Authors: Gina Ardito
Soft-core porn on the cable movie station, several different
infomercials on the networks, a black and white cartoon from the fifties, and a
documentary on the history of ink on the ancient world channel. Riveting stuff.
The ringing phone on the nightstand caused her to jump with
a shriek. Fumbling for the receiver, she glanced at the small alarm clock near
her bed. Three-thirty a.m. A little early for a phone call, wasn’t it? Who the
heck could possibly be awake at this hour? Besides her and a few night
watchmen?
“Hello?”
“Adara, it’s Shane.”
He didn’t have to tell her. No one else said her name with
the same verve he did. Her heart raced with anticipation.
Get a grip, old girl. The man isn’t calling you in the
middle of the night to whisper sweet nothings in your ear
.
She took a few deep breaths and sat up in the bed. “Shane?
Is something wrong?”
“You tell me. You okay?”
“Me? I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m sorry to call so late. I’m just checking. The precinct
experienced a little excitement earlier, and I wanted to be certain it had
nothing to do with you.”
The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled in dread.
“Should it?”
“Of course not.”
His answer came a little too quickly for her peace of mind.
Instinctively, she knew he was lying. But why? “Are you sure I shouldn’t
worry?”
“Absolutely. If you’re frightened, I could send a cruiser
around.”
And catch Ted keeping watch outside her room? No way.
Somehow, she knew Shane wouldn’t take his presence with the same complaisance
she did. “I’m perfectly fine. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
“You bet. I’ll pick up a few things for breakfast before
coming over. What can I get you?”
“Don’t bother. I already have everything here.”
“You do?”
Shoot! She slapped a palm against her forehead at her own
stupidity. Someone should have taped her big wazoo shut ages ago. Now she’d
have to lie to him to prevent him from finding out about Ted. “I took a
walk to that store up the road earlier.” Wincing, she braced for his lecture on
safety measures.
“Adara, that wasn’t a smart thing, and you know it. You’re
supposed to keep a low profile until Cherry’s trial is over. Stay inside the
room at all times. You understand?”
Simply because she understood didn’t mean she liked his
advice. “It could be months before Cherry’s trial. Do you expect me to stay
inside this little hotel room with nothing to do for all that time?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
She sighed. “Well, then there are a few things you could
pick up for me. At my apartment.”
“Like what?”
“My laptop, for starters.”
“No dice. You can’t be online.”
“Why not?”
“Too easy for a hacker to track you down.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not. I’m sorry, Adara. But you’ve got to keep as
low a profile as possible.”
So, what the hell was she supposed to do with herself, hour
after hour, day after day, week after week? “I guess that means no karate
classes, either.”
“Nothing in your normal routine. Basically, you’ll be a
hermit until you testify.”
Terrific. Claustrophobia threatened to engulf her. An
impending need to strike out at the one man available at the moment overrode
common sense. Oh, she knew it wasn’t Shane’s fault, but resentment didn’t
believe in being reasonable. If she would be forced to stare at the same walls
for God-knew-how-long, someone else was going to suffer a little inconvenience,
too.
“Okay, then could you could bring me a deck of playing
cards?”
“Absolutely.”
Excellent. He swallowed the hook. Now, to move in for the
kill. “Ooh! And maybe a few romance novels? I love Jacquie Irons’s stuff.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
His voice shook with discomfort, and Adara smiled. Poor
manly man, too macho to be seen buying books with flowers or bare-chested male
models on the covers. Okay, so maybe it made her a meanie, but she loved to see
a grown man squirm. And while she couldn’t see Shane backpedaling right now,
she could picture it in her fertile imagination. “‘Fraid not. I’ll take the new
Jacquie Irons, the new Roberta Albert, and one more. I don’t remember the
author, but the title is
Love, Wild Through Time
. It has a gold pocket
watch lying on a bed of rose petals on the cover. If you’re worried about the
cost, don’t be. I’ll reimburse you for them.”
“Oh, it’s not the cost. It’s just…” He paused then added,
“You sure you don’t want to try something different? Maybe a spy novel? Or even
a good old-fashioned murder mystery?”
She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles
rising in her throat.
If you get this nervous over a few books, be grateful
I don’t send you out for tampons, pal.
“No dice. Just the romances, please.”
His defeat came out in one shuddering breath. “All right.
I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Shane. Have a good night.”
She hung up before giving in to a fit of laughter. Now, at
least, she wouldn’t be the only person wide-awake all night. No doubt, Shane
would spend the next few hours cringing over the bookstore clerk’s expression
upon seeing his reading choices tomorrow. Quieting her chuckles, she reached
for her robe then rose from the bed to slip her arms into the sleeves. No sense
in trying to sleep now. And even less than no sense to remain in solitary
confinement.
Barefoot, she padded through the hallway to the entrance to
her suite then opened the door. Ted’s golden eyes blinked twice beneath the
porch light. He stood against her doorjamb like a devoted sentry.
I’ll bet he wouldn’t cringe at the idea of buying me a
few romance novels.
She quieted the rebellious thought and forced an easy
smile to her face. “Hi.”
Wow. That’s a great icebreaker, huh?
“Good evening, my angel. Is something wrong?”
“Um…I can’t sleep, and I thought you might like to come
inside and talk for a while.”
His golden eyebrows quirked in questioning arcs. “Are you
certain?”
She nodded. “Please?”
“Of course.” A dazzling smile lit his features.
He really was awfully handsome. Not that Adara would allow a
pretty face to affect her common sense. Still, regardless of Shane’s
predictions of doom and gloom, she knew Ted would never harm her. A strong
second sense, added to their past meetings, fueled her theory that Ted was no
more a killer than she was. She’d stake her life on it. Well, she was about to,
anyway…
Throwing the door open wider, she stepped aside, allowing
him entry into her domain. Entry he eagerly accepted, striding inside with a
regal air Adara had only previously seen on televised airings of British royal
events.
“Can I get you something to drink? Or eat?”
“No, Adara. That is not necessary.”
After she closed the door, she turned to find his gaze
traveling her length in the terry cloth robe. Regardless of the density of the
fabric, his intense perusal made her feel naked. A slow flush crept into her
cheeks. With trembling hands, she pulled the ends of the robe tighter around
her frame and inched toward the kitchen.
“I-I’m sorry about making you stand outside on the porch all
night. Maybe you’d like to lie down on the couch over there and sleep?”
Ted’s fathomless eyes trapped her as neatly as a spider’s
web, and she shook her head to clear images of moonlit gardens lining dappled
streams.
He must have sensed her unease. His stare relaxed, as did
his posture. “Again, not necessary, dearest. I can go centuries without sleep
if need be.”
A nervous giggle erupted from her lips before she could
squelch it. “An insomniac, huh? My mother was like that, too.”
He stopped by her little dining table, pulling out a chair
for her. “You miss your mother very much, don’t you?”
The change in topic forced her into the seat as easily as if
an invisible weight had settled onto her shoulders. “Every day. After my father
left, Mom was all I had. We were more like sisters than mother and daughter.”
He took the chair across from her. “Tell me of your father.
What do you remember about him? You loved him also, didn’t you?”
She shrugged. “You said it yourself at the hospital. Daddy
was my hero. He and my mother never married, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a
couple so much in love. Even now. I used to wait on the stoop in front of our
apartment for his visit. Every Sunday afternoon, he’d come strolling up the
sidewalk, and I’d run from the steps and throw myself into his arms. He’d catch
me and twirl me around, and we’d laugh all the way inside where Mommy would
have dinner waiting. I treasured every one of those visits.”
“What happened?”
“That last day…” Her voice softened and pain knifed her
heart as she lost herself in the memory. “…I wore my best dress. The one that
Daddy always said was his favorite.”
“The pink lace one with the ruffled hem.”
“How did you—” She shook her head. What did it matter how he
knew? He’d already displayed his ample knowledge of her past. “You’re like the
invisible brother I never knew I had, you know that?”
With a superior grin riding on his face, he waved a
dismissive hand. “Please continue your tale, Adara. I apologize for
interrupting you.”
“There’s not much else to tell. He never showed up. Never
called. Nothing. I never saw or heard from him again.” Her voice caught on a
lump in her throat, and she coughed in the hopes of clearing it. “No birthday
cards, no phone calls. Every Christmas came and went without a word. It was
like he suddenly fell off the face of the earth.”
“And you blamed yourself, did you not?”
Tears choked her, and she nodded.
“You thought he might have stayed if you had been born a son
rather than a daughter. You put away all your pretty dresses and your dolls the
very next day. Joined the boys’ baseball team, started wearing jeans and sweats
everywhere, took metal shop instead of home economics in junior high school.
You even took lessons at a rifle range and went turkey hunting.”
She raised a hand to stop his comments, shielding herself
from each painful memory. “I was older when I went hunting. Terry took me. He
said nothing tasted like a Thanksgiving turkey you shot yourself.”
“But you disagreed.”
“Yes and no. I mean, it was weird. There’s really very
little difference between going to the supermarket to pick out the fattest
turkey breast or shooting the animal in the woods. Not to the turkey, anyway.
He’s still dead, right? I guess it’s more sanitary to go to the market. To have
to look one of those majestic birds in the eye and then pierce it with an arrow
or a bullet…” She shivered. “I guess I’m not much of a hunter. Killing that
bird took all the joy out of the holiday for me. And when my mother died three
years ago, my whole world collapsed.”
Ted’s warm fingers clasped Adara’s icy ones. “You have known
so much pain, my angel. I wish I could change the past for you, but that is
impossible. I can, however, change your future. Merely say the word, and I
shall take you away from all your heartache. Say that you love me, and you’ll
marry me. We would know such joy if you only say the words.”
She shook her head as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
Chapter Seventeen
Shane climbed the stairs leading to Adara’s hotel room, a
handled paper bag from the local bookstore gripped in his hand. Amazing how he
could stare down an armed gunman with less trepidation than the judgmental
clerk at Book and Candle. He winced, remembering the indulgent grin and the,
“Nice choices,” he received from the kid.
Talk about choices. The clerk wore a rooster’s
hairstyle—dyed purple because the spikes sticking straight up weren’t shocking
enough. Adding to his bizarre appearance, he sported two silver hoops in the
top of one ear, a spider tattoo in the middle of his throat, and a ball-peen in
the center of his tongue.
The scariest thing of all? Two years from now, that kid
would probably apply to the police academy—and get in. He shivered at the
thought of eventually finding himself partnered with that circus specimen.
A cheerful, bright-eyed Adara greeted him at the door,
sending all his aggravation washing away in the wake of her dazzling smile.
“Did you get my books?”
He hefted the bag in his hand. “I got ‘em. I was also
informed that Roberta Albert will be hosting a booksigning at Book and Candle
next month.”
The smile disappeared as she folded her arms over her chest.
“And I’ll still be here, so I’ll miss it.”
“Probably.”
“Well, then, you’ll just have to bring my books down there
and get them autographed for me.”
He staggered backwards, clutching his heart. “Me? Stand on
line with a thousand cackling hens at a romance author’s booksigning? I’d rather
commit hara-kiri with a rusty butter knife.”
She sighed, a mock pout pursing her lips. “Okay. I’ll let
you off this time. But if Jacquie Irons does an appearance around here, I’ll
make your life miserable ‘til you agree to go for me.”
Somehow, he couldn’t see the sweet Adara making anyone’s
life miserable, but he offered her a pensive face anyway, as if agreeing to a
tremendous sacrifice. “If I have to…”
“Well if you don’t, I’m sure Ted would be happy to.”
“Yeah, I bet Mr. Pink Shirt would love the op—” He stopped
short in mid-stride. Speechless, he flexed his jaw muscles, demanding some
argument leave his lips. Yet no sound issued forth. Only his eyes reacted,
turning wide, blinking several times, still disbelieving.
Looking perfectly at home, Tedior Pha lounged at the little
dining table, a broad smile on his smug face. “Good morning, Detective.
Splendid to see you again.”