CHAPTER THREE

 

Luca

 

I WALK THROUGH the sliding glass doors and head straight for the desk where an older woman sits. She continues to click on her keyboard like I’m not standing three feet in front of her. I’m about to slam my fist down on the wood to get her attention, when she looks up and gives me a fake smile. Apparently, someone doesn’t like their job.

“Can I help you?” she asks with a phony pleasant tone.

“Yes.” Her eyebrows shoot up into her bangs at my harsh tone, and she gives me a nervous look. “You can tell me where my sister is.”

Licking her peach-colored lips, she looks down at her keyboard and hovers her fingers over the keys. “And what’s her name?”

“Ella Hendrix,” I answer shortly. “She was brought in a while ago.”

She types something, and a minute later, shoots off a room number. Just as I turn, she blurts out, “They no longer have her in the emergency department. They moved her upstairs to the ICU.”

I grunt my thanks and head to the elevators. Silver Hill General is the smaller of the two hospitals in Silver Hill. It’s been standing since the fifties and could definitely use some refurbishments. Silver United Memorial was built when I was a kid and is the one where all the rich folks go.

Stepping out of the elevator on the third floor, I turn right and start looking at the room numbers. When I come across number thirty-six, I take a moment to settle my rapid heartbeat. The entire way here, I’ve tried to block out the images forming in my head of what I’m about to see. When Mom called an hour ago to tell me Ella was attacked, I about went ballistic. The only thing that kept me stable was the kid who was in the shop with his dad while he got a tattoo. Mom said Ella’s condition wasn’t critical; just some bumps, scrapes, bruises, and a possible concussion, so I finished up the ten minutes that was left of the guy’s ink, waited another fifteen for Jazz to get there, then took off.

My jaw aches from clenching it so hard, so I work it in circles to loosen it. When I step around the doorway and into the room, I see Mom standing beside the bed, my dad at the foot, and my brother sitting on one of the chairs.

Sensing my presence, Mom looks up and spots me. Her eyes looked pained, and it fucking sucks seeing that look on her face. Helen Hendrix is one of the strongest women I know, but when it comes to her children, any time one of us hurts, she hurts with us. She tries to put on a brave face, but we all see past it.

She holds her hand out to me, and I walk over to grab it. It puts me in view of Ella and anger rages through me at the damage to her face. Her left eye is swollen halfway shut with deep purple and blue bruises around it. There’s a butterfly bandage over her left eyebrow covering a gash and she has scrapes on her cheekbone and at the corner of her mouth. Her chin is scraped to hell and back and there are purple marks on her neck. I look down at the bandage that wraps around her hand all the way up to her elbow.

She tries to crack a smile, but winces instead. “Hey, big brother,” she croaks. “Do you like my new look?”

“Who?” I demand in a gravelly voice, ignoring her bad timing at trying to make a joke.

“Luca—”

I bend and put my face in hers. “Tell me who fucking did this to you, Ella.”

She flinches at my harsh tone, and Mom tries to calm me down by rubbing my back.

“No,” Ella states, her eyes turning hard.

“Why in the fuck not?” I growl.

“Because I don’t want you to go out and kill someone, that’s why,” she announces stubbornly.

My blood pressure rises, causing the pulse in my throat to thump crazily. My nostrils flare as I blow out a deep breath and try to rein in my temper. These people know me better than anyone else. They know I’ll do anything to protect the people I love. I’m smart enough to realize my parents have probably heard rumors of the shit I’ve done. At least some of it. Just because it’s never been brought up between us doesn’t mean they’re clueless. They aren’t stupid and know how things are around here. I may not work the streets, but my name is known on them.

“Son,” my dad’s voice sounds beside me. “You need to calm—”

“No, goddammit!” I snarl and look at him. “She’s going to tell me who did this to her!” I turn back to Ella. “Was it Cora?”

A laugh bursts from her lips before she can stop it, and the sound ends on a moan. Her eyes close for a moment, before she opens them and pins me with her heated gaze.

“That bitch wouldn’t know how to kill a fly if she had a flyswatter in her hand, let alone get the drop on me.”

“Ella,” I warn, but before I can say more, a hard voice stops me.

“Chase Leeway.” I turn to Vicki, who just stepped into the room with a cup of coffee. “That’s the bastard who did this to her.”

I bite my lip to keep back the roar that wants to break free. Chase fucking Leeway. He should have been my first guess. The bastard’s had it hard for Ella ever since he came in with his rich buddies to have some ink done. For obvious reasons, she’s refused him every time he’s asked her out. The last time it happened, he left pissed. He tried to fake it with a charming smile, but I saw the dark look in his eyes as he walked out the door. That was months ago, and we haven’t seen him since. We both assumed he was over his interest in her. Clearly, we were wrong.

Fucking bastard is going to pay.

Vicki comes further into the room and deposits her cup onto the tray beside the bed before leaning down and giving Ella a gentle kiss on her forehead. Luckily, the lump found in her breast was benign. She’s a pretty girl. Black hair cut short, small round face with wide green eyes, and dimples in her cheeks. She’s short, but big boned, and doesn’t take shit from anyone, especially when it comes to protecting her girl.

She crosses her arms over her minimal-sized chest and glares at me. “What are you going to do about it?”

Her tone doesn’t anger me. It’s what I expect from Vicki, and I’m glad Ella has someone so protective of her. I have no doubt if Chase were to walk in this room right now, Vicki would stop at nothing to make him look ten times worse than Ella. That is, if there was anything left after I got done with him.

“Now wait one damn minute here,” Dad interjects, his tone harsh. “No one is doing anything. The police have already been in to question Ella and they’ll take care of it. I won’t have any of my kids being arrested for assault.” He points a finger at Vicki. “That includes you.”

Ignoring my dad, I keep my eyes on Vicki. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dad mutters, knowing my mind is made up and there’s nothing anyone can say or do to change it.

Mom, on the other hand, grabs my arm and tries to turn me toward her. “Luca, please.”

I hold Vicki’s stare for a moment longer, silently telling her there will be hell to pay for what Chase did to Ella, before I turn and gently pry Mom’s hands off my forearm. When I look down at her, worry lines her face.

“Mom, you know I have to do this.” I keep my voice as gentle as I can given the circumstances and the barely contained rage coursing through my body. “You know how it is out there. The only way to protect my family in a place like this is to show I’m not willing to give an inch. Chase not only took that inch, but took a mile along with it. I’ll be damned if anyone else thinks they can do the same.”

Mom bites her lip and looks down at my hand that’s holding hers. She knows I’m right, even if it does eat her up inside that her family is in a position where shit like this has to be done. Mine and my siblings’ childhood wasn’t bad, but it could only be so good in this type of environment.

She pulls her hand from my grip and places it over my chest, where my heart beats beneath it. Her fingers dig into the bone and muscle.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want you hurt, or going to jail.” She says the words quietly.

I put my hand over hers. “I will.”

After holding her eyes for a moment longer, I look over to Theo, who’s been quiet so far. He’s watching the exchange between Mom and me with a hard look. He’s bent over with his elbows on his bouncing knees. He looks nervous and agitated, but his eyes silently tell me if I need help all I have to do is ask. I won’t. Theo is a lover, not a fighter. I have no doubt he could hold his own, but I don’t want his hands getting dirty like mine are.

I turn back to Ella, who looks none too happy.

“How long are they keeping you?”

“Just until tomorrow. Most of my injuries are superficial, but my concussion is slightly worrisome and they want to monitor me overnight.”

I grind my molars and give her a short nod. I’ll wait until she’s home and comfortable to hunt down the asshole and ensure he regrets even looking at Ella. Chase Leeway will wish he was dead by the time I get done with him.

 

 

A FEW HOURS LATER, I’m walking down the hallway, having just left Vicki and my parents in Ella’s room. Theo left earlier to grab Aria from the after-school program she attends sometimes. The doctor came in to check on her, and I grilled the man to make sure her injuries were in fact superficial. He looked scared at my hard tone and the half-crazed look in my eye, but reassured us all that she’ll be fine and her staying overnight is just a precaution. The news only made me feel marginally better. Ella shouldn’t be where she is right now in the first place, and I’ll make damn sure she never is again.

My boots thump against the floor as I make my way to the elevator. Right before I get to the end of the hall, something has me stopping. Turning toward the room to my right, I slowly take a step forward, then another and another until I’m inside the doorway.

There’s a woman in a bed. Or I assume it’s a woman. The person is turned on her side away from me just enough to hide her face, but there’s a braid of long brown hair on the pillow.

Before I can stop myself, I walk further into the room, softening my steps so I don’t disturb her, until I’m standing on the other side of the bed. At my first look at the woman’s sleeping face, I suck in a sharp breath. I don’t need to see her eyes to know they’re a bright golden amber and the dent in her cheek is the beginning of a dimple.

I stand in stunned silence, staring at the woman I’ve been dreaming about for almost six years. A woman who is a complete stranger to me. One I wasn’t even sure existed until this moment.

She’s beautiful. For whatever reason my dreams conjured her up, they didn’t do her justice. Her skin is flawless, and with the wisps of brown hair that’ve come loose from her braid and delicately surrounds her face, she looks angelic and pure. I have the sudden urge to finger the rope of hair to see if it’s as soft as it appears, but I ball my hands into fists to push back the need.

My eyes run down the rest of her. She’s not in the usual getup a patient wears in the hospital. Instead of the standard green gown, she’s wearing a light blue one that someone had to have brought her. The covers are up to her waist, with one arm lying flat on the bed against her body and the other resting on her stomach. The one on the bed has an IV. I follow the line up to see it hooked to two bags. My eyes catch on the machine sitting next to the bed. It beeps steadily.

I look back at the woman’s face and wonder who she is. Not only because she’s haunted my dreams for so long, even though that is in the forefront of my mind, but also because she looks so peaceful in a place where there’s not much peace to be found.

My head jerks up when a nurse enters the room. She halts in her tracks, a look of surprise on her face before it changes into a gentle smile.

“Hi there,” she says, coming to a stop at the end of the bed and messing with the blankets covering the woman’s feet.

“Hey.” I grunt my greeting.

She walks to where I’m standing, and I’m forced to step back so she can get to the machine.

“I’m new around here and haven’t had the chance to meet all the family members of our long-term patients.” She turns toward the woman in the bed and fiddles with the IV lines before turning to face me. “I’m Nurse Edith.”

“Luca,” I supply.

“It’s nice to meet you, Luca.” Looking back at the woman, a tender expression appears in her eyes. “It’s good to see someone visiting her. You’re the first one I’ve seen since I’ve been here. Are you her husband?”

“No.”

She looks back at me. “Brother?”

“No. I’m not related to her.”

She frowns and looks back at the woman. “Are you on her list of approved visitors? If not, you’re not supposed to be in here. Only family members or approved persons are permitted to be in patient rooms.”

Ignoring that, I ask, “What’s her name?”

Edith brings her eyes back to me, a look of indecision on her face.

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 of my 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.