Soldier of Love (7 page)

Toni couldn’t blame them for freaking out. If her name weren’t on the mortgage, she would have run screaming out the squeaky front door. She felt her shoulders droop as she watched them huddle into a tight pack and try to manoeuvre up the stairs without losing physical contact with one another.

When the last of their feet had disappeared from view, she turned to Thomas. “Now what am I supposed to do? I’ve got a stack of bills and an empty inn. And I’m pretty sure they’re going to want their money back. And there’s no way you’re going to be able to get them to sign releases now and…”

Bridget flipped her clipboard onto the dining room table and the tiny shards of broken light bulbs crunched beneath it.

“Already done. Every one of them signed a release before the weird shit started going down.”

Thomas clamped his hands over the sides of Bridget’s face and kissed her hard on the mouth.

“Atta girl!”

Thomas’ hands remained on Bridget’s face for a moment. He pressed one palm against her forehead. He tilted his head and looked concerned. “You’re burning up, O’Malley. Are you feeling okay?”

Bridget jerked out of his reach. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just the excitement, and the cognac. You know how drinking makes my face flush.”

“But you didn’t have a dr…” Toni began, straining to make out Bridget’s face in the dim room

Bridget stopped her with an icy stare. “I’m fine!”

Thomas flipped up one end of the tablecloth, catching the glass shards inside, and pushed it back to clear a spot for the three to work. He didn’t look up as the six re-enactors hurried down the stairs in almost as tight of a huddle as they’d ascended.

Toni started to rise to see them out, but Thomas pressed a palm over her thigh. There was nothing sexual about this under-the-table touch. With his free hand, Thomas scooped up Bridget’s clipboard and tapped it on the far side of the linen to knock off any stray glass. He released Toni’s leg, laid the clipboard on the table and flipped to the blank notebook pages in the back. He didn’t acknowledge the men at the base of the stairs.

Toni frowned as she heard the front door creak open, then shut, followed by the unmistakable tap of hard-soled shoes falling on the oak planks in the foyer. She wondered for an instant if she was imagining it, but Thomas and Bridget turned towards the sound. Toni held her breath. She sensed the other two were doing the same. The three leaned towards the arch between the foyer and the dining room.

“Oh, for chrissake!” Thomas said as Mike Briggs rounded the corner.

The real estate salesman gave an awkward wave as he entered the room.

“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay,” he said.

Toni stood. This time Thomas didn’t stop her. She rushed over to the man and drew him into a hug. “Thank you!”

Thomas shrugged. “Yeah, that’ll be good. We can get at least one guest interview.”

“Actually,” Mike began, “I was thinking I might be able to help. I went to school to be a photo-journalist. That didn’t work out quite the way I thought. Anyway, I know my way around a camera, and I can’t help but notice you seem to be without your A/V guy.”

Thomas nodded. “We could use the help. It usually takes two to do tech and Red’s not lookin’ so hot.” Bridget pushed a damp hank of bangs back from her glistening forehead. “I’m fine!” she insisted, not sounding fine at all. “Okay,” Thomas said, giving Bridget a quick once-over. “Let’s storyboard this thing quick so we can get something on tape before sunrise.”

Thomas motioned everyone in. Mike took the seat at the head of the table. Bridget sat at his right, Thomas at his left and Toni beside Thomas. He fished his keys from his pocket, flicked on the little penlight attached to the ring, and trained the thin beam of light on the clipboard.

Toni kept her gaze trained on Bridget’s obviously pained face while Thomas began scribbling notes.

“Okay, Toni, you said you’ve got the most activity in the kitchen…”

Toni felt a squeeze on her inner thigh. The squeeze became a massage, and the massage became a stroke.

“…let’s start in there and see if we can get any action.”

Before Thomas finished his sentence, Toni’s pussy was engulfed in a strong palm with probing fingers.

Toni shot to standing and when Thomas turned to look at her, she knocked his face back to centre with a strong slap. She was stunned by how satisfying it felt. It was one thing to feel her up when both of them were under some kind of supernatural voodoo trance, but to think he could just…

“What the fuck was that!” Thomas yelled, dropping his pen and jerking up his hand to cover his face.

Toni snatched up the penlight and pointed it at him. “Oh please! You think you can just finger-bang me under the table and… What? Because you’re some big TV star I’m just going to grin and be soooo flattered?”

Thomas dropped his hand from his face and Toni stared wide-eyed at the hand-shaped welt her slap had left behind. Her sense of righteous indignation was beginning to waver. Thomas glared at her as he opened his mouth wide then moved his lower jaw from side to side as if testing for major damage. Toni struggled not to be the first to blink. Thomas met her stare as he groped around the tabletop for his pen. He picked it up and held it out to her—in the same hand he’d used to cover his now raging red left cheek.

“I’m left-handed,” he snarled. “I was taking notes. With…my…left…
hand,
right up until the moment you clocked me. I was nowhere near your pussy, Miss Bianchi!”

Toni stooped to peer under the table, sweeping the little flashlight back and forth over the space. There was nothing beneath it besides a ratty braided rug.

Toni stood, dropped the key ring on the table then fidgeted with the front of her dress. “I’m really sorry, Thomas. I…it was just so…I was certain…”

Thomas’ eyebrows pulled together and he tilted his head to one side. “Did it happen just now? The, uh, contact?”

Toni nodded.

Thomas cycled his hand over his head as if twirling a lasso. “Let’s round up the equipment and set up in the kitchen. We’ll interview Toni right now about the frottage. We’ll cut out the overtly sexual stuff, but maybe just talking about it will get Buckman to show himself.”

Mike and Thomas hurried into the kitchen. Bridget remained in her chair and Toni noticed that her skin had taken on a greyish cast. Toni walked around the table, knelt in front of the pretty ghost hunter then put her hand on Bridget’s forehead. She was burning hot.

“Do you want to go lie down?” Toni asked.

Bridget shook her head, “Let’s get a couple of shots. I’ll sleep when the sun comes up.”

* * * *

Thomas sat Bridget down at the long farmhouse table in the kitchen and placed some audio equipment within her reach. The redhead just leaned her forehead into her hand while Thomas powered up and adjusted the settings. Mike levelled the camera tripod and tested the ambient light levels for the night-vision camera. Toni leant back against the sink, thankful for the darkened room. The idea of giving Thomas an explicit account of her ghost sex had left her completely mortified.

Mike stepped aside and Thomas peered into the camera that the stand-in A/V guy had set up.

Thomas clasped Mike’s shoulder. “Nice.”

Thomas walked to the sink and stood beside Toni. Mike was peering through the viewfinder. He motioned for Thomas to move left. Thomas advanced an inch at a time until Mike held up his palm then gave a thumbs up.

“Camera,” Thomas said.

“Rolling,” Mike answered.

Thomas’ voice took on a sombre tone when he said, “Toni, you’ve had some unusual encounters in this room—the kitchen. You’ve told us about the television turning on and switching channels of its own accord, and the telephone dialling itself. But, there’s more. Isn’t there?”

Toni could only nod.

Thomas placed his hand—the one away from the camera—on Toni’s shoulder. “Toni, there’s no shame here. You didn’t choose these encounters. They chose you. Please, tell us what happened.”

Toni closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nose. “Just minutes before the Paranormal Research Team pulled into the driveway, I was standing right here, doing dishes. I’d just finished and I was about to go into the parlour to watch for you when I felt something…someone…come up behind me and push me down over the sink.”

Toni paused when she heard a soft moan. No one else seemed to notice, so she continued.

“I felt hands on my waist and…on my breasts.”

Toni heard the moan again. It was hard to tell in the dimmed room, but it appeared that Thomas squinted ever so slightly. He didn’t tell her to stop, so she went on.

“I was afraid but intrigued. I turned and saw my reflection in the blank television screen. I clearly saw myself, I was alone, and then I saw my dress lift up from the hem, over my ankles, up my thighs and…”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.”

This time there was no denying the moan. Toni stopped and peered into the darkness.

“Oh, God!”

There was a split second that Toni thought she’d turned on some voyeuristic ghost with her hot story. In an instant the overhead lights were blazing and Thomas and Mike were kneeling beside Bridget’s chair.

“Can you stand?” Mike asked.

Bridget looped one arm around Mike’s shoulder and stood. It was clear she couldn’t straighten up.

“Where does it hurt?” Mike asked.

“What the hell? Are you a doctor now too?” Thomas asked.

“EMT,” Mike answered. “The real estate market’s been down so I drive ambulance a few nights a week.” He turned his attention back to Bridget. “Where does it hurt?”

She weakly raised her right hand and laid her palm above her right abdomen.

Mike looked up at Thomas. “I’m guessing appendicitis.” He turned to Toni. “Is there a hospital in town?”

“Turn right at the corner and it’s four blocks up on your left,” Toni said. She was shaking as if she’d seen a ghost.

Chapter Five

Mike had insisted on driving Bridget to the hospital and Bridget had insisted in turn that Thomas stay behind and get what footage he could. Thomas reluctantly agreed and completed his kitchen-sink interview with Toni, speaking into an unmanned camera on a tripod.

His phone buzzed against the table and Thomas dragged his finger across the screen to answer the call. He switched to speaker and held out the phone towards the camera’s condenser microphone.

“Bridget?” Thomas asked.

“No, it’s Mike. They rushed Bridget into surgery. It was her appendix. The doc just came out and said it went well and she’s going to be fine.”

“Thanks, Mike. Keep us posted.”

Thomas ended the connection, then stared into the camera. He looked like he was trying to formulate something pithy to say. After a moment, he simply reached out and switched off the power.

Toni stepped beside him.

Thomas bent to lay his head on her shoulder. “She’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “What a fucking night!”

Toni hugged him and he slumped against her. She had to step one foot backward to steady herself under his weight.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. In an instant Toni went from being bone-weary to hyper-aware. The warmth of Thomas’ body radiated through the calico cotton of her dress. She turned her nose towards his neck. His skin smelt clean and masculine. He must have felt her breathe in his scent, because he did the same. He inhaled deeply, then let out a deep groan. A ball of energy spun at the base of her spine. He turned his head until his lips touched her neck. He kissed the smooth flesh and the ball of energy that had gathered at her tailbone zipped through her body and hovered between her legs. He flexed his arms and drew her into him. When he pulled his lips from her neck, she turned to meet them with her own. Their kiss was long and deep and seemed to release them both from the coiled energy of stress the evening had wrought.

Thomas drew her into his arms and Toni was raised to her tiptoes, her breath nearly stolen away by his crushing embrace. She dropped back her head to fill her lungs and he pressed his mouth to the front of her throat. He guided her back to the sink and lifted her onto the countertop. She grasped the back of his head and pulled his mouth against hers. Their lips opened in unison and their tongues tumbled over one another. Toni was fuelled by the surge of emotions the night’s events had evoked.

Thomas worked his fingers along the front of her bodice and with a confident yank sent a half-dozen buttons clattering to the kitchen floor. Toni’s pussy throbbed and grew wet at the promise his action made. She felt pinned by the yards of fabric that made up her skirt and she reached down and began hoisting up the hem. As soon as it cleared her knees, Thomas pushed between her legs and began grinding into her. Dropping her hands between them, she tugged at the brass closure, freed the button, then groped for the tongue of his zipper. Before she could pull it down and free his erection, he jerked away from her. Toni was instantly mortified by her behaviour and wondered if she’d done something wrong.

She forced herself to look up at him. His head was turned and his chin was tucked. His eyes were fixed on her as if he were a lion and she a gazelle. This did not look like a man who didn’t want her to free his raging hard-on from its confines.

Thomas was panting. He held up one finger, as if to tell her to hang on for just a moment. He reached behind his back and pulled his vibrating cell phone from his pocket. He blindly slid his finger across the screen, then glanced long enough to hit the speaker button.

“Mike?” he said, still panting.

“No, this is Brad. Are you all right, man? You sound like you just ran a marathon.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“What’s up? It’s a boy, man! I’m a freakin’ daddy!”

Mike called moments after Thomas had congratulated his cameraman and hung up. Thomas left the phone on speaker and laid it on the kitchen table. He and Toni leaned in for the update. Bridget was in the recovery room. She was still groggy, but she’d come through with flying colours. She’d spend the night at the hospital then be off work for at least a week. Mike planned to stay with her.