Page 12 of Ghost Hunted

“I really fucking hope not,” I cut in. “That’s a recipe for disaster. I just know you’d somehow manage to shoot yourself.”

“Don’t worry, it’s only blanks,” says Quill. “She can’t shoot straight to save her life.”

“What? Quill!” Piper looks furious. “You didn’t tell me that. And that’s not true. I did shoot that tin can…”

“But not the right one, cricket. I had a dozen tin cans lined up, and you shot the second one in the line. You were supposed to shoot the one five cans over.”

“Whatever.” She topples onto the couch Quill had left to comfort her, and he quickly sits beside her, pulling her up and making her sit on his lap instead.

“Quill…” she protests, but he puts a palm over her mouth.

“Be a good girl, Piper, and let the men talk.”

“Fmmphhh you,” she grumbles, but she lets him guide her against his chest all the same, and closes her eyes, snuggling into him.

“We’ll go to Ireland with you,” says Quill quietly, as if he’s the one deciding. “I won’t take my eyes off her. She’ll be fine.”

“She’d better be,” I grunt. “She’d better be, Quill, or I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

“Mmmph!” protests Piper from behind Quill’s hand.

“If anything happened to her, it’s only because I’d already be dead,” counters Quill.

“Right.” I grab my phone, dialing Everest’s number so he can get us a plane. “Let’s all try not to die. I’ll have enough work as it is…”

I don’t finish my thought, but I know Quill, at least, understands.

…Killing whoever’s pretending to be Lia.

3

Logan

“We’re going to have to figure this shit out.” Quill’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. “We need to think.”

“We? I don’t believe you know how to think. Let the adult work out the plan, okay?”

He scowls at me. “I do know how to think, when it comes to Piper.”

“Uh huh.” I close my eyes, trying to ignore him. The plane touches down in less than thirty minutes, and throughout the more than six hours of flight, I have not in fact thought of a single plan.

I’ve been far too busy suffering.

“You can’t just go off to meet the impersonator yourself,” he insists. “Whoever it is won’t show themselves to you. Anyway, I think Fake Lia is weak, or she wouldn’t go through the trouble of trying to ambush Piper. There’s no risk in letting her get what she wants… at first. She can meet with Piper.”

“You can’t seriously be suggesting that I let my daughter walk into that trap alone,” I say in exasperation.

“It’s not a trap,” Piper insists, from her position that seems to have become permanent on Quill’s lap.

“Shh, cricket,” he murmurs, putting his palm back on her mouth, where it also seems to have spent a lot of time.

Now, though, she struggles away from it.

“Quill,” she huffs, “you’re being controlling. You can’t just shut me up like that. I’m not a doll. And I have things to say.”

“I like hearing you say things,” he tells her, drawing circles on her back and speaking in a voice I can tell he believes is placating. “I just don’t like listening to what you say.”

“Quill!”