Page 5 of Ghost Hunted

“Yeah. Not a threat. I mean, Moretti’s dead too, and we once thought that threat was gone, but…”

“No,” I interrupt. “We never thought that, otherwise Piper could have come home.” My voice sounds strangled. “We wouldn’t have kept pretending she was dead if we truly believed there was no threat. Instead, I’ve had to keep my distance from her all these years, while listening to you talk about how you’d happily kill her.”

“I didn’t talk about how I’d happily kill her,” objects Damien. “I joked about how I’d happily kill her.”

“Right.” I close my eyes, the painful subject making my head ache.

“Besides, she is a threat to Devil. She’s the reason the mafia became a problem earlier this year. And don’t think you succeeded in beating them for good. Word on the street is, some of those fuckers are still around. They just won’t die, but they’ve changed. Joined a new gang. Things are about to get real fucking weird. Regardless, I didn’t kill your daughter. Did I?”

“No,” I allow.

“You’re too serious, man. I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t. What’s the fun in living if you can’t joke around a little?”

“I don’t know, Damien.” I huff out a weary sigh. “What would you do if I joked about killing your girl? About killing Seraphina?”

“Kill you for real, probably.” He blinks at me lazily, as if entirely unaware of how much of a hypocrite he is.

“Right.” I lean in, ready to end the call, because I’m tired. He makes me tired. “Anyway, I have to go. Keep spending your days fucking your girl, and let me deal with whatever weird new situation we’re facing, according to you.”

“Well, well.” He smirks. “Look who’s all grown up now. Sure, I’ll let you handle it. I’m on to bigger and better things…”

“I wouldn’t exactly call Seraphina bigger and better. More like smaller and—”

All trace of humor vanishes from his eyes, replaced by danger. But he takes a deep breath and it’s hidden by a thin varnish of humor. I know that look well, because it’s the one I’ve been wearing for the past eighteen years.

“Alright. Don’t you want to know what I’m really calling about?”

“No, not really,” I tell him.

“Well, since you asked, it’s about Emilio Cabello…”

My phone buzzes again, and when I peek at the screen, I see it’s Piper.

She doesn’t call often. She knows she’s supposed to be in hiding, and the phone is only for emergencies. Of course, given how chatty my daughter is, and how oblivious she is to danger, she does in fact call me every so often. And her version of an emergency ranges from needing me to send her more books because she’s read everything she has, to relaying all-important gossip from the town within her safety perimeter.

I’ve probably gotten a little too lax with safety, because I allow the calls. But, after all, I did beat the mafia. Coltello is dead. Even if Damien’s right and a few of the old mobsters are still around, forming a new gang... so what?

Obviously, I know there’s still some danger, or I wouldn’t insist on Piper remaining in Oregon. It’s like Damien said—things have changed, and that’s what worries me. I can’t keep tabs on our enemies like I used to. Something’s off, and I don’t know what. And that’s scary as hell.

Still, it would be too hard to never hear my daughter’s voice, especially after more than eighteen years of watching her from a distance. So, even though I know I shouldn’t, I pick up each of her calls, and never reprimand her for them.

But one thing she doesn’t do is call me twice in a row.

“Alright, Damien. I don’t give a shit about Emilio Cabello and his sorry ass stuck in Italy, and I have to go. See ya.” I hang up the call before he has time to say anything more, then answer Piper.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Logan? Uhm… sorry to bother you, but I just got a very important clue…”

I chuckle at my mystery-loving daughter. “I’m on a call. Or was. Can this wait?”

“No, not really.” She clears her throat. “It’s about… my mom.”

“Okay,” I say patiently, drumming my fingers as I wait for her to talk to me about Laura Day, the woman I handed her off to eighteen years ago, temporarily, I’d hoped. But by the time the mafia had backed down, she was eight years old and firmly believed her name was Piper. How could I possibly take her away from the woman she’d grown up thinking was her mother?

I couldn’t, especially since I didn’t know how long I’d be able to keep her with me.

But last year, Piper’s adoptive parents died. I didn’t have a choice. I told Piper everything, but then, I had to send her to another safe house across the country, separating myself from her yet again to protect her.