Page 110 of Ghost Hunted

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“Logan! Fuck! I hate you! Fuck!”

“Shh, Lia. It’s nothing. I can explain...”

“You promised, Logan. You promised!”

“I did. A few locks on the windows don’t mean I’m taking away your freedom. Right? I just don’t want you to...”

“To what, Logan?” she snaps, her face red with a mix of pain and anger.

“To fall,” I finish helplessly. “Imagine tripping over a cord, and then, bam...”

She rolls her eyes, or at least tries to, before dumping the bag full of designer clothes I bought her onto the bed. “You’re locking me in, Logan.”

“I’m not.” I reach my arms awkwardly around her, trying to find a way to hug her without hurting her. “This wasn’t even my idea. Ask anyone. There are precautions to take in situations like these. Just until we’re sure that you’re absolutely fine. It has nothing to do with freedom. When someone has... well... hurt herself like you have, it’s normal to lock windows, remove scissors, razors...”

She glares at me. “How the hell am I supposed to shave, then? You really want a hairy girl between the sheets?”

Chuckling, I sit down on the bed and pull her down gently onto my lap. Then I stroke all the way up her sides and she jerks when my fingers caress her decidedly hairy armpits. “Ow! Asshole! My neck hurts!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a ticklish baby,” I tease her, stroking more insistently over her armpits and causing her to jerk around more. “I just wanted to see the hair situation for myself. Damn, you are a hairy girl, aren’t you? Bet I could braid that shit.”

She lets out a tiny giggle. “Logan, stop!” Her face grows red as she tries to hold her neck still while I torture her, and when I at last take pity on her, she lets out a shuddering sigh of relief.

“Fuck, baby.” I let my fingers trail toward her bellybutton and dip under her jeans. “Fuck, I need you. This is killing me. Not... literally, of course.”

“I hate you,” she says again, though I can tell she’s struggling not to laugh. “But you know, I wouldn’t mind...” She clears her throat. “I mean, I hate you, but I wouldn’t hate it if you let me come.”

“Hmm.” I take a deep breath to move past my own frustration. “Not while you’re like this. You’re in a lot of pain, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, but Logan,” she pleads, “you wouldn’t hurt me! Please, I really want to...” She squirms in my lap, and the feel of her thick ass against my cock nearly makes me groan.

“Just touching your armpits hurt you, baby. Be reasonable.”

“That’s different,” she protests. “I’m just ticklish. I’ll be very still, I promise. I won’t move a muscle, and...”

“Hell no.” I slide her gently off my lap. “There’s no way you could possibly stay still with me fucking you. We’re going to wait until your neck brace is off. And when that day comes... well, so will you.”

35

Logan

The wait is just as hard for me as it seems to be for her.

But at least, I have something to occupy myself with.

Something other than trying to handle my increasingly disgruntled ghost girl. Although it’s definitely been a full-time job to keep her from thinking too much about the locked windows, to come up with reasons for keeping her inside, and to make sure she doesn’t find out about the cameras installed everywhere in the apartment.

Beyond that, all my remaining energy has been focused on the DNA tests.

We soon discovered that the initial plates Damien took from the social worker’s apartment had been contaminated. We’d had to send some guys back to retrieve more dirty dishes, and by then, the apartment had been cleaned. Luckily, the cleaning service hadn’t done a great job, but still, it took time to find a useable sample.

Now, at last, the sample has been collected, the tests have been run, and for the past hour, I’ve been staring at the text message Everest sent me, trying to wrap my mind around its meaning.

DNA results are in. She’s your daughter, Logan.

I have a daughter. And I find it out after I’ve already lost her.