Page 61 of Ghostridden
“Yeah. My mom sprained her ankle, and—”
“We need to talk about the definition ofokay, Ricky, because that’s not it.”
His warm chuckle burred over the line. “She’ll be fine. She’s already home doing the whole RICE bit. I just have to step in until my cousin can get here to cover her shift.”
“Really? Another cousin?”
“What can I tell you? We’re everywhere.”
“Listen, if you’d rather reschedule—”
“Nah. The good thing about having all these cousins is that there’s always one to step into the breach.”
“As long as you’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
My gaze had remained riveted onAll Inwhile we talked, and now I reached in and lifted it carefully from its nest of bubble wrap. “You’ll never guess what I’m holding right now.”
“Uh, Maz? I’m in the middle of restaurant service. This isn’t a good time for phone sex.”
“What?” I squawked. “No. That’s not— We don’t— I wouldn’t—”
“Relax.” He chuckled again. “I know we’re not there.” His voice dropped. “Yet.”
I swallowed a couple of times and refocused. “Yes, well, anyway.”
“Tell me. What are you holding right now?”
“I can’t actually believe it, but it’s here. Oren had it the whole time. The last one. The last book written by the real Jake Fields.”
“Jake Fields isn’t real.”
That sharp comment didn’t come from the phone. It came from the family room behind me. I recognized the voice, though, and I probably shouldn’t have been as shocked as I was.
I turned slowly, hugging the book to my chest and angling my stance so I blocked the cell’s lighted screen. “Carson.”
Carson’s normally perfect hair flopped to one side, and he was scowling, breathing heavily as if he’d just sprinted for his airport gate, only to miss his flight. “Jake Fields isn’t a person. It’s a brand.”
“You’re half right. But putting that aside, I don’t recall asking you over. How did you get in?”
“I’m not a vampire. You don’t have to invite me before I can cross the threshold.” Carson’s tone dripped with derision. “The door was unlocked. Besides, I have a key.”
“You… have a key.”
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, clearly mistaking myahamoment for cluelessness. “Yes, Maz, I have a key. I’ve always had a key.”
Heat built behind my eyes. “So you lied about your access the day we met. Have you been sneaking into the house all along? Ever since Avi died?”
“What? Of course not. I’m not acriminal. I’m areal estate agent. Ifullyrespect property laws. As long as Oren was alive and the legal owner, I waited.” Impatience flickered across his face. “Although Avi could have had the decency to leave everything to me in the first place. Iamhis only living relative, and it’s not like Oren did anything with it.” His expression darkened. “At least not with thehouse. And everything would have reverted to me anyway if they couldn’t find Oren’s heir.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I’m not an expert on inheritance law, but—”
“No, you’re not an expert on anything, are you?”
The scorn in his voice rocked me back on my heels. “Excuse me?” I really hoped Ricky was hearing all this and realized Carson was seriously off the rails.
“I looked you up.” He scoffed. “Ghostwriter. What a travesty. You’re victimizing real writers.”
