Page 48 of No Surrender
“You’re adorable with sex hair, and I like the way you smell. So sue me—I’m a little possessive,” Vic returned and licked Simon’s chest for good measure.
“Don’t start that, or we’ll never get out of bed, and I’ll die from starvation.”
“I prefer to think that you had such a mind-blowing orgasm that you’re still a bit woozy.”
Simon’s stomach rumbled loudly. “Apparently my orgasm is growling.” He poked Vic lightly in the side. “C’mon. Let’s shower and go for round two. I can eat a protein bar in the car on the way to the shop.”
After they were done in the shower, Vic had enough time to make a sandwich and push it and a can of soda into Simon’s hands.
“I’m coming with you,” Vic announced, grabbing a couple of bars and a drink for himself before following Simon out the door.
“Love to have the company, but you’ve seen this tour several times. Why now?”
Vic shrugged. “Look, Judd’s on the loose out there, and we aren’t a hundred percent sure he’s behind the cursed objects. If I stay home, I won’t be able to concentrate because I’ll be worrying about you. So if I’m not going to get anything done, I might as well not do it together. If you know what I mean.”
Simon leaned in to kiss him. “I’m fine with that. Just don’t come whining to me when you’re bored.”
“I don’t whine.”
“Excuse me. I should have said bitching and moaning.”
“Bite me.”
“I just did. You’ll have to wait for round three,” Simon replied with a smirk.
* * *
Simon and Pete both led popular ghost tours but with very different styles. Pete made his a performance, complete with costumes and dramatic storytelling. Simon’s were more of a factual conversation without embellishment.
They offered several themes—pirates, historic ghosts, protective spirits. Both tourists and locals were repeat customers and happily purchased T-shirts, mugs, and other Grand Strand Ghost Tours souvenirs, along with Simon’s books.
Thanks to Dante’s coaching, Simon’s pirate and privateer tour was a big favorite, often praised for getting obscure details right. Then again, other tour guides didn’t have an ancestor ghost riding shotgun and whispering things only someone who lived at the time would know.
Tonight was a small group, only six people. That enabled Simon to customize his stories for the group’s mood and answer questions in more detail.
Vic hung back, smiling and polite, but to Simon’s eye, clearly on guard without trying to look like it. That told Simon more than any words just how concerned Vic was about everything that had been going on.
Dante kept up a running commentary in Simon’s head, feeding him answers to questions. The ghost dropped little tidbits of information that even pirate scholars would be hard-pressed to know because they were not the kind of details anyone at the time would have written down.
“I don’t know where you get your information, but you’re the most well-informed ghost tour guide we’ve ever had,” an older man told Simon.
Simon smiled. “I draw on a lot of personal accounts—journals, letters, that kind of thing. It’s almost like having someone from the period telling you all their secrets.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny,”Dante said in Simon’s mind. “I feel like a ghostwriter. Get it? Ghost-writer?”
“Over two hundred years old, and your jokes still aren’t funny.”
Simon finished up, reminded the guests to come back and try their other tours, and accepted the tips customers pressed into his hand with their thanks. When he turned around, he realized that Vic was gone.
He watched the guests scatter, heading back to their cars or walking down the boardwalk. Simon went to the store, where Pete was ringing up the last customers for the night. Vic wasn’t inside.
“Did you see Vic?”
Pete looked up. “He took off like he’d seen a ghost—pardon the pun. Headed toward the pier.”
“Do you know what he might have seen?”
Pete shook his head. “I was busy with clients. I only looked up in time to see him run off.”
