Chasing Adonis (9 page)

She smacked her dry lips and tried to sit up, but a wave of
lightheadedness overwhelmed her, and she sank into the pillow. “Woozy,” she
croaked. “And my tongue feels like sandpaper.”

The nurse nodded in understanding. “That’s the effects of
the painkillers. I’ll fill your water pitcher. And you’ll get apple juice with
your meal.”

“Yum.”

“Don’t knock it.” She slipped a blood pressure cuff over
Adara’s bare arm and a plastic coated thermometer under her tongue. “That juice
might turn out to be the best part of the meal today. You never know what
you’re gonna get…” Her voice trailed off as she tended to the waist-high
apparatus of blinking lights and assorted wires at her side.

With the punch of a button, the cuff on Adara’s upper arm
exerted so much pressure, she thought her eyes would pop out of their sockets.
Then a low-pitched buzz pierced the quiet, and the cuff’s python-like squeeze
relaxed.

“One-ten over sixty,” the nurse announced, removing the
thermometer and sliding off the cuff. “And no fever. That’s good.” She picked
up the pink plastic pitcher from the table near the bed. “I’ll get you some
water now.”

“Thank you,” Adara managed.

“You’re welcome, dearie.” The pretty RN winked and headed
for the door, dragging the machine behind her. “That’s why I’m here. To make
your recovery easier.”

While she walked, her neck was turned toward Adara in the
bed, and she collided with the visitor coming in.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a familiar male voice said.

Adara sat up and looked into the doorway in delighted
surprise. “Detective Griffin? Is that you?”

“‘Fraid so,” he said with a grin.

Good thing she already reclined. A smile like that could
send her reeling if she happened to be on her feet. The expression never left
his face as he approached her bedside, but his eyes didn’t look directly at
her. His gaze seemed to study the sheets covering her feet. Adara had the eerie
feeling she knew what that meant: either the detective had bad news, or he had
really
bad news.

Forcing a light tone, she asked, “Do you have information
for me already?”

Those blue eyes snapped up to her face as if jolted with a
thousand volts. “Not exactly. I took a chance, based on your last name, that
you were a fan of Greek cuisine.” He held up a white paper bag. “Gyros,
souvlaki, and something called ‘kookaburras’, sugar cookies, for dessert.”

She giggled at his poor translation. “They’re
kourabiethes
.
And you’re a lifesaver. The nurse was just preparing me for what I might have
been forced to eat for dinner.”

“Dreck.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Looks like I got
here in the nick of time.”

“Why are you here? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it,
but I bet you don’t make a habit of bringing meals to the poor unfortunates
stuck in the hospital. So what makes me so special?”

“It’s your birthday, remember? No one should have to eat
hospital slop on her birthday.”

With smooth efficiency, he moved her tray table so that it
dissected the middle of her bed and laid the bag on top. He then pulled out
paper plates, two bundles wrapped in foil, plastic silverware, and a fistful of
napkins. Yup, she could get used to this, a handsome man taking care of her
with such thoughtfulness and precision.

“Do you want the gyro or the souvlaki?”

“The gyro.” Always her downfall, she thought with a grimace
as she imagined the lamb and pita slathered directly onto her hips.

He unwrapped the overstuffed sandwich and placed it on her
plate. The spicy aroma wafted into her nostrils, making her stomach bubble and
growl in not so subtle reminders that she hadn’t eaten anything since last
night’s Lean Cuisine. Despite the certain demise of her hips, she couldn’t
resist taking a healthy bite. As she’d suspected, the smell didn’t compare to
the heavenly taste.

“Good?”

“Mmmmmm. Food of the gods.”

“Glad to hear it. You have anything to drink?”

Her mouth full, she gestured to the door then swallowed.
“The nurse is filling my water pitcher.”

“Tap water—a perfect accompaniment to such a culinary feast!”

He chuckled at his own joke, but Adara didn’t so much as
crack a smile. “Detective? What are you
really
doing here?”

At last, the grin faded. “Probing your brain. I need to know
everything you can recall from the accident this morning. And everything the
mysterious Mr. Pha has said since your first encounter.”

“I told you this morning, I don’t remember much at all.
What’s going on? Who is Ted?”

“I was hoping you knew.”

She took another bite of her gyro and allowed the tangy
flavors to slide down her throat. “You already know everything I know. And I’m
only able to give you that much information because Ted told me.”

“Let’s start over.”

The detective bit into his souvlaki, and Adara had a sudden longing
to feel those even white teeth grazing her shoulder. She shook her head and
squelched the thought, dismissing it as some kind of leftover hallucination
from her painkillers.

“What was the first question you asked when you woke up and
saw him here this morning?”

The memories tickled in the back of her head, but she
managed to pull them to the forefront with ease. “I asked him who he was. He
said I could call him Tedior Pha.” And then she recalled the last two phrases
of that statement. “For now. If I like.”

“For now? If you liked?”

“Mmm-hmm. I found that odd, too. Like it wasn’t his real
name.” She placed the gyro on the plate, her appetite waning. “Do you think
he’s a fugitive or something? Should I be afraid of him?”

“I think you should be wary of him. At least until I figure
out who he really is and what he wants with you.”

She rolled her eyes and gestured to the cast around her leg.
“Be wary? How exactly am I supposed to do that? I’m a virtual prisoner here.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay here for the
remainder of the day—in case he decides to come back. Don’t worry. I won’t
disturb you. As soon as I’m done eating, I’ll post myself outside the door so
you can have your privacy.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” A heated blush crept into
her cheeks when she realized how quickly she’d spoken, and how lonely that
eager sentence made her sound. She coughed and took another bite of the
sandwich, hoping the dressing would cool her down. “What I mean is, hospitals
aren’t exactly known for protecting a person’s privacy. In the last four hours,
more people have seen my body than previously saw it in my whole thirty years
of life.”

He grinned. “You’re lucky you fractured your ankle. I was
shot high in the thigh last year, and let me tell you, hundreds of total
strangers got a real eyeful of my precious jewels. I swear they were selling
tickets to people in the lobby.”

Probably made a fortune. Heck, I’d max my MasterCard to
get a close look at what he hid beneath that uniform. What a commercial that
would make. “An officer’s precious jewels: priceless.”

She giggled. Jeez, her painkillers must be awfully strong.
They were turning her into a first class nympho. Wouldn’t her karate instructor
be shocked? He always accused her of only assessing men to see how quickly she
could get them to the mat during a grappling match. And while she’d love to get
Detective Griffin on a mat, grappling had little to do with what her fertile
imagination planned if she succeeded in pinning him.

She cleared her throat, hoping to clear the visions of a
sweating, naked detective at the same time. “You were shot?”

“Mmm-hmm. A sniper at a gas station last summer.”

“I remember that case. A guy caught his wife in a car with
another man, went berserk, and opened fire on the little glass booth where the
attendant sits. He killed another officer before you brought him down.”

He nodded solemnly. “My late partner.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. He was a great partner. And an even better
friend.”

“You must see a lot of tragedy in your line of work.”

His eyes grew dark, almost misty, but he stared at her feet
again when he said, “I’ve lost a lot of people I care about. Especially
recently.”

Suddenly uncomfortable and sensing she’d tread on painful
ground, she stared down at the bed sheet folded against her chest. “I guess my
little hit and run pales in comparison.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Your circumstances are just as dire
right now.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I think it’s worth considering until we get more
information. So, let’s get back to it. After he told you to call him Ted for
now, what else did he say?”

Adara racked her brain, trying to come up with something
new. But what else could she possibly tell him?

“What did you ask him after his name?” the detective
prompted.

“I asked him why I was in the hospital. He told me about the
accident.”

“Did he say how he happened to be at the accident site?”

“Yes. He said he went to see me at the Silk Club.”

“Did he tell you how he knew you’d be at the Silk Club?”

Duh. “Um, no. And I didn’t think to ask. Pretty stupid,
huh?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I think it’s probably smarter that
you don’t question him. Let him think he’s won you over. Trust me. One
suspicious person on his tail is enough. And if he’s going to get angry with
someone, it should be me.”

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

Shane jumped at the sound and vibration of the pager on his
belt. Unclipping it, he glanced at the name displayed in the tiny window.
Lou—and the code, “HS,” which stood for hot stuff. Unless Lou suddenly had an
affinity for porn sites, he’d bet that code had to do with something the old
hound dog found on the elusive Pha.

“Would you excuse me, Adara? I have to go downstairs and
make a phone call. I’ll be right back.”

“Leave the
kourabiethes
, and you’ve got a deal.”

He grinned. “You got it.”

God, he hoped Lou’s news wasn’t too hot. He genuinely liked
Adara Berros. He’d hate to think of her involved in something illegal or,
worse, in real danger. While disheartening thoughts plagued his brain, he left
the room and headed to the lobby—the only place inside the hospital where he
could use his cell phone. With a jabbing finger, he punched in the number and
impatiently waited through the unanswered rings.

Finally, Lou’s voice crackled across the line. “Gennaro
speaking.”

“Lou? It’s Shane. What have you got for me?”

“First things first. You on a secure line?”

“I’m on my cell.”

“Un-unh. Not for this, buddy boy. Call me back on a land
line.”

Click
.

Shit. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lou’s
information was pretty serious. Goddamn it, he knew that Pha character was no
good. Gut instinct hadn’t steered him wrong in fifteen years.

Not wanting to leave Adara alone for too long, he sought out
the nearest pay phone and, using his calling card, redialed Lou’s direct line.

“Gennaro.”

“I’m on a payphone. What have you got?”

Lou’s voice lowered to a whisper. “What the hell are you
mixed up in now, Shane?”

“What? Whaddya mean? You come up with something on Pha?”

“Nothing on Pha. I checked with the FBI, the CIA, and
Interpol. As far as they’re concerned, he never existed ‘til he showed up at
the accident scene this morning.”

Terrific. So why the secure line and all the secrecy?

“But get this,” Lou continued. “Adara Berros. At first I had
nothing. She got a speeding ticket back in 1994. Other than that, she’s cleaner
than a virgin bride. So I’m about to give up, right? But her name’s hanging on
my tongue, like I should know it from someplace. So on a hunch, I run her
through the state crime database and wham! Got a hit almost immediately. Shane,
do you remember a guy named Terence McGill?”

“No.”

“Yeah, well it was a state case, not county. But it was
pretty hot in the news for a while there. Think back a coupla years. It’ll come
to you.”

“Lou, I really don’t have time for this…”

“Okay, so I’ll get to the point. About two and a half years
ago, Memorial Day weekend, Terence McGill was sideswiped in the center lane on
the Southern State Parkway. A little road rage ensued between him and the other
driver—the usual stuff: flashing brights, blaring horns, a coupla curse words
tossed out open windows. Finally, the other driver pulled into a deserted rest
stop, and McGill followed, probably thinking they’d exchange insurance
information. But when McGill got out of his car, the other driver whipped out a
forty-five and gunned him down, then left the scene. The shooter was Benjamin
Cherry, the leader of the Ares Warriors. Sound familiar yet?”

Jesus, yes. And he didn’t like the turn this conversation
was taking. Shane’s mouth dried to sawdust as he concluded with what he knew
about the McGill case.

“Cherry didn’t know McGill’s girlfriend was asleep in the
back seat. The gunfire woke her up. Cherry left a living witness.”

“Which brings us back to Adara Berros.”

Shards of ice encased Shane’s spine as the connection became
crystal clear. “She was the girlfriend?”

“Yup. She didn’t have to testify so her name was kept out of
the papers and court documents. But…”

Shane inhaled sharply. Lou wouldn’t take him down Memory
Lane for a lark. He had a reason for sharing this information. A spider of
unease crawled across Shane’s nape.

“Guess who just got out of prison?” Lou asked.

“What do you mean he just got out? He’s serving fifteen to
life.”

“That hotshot lawyer his father hired got his conviction
thrown out on a technicality. Cherry’s been walking the streets since five
o’clock last night. The D.A. plans to retry the case.”