Before heading back to the rental house, Christian shared a few more details with me as to how Blue became the club’s leader after Mickey Moran had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died shortly thereafter. Immediately following Mickey's death, Blue had been reinstated as leader. But not long after it was discovered that Blue was only second in command. He was reporting to someone else.

The old crew had been involved with prostitution, theft, loan sharking, and street drugs. This new leader—only referred to as The Ghost—ran a more sophisticated gang behind a desk in an office that nobody had ever visited. Yes, there was still prostitution, but not the typical hooker you'd find on a street corner or hanging at a bar. These were high-priced call girls that were on retainer for clients with very deep pockets who needed to remain faceless. Clients who could be blackmailed for money, information, or favors. The loans to itinerant gamblers were no longer being arranged from the back rooms of pawn shops, but were being managed by a well-placed insider at the local casinos and racetracks. Yes, the gang had stepped up their business, and still kept the right amount of law enforcement in their debt.

The Ghost was smart. The new club headquarters was a highly respected South Florida HVAC business. Shielding the club's illegal activities with an air conditioning company was brilliant. This gave gang members, some who were now HVAC employees, access to almost any building they wanted. If they weren't repairing the units, they were installing new ones. The point being that almost every building in South Florida had an air conditioner that needed to be repaired or replaced, or in the case of new construction, installed. And people lived in buildings. All kinds of people. Rich, poor, black, white, men, women. People that were flawed. People that took drugs, cheated on their spouses, hid gambling addictions and so much more.

“So, does anybody know who this Ghost is?” I tilted my head to one side and frowned. “And where did they come up with the name The Ghost?”

Without answering, Christian stood up from the picnic table, walked toward a large tree and stepped behind it. I didn’t realize what he was doing until I heard the unmistakable sound of liquid spattering against bark. I rolled my eyes and stood up, disengaging myself from the picnic table.

“No. Nobody has a clue who The Ghost really is,” he called out from behind the huge oak. He came around the side of the tree and was zipping his pants when he said, “And the name Ghost is obvious. Nobody has ever seen him. But he wasn’t always The Ghost. He used to go by some weird name that was hard to pronounce.” He paused a moment and looked thoughtful before adding, “Verkozen.”

“Ver...what?” I asked, scrunching up my nose.

“Verkozen. I think it’s Dutch and means elected one. I guess it was mispronounced enough that it was shortened to just Kozen, which became Koze, which eventually became Ghost. Probably because it’s easier to say, kind of rhymes and makes more sense.” He shrugged his shoulders and added, “Don’t know and definitely don’t care.”

“Has Blue met this elected one?” I asked using air quotes.

“Blue communicates by cell phone or computer.”

“Has he ever said if he recognizes the voice?” My curiosity was more than piqued.

Christian shook his head as he reached for my hand and we walked toward the motorcycle. “I’ve been told it’s one of those robotic voices. It could be anybody. Blue could even by lying. Maybe there is no Ghost.” A few seconds passed when he added, “Or maybe there is, and it’s somebody who’s supposed to be dead.”

The implication was obvious. We’d reached the bike, and I grabbed my jacket that I’d left draped over the seat. He held it up for me to slip on. I had my back to him and said, “No way. It’s not Grizz.”

“How can you be sure?” he asked, as he reached for his jacket. I’d turned around and was fastening mine when I shook my head. “He’s too busy. He’d never have the time, and he’s not exactly a poster boy for technology. If anything he hates it.”

“What does he do all day?” Christian climbed on the bike and waited for me to get on behind him.

“When he’s not helping my mother raise two four-year-olds, he trains and rehabilitates dogs. And when he’s not doing those things, he spends time making our home self-sustaining. He’s had solar panels installed for power, wells dug for fresh water. Stuff like that.”

Christian didn’t reply. He started the bike and moments later we’d pulled out onto the main road and were heading back to the house.

The long ride gave me time to think. Could my father be The Ghost that gave orders from behind a computer keyboard? I couldn’t picture him doing it. Everything I’d told Christian was true. Grizz kept himself very busy, and when he had free time, he used it to ride his motorcycle. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find time to slip away by himself. He could have a laptop hidden somewhere or maybe use Mom’s when no one was around. After her nagging and then insisting he’d finally relented and gotten her one. She only used it to look up recipes or browse parenting forums. I knew he was very interested in the stock market and traded, but I never asked how. Maybe he used her laptop. And if that was the case, I’m sure there was some kind of technology that Bill used to make it untraceable. Heck, he could even be doing what I did all those years ago when I’d tried to establish contact with Christian—using public computers. My father using a public computer? I immediately dismissed the thought. Unless…what if Grizz’s disdain for technology was nothing but a cleverly designed ruse that allowed him to still run his old gang?

The thought poked at me the entire ride home. Apparently, something had been poking at Christian as well, but it didn’t have to do with The Ghost. We’d pulled up to the house and I’d just gotten off the bike and was heading for the front porch when I heard him say, “I think I should go back to school with you to help you pack.”

I slowly turned around to face him. He had dismounted, too, and was removing his jacket as he approached me.

“Help me pack? For what?” I wanted to know.

“To come back to Florida with me,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I don’t see why we need to wait until you graduate. You can transfer schools and finish up there.”

“Who says we’re going to live in Florida?” I couldn’t keep the attitude out of my voice.

He stopped in his tracks and frowned at me. “Who says we’re not?”

“Don’t you think it’s something we should at least talk about?” I huffed.

“What’s to talk about? We’re married. We belong together. And I can’t leave Florida until I’m finished with my parole.”

I nodded. “Okay, I understand the parole issue,” I conceded. “But there is no way I’m transferring schools right now to finish up the last few months in Florida.” I shook my head and glared at him. “Not that I’d even consider it this late in the semester, but I don’t even know if it’s possible this close to graduation.”

He gave me a smirk and said, “I’m sure we can figure it out. A couple of bucks in the right bank account can make it happen.”

I was suddenly filled with annoyance. If I didn’t think stomping my foot on the ground was tantamount to a full-blown juvenile hissy fit, I would’ve done it. I wasn’t an errant child, but I was a seriously ticked-off adult at his controlling assumption.

“You can’t buy everything, Christian,” I spat. “And you can’t always have things your way. Did you ever once consider what an inconvenience it would be for me?”

“You’re my wife now, Mimi. I want you with me.”

“You can’t have everything your way, Christian! You certainly can’t disrupt me attending school. I’m graduating!” I yelled. “And besides, we’re not really married!”

I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, and I braced myself for an argument. An argument that didn’t come as he turned his back on me and headed toward the stolen motorcycle. I stood with my hands on my hips and watched him drive off.

I let myself in the house, and paced for a good twenty minutes before I grabbed an empty basket off one of the shelves and headed outside. I found my way back to the field of strawberries we’d stumbled on earlier in the week in the hopes of salvaging some that may have survived the dip in temperature. While I plucked the decent ones and tossed them in my basket, I found that my earlier anger had subsided. When I allowed myself to recall our conversation I realized that Christian hadn’t approached the topic in a demanding or bossy way. He may have been confident about his assumptions, but that was all. And considering Christian hadn’t gone to college, what would he know about the hoops I’d have to jump through to transfer? He wouldn’t, which is why he’d offered the only solution he was familiar with. Bribery. I’d been quick to unfairly assume he was issuing an order when he was only telling me what he figured was the best way to handle our situation. I was the one who escalated the conversation into a quarrel. I stopped picking strawberries and stood up when I realized we hadn’t had a quarrel. I had angrily jumped down his throat in a nasty and ugly manner. And he never once raised his voice or challenged me. Instead, he’d driven away.

I looked at my watch and gulped. He’d left almost an hour ago. And if he’d returned, I would’ve surely heard his bike. I looked up at the sky. The sun would be setting soon. An emptiness laced with a tingling of fear descended on me. My eyes started to burn when I remembered my parting shot at him. And besides, we’re not really married.

What had I done?

I trudged back toward the house and was staring at the ground when I was startled by Christian. He’d appeared out of nowhere and came barreling at me with what looked like an expression of relief on his face. I dropped my basket when he pulled me into a tight hug. After releasing me he took my face in his hands and kissed my nose, my cheeks, my eyes, my forehead.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere, Mimi. I thought you left,” he admitted before letting out a long breath.

I was a bit breathless myself when I said, “But you must’ve seen my car still parked in front of the house.”

“Yeah, I saw it. But, I was gone long enough for you to call a cab or maybe run to the main road and hitchhike, or…” He stopped and pulled his hand through his long hair. “I thought you were gone.”

I took a step back and retrieved the basket I’d dropped. Holding it up I explained, “I was picking strawberries.” He gave me a smile that turned my insides to mush. “Wait…why didn’t I hear the motorcycle?”

“I left it where it would be found.” He took my hand and started tugging me toward the house.

“How did you get back?” I asked as I struggled to keep up with his long strides.

The house came into view and I saw a pickup truck idling in the driveway. Apparently, the driver had waited for Christian to return and gave him a wave before driving off. Before I could ask he told me he helped a guy get it started in return for a ride.

“About earlier. What I said when you drove off. I—”

“Forget it,” he interrupted as we made our way up to the front porch.

I looked up at him, but he must’ve seen something in my expression that caused him to continue.

“I’ve wasted my entire life holding grudges. Being with you this week has shown me how much I’ve missed out on real happiness.” His deep voice was laced with regret.

“I’m not perfect, Christian. And neither are you. We’ve still got a long way to go, and let’s face it, we both know that our families will probably be placing bets on how long we’ll last.”

“Then let’s make sure we prove them wrong, Mimi."

“We still have a couple of days left before you have to go back to school,” Christian said as we watched the truck head down the long drive round a curve and disappear from view.

I looked up at his profile and he must’ve felt my stare because he turned and looked down at me. I was certain he was going to tell me that he wanted to spend the few days we had left in bed. His answer surprised me.

“We’re going to pack up and go to Pine Creek, North Carolina. I want to meet your family before you go back to school and I head back to Florida. And you told me your grandpa is a minister. We should ask him to marry us."

I fumbled for words that didn’t come.

“Am I wrong to assume you want to make our marriage official?” he asked.

This was supposed to be the part where the guy tells the girl that it wasn’t real and he enjoyed their time together, then makes fun of her for thinking they were really married. But that’s not what Christian did.

“You’re not wrong,” I whispered. I wanted my grandfather to marry us, but I was concerned about the resistance I knew we would get from my family. "I'm not sure if asking him to do it this soon would be a good idea. I think both of our families would probably take us more seriously if we waited until I graduate in a few months."

"I didn't mean he had to marry us immediately, Mimi. I would make it official tomorrow, but I understand if you want to wait until summer."

"I think it's for the best," I assured him.

"Are you having doubts about us?"

"No!" I blurted. And I was telling the truth. Our romance may have been fast, but I had no doubt it was real.

“Good.” A few seconds passed before he added, “And I was wrong to make an assumption about school without talking to you, Mimi.”

I blinked. Stunned at his admission.

“Shocked?” he asked with a lopsided grin. “Don’t be. You’re the only person in the world I’d do anything for. I wasn’t being cocky when I told you before that I don’t ask. I don’t. I never have. But for you, and you alone, I’ll try.”

“Thank you for that, Christian. I’ll do my best to be patient when I think you’re giving orders or being bossy. I’ll remind you nicely when I think it’s something we should decide together.”

“You look worried.” He hesitated before adding, “Are you doubting if we can make it work?”

“No. Not at all,” I answered, while shaking my head. “I’m not worried about us. I’m worried about bringing you home to meet Grizz.” I chewed on my bottom lip as the horrible-things-that-could-go-wrong scenarios played in my head. There were too many to count.

“You have to keep ice on it, Mimi!” Christian practically yelled as he bent over me. The frustration in his tone was apparent.

“But the ice hurts more than the injury when it’s been on too long,” I whined.

Immediately following our earlier conversation about visiting my family and announcing our wedding plans, we made the decision to leave first thing in the morning. We used what little daylight we had left to unload the bed of Christian’s borrowed truck with the homeowner’s personal recreational toys. He was tugging at the kayak when it caught on something. Without realizing that I was standing right behind him, Christian gave a hard yank that dislodged the kayak with unexpected momentum. It hit me in the face with enough force to cause me to stumble backwards and land with a thud on the ground.

I was stunned, and even winced when I tried to smile as another childhood memory descended on me.

"Mimi, do you wanna get married again?" Christian asked me as I followed him through the maze of jungle gym tunnels. He stopped crawling and turned around, accidentally kicking me in the face. I was startled, but not hurt.

"I'm sorry, Mimi! I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" he cried as he tried to wiggle closer to me in the tight space.

I gave him a wide grin and said, "Yeah, it kinda hurt, but not bad."

Christian looked relieved and started to turn back around when I answered his earlier question, "I forgot to bring my ring with me. I didn't know if you wanted to play wedding again."

Christian had given me a plastic ring that he'd won at a carnival and I'd worn it every time we saw each other.

"That's okay," he told me as we ventured out of the maze and were now standing in a small cube-shaped part of the structure that had open windows. He proudly pulled something out of his right front pocket. "I got this one for you out of the claw machine at the grocery store. It has a bigger diamond and it’s blue!"

It was the same ring that he’d held onto for years and put on my pillow last night.

After holding the ice to my swollen face for what seemed like forever, we ate a simple dinner, and turned on the TV to discover that even though snow wasn’t in the forecast, the temperature was supposed to dip that night. It was about that time we realized the heat in the house wasn’t working, and he didn’t want to call the realtor to send a repairman.

Christian’s solution was simple. He dragged the master bedroom mattress out to the living room, piled it high with blankets, and built a roaring fire.

“As much as I don’t want to, I think we need to sleep in our clothes tonight. The fire will go out when we fall asleep, and I don’t want you to freeze.”

I gave him what I could only assume was a crooked smile. My face was numb from all the ice packs. We decided to turn in at ten o’clock so we could get an early start in the morning. Our plan was to be on the road at sunrise; he would follow me to Highway 11. There was a gas station where we could leave his truck. We’d drive my car up into the foothills of Pine Creek. We concocted a story that had nothing to do with abduction, but of two old friends running into each other, deciding to spend time together. We were going to keep the story short and simple. Christian was there to fish with a buddy who never showed up, and after running into him at Pumpkin Rest and discovering Camp Keowee was closed, I made the decision on my own to stay with him. We realized we’ve always been in love, and picked up where we left off. We had an impromptu wedding, but wanted my grandfather, Micah, to make it official after I got my degree.

“You look awful, Mimi,” he said shaking his head, disgusted with himself. We were on our improvised bed and he was sitting up, looking down at me. “What will your parents think when we walk in with you looking like you’ve been in a car wreck?”

I reached for him to pull him down to me and said, “I’ll go in first and explain there was a mishap, an accident. Then I’ll tell them I brought someone home for them to meet. Believe me, that’ll shock them enough that they won’t even be thinking about my face.”

He nodded and settled next to me on the mattress. He was on his side, softly stroking my neck when he asked, “Does Grizz still go by James?”

I took his hand and kissed it before answering. I looked up at the ceiling and tried to explain.

“When my dad bought his way off death row, he was given a new identity.” I looked at Christian and his eyes were serious. I looked back at the ceiling. “It was James something. I don’t remember the last name he was given,” I told him shaking my head. “The story of how my mother found his real family is long, but I’ll give you the edited version. Before dying, Grizz’s birth mother gave him the first name Jamison, which was her mother’s maiden name and what would be his only link back to her family and a father he never knew. My mother’s search ended in Pine Creek, North Carolina, where she found Grizz’s real father, Micah Hunter. So, Grizz’s real name is Jamison Hunter.”

“That’s where you got the Hunter from in your alias,” Christian interrupted.

“Yeah, though technically,” I informed him, “it’s my real name.”

He nodded his understanding. “So is he Grizz or James or Jamison?”

I looked over at him and smiled. “He’s all of them. For the most part, James was the man my mother left Florida to marry, and people call him that. And it’s understandable because it can be short for Jamison. My grandfather calls him Son, except when he’s mad at him. Then he’s Jamison.” I laughed before continuing. “My mother calls him Grizz, but not in public. And it took me a while, but I call him Dad.”

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Christian told me as he jumped up and made his way to the master bedroom.

I took the few minutes he was gone to stare into the fire, and was immediately mesmerized by the flames. I sat up and watched as sparks flew off the burning timbers and disappeared. I’d never given much thought to the color of a fire. I thought they were mostly a combination of orange and red, but this one was different, and I suddenly realized why. I didn’t recall where I’d learned it, but I remembered knowing that the hottest fires burn blue. The same blue I saw in Christian’s eyes. The intensity I felt from his stare was hotter than any flame I’d set my eyes on. And everyone knew that if you played with fire you got burned. There was no fear in my revelation. Because I knew with every fiber of my being that Christian would never burn me. I felt the weight of the mattress as he sat down behind me, and I turned to him. He was holding his gun that he’d obviously retrieved from the nightstand.

“What do you need that for?” I asked. Our makeshift bed was pushed up against one of the couches. He shoved the gun beneath a seat cushion before curling next to me and pulling me into his arms.

“I like to know it’s close by.”

“Please don’t bring it inside my parents’ house tomorrow,” I pleaded.

“I wasn’t going to,” he replied, then asked, “but why not?”

“Because I’m seriously concerned about how my father will react to all this. And I don’t want to have to worry about anybody getting hurt.”

“I’m not going to hurt your father, Mimi.” His breath tickled my neck as he nuzzled it.

“It’s not my father I’m worried about, Christian. It’s you.”

He laughed. “I can handle Grizz, and I won’t need a gun to do it.”

The last thought I had before falling into a deep sleep was, I pray you’re right, my love, followed by, but you don’t know Grizz.