Free Mystic Hearts by Cait Jarrod Page A

her hitting
her head on the ground, he wasn’t certain. Either way, the wine was the root of
her abnormal behavior. Still, he didn’t want to go into details concerning
Charlene’s behavior. If she wanted it known that she drank a bottle of wine by
herself, then it was for her to tell, not him. “It’s not that simple.”
    “Let
me take a stab here. Charlene drank to deal with ghosts and you think by not
spilling what happened, you’ll protect her virtue.” Steve squeezed the empty
beer can and tossed it beside the cooler. “Wonder if she saw the Madison Hand
we heard about recently?”
    “Come
on,” Jake said with a that’s-ridiculous tone embedded in his voice. “Who
believes in ghosts?”
    Larry
lifted an eyebrow. Steve must have done the same.
    Jake
snorted. “You guys can’t be serious. No facts, no proof. Hell, the witnesses
who thought they observed the renowned hand, doesn’t even believe their lying
eyes.”
    “I’m
not saying I believe in them,” Larry refuted. “Incidents happen that I can’t
justify.”
    “The
manor made a ghost-believer out of you?”
    Steve’s
snarky question irritated Larry. “That’s not what I said.”
    Steve
held up a hand. “As much as I hate to admit it, not everything can be
explained. I’m surprised Greenwood Manor shifted your way of thinking. The last
time we talked about a phenomenon, it was you two against me.”
    Larry
still didn’t know if he believed in spirits. “My way of thinking hasn’t
changed. I’m just admitting that not everything has an explanation.”
    “Well,
that’s progress.” Steve nodded toward Jake, “You?”
    “Nope.
There’s a reason for everything.”
    “You’ll
see the light one day.” Steve snickered. “Back to the case: I have a nagging
suspicion one of you guys hasn’t coughed up the whole story with Greenwood
Manor and the magic lights. I can locate either of you via satellite, but I
don’t have the equipment to read your minds. Now spill.”
    “A
call came across the FBI tip line.” Jake plopped down on the rock, his voice
turned serious. “An illegal drug trade run by a small outfit, The Impalers, is
thought to have a manufacturing plant at the manor.”
    This
was the first Larry heard of an outfit. “Wait a minute. Why in the hell wasn’t
I informed before I went out there to check on the verity of the lights?”
    “Did
you see any?” Jake asked, igoring Larry’s question.
    Fireflies,
Charlene had called them. “Yes.”
    Jake
cleared his throat. “You needed a partner. Why didn’t you call?”
    “Excuse
me?” Larry seethed. “Since when do I need a babysitter? And how the hell did
you know where I was in the first place?”
    “Steve,”
Jake said.
    Larry
didn’t have to ask how Steve knew. The man had eyes everywhere.
    “I
might not be in the FBI anymore,” Jake’s voice rose, matching Larry, “but you
damn well better cough up what’s going on. How else can you have backup?”
    Larry
sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Jake and his demands didn’t add up.
“Are we talking about the same job? Paul called, told me Jed Bradley, the
overseer of Greenwood Manor, had received a phone call about strange lights.
Given the nature of the call, Bradley elicited your brother’s help. I can’t say
why Paul called me and not you.”
    Jake
dropped his arms, a smile stretched across his face. “You’ve been had.”
    Steve
laughed.
    A
bright, sunny day and Larry felt like he had been in the dark since he arrived.
“What the hell is so funny?”
    “Brother
Paul set you up,” Jake forced out between breaths.
    Jake’s
words took a moment to sink into Larry’s brain. Jake just proved his earlier
suspicions. Paul had set the stage for him and Charlene.
    Larry
jabbed his hands on his hips and stared at the water as another thought plunged
into his mind. Had Paul laced the wine? Given Paul’s character, he shook his head and immediately dismissed the notion.
“No way.”
    “Having
a private