The Sinister Silhouette-D2D Page 3

  She’s about five feet above me, her body longways to match my horizontal position. She seems to be in a spectral form. She’s in front of me but not fully there. Her white sleeveless dress drifts around her legs.

  She’s pretty. No, not pretty. Devastatingly gorgeous.

  Not understanding why I do it, I lazily smile up at her. She smiles back, but it fades seconds later, and her eyes take on a dead look. The first sharp stab pierces my chest, and I suck in a breath at the sudden pain.

  “Where are you, Luca?” the woman whispers, her lips barely moving. “I’m waiting for you.”

  Her hand reaching toward me and the desperate pleading in her eyes paralyze me. I want to reach out and grasp her, to pull her to me and demand she tell me what’s wrong, but for some reason I can’t. I’m frozen; the only part of my body moving is my chest as I breathe heavily.

  My jaw clenches as I strain my muscles, trying to get them to move, but no matter how hard I internally push myself, nothing fucking happens.

  What in the ever-lovin’ hell?

  “Tell me your name,” I force out through gritted teeth. Even moving my lips is strenuous, but something tells me I need to know her name.

  Instead of answering me, her arm goes back to her side. Tears glisten in her eyes and her expression turns sad once again.

  A second stinging pain lances my chest, and I flinch.

  “I need you. Please, please, help me.”

  I try again to lift my arm but get nowhere.

  “I don’t understand.” The growled words rumble from my tight throat. “How do I help you?”

  She stays silent as she looks at me with her solemn golden eyes.

  Her body inches closer to me, and I know if she were to reach out now, she’d be able to touch me. I wish she would. I don’t understand why I have this need, but there’s a strong desire to have some part of her touch some part of me.

  All I can do is lie there and look at her as she gets closer and closer. Her wraithlike appearance allows me to see the trees above us through her body, but as she draws nearer, her features become more clear. She has a small scattering of freckles across her cheeks. One in particular stands out more than the others because it’s bigger and is just below the corner of her right eye. She also has the beginning of small indents in her cheeks that suggests dimples if she were to smile.

  My body tenses even further when she doesn’t stop and keeps floating toward me. Her eyes don’t change, and she doesn’t try to touch me. She’s only inches from me now, and my chest tightens the closer she gets.

  She’s so close I can see black specks in her eyes mixing in with the pretty golden amber.

  Painful breath rushes from my lungs when she all of a sudden closes her eyes and an agonizing scream escapes her lips. Not a second later, she bursts into a thousand tiny flashes of bright light, her scream still echoing around me. The small fragments fall, and it’s like some magnetic force inside me is drawing them into my body. Each piece that penetrates is more excruciating than the last.

  I WAKE WITH A jerk, my eyes flying wide open as I sit up in bed. I clutch my chest as searing pain crushes my lungs. I pull in deep breaths, trying to push the discomfort away. It’s fake, leftover fragments from the pain in my dream. It has to be.

  I toss the covers aside and climb from the bed. Stalking toward the bathroom, I stumble a few steps, my equilibrium off.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” I mutter as the bright light of the bathroom stabs at my aching head.

  I walk to the sink, turn on the tap, and splash cold water on my face. Lifting my head, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes stare back at me. I have rings under my eyes, and my black hair looks fucking wild.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and memories of the dream rush behind my closed lids.

  When the dreams started back up again a couple months ago, they were different than the ones I had before. The woman was always the same and so was the dark setting with the tiny sparks of light. She never spoke, but I always felt her eyes on me.

  This dream was even more different. It was outside in the broad light of day. In a place I know well. What that means, I have no idea. I just wish it would stop.

  I used to only have one every couple of months, but since they returned, I have them several times a week. Before tonight, my last one was two nights ago. It’s fucking with my sleep, meaning, I’m not getting much, and it pisses me off.

  Why can’t she just tell me what in the fuck she wants from me? Even if she only needs help in my dream and she’s not out there somewhere powerless and in dire need, she could at least tell me what in the hell she needs me to do.

  I push away from the sink, start the shower, and don’t wait for the spray to warm before I step inside. The cold water hits my sweaty body. Bowing my head, I step under the showerhead until the water meets my shoulders. The cold distracts me from the haunted amber eyes and my unanswered questions.

  Once the water warms, I lift my shoulders a few times and twist my head back and forth to loosen the tense muscles. I stay that way for a while, until the throbbing in my head lessens. The pain in my chest is still there, but that too has tapered slightly.

  Turning the water off, I step out and grab a towel. Wrapping it around my waist without drying off, I leave the bathroom and go to my closet, where I find a pair of jogging pants. After slipping them on, I head toward the kitchen and the coffeepot on the counter, knowing there will be no more sleep for me.

  I step to the window with my coffee cup in hand and look out into the darkness. The streetlights a couple houses down give just enough light to see littered and overgrown yards. The houses aren’t much better with their peeling paint, dilapidated porches, and cracked windows.

  I turn my head to the side and look at the bookshelf that has my collection of books and CDs. Further to the left is my flat-screen TV. It’s not huge, but it’s not small either by any standards. Beneath it is my Xbox console and games. Behind me is my brown suede couch and love seat, with a recliner between the two. There’re tables at the end of the love seat and couch. It wasn’t an expensive set, but it’s still a nice one. My kitchen has matching dishes and pots and pans that I bought at an outlet store. My bedroom set matches too, but again, it’s another department store purchase, nothing fancy.

  I’ve worked my ass off on changing this house from a two-bedroom, two-bathroom dump into a decent-looking home. My yard has green grass, and I cut it weekly. The outside was freshly painted two years ago, and my porch is level.

  My parents worked hard all their life to ensure my brother, sister, and I had everything we needed. We may have not gotten the stuff we wanted, but we always had food on our table and clean clothes on our backs.

  As an adult, I may not have the finest things in life, but I live comfortably, even if I am surrounded by shady shit all day long. I’m happy where I am, and I’m happy knowing I’m in a situation where if my family needs something, I can more than likely get it for them.

  I turn away from the window and chug down the rest of my coffee before putting the cup in the sink. Leaving the kitchen, I walk to the garage where I have a weight bench. Lying back, I grip the bar, blow out a breath, and push upward. Straining sure as hell doesn’t help my head, but it feels fucking great on my muscles.

  It also pushes away the vision of a woman with sorrow in her amber eyes.

  I SLIP MY WALLET IN my jeans and have just swiped my keys off the bar when there’s a knock at the door. Irritation has me stalking over and yanking it open. As soon as I see the small person on the other side, my snarled words die in my throat and something warm fills my chest.

  “Hey, Uncle Luca,” Aria, my six-year-old niece, chirps as she bounces past me into the living room. I turn and watch as she beelines it to the kitchen where I know she’ll ransack my cabinets for any sweets.

  I turn back to the door just as my twin brother hits the bottom of the steps.

  “What are you doing here, Theo?” I glance down at the phone in my hand. “The shop opens in thirty minutes.”

  He blows out a breath as he takes the last couple of steps.

  “I know,” he answers. “We won’t be long. I haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store in the last week, and we ran out of bread for her lunch today.”

  I clench my jaw and push back my need to growl. This isn’t the first time he’s had to come to mine, Ella’s, or our parents’ to get food for Aria. Theo tries, but he’s just never been a good single dad. Sure, he loves Aria; you can see it in his eyes when he looks at her, but when it comes to caring for her and providing her the things she needs, he does a shit job. I can’t count how many times we’ve had to get groceries for them or buy her clothes that actually fit her. Lord knows what would happen to the girl if we weren’t around.

  “Fine,” I bite out, then spin on my heel to make sure Aria grabs herself something healthy.

  “Why isn’t she in school already?” I ask over my shoulder. “It started a couple of hours ago.”

  “His alarm didn’t go off.” Aria supplies the answer before Theo can.

  Again, I have to force back a nasty remark. I’ve had many conversations with Theo about the terrible job he’s doing raising his daughter, but I refuse to do it in front of Aria.

  I walk over and grab a loaf of bread and the peanut butter before going to the fridge for the jelly. I step beside Aria at the counter to make her sandwich as she pulls grapes from their vines and stuffs them in a baggy; every few she plops one in her mouth. With a father like Theo, she’s been forced to grow up faster than her almost seven years.

  “Gimme,” I tell her, and bend over with my mouth open.

  Her smile is big as she tosses one into my mouth, then giggles when I catch it and chomp down.

  “Listen,” Theo says, leaning on the counter and not even attempting to help his daughter make her lunch. “I need you to watch Aria for me this weekend. I would ask Mom, but she watched her last weekend.”

  “Why?”

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “Got a hot date.”

  “Yeah, a hot date with a ho,” Aria mutters quietly beside me.

  I bump my elbow against Aria. “Watch the language.”

  Another thing about Theo is, he’s a manwhore, and sometimes brings his girls home with him. Luckily, he either waits until Aria is in bed before he fucks them, or asks someone in the family to watch her. I’m not against him dating by any means, but having them around Aria, even if it is innocent in front of her, still pisses me off. Aria’s mom disappeared days after she was born. Theo says their relationship wasn’t serious, so he never brought her around to meet us. Having so many women in the house has to be confusing to her.

  “What night?” I grunt the question.

  “Friday. I’ve already checked with Ella and she says you get off at seven. I was thinking I could drop her off at six and she could ride home with you.”

  And fuck all if I had plans for the evening. As the boss man, I don’t get many Friday nights off. Theo and I may be twins, but we couldn’t be more different. Whereas I prefer to be more selective on who I take to bed, excluding Cora and my major fuckup in judgement, Theo loves the attention and will take it from any female. I went through a short partying stage in my early twenties, but Theo is still smack dab in the middle of his, despite having a daughter he’s responsible for. Our looks are different as well. I keep my body in shape by running, working out, and regular visits to Abe’s. Theo’s body is firm with muscles, but he’s more slender. His workouts come in the form of fucking women. Up until a few years ago, we both wore the same hairstyle, long enough to touch our shoulders. Now mine is cut shorter but still long on the top. Over half my body is covered in tattoos, and I have piercings in my left eyebrow, my tongue, nipples, dick, and have gauges in my ears. Other than a couple of small tattoos, Theo’s body is clean and piercing free.

  Our eyes are the same though. Electric blue, or so I’m told. For some reason women go fucking crazy over them. Theo is also the charmer of us two. He’s always cheerily in a good mood. I’ve always had a short and volatile temper.

  “Please, please, Uncle Luca!” Aria begs, reminding me of Theo’s question. “I don’t want to be stuck at the house with them. I can help make dinner.”

  I look down into her eyes. Eyes that she got from Theo. It’s different seeing the color on her. When I look into the mirror, all I see is a blue, but on her, they seem brighter, more explosive. They look stunning on her. There’s no damn way I’d make her stay at home with Theo and one of his girls.

  I yank one of her pigtails, ones I know she did herself because her dad never even attempts to do her hair.

  “You can stay with me Friday night, boo,” I tell her. She squeals and jumps up and down, knocking several grapes to the floor.

  “Can I bring Goodie with me?”

  I ball my hand into a fist, feeling a phantom pain in the webbing between my thumb and forefinger. Goodie is Aria’s hamster, and his bite hurts like a bitch. Ella got him for her when Aria was three years old because she had one when she was little and now thinks every child should have one. The minute Aria saw him, she clapped her hands and yelled, “Goodie.” The word stuck and became his name. He’s never bitten Aria, but if anyone else’s hand comes near him he chomps down. I think I still have a scar from when the little fucker took a chunk out of me.

  “Yes.” Before she gets too excited, I add, “But he sleeps in the living room.”

  I already have enough trouble sleeping; no way am I letting a rodent who likes to chew on his cage at night disturb even more of my sleep. The little shit is going as far from my bedroom as possible

  “Okay,” she agrees with a big grin.

  We finish her lunch, and by the time I’m locking up the door behind us, I know I’m going to be late opening the shop. Watching Aria, brown lunch bag in hand, skip to Theo’s beat-up car in her girly bubbly way, I know it’s worth it.

  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.