Read Online The Ghost and The Hacker (Dark Fire Book 3) by Ivy M. Jones - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ivy M. Jones
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murdered here and left the country on a really permanent basis."
We look at each other and jog down the hallway to our rooms. The mattresses are missing, but there are full sets of furniture, including headboards, desks and nightstands in each. For some reason, the mattress-free beds look odd, but I can't place why.
Holding her breath, Lucy swings the closet door open in the first room. It's empty except for a shoe shelf and a folded comforter that matches the decor. The second room is the same. The drawers are empty, but the warranty information is in the bottom drawer of each dresser for the entire set in each room. Lucy quirks a brow but doesn't say anything. The linen closet is full of sheets that match each bedroom.
"I'll call Ms. Haas and ask about all this in the morning," I say, plopping down on our new couch.
Lucy plops down beside me. "Or, we can stay on the couch tonight and wait for Mr. Europe to come haunt us. If he doesn't show up tonight, maybe...don't call."
I look over at Lucy. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the apartment. There's no TV or electronics, but given what we'll be paying for rent and the fact that we won't have to buy any furniture, electronic goodies will be something we can easily afford.
"I'm probably jinxing it or something, but let's go put away our clothes," Lucy says, hopping up to grab her duffel bags. We dropped everything when our jaws hit the floor, so it's all still sitting right inside the entrance.
We easily decide who will get each bedroom; one has a bolder color scheme so I let Lucy have it. I grab the comforter from my new closet and we wrap ourselves up on the couch together. I pull out my tablet and we watch Ryan Reynolds and his wacky antics with Sandra Bullock. We giggle together like we did in college until it's late and we nod off.
We sleep through the night without interruption from Mr. Europe.
Wednesday after work, the movers leave everything behind in the shithole except for our beds and the TV. When we get everything to the new apartment, I realize why the beds looked weird. The beds are doubles, which look too small in such big rooms, but fit our mattresses perfectly.
"This is getting scary weird," Lucy says to me when one of the movers slides her mattress onto her new frame and the thing settles in perfectly.
I really don't want to think about it, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially if it's a dead gift horse. "Well, we'll just have to thank Mr. Europe. Let's buy some champagne and leave it out for him tonight."
Settling in takes no time at all and we eat ordered-up lunch at our new table, on our new dishware, which we put in the new dishwasher when we're done. We're both blown away by another service offered at the apartment- the security desk downstairs will accept your food for you so that you don't get strangers knocking at your door. We never meet the guy who delivers our chicken marsala, but we do meet Teddy, the security guard who brings our food to our door. He's cute and Lucy flips her hair, our signal that she's calling dibs.
I just laugh to myself. I'm not interested. I have a ghost to purge - the possibly worrying Mr. Europe not withstanding - before I start looking for a relationship.
The move took little energy and even less to unpack, so I'm pretty happy. At least until Thursday evening, anyway. It's a huge city, so what are the chances I see Cy Epson strolling toward me as I come home late from work?
I got stuck at my desk on a last minute project and decided to just stay until it was done. Finishing it will clear my morning so I won't have to worry about a deadline. It will also look good for my new bosses, I figure, especially after that extended lunch on Monday. As a result, it's nearly seven thirty before I get off the subway and walk to the front doors of my new apartment.
Right in front of me is Cy Epson, a baseball cap pulled low enough to
We look at each other and jog down the hallway to our rooms. The mattresses are missing, but there are full sets of furniture, including headboards, desks and nightstands in each. For some reason, the mattress-free beds look odd, but I can't place why.
Holding her breath, Lucy swings the closet door open in the first room. It's empty except for a shoe shelf and a folded comforter that matches the decor. The second room is the same. The drawers are empty, but the warranty information is in the bottom drawer of each dresser for the entire set in each room. Lucy quirks a brow but doesn't say anything. The linen closet is full of sheets that match each bedroom.
"I'll call Ms. Haas and ask about all this in the morning," I say, plopping down on our new couch.
Lucy plops down beside me. "Or, we can stay on the couch tonight and wait for Mr. Europe to come haunt us. If he doesn't show up tonight, maybe...don't call."
I look over at Lucy. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the apartment. There's no TV or electronics, but given what we'll be paying for rent and the fact that we won't have to buy any furniture, electronic goodies will be something we can easily afford.
"I'm probably jinxing it or something, but let's go put away our clothes," Lucy says, hopping up to grab her duffel bags. We dropped everything when our jaws hit the floor, so it's all still sitting right inside the entrance.
We easily decide who will get each bedroom; one has a bolder color scheme so I let Lucy have it. I grab the comforter from my new closet and we wrap ourselves up on the couch together. I pull out my tablet and we watch Ryan Reynolds and his wacky antics with Sandra Bullock. We giggle together like we did in college until it's late and we nod off.
We sleep through the night without interruption from Mr. Europe.
Wednesday after work, the movers leave everything behind in the shithole except for our beds and the TV. When we get everything to the new apartment, I realize why the beds looked weird. The beds are doubles, which look too small in such big rooms, but fit our mattresses perfectly.
"This is getting scary weird," Lucy says to me when one of the movers slides her mattress onto her new frame and the thing settles in perfectly.
I really don't want to think about it, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially if it's a dead gift horse. "Well, we'll just have to thank Mr. Europe. Let's buy some champagne and leave it out for him tonight."
Settling in takes no time at all and we eat ordered-up lunch at our new table, on our new dishware, which we put in the new dishwasher when we're done. We're both blown away by another service offered at the apartment- the security desk downstairs will accept your food for you so that you don't get strangers knocking at your door. We never meet the guy who delivers our chicken marsala, but we do meet Teddy, the security guard who brings our food to our door. He's cute and Lucy flips her hair, our signal that she's calling dibs.
I just laugh to myself. I'm not interested. I have a ghost to purge - the possibly worrying Mr. Europe not withstanding - before I start looking for a relationship.
The move took little energy and even less to unpack, so I'm pretty happy. At least until Thursday evening, anyway. It's a huge city, so what are the chances I see Cy Epson strolling toward me as I come home late from work?
I got stuck at my desk on a last minute project and decided to just stay until it was done. Finishing it will clear my morning so I won't have to worry about a deadline. It will also look good for my new bosses, I figure, especially after that extended lunch on Monday. As a result, it's nearly seven thirty before I get off the subway and walk to the front doors of my new apartment.
Right in front of me is Cy Epson, a baseball cap pulled low enough to
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