Chasing Adonis (7 page)

Shane’s sharp gaze veered from one to the other, but their
expressions gave away nothing. He’d walked onstage in the middle of some
bizarre play. Everyone knew their lines and places but him.

“Is there something you wanted, Detective?” Pha asked,
setting the flowers on the window ledge.

Shane hated him, hated the way Pha treated Ms. Berros as if
he owned her. As if she couldn’t possibly speak for herself. But he tamped down
his judgment and forced a bland expression.

“Yes, Mr. Pha. I wanted to speak to Ms. Berros about what
happened this morning.” He kept his eyes trained on Adara Berros as he spoke,
sending a silent communication that he expected Adara, and only Adara, to
answer him.

“To be honest, Detective,” she said in that same lyrical
voice he remembered hearing on the dispatch. “I remember absolutely nothing
about what happened. Really, I’ve tried.  The last thing I recall is
sitting with my girlfriends in the Silk Club. And then I woke up here with Ted
by my side.”

How convenient. But Shane didn’t buy it for a minute. “Mr.
Pha, would you mind if I spoke to Ms. Berros alone?”

Pha smiled, nearly blinding Shane with the brilliance of
white teeth inside his bronze face. Jeez, how many hours a week did this guy
spend in a tanning salon anyway?

“Of course.” Pha reached for the hand inside the bed sheets
and kissed it tenderly. “My darling, I shall be right outside the door. Should
you require my presence, you merely need to call my name.”

“Thank you, Ted,” she replied with a sweet smile.

Shane glared sharpened icicles at Pha as he walked out of
the room.

But the cold look melted the minute Ms. Berros said, “Thank
God. I thought he’d never leave.”

Chapter Six

Heat crept into Adara’s cheeks. No matter how relieved she was
to have Ted gone, she never should have admitted as much aloud. 

Detective Griffin gestured to her empty water pitcher. “Can
I get you something to drink?”

If she could get out of the bed, she’d bend and kiss his
feet just for asking. “Yes, please, but not yet.”

Pulling the chair closer to her side, he cocked his head.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me about Mr. Pha?”

“No.” Adara dropped her gaze to the sheet’s ragged hem. “Not
really.”

“Not really? What does that mean?”

Another reason to avoid opening her big wazoo without
remembering her audience: a good detective doesn’t give up.

The words left her mouth faster than floodwater through a
broken dam. “He’s been here since I woke up. And he’s making me crazy.” God,
she sounded like the elementary school tattletale snitching on a classmate. But
no way she could keep the emotions bottled up. “He keeps talking about when I’m
going to marry him. I mean, I don’t even
know
the man.”

The detective’s eyes widened. Wow. They were the most
arresting shade of blue. When she realized her unintentional pun, she swallowed
the rising giggle.

“You don’t know him?”

She shook her head, allowing her cheeks a chance to cool. “I
only met him a few hours ago.”

“Then why did he tell the 911 operator you were his fiancée?”

She sputtered. “He did?”

“Yes, he did.”

Oh, now that was too much. She’d allowed Ted to get away
with a lot since she’d first seen him here, mainly because… Well, because who
wouldn’t be flattered that a gorgeous man had traveled thousands of miles to
claim her as his perfect match? But when he made those declarations publicly,
without her knowledge, flattery turned to annoyance.

“Is that a problem?” The detective’s smooth baritone broke
her musings.

She far preferred his deep Long Island accent to Ted’s lilt
and oddly drawn out vowels.

“Yes, it is.” A definite problem. On too many levels to
count. Her lips compressed into a tight line. Once Ted returned to this room,
she’d have to give him a detailed lecture regarding his whirlwind courtship
methods.

“Adara? May I call you Adara?”

A spark of pleasure lit inside her, and she nodded. After
Ted’s continual fawning and quick assumptions, the detective’s more formal
manner was as welcome as a no-calorie margarita. Funny. The last time she’d
dealt with the police, the experience had left her shaken and stirred—

a veritable martini of icy emotions.
Were county cops so different from the state troopers then?

“Adara?” The detective’s tone took on a shy, hesitant
quality. “Does Ted beat you often?”

“Wh-what?” Where the hell did
that
come from? She
stared at him, waiting for the joke. None came. In fact, the detective’s eyes
softened, sympathy emanating from the crease between his brows.

“Does he lose his temper and place his hands on you in
anger? Are you ever afraid of him?” He paused, a heartbeat, no more. And when
he spoke again, his voice was whisper-soft, a caress across her skin. “Do you
need a liaison, someone to step in?”

She shook her head to clear the fog in her brain. Maybe her
painkillers had kicked in. Still, he peered at her with that same expression of
pity.

“What are you talking about? I told you, I just met him.”
She pressed the button on the bedrail to raise herself higher.  “And, by
the way, if he ever so much as laid a finger on me, I wouldn’t waste time with
a ‘liaison.’ I’d have him on his knees in fifteen seconds flat.”

“Fifteen seconds?”

“I hold a third degree black belt in karate,” she said with
pride.

He sat, his face impassive. “Really? So you think you’re
pretty capable where men are concerned?”

Ooh, she hated that condescending tone in a man’s voice. The
one that said,
Isn’t she cute? She thinks she can kick ass because she took
some martial arts classes at the gym or dated a karate instructor for a couple
of months.

Too bad she was pinned in this bed. Otherwise, she’d show
him how capable she really was. For now, she’d settle for bragging rights.

“Mmm-hmm. And I have a red belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, too.
Trust me. I can take care of myself. No one, male or female, would ever lay a
hand on me and get away with it.”

“So then, Adara, how’d you get the souvenirs?” He pointed to
the cast around her leg and the I.V. tubes snaking up her arm.

Was he kidding? “I was hit by a car, Detective.” Acid
dripped from each syllable. “Weren’t you at the scene?”

“Do you remember the accident, Adara?”

Should she? An icy finger danced over her nape. “No.”

“Do you remember speaking to me?”

“No.” She stifled a shiver.

“Do you remember making a call to 911 and reporting your
companion was unconscious but breathing?”

“No.” The denial came out automatically, but then she paused
to think about what he’d asked. “Wait. Hold up. Are you saying someone else was
with me when I got run over? Who? Jayne? Oh, God, not Renee. She’s just getting
over foot surgery.”

He cocked his head and flipped open his notebook. “Jayne?
Renee? Are those the friends who were with you last night? Can you give me
their last names and their contact info?”

She struggled to sit up. “Are they okay? Please tell me I
didn’t kill anyone.”

His full lips broke into a half-smile. “You didn’t kill
anyone. Now, your friends. Renee? Jayne? Last names? Contact info?”

She rattled off the pertinent details, including Chloe’s
information as well, but her mind kept returning to the identity of her
stricken companion. “Just tell me this. Is she in this hospital?”

He looked up from his notebook, brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Whoever was with me last night. Maybe I should try to find
her and make sure she’s all right.”

“That won’t be necessary.
He’s
just fine. As a matter
of fact, he seems better than fine.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“Mmm-hmm. You’ve seen him too.” He nodded toward the closed
door. “Mr. Pha.”

Her gaze followed his nod, and then returned to his
inscrutable face. “Ted? But he doesn’t have a scratch on him.”

The detective shrugged. “Weird, isn’t it? Tell me, Ms.
Berros. What do you know about him? What has he told you?”

The heat in her cheeks flared anew and traveled down her
throat. “Strange things.” Her left index finger crept toward her teeth again,
but she pulled it away and hid it between the sheets. “He said he’s from
Cyprus, that my Aunt Persephone sent him.”

“Sent him for what purpose?”

Adara released a nervous giggle. What would the detective
think when she told him Ted’s reason for being here? “Okay, this is the most
bizarre part of everything I’ve heard since I woke up this morning. Ted claims
my Aunt Persephone sent him here to marry me.”

Not quite what she expected. The detective showed no
reaction at all. He merely wrote her answer down on his little notepad, and
then looked up at her, his face a good-looking void. “Is that possible? Would
your aunt send someone to marry you?”

She could probably tell him pigs bay at the moon on Tuesday
nights, and he’d accept the statement as fact. Not that he was gullible. A cool
determination lit his eyes, belying naïveté. No, he wanted to believe her for
some reason. He accepted her explanations at face value, and for that, he’d
have her eternal gratitude.

“You see, that’s the thing.” She pushed the button to elevate
the head of the bed a little more. Now her eyes directly lined up with his. She
liked this position. It presented him as more her equal and gave her some
dignity. Dignity she’d been sorely lacking in the last few hours.

“I only met Aunt Persephone once. I was about six years old
at the time. I barely remember her. I have no idea what she might do now.
According to Ted, my mother’s death left Aunt Persephone as my guardian until I
marry. Knowing I would balk, she sent him to marry me.” She shrugged. “Kill two
birds with one stone, I suppose.”

“Do you know for certain your Aunt Persephone sent him?”

“Well, no, but…he knows things about me.”

One dark eyebrow arched. “What sort of things?”

“A lot of things. Personal things. Things even my best
girlfriends don’t know.”

“And you think your Aunt Persephone told him these things?”

Her throat dried to dust. “I’m not sure. Like I said, I only
met her once. And that was over twenty years ago. So if she told him these
things, how did
she
know about them?”

“You tell me.”

“I wish I could.”

She tried to remember her mother mentioning her father’s
sister at any other time besides the week Aunt Persephone visited, but no. Mom
never talked about Dad, much less anyone related to him. Once he walked out the
door, in Mom’s mind, he never existed. A tiny hammer pounded in Adara’s brain,
and she closed her eyes to ward off the pain.

After a moment, she opened them again and offered him an
apologetic grimace. “I think my painkillers are wearing off.”

“Should I get the nurse?” He turned toward the door, but she
raised her unencumbered hand to stop him.

“No, please. If you go out there, Ted will come back in
here. I need a little more time to compose myself before that happens. There’s
only so much simpering adoration a girl can take.”

He smiled as if to say he understood perfectly, and she
believed he did. Closing her eyes again, she settled against the pillow. In the
hopes of easing some of her pain, she allowed her mind to drift, and behind her
closed eyelids, she saw a nametag. Using every last ounce of strength, she
focused her throbbing brain cells on the letters engraved on that square black
and white pin. Too small to make out clearly, but she kept pushing until
flashes of details, like snapshots, came back to her.

Protectors of treasure, an eagle’s head and wings attached
to a lion’s body…

“What did you say your name was, Detective?” she asked
slowly.

“Griffin,” he replied, just as she knew he would. “Shane
Griffin.”

“You caught me when I collapsed.”

~~~~

Almost immediately after her announcement, Ms. Berros fell
silent. Soon, her breathing pattern became even. Her painkillers pulled her
under yet again.

Shane left her room a few minutes later and ran smack-dab
into Pha lingering outside the door. “She’s asleep.”

“Yes, I know.”

Did he? Shane had to quash the urge to soothe the prickly
hairs on the back of his neck. Damn, this guy’s attitude really rankled. “So
then, why don’t you come down to the precinct and answer a few questions for me?”

Pha’s eyes remained steady, never looking away from Shane’s
concentrated gaze. “I truly hate to leave Adara’s side right now. Could you not
ask me your questions here?”

Yeah, he could, but if Adara wanted this clown out of her
hair for a while, the least Shane could do was oblige her. “It’s easier in the
precinct. This way, I’ll have a record of your
cooperation
.”

The stress he put on the word, “cooperation” didn’t escape
Pha’s notice, and the man bowed, his glistening smile nearly blinding in the
dim hallway. “Then, by all means, Detective. Lead on.”

Like everything else about Pha, his speech pattern grated on
Shane’s nerves. The lack of contractions coupled with that formal manner
reminded him of eleventh grade, Mrs. Curry’s English Lit class, and
Hamlet
.

“I don’t suppose you come with Cliff’s Notes,” he tossed
back over his shoulder as he stalked down the hall toward the elevator.

“Far too much of life is already abbreviated, Detective.” In
two strides, Pha caught up to him. “You…Americans…are all alike. Speeding
through the moments meant to give joy, always wishing for time to move faster.
And then one day, you are an old man, regretting the hours you spent away from
your loved ones, wishing you had a little more time to share with them. Fools,
the lot of you.”