Chasing Adonis (2 page)

“Tell me who he is, and I’ll have Rocco throw him out,” Pete
offered.

“No.” She shook her head. “If he gets thrown out of here,
he’ll just wait for me outside. But if he thinks I managed to get away from
him, he’ll either leave here to try to find me or give up.”

Pete’s focus sharpened. “Are you
sure
you don’t want
me to call the cops?”

Her teeth dug into her lower lip, but she fisted her hands
and nodded.

“At least tell me what the guy looks like so I can let you
know when he’s gone.”

She didn’t need to. The way her body continually thrummed,
she knew the man was still looking for her on the dance floor. She could almost
picture him, could definitely hear him calling her. His melodious voice,
lyrical and disarming, echoed in her head.
Adara? Where are you?

“Tall, blond hair, really good looking,” she recited. “You
can’t miss him. All the females in the club are orbiting him like satellites.”

“I saw him when he came in.” Pete opened the door a crack,
peeked out, then closed the door and shook his head. “I don’t see him now.” His
scrutiny intensified to laser beam. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

He didn’t say it, but she sensed the rest of that question
was,
So much that you’re seeing villains where there are none?

And honestly? She didn’t know. The walls closed in on her.
Her vision blurred around the edges. The air stifled, too heavy for her to pull
any into her lungs. Inside her purse, her cell phone rang. Probably her friends
looking for her. Whatever the purpose of the call, the excerpt from her current
favorite song that served as her ringtone shook her into action again.

“I…” she gasped. “I…think…I’d better…go.” Hefting her purse
onto her shoulder, she stumbled forward. Head down, she yanked open the door.

Ignoring Pete’s shouted, “Hey!” she fled across the dance
floor, past the bar, and out into the humid night.

~~~~

The immortals of Mount Olympus gathered to watch the events
unfolding on earth. Only those deities whose realms lay outside the heavenly
abode did not attend the soiree. And while they may not have been in residence,
they were surely aware of the goings-on. After five thousand years of waiting,
no one wanted to miss the denouement to the legend of Aphrodite and her beloved
Adonis.

Those fortunate enough to reside in the cosmos, however,
viewed Aphrodite’s arrival on earth with the same keen interest die-hard sports
fans reserve for the Super Bowl or World Series.

Apollo clucked his tongue. “Aphrodite always had a flair for
the dramatic.”

“‘Tis true,” his twin, Artemis, interjected with an amused
titter. “Yet, how else would she make herself known to Adonis? To appear among
the earthbound at a moment’s notice has always been difficult, but in these
times, it is quite dangerous. We cannot materialize in all our supernal
splendor without blinding the humans. If we change into an animal such as a
swan or a bull, we risk being killed by a hunter. If we transform into a shower
of gold or some other more natural phenomenon, earth’s scientists come running
with their exploratory equipment to measure our elemental qualities. And if we
remain invisible, our lovers are trapped in hospitals, thought to be insane.”

Athena sighed, and the snowy owl seated upon her bare left
shoulder took flight around the pink-hued heavens. “The earth of today bears
little resemblance to the Golden Age of Athens and Sparta, does it not?”

“To be sure,” Eros remarked with a smirk. “I do not envy my
mother this chase.”

“I, too,” a sinister voice announced, “intend to become
involved in this debacle.”

Until that moment, no one had noticed the sullen Ares,
Aphrodite’s former lover, standing alone in the darkest corner of the assembly
room.

Deafening thunder rumbled through the clouds at their feet,
and all eyes turned to Zeus seated upon his celestial throne.

“Ares.” Zeus’s eyes flashed with summer lightning. “You
shall not harm Adara. ‘Twas you who sent the boar to kill Adonis. This time, I
will brook no interference from your jealous nature.”

“Oh, I will not harm Adara,” the god of war replied, a wry
smile twisting his thin lips. “I shall merely make our Aphrodite’s chase more
challenging.”

~~~~

Adara didn’t stop running until she’d left the parking lot, crossed
the street, and wound up two blocks from the dance club. Assured she’d put
distance between herself and the stranger, she stopped. Bent at the waist, she
struggled to catch her breath. Her medallion dangled from her neck, and once
again she touched the talisman to link her to the memory of her mother. Her
breathing returned to a more normal pattern, and she shook off the trepidation,
tossed back her shoulders, then walked toward a nearby twenty-four hour
supermarket. She’d call for a cab from there.

“Adara.” That hauntingly lovely voice stopped her in her
tracks. She turned to confront the stranger, but headlights from an oncoming
car blinded her. As she lifted a hand to shield her eyes, the roar of the
engine grew louder.

Holy crap, the car jumped the curb and sped down the
sidewalk. Straight toward her!

“Adara, my darling, no.”

A heavy object collided with her left side at the same time
the car struck her. She flew up, then landed on the car’s hood and rolled
toward the windshield.
Ka-whump
! Her forehead collided with the gap
between the hood and the windshield. Stars erupted inside her skull. She felt
herself rolling forward. Searing heat burned her skin where her clothing didn’t
cover her: arms, knees, and calves. The hood ornament did nothing to prevent
her from falling off the car and onto the pavement with a bone-crunching thud.
Pain splintered across her right hip, traveled down her leg.

On a screech, the car veered off the sidewalk and barreled
past her, spraying dirt and pebbles into her face as it drove off. She lay on
the ground, too stunned to move, until a groan from behind her forced her to
turn her head.

She blinked, and a man’s prostrate body, draped across the
narrow strip of grass that bordered the sidewalk, came into focus. He was dressed
head-to-toe in white, eyes closed, hand outstretched to touch her.

What the—?

The stranger from the dance club. He’d saved her life by
pushing her out of the way of the speeding car. And he’d taken the brunt of the
injuries for his good deed. Slowly, she sat up, touched fingers to her temples.
Yup. Her head was still intact. Thanks to the stranger who’d played superhero.
Who on earth
was
he? Where did he come from? And how had he known to
come to her aid?

“Sir?” No response. “Are you all right?”

The man groaned again, but never moved. How badly was he
hurt? Even at this proximity she saw no blood, but did that indicate no
injuries? Could he have internal bleeding? His chest rose and fell in a slow
but steady rhythm. 

He’s alive, that’s for sure. Dead men don’t breathe.
Unless
they were
both
dead, and they’d landed in some parallel universe.

“Sir?” she repeated. “Can you hear me? If you can hear me,
please move something—a hand, a finger, anything.”

His long blond hair, falling forward over his cheek from the
impact, obscured his face. Despite the pain that skittered through her body
like water on a hot griddle, she skooched closer to reach out two fingers to
push the mane away.

Zoinks. He had the profile of an angel, perfectly sculpted
in golden color. High cheekbones, thick lashes she couldn’t obtain with an
entire tube of mascara, and a sleek, aquiline nose above full, ruby lips. She
touched his cheek, and an eyelid fluttered, but never opened.

“Sir?” she said again. “I’m going to call an ambulance. Just
hold on. Don’t move. Okay?”

Not that he looked ready to hop up and start doing jumping
jacks.

Scanning the ground, she spotted her purse in the grass, its
contents strewn all over the sidewalk. As each movement ratcheted up her pain
past eleven on the one-to-ten scale, she dragged her aching body toward the
litter of makeup, wallet, keys, date book, and cell phone. Her fingers gripped
the edge of the phone and pulled it closer. Great. A jagged crack ran the
length of the screen. What were the odds it still worked? Especially since this
day had gone so fantastically well so far.

But when she touched the call button, the screen lit up. Oh,
thank God! San Andreas Fault ran through the wallpaper of a sunny vineyard, but
at least she had a dial tone. With trembling fingers, she punched in 911.

On a loud painful-sounding groan, the man on the ground
reached out to her. While she cradled the phone on her shoulder, she clasped
his hand. So cold! Colder than a cadaver.

Oh, God, please don’t let him die. Not like Terry
.

She couldn’t go through that again. Couldn’t bear to watch
another man’s life ebb away while she waited for help to arrive. Help that came
too late.

“911. What is your emergency?” A woman’s brusque, nasal
voice came on the line.

“I…” Blood filled her mouth, and she spat on the ground
before starting again. “I need an ambulance. A man and I have been hit by a
car.”

“What’s your name, please?” the operator asked. 

“Adar-a.” The last syllable came out on another gob of
blood, so she coughed and tried again. “Adara Berros.”

“Okay, Adara. Can you tell me where you are right now?”

Could she? Lifting her gaze, she spotted the street sign at
the corner about fifty yards away. Her vision blurry, she narrowed her eyes to
make out the names. “We’re near the corner of Broadway and Sixth Street in
Pinewood.”

 “Great, Adara. 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?”

“O-okay.” Sweat drenched her palms. Her heartbeat
accelerated, pounding against her ribcage like the drums in a punk rock song.

“Tell me about the man you hit—”

“I didn’t hit him. Someone else hit us both.”

“Okay. Tell me about the other victim. Is he conscious?”

“I-I’m not sure. His eyes aren’t open. He groaned a few
times, but he hasn’t really moved at all.” She glanced at the beautiful man,
lying in the same position since she’d first spotted him near the sidewalk.
“He’s on his stomach. I’m afraid to roll him over.”

“Don’t move him,” the woman on the other end ordered. “Just
wait for the EMTs. They’ll be there soon. Does he have any visible injuries?”

“There’s no blood. I don’t see a scratch on him. His chest
is rising and falling nice and even. He looks so peaceful, almost like he’s
sleeping. God, that probably sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid, Adara. You’re doing just fine. How
about your injuries?”

“I banged my head on the windshield and fell off the hood. I
ache everywhere.”

“Any dizziness?” the operator asked. “Or nausea? Did you
lose consciousness at all?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” A dull ache bloomed in her
skull. The man’s fingers tightened on her hand. “The man is in a lot worse
shape than I am. I mean, I’m a little shaky, but otherwise, I think I’m okay.”

“Well, considering you’re shaky, you’re doing great. Where’s
the car that hit you? Any injuries to the driver?”

“No…” She stopped, looked around. The street was completely
deserted. “I mean, I don’t know. The car is gone.”

“Gone?”

“It drove away. I didn’t even see what kind of car. Just the
headlights.”

“The ambulance just passed First Street, so you should see
them any minute now.” As if the woman’s words had magical powers, a screaming
siren cut the late night silence.

“I hear them.”

“Terrific, Adara. Don’t hang up yet. Stay on the line with
me until they get to the scene, okay?”

The wails grew louder, and flashing lights came into view.
Red, white, and blue illuminated the trees and sidewalk in crazy swirls.

“I see them now.” A static hiss pierced her eardrum.

Then the operator said, “They see you, too, so I’m gonna
disconnect. Good luck, Adara.”

“Thanks.” She slid the cell phone closed and leaned to
whisper to the fallen man. “The ambulance is here. Everything’s going to be all
right now.”

His eyelids fluttered, and a long exhalation of breath left
his lips. “Adara.” Both hands clutched hers, icy fingers squeezing hard enough
to crush bone. “Stay with me. Please.”

The blare of sirens intensified. A dark sedan, emergency
signal whirring from a mount on the dashboard, pulled up at the curb.

Out stepped the man of her dreams. Figuratively speaking, of
course. Tall, drop-dead gorgeous, with the self-assured gait of someone who
knew he could have any woman he wanted with the snap of his fingers. He waved
for the ambulance to pull up alongside his car.

While the medical technicians climbed from the other
emergency vehicle, the man knelt beside her. Stonewashed denim eyes studied her
carefully. “Miss, I’m Detective Griffin, Suffolk County P.D. Are you the lady
who called in the accident?”

Did he say Griffin? Like the creatures in the ancient myths
her grandmother used to tell?

As a child, Adara would lie in her bed, covers to her chin,
while
Gigia
spun tales about the gods and goddesses from her homeland.
Griffins were fierce protectors, the guardians of hidden treasures. In Greek
mythology, the griffin served Nemesis, goddess of retribution. Classical
artists depicted the beast with the head, wings, and claws of eagles attached
to the body of a lion. But this griffin was one hundred percent human animal,
with the profile of a god and the body of a warrior.

“Miss?”

His prompt broke the visions of vengeful goddesses and
winged beasts. “Huh? Yes.” Shaking her head to clear the fog, she turned her
full attention to Detective Griffin.