Confessions of a Pirate Ghost: Gambling Ghosts, #3

By Jo-Ann Carson

Escaping the clutches of a mobster, art forger Harley Davis dives off a yacht in the middle of the night and swims ashore to Sunset Cove, a small town in the Pacific Northwest, where the only light she sees comes form inside a haunted teahouse. Soaking wet and shaking, she pauses at the door. No one in their right mind would enter such a creepy place, but she has no choice. She needs to hide.

Pirate ghost, Three-Sheets, enjoys his extended life on earth, gambling and flirting with the ladies, but when he meets Harley, he discovers he wants more out of death than a good gambling hand.

As the charming Three-Sheets woos Harley, her former boss puts a contract on her head. What do you get when you mix a saucy thief, a priate ghost and an angry godfather? Another fun, Gambling Ghost story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo-Ann Carson
• Release date: Oct 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780994955654

Jo-Ann Carson

Jo-Ann Carson ~ paranormal mystery and romance ~ Reports of Jo-Ann Carson’s death on a Gulf Island are greatly exaggerated or, at the very least, premature. An award-winning fiction and non-fiction author, blogger and podcaster Jo-Ann loves to tinker with words. Her latest two series the Ghost & Abby Mysteries and the Gambling Ghosts feature eccentric characters, such as a Viking ghost with existential issues, a broken-hearted Highlander and a Casanova-man-witch. At the center of each tale is a strong woman trying to make sense of life and love.  A firm believer in the magic of our everyday lives, Jo-Ann loves watching sunrises and walking the beaches near her home in the Pacific Northwest. You can find her at her author website: http://www.jo-anncarson.com/. Blog/ Twitter/ Author FB/ Pod FB/ Pinterest/ Instagram / BookBub Page

Book preview

Also by Jo-Ann Carson

Gambling Ghosts

A Highland Ghost for Christmas

A Viking Ghost for Valentine's Day

Confessions of a Pirate Ghost

The Biker Ghost Meets His Match

Confessions of a Pirate Ghost

Jo-Ann Carson

Copyright 2012 © Jo-Ann Carson Terpstra

JRT Publications

All rights reserved

(ebook) ISBN: 978-0-994556-5-4

Cover Artist: Steven Novak

Murder for Christmas is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are the products of my imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

Contents

Introduction

Escape

The Poker Players

Trouble on Paradise

Strange Things Wash Ashore on a Hight Tide

Dead Sexy

Slimey Predators

It’s All in the Leaves

Secrets

The Break In

Crossing Paths

It’s All in the Family

A Kiss is Still a Kiss

Her Plan

His Plan

The Yacht

The Story That Never Ends

T’is a Pirate’s Life for Me

Acknowledgments

A Note from Jo-Ann

Also by Jo-Ann Carson

About the Author

Introduction

Confessions of a Pirate Ghost

Gambling Ghosts Series, Novella 3

Everyone has secrets.

Escaping the clutches of a mobster, art forger Harley Davis dives off a yacht in the middle of the night and swims ashore to Sunset Cove, a small town in the Pacific Northwest, where the only light she sees comes from inside a haunted teahouse. Soaking wet and shaking, she pauses at the door. No one in their right mind would enter such a creepy place, but she has no choice. She needs to hide.

Pirate ghost, Three-Sheets, enjoys his extended life on earth, gambling and flirting with the ladies, but when he meets Harley, he discovers he wants more out of death than a good gambling hand.

As the charming Three Sheets woos Harley, her former boss puts a contract on her head. What do you get when you mix a saucy thief, a pirate ghost and an angry godfather? Another fun, Gambling Ghost story.

I dedicate this story to all the readers out there who dream of having their lives unsettled by a handsome pirate.

Life's pretty good, and why wouldn't it be? I'm a pirate, after all.

---

~Johnny Depp

Escape

Who says life is fair? Where is that written?

~ the Princess Bride

WELL PAST MIDNIGHT, Harley Davis crept up the long, creaky staircase to the front entrance of the Victorian teahouse leaving a puddle on each step. Swimming to shore in the frigid, ocean water had chilled her to the bone, but she had no time for self-pity. Everything should be easy now that I’m on land, she told herself. A light inside the house shone brightly through the front window, a warm glow that promised sanctuary. It had been the only light visible in the small sea-side town. Slowly, she curled her stiff fingers into a fist and knocked on the old wood door. Silence. Shivering in the brisk night air, she tapped again. Nothing. She called out, H … hello. Anyone? I need help. Her teeth chattered. With a blue hand she reached for the door handle. It felt ice-cold and as she turned it, a chill spiraled up her arm sending a dark sense of foreboding flowing through her senses and settling into her heart. But she had no choice. She pushed on the door and entered.

H … hello. She said it louder this time.

The sound of faint laughter and people talking came from further inside. They must not have heard her. But that sense that all was not right sat heavily on her shoulders.

H … hello. M … my naaame iss … There was no point in saying her name if no one was listening and annunciating words was so darn hard. Her eyes felt heavy. If only she could lie down. Nausea rose in her throat.

She took a step inside and the door slammed behind her. Surrounded by darkness, a tingling sensation crawled along her scalp. And I thought I was too cold to feel anything. The silence in the entrance way had a graveyard quality to it that she didn’t trust. Desperate to stop her creepy thoughts, she reached for the wall and fumbled for a light switch. Finding one, she flicked it on.

The noise of people continued, a distance away.

In a glance she took in her surroundings. Beyond the entrance alcove, there was a sitting room with faded rose wallpaper and a collection of well-worn wing chairs, small tables and a sofa. An antique, tiffany lamp stood in one corner and a chandelier hung from the middle of the room. The air smelled of cinnamon and coffee, and beneath that lay a note of mustiness, as if the house breathed its age.

H … hello, she called out again.

It was warmer inside the house, but her body continued to shudder. Hypothermia would set in soon, if it hadn’t already. She needed to get warm. A blanket would help. She would give her stash of diamonds for a blanket and a wood fire.

A loud chorus of laughter broke out and she turned towards it. Light leaked from beneath the door of the room where the sound came from. They must be really busy not to hear her. Surely someone would help her, if they knew she was in such a bad shape.

Her heart raced and her breathing with it, yet her darned feet moved slower than the last drops of molasses in a bottle, so painfully slow she wanted to scream, but knew she shouldn’t waste her energy for that. Step by step she willed herself forward, hoping she wouldn’t fall before she reached someone. H …hello, she continued to call out in a slurred and raspy voice. H … hello. The light called to her.

When she reached the door, she didn’t bother knocking. Desperate, she grabbed the door handle, noting once again that its ice-cold surface sent swirling vibrations up her arm, vibrations that carried with them dark, haunting images. But she would not be stopped, by tricks of her mind. She opened the door so wide it banged against the wall.

Silence. The room was empty. A single candle in an elaborate Candelaria shone.

She wanted to scream at the horror of the moment. This room had been her last chance. The laughter must have been a recording or maybe a radio. This would be her end. N … no, she screamed, hearing the hysteria in her voice. This can’t be the way I die.

Out of the dark emptiness came a man’s voice, Woman, you’re dripping.

Harley turned towards the sound. But no one was there.

The Poker Players

We cannot change the cards we are dealt. Just how we play the hand.

~Randy Pausch

THE PIRATE-GHOST KNOWN AS THREE SHEETS looked at the woman standing in the doorway. You’ve got the shivers, Love.

Before he finishes his sentence, she collapsed on the floor.