enough information to help me perform this séance. All I need is one picture of the unhappy couple, then I can discover what’s important to our little ghost friend. Perhaps I can replicate the bride’s old wedding dress. I doubt he’ll know the difference between one created in the twenty-first century and one from 1960.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even notice the man until I plow right into him. My head careens off his chest, and I stagger backwards a few steps, holding a hand to my nose.
“Well, I’m sorry, darling. I’m afraid I didn’t see you there. All of the drilling I’ve been doing today must’ve messed with mymind. You just have to go sodeepwith your drills. So, so deep.” Rough hands land on my shoulders to steady me.
Oh…no.
No. No. No.
I reluctantly peel my hand from my face and force my gaze up to meet Old Man Rodney’s.
He’s dressed similarly to the way he was the last time I saw him—jean shorts so tiny they could’ve been mistaken for a pair of briefs and a white tank top that emphasizes his gnarled gray hair poking through the shirt holes like weeds in a garden. He swings a hammer around lazily as he flashes me a toothy grin.
“Now, I need to go pound some things. Have to force those nailsdeepinside their holes.”
“Err…” I wrinkle my nose in disgust as he begins to shimmy his hips.
“I once pounded a nailso deepinto a hole that the wall—”
“Rodney!” a somewhat familiar voice exclaims. “Just the man I was looking to see.”
None other than Levi saunters forward with his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored pants. He looks particularly sexy today, but I don’t know if that’s just a product of my poor libido being forced to sleep next to Brooks all night without touching him or the honest-to-God truth.
His dark hair is mussed in a devilish “just fucked” look, and the tattoos coloring his lower arms are on full display because the gods have blessed me and he’s wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His skin looks like it’s still damp from a shower and he’s pulled his clothes on before he’s fully dry.
Good lord.
What I wouldn’t do to study every inch of this man’s skin…
With my tongue.
Levi’s lips twitch upwards almost as if he feels my gaze like a physical caress, but he doesn’t pull his attention off of Old Man Rodney.
“My shower seems to be leaking, my friend. I was wondering if you could take a look.” Levi jabs his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the elevator. “Room three hundred and thirty-three.”
“Oh my! That is an issue!” Rodney’s eyes widen comically as he hikes up his skin-tight jean shorts. He must have the wedgie from hell at this point. “We can’t have a leaking faucet, can we? It’ll make everythingwetandslippery.”
God, how can something as innocent as that sound so perverted leaving his lips?
Levi seems to be on the same wavelength as me. His own easygoing smile distorts into a grimace.
“Yeah…it’s, um, certainly wet up there.”
