Ruby Hill (Entangled Ever After) by Sarah Ballance Page B

to defend it. Ashley didn’t care what the media reported. Whoever committed the murders inside Ruby Hill was no ghost.
    That single point was probably the only one on which she and Corbin would agree.
    He didn’t believe in ghosts. And after Cash’s death, he stopped believing in her. In fact, she was the only person Corbin blamed more than himself. Because when Corbin couldn’t stop Cash, Ashley should have.
    She shook her head, biting down a flare of anger until her teeth hurt. She didn’t deserve his blame, but that didn’t stop her from carrying it around for the past few months. A slew of profane sentiments, each laced with Corbin’s name, grazed her lips, but she didn’t release them into the damp air.
    She couldn’t.
    Ruby Hill felt different this night. The air vibrated with a dark intensity, setting forth a chill untouched by the unseasonal heat. She could easily blame Corbin, but the feeling had been there from the start—long before he’d unfolded himself from the passenger seat and shifted her already unsteady axis.
    Something wasn’t right in this, her place of solace.
    Behind her, the concrete walls whispered discord. On the weedy, derelict lawn, shadows grew long with the encroaching eve. The wrought iron gate marking the asylum entrance sent elongated threats, sharp fingers pointing away from the imposing batwing complex.
    Lunatics. Ghosts. Murder.
    The media grabbed the story like rabid dogs, shredding and tearing the meat of the so-called facts until nothing was left but gristle and hyped-up gore. Rumors took flight. Poltergeists, demons, a portal to hell, and all because torture had to leave a mark. Ruby Hill certainly had.
    So had Corbin Malone.
    From the drive, Corbin twisted his head her way. The moment his eyes met hers left a scar on her heart.
    Either he hid his emotion well or he lacked any. Not a flicker of reaction crossed his face. He simply turned to watch the car retreat through the gate, a security guard stepping over to shut and lock the leggy ten-foot barrier as soon as the vehicle’s rear bumper cleared.
    Then, in a move so painstakingly slow it had to be deliberate, Corbin found her again. Blue eyes pierced her with such force she took a step backward. As she stumbled, the slowest of smiles crept across his face.
    But he was not the threat.
    She heard the asylum’s whispers. This was personal.
    She hugged herself tightly.
    Yer gonna die.

Chapter Two
    That filthy bastard.
    Corbin stared ahead, feet rooted to the ground and hackles raised. He’d signed up—albeit with venom-laden reluctance—to spend the night in an asylum. He’d agreed to a night with the purported ghosts of Ruby Hill. But this —this unholy clusterfuck that started and ended with Ashley Pearce—had not been on his radar.
    Joe had done a fine job of leaving out that detail.
    Corbin bared his teeth, and not out of giddiness. He’d screwed things up with Ashley by blaming then shutting her out when his brother died. His nagging conscience hadn’t let him forget the gravity of that mistake, but in the midst of all of his thrashing from grief, turning to her hadn’t been an option. It wasn’t until she stopped calling that he realized how empty he was without her, and by then it was too late. She was gone, and he was left to deal with yet another loss.
    And now irony had bitten him in the ass. The one point of contention he and Ashley ever shared was over the paranormal—not only did she believe in ghosts…she claimed she communicated with them. They’d joked about it, though she maintained a short fuse on the topic, and by his estimate he’d taken an axe to the majority of said fuse when he shut her out.
    Screw the murderous ghosts. The real monster inside Ruby Hill would be him.
    He glanced toward the rented security guard, whose sole job was to remain visible at the gate. The real cops were tucked in all over the place, although two hundred acres made a hell of an area to cover. And for how long?