Ghost Writer - Pandora Pine Page 0,44

sucked out of the room.

“My name is Cope. I’d like to help you.” His heart was pounding so hard, Cope could feel the beats in his toes.

Silence.

Instead of continuing to stand behind the desk chair, Cope took a seat in the overstuffed easy chair near the window. “I’ve been speaking to spirits since I was a teenager. I want to hear your story. Maybe there’s something I could do to help you.”

The silence continued.

“I understand if you can’t communicate like you did when you were alive. I’ll do my best to understand what you’re trying to say.” While he watched the keyboard, the letter B depressed, but not hard enough to type the letter.

Cope held his tongue and waited for the spirit to gather up enough courage to communicate.

One by one, keys clicked slowly. Six letters. Silence.

Climbing back to his feet, Cope looked down at the word typed on the page. Brooks. “Is that your name? Are you Brooks?”

The name hung there in the room. Nothing moved. Cope didn’t breathe.

Three letters clicked. Yes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Brooks. I’m Cope. My husband is Jude and our son is named Wolf.” Cope hesitated over his next words. He didn’t want to frighten the spirit, but on the other hand, he didn’t want them to be in danger either. “They mean everything to me.”

The typewriter remained silent, but the office door popped open with the knob bumping against the door stop. Cope could see Jude standing in the hallway. He wore a curious look on his face.

“This is Jude.” Cope found a smile. “Jude, I’d like you to meet Brooks.”

“Hi there. Welcome to our home.” Jude’s manner and smile were easy-going. Both of his hands were shoved into his front pockets.

Jude’s words shocked Cope. He’d been certain Jude would be livid over the way the door had been shut in his face. Protecting him and Wolf was Jude’s number one priority. This attitude was a bit of a surprise.

The keys clicked gently. Hello.

Either the spirit was painfully shy or still wasn’t sure if he could trust Jude and Cope. If he could see or hear the spirit, figuring this out would be so much simpler. Cope was mulling over what to say next when Jude surprised him.

“We want you to know that you’re safe here. Welcomed.” Jude slipped an arm around Cope’s shoulder. “Can you tell us how we can help you?”

Cope held his breath while the keys clicked away. Seven letters. One word.

Revenge.

In that instant, Cope felt his blood run cold. This restless spirit had been bound to the typewriter, for a minimum of thirty years, over revenge. Christ, after all of the hymn lyrics, that was the last thing he’d expected the spirit to communicate.

The idea of the spirit wanting revenge wasn’t half as surprising as Jude’s reaction. His serious, in protection mode husband burst out laughing.

“So long as my family is safe, you’ve got yourself partners.” He motioned between himself and Cope.

Cope was stunned. He had no idea where Jude’s jovial mood had come from. If his husband’s arm wasn’t anchored around him, he was of a mind to grab the baby and run to Ten and Ronan’s house. Before Cope could respond the keys started to clack again.

Partners.

20

Jude

Revenge. Jude’s old friend.

After the murder of his father when he was thirteen years old, Jude ate, slept, and breathed revenge. His wild emotions were the reason he’d left Navajo Nation when he turned eighteen, in favor of becoming a nomad.

Even though he’d been away from the reservation, memories of his father, and the skinwalker who’d murdered him right in front of Jude, were never far from his thoughts. The need for revenge was all consuming. If it hadn’t been for Ten and Ronan welcoming him into their family, coupled with the love of a good man, his need for vengeance would have consumed him.

Cope came out of the bathroom rubbing a soft blue towel over his damp blond locks. He’d been in the shower while Jude had stood guard over Wolf. He’d known the baby was safe, but he needed his son’s calming presence to soothe the tattered emotions thinking about his past stirred up in him.

“So, love of my life, we’re okay with a vengeful spirit in our house.” Cope’s arms crossed over his bare chest. One eyebrow shot up his forehead.

Jude had a feeling Cope would come out swinging. It was part of the reason he hadn’t joined his husband in the shower. “To be honest, babe, you