Setting aside the fact he was playing spymaster, I wondered, “What happened to the original bug?”
“Filth.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and unfolded the halves to expose a tiny device staining the fabric brownish-red. “He must have tossed a can or container in the back that jarred it loose. Some combination of pizza sauce and energy drink fried its circuits.” He rewrapped it and tucked it into his pocket. “I was more careful with placement this time, and the casing is waterproof.”
“Boys and their toys.” I bumped shoulders with him. “You’re kinda cute when you go all James Bond.”
“I didn’t tell you.” The curtain of his dark-auburn hair swung forward, hiding his expression. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not going to shake a finger at you and call you a liar if you forget to clue me in every now and then. You’re used to working alone, making your own decisions, and acting on them.” Easing my fingers through the silky length, I tucked a few strands behind his ear. “Don’t hold back with me about us, and I’m good.”
The way he palmed his nape and rubbed like he had narrowly avoided stretching his neck over the executioner’s block broke my heart. “It’s hard for me, letting you in.”
“I know.” I took his hand. “It’s not exactly easy for me, either.” I laced our fingers. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I have something to show you.” He searched the street one last time. “Promise you’ll let me explain before the screaming and hitting starts.” He ducked his head. “It’s not a gift, really.”
“Oh, goddess.” Dollar signs flashed in my mind’s eye. Linus might be getting better about showing his affection rather than buying it, but if he was warning me, he must have spent big. “This is going nowhere good.”
“Will you come with me?” His hesitation was priceless. “It’s not far.”
“I might as well.” I bit back a laugh. “I’m curious what’s put that look on your face.”
The last time he looked this particular combination of anxious and excited, he gave me Eileen.
We crossed left onto East Congress Street then took a right on Abercorn Street. On the corner of Abercorn and East Park Avenue sat a two-story house turned business with faded blue clapboard siding that had seen better days. A realtor’s sign stapled to the power pole out front read SOLD in red letters.
The bottom fell out of my stomach. “Tell me you didn’t buy that house.”
“I did.”
“You said it’s not a gift.”
“It’s not.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Technically,” he amended, “it’s not for you.”
“Then technically, who is it for?”
“Me.”
“You bought a house in Savannah?” I frowned at the eyesore. “That house?”
The address promised he had paid at least a half million dollars for the location, but the house itself was in sad condition. Only a significant cash infusion could save it, and love. Lots of love.
The keys jingled when he removed them from his pocket and unlocked the front door.
“The downstairs was originally an art gallery, but it’s been remodeled and reimagined several times over the years.” He glanced back at me. “Upstairs is a fully renovated two-bedroom, one-bath living area.”
“Are you…?” I stepped back, almost into the street. “Are you moving out?”
Our living arrangement had nothing to do with our relationship. Us sharing a roof, or at least a property, was a condition his mother insisted on. There was no reason to feel rejected, but I did. Just a smidgen.
“What?” Fumbling the knob, he dropped the keys. “No. Of course not. Nothing like that.” He crossed to me and set his hands on my shoulders. “I’m doing this all wrong.”
I sucked in a breath, expecting the worst. “Spell it out for me.”
“You’ve been lost lately.”
Cutting ties with the Haints had left me adrift, true, but I had found new purpose in rededicating myself to my studies, to my past, and to my city.
No.
This city.
Savannah wasn’t mine. My home, yes. But mine? One potentate in this relationship was plenty.
“Okay,” I said, “so far I’m following you.”
“You loved being a Haint, and I thought…” His arms fell to his sides. “What would you think of starting your own ghost tour company?”
“Competing with Cricket?” The blood drained from my face. “To quit on her then open my own business feels like a betrayal.”
Linus nodded like I had stuck to his mental script. “What if you didn’t have to compete with Cricket?”
“How do you figure that’s possible? She’s cornered the market in walking tours downtown, and the Cora Ann is a huge success. What’s left that’s not in direct competition with her?”
“What if you specialized in…the truth?” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “You tell historically accurate stories from the human perspective. Why not tell a niche clientele what actually happened at a select few locations throughout the city?”
As much as the scope of the project overwhelmed me, I couldn’t deny the flutters in my belly.
“The Society would have a cow.” The reality of presenting the idea for his mother’s approval left me cold. “They would never let me share necromantic history with the masses.”
“Not the masses,” he corrected. “Vampires, necromancers, witches, gwyllgi, wargs, and whoever else is willing to pay twenty-five dollars for a two-hour walking tour led by none other than Dame Woolworth herself.”
I didn’t notice I was wiggling in a happy dance until he started laughing under his breath.
“Incoming,” I shouted and flung myself at him. “I cannot believe you did this for me.”
Linus caught me, a hint of his tattered cloak exploding from his back as his eyes shot wide. “Oomph.”
Arms cinched around his neck, I screamed, “Early-warning system activate.”
“It’s too late to activate.” He laughed. “You already launched.”
Raining kisses over his face, I hung on tight, climbing him like kudzu until he wore me like an apron.
“What am I going to call it? Oooh. What about a theme?” I chewed my bottom lip. “Not Southern belle, but a costume. Something to set us apart. Too copycat? Allowable? What do you think?”
Face buried in my neck, he murmured, “I love…your enthusiasm.”
Lips pressed against his throat, I murmured back, “I love…your thoughtfulness.”
“Let’s go shower.”
“Are you serious?” I fluttered my lashes. “Do you think buying me a building is all it takes to get me naked?”
Linus flushed so hot, so fast, he turned purple beneath his freckles. “That’s not why I—”
“You think I don’t know that?” I cupped his face between my palms. “I’m teasing.”
“There’s something I need to confess.” He covered my hands with his. “I…”
The warmth fled his expression, black swallowing his eyes as he zoned out on me.
“Cletus checking in?” I released him and shimmied down his body to my feet, not expecting an answer.
“Hood has showered and changed. All traces of bronze powder have been erased. He’s with the second driver, in a clean vehicle, and they’ve picked up Lethe.”
A buzz in my back pocket caught my attention, and I whipped out my phone. “Crap.”
Linus came back to awareness. “What’s wrong?”
“Lethe shot me a text to remind me since she’s gone, Woolly and Oscar are babysitting Corbin alone.”
That meant no more teasing Linus and no more grand tour. We had to get home.
“We can use the upstairs shower and change clothes to decontaminate ourselves. You can go first.” He led the way into the building, through the cavernous downstairs with poured concrete floors that echoed with our footsteps, and up the black metal stairs near the back. A few steps past the landing, he indicated a small bathroom with clean towels stacked on the lip of the sink. A few still had price stickers. “There’s a shop a few buildings down. I’ll procure us clothing and then work on transportation.”
“Should you do that before you shower? Won’t you just transfer the powder?”
Replaying it in my head, it sounded like I was offering to let him join me, and he must have thought so too if the tips of his ears reddening were any indication.
“I’ll give them our sizes and have someone else bag my selections. That ought to minimize any cross contamination.”
I trailed my fingers over the terrycloth. “Did you stock the place yourself?”
His gaze touched on the shampoo and soap in the shower, both his favorite brands. “I did.”
“Hmm.”
He followed me one step into the room. “What does that mean?”
“You expected to shower here?” I noticed the other things then. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant.
“Work,” he said, and his eyes went distant. “Some nights I wash it off before I go home.”
“Even in Savannah?” Lately, we tromped home together, dirty or otherwise.
“Especially in Savannah,” he said, voice soft as he left.
The reminder that secrets lingered between us shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but there you go.
I got naked, eager to drown the carousel of thoughts circling through my head under the shower.
Having full control of the water was odd. The lack of running commentary was peculiar too. I didn’t like it much. I was too used to having Woolly in my head, her presence a vibrant spark that brightened my days. This building felt like a brick-encased corpse by comparison.