He appeared dumbstruck as well, staring as if she were the ghost. He swallowed hard, eyes moving down her body and back up.

Shay remembered what she wasn’t wearing. She grabbed the edge of her damp T-shirt and stretched it down as far as she could, which further outlined her breasts. “Could you hand me that sweater on the coatrack?” It was a long, belted cardigan, probably dusty, but she didn’t care.

He blinked and nodded, reaching for the sweater. A tattoo covered the side of his neck. A series of swirls. Maybe it was something to do with Special Forces. She accepted the long sweater and slipped her arms inside, watching as he picked up his gun and holstered it.

“Sorry about that. You don’t smell like you.” He sniffed, nostrils flaring inappreciatively. “Smells like a party.” His gaze locked on her left hand. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. A guy on the airplane spilled bourbon on my shirt.”

“What are you doing here?”

Her first reaction was to say it was her home, she could come whenever she wanted, but it hadn’t been her home for nine years, so some explanation was due. “I was supposed to meet Renee in Leesburg, but she wasn’t answering her phone. Since I had to drive this way, so I thought I’d stop here first.” And face old ghosts. “I was surprised the gate wasn’t locked.” It stayed locked when she was here.

“Marcas has been working on it,” Cody said, darting another glance at her left hand.

“How long are you staying here?” she asked, fiddling with the belt.

He frowned, his hazel eyes so familiar, yet different, as if something fierce lurked in the depths. “I live here,” he said. “Next door, I mean. I’ve been here for months. Nina didn’t tell you?”