Billionaire Ghost Tour - Stephanie Fowers Page 0,35

his emotions had been all over the place, and kissing her had just felt like the right thing to do. Her soft, pliable lips were the last ones he wanted to taste before he was dragged to his death. His only regret was that she’d now share his fate.

He’d fight for her, whether she believed him when he said it or not. His whole body was stuck in survival mode anyway—he might as well use his adrenaline for something. Mollie pulled out her keys from the pocket of her cute lacy dress. Vin wrestled them from her, like he thought she might throw them down the stairs.

Vin spent the next ten minutes trying to get the door open before he surrendered them to Mollie again. She got the door open in an instant. “Get in,” Vin roared out in frustration. He ripped out his gun from his holster and marched them into a room that was much like the Ghost Tour reception area, with a dark green velvet curtain and a glass case of ghost tour knickknacks for sale. These walls were painted black.

Mollie headed for her desk. “Where are you going?” Vin asked roughly.

“I’m getting a key for the door.”

“No, you don’t. I’ll get it. Tell me where it’s at.”

“Top right drawer.” She seemed a little deflated, and Janson realized Vin had guessed that she was going for more than a key. Spunky girl, though his bodyguards were trained better than that. Vin fetched a ring of keys from the desk and gestured with his gun for Mollie to take the lead to the catacombs.

Feeling strangely like they were stuck in a haunted house, Janson followed Molly through a hidden entrance that took them through a narrow hallway to a black door. This time, Vin let her unlock it on her own and they stepped into blackness before she switched on the lights.

A chandelier sputtered to life in a chamber that belonged to the Phantom of the Opera... or to a generous backstage area, because they seemed to have plenty of props for a play in there. A set of curtains divided the room into sections. Newspaper clippings of the failed bank robbery from the ’20s were blown up and framed on the walls. In one article, all the citizens of Eureka Springs were gathered around the bullet-riddled getaway car. In the other story, they had propped up poor dead Cy Wilson’s corpse—obviously they’d had different publishing standards back then.

There was a fine layer of dust over every bare surface, and a musty odor. Windows against the back of the room showed tunnels of rock lit up with purple and red lights. An elaborate bookcase in the middle of the room had a door that led to a not-so-secret entrance to the catacombs.

Janson couldn’t breathe in here.

In the silence, Mollie threw her hands behind her back, playing with her fingers. Vin turned sharply. “What are you hiding there?” Now that he’d shed the silent role of the bodyguard, he was a few decibels too loud. “You still wearing his ring?” Vin bellowed out a shout of laughter. “You must’ve thought you really hit the jackpot. What a gold digger. How about I show you how much that’s really worth?” He seized her arm and she jerked away. Vin didn’t like that. Growling low under his breath, he came at her like a man used to bullying his way through sheer force, viciously yanking back her arm like she weighed no more than a ragdoll. Mollie let out a pained cry.

The room felt like it was tilting as Janson’s rage shot to every part of his body. Vin’s fist rose to strike Mollie, and Janson lunged, landing against Vin and knocking him away from her. Vin twisted around, his face red like a pit viper, his eyes promising vengeance. “Run,” Janson warned her. “Go!” Vin’s fist caught him in the arm and went to his stomach with a blow that took him to his knees. Janson felt Vin’s knuckles swipe across his face next. Mollie ran to the door, but Dwayne easily plucked her from the stairs and carried her back down, kicking and screaming. These guys were trained Navy Seals. They had guns as well. Janson was hopelessly outclassed. He held his aching stomach, feeling like he was going to throw up. His left arm felt numb. His body shaking from the threat of being trapped wasn’t helping either. “Who are you working with?” he rasped. “My stepmother? I