Going Under

By Lisa Worrall

Battered by unseen forces, Evan Griffin finally seeks help. Paranormal investigator Ross Stone is captivated. Dare he get close to Evan when he's fighting his own demons?

Evan Griffin moved into his remote country house with all the excitement and promise of a new start...until the strange noises began. When the ghostly attacks become physical, he is left bruised and battered, and desperate for help.

When Evan walks into the offices of paranormal investigators, Knight & Stone, Ross Stone is dumbfounded by the injuries the man bears. Injuries Evan insists were caused by an unseen assailant in his own home. Something in the man's eyes tugs at Ross' heartstrings. Does he dare risk getting close to Evan when Ross is fighting his own demons?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Aug 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781784301071

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A Totally Bound Publication

Going Under

ISBN # 978-1-78430-107-1

©Copyright Lisa Worrall 2014

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2014

Edited by Faith Bicknell-Brown

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Simmering and a Sexometer of 2.

GOING UNDER

Lisa Worrall

Battered by unseen forces, Evan Griffin finally seeks help. Paranormal investigator Ross Stone is captivated. Dare he get close to Evan when he’s fighting his own demons?

Evan Griffin moved into his remote country house with all the excitement and promise of a new start…until the strange noises began. When the ghostly attacks become physical, he is left bruised and battered, and desperate for help.

When Evan walks into the offices of paranormal investigators, Knight & Stone, Ross Stone is dumbfounded by the injuries the man bears. Injuries Evan insists were caused by an unseen assailant in his own home. Something in the man’s eyes tugs at Ross’ heartstrings. Does he dare risk getting close to Evan when Ross is fighting his own demons?

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Corona: Cerveceria Modelo, S.A. de C.V

Ghostbusters: Columbia Pictures Industries

John Edward: JEMERC, Inc.

Louboutin: Christian Louboutin, Individual

Mary Poppins: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

Ray-Bans: Luxottica Groups S.P.A.

Rocky Balboa: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc.

Star Wars (including Hans Solo & Luke Skywalker): Lucasfilm Entertainment Company LTD

Jerry Maguire: Writer Cameron Crow; TriStar Pictures, Gracie Films

Barney Fife: The Andy Griffith Show; Arthur Stander (uncredited); Danny Thomas Enterprises

Prologue

Pulling open the curtains to let in the morning light, Evan Griffin gazed out of the glass pane at the rolling hills surrounding his house on every side. His house. It sounded good in his head. New house and new beginning. He wondered how he could be anything but happy here. It was perfect—almost. But he wouldn’t think about Mack now—couldn’t. If he let himself walk that road, he’d end up in a useless heap on the floor, and those boxes wouldn’t unpack themselves.

Lost in his thoughts, he opened the first box and began to sort through the linen he found there. Halfway to the linen closet, he was stopped in his tracks by a loud bang.

"Fuck," he hissed, dropping the curtain and padding onto the floor. He listened intently for a moment and, hearing nothing, he bent to pick up the items he’d dropped. Then he heard it again, coming from the bathroom. Swallowing, an uneasy feeling unfurling in his belly, he opened the bathroom door and looked around the room. Everything seemed in place. His toiletries were on the shelf in a large shoebox and the stack of towels he’d unpacked yesterday were still sitting in the bone-dry tub.

The tub was one of the things that had attracted Evan to the property. It was huge, and with him at six foot one in his bare feet, a tub that he could actually stretch out in was something of a novelty. It sat in the middle of the room on claw feet with old-fashioned steel faucets and the head end higher than the foot end, like something seen in a Victorian lady’s boudoir. The white porcelain was cracked a little with age and he would have to repaint the underside with some specialized paint, but he didn’t care. The proportions of the room and the grandeur of the fittings, albeit a little worn, were what had clinched the deal.

Slam!

Jesus Christ, he spat, spinning around to find the bathroom door shutting him off from the rest of the house. His heart pounded frantically when there was another crash, and he spun around again to see the large casement window at the end of the room banging in the wind. For fuck’s sake, Griffin, he admonished himself, walking over to the window, pulling it shut and securely latching it. It’s an old house. The window was open which made the first slam, then the centrifugal force created by the window and the door being open, caused the second.

He stopped in front of the mirror he had hung above the basin the day before and ran his hands through his shaggy hair, scratching his scalp with blunt nails. If you’re going to think that every knock, creak and bang is something sinister, you might as well pack up and go back to the city right now. He shook his head at his reflection before turning on his heel and crossing the room to open the door. And stop talking to yourself, he added with a smile. He firmly closed the door behind him and headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.

* * * *

You think moving houses can get rid of me, Evan? She watched from her seat on the deep windowsill as the man moved around the bedroom. You always were stupid. She clenched her hands into fists as rage bubbled inside her. Narrowing her gaze, she smiled in satisfaction as Evan rubbed his hands together to warm them. What’s wrong, Evan? Cold? She gripped the wet strands of her hair and hissed through her teeth. "Not as cold as me! But you will be…you will be. I’m not going anywhere until you and everyone you love has paid for what you did."

Chapter One

I’m late, I’m late, Ross Stone mumbled over and over as his feet pounded the sidewalk. He bumped into other pedestrians on the way and tossed shouts of apology over his shoulder, left and right. If he’d had the time, he’d have stopped to say sorry personally, but that was all anyone was going to get from him today. If he was any later for this meeting, Jack would skin him alive. Skidding to a halt outside the austere brick building, he then all but flew up the stone steps and into the foyer.

Hey, Burt! He waved to the doorman behind the desk as he slipped and slid over the highly polished oak flooring.

Late again? Burt chuckled, returning the greeting with a lift of his hand. Jack don’t look happy, son! he called after him.

Tell me about it, Ross replied. He bounced from one foot to the other while he waited for the elevator. He sighed gratefully when the doors finally opened, and he quickly ducked inside the metal box then pressed the button for the eighth floor. My ears have been burning for the last four blocks!

The elevator doors slid open again when it reached the eighth floor. Ross took a step back at the expression on the face of the man waiting for him. Jack Knight was not exactly the biggest man in the world, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in attitude. Ross took in the crossed arms, steely blue gaze, firm set of Jack’s lips and the little wrinkle above his nose that made him look halfway between really pissed and constipated. Not that Ross thought this was the time to let Jack know that.

Erm… Hi? he said, hoping his smile wasn’t as sheepish as it felt. Am I late?

I suppose you think that’s funny? Jack said softly, menace in every word. Do you know how long I’ve had to entertain our new client?

Jeez, Jack. I’m only like ten minutes late, if that, Ross griped. What’s the big deal?

Look at your watch again, Ross, Jack ground out.

Why? Ross replied, not willing to play Jack’s stupid games.

Have you by any chance noticed that the hands haven’t moved since you woke up this morning?

Don’t be stupid, Ross hissed, looking back down at his wrist. It’s— His gaze flew back up to the annoyed man in front of him. Shit, how late am I?

Jack tapped his fingers slowly on his forearm. Two and a half hours.

Two—

And a half hours, Jack repeated, his tone filled with the obvious desire to kick the shit out of his partner.

If I say sorry—Ross stuck out his lower lip and looked at the man through lowered lashes—will you promise not to hurt me?

Put the lip away, Stone, Jack huffed, grabbing the neck of Ross’ T-shirt and hauling him out of the elevator. Just get your ass in the office. The poor guy is on his fifth cup of coffee. He’s practically bouncing off the walls. He shoved Ross along in front of him. I’ll deal with you later. You’re lucky we’ve known each other since the womb, man, or I’d be firing your ass about now.

You can’t fire me, numb-nuts, I own fifty percent, besides, you love my ass, Ross threw over his shoulder. He opened the door to their offices then dumped his bag on his desk. He quickly threw his jacket on the chair and ran a hand over his short, dark blond hair before grinning at Jack. Come on then, we don’t want to keep him waiting. He snorted, ignoring Jack’s questioning as to whether or not Ross’ birth may have been entirely legal, and opened the door to the smaller room where they interviewed their clients.

Mr Griffin? Jack shouldered his way past Ross, entering the room first. This is my business partner, Ross Stone.

Ross approached the man, who was looking out the big window encompassing one whole wall of the room. Mr Griffin, he said, holding out his hand. I am so sorry for my tardiness. Hell of a morning. His gasp was involuntary when the man turned and slipped long, slender fingers into his. The face he looked into was ruggedly