Eternity

by Tmonique Stephens

  “No, you’d enjoy it too much.” Roman snorted and chuckled.

  With good reason, he wanted to say, but glued his yap together.

  “I’ll tell her.” Roman pushed away the papers and leaned back in his chair. “She deserves to hear it from me.” He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across the thick stubble on his jaw.

  “You really do love Bianca?” The sadness in Roman’s voice made him ask.

  “Whatever her reasons, I’ve no illusions as to her love for my wallet, but I’m not without guilt. We used each other. And I’d already decided to end it.” The words hung heavily between them.

  From his haggard face and the slump of his shoulder, he had never seen Roman so worn. “You look like hell. Go home and get some rest. I’ll go to the hospital and cover E.J.,” he volunteered.

  “She’s afraid of me, Thane. I’m not surprised she didn’t remember me, she never does. But I was surprised at the terror in her eyes when she looks at me,” Roman confessed, then stretched to his full six feet seven inches. He met Thane’s gaze with a wry grin. “I need a shower and shave.” He scratched his jaw. “Why are you here so early? It’s only seven a.m.”

  He gave a dismissive shrug. “I live for this job.”

  “And you have no life. You need a woman.”

  “So says the man who has two.”

  Roman winced. Thane’s words struck bone. “Get to the hospital.”

  “Get some sleep,” Thane countered.

  “You’re right. A few hours will do me good.”

  “You agree with me? I should mark this on my calendar.” Thane turned to leave. “I’m on my way now.”

  “Hey,” Roman called. “I like the suit, but you look better in board shorts.”

  Thane stopped in the doorway. “Yeah, but dude, I dropped 2G’s of your money on this.” He fingered the lapel. “I wanna get some wear outta it.”

  Trust, finally Roman needed him not just for the daily routine, but for the personal. This proved Roman counted on him, and he wouldn’t let him down.

  “Good morning, Sir. Do you require breakfast?” Dressed sharply in a Brooks Brothers’ suit, crisp white shirt and silk tie, Hector couldn’t be any more erect than if he had Harrington rods grafted onto his spine.

  Roman didn’t have time to appease his bruised ego. “Yes, something quick.” The need to sleep faded. “I need to get back to the hospital. And a coffee to go.”

  Hector raised an eyebrow, but kept his words to himself. Good, He wasn’t up to dealing with Hector’s acerbic tongue.

  He never thought he’d miss his previous butler, Hector 7.0. Born in the thirties, he was a late bloomer to the hippy era. Roman returned from Vietnam to find his Park Avenue townhouse overrun with hippies and Hare Krishna.

  He clouted an extremely high and almost incapacitated Hector into sobriety and ordered him to clean his house. 7.0 was lazy, lustful and a lush, but he was fun, and he made Roman laugh more than he wanted to beat him.

  All of his ‘Hector’s’ descended from his first squire. A boy he discovered after he buried Mary. Hector 1.0 became his squire, then his man-at-arms, and for fifty years, his best friend. He told him the truth when gray had started to infiltrate Hector’s hair.

  Tall and brawny, Hector 1.0 closed his mouth and slapped Roman on the back, claiming he knew all along. They fought with each other, and their enemies. They laughed and loved, and lied to others but not to each other. When Hector died surrounded by his wife, children, and grandchildren, Roman thanked him for his friendship and took his favorite grandson as his new Hector.

  “How is the young lady today?” Hector asked when Roman exited the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips.

  A long shower and shave made him feel human again. “She’s improving,” he replied, while pulling on black slacks and a charcoal tee.

  “Have you spoken to Bianca?” Hector’s neutral voice gave nothing away.

  “You assume to know what I plan to say.”

  “Assuming would be foolhardy since I know what you’re going to say. What you are going to do is the true question.”

  Amazingly, Hector served him breakfast. Manual labor was anathema to man. Plus, there was the house rule: When at home, you ate with the family. No exceptions.

  Roman sipped his O.J. and wondered if he’d poisoned the drink. His trusted butler wasn’t above poisoning him to prove a point. He’d done it before, and though he hadn’t died, those weren’t the most pleasant two days of his life. Sometime servant, part time keeper, always a friend, summed up Hector.

  “Hopefully Elyssian will be out of the hospital soon.” Hector continued in the same neutral tone.

  “Her name is Stella.” Roman corrected his obvious slip.

  “Stella.” He said the name with distain. “And where will she go? What will she do then? I suppose she could return to the same apartment where she almost died. And the same late night job at the diner. I suppose that would be adequate for, Stella.”

  Roman knew his game. Bait him with the danger facing her. Then hook him with the obvious answer.

  “Do you realize that there have been no murders attributed to the killer since, Stella?” Hector paused. “Still, I suppose she will be fine on her own.” He started tidying the room. “Have you ever seen the green room? Probably not, so many rooms are empty in the house. Actually, it’s the room next to yours. It overlooks the pool and catches the morning sun. Quite a lovely room in all pastel greens with its own bath. All around, a lovely suite.”

  “Considering that I’m still engaged to Bianca, I’m surprised you want her here.”

  “She’s Elyssian. Where else should she go? Besides, I knew you and Bianca wouldn’t work.” With arms behind his back, Hector waited for Roman’s approval.

  “I’m sure she will like the room,” Roman agreed.

  Hector’s lip almost curled into a smile. “Good thing I already prepared it.” He gathered the breakfast tray and left.

  Roman glanced at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. A painting of the woman he remembered hung framed in gold. With the beach as a backdrop and the hills in the distance, she lay on the dunes facing him, her grass green eyes watched him while her golden hair draped her delicate body. He longed to return to that day and right the wrongs that cursed both of them. But, deep in his heart, he doubted he had the will to alter the course of their lives. The ever-present guilt coursed like syrup through his veins. Better than the millennia he spent choking on it.

  He took her virginity on that beach and then lost her forever. For that one moment they were happy. It seemed that’s all fate would give him.

  “Elyssian,” he croaked, her named a millstone around his heart. Would he ever escape this trap and reclaim the woman he loved?

  Thane stepped off the elevator. Anger seared him the instant he spotted E.J. standing in the hallway paying too much attention to a nurse. E.J. saw him exit the elevator, but continued talking to the lovely nurse, grinning into his face. The youngest of the brothers, Thane understood why Roman didn’t want E.J. on this assignment. Irresponsible. Too flighty for a job like this and too easily distracted. Yeah, his boyish charm hid an accomplished fighter and sharpshooter, but Roman would tolerate nothing happening to Stella Walker.

  He frowned. Roman had been through enough. You’d think E.J. would try to be more vigilant since he’d called him on the way over and informed him exactly who Stella was.

  “Report!” he snarled, interrupting E.J.’s eye fuck party. Thane stopped between him and the nurse.

  E.J. straightened from his slouch. Dressed in all black, studded with metal on his jeans and boots, his bright red hair and freckled face drew as much attention as his six foot three inch muscular frame. At about the same height, they eyeballed each other.

  “Aren’t you tired of the suits yet?” E.J. fingered his lapel. “Don’t you miss RON JON?” E.J. hooked a finger in his Wranglers belt loop and deliberately brushed his Gucci’s with his steel-toed boots.
<
br />   He never failed to press the Cali button. Another time and a bit more privacy, his fist would make E.J. swallow that mug shot grin along with memories that refused to die. “Report,” he commanded.

  “I think she’s waking up. She started coughing and pulling at all the tubes. I called the nurse. The room filled with doctors and they kicked my ass out. Satisfied?”

  The tension eased from Thane’s shoulders. He scrutinized everyone in the ICU unit, taking everything in quickly. “Is everything quiet here?”

  “Beeping machines, doctors running back and forth. One guy croaked over there. Few cute nurses.” He winked and gave a nod to the current object of his affection. “It’s been fairly quiet the four hours I’ve been here.” E.J. resumed his slouch against the wall, but Thane noticed how his eyes kept scanning. His little brother wasn’t as inept as he appeared.

  More than an hour passed with them waiting in the hall while doctors and nurses filtered by. Finally, they were OK’d to enter. He knocked on the door before pushing it open.

  The first time Thane met Stella, he’d thought she’d never leave the hospital. Covered in bandages and drainage tubes, machines keeping her alive, her chances were less than slim. He hadn’t turned down Doc Orley’s request because at the time, he didn’t think she’d survive.

  Today, she looked better. Though limp, her hair framed her pale face. The bruises on the left side of her face were faded black and blue smudges. He stepped closer and absorbed her delicate features. A smooth brow with arched eyebrows and long curly eyelashes, a gentle, sloping nose, and a generous, rosy mouth, perfect for kissing. A delectable package. Even though the scar on the right side broke the flawlessness, nothing could diminish her beauty.

  Her eyes were open, but unfocused as she clutched a mirror to her chest.

  “I’m Thane. This is my brother, E.J.”

  She smoothed her hair over the scarred side of her face before her gaze swiveled to his, then E.J.’s. Her eyebrows drew together. Thane smiled. He was blond and tanned, to E.J.’s red hair, pale skin and freckles. They looked nothing like siblings. Still, regardless of DNA, E.J. was his brother, as were the other men in the house.

  “We’re your bodyguards,” Thane said in hushed tones.

  Her eyebrows furrowed more.

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  Her eyelids fluttered and panic settled over her features. He moved closer to the bed. Her storm colored eyes stared at him.

  “Dr. Orley hired us. We’ll do any and everything to protect you. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He made an effort to divert her growing panic.

  Her voice cracked. Both men reached for the water jug, spilling liquid and ice chips across the bedside table. E.J. left to get a refill while Thane grabbed a nearby towel and mopped up.

  Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Is he still out there?” she croaked, her voice gravelly.

  Should he answer truthfully? If she survived this— “Yes. He is.”

  Her gazed rambled around the room, lost before settling on him again. “How long—” Her voice gave out.

  “You’ve been here nearly three weeks.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “You were seriously hurt, Miss Walker. He almost killed you.”

  E.J. returned with the pitcher and poured her a drink. A spike of jealousy twisted in his gut when she smiled at the oaf and E.J. grinned back stupidly.

  “What, how—my school, work. I don’t—can’t pay,” she whispered, her voice still cracking after draining the cup.

  “Whoa. One thing at a time.” He took her hand and brushed her fingers with his thumb. When she smiled, it was like the sun parted the clouds in her eyes. His chest tightened.

  The door opened. Thane and E.J. crouched. Tension morphed their friendly faces into hostile masks. Hands to their guns, ready to defend her, they pivoted toward the door.

  Roman entered. Dressed in slacks and a tee with shades covering his eyes, he still looked like a CEO, powerful and in control of everything around him. The small ICU room shrank around the three six foot tall men. Ever the warrior, Roman scanned for adversaries, as if one could secret away somewhere in the tiny room. They each received a slight nod in their directions. Then he removed his shades.

  Thane wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad for the man who was both father and brother to him. He glanced at Stella and hoped to see some form of welcome on her face.

  “Hello, Stella,” Roman said.

  A forced smile hung like a bad painting on Roman’s drawn face. Nothing in Thane envied the man. He pitied him as Roman stood at the end of her bed, no doubt praying for her to remember him, love him again. He turned his attention back to Stella.

  Immobile, a statue held more animation than she. Did she see the man who has loved her for two millennia or a stranger with nothing familiar to her? He felt the hand he still held tremble.

  Stella couldn’t move. Caught in the glare of headlights, she couldn’t pry herself out of the way of the cement truck heading toward her. She couldn’t breathe, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the man that entered her room. Everything about him seemed familiar.

  His height. He towered over the other men in the room. His width. He was wider, his shoulders broader, arms bigger. An endless expanse of muscle comprised his chest. And his face, her heart lurched.

  He was too much. She closed her eyes, but a deep part of her ignited and tried to free a locked memory.

  “Hello, Stella,” Roman said.

  His voice reverberated deep within her. He stepped closer. She opened her eyes and tilted her head up to look at him again.

  Blue eyes. The same blue eyes.

  She gasped. Air rushed into her lungs. Her heart tried to climb out of her chest. Panting, her gaze locked onto the man standing at the end of her bed. Images returned. Running. Caught. Airborne. Glass cutting into her head and back. Light reflecting off the blade before slicing into her body. Her face! His rough laughter, and cold blue eyes.

  She threw herself into Thane’s arms.

  Startled, Thane tried to extract himself and calm her. Why is she frightened? He uttered some soothing words he thought would work, but she clutched him harder. He looked to E.J. for help, but the idiot just stood next to the bed in a stupor. He turned to Roman and saw agony chiseled on his face. God! He had to defuse this situation. Whatever this situation was?

  He tried to extricate himself from the frantic woman without hurting her. He couldn’t. Through the material of his suit and shirt, he felt her nails digging into his shoulders as she dragged herself up his chest. Wires pulled free and machines screamed. To stop her climb, he leaned down and let her bring him down to her.

  “It’s him!” she croaked.

  Confused, Thane asked, “What—”

  “He attacked me!”

  A bomb would’ve been quieter than her words.

  All eyes turned to Roman. He retreated a step. A look of shock and horror covered his face. But then he leveled his gaze on each man, challenging them.

  Thane managed to pull away from her. “Miss Walker.” He shook her gently to gain her attention. “Stella, he didn’t—”

  “It’s him!” Her voice rose, her eyes filled with tears.

  CHAPTER 6

  A nurse entered. “Clear this room now!” More nurses followed, filling the unit. One grabbed Stella’s arm. Roman noticed blood dripping onto the white sheets from her IV. She struggled against them, but the fight soon went out of her and she slumped back onto the mattress.

  “Let’s get out of here, Roman. Give the nurses room to work,” someone said.

  He didn’t resist when he was herded from her room and into the family waiting room.

  “You were camping, right?” E.J. blurted as soon as they entered.

  “Are you questioning me?” Roman gazed at both the men. “Do you not believe me?”

  “No, Roman.” E.J. put a hand on his shoulder. “Never a question.”

  “
Why does she think it’s you?” Thane asked.

  He looked at Thane and still saw her slim body in his arms. “Something about me reminds her of him. Fuck!” He clenched his fist to keep from hitting someone.

  “She didn’t remember you, huh?” E.J. answered his own question.

  They both glared at him.

  “You think?” Thane glibly replied.

  Roman moved away from them. Their questions and grim faces crowded his thoughts. He needed fresh air to breathe and think.

  “What are you going to do?” E.J. questioned.

  “I’ll stay and guard her,” Thane volunteered.

  “No,” Roman growled low in his throat and went to the exit. Seeing her clinging to Thane made him vicious. Even now, he could barely stand his presence. Payback? A taste of how Thane felt when Bianca chose him? Maybe. Any other woman, Roman could take it as justice served. But not Elyssian. Not Stella.

  “Thane, you’re now in charge of daily operations. Everyone will refer to you. I want Quin on this case. I want to know what the police know.” Orders given, he left.

  A young female detective stood in front of Stella’s room. Cheap suit and comfortable shoes gave her away, but he’d met her once before. The second night he’d guarded Stella, she and her partner showed up. A rookie, her gold shield just two months old, her partner was twenty years her senior and lead detective on The Village Strangler case. A tall woman, she stood at least five eleven and met his gaze with a discerning, steady stare.

  “Detective Lever.” He shook her hand. “Pleasure to see you again. What brings you here?”

  “My witness is awake. I came to talk to her. Hopefully she remembers something. Anything at all would be helpful.”

  He nodded. “She was . . . agitated this morning.”

  They entered the room. Quiet and bundled under covers, Stella was sedated.

  “Did she say anything while she was awake? Anything about the attack?”