Page 5 of Treasure and Tarot

He’d thought about watching the show that was supposed to be coming to his house, but he didn’t want to be accused of trying to skew the results, and he didn’t like ghost shows, anyway. He had one at home. Right here, in living color.

“Okay, ghosts. I need you to really pull out all the stops. We need them to pay us the full amount, not just the partial.”

He’d boxed away a bunch of random personal stuff that was not fitting for the visual of a house from the 1800s.

Things like the printer and the blender and his big Waterpik that sat on the edge of the sink. Well, he hadn’t packed the Waterpik away, he’d just stuck it under the sink in the cabinet, but still, that was the idea. There was a certain amount of visualexpectation for this sort of thing. Haunted houses needed to have a certain cache.

That was one of the reasons he left his tarot cards out. He’d been reading tarot cards for a living for over a decade now, and it suited him and his schedule incredibly well.

He was good at it; he liked it. He had a dozen or so really decent clients who trusted his advice. He had a handful of one-offs, which was fine. It wasn’t a great living, but it was good enough, and it allowed him to have time to raise his baby and get outside, go skiing in the winter and hiking in the summer.

He walked over to the desk and picked out a card from his favorite deck. It was, naturally, the Tower. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? Ultimate sacrifice for ultimate power.

He looked up at the ceiling. “Look, guys, I don’t want a bunch of strangers here either, but we’ve got to do this or I’m not going to be able to keep the house. We’ve got to figure out what the hell is going on. Do you want a stranger living here? Because that’s what’s gonna end up happening. They’re going to call this the Haunted B&B, and there’s just going to be one stranger after another, over and over and over again, coming through the house, and it’s going to be your fault because y’all are being assholes. I will not risk Abby.”

The deck of cards went sliding across the table, spreading out, and one fell on the floor.

“Not impressed. Look, I said what I said. Just act up today so we can get some cash.”

Hell, maybe with a little money, he could hire some high priestess to come salt and sage the hell out of this bitch. Then he could just have a normal house like everybody else on earth. He straightened up the deck of cards and picked up the one on the floor, glanced at it—the Lovers.

No.

Sebastian was pretty sure that there wasn’t any deep meaning in that one. He wasn’t in the mood or the space for a lover right now. Maybe in fifteen years.

Maybe.

Maybe when Abby was thirty. By then, he would be too old to fall for a big adventure guy, get pregnant, and get left behind.

Right?

He wandered a little, picking up the card, putting a dish away, waiting.

Finally—and on time if he was honest—a big SUV pulled up and parallel parked on the street in front of the house. A bunch of guys spilled out, two of them carrying black bags that were generally used to house electronics. One had a big still-photo camera around his neck.

Then the passenger door opened, and a big man stepped out, a walking cane in hand. A chill shot up Sebastian’s spine, because he knew that body, even if the limp was unfamiliar. The face under the bush hat was familiar, too.

Colton Maxwell.

Nope. Sebastian shook his head, locked the front door, and went to grab his phone.

Hank picked up on the first ring. “Now, Sebastian…”

“Don’t you ‘now, Sebastian’ me. You’re supposed to be my friend. How could you do this to me?” He was shaking he was so mad.

“The money offer is real.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the money. What the hell?”

Hank was quiet for a second. “The money offer is real. All you have to do is let them film. You don’t even have to stay past the first day.”

“I’m never going to forgive you for this. What the hell? You know that…don’t you care about Abby? Seriously.” What if?What if Colton was here to take her? Colton’s parents had paid him off big to walk away and not talk about Abby to anybody.

But he hadn’t cashed the check. It was still sitting in his desk drawer as a reminder that people were assholes, and that people with money were assholes who were convinced that theycouldbe assholes.

Hank sighed softly. “Now, that’s not fair. You know, I love that little girl.”

“If you loved her, you wouldn’t have done this. I will never forgive you, not as long as I live. This was a shitty thing to do. Why would you do this to me?”

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