“Helllllp,” the voice pled.
Feeling helpless, Ten reached out for Ronan’s hand. Maybe together, they’d be able to help the ghost communicate better. Slowly but surely, the man began to materialize. He knew it was Kotter Brighthouse, thanks to the red-and-white striped vest, which was the clearest part of the spirit.
“Why?” Brighthouse asked.
“Why what?” Ronan asked. “Why are you here? Why are you dead?”
“Dead?” Brighthouse’s spirit nearly winked out of sight.
“He might not know he’s dead,” Ten whispered.
“How is that possible? He was the one who ended his life.”
“Right, but there could have been other forces at play. He could have been drunk, on drugs, or sick to the point he wasn’t in his right mind.” There were a lot of reasons a ghost might not know it was dead. Ten turned his attention back to the spirit. “You died over twenty years ago when you jumped off the top of the Ferris wheel. Do you remember doing that?”
“I jumped?” The voice was small and sounded unsure. “I’m dead? I don’t remember.”
“What the hell do we do now?” Ronan asked.
Ten wasn’t quite sure either. The spirit needed something, but he wasn’t sure if Brighthouse could even tell him what that thing was. “Do you have a final message for your wife or son?”
“Mary Lou,” Brighthouse whispered. “My wife. Lost. Tilt.”
“Is this about the missing money?” Ten asked, not sure if he should go this route, but he was quickly running out of suggestions.
“Didn’t steal it,” Brighthouse muttered, his form starting to fade away. “Why? Why?” With those final words, he was gone.
“Shit,” Ronan muttered. “That was about as helpful as a fart in church.”
Ten had to agree with Ronan’s assessment of the situation. “We’re not much further along than we were before Brighthouse showed up. Let’s recap. Brighthouse didn’t remember that he’d died, but he does remember his wife and the missing money, which he claims he didn’t steal.”
“It’s not much.” Ronan shook his head. “What did he mean when he said lost and tilt?”
“I’m not sure. Could be that he felt like his wife was lost to him. Maybe tilt refers to what the Ferris wheel car did before he jumped out of it?”
“Or that the truth is tilted?” Ronan frowned, looking as if he didn’t think his suggestion had any merit.
“What do we do next?” Ten asked.
Ronan scooted over so he was sitting beside Tennyson. He nuzzled his neck, dropping a string of kisses along his jawline. “I say we leave this spirit be for the time being and head up to bed. Growing boys need as much time in bed as they can get.”
Ten’s hand slid to the bulge in Ronan’s pants. “You are definitely a growing boy.”
“Getting bigger by the second.” Ronan stood and reached for Ten’s hand. “Coming?”
“Damn right I am.” Ten followed his husband up the stairs, his eyes on Ronan’s juicy ass. He was going to spend the rest of the night enjoying his husband’s talented tongue and big dick. There would be time tomorrow to figure out what to do about the dead amusement park owner.
11
Ronan
Ronan hated to admit it, but he’d fallen asleep after round one last night. In the old days, he could have gone at least three rounds, but that was before he’d had two kids and hit forty. Ten had woken up snuggly and satisfied, and in Ronan’s mind, his husband’s happiness was all that mattered.
“Happy Hooters, here we come!” Ronan shouted, buckling Ezra into his car seat. Brooke and Everly climbed into the SUV, followed by River and Deb. Ten was already belted into the passenger seat.
“Not so loud, Ronan,” Ten loud whispered. “We don’t want the neighbors to think we’re…”
“We’re what? Straight? Crazy? Fans of Hooters?” Ronan grinned broadly. “Babe, everyone who lives here knows we’re nuts.”
