Ghost Redeemed

By Mary Winter

He never thought he’d get a second chance. At life, or love...

FBI Agent Kyle Denison knew he’d done some bad things in his life and in the afterlife. Now the Fates have brought him back and the only thing on his mind is going back to the woman he’d loved and making things right.

Except she’s dead. And he’s falling hard for her best friend.

ShayLynn Cartland doesn’t believe her best friend committed suicide. She vows to get to the bottom of things even if it means going against a very hunky ghost who doesn’t want her in danger. Shay knows how to handle ghosts. Falling in love with one who makes her feel things no other man-living or dead-has, is another matter entirely.

This book is a rereleased version of a book by the same title. It has been revised and updated, though is not substantially changed from the previous version.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Winter
• Release date: May 30, 2016

Book preview

Ghost Redeemed

By Mary Winter

Copyright 2008 by Mary Winter

ISBN# 978-0-9820050-9-5

Smashwords edition published by Pink Petal Books at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Permission is granted to make ONE backup copy for archival purposes.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Prologue

Six years ago

Drizzle collected on the collar of Kyle Denison’s coat. Icy fingers of water slid down his back, no colder than the trepidation filling him. Somewhere in the inky blackness people watched him. Most definitely Sage Kaimoon, for his former partner wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by. Perhaps others, probably an entire SWAT team, waited for the signal. If he hadn’t been chilled by the rain, then his fear would have done so. So much rested on this transaction.

Do you have the money? he asked the Frenchman standing across from him.

Lu-Marc hated America and everything for which it stood. The secrets contained in the envelope, while mostly harmless, would appease him and give Kyle enough money to take Marcy far away from here. Kyle wiped rain from his brow and resisted the urge to look around.

Lu-Marc grinned and patted his silver briefcase. Do you have the documents? I have waited a long time for this information. In contrast to Kyle’s worry, Lu-Marc stood as cool as an arctic glacier. He paid no attention to the weather or the surroundings.

Kyle frowned. He supposed Lu-Marc stood on drizzly docks and bought information all the time. Kyle wanted this done and over with. A night like this made him think of being back in his warm bed, Marcy’s willing body curled beside his. I want my money before you get the documents. He’d be damned if Lu-Marc would take the secrets and flee.

Lu-Marc chuckled. As you wish. He handed over the suitcase.

No sooner had Kyle closed his fingers around the heavy handle than his instincts went on alert. He hefted the weight of the suitcase, wishing he could shove his own briefcase into Lu-Marc’s waiting hands and run. The hair on the back of his neck rose. A sting. And he’d walked right into it.

Kyle opened his briefcase and handed over a thick envelope. He tried to smile, wished he could be happier.

Special Agent Kaimoon. Get those hands up! Sage yelled as he pivoted into the clearing.

Kyle stared down the barrel of Sage’s Glock 9mm. He reached into his coat, determined not to die. He didn’t want to shoot Sage, not his partner, his best friend.

Gunfire echoed around him.

Instinct took over. Kyle pointed and fired. Pain tore through him. He gasped, doubling over. He rose, staggering. On his chest, a red stain blossomed. Blood sprayed everywhere. He opened his mouth. The need to deny his wound, to claim he wouldn’t die, pounded through him. He gaped like a fish, then fell. Kyle squeezed his eyes closed, the concrete rising to meet him. He slammed into the damp, unyielding surface. Air whooshed from his lungs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lu-Marc fall, then Sage.

Pain flared, then died. His body vibrated and twanged, like a kid plunking strings on a guitar. When he opened his eyes, he looked down at his body.

I’m dead.

Shock rendered him immobile. Medics looked at his body, checked his pulse, then shook their heads and walked away. They clustered around Sage, unwilling to let him get away. Kyle bit his lip, grief pulling tears from his face. He’d never see Marcy again, never touch her. He’d screwed up, and done so in spades.

I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to go bad. I only wanted to give Marcy everything she wanted. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Now I never will. He swallowed hard and tried to reconcile himself with the fact that he’d fucked up.

A figure walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Kyle looked up at the very last man he expected to see. Sage! What are you doing here? You killed me! He yanked away, not wanting to share his shame with anyone. Sage looked down at him, a look of sorrow on his face. With a shrug, he turned and walked away.

Kyle watched him leave, his heart heavy in his chest. He’d planned, schemed, done it all for a life he’d never have.

Kyle rose to his feet. He’d lived and died as a criminal. Watching Lu-Marc race across the docks, he knew what he had to do.

~* * *~

Nearly two years ago

Love does strange things to a man. Watching Sage with Teri, Kyle hated his job. After he had died, he thought working for Lu-Marc would be what he should do. It was how he died, and he expected his afterlife to follow his life. After all, he’d lost his life working for him. Spending his afterlife working for the traitor was better than simply not existing. Immediately after his death, he doubted the good guys would have wanted him on his side. And now, if he had to go out, he’d do it right. He hurried down the hall. He refused to protect his boss, but he could help Teri and Sage get away. They deserved a life together, happiness, the kind of happiness he’d never be able to find ever again.

Kyle rounded the corner. Gunshots echoed, and once more pain blasted through his chest. Damn it! He staggered back, eyes dropping to the gunshot wound on his chest. Not again! He cupped his hands over it and knew he’d failed. Beside him, his partner struggled to keep his balance, balanced precariously as he was on the edge of the stairs.

Kyle stumbled backwards. His foot flailed, seeking purchase on the stairs. He met only empty air. Stepping backwards, Kyle fell down the stairs. He tumbled, feet over head, the impact forcing pain through his body. Above him he heard the sounds of a scuffle and knew, whatever happened, his part had ended.

Kyle lay sprawled at the foot of the stairs. He’d failed. Killed in life, his afterlife ended. His one regret—not finding the love Sage seemed to have found.

~* * *~

Present day

Silence filled the old warehouse. Kyle lay sprawled at the base of the steps. Blood spilled from a fresh bullet wound to the right of an older wound. The button-down, light blue, short-sleeved shirt, the exact shade as his eyes, looked better suited to a business meeting than a murder. Only it hadn’t been murder, but self-defense.

The body had no company, though dimpled walls bespoke of a gun battle that had filled the hallway with ricocheting bullets. Water dripped from a stained ceiling tile down the hall, a steady drop, drop to invade the silence. Not even a rat coursed through these halls, nor would any want to. The place held a taint of evil. The smell of scorched flesh hung in the air.

The body jerked. Had it needed air, it might have gasped. Instead, the muscles convulsed at once, bowing his back off the cold, chipped linoleum floor. Eyes flew open.

Oh, God, the man groaned. He lifted a shaky finger to touch the sticky bullet wound. Memories came rushing back. He struggled to a seated position and realized he didn’t know who he was.

He frowned and leaned against the wall. Lifting his hand, he stared at it, noticing the translucent quality to his fingers. His entire body glowed with some kind of unearthly light. What the hell? He looked around, fumbling as he realized he fell through the wall.

Suddenly, he knew who he was, what he was. Sage had killed him—twice. The second time two years ago, in this very building.

Kyle wobbled to his feet as more memories came back. He swallowed hard and stared at the empty walls. Someone had brought him back. He knew it, deep in his soul where hunches and intuition lived, he knew someone had brought him back from the dead. After his spirit had died, he’d ceased to exist. Remembered nothing until this moment. Why? I was dead, gone. Why not let me rest in peace? He didn’t fear being heard, though he knew this building once crawled with Lu-Marc’s operatives. They were all dead now, or gone at any rate. He heard nothing, and had anyone been around, he doubted they would have left his rotting corpse in the hallway, except ghosts didn’t leave corpses. Why didn’t you just let me die?

Do you want to? The question hung in the air, spoken by a feminine, ethereal voice.

Kyle whirled around. He saw nothing. He never used to believe in God, or in heaven and hell. But then, after seeing Teri and Sage he wanted what they had. He wanted a second chance. I don’t want to die. He didn’t, not that much anyway. No, he wanted to go back to Marcy, to make things right. To explain. If he could, dear God, he just wanted to explain why he did the things he did and make them right. Goddess. Whoever you are, I promise. If you let me live, even as a ghost, I’ll make things right with Marcy. I hurt her, and I’m sorry for that, but I won’t hurt her a second time. I know I fucked up. I know I deserve to die, but if you give me this chance, I won’t mess up anymore. I promise.

Why should we give such a gift to you?

He saw them, the spectral form of three women hovering at the end of the hallway. A young woman spun out yarn then handed it to an older woman to weave into a loom. A much older woman snipped threads with a pair of scissors. All three seemed to be speaking in unison. The Fates? The Muses? Hell, he didn’t know. They didn’t teach mythology at Quantico. Whoever they were, he didn’t want to insult them.

I don’t know, Kyle said at last. I sure as hell probably don’t deserve it. But I’m here, and you’re here, and I want to make things right. Just let me go back to Marcy and explain. I don’t know what kind of life we could have together. I’m a ghost and all. But I could explain. And if she’s happy with that other man, I’ll let her be happy. But if she’s not, or she’s alone, then I want to be the one for her. I want to love her until death do us part, forever and ever, in this life and in the next. I want us to be the way we were.

You can’t go back to what you once were. The eldest woman snipped off another thread, a short one, and knotted it into the tapestry.

I know that. And things have happened. Sage, he’s… Kyle gestured, at a loss for words to explain how Sage had found Teri, and love, even though he was a ghost. Kyle growled, frustrated with trying to wrap his mind around concepts he had no inkling of when he was alive. Sage has Teri, he said at last. It can happen. I know it can. The last he’d seen of his friend and former partner, Sage still lived as much as any ghost could. Kyle hoped Sage had killed Lu-Marc. He hoped his former partner made it out of there, away from all this.

The boy loves. The young woman handed a skein of thread to the middle woman.

The boy speaks truly, she said as she wove the thread into the tapestry.

Please, Kyle begged. He’d never begged for anything before in his life, except for maybe release at Marcy’s hands, or lips, or tongue. He groaned and fought to keep his mind on track. Please, if you have the power to bring me back, then do so. For my sake. He shook his head. For Marcy’s sake.

The older woman shook her head. Laws cannot be bent at your will, young man. She studied her tapestry and grinned sadly. But in light of everything, if it is life you seek, then it is life you shall have.

Would you return him to what he now has? What he has lost? the middle woman spoke, shaking her head at the threads in her lap. He wants to go back to the past, but it’s changed. It all has changed.

Would you deny him love? the younger woman spoke. It would be cruel to deny him love.

Kyle’s heart leapt. The way the women spoke, it sounded as if he couldn’t go back to Marcy. But the younger Fate’s words filled him with hope. He refused to beg. He’d done that once and wouldn’t do it again. His spectral body faded, waving in and out like a dying television set. Is this the end? He stared at the two women. Am I dying?

You’re already dead. The chill in the older woman’s voice startled him. You should know that, for you saw your own grave. You don’t deserve a second chance at life. Your actions speak louder than your words.

Her harsh words cut him, reminding him of his failures. He knew, deep in his heart, that he’d done some horrible things. He could atone. Dimly he remembered Sunday school as a child, learning about forgiveness and love. If he had a chance, Kyle knew he could right his wrongs.

The boy is noble. Should we not let him see what he can do with this second chance? The younger woman handed over another string, a long one, and the middle woman smiled as she wove it into her tapestry. After all, there have been others. It has happened.

But just because it’s happened doesn’t mean it needs to happen again, and certainly not for the likes of him. The eldest frowned.

Wait! How can you say such things? I know I’ve done wrong. I won’t deny my past. Hell, it got me into this situation, but I’m telling you, I’m not Lu-Marc’s man anymore. All I want is to go back to Marcy and try to make things right. No illegal activities. I learned my lesson. Rich or poor, I’ll take her, and we’ll make it work somehow. Memories of Saturdays spent searching for homes flashed through his mind. If it meant going back to her tiny one-bedroom apartment, he didn’t care. He’d live in a cardboard box by the river if it meant staying with Marcy. He sighed. You ladies are the Fates, right? You’re goddesses. You have the power to cut a man’s life short and extend it if you wish. For me. For what should have happened and didn’t, you can make the exception. You can keep me from fading away. As he spoke, power ebbed from him. He didn’t know how much longer he had, certainly not as long as he would have liked.

All is preordained. The middle woman wove in another strand. Each strand measured before its birth. But it is true that under extraordinary circumstances we can weave another strand, strengthening the whole. Long life is nothing, though, without deeds.

Kyle dropped to one knee, hands clasped before him. If it is deeds you want, then deeds you will have.

Can you prevent another strand from being cut? The younger woman studied a part of the tapestries where knots and strands tangled. Even if you knew it was too late for another?

Kyle frowned. Too late for whom, he wondered. Marcy? It couldn’t be. To return to a world knowing she wasn’t in it would be pure torture. Yes, he spoke, knowing if he were right, he’d be condemning himself to days of loneliness and struggle. If I can save a life, I will. I’ve taken far too many.

The boy speaks truly. The eldest woman reached into the air and pulled out a gossamer filament. It shone with promise and hope. Slowly, she handed it to the middle woman who wove it into the tapestry, starting at a knot and the hole it left. With deft fingers, she created a pattern, and as Kyle watched, strength returned to him.

Light flashed.

Kyle stood alone.

He blinked his eyes and stared at his still translucent skin. Well, damn, he was still a ghost.

You didn’t think we’d make it easy for you, did you? The feminine voices chuckled, and then faded away.

Well, I didn’t expect to still be dead, but thank you. With those grudging words, he turned and walked out of the building.

Kyle stepped into sunlight. He blinked at the brightness, realizing it’d been a while since he’d been out in the daylight. The decrepit buildings tumbling down around him held an air of abandonment. Whatever operations had happened here, no longer took place. The docks, heavy cargo containers long emptied, sat abandoned. Buildings crumbled, and not even gang graffiti decorated the tumbling-down walls.

Kyle ran, anxious to be as far away from that place as possible. I died here twice. I don’t want to risk a third time. He slipped into an easy jog, then a run, using his ghostly senses to speed him far past mortal endurance. The world blurred around him, and one thought filled his mind. Focusing on it like a lifeline, he let thoughts of his lover, his girlfriend, pull him home.

Marcy.

Chapter One

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Shay closed her eyes as she peeled tape from the old box. Scrawled writing on the side said simply Marcy’s things, though the simple words couldn’t accurately convey the contents. Shay closed her eyes and smoothed damp palms on the denim skirt she wore. Opening her eyes, she glanced at her bare feet peeking from beneath the hem. For a moment, she wiggled her toes, admiring the tiny flowers painted on each toenail. She needed give herself a moment to prepare, and drawing a deep breath, she imagined her spine lengthening, turning into roots to sink into the ground below her. She stretched, lengthening her spine until it stood like the trunk of a tree. With each inhalation, she imagined calm, and each exhalation removed tension from her body.

Six months since her best friend had died. Shay wondered if it should still be so painful to think of her. Unshed tears stung her eyes. She opened the