Page 12 of Into the Fire

“And the Mob?” Ross asked.

“Simon raised some suspicions, and I found police reports,” Vic said. “The gambling ran all year, especially in the off-season. Of course, the betting led to owing the Mob money, which meant extortion, blackmail, and all the other crimes that go along with it. Several suicides chalked up to owing the wrong people, and a few suspicious deaths that might have been hits.”

“More ghosts,” Ross filled in.

“Yep. The Mob angle seems like it dried up in the 1970s, and the hotel appears to have stayed clean since then,” Vic said. “That’s also about the time Simon figures that the ghost did the hotel owners a big bailout that set them up for their current success.”

“What made the ghost go away?” Ross was taking this in like a new thriller movie plot.

“We don’t know for sure. Simon’s theory is that the Sandersons double-crossed the ghost and found a way to temporarily stop it somehow, but they were so sure they wouldn’t ever have to do it again that there isn’t a record of how it was done. Assuming our suspicions are correct.”

“If you’re right, then it would be doubly angry when it got free.”

“Seems logical,” Vic agreed. “I thought I’d go talk to James Donaldson tomorrow and see if he remembers anything from when he was on the force.”

“He’s been retired for a while,” Ross said. “He might like being out of the fray.”

“I’m not asking him to do anything except see what he remembers,” Vic replied. “Might be a total bust, or there could be something useful.”

“How late are you going to work?” Ross asked, and Vic glanced at the time.

“Shit, it’s already later than I planned to stay. Simon and I are going to order in dinner, watch one of the new movies that’s streaming, and try to remember how to be newlyweds.” Vic gathered his phone, wallet, and essentials into his backpack before he saved his files and shut down his computer.

“I’m always happy to contribute to marital bliss,” Ross said with a grin. “Sheila gets grumpy when I’m not on an urgent case, and I still stay late. Learn from my mistakes.”

“I owe you a beer.” Vic headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

In the car, Vic called in a delivery order of their favorite Thai meals and texted Simon to let him know he was on his way.

Simon had the adorably frazzled look he often wore right after getting home from work, a mix of tiredness and shifting focus.

“Rough day?” Vic asked.

“I’ve had worse.” Simon cradled a freshly made cup of hot tea in both hands. “Still trying to figure out how I somehow ended up with the Ocean Visions legacy in my lap.”

Vic moved behind Simon and started to massage his shoulders. “That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sent Sanderson your way.”

Simon shook his head. “No, you did the right thing. It sounds as if he tried to get help elsewhere, and they let him down. And if it were a normal haunting, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But the spirit causing the trouble isn’t a regular ghost, and it poses a danger to the community. That’s different from the usual troublesome haunting.”

“Let’s not talk about Sanderson or ghosts or the hotel tonight,” Vic urged, dropping his voice to a sexy growl. “Dinner’s on the way. Let’s eat and watch something and fool around.”

Simon set his mug aside and turned to take Vic in his arms. “Sounds perfect.” He leaned in for a long, slow kiss. The doorbell interrupted their clinch, and they stepped back, rumpled and a little breathless.

“Later.” Vic sealed the promise with a peck on the lips before he went to get their dinner order.

Vic did his best to keep conversation light as they ate, steering away from anything to do with the hotel situation. He didn’t need to be a psychic to tell that Simon felt stressed and responsible for finding a solution. Vic also knew that Simon would push himself until he collapsed out of a sense of duty, and he swore to do his best to help carry the load and keep Simon from burning out.

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I unpacked my meal.” Vic noticed he had already eaten more than half of his food, but a glance told him that Simon had barely touched his own.

“I know I should eat,” Simon replied, either guessing Vic’s thoughts or picking up on them through their bond. “I’m just not hungry.”

“The food will keep,” Vic assured him. “Would chicken soup land better in your stomach?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah, probably.”

Vic pushed his chair back from the table. “Okay. Pack up your meal, and I’ll make you soup with crackers. You’re going to need the energy.”

Simon gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you. You’re the best husband ever.”