Phantoms Trilogy

Chapter 10

The crew gathered in the dining room setting up for their first nighttime investigation. Ava stood next to Sammy while they decided who was going where, watching Jackson hunched over the thermo camera as he calibrated the thing with Terrance. He was wearing a pair of worn jeans and a Henley shirt, fit snug to his body. The muscles in his forearms currently had her entranced. All sinew and corded, his body was a work of art. His ass filled the denim in a mouthwatering, delicious...

God, she needed to get laid.

Sammy looked at her with a knowing smile. "You'll investigate with me and Jackson. I think we should start in Peter Trumble's bedroom because of the desk."

Great. Jackson's current bedroom. Where he slept. The smell of him surrounding her, making Ava wonder if he slept naked...

"Got it," Jackson said to Terrance, straightening to full height.

"Let's go dark," Amir said, "in three, two, one."

The dining room lights remained on so Amir and Terrance could watch the monitors, but Tom followed Kerry around the main floor with a camera as she cut off the switches.

Sammy nudged Ava with an elbow. She followed them up the stairs to the last bedroom. Aside from the moon and streetlights casting a feeble glow through the window, the room was pitch black.

Sammy closed the bedroom door behind them and sat in the desk chair. Jackson claimed the bed. Earl silently positioned himself in the corner to pan the whole room with the camera.

Ava glanced around and swallowed hard. Jackson's bag was open on the only remaining chair.

Jackson patted the mattress next to him. "Over here. Let's see if we can get some activity."

Right. Lovely. Except he meant paranormal activity.

Lord, she'd gone two years with no s*x. A fact which had hardly bothered her until now. It had been so long since she'd experienced this kind of heat low in her belly that it was more shocking than appealing. Really, what could be benefitted from acting on this attraction with Jackson? She didn't do casual s*x. They were so different. Wanted different things. He was a weed in the wind, and she a rooted oak.

Attractive thought, Ava. An oak? Okay, maybe a rose bush. Yes. She was a rose bush.

And now she was she was making up nature euphemisms. Insanity does run in the family, after all.

"So, we've got Ava in here investigating with us," Sammy supplied for the camera, "because whenever Jackson and Ava are together, things happen. We think this is because of him being a Kerrick descendant and her a Trumble."

Ava barely restrained a snort and moved to the bed. She sat on the opposite side from Jackson and put her hands indecisively in her lap.

Damn, the room did smell like him. Like male and citrus and alpine.

Jackson scooted against the headboard and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

She closed her eyes, thankful for the dark, but a sudden orange glow from Jackson's device had her eyes popping open again.

"Nothing on thermo yet," he supplied. "Is anyone here with us?"

Sammy set her digital recorder on the desk. "You've got a Kerrick back in the house now after two hundred years. How do you feel about that?"

"Are you the one who opened the desk drawer?" Jackson's steady gaze scanned the room. "Ava found the papers. What's your name?"

This went on for about an hour, with nothing happening, before Ava's legs started falling asleep. Adjusting herself, she moved closer to Jackson and leaned against the headboard. His thigh pressed against hers, hip to hip. His heat radiated, the solid muscles contrasting her soft curves.

He drew a sharp inhale through his nose, the only indicator he'd felt a charge, too.

A pulsing silence ensued.

"It's getting cold in here," Sammy commented.

Jackson looked at the thermo in his lap. "Says it's fifty-five degrees. It was sixty-eight when we started."

Sammy wiggled her fingers, wanting the camera.

He passed it over and she panned the room.

"There's a cold spot at the foot of the bed, right between you, by your feet."

Earl silently stepped closer, filming the thermo lens and the bed.

Jackson swept his hand over the comforter. "It is cold. Is that you?" he questioned loudly. "What's your name?"

Nothing happened.

The cold temperature reading slowly disappeared from the lens.

Sammy sighed. "Let's move on to another room." She picked up her radio and spoke into it. "Kerry, Amir, where are you guys?"

Her walkie-talkie crackled, then Kerry responded. "The parlor. Nothing to report."

"Let's take a break. We'll meet in the dining room to play back the digitals."

Ava followed them downstairs and into the dining room, oddly discouraged.

Without a word, Jackson removed a chip from his digital recorder and plugged it into one of the laptops. Amir and Kerry came in to sit down and she did the same with her recorder. They listened to hers first, which was a half hour of silence with an occasional question from her to the ghosts. No one spoke back.

Ava watched each of the members with interest, the unit they were and how in sync, but her gaze landed on Jackson and remained. Forever drawn to him, it seemed.

He did funny things to her pulse. Though it had been quite some time, she recognized the attraction for what it was. The man emanated s*x appeal. He was charming and clever and yummy. Wide shoulders, bronze skin, penetrating blue eyes. His movements were all alpha, assured and with purpose. A woman could lose her heart willingly a thousand times with a man like Jackson. He'd be a devastatingly attentive lover, too, if his kiss and attention were any indication. Not just because of his experience, but for the sheer pleasure in the details he'd enact with his partner.

Something deeper than a physical response niggled at her nape, sliding up into the base of her skull.

The other night, after she'd told him about her ideal first date, he'd taken her outside to kiss her goodnight. They hadn't been on a date, but the gesture had been...sweet. Like the need to make up for previous lovers and show her some etiquette had been his only aspiration.

God, that kiss. No one had left her weak-kneed and close to begging before.

The back of her head started to ache, to throb, as she thought about how Jackson had described the kiss to his crew. Like he'd done it before. Which was insane. Insane and true. She'd felt the same thing.

Memory. A recollection.

Jackson looked up from the monitor suddenly, as if sensing her thoughts, his gaze locking with hers and holding. Confusion melded with understanding and a trace of fear. He straightened to full height and sucked in a breath.

The sound echoed in her ears and bounced around in her skull. Something unspoken passed between them, a sensation she couldn't describe in words.

Bonding.

Merging.

Clarity.

Raw, visceral...devotion.

The pulsing in her head intensified, to the point she brought her hand up to rub the ache away and touched...ice. The whole back of her head was...freezing.

The room whirled to a blur with only Jackson's gaze to ground her. Sounds of the crew filtered out, muted by the rush of blood through her veins, the beat of her heart and the loud click of her blink when her lashes closed. She was vaguely aware that he'd stepped closer, that he'd pressed his large, warm hands on her cool cheeks.

This was where she belonged. Right here with him. Forever.

"I love you," she whispered.

She'd burst if she didn't tell him, die painfully if he let her go. Emotion clogged her throat. Helpless passion ached in her stomach.

He cradled her to his chest, carried her out of the room in some kind of slow motion to compound the enormity of the moment. She buried her face in his shirt, inhaling the soil and linen-cloth scent. Somewhere far away, the hinges on the back door squeaked. She smiled up at him, her lover, her best friend. The stars winked behind him in the inky sky as he dropped to his knees. His eyes held worry. Dread.

That wasn't right. What could possibly be wrong?

His mouth moved, his lips forming her name over and over.

She drew in air to speak, to console, but her lungs were full. Panicked, she gripped his shirt, fisting it in her hands as she struggled to sit. To get closer to him. To push him away.

"Ava!" Jackson's face hovered over hers. He pushed back the hair from her cheeks. Such worry. His voice was cracking and hoarse with fear. Unshed tears shimmered in his eyes.

Jackson. Jackson? Wondering what had him so upset, she said his name aloud this time and smiled to soften her tone.

"Oh, thank God. Sweet Jesus. You scared me to death."

She scared him? They must've heard something on Jackson's digital recorder while she'd spaced out. She'd missed it while ogling him from across the room. Daydreaming like a little girl awaiting her prince.

But, wait...

She wasn't standing in the dining room.

She was sitting in Jackson's lap.

In the frost-tinged backyard.

And the whole crew was standing around, staring at her with round eyes. Even Earl, whose camera was perched on his shoulder, had white knuckles from the tight grip.

She scrambled off Jackson's lap and onto the cool, damp grass. She shot to a stand and crossed her arms. "What's going on?"

Jackson rose to his feet unsteadily. "Do you remember anything?" His accent was gone. So was his easy, charming nature. He looked shaken. In fact, his hands were shaking when he reached for her.

She stepped away, fear and confusion clinging to the gray matter in her head, filling her chest. "Why are we outside? Why are you staring at me?"

"Don't get defensive, Ava. We're all a little rattled." Jackson's gaze darted to Earl. "Turn the camera off."

Earl did as asked, and set the camera by his feet.

"What's the last thing you remember, Ava?" Kerry asked, her voice soothing, her expression reiterating, don't freak out the crazy chick.

Ava looked at each of them. "I was standing in the dining room and my head started to hurt. Cold, actually. It felt cold. Everything after that is a blur. Did I pass out?"

"You said you loved me." Jackson's throat worked a swallow.

A bitter denial perched on the tip of her tongue, but she did remember saying that. Not to him though. Or maybe it was him. Damn it. She snapped her mouth shut, keeping quiet.

He dropped his hands on his hips and took a step closer. "Before you started acting strange, I heard a voice in my ear say, Look at her. A female voice that sounded familiar. I just knew she was talking about you, and the urge to protect you was so fierce that..."

He shook his head as if unable to finish the thought.

She gasped at the sight of him, at his unfathomable emotions mirroring her own. No longer on steady ground, she pressed a hand to her forehead and looked at the others. A hot ball of tears clogged her throat.

What in the hell was happening to them?

"Emotional manipulation," Kerry muttered, as if reading her mind. "Usually, you get this sort of thing from dark energy. Demonic stuff."

Ava shook her head. "No. This wasn't evil. I didn't feel scared. There was this overwhelming sense of hope, of peace. I..." She trailed off, looking at Jackson, knowing what she was about to say would get her three to five in a padded cell. In a straightjacket, to boot. "I loved you."

Seemingly calmer, he nodded. "And I, you. The second she whispered the order to look at you, I remembered loving you. Being with you." At this announcement, Jackson blew out a harsh breath and scrubbed his hands over his face.

The crew all started talking at once.

"Oh boy." Sammy raised her hands for peace. "Okay, everyone calm down. Let's regroup in the library and talk this through. We need to rethink our whole approach here."

*~*~*

Jackson paced the library, needing to do something to expel his nervous energy as the crew argued over whether it was safe for him to remain on site and whether Ava needed medical attention. His skin was crawling, his heart pumping.

He'd never been in love, but he was confident that in those few minutes he'd held Ava, he loved her. Not Ava, but someone. Yet it was her. He couldn't decipher the difference in his head. They were one and the same, the ghost and Ava. The memories he couldn't possibly have and the present here and now.

"I'm fine," Ava said for the thousandth time, her tone weary. "It was like a daydream almost. Nothing to get so upset about."

Her words were calm and assured, but her actions belied them. She was most definitely rattled. Her bottom lip quivered and she wouldn't look any of them in the eye.

Jackson turned to her, torn between temper and outright fear. "You were so pale, your skin so translucent, I could see every vein under your flesh. At one point, you were gasping. Choking, luv." And God, that was the most freaked he'd ever been. For a suspended beat, he wanted to die right along with her.

Kerry slapped her hands down on her lap from beside Ava on the sofa. "Here's my take. I think something is trying to show you memories. Both of you. What we need to do is find out if this female entity from the dream is Sarah Kerrick. We also need to find out who the other active spirit is who Jackson sensed. Until we determine that, we won't know how to help them or get this stuff to stop."

"I agree," Terrance said.

Sammy shook her head. "It's that other spirit that worries me." She looked at Jackson with grit. "You've already been pushed. Now we've got possible possession and manipulation."

None of that bothered him. Protecting Ava was the only thing that mattered. Not that he'd say so out loud. The crew was freaked enough. "Then we'd better figure out who these spirits are and what they want. Because I'm not leaving, and Ava needs help."

Amir leaned forward in his seat. "How do you suppose we do that?"

"Provoking." Sammy shrugged, obviously conceding defeat. "We goad the angry spirit and hope we catch an EVP. As for the female, we need to figure out a way to talk to her."

"Spirit board?" Kerry supplied, finger-combing her blonde ponytail.

"Oh no. No," Terrance said. "We agreed not to use those anymore. It can open a door and let other things in. Bad things."

Sammy sighed. "He's right. We'll use that as a last resort. I say we bust out the ITC Device and the White Noise Dowsing. Use 'em every chance we get."

"What are those?" Ava asked.

Jackson, glad to see her color finally returning, sat down next to her. "ITC is a voice box. It detects energy and allows spirits to talk through the box. The white noise dowsing creates white noise. It's an energy source the spirits can feed from. That's the theory anyway."

She offered a wan smile by way of thanks and looked away.

Sammy ran her hands through her short, black hair, worry and frustration tightening her features. "When these episodes occur between you two, we need to make sure the digitals are on. Tom, Earl, you need to be attentive to them. Keep the camera on them at all times. We might catch something."

They nodded their agreement, unfazed by her tone. Sammy got testy when nervous, an endearing quality Jackson loved about her.

"We should also instill the buddy system," Kerry said. "No one investigating alone for longer than a few minutes. I think Sammy needs to investigate with me so Amir and Terrance can watch the monitors together. Then nothing gets missed. We'll find irregularities sooner."

"I don't like the idea of Jackson and Ava alone." Sammy rolled her head to stretch her neck.

"They won't be," Kerry countered. "Tom or Earl will be there. We can teach Ava how to use the equipment."

Terrance took Amir's hand in his, a subtle move, but one Jackson had rarely seen while with a client. In the five years they'd been on air, the couple never showed public displays of affection. Not just because of the homophobia still out there, but because they wanted to keep their personal life apart from the public. The act proved how on edge they all were.

Ava's gaze slid in their direction, and Terrance swiftly dropped Amir's hand.

She leaned forward, taking both their hands and reuniting them as if they had no reason to be ashamed or to hide.

Which, they didn't. Not with the Phantoms crew. They didn't know Ava all that well, though.

Not for the first time, Jackson's chest tightened with pride and admiration at her strength of character, at her unwavering ability to allow others the comfort in being themselves. Something, it seemed, no one in her circle let her do.

She cleared her throat. "Whatever you need from me, I'll do to help."

Terrance and Ava exchanged a long look, and Terrance's expression morphed from apprehension to thanks.

Sammy eyed Jackson with raised brows, obviously impressed. Seemed as if Ava had Sammy's full approval now, too.

Terrance squeezed Amir's hand in his and smiled. "I'll teach you how to use the equipment in the morning," he said to her.

Jackson glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost four a.m. "Let's call it a night. We can pick this up again tomorrow."

They began filing out of the library.

Ava made the motion to rise. Jackson set his hand on her thigh to still her. Her brows rose, but for once, she didn't argue.

When all had left the room and Sammy had closed the door behind her, Jackson turned on the couch to face Ava. She looked wiped. They'd been up for almost twenty-four hours and just had one hell of an emotional upheaval.

"I don't know what to say to you," she said quietly, staring ahead as if she couldn't bear the thought of looking at him.

"I'm trying not to be that guy who bolts when a woman declares her love for him."

For that, she turned her head. Her pretty gray-blue eyes scanned his face, taking in his grin, before she let out a hesitant laugh. After a moment or two, she completely let go, near hysterics.

He couldn't help himself, he went mad with her until his side felt like it had split open.

She leaned her head back against the couch and sighed. "Am I going crazy, Jackson?"

"If so, I'm right there with you. We can share a room at the institution. I'll basket weave and you'll give me your red Jell-O because you secretly hate it."

She huffed a laugh again. "Sounds like a decent plan."

She really was a beautiful woman. Graceful, kind, understated. He stared at her profile, suddenly wanting to bury his face in the curve of her neck, run his hands through her red waves, and plunge so deep inside her, she couldn't even call his name.

Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but this he could relate to. This physical, had-to-have-her-now need.

"Look at me, Ava."

She did with no hesitation, and that did something funny to his gut.

"For the record, this is all me and has nothing to do with what happened earlier." Before she could respond, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and hauled her sideways across his chest. He registered her shocked gasp a second before he sealed his mouth to hers.

Oh bloody hell. As if expecting his move, her lips parted without hesitation. His tongue found hers, mated and conquered. No, this wasn't anything like before. There were no errant thoughts other than wanting her. Her. Wanting Ava, any way he could get her. She tasted good. Like sugar and peppermint. Her hands cradled his face, but apparently she didn't like the position. Without breaking away, she slid one leg over and straddled him.

Bloody. Hell.

He gripped her hips and ground his erection against her core, cursing their clothing. She made a mewling noise in the back of her throat, which he swallowed whole and returned with a growl. His fingers dug into her backside through her denim, stopping her hips from rocking before he exploded. A plan which backfired because she crushed her perfect breasts against his chest and battled with him for control of the kiss.

He had to have her now, the need to claim so fierce.

She broke away to skim her mouth over his jaw, so he utilized that opportunity to breathe. The joke was on him. All he could breathe in was her. He slid his fingers under the hem of her shirt, up her sides and cupped her breasts through her lace bra. One surprise after another with Ava. He'd expected satin or soft cotton. He'd had more than one fantasy where lace was concerned. Noting how well her breasts fit in his hands, he used his thumbs to bring her n*****s to a peak, earning another satisfying mewl.

He debated switching positions, wanting her beneath him, wanting control back, but he was wrung so damn tight he thought he'd hurt her.

Finding her mouth again, he plunged inside, doing with his tongue what he wanted to do with a different, very demanding part of his anatomy. Her long, delicate fingers coursed down his chest, to his abs, which jumped beneath her touch. Bugger. He was going to die. Lower. God, lower her fingers moved. His hips jerked in response. His hands drove into her hair, clenching the soft, silky strands between his fingers as he'd wanted to do since he first saw her.

The library door opened with an echoing click.

They simultaneously stilled, lips still locked.

Panting, she broke away.

No one was standing there.

He sucked in much needed air. He was too turned on to be rattled. "Ghost or human?" he muttered. "I might kill either."

She slid off his lap and stared at him with sleepy, husky eyes. Her hair was a tangle of red curls from his fingers and her pink mouth swollen from his kiss. Damn if he didn't have the worst imaginable withdrawals.

She peeked around the doorframe and shrugged. "Ghost. I wonder if she was leaving the room to give us privacy or telling us to cool off."

"It would be nice if she made up her mind."

She bit her lip.

His d**k throbbed.

"You're not coming back over here, are you?"

She looked at him, and he could all but see the thoughts in her head. "I think we should call it a night."

"Separately."

"Um...yes." She was doing that stare-at-everything-but-him trick again.

"Ava." He waited until her gaze met his. "I've never wanted anyone more in my life."

Shock registered before her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he'd bet his entire salary at Phantoms that she didn't believe him. He rose, painfully ignoring his erection, and walked over to her. He dropped his mouth to her ear and his voice teasingly low.

"Two things you need to know about me, luv. I'm a patient man and..." He traced the outer shell of her ear with his tongue and smiled at her sharp intake. He pulled back and walked to the door.

She breathed heavily. "What's the other thing I need to know?" Her voice was as hesitant as it was curious.

"I don't like red Jell-O either."