Chasing Adonis

by Gina Ardito

Still, the entire scenario nagged him. The light dimming in her eyes as she struggled to breathe, the plea in her voice…

  I can’t die today. Today’s my birthday.

  He chewed on his lip and ran the facts through his mind, looking for some reasonable explanation for what he’d seen, what he’d sensed.

  Knuckles marched in triple time across his desktop, and he looked up. Through a steam of cinnamon-scented herbal tea, Commander Jake Stewart frowned down on him.

  “Commander.” Shane gestured at the Styrofoam cup in the man’s hand. “How’s the blood pressure?”

  “It might lower considerably if I didn’t have to second-guess what the hell you’re up to every minute of the day,” he growled. “You wanna tell me what you expected to find at that nightclub this morning?”

  “Not yet. I’m still looking into it.”

  “Looking into what?” The commander’s black eyes narrowed below bushy silver brows. “Sergeant O’Reilly filed the report over an hour ago. Some chick and her boyfriend had a little too much to drink and wound up in a heated argument while walking home. She ran off to avoid him, wasn’t watching where she was going and got hit by a car. We’ve already found the vehicle, abandoned two blocks from the scene, reported stolen earlier yesterday.”

  Gooseflesh pimpled Shane’s forearms. That wasn’t what happened. Few details in Jake’s explanation matched the details of the scene. Not the way Shane had seen it. So where did they get this misinformation? There had been no witnesses.

  A chill zipped up his spine. Except Ted Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum. Had he concocted this story to cover his ass?

  Jake drained the last of his herbal tea in one swallow, and then grimaced. “Now you tell me why you think a detective of your caliber needs to go poking around in something so routine a first-day rookie could handle it while juggling stale doughnuts.”

  Hold up. Something was very wrong. Were they even speaking about the same case? “Did you listen to the 911 tape?”

  “Yeah,” Jake replied, crushing the Styrofoam cup in his fist. “Did you? Because I gotta tell you, Shane, it all fits.”

  “You heard Ms. Berros’s conversation with the 911 operator, and you think ‘it all fits?’”

  The commander did a double take. “Ms. Berros didn’t call. She was unconscious on the ground. The boyfriend, some guy named Ted, called in from the scene. He was a little disoriented, but not completely incoherent.”

  Shane picked up a pen and rolled it between his sweating palms. What had happened? Had everyone gone crazy? Or…just him? No. He knew what he saw. Maybe Ted had connections in the department. All the more reason to nail the son-of-a-bitch on something: jaywalking, unpaid parking tickets, anything.

  “There’s something fishy there, Jake. Something about that guy. I think he’s neck-deep in what happened to this vic. I know it. I can feel it. I just haven’t put my finger on what it is yet.”

  “I can’t keep you on a case that doesn’t exist because you have a feeling. We’re processing the car, and with luck, we’ll come up with an ID for the driver. You have no reason to be involved in this case. I need you on other stuff.” Jake’s free hand cupped the desk’s rim as he leaned down, gaze scrutinizing Shane with the keenness of an MRI. “Are you all right? Does this have anything to do with Cassia’s death?”

  Shane flinched. The concern in his C.O.’s tone pierced his heart sharper than hollow-point bullets. But he recovered quickly and tossed back a steady glare. “Not in the way you think, no. Cassia’s circumstances have made me more aware of the telltale signs of a woman in an abusive situation. Adara Berros fits the pattern.”

  “How so?” Flinging his crushed cup in the nearby wastebasket, Jake straightened to full height again. “You have any witnesses to any alleged abuse?”

  Shane’s gaze fell to the open folder on his coffee-ringed blotter. “No.”

  “Talk to her friends, coworkers? Anyone who can cite specific incidents where she’s felt threatened?”

  His shoulders slumped. “Not yet.”

  While Jake paced the aisle in front of the desk, Shane watched, breath held. Jake could pull him off the case with a snap of his fingers, but he prayed the C.O. would grant him a little leeway. If for no other reason, because of his record and their past experiences.

  At last, the commander sighed. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours. That’s it.”

  “Thanks, Jake.” He held out a hand.

  The commander’s clasp enfolded his fingers tighter than a vise. “Don’t thank me. Just make sure you find something. And in case you don’t, keep your mouth shut about what you’re working on.” He turned, but tossed one last question over his shoulder. “What’s your next step?”

  First, he wanted to hear the 911 tape to find out what Jake had heard, but he wouldn’t admit that. “Stopping at the local florist,” he replied instead. “I need to pick up a birthday gift.”

  Painkillers or no painkillers, he had to talk to Adara Berros.

  Chapter Four

  At emergency central, Shane found Becky, one of his favorite 911 operators, grabbing a chocolate bar from the vending machine. “Becks, babe, I need a favor.”

  Battleship Becky, as he called her, unwrapped the candy, inhaled, and then waved a coral-nailed hand. “Forget it. I’m only here today because the girls had a slumber party at a friend’s house, and Cherise called in sick. Last time I did you a favor, I wound up working the twelve-to-eight shift for a month. I’ve got two kids in elementary school. I can’t leave them alone at night. And I can’t let them sleep at my mother’s, either.”

  Shane flashed a lopsided grin meant to put her at ease. “I swear, this isn’t like that. I just need a replay of this morning’s 911 calls.”

  Becky’s wide forehead creased with lines of doubt. “Any one in particular?”

  “The hit and run on Broadway in Pinewood. Around one o’clock this morning.”

  “Mmmm…” Her mocha face glowed nuclear. “Twelve-fifty-five a.m. I know. I came in to cover for Cherise, and by golly, my generosity paid off the minute I put on the headset. First call I took was from a smooth-talker who phoned in to say his fiancée was involved in a hit and run. I’ve been smiling ever since—not about that poor girl, but because I got to talk to silver-tongued Tedior Pha.”

  Finally. A last name. Now he was getting somewhere. “Tedior…Fa?” Not Fe, Fi, Fo, or Fum. Fa.

  “Mmm-hmm. P-H-A. Nice guy. Great accent. Made me think of making love on a desert oasis beneath a blanket of stars.” With her free hand, she fanned her ample chest.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Shane couldn’t believe his ears. Becky—good old solid, reliable Battleship Becky—going gooey over some guy’s voice?

  An eerie fog crept around Shane’s flesh. Everyone seemed to have spoken to this Tedior Pha. Everyone but him, of course. Maybe he should just surrender. Each question he asked, each step he took into this murky mess sucked him into a deeper quagmire.

  But he couldn’t let go. “Can I hear the recording?”

  “Sure.” Becky gestured for him to follow her into the recording room where all 911 calls were saved on computer. “Hell, I’d love to hear that sultry voice again anyway. It not only made my morning, it made my month. Too bad that poor Berros woman’s already snagged him. I would have loved the opportunity to put a face to his voice. Oh, well. Maybe it’s better this way. Now I can put whatever face on him I want.” She stopped suddenly, and he nearly bumped into her. “Hey wait a sec! You were there. You saw him. What did he look like?”

  What had Heather said? “Like Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, and Leonardo DiCaprio all rolled into one great big hunky package.”

  “Day-um.” Becky smacked her lips. “Who do I have to screw to get me a piece of that?”

  He sighed. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  ~~~~

  Adara awoke, pain-free and refreshed from her pleasant sojourn in the floral valley. Her memory, however, still needed prodding. She remembered a male voice whi
spering in her ear—soft, sweet, and slightly accented—but nothing he said. As consciousness returned, she clutched the medallion around her neck, finding comfort and purchase in this last gift from her mother.

  When the veil of sleep finally lifted, she focused on a blond man, dressed in a white linen suit and salmon-colored shirt, slumbering in the chair by her side. “Hello?”

  His golden eyes opened instantly, warming her insides with their glow.

  “Ah, you’re awake, dear one.” That silky cultured voice she remembered from her dream rippled down her spine in pulsating waves of heat.

  He leaned forward into the light, and she studied his perfection at close range. Beautiful was the only word that did him justice. His features, while clearly masculine, exuded an aura of femininity too strong to deny. Gorgeous thick lashes framed perfect almond eyes. The clear skin of his face extended to a swanlike neck. Smooth hands with tapered fingers and clear oval nails perched atop the chair’s arms. Instinctively she hid her own fingernails, ragged and bitten, inside the folds of the bed sheet.

  Smiling, he lifted her hand from its hiding place. His fingertips brushed across the back and connected with the plastic I.V. tube inserted into her vein. The smile dipped. “We must be rid of this device before it mars your perfection.”

  Alarmed, she pulled away. The tubing snapped against her knuckles, sending pain sizzling through her hand.

  “Do not fear, my darling. I will let your doctor remove the offensive item. I shall not say a word. When he arrives, he will see you have no further use for it. He already removed that abominable thing from your throat, thanks to Hygeia’s assistance.” His eyes blazed a trail to the cast encasing her left leg. Those thick lashes fluttered, throwing spidery shadows against his high cheekbones. “And soon, we shall make certain he eliminates this horrid binding. You have no need of such entrapments.”

  Adara’s mind wrestled in molasses. Who was this man? Why was he here? What did he want from her? How had she wound up lying in a hospital bed with tubes in her arms and her leg in a cast?

  “I see you have many questions burning inside your head, dear one. Now that I have rested, ask me what you wish to know.”

  When Adara’s gaze locked on the stranger’s beautiful face, shudders jolted her legs like a nest of jellyfish. Or were they spasms? She couldn’t tell. “Who are you?” she asked as she straightened her arms against her to keep her tremors in check.

  “For now, you may call me Ted, if you like.”

  For now? If she liked? Too confused to pursue that line of questioning, she let the statement slide. For now. “Where did you come from?”

  “The small village of Kouklia near Paphos in Cyprus.”

  Gee, could his answers be any more obtuse? Frustration itched below her skin, but she pressed on. “How did I wind up here?”

  “You were in an accident.” He bent forward, golden gaze bathing her in warmth. “Do you remember?”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to think back. What had she done today? Yesterday? What did she remember? Drinks with her girlfriends last night at the Silk Club. Then what? Nothing. No matter how she concentrated, she remembered nothing after sipping the last of her third margarita and heading to the ladies room. She couldn’t even recall leaving the club.

  The beautiful stranger named Ted patted her hand as if showing affection to a pet. “Do not tax yourself, dear one. No doubt, your memory refuses to recall the details. I’ve been assured trauma victims rarely remember what happened to them. It matters little. You were fortunate I was there when you needed me.”

  Her eyes flew open, and she forgot struggling to remember. “You were there? At the accident?”

  “Indeed.” He nodded, and then shrugged delicate shoulders. “I’d actually gone to the club to see you and followed you out when you left.”

  Her muzzy brain struggled to catch up. “You went to the Silk Club to see me? Why?”

  “Your Aunt Persephone sent me.”

  “Aunt Persephone,” she murmured and rubbed an index finger over the scratchy bedsheet.

  “Do you remember her?”

  Vaguely. Once again, she clutched her medallion. The cool gold brought her mother’s face into her memory and with it, that odd expression of pride Mom had worn at presenting Adara to Aunt Persephone. Daddy’s relative had visited from Greece when Adara was about six or seven. All she really remembered about the woman herself was her singsong voice and the warm scent of lilacs. “Why would Aunt Persephone send you here?”

  His glittering smile rivaled models’ in toothpaste ads. “Because she is your guardian now. With your mother’s death, it is Persephone’s responsibility to care for you until you marry. Then your husband shall care for you.”

  Yeah, right. When pigs fly. Like bubbles in soda, a series of giggles rose in her throat, but she swallowed them down with a gulp. “What year are you people living in? This may come as a shock to you and dear old Aunt Persephone, but I’m not a child. I’m a full grown woman, responsible for myself.”

  “Perhaps you are correct.” His hot gaze raked over her frame in the hospital bed, and she yanked the sheets up higher. His smile only broadened. “Persephone considers your charge an honor. In turning over the care of such a precious jewel to her, your mother placed a great deal of faith in your aunt. It is not a responsibility Persephone takes lightly. She understands you may scoff at tradition, which requires you to have a guardian until you marry. That is why she has sent me.”

  Adara clutched the sheet at her neck, covering her medallion to keep her mother’s memory safe.

  Ted’s face continued to radiate innocent adoration, a child worshipping a favorite toy.

  “I still don’t understand. Why you? If she believes herself to be my guardian, why would she send you?”

  “Because, my darling, I am to be your bridegroom.”

  Chapter Five

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  “Help me, please.” The cultured tone with its heavy accent couldn’t mask the tension on the recorded voice. “My fiancée is hurt. She collided with one of those mechanical beasts you use for transport.”

  Becky hit the pause button on the laptop and flashed goo-goo eyes in Shane’s direction. “Isn’t that the most divine voice you’ve ever heard?”

  “Divine,” Shane drawled. “Simply divine. Can we keep going now?”

  Smirking, she pointed her index finger and thumb like a gun barrel. “You’re jealous.”

  “Yeah, I’m jealous of a man who doesn’t know the word, ‘car.’”

  She stuck out her tongue. He ignored her, and then hit the “Play” button.

  “Slow down, sir,” Becky’s professional moderated tone filled the soundproofed room. “Let’s start again. What’s your name, please?”

  “Ted. Tedior Pha.”

  “Okay. Ted. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “My fiancée was about to cross the street when I called out to her. She turned while she was still walking and the chariot—car—ran into her.”

  “Chariot?” Shane glared at Becky. “Really?”

  “Ssshh!” Becky slapped a hand in the air. “Just listen.”

  “Where are you, Ted?” the recorded Becky asked.

  “The street poles intersect at Sixth Street and Broadway.”

  “Great. You’re doing great, Ted. Just hang on now. I’m going to alert the police and an ambulance, but I want you to stay on the line with me until they show up, okay?”

  “Yes.”

  A long pause followed, punctuated by muffled shouts of indiscernible noise.

  “Tell me about the victim. She’s your fiancée?”

  “Yes. Adara Berros. She’s beautiful and kind and—”

  “That’s not what I mean. Tell me about her injuries. Is she conscious?”

  “I-I’m not sure. Her eyes aren’t open. She groaned before, but she hasn’t made a sound or motion since. I’m afraid to move her…”

  Incredible. The di
alogue was similar to what Shane remembered, but now Adara’s lines came from the mysterious Tedior Pha’s mouth. How was this possible?

  “What about the car that hit her? Any injuries to the driver?”

  “No,” Ted replied. This time his voice was sure and confident, take-charge. “There is no one else here.”

  “Where’s the car that hit Adara, Ted?” Becky prompted.

  “Gone.”

  “Did you see the car or the driver? Can you give me a description?”

  Shane sat up. This was new.

  “No. It was too dark. Too…fast.”

  “And I’m the Great Pumpkin.” The retort left Shane’s mouth before he could second-guess himself. His instincts refused to be silent. He pointed to the machine, then looked at Becky. “I can hear it in his voice. He’s lying. If there really was a hit and run, he recognized something at the scene. The driver, the car, something.”

  “If?” Becky shook her head and bit into her chocolate bar. “What exactly are you looking for, Shane?”

  Damned if he knew. But he was onto something. He rose from the chair. “Thanks, Becs. I owe you one.”

  “No charge. Anytime you want to come back and listen to Mr. Foreign Affair, let me know.” She grinned. “If I thought I could get away with it, I’d take a copy of this tape home for those lonely Saturday nights when the kids are with their father.”

  Her lusty cackles followed him outside.

  ~~~~

  Shock stiffened Adara’s spine. “You’re what?”

  Ted lounged in the chair, long legs spread out before him as if made of liquid. “I am your bridegroom.”

  Sitting up, she fumbled for the call button lost in her bed sheets. “Get out.” She found the cord and pulled until the buzzer itself landed in her palm. “Get out now.”

  He simply smiled. Adara was beginning to hate that insipid smile.

  “Do not fear, dear one,” he intoned. “I realize the idea is foreign to you. It need not happen right away. You will see. In time, you will fall deeply in love with me.”