Page 22 of Haunted

I SIT UP IN BED WITH a snarl and angrily untwist the sheets from my legs before throwing them off me. Anger has my hands shaking as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and plant my feet on the hardwood floor, hunching over with my elbows on my knees. My head hangs, disgust at myself twisting my stomach.

I’ve never felt possessive over a woman, and this is the first time feeling it for Jules after all the dreams I’ve had of her or the few times I’ve visited her in the hospital. To feel that way for a woman I don’t know, a woman who’s my brother’s wife, makes me one fucked-up person, and an even worse brother. But seeing him with his arms wrapped around her, smelling her, touching his lips to hers, brought on a rage I’ve never felt before. Even the look in his eyes, the one that said she was his everything, couldn’t dampen that anger. I should be happy that Theofound someone that makes him feel that way, but my mind keeps screaming,mine!

Spotting the half-empty glass on the nightstand, I grab it and hurl it across the room with a roar. Glass shatters against the wall, the water splashing everywhere.

Using the heel of my hand, I hit the side of my head, needing those possessive thoughts gone. All I manage to do is make the pounding in my head worse.

Frustrated, I get up, go to the bathroom, dump several pain pills in my hand, and swallow them dry. After slipping on a pair of shorts and a shirt, I pull on socks and my shoes. Going out to the living room, I swipe my keys off the counter and slam my way out the front door. There’s one sure way to release the mounting anger sweeping through me, and I just happen to have the keys.

It’s dark and cold outside, but I welcome the chill as I make my way to my truck. The drive is short, and the roads are deserted except for a few suspect people walking the streets. I pull down a dark alley in the middle of town and shut off the engine. Opening my glove box, I grab the gloves before slamming it closed, then check my surroundings before getting out. No matter how strong I am or how much training I’ve had, if a bullet comes my way, I’m going down. I stay smart and watchful, especially at night down a dark alley.

Walking up to the big metal door, I briefly glance at the red faded words Abe’s Gym as I unlock and pull it open. Abe gave me a set of keys to this place a couple years ago, because he knew there were times I just needed to punch out my rage. Rather than beat the shit out of people, he said it was better to do it against a bag of sand. Abe’s not only been a damn good trainer over the years, but also a good friend. He’s old in age, but still tough as nails, and won’t hesitate to get in the ring with anyone.

I close and lock the door behind me. Unspent energy tightens my muscles as I make my way into the big training room. There’re rings to the right and left with a big matted area between them. Several weight benches and other workout apparatuses line the walls.

Without stopping, I reach behind my head, whip off my shirt, and toss it to a bench as I pass by it. I pull on the pair of bag gloves I grabbed from the glove box. The heavy black bag looms before me, welcoming the beating my fists are itching to give it.

Unbidden, an image of Theo locking his arms around Jules pops in my head. My molars grind together and with a snarl, I throw a jab at the bag. The sudden contact jostles my arm and pain radiates up to my shoulder. I welcome the discomfort, wanting more.

Another image forms of Theo’s lips parting over Jules’s as he slides his tongue against hers. I land another jab, followed by a cross.

Theo kissing down Jules’s neck as she tilts her head to the side. A hook, with an immediate cross behind it.

I throw punch after punch as visions fill my head of the two together, which only makes my rage even stronger. I have no right to feel possessive over a woman who belongs to someone else. It’s all for nothing anyway, because she’s in a coma, and if she hasn’t woken up in seven years, the chances of her waking now are practically nonexistent.

When I remember the fear and pain in Jules’s eyes, a roar reverberates from my chest, and I throw all my weight into the next punch and attack the bag like my life fucking depends on it. There is no worse feeling than helplessness.

I don’t know how long I stand there and beat the shit out of the bag, but I end up with my arms loosely wrapped around it, leaning my weight into it. My chest heaves from exertion andsweat slides down my temples and back. My muscles ache and the sharp pain in my lower back feels good.

A low whistle coming from behind me has me straightening and turning around. Abe is leaning back against one of the rings, his massive arms crossed over his chest. He’s as black as midnight, as big as a linebacker, and still as strong as an ox, despite being in his mid-sixties. He’s also not afraid to give it to you straight, is a no-bullshitter, and if you come into his gym, you respect him and his equipment, or he won’t hesitate to kick your ass to the curb.

“What has your panties in a twist?” he asks, moving away from his perch. He throws me a water bottle when he’s close enough, and I catch it. Twisting off the cap, I down half the bottle before walking over and grabbing my shirt to wipe away the sweat from my face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, instead of answering.

His eyes assess me critically, accepting my avoidance for the moment. It won’t last long.

“Damn arthritis woke me up. I heard your snarls and grumbles from upstairs and decided to check things out.”

I grunt and finish off the water. Abe owns this whole building, including the apartment upstairs, which is where he lives.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

After a moment of silence, my short reprieve is over.

“You gonna tell me what’s botherin’ you, boy? And don’t even try denyin’ it, ‘cause that beatin’ you were just givin’ that bag was aimed at someone.”

I crush the water bottle, then stalk over to the trash can and toss it. Walking over to a bench, I straddle it before looking back at Abe.

“I’m an asshole, that’s what.”

One of his brows rises in amusement. “That shit ain’t nothin’ new, but what makes you an asshole this time?”

Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the wall at my back, exhaustion suddenly hitting me.

“Theo’s married. Has been for years.”

“What the fuck?” he asks in disbelief.

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