"I doona need therapy," Robby grumbled. He just needed revenge. Three months of exercise had whipped him back into shape, and he was ready to go. Ready to leave this wretched island and hunt Casimir down.
The angel's lovely face floated back into his mind, erasing the image of his enemy. She had to be real. A mere dream couldn't have affected him this strongly. He had to see her again. Even when there were a dozen reasons why he should avoid her, he'd still try to see her again.
Maybe he did need therapy after all.
It was past three in the morning when Olivia finally fell asleep. Unfortunately, it was Sunday morning, and her grandmother woke her at dawn so they could go to church. Apparently if she didn't go, everyone in Grikos would say bad things about her.
Afterward, Olivia was put to work in the kitchen, helping her grandmother cook an enormous amount of food, and then, surprise! Two of Yia Yia's best friends showed up for dinner with their eligible sons. Olivia was cordial, but disappointed that neither of them had red hair. Luckily, their English was as limited as her Greek, so she didn't have to talk much. Her mind kept wandering back to the man on the beach. Who was he? Would he be back tonight?
By nine o'clock in the evening, jet lag and sleep deprivation caught up with her, and she stumbled off to bed. As she pulled the blanket up to her chin, she told herself she'd only take a short nap. She'd be in the courtyard at 1:00 A.M., waiting for the mysterious jogger to pass by.
She blinked awake when sunlight poured into her window. "Oh no!"
She sat up and looked at her bedside clock. Eight-thirty in the morning? Damn. She slipped the red booties onto her feet and shuffled into the kitchen.
"There you are, sleepyhead." Her grandmother was stirring something on the stove. "I've already been to the bakery. There's fresh bread on the table next to the honey jar. I'll bring you a cup of tea."
"Thank you." Olivia sat down and cut off a thick slice of bread. As she reached for the honey jar, she noticed the narrow vase in the center of the table with a single red rosebud. "I didn't know you grew roses."
"I don't. You can't eat them." Eleni set a cup of tea on the table and regarded her with a gleam in her eye. "I think you have a secret admirer."
Olivia blinked. "Me?"
"Who do you think he is? Giorgios or Dimitrios?" Eleni referred to the men who'd come over the day before.
"I don't know." Olivia's mind had immediately snapped to the mysterious jogger with red hair and intense eyes. Could it be him? She reached out to touch the soft red petals. "You didn't see who delivered it?"
"No." Eleni planted her hands on her hips and frowned at the flower. "There was no note with it. I swept the courtyard early this morning, and while I was sweeping off the steps I found it halfway down to the beach. It was lying there, pinned down by a rock."
Olivia's heart raced. "Then whoever left it came from the beach." It had to be from him.
Eleni gasped. "Of course! It's from Spiro! He lives just down the beach." She clasped her hands together, grinning. "My beautiful Spiro and Olivia together, right here on Patmos. Oh, the beautiful babies you'll have."
"Wait a minute. I'm not so sure it came from Spiro. And I don't want you getting your hopes up about me living here. I specialize in criminals, and I seriously doubt if Patmos has enough of those to keep me in business."
Eleni sat at the table with a huff. "We do have criminals. Last year there was a boy from Hora whose bicycle was stolen. Right in front of the monastery, too. It was shocking."
Olivia shook her head as she drizzled honey on her bread. "Not bad enough."
"Humph. Why do you need criminals? Can't you help normal crazy people? Patmos has plenty of those. There's a goat herder in Kambos who talks to his goats."
Olivia sipped her tea. "It's not unusual for people to talk to their animals."
"Ah, but in this case, his goats talk back. And the solid black goat speaks Turkish."
Olivia stifled a grin. "He's the worst case you've got to offer?"
Eleni tilted her head, considering. "Well, there's the old widower in Skala who was caught peeping in Maria Stephanopoulos's window. His son started taking him to the nude beach at Plaki once a week, so he's much better now."
Olivia nodded. "I'm afraid that Peeping Tom syndrome is contagious. I heard there's a widow woman in Grikos who uses a telescope to spy on a nearby goat herder."
Eleni scoffed. "I'm not a Peeping Tom! I'm just admiring Spiro. He's a work of art. It's like I'm going to the museum. And I've never seen him naked. That wouldn't be right, not when I want him to marry my granddaughter."
Olivia winced, then took a bite of bread. Maybe her grandmother had a point. Not about Spiro, but about her work with criminals. Her life could be so different if she played it safe and lived here.
Who was she kidding? She wouldn't last two months before boredom drove her absolutely bonkers. She thrived on the excitement that came with her work at the FBI. At least she had until her job had brought her into contact with one criminal in particular. The monster, Otis Crump. She didn't have to worry about him sending roses. That sick pervert preferred apples. Big red apples.
"Hmm." Eleni drummed her fingers on the table as she glared at the rose. "I don't like secrets. I want to know who this admirer is."