Free Into the Fire by Anne Stuart

which of those options was preferable.
    She was shivering, her body racked with cold, when the door behind her opened. She should have stomped off, but Dillon’s garage was in a particularly unsavory part of an unsavory town, and even in broad daylight she didn’t feel too safe exploring.
    She didn’t turn, keeping her back rigid, trying to control the shivers. He could apologize until he was blue in the face. Though actually she was the one who was turning blue.
    â€œHe’s gone into the garage to work,” Mouser said. “Come in before you freeze your…freeze to death.”
    She turned to look at the little man. “Dillon is an asshole,” she said flatly.
    Mouser’s wizened face creased in a smile. “Can’t argue with you on that one. He’s always been a difficult son of a bitch. Doesn’t mean you need to catch your death of cold. Because if you get sick while you’re here I don’t think he’s going to be bringing you chicken soup and aspirin. He’s not exactly the nurturing type, is he?”
    â€œNot exactly,” Jamie said, following him into the kitchen and closing the door behind her. It waswarm, blessedly warm, and she rubbed her hands together to try to bring some life back.
    â€œYou’re as stubborn as he is, aren’t you?” Mouser said. “That’s going to be trouble.”
    â€œNo, it’s not. I’m going to get out of here and never see him again. I don’t know what his problem is—you can’t tell me he couldn’t come up with a car I could use and a hundred bucks to cover gas.”
    â€œI wouldn’t tell you that Dillon couldn’t do anything. He’s very resourceful. Must be he doesn’t want to help you.”
    â€œI can believe that. But I’d think getting rid of me would be more important than his dislike of me.”
    Mouser’s smile exposed a set of startlingly perfect teeth. Undoubtedly dentures. “You think he dislikes you?”
    â€œOf course. He dislikes me just as much as I dislike him,” Jamie said flatly.
    â€œWell, if you put it that way, that’s a possibility,” Mouser said in a dry voice. “But bottom line, Jamie, is that I’ve known him well for the last five years, and I know what he thinks about things. And in your case, dislike doesn’t have much to do with it.”
    â€œOkay, hatred,” Jamie supplied.
    Mouser shook his head. “Not exactly. You’llhave a chance to figure it out in the next few days, both of you. It’ll be a good thing. Too much unfinished business between the two of you.”
    â€œWhat makes you think that?” Jamie demanded. “I can’t believe he’s ever even mentioned me. Even thought of me in the last five years.”
    â€œYou forget, Nate was here. You were mentioned. Why don’t you ask Killer about it. He just might tell you.” Mouser was shrugging into his heavy jacket, preparing to head out into the icy Wisconsin weather.
    â€œYou think I won’t?” Jamie said. “I’m here for answers.”
    â€œGood for you. And if you pay attention, maybe he’ll give them to you. If you really want them.”
    And he closed the door gently behind him, leaving Jamie alone in the kitchen. Wondering if she really did want all the answers, after all.
    Â 
    He could smell the cinnamon and hazelnut floating up toward him. Funny, he’d forgotten what it was like to eat, to feel warm, to touch, but his sense of smell was still powerful. He could recognize the smell of Killer’s shampoo, he could tell when Jamie was moving far beneath him. Trapped as he was, he could feel everything, smell everything, know everything. Except how to escape .
    Unfinished business, isn’t that the sort of thing that kept ghosts tied to a place? Nate had unfinished business, and as soon as he figured out what it was, he’d be able to leave.
    It might be