Page 2 of Deadly Intentions

One Month.

That's how long I'd been in the tiny town of Lake District. And though I stuck out like a sore thumb, no one knew who I really was. The new name I'd given myself was my security blanket. It allowed me to pretend I'd finally escaped the suffocation of being an Anastasi.

For years, I'd lived in the shadow of my brothers and the family name. But for the first time, I felt free. Even if it was a delusion.

"Trina," Harley, the nursing supervisor, called out to me. "Can you meet a detective in room 305? He needs to get some fingerprints again from your patient. The last set found nothing."

"Are they serious? Didn't they notice his hands the last time they were in here?" I shook my head in irritation.

While I understood their need to identify our unknown victim, it seemed patience could have gone a long way. The poor guy had been here just as long as I had and had yet to show any signs of waking up. Apparently, there had been no hits on the DNA they got when he first arrived, but that only meant he wasn’t in the system as a criminal. I grabbed his chart and headed down the hallway to his room. When I stepped inside, my spine stiffened at the man leaned against the wall. He was not one of the officers I’d met in the short time I’d been there, which made me go on high alert.

“Can I help you?” I snapped, moving toward the patient’s bedside and dropped his chart on the bedside table.

He stood to his full height, which was a good five inches above my own, and stepped forward.

“Good morning,” his hand extended in front of me “I’m Detective Coulter.”

Reluctantly, I slid my palm into his. The electric current that passed between us made me jerk my hand back quicker than I meant to. He noticed my reaction and smirked.

“Trina Aniston. You’re new.” He shot me a grin that instantly made my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Sorry—what I meant to say is how can I help you, detective?”

“Yes. I’m new to the department and I’ve been assigned this case. I’m trying to figure out who this man is, and as you know.” He paused, his eyes flicking to the patient for a moment, before coming back to me. “We still haven’t been able to identify him. I’d like to try for a new set of prints.”

I scoffed as I folded my arms across my chest. “Since you’re new, I’m going to assume you aren’t aware of his injuries. Let me bring you up to speed.” I flicked open the file and started reading. “John Doe arrived in the ER barely alive. Both his wrists were broken, and his right shoulder. He suffered a punctured lung, ruptured spleen, and significant head trauma. But that isn’t even the worst of it.” I pointed to his still form on the bed. “His fingers were crushed on both hands—and if that wasn’t enough, three of his fingers on his left hand are gone.”

I held the detective's gaze. To my surprise, he didn’t flinch at my words. I lifted my stethoscope and pressed the silver metal against John Doe’s chest. This man had endured something horrific, and while I knew we needed to figure out who he was, I wasn’t going to let them treat him like trash. Detective Coulter watched me as I changed out his fluids and reset the machine.

“Doesn’t he deserve us figuring out who he is?” Coulter stepped closer to the bed and pointed to him. “What if he has a family looking for him?”

My mind immediately went to my brothers. I knew they were probably looking for me, even though I’d asked for them not to. This man’s family probably hadn’t expected him to just disappear without a trace. Guilt wormed its way into my chest and sighed.

“Yes. But at what cost? Can’t you wait until he wakes up? Every time we unwrap his hands, we risk infection. He’s already lost a part of himself. Are you willing to risk him losing his entire hand?”

“No. I don’t want to put him at risk.” Coulter ran his hand down his face. “Any ideas when he’ll wake up?”

“You know we can’t predict that. But.” I checked him over and tugged the sheet around him. “He’s scheduled for another MRI this afternoon. Perhaps we’ll know more then. I can have the doctor call you.”

“I’ll be back tonight.” He stepped around me and paused. His body was close to mine when he leaned in and spoke. “You can give me an update then.”

“Right.” I stepped away and turned. “Nice meeting you, Detective.” I spoke through a clenched jaw.

“The pleasure was all mine, Trina.” He held out a cardstock square. “My card. In case he wakes up before I get back.”

Detective Coulter stepped out, leaving me alone with our unknown victim. I dragged a chair to his bedside and sat down, needing a minute to gather myself. Alex Coulter had rattled me—but not in a way I had been expecting. The shock I felt when we touched made my body pulse with desire. Something that left me confused. For as long as I could remember, there had only been one man that made my blood burn with need. But that was in a past life—a life I desperately wanted to forget.

A man like Alex Coulter could complicate my life in ways I didn’t need. No matter how sexy he was. After all… he was a cop, and I wasn’t the woman everyone believed I was.

“Who are you, John Doe?” I pressed my hand to his forearm and sighed. “Are you a victim of an accident or were you running from something like me?” I stood and straightened my scrubs. “I’ll help figure out who you are. I promise.”

I might have willingly walked away from my life, but this man didn’t choose to be alone in this place. I would make it my personal mission to figure out where he came from—he just needed to wake up first.

“Trina.” Harley smiled at me from behind the desk. “Who was that hunk of a man? I’ve never seen him before.”

“Alex Coulter, detective.” I made air quotes when I said the last part. “He’s new and been assigned the case for our John Doe.”

“I’d like him to cuff me.” Harley waggled her eyebrows. I rolled my eyes, but not before she caught the blush that crept up my neck. “Ooh… you think he’s sexy too.”

“Not interested.” I tossed the patient’s folder to the table and leaned my head onto the cool surface.

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