Aphrodite's Stand

by Sandra Scott

  Andra warily eyed the container, now wishing for company so she wouldn’t be alone with the snake. She choked back a plea to ask Hog to stay once he made it to the door.

  “Eat and get you some rest,” he suggested. “We can discuss your situation when I return.”

  The door creaked shut. As an afterthought, she ran over to it just as it closed her in. She pounded furiously but stopped once she heard the key turn from the other side.

  45

  Racine observed the men leave the formal sitting area one by one.

  First, Jayson removed himself to handle the bank situation, his body stiff with worry, anger, and some other emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Next to go was the high-and-mighty Stefano, who practically summoned Paulo to follow. Papa George hung around for approximately thirty minutes before he decided to head for Stefano’s office to find out what was going on.

  Now only she, her mother, and something that could’ve crawled out of her worst nightmare—Sly—remained.

  Intentionally ignoring the latter, Racine focused on her mother’s curled body upon the long sofa, her sleep induced by the Theonopilus family doctor, who’d come earlier and prescribed sedatives to help calm her nerves. At his insistence she take one too, Racine had shooed him away.

  To her relief, he’d left the villa without forcing lobotomy meds down her throat.

  Racine dismissed Sly’s first motion as she stood beside the sitting room’s closed door. Yet as the foreign girl’s beckoning grew in its urgency, Racine sighed violently, the sound causing her mother to stir restlessly.

  Twisting on the couch, Racine glared Sly’s way. “What?” she mouthed.

  “Come over here,” she mouthed back.

  Her next exhalation muted, Racine stalked over to the door. “What do you want?” she hissed.

  Sly gingerly reached out and touched her arm. “First, I would like to apologize for what I said about Yatros Andra and the baby.” She gave Racine a faltering smile. “I believe it is Jayson’s child.”

  “Who gives a care?” she asked, brushing aside Sly’s hand. “Seriously, dude, you’ve got issues. You’re definitely in need of some help.”

  Charmingly, Sly waved away her recommendation for psychiatric assistance. “I meant no harm to Yatros Andra.”

  Racine stepped back to cross her arms. “Do you understand Yatros Andra could wipe the floor with your bony butt if she really wanted to?” Racine raised a sardonic eyebrow at Sly’s disbelieving stare. “Don’t let that goody-two-shoes ‘I’m a doctor who values life’ exterior fool you. I don’t know how she kept her hands to herself when it comes to you. Believe me, dude—you got off lucky.”

  Sly swayed uneasily. “Okay, okay,” she said, flapping her hand as if waving off Racine’s words. “Look, you and I need to stick together. I want to help.”

  Warily, Racine eyed her. “Help?” Racine lifted her hand to count off her fingers. “Number one, why would you want to help? Number two, why would I trust you enough to want your help? And number three, what do you think you can do to help?”

  To her amazement, Sly’s emerald eyes filled with unshed tears. “Yes, I have been a brat,” she said with a sniffle. “And I too want to apologize for being so. I see how much Jayson loves Dr. Andra—truly loves her. I do want to help.”

  Racine forced herself to stay put when Sly moved closer.

  “But, Racine, if we put our heads together, we as women should be able to come up with something.” Taking the time to brush aside a small tear, she managed to shrug prettily. “As you know, we are the smarter sex.”

  Racine had to admit she had a point. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”

  At Sly’s glancing about them, Racine grabbed her arm and vigorously shook it. “Would you cut the melodrama?” she whispered harshly. “You know we’re the only people here!”

  Sly’s giggle was infectious, and Racine nearly chuckled along with her. However, she needed to remain steadfast in her resolve to stay serious for Andra’s sake. She waited impatiently.

  “You are right,” Sly said. To Racine’s annoyance, she paused to again glance over her shoulder. “What we should do is go to Stefano’s office and listen at the door. Listen in on what they are saying. I can assure you they have information they are not telling us.”

  Frowning, Racine jammed her fists against her hips. “You know what, Sherlock? You need to lay off those American detective TV shows. Evidentially, you’re spending too much time watching them.”

  “No, I am serious! I know Grecian men; they will tell us nothing because we are women.” Sly tapped her shiny glossed lips, her face suddenly brightening. “We must stand outside the door and gather intel—see what we can do to assist Yatros Andra. She needs us!”

  Racine shook her head in disbelief. “Gather intel? Are you serious?”

  Sly smiled.

  “So you’re telling me, Ms. Thang, you want this to be like a Cagney and Lacey situation?”

  “Yes, yes! I have seen reruns of this female police show! They are, what you say, badass broads!” Sly giggled. “Remember the show where one curled at the heels of the bad man, and the other pushed him in the chest? Remember how the bad guy flipped backward and cracked his head?”

  “No.”

  Thoughtfully, Sly brushed stray hair from her forehead. “Well, maybe it wasn’t this Cagney and Lacey. Maybe it was—”

  “Please, just shut up.” Racine sighed. Although she was trying hard not to, she found herself not disliking the Grecian beauty as much as she had before. What a time to start going soft! “Okay, Lacey.” Grabbing Sly’s hand, Racine opened the door and pulled her through. “Let’s go snooping.”

  46

  Under Hog’s heavy hand, the hotel door swung open.

  “Well, hello, young man,” he said, giving his visitor a somber look. “I was glad you rang me up. How’s it going over at the Theonopilus place? Any word concerning the kidnapping?”

  Paulo stepped inside. Facing Hog, he remained silent until the door shut. “No word yet,” he said, his expression unreadable. “But then, you are aware of this Mr. Grainger, correct?”

  The tone in the younger man’s voice unsettled Hog, but he pulled from deep within to produce a sad expression. Shaking his head, he led the way to the private sitting area.

  “Such a god-awful thing, what’s happening to those nice people.” He stopped at the bar to fix a scotch and water but didn’t bother to ask if Paulo wanted one. His drink made, he casually turned to his guest. “I’m just glad I was able to help in some way.”

  Mute, Paulo stared, as if sizing Hog up.

  “Money isn’t everything, son,” he continued wistfully. “Now, if a person has pure love, joy, and happiness, that’s priceless.”

  His manner stiff, Paul approached Hog and stopped a few feet away. “Please,” he said, his lips pulling into a frown. “As you Americans say, can we cut the crap?”

  Momentarily startled into silence, Hog slapped his knee only to burst out laughing. “Well done, son! Good one.” Still chuckling, he walked around Paulo to settle onto his usual couch. When Paulo refused to take a seat for himself, Hog lifted one eyebrow. “So tell me—what crap am I supposed to be cutting, son?”

  Paulo uttered a small cry. He pivoted and sat in a chair closest to the bar—and the farthest away from Hog. “This concerns Dr. Andra.”

  “Okay,” Hog said slowly. He studied the agitated younger man. “I don’t know what else to tell you other than I’ve already made the transfer for the ransom money into their account. I now own a seventy percent share in their company. Meaning you’ll get the rest of the hundred grand I promised ya.”

  “Why?” The underlying green of Paulo’s skin gave the impression he would upchuck at any moment. “Why are you doing this? Why do you need so much of their family business?”

  Impatiently, Hog shrugg
ed. “A personal matter.” At Paulo’s irritated silence, Hog leaned forward, placing his drink on the coffee table. “Besides, I don’t understand why you’re so worked up, youngster. If they got back Dr. Andra’s wedding rings, they’ll most likely get her back. Every movie I’ve ever watched can attest to that.”

  Paulo’s eyes widened. “How could you possibly know Dr. Andra’s wedding rings were returned? You were not there when the ransom note was delivered.”

  Standing, Hog coughed uneasily. “Now, look here, son—”

  Paulo leaped from his chair. “I am not your son,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing. “And I am not a naive youngster. Where is she, Mr. Grainger? Where have you taken Dr. Andra?”

  Hog felt a gastric churning inside his gut at Paulo’s correct assumption. Just as quickly, his nervousness turned to regret, and for a moment, he watched Paulo’s expression vacillate between anger and expectancy. He had grown kinda fond of the handsome, albeit highly nervous, youngster. At one time, he had even pondered that Paulo could’ve been the son he and Beauty never had.

  “Well, Mr. Grainger?” Paulo demanded. “Where is she?”

  His immediate thought was to say, “Call me Hog,” yet he thought better of it. “Paulo, I still don’t believe you’re seeing the bigger picture.” At the other’s raised eyebrow, Hog spoke slower. “It’s actually quite ingenious, if you think about it. Not only do I get a majority holding in the Theonopilus enterprise, but I’m getting it for free. Don’t you get it?”

  A measure of bewilderment swept across Paulo’s face.

  “You see, because the money I’m lending them for the ransom will come back to me for the doctor’s return.”

  Paulo was speechless, and his eyes bulged.

  His frame shaking with suppressed mirth, Hog presented his palm. “And here’s the best part: the high-and-mighty Theonopilus clan will have to pay me back the money I’ve already gotten from them through the kidnapping. So technically, in the end, they’ll be paying me twice for their family business!” Again, Hog slapped his knee in delight, laughing harder. A second later, he straightened to wipe away a merry tear and glanced over at Paulo. “You’ve got to admit this scenario is irony at its very best!”

  Across the room, Paulo gaped as if staring at a monster so hideous he couldn’t fully comprehend what he envisioned. Stupefied, he shook his head. “Why are you doing this to them?”

  Hog immediately turned serious, his face flushed, the volcanic pounding of his heart burning like molten lava inside his chest. “That family took from me a most valuable possession, something I can never get back—and I mean to have my justice.”

  Paulo backed up, covering his mouth.

  Hog silently chided himself for his outburst and turned his emotional burner on simmer. Attempting an amicable smile, he moved toward Paulo, who in turn retreated until he hit the wall behind his chair.

  “Paulo, I can make you a rich man,” Hog said calmly. “How’s ten million American dollars to start with? I’ll give it to you as a gift for you and your family—so you can financially support them the way I believe, you being the man, want to.”

  Paulo stared at him, neither accepting nor denying his proposition.

  Hog tried again. “Lookee here,” he said. “You can even run their business for me. I’ll put you in charge and give you a hefty salary on top of the ten million dollars. Then you and your family would be the ones on top—and those Theonopiluses will have to work for you! Doesn’t that sound like heaven? It would be as if the universe had suddenly righted, allowing opportunity and fortune to tilt in your direction. You can make that happen.”

  Hog held on to the comforting fact that once he acquired the olive oil business, he planned to run it into the ground, totally destroying it. Subsequently, there’d be nothing left for Paulo to oversee and manage anyway.

  “What d’ya say, son? Wanna get rich?”

  Hog noted a small speck of interest within Paulo’s eyes. As the younger contemplated the offer in silence, Hog extended his arm.

  Paulo considered the hand before him but did not take it.

  “Come on,” Hog said impatiently, wriggling it for Paulo to take hold. “Make up your mind! Do we have a deal, young man?”

  At the word man, Paulo’s frame straightened. “I will make this deal with you on one condition,” he said, his voice strong with determination. “You must take me to Dr. Andra. If she is unhurt and well, only then can I determine you are sincere.”

  Hog smiled graciously. “Done.” He grabbed Paulo’s hand and shook hard, only to abruptly abort the handshake. “Let’s go.”

  Hog led the way out of the hotel room to descend the stairs toward the side entrance to the hotel. Heading for the building’s rear, he rounded three huge trash bins, making his way to a parking lot behind the structure. Moments later, he stopped before a dilapidated white van with a wooden two-by-four block shoved underneath the front tire. After unlocking the side door, he tugged on it with some difficulty until it finally slid open.

  Paulo stopped a few feet away. His neck craning, he stared at the van from a distance, attempting to peer into the dark cargo area.

  Hog swept his hand toward the opening. “The doctor’s in here, bound and gagged toward the back.” At Paulo’s indignant sputter, Hog patted the air. “Calm down. Listen, I tossed her in there because frankly, I didn’t know what else to do with her. She’s not hurt; she’s on a pallet, sleeping. I kinda gave her a sedative to knock her out.” He stepped back to lean against the passenger-side door. “Come on. Take a peek for yourself.”

  Paulo moved cautiously, his approach slowing to a stop once he reached the van. He took an elongated moment to eye Hog to his right before he leaned in.

  Paulo paused to adjust to the dimness inside, only to withdraw his head. “I do not see h—”

  Hog brought the heavy two-by-four high and crashed it down on Paulo’s skull. His swift glance around coincided with Paulo’s body as it pitched forward, his upper torso landing squarely inside the vehicle. Grunting, he hoisted the younger man’s long legs off the ground and shoved, forcing his limp frame deeper inside the van. Grabbing the handle to the door, Hog yanked hard. The door slid a fraction and then stopped.

  Mumbling under his breath, he tried again, and the door moved an inch only to stick again. He cursed.

  “Signomi, kirios—may I be of assistance?”

  Hog whipped around to see an employee from the hotel’s restaurant staring at him curiously with one hand holding a garbage bag and the other lifting the heavy lid of the trash bin.

  Placing a Texas grin on his face, Hog casually moved in front of the van’s opening. Briefly peering over his shoulder, his eyes slid back to the busboy’s face. “What does ‘Signomi, kirios’ mean, boy?”

  The other scanned the area around him, as if searching for a hidden camera that recorded him for a practical joke. When he found none, he cleared his throat uncertainly. “It means ‘Excuse me, sir or mister.’”

  Hog nodded agreeably. “Well, partner, I thank you real kindly for your offering. But this is a matter I can handle. Alone.”

  Watching the Grecian’s expression turn wary, Hog again glanced over his shoulder into the van’s darkness. He could haul away two bodies as well as one. His grin for the employee widened. “However, if you want to help, be my guest.”

  The younger man stood motionless to study Hog. Soon his expression transformed from somewhat curious to downright fearful. Keeping an eye on Hog, the man quickly dumped his trash. The bin’s lid fell in place with a loud bang. “Signomi, kirios. I am wanted back now.” He spun on his heel and disappeared around the hotel corner.

  “Wise choice, son,” Hog said to the empty space the Grecian had left behind.

  Returning to his task, he yanked and pulled until the van’s sliding door finally crashed closed. Wiping his brow, he glanced around, making
sure he was still alone. He was.

  Whistling a peppy tune, Hog bounded around the automobile and climbed into the driver’s seat. When he fired up the ignition, the old van spurted as if ready to die out, but after a few stomps on the gas pedal, it roared with renewed life.

  His gruff voice broke forth in a made-up song as he exited the back parking lot. He proceeded south along the main country road toward his villa and Paulo’s Dr. Andra.

  47

  Stefano woke with a start, mumbling the name Hog.

  Stiffly, he raised his head off the mahogany office desk. Using one hand, he massaged a kink in his neck. With the other, he wiped away a string of drool that dangled from his open mouth. He sat up.

  Why am I sitting here? What was I doing?

  As he blinked away the last of his impromptu nap, his vision came into sharp focus; his eyes immediately skimmed his computer screen, which displayed a news headline from the previous year: “Texan Billionaire to Bail Out Floundering Electronics Firm.”

  Harlan Orlando Grainger.

  He sighed irritably, knowing his sickly body had forced a shutdown due to his frustration at not finding any significant internet story on the man who called himself Hog.

  Brooding at his failure, Stefano heard a small noise from behind. Startled, he swung his chair around.

  His face haggard looking, Jayson sat watching him. His sunken eyes were bloodshot from either exhaustion or crying, or both, and his usually smiling lips were compressed into a thin, straight line. “I want to talk to you,” he said, his voice flat and broken.

  Bracing himself for his younger brother’s well-deserved tongue-lashing, Stefano stiffened. However, his brow lifted in surprise at Jayson’s words.