As the night wore on and the crowds thinned out, she’d only had to throw out two cowboys after a fight over one girl broke out. The guys in the bar always mistook Ryley for someone who didn’t know how to take care of herself. She was unassuming that way.
Kent was pouring the last of the bourbon when she passed him. “I’ll get you some more.”
“Thanks,” he called out to her retreating back.
She walked by the tables toward the basement door when a hand landed on her ass. She turned and raised a brow, looking down at the man’s crotch and shrugged. “I think I’ll pass.”
He drunkenly stumbled up out of his chair to his feet. “You bitch.”
“Yep, that’s me. Queen bitch who controls your liquor intake. Maybe you’ll remember that next time you get all handsy.” She turned toward Kent and yelled while pointing to Mr. Grabby Hands, “This one is cut off.”
She headed down into the basement and flicked the light switch, creating a soft fluorescent glow over the dusty boxes and bottles.
The scent of alcohol mingled with mildew and must. The sticky floor squeaked with each step she took. The light didn’t reach a dark corner at the end of the room, an ideal place for a spirt to linger. Or a human. Some people were afraid to go down there, even with the promise of a reward of stacked boxes of booze.
Ryley grabbed the box cutter sitting on the shelf and headed farther into the basement, bypassing boxes of unopened liquor. She stopped in front of the bourbon and sliced the tape on the top, then set the cutter aside on the nearest unopened box.
She ripped the rest of the tape off and she heard the faint sound of knocking in the darkened corner.
Bang!
This one was closer.
The air turned icy. She puffed out a breath and watched it float away. She straightened and glanced around the room. The same uneasy feeling from the bathroom had followed her down. “Come out so I can see you.”
A quick flash of movement caught her eye. Her heart raced as she abandoned the box. “Kitty, if you’re down here, I know about the affair. Both yours and his. Just tell me who killed you, and I’ll find the proof. I promise.”
The basement door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, making her jump and spin in that direction. The light sizzled and went out. She was standing in darkness with only one small rectangle of moonlight on the wall, opposite the only window in the basement.
Wind rushed behind her and with it, the feel of hands against her back, shoving her to the ground. She reached for the box to stop her fall and missed, bringing it down on top of her. The knife sitting atop the box next to it slid off and came barreling at her head. She jerked sideways just in time to avoid the blade.
“Not cool!” she called out as fear boiled into anger.
She strained to listen. More movement. The sound of boxes shifting as she tried to stand. A flash of movement at her right had her turning just in time to see the stack of boxes come crashing down over her. Her head hit the concrete as boxes of bottles broke open and rained down on her. Glass shattered as they hit the ground, sending dangerous flying shards toward her and emptying the liquor inside.
Her head throbbed and spun as she lay there, trying to catch her breath. The spilled liquor burned the scratch marks she’d gotten in Kitty’s studio. She’d been caught off guard before, but never at work and she’d never been attacked like this.
Fighting and protecting herself from the living was one thing. Protecting herself from the vengeful dead was another.
The door slammed open at the top of the stairs, and Kent came rushing down, “Ryley.”
“Stop where you are!” she yelled at him. “The light isn’t working, and there is broken glass everywhere from the bottles.”
“Crap. Hang tight, and I’ll get a flashlight.”
Ryley eased herself up, grabbing the box next to her to propel herself into an upright sitting position. Glass from her body tinkled as it hit the ground. She didn’t dare move quickly. Not in this mess.
Blood dripped from her face onto her arm, and she gingerly touched the cut, pulling a little sliver of glass from her face.
“Oh, my,” Stretch growled as she appeared.
“Better late than never,” Ryley grumbled.
“How in the world did you end up down there?”
“One of your kind was nice enough to help me,” Ryley said, picking what remained of the glass off her wet clothes and setting them onto the box.
“A ghost did this?” Stretch gasped.
“You don’t see anyone else alive down here, do you?” Ryley struggled to her feet, wincing in pain as the room spun.
She shoved boxes out of her way and moved toward the stairs but she crumpled to the floor in a daze.
A light shone on her from above, and she looked up from her hands and knees.
“Oh my God, Ryley, you’re bleeding,” Kent said. The light bounced around the room with his hurried steps as he reached her side.
“I’m not feeling too hot. Can you call me an ambulance?”
“Ryley!” Detective Jake Crews called out from the top of the stairs.
“Perfect,” she whispered. “Whatever you need will have to wait, Detective, seeing how I’m about to pass out thanks to your mother’s stalker.”
Darkness pulled her under as she slumped against Kent’s chest.
Chapter 22
Jake Crews
Jake leaned against the wall, staring at Ryley as she lay unconscious in the hospital bed. Her emergency contact had been called and was on the way. The doctor claimed she was lucky, and Jake had to agree.
There had been an outline of glass and broken alcohol where her body lay. A row of boxes had tipped over on her before she got up and crawled to the
