Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2026

  All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,

  associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of

  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).

  No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (including via carrier pigeon),

  without written permission of the author and publisher.

  Author: Crumley, M.M.

  Title: GHOST GUY: HELL TO PAY

  ISBN: 9798245606385

  Target Audience: Adult

  Also available in this series

  Subjects:

  Urban Fantasy/ Horror Comedy

  This is a work of fiction, which means it’s made up. Names, characters, peoples, locales, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) are either gifts of the ether, products of the author’s resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  M.M. Crumley Book List

  Urban Fantasy

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY SERIES

  BOOK 1: HIDDEN

  BOOK 2: COUP D'ÉTAT

  BOOK 3: RUTHLESS

  BOOK 4: INSTINCT

  BOOK 5: ROGUES

  BOOK 6: EMPIRE

  BOOK 7: OMENS

  BOOK 8: CHASM

  BOOK 9: FERAL

  BOOK 10: OBLIVION

  BOOK 11: RELENTLESS

  BOOK 12: REQUIEM

  BOOK 13: HELLION

  BOOK 14: SHADOWS

  BOOK 15: INDEBTED

  BOOK 16: FATHOM

  BOOK 17: FEROCITY

  BOOK 18: ONSLAUGHT

  BOOK 19: ECHOES

  BOOK 20: TEMPEST

  GHOST GUY SERIES

  BOOK 1: HELL TO PAY

  BOOK 2: LENGTH OF DAYS

  JANEY FALKE SAINT KILLER SERIES

  BOOK 1: BLOOD OATH

  BOOK 2: BLOOD TIES

  BOOK 3: BLOOD FEUD

  BOOK 4: BLOOD LUST

  THE HOUSE OF GRAVES SERIES

  BOOK 1: THREE LITTLE GRAVES & THE BIG BAD WOLF

  BOOK 2: OVER THE RIVER & THROUGH THE WOOD

  BOOK 3: FIRE BURN & CAULDRON BUBBLE

  BOOK 4: A HUNTING, A HUNTING WE WILL GO

  BOOK 5: AND HE WALKED A CROOKED MILE

  BOOK 6: HOLIDAY SPECIAL: DECK THE HALLS

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS SERIES

  BOOK 1: DARK AWAKENING

  BOOK 2: BONE DEEP

  BOOK 3: BLOOD STAINED

  BOOK 4: BURIAL GROUND

  BOOK 5: DEATH SONG

  BOOK 6: FUNERAL MARCH

  BOOK 7: WARPATH

  Writing as M.M. Boulder

  Psych Thrillers

  THE LAST DOOR

  MY BETTER HALF

  THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

  MY ONE AND ONLY

  WE ALL FALL DOWN

  To find me on Facebook, just search for M.M. Crumley

  Visit my website at www.mmcrumley.com

  Character List:

  Nevin Tucker/TJ Bryant (ghost): our intrepid hero

  Aaren Graves (witch): member of the Graves family

  Apollo (ghost): the ghost who inhabits Tucker's house

  Badri (elf): the Graves' cook

  Baker Children—Johnny, Jules, Addison (witches)

  Bill (ghost): ghost Tucker used to hang with

  Black Shaman (shaman): the villain of the Andrew Rufus series

  Bluegrass (shaman): the previous owner of Tucker's house, deceased

  Cadwel Wolves (shapeshifters): an elite Hidden family

  Curtis Nash (troll): Tessa's business partner; Ollie's lover

  D-Dog/Doc Holliday/Hans (norm): Tucker's friend

  Dulcis Requiem: Doc's hotel

  Fernsby (witch): Denver's leading hypnotist

  Frankie Foxall (shaman) the Baker children's adopted sister

  Gac (ghost): kidnapped Tucker to get to D-Dog

  Gisele Graves (norm): Tessa's grandmother, Ollie's mother

  James (vampire): one of Jervis's employees

  J-Dog/Thomas Jury (witch): Tucker's friend

  Jervis (vampire): Doc's manager & friend

  Julian LaRoche (Roma): Tessa's husband

  Magnus (Myhanava): the Graves' butler

  Mrs. Haveland/Aylen (shaman): Doc's friend; she can heal practically anything

  Ollie Graves (norm): Tessa's aunt

  Simon Redgrove (Takaheni): current tetrarch of the Hidden, businessman

  Sissy Bryant (norm): Tucker's sister, deceased

  Tessa Graves (norm): private investigator who works within the Hidden

  Thaddeus (norm): Doc's plant, a man in plant form

  The Hidden: the hidden world within the norm world where cryptids live

  Virgil Graves (norm): Tessa's father, deceased

  Winslow (norm): Jervis's assistant

  Book 1:

  Hell To Pay

  M.M. Crumley

  To traversing the hell that's inside us all…

  Series Note:

  My wonderful readers:

  I'm so thrilled to share this new story with you! Tucker has always fascinated me and watching him mature is just so much fun.

  We first met Tucker in The Immortal Doc Holliday Book 6. He has been in several books since, and Doc recently introduced him to the Graves family, who play a prominent role in this book. Tucker's introduction to the Graves family happens after the conclusion of their own series, so if you haven't already read the entire six-book House of Graves Series, you will miss out on a few of the subtleties between the secondary characters. For ultimate impact and understanding, I really suggest reading the Graves series first.

  That being said, there are, of course, no rules to reading; and you can enjoy my series in whatever order you like!

  Thank you so much for joining Tucker on his journey to manhood. I'm excited to see how he turns out, pink hair and all!

  All my best,

  M.M.

  Chapter 1

  Nevin Tucker stared intently at his cards, mentally removing them from the bank of potentials. If his calculations were correct, Apollo's hand was trash. However, there were fifty-two cards total and only ten on the table, which left forty-two cards unaccounted for; so really, it was anyone's game.

  "Call," Tucker said, channeling his deepest voice.

  Apollo laid his cards onto the table and announced haughtily, "Two queens, ace high."

  "Well, shit," Tucker muttered. "That's the third time this week. Are you sure you aren't cheating?"

  "I do not cheat," Apollo snorted. "Bach. 'Brandenburg Concerto no. 1 in F major.'"

  Tucker swallowed a really naughty word and said, "You can listen to Bachy all you want; I have a meeting with a client."

  "Not until three o'clock," Apollo retorted.

  "You're kind of an ass," Tucker grumbled.

  "What would you have chosen?"

  "No Doubt; 'It's My Life.'"

  Apollo rolled his eyes. It was a strange look for him. Men dressed in togas or robes or whatever the hell Apollo was wearing shouldn't roll their eyes. If it wasn't a law, it should be.

  Apollo snapped his fingers, and Bach began to play.

  "I'm tearing out the surround," Tucker muttered.

  But Apollo wasn't listening. At least not to Tucker. His eyes were closed, his mouth was half open, and he was swaying back and forth a little, waving his hands with the music.

  "I'm leaving," Tucker said loudly.

  Apollo didn't respond.

  Tucker stood with a sigh and headed towards the door. He liked Apollo a lot, but some days he swore Apollo was an ass on purpose. Like it was somehow Tucker's fault that he couldn't leave the house. If Apollo had wanted to move around, he should have possessed a body, not a frigging house; and Tucker didn't see how he could possibly be blamed for that.

  The door opened just before Tucker reached it, and he called out "thanks" before stepping out into the overloaded church parking lot.

  He still didn't understand why everyone else couldn't see his house. It was clear as day to him, although it did look a little odd tucked up against the big church building.

  Tucker had to accept that most people couldn't see it though because no one ever knocked on the door or looked his way when he was coming or going. But even if people couldn't see it, shouldn't they be bumping into it every now and then? Or maybe trying to park on it? This was Denver, and parking was scarce, so he couldn't quite figure out why no one ever tried.

  Tessa Graves had taken the time to explain that that wasn't how it worked. According to her, hidden was hidden; and norms, or humans, couldn't see it, couldn't touch it, couldn't run tell their mommy about it, and certainly couldn't park on it.

  The only reason Tucker could see his house was because some witch dude had given him the sight. Anyone with the sight could see Tucker's house. Which made Tucker wonder just what the hell the sight was.

  Tessa had explained that too. Tessa explained a lot of things, but Tucker rarely understood. He liked it better when Aaren explained things.

  Aaren had said that Hidden buildings were hidden away insid
e little pockets of reality. He had said that a reality pocket was just like a pant pocket; if it was done right, no one even knew it was there.

  That made sense to Tucker. Sort of.

  Regardless of everyone's explanations though, there were a lot things that didn't make sense to him, and even more things that he just couldn't seem to wrap his mind around. He had to accept that ghosts were real because he was one.

  But witchcraft that made it possible for a hidden world to exist alongside the regular world? He had seen it, so he had to believe it, but his mind kept trying to find reasons why it wasn't possible.

  And ogres? There was simply no good reason why ogres should exist. But they did.

  The thought of ogres sent a shudder through his entire body, and Tucker let it wiggle out of his fingertips before pulling everything back under control and checking the time on his phone.

  His client meeting wasn't until three which meant that he had hours and hours to kill. Okay, so he had like three hours to kill which wasn't bad, but he really shouldn't have bothered to set an alarm today. He could have easily slept until one and still gotten everything done. And maybe then he wouldn't have to listen to boring Bach all day.

  He got why Apollo couldn't change his clothes. He was a ghost, and ghosts wore whatever they were wearing when they died. But there was no good reason why Apollo couldn't update his taste in music.

  "Nevin!" someone called out.

  "Shit," Tucker hissed.

  He glanced over his shoulder, saw the woman chasing after him, and tried to decide if he could run for it; but she had already grabbed his arm by the time he realized he couldn't.

  "Would you just leave me alone?" Tucker complained.

  "Instead, why don't you explain to me what the fuck is wrong with you?" she snapped.

  He rolled his eyes, sighed, and tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him.

  "Look, lady—"

  She snarled, and he rolled his eyes once more. For a detective, she was remarkably thickheaded.

  "Detective Parker—"

  She snarled again.

  "Darcie," he sighed.

  "It's been five years, Nevin," she said irritably. "When are you going to get over it? Sure, it was upsetting, but you didn't even know the kid. And you tried. You tried to save him. Why are you throwing everything away? This is your last chance. The captain's done. I can't pull any more strings for you. Walk away, and it's over. Your career is done; you're done."

  None of what she said mattered to him because Detective Parker was talking about someone else's career, and Tucker was sick of having this conversation every couple of months. She was like one of those dogs that just wouldn't stop gnawing no matter how many times it got hit on the head with a rolled-up newspaper.

  "And if the captain finds out that you've been working with the Graves agency, you're really done," Darcie snarled. "Do you hear me, Nevin? All your hard work just flushed down the drain!"

  Curiosity got the better of him, and Tucker said, "Because of the Graves? Why?"

  "Are you fucking kidding me?" Darcie exclaimed. "The Graves were all tied up in that missing person's case six or seven years ago, but when the captain tried to pursue it, he got shut down cold. There are just some people you can't touch," she said bitterly, "and the Graves are one of them."

  "That Virgil dude's dead," Tucker said. "And Tessa's not like that," he added, not really sure why he was trying to defend them. He barely knew them, and some of the rumors he had heard made them seem worse than ogres; but since D-Dog had vouched for them, the Graves were cool in Tucker's book.

  Darcie's eyes narrowed angrily, and Tucker wished he had kept his mouth shut.

  "Just come in with me, Nevin," she pleaded. "Talk to the psychiatrist. Please."

  He wasn't doing this for another five years.

  "Listen, lady, sorry, Darcie, I'm sorry. I'm not who you think I am. Just give it up."

  She didn't, and she wouldn't. Dog, bone, stubborn.

  She ranted and raved for five whole minutes about how he was throwing away his life, throwing away everything he had worked so hard to achieve; and by the time she was finished, Tucker felt like shit. Because he wasn't Nevin Tucker. He was the kid Nevin Tucker had been trying to save.

  "You're kind of a shit detective, aren't you?" he said when Darcie stopped to take a breath.

  "What?" she snapped.

  "You were partners with Nevin for how long? Six years? And you can't even tell? I mean, geez, do I have to draw you a picture? I'm not him! Sure, this is his body, but me…"

  Tucker pointed towards his chest and laughed humorlessly, "I'm the kid. Nevin died trying to save me, and I repaid him by taking over his body and ruining his career. But really, did you really want a ten-year-old boy running around with a gun? I don't think so."

  It was hard to smile because he was feeling so rotten, but he did anyway. He smiled, and he said, "I'm not Nevin, so let it go already. And while you're at it, would you tell his family to back off? I can't be who they want me to be. I'm not him."

  Darcie stared up at him, her face caught somewhere between disbelief and distress.

  "And if you're still too stubborn to believe me," Tucker went on, "I'll prove it to you. When I died, TJ Bryant, the boy, I had a twenty dollar bill in my pocket. And how would I know that if I wasn't TJ?" Tucker announced triumphantly.

  "If you gave the boy the twenty," Darcie snapped back.

  God, she was difficult. And a little stupid. She had partnered with Nevin for six long years; she should be able to tell the difference.

  "Fine," Tucker sighed. "TJ, me, the boy, had a dope scar on his ass. It's like two inches long, and I got it falling off a retaining wall near our apartment building. A piece of rebar got me on the way down. Sissy managed to yell and cry at the same time," he said, grinning at the memory. "Anyway, check it out, and then leave me the hell alone."

  With that, he shook off her grip and headed down the sidewalk, fighting the urge to run.

  For five years, he had been afraid, but he had finally confessed the truth to her. Five years ago, he had been afraid they would lock him up; five years ago, he had been afraid they would experiment on him. Five years ago, he had been afraid they would kill him.

  But he wasn't afraid anymore. At least not much. D-Dog had promised to break Tucker out of jail or the insane asylum or whatever, and Tucker believed him. It was common knowledge that Doc Holliday always kept his word; if he said he would break Tucker out, he would break Tucker out. End of story.

  So yeah, let Darcie tell everyone. No one would believe her; and if they came knocking on Tucker's door, not that they could find it, he would just send them Doc's way.

  Tucker glanced over his shoulder, sighing with relief when he saw that Detective Parker hadn't followed him. He couldn't believe she was still harassing him after all these years, and all he could think was that the real Nevin Tucker must have been one helluva cool dude.

  Tucker had only known Nevin for the span of a minute or two, but he had gotten the impression that he wasn't one of those guys who just said they cared about people, he actually did. And back then, Tucker could have counted on one hand the people he knew like that.

  Dying had certainly changed things.

  His entire life he had only had Sissy.

  "Twenty-two," Tucker said.

  That was the number of signs he had passed since leaving behind a gaping Detective Parker.

  Signs were boring though, so he started estimating the number of windows in the building up ahead.

  "Twenty-four floors," he murmured. "And probably six windows per floor per side, or thirty-six, depending on how you figure a window." He supposed he got to decide, and since the number would be larger if it was thirty-six, he went with that. "So three thousand four hundred and fifty-six windows," he said. "Impressive."

  He couldn't quite imagine the transportation of so many panes of glass, but he tried anyway. He would rather think about anything, even glass, than Sissy. Not that he wanted to forget her; he just didn't want to think about her.

  The muffled tunes of an old song began to play, and Tucker pulled out his phone, relieved to have a distraction.

  "Ghost Guy at your service," he announced when he answered.

  "Don't you look at your caller ID?" Ollie Graves demanded.

  He never bothered; and anyway, someone, he thought it was his second business manager, had advised him to always answer the phone in a professional manner. Jervis had fired that guy for some reason, but Tucker liked saying Ghost Guy, so he almost always followed the rule.