Ghost of a Chance

Brenda rolled off of Tom to lie beside him in his bed, sweating and panting. She draped her leg over one of his as he wrapped an arm around her to cuddle her, rubbing her back.

"Mmm," she purred, "I think I like waking up with morning sex." She traced a fingertip down his chest and belly to caress his cock, making him moan in satisfaction.

"I could get use to it," he said in a tired voice as his hand slid down to rub her butt.

She smiled and kissed him, then rose off the bed, "I'm going to shower; you've got clean towels, right?"

"Yes, in the closet."

"How's your arm, still sore?"

Tom looked at the bandage covering a long, but shallow gash along his forearm. A present from one of the sick lowlifes that tortured some young girls at a dorm party they peeped in on. He thanked the young man by slamming his head into the wall and leaving him tied up for the police to haul away.

"Actually, it's not that bad anymore; still a little stiff. I'll change the bandage after I start the coffee."

Brenda trotted off to the bathroom while Tom pulled on a T-shirt and some sweatpants, and headed for the kitchen. Clicking the coffee maker on, he gently peeled back the tape on his arm, wincing when it pulled a couple of hairs, and removed the bandage. The wound had already scabbed over leaving only a hint of pink around the edges; no infection had set in. He sprayed some more disinfectant onto the area and put a fresh bandage over it, again wincing as the healing mist started stinging his skin.

Okay, maybe a little infection left, he thought.

Just as the coffee maker finished bubbling out the last of the brew, the doorbell chimed and Tom answered it, wondering who it could be this early in the morning.

It was a tall man with a manila file in his hand, wearing a sleepy look and a well worn suit jacket, the strap of a gun holster not quite hidden under it, "Thomas Pierce?"

"Yes, that's me," Tom nodded.

"Sergeant Robert Trent, detectives' division," the man flashed a badge and continued, "I need to speak with you about an incident that occurred two nights ago."

"All right; come on in," Tom let the officer inside, his stomach fluttering as he closed the door. "Would you care for some coffee? Just made a fresh pot."

"No, thank you," Trent said, getting down to business, "Mr. Pierce, I need to know where you were the night before last around 10:30."

Uh oh; okay, just play it straight but play it cool.

"I was at a party," Tom answered as he poured himself a mug.

"On the college campus?"

"Yes; I left right around the time you mentioned." Tom casually walked around the officer, seeing him eyeing this or that around the living room.

"How long were you there?"

"A couple of hours." When Trent turned to look at something on the couch, Tom felt a quick tap on his shoulder telling him Brenda was right behind him, undoubtedly invisible. Then he saw Trent carefully pick up a garment off the couch's arm.

"Not yours, I take it," he said with a smirk, dangling the pink bra on his finger.

"You take correctly," Tom shot back, matching his smirk, "That belongs to my girlfriend."

"Is she here?" Trent dropped the bra back onto the sofa.

Tom thumbed behind him, "In the shower."

"Did she go to this party, too?"

"She invited me; she works in one of the dorms."

"I'll need to speak with her, too."

Tom held out his hand, offering the chair beside the officer. They both sat waiting for Brenda to come out, Trent idly glancing at the bandage on Tom's arm.

"Must have been some party," he said, nodding at his arm.

"This was from... work; I fix things," Tom answered, absently rubbing at his forearm, "occupational hazard."

Trent's eyebrow shot up suddenly when Brenda walked out of the bathroom wearing a towel and rubbing at her hair with a smaller one.

"Is the coffee ready, Tom? Oh!" she voiced surprise, grasping at the towel that didn't quite cover her body, "Sorry, I didn't know you had company."

"It's okay; this is Detective Trent," Tom waved a hand, "This is Brenda Johnson."

"Miss," Trent tipped his head to her, spying some wet flesh peeking out from the opening where the towel gaped.

Brenda shrugged, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I need to ask you some questions, Miss Johnson; were you at a dorm party with Tom two nights ago around 10:00 or so?"

"Yes, I invited him there."

"Are you a student?"

"I work in that dorm; I'm the house mother and I tutor some of the students... well, at least I did; classes are over for the summer."

Trent nodded slowly, "What time did you leave?"

"Well, we were only there for a couple of hours. The kids were getting a little... rambunctious with there fun, if you know what I mean. So we congratulated them and left them to their partying. I think it was almost 10:30 when we left."

"And you came back here?"

Brenda grinned seductively, "Yes... and last night, too."

Trent didn't even crack a smile at that and continued, "Do you know anything about the incident that happened in one of the rooms?"

"We heard something about it," said Tom, a trickle of worry running down his spine.

"Oh, I think you did more than just 'hear' about it," Trent said, opening the file and thumbing through the contents. He pulled out a piece of paper and held it out for Tom to look at. "This is the result of a sample test on a piece of fabric we found in the room where an assault took place. Your blood was on it."

Oh, shit! The knife attack! I knew there was something that was wrong. "My blood?" he asked, feinting confusion.

"We collected samples that matched up to everyone that was in the room at the time of the attacks: four male students from another college, four females that were raped and assaulted by them... and you." He slipped the paper back into the file and stepped up to Tom, "There was no trace of you on any of the victims; that tells me you weren't involved in any sexual assault that we know of. But that fabric sample also tells me that you were in that room with them. So, what I want to know is: what were you doing there?"

Tom decided to just come out with it and hope the consequences wouldn't be that bad; the detective had hard evidence right in front of him so there was no ducking out of it.

"Yes, I was in there. I saw two guys standing outside the door, guarding it. They didn't go to that college, so I went up to them and asked them what they were doing there..."

"... and you beat the shit out of them?" Trent asked.

"I heard what was going on in the room, Detective. Yes, I punched their tickets in..."

"...and zip tied them? That's convenient."

"I told you I fix things; I happened to have them on me, so I used them." Tom was starting to get hot.

"And then?"

"I busted into the room and saw what was going on, so I took out the other two and untied the girls."

"Yes," Trent started pacing, tapping the folder against his chin, "the girls said someone came in and helped them. Pretty brave of you taking on four big college guys by yourself... or were you by yourself?"

Tom scowled, "What's that suppose to mean?" Brenda placed her hand on his back and squeezed, telling him to calm down.

"The witnesses said that there were two people helping them."

"No, it was just me," Tom said, trying to keep an even and convincing voice, "Brenda waited for me out in the car while I went back in to get my keys I left in her room. A girl ran passed me all beat up, so I checked out what was going on and found those guys assaulting three more. I took them out, freed the girls, and told them to call the cops."

"And you didn't feel it necessary to stick around?" Trent raised an eyebrow to him.

"I didn't feel like being a hero, okay?"

"No it's not 'okay', Mr. Pierce," said Trent hotly, "You're a material witness to multiple assaults, some of which you were responsible for," he got right in Tom's face, "and you're not telling me everything."

Now Tom was really getting upset and shouted, "I told you what happened!"

"But not all of it!" Trent fired back, "You left out the part about not being seen!"

Tom's brow climbed up, "What are you talking about? You've got witnesses that said I was there helping them!"

"'Helping' yes," Trent dug out another paper from his folder, "but one of them said she couldn't see you."

"It was dark in the room; I could barely see anything either."

"That's not what she meant," Trent held up the paper, "She said that her 'savior'... was invisible."

"That's ridiculous!" Brenda now chimed in, "She must have been out of it; she was hurt, after all!"

"Yeah, so ridiculous that we have reports from at least three dozen other witnesses claiming the same thing: criminals saying they were beat up by invisible ghosts; victims saying they were rescued by them." Trent now stared at Brenda carefully, and his brow went up as well, "Yes... now I know you: Brenda Johnson. Yes, I remember you, too. You're in one of the case files we have; an attempted rape victim." His lip curled up in a sneer, "You claimed that your benefactor was invisible, too."

Both Tom and Brenda remained silent; what could they say? Trent was on to them.

"Look," the detective sighed, impatiently, "I don't know how you're doing it or what you're using to do it with, but I'm pretty sure of one thing," he stared Tom dead in the eye, "It was you. You... are this 'Ghost' character they keep talking about. You're the one taking out dirtbags left and right; you," he then glared at Brenda, "and your partner."

Tom remained indignant while Brenda's lips were pulled down into a scowl. "Well," she grumbled, "it was fun while it lasted."

Trent just smirked and resumed his pacing, "How are you doing it, this 'not being seen' thing?"

Neither of them uttered a word.

Trent's smirk disappeared, "You realize I could haul both of you in on charges right now."

"What charges?" Brenda asked, nostrils flaring.

"Aggravated and felonious assault, for starters; illegal entry, battery, tampering with and removing evidence from a crime scene, and those are just off the top of my head."

"All of which were done against people who were doing something bad to someone else... and that you have no proof of," Brenda spat out.

The detective balked a little at that, but pressed on, "Have you two kept track of how many people you've managed to hurt and put in the hospital?"

Tom stepped up; he had heard enough, "Alright, fine; so you know. It was us, but like she said: you have no real proof, just hearsay and speculation. Now let me ask you a question Detective, and answer me honestly: who have we hurt?"

Trent started to say something but stopped himself, his face getting as hard as stone as Tom went on, "Yeah, that's right: criminals; degenerates that don't give a damn about anyone or anything but themselves. Scumbags that do whatever they please, hurt whomever they want, and take from hard working, decent folks that count on you guys to protect them and keep them safe... and don't." Trent's brow dropped at that, Tom knowing he struck a nerve, "And all because 'they can'; they don't respect the law because they never obey it. They don't care about common decency because they don't have any!"

"And that gives you the right to take the law into your own hands?" Trent spat at him.

"Somebody has to do something about it," Tom narrowed the gap between them, "because you clowns certainly aren't!" Trent was almost nose to nose with Tom when Brenda intervened.

"Alright, that's enough! We're not getting anywhere with this!" She then turned to Trent, still hanging onto the towel around her body, "Look, all we were doing was helping those who needed it. A lot worse could have happened to them if we hadn't done something."

The detective nailed her point blank with a glare and asked, "Why? Why are you two doing this?"

Tom answered the detective, "Because nobody else can."

Trent folded his arms in a huff and asked, "And just what the Hell is that suppose to mean? You think I've worn this badge for almost twenty years for nothing?"

"You're a cop, and you know as well as I do that you can only go so far with that badge and gun. The criminals know it, too; they're the ones with all the rights, all the privileges allowed by the law."

"That's the way it is, Pierce. Until a better system comes along..." But Tom cut him off.

"Yeah, until then what are their victims left with? Fear and pain, broken spirits, and shattered lives. Where are their rights?"

"They get justice when their attackers are put behind bars."

"A small consolation, considering the criminals already know how the court system works better than the lawyers do. And for someone with nothing to lose, a bed and three meals a day without working or paying taxes for it would be paradise, while their victims try to cope with the loss of security... or a loved one."

"As long as their locked up, they can't hurt anyone else," Trent counter.

But Tom immediately fired back with, "The way the system is set up, most of them are back on the streets in a few months or a few years and pick up right where they left off: doing whatever they please and ruining lives in the process," He put on a dour look and, "The criminals know they can get away with it, because they're not afraid of you, their victims, or anything the law can throw at them. But thanks to us..." Tom's look changed from dour to rancorous, "they have a reason to be afraid now."

Trent was silent for a moment or two, then, "Criminals or not, you're violating their rights."

"I seriously doubt their victims would agree with you," said Brenda with a sarcastic sneer.

"And I'm almost certain that the people we've helped would be on our side of the argument," Tom picked up, "So I ask you again, Detective: who have we hurt?"

Again, Trent took a moment to answer, then, "Even though the 'help' you're handing out is stopping criminals, it still doesn't make it right."

"Probably not, but it does make it...'even'. It's no longer tilted in the criminals' favor; we're helping to level the playing field." Tom felt his confidence become rock solid for the first time in a long while, then Brenda backed him up with, "Hell, you should be thanking us; we're making your job easier."

"That is entirely beside the point, young lady," Trent huffed, then closed his eyes and let out his breath slowly, "Look, I can understand what you two are trying to do and between you and me, you actually are helping out the people of this city to a degree. However... you're still breaking the law."

"Like we said: you have no proof of that."

Trent just glared at Tom and held up the file in his hand.

"One piece of evidence that says I was at a crime scene, and witnesses that said I helped to save them. What do you think the courts will say?"

Trent sighed, already knowing the answer, "More than likely... they'd dismiss the charges on 'self defense' grounds. At worst, suspend the sentence, if any, and give you probation." He and the pair of heroes just stood in the living room contemplating their views in silence for a minute, then he asked, "What do you think I should do with you two?"

Tom blinked, not moving, "It's your call, Detective."

For a split second, Trent considered calling in back up and having the pair placed under arrest. Instead, he headed for the door, but turned as he grabbed the doorknob, "I need some time to think about this one. Just for the sake of argument, I'm giving you two the benefit of the doubt, because I think you really are trying to help." He held up the file, "I'll keep this buried for now, but do me a favor: don't leave town, and don't go out and perform any 'good citizen' routines for a while. I'll be in touch." With that, the detective left the house.

"Oh, Christ!" Tom slapped his forehead and started sputtering, "I fucking knew it! I knew something like this could happen! In the back of my mind, I always thought that someone would..."

"Now Tom, don't start panicking yet," said Brenda, holding his arm.

"I'm not 'starting' anything; we're way passed the point of 'panicking'!" He glanced at Brenda, and suddenly felt a little better when a bit of humor leaped into his mind, "and you were putting on a show for him."

Brenda just shrugged, "Just trying to distract him."

"Your nipples are showing."

Brenda looked down and saw that both of her nipples were peeking out over the top of the towel. She yelped a little and blushed, realizing she was giving the detective a free peep, and couldn't quite hide the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"It's a good thing you came out of the bathroom; our stories wouldn't have matched up too well."

Brenda nodded, "I heard you talking to someone right before I jumped into the shower, so I put my ring on and snuck in."

"You didn't make the floor disappear," Tom noted.

"I put on my socks. After you two sat down, I got in the shower for a second and came out." But Brenda sighed, adding, "It still didn't help much, though; he already figured it out."

Tom slumped down on the couch, still aggravated and worried. "What the Hell are we going to do, Brenda?"

"For now... nothing," she answered, sitting next to him, "You just said it's his call."

Tom nodded, "He's 'letting it go' for now; he's still trying to figure out what to do next. He's got evidence, but nothing solid on our 'hero' work. It just proves that I was there at the dorm, but it doesn't prove that I'm the Ghost. He guessed right about us, but that's all it was: a guess."

Brenda rubbed his shoulder, "So, what do you think he'll do about it?"

"I don't know; that's what worries me the most."

Brenda leaned on his shoulder, "Maybe we should cool it for a while; no sense in aggravating the situation any more than it is now."

"Whether we take it easy or not, this whole thing could explode any minute, and Trent's got the match to light the fuse."

They both stayed silent for a while, then Brenda thought of something, "Tom, do you think we could trust him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Remember when I asked you if you knew anyone on the police force, and you said 'no'?"

"Yes," he answered slowly and cautiously.

"Well... you do now." Tom started to speak, but Brenda cut him off, "Now just hear me out on this. If we would be willing to help him out with some police matters, he might be willing to help us by not spilling the beans about our 'activities'."

"And let him blackmail us?

"With what? He's got no proof, you just said so."

"One slip, one word into a criminal's ear is all it would take for them to come looking for us and get some payback."

"He doesn't look like the type to slip up on anything, and it did seem like you had him convinced of our good intentions for a second."

Tom paused, thinking hard about their encounter with Trent. At the end, he was obviously torn about what to do; otherwise he would have slapped handcuffs on the pair and arrested both of them right then and there. He had no solid proof of their identities and he knew it.

But there was something else about him, almost as if his 'wait and see' posture was hiding a 'let's see what they can do for me' kind of notion.

Could they trust him? Could they even team up, maybe work together for the greater good? Unofficially, of course; 'off the books', so to speak. Tom wasn't quite convinced.

Tom laid his head back on the couch and blew out his breath slowly, "I think we should just do what he suggested. We should chill out on this for a while."

"Well the 'hero' stuff, yeah," Brenda agreed, "But what about our 'fun'?"

Tom saw the grin on her face and said, "Well, he didn't say we couldn't have... 'fun', now did he?"

Brenda started giggling as Tom reached inside of her towel and pulled it off of her, fondling her luscious, naked curves and lovingly kissed her.