She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.
Ten minutes later, they were walking through the neighborhood. The afternoon sun was warm on Rachel's shoulders, the ocean breeze cutting through the heat just enough to make it comfortable. Ghost's hand was wrapped around hers, their fingers laced together as they walked down the quiet residential street.
It was different, being outside during daylight. Yesterday's Target trip had felt exposed, dangerous. But this, walking through his neighborhood in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, felt almost normal. Like they were just a couple taking a walk. Like there weren't people actively hunting her.
They passed houses with manicured lawns, kids playing basketball in a driveway, an elderly man watering his garden. The normalcy of it all made Rachel's chest ache. This was the life other people got to have. The one she'd never let herself imagine.
"You okay?" Ghost asked, his thumb brushing across her knuckles.
"Yeah. Just... taking it in." She gestured at the neighborhood around them. "It's so peaceful here."
"That's why I bought here. After years of war zones, I needed..." He paused, searching for the word. "Quiet. I needed quiet."
They walked in silence for a while, following the curve of the street toward a small park at the end of the block. The smell of jasmine hung heavy in the air from someone's front garden. A dog barked from inside a house, followed by a woman's voice telling it to hush.
Rachel could feel her shoulders starting to relax, the tension from hours of work beginning to ease. Ghost's hand was warm in hers, his presence beside her solid and grounding.
They reached the park, just a small green space with a playground and a few benches overlooking the bay. Ghost led her to a bench in the shade of a massive eucalyptus tree. They sat, and he kept her hand in his, his thumb still moving in those slow circles that had become familiar.
"Better?" he asked.
"Yeah. You were right. I needed this."
"I'm right a lot. You should listen to me more often."
She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Don't get cocky."
He smiled and leaned back, his arm coming around her shoulders. Rachel settled against his side, watching the water in the distance. A sailboat cut across the bay, its white sail bright against the blue water.
Her phone rang.
The sound shattered the peace. Rachel's whole body tensed. She pulled the phone from her pocket, her stomach already dropping.
But it wasn't an unknown number this time.
Miles.
Her editor.
She looked at Ghost. He straightened, his expression shifting immediately from relaxed to alert. He nodded.
She answered, her heart already racing. "Miles?"
"Rachel. Jesus Christ, where the hell are you?" His voice was strained, ragged around the edges like he'd been yelling or hadn't slept. Or both.
"I'm safe. What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's—Rachel, two guys came by the office yesterday. Military. Asked a lot of questions about you. Where you were. Who you'd been talking to. What stories you were working on."
Rachel's blood went cold despite the warm afternoon sun. Her free hand gripped Ghost's thigh. "What did you tell them?"
"Nothing. I told them you were freelance, that I hadn't heard from you in weeks, and that they could fuck off without a warrant." He paused, and she heard him take a shaky breath. "But Rachel, they weren't asking. They were threatening. Said there'd be consequences if I was lying. One of them, the one with the crew cut and the dead eyes, he leaned across my desk and said, 'People who protect criminals become criminals themselves.' Like some mob shit."
Ghost's jaw tightened. His hand covered hers where it gripped his leg.
"Miles, listen to me." Rachel kept her voice calm despite the panic clawing at her chest. "Those men are not the good guys. They'repart of what I've been investigating. If they come back, you call a lawyer. You don't talk to them. You understand?"
"Rachel, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"
