Page 11 of Haunted

Taking a step closer to her, I plaster on a smile I normally hate using because I detest manipulation. But desperate times and all that shit, and I really need to know this woman’s name.

“Edith,” I say, using a husky tone. “I promise I mean no harm to this woman. I’d just really like to know her name. You make it sound like she rarely gets visitors, so me visiting her is a good thing, right? Means she’s not alone.”

She bites her lip, and I can see the wheels turning in her head on whether she should tell me or not. I know I’m being an ass for trying to persuade her to break the rules. She could be fired if the hospital finds out she willingly gave out confidential information about a patient. But it’s just a name.

I keep my smile in place as she wars with her choice. Thankfully, after a minute she makes the decision in my favor.

“Jules,” she answers kindly.

No last name. I can work with that.

I look away from Edith and down at the woman in the bed. “Jules,” I murmur quietly.

The name is beautiful, and it fits her. She looks like a jewel lying there in a bed of silk. Except this bed of silk is actually cotton.

Keeping my eyes on her, I ask Edith, “What’s wrong with her?”

She moves around to the other side of the bed and adjusts the covers.

“Coma.”

I jerk my head in her direction. “Excuse me?”

She nods and smiles sadly. “Head injury. She’s been in a coma for seven years. There’s brain activity, so she’s not vegetative. Her body just refuses to wake up.”

Fuck, I silently curse to myself. Seven damn years. That’s a long time to be in a coma.

A few minutes later, Edith leaves the room, warning me to not stay long since technically I’m not supposed to be in here.

I look down at the limp hand that’s resting by her hip. Her fingers are slender and delicate. Reaching out, I lay the tips ofmy fingers on the back of her hand. I’ve tried so many times to touch her in my dreams, but something always stops me. The second my fingers graze her skin, a bolt of electricity zaps me. I don’t know if it’s static or some other kind of weird force. My eyes spring to her face, half expecting her to be awake from the shock of awareness. Her eyes are still closed, and it looks like she’s simply sleeping.

“Who are you?” I ask the question I’ve asked so many times in my dreams.

And just like every other time, I get the same answer in return.

Silence.

4

LUCA

ISTOMP UP THE porch steps to the expensive-looking pristine white house and stop at the front door. Thumps come from inside from a stereo system. Lifting my hand, I use the side of my fist to bang loudly on the black door.

As soon as it swings open to reveal just the person I’m looking for, I reach out and wrap my hand around his throat. His glassy eyes spring wide open. I shove him inside and kick the door closed behind me. I keep my forward momentum until I have him slammed against the wall. He grabs at my wrist and tries to pry my hand away. It only pisses me off, so I squeeze a little harder. His face turns red and his grunts of distress fill my ears.

A magical fucking sound.

“You made a big mistake fucking with my sister, Chase,” I snarl in his face.

His eyes widen more and sweat from fear beads on his forehead. I feel his throat bob as he tries to swallow under my palm.

My reputation isn’t just known on my side of the tracks. It’sknown on this side too. That he thought he could get away with fucking over my sister makes him stupider than he looks.

When his face turns a purplish red and his eyes start bugging out, I loosen my grip just enough for him to pull in a wheezy breath.

“I d-don’t know what y-you’re t-talking about,” he manages to get past his constricted airway.

I bare my teeth and add more pressure around his throat.

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