by Gina Ardito
“I love you.” Since Cassia’s death, he never missed an opportunity to tell his family how important they were to him.
“I love you, too, Shane,” she replied then hung up.
After placing the phone back on the cradle, he raced out of the precinct.
~~~~
When Adara awoke this time, she sensed a presence standing by her bed before she opened her eyes.
Oh, no. Not again.
She couldn’t take anymore of Ted’s simpering adoration. So much sweetness might send her into a diabetic coma.
“Come on, dearie,” a female voice called to her. “Wake up. I know you can do it.”
Her lashes fluttered, and through their filters, she spotted a white uniform top splashed with pink and blue butterflies. Thank God, she thought as she forced her eyelids open, a nurse.
“Welcome back,” the woman said with a wide grin. “It’s just about dinnertime here, and I figured I’d check your vitals before you taste the food. How are you feeling?”
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.”
“Which means Adara might have to testify this time around.”
“Not if she’s dead before the new trial date is scheduled. And oddly enough, the district attorney’s office is missing one key file that somehow got mislaid.”
“Terence McGill’s murder file.”
“Bulls-eye.”
Chapter Eight
Immediately after Shane left Adara’s room, the nurse returned with her water pitcher.
“You know,” she said as she placed it on the tray table, “normally I don’t envy the patients in these rooms. But in your case, I’ll make an exception.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve had only two visitors since they brought you up here, and they’re two of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen. And both of them dote on you.” She winked. “I’d risk a fractured ankle and a few cracked ribs for that kind of attention any day.”
Hot blood rushed into Adara’s cheeks in a flood. “Oh, well, Detective
Griffin is only here to question me. He’s investigating the accident.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. He’s the most dedicated detective on the force. Seems to me he’s not only here to question you, but to bring you dinner, too. Not many cops are so attentive to accident victims.” She gestured toward the untouched half-pita lying on Adara’s plate. “Is that a gyro?”
“Mmm-hmm. Do you want some?”
Her lime green eyes glistened in the semi-gloom of fading twilight. “May I?”
Adara handed it to her. “Help yourself.”
The nurse took the sandwich and bit into it with a graceful, fluid motion. A look of pure rapture filled her features. “Mmmmmmmm. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve tasted one of these?”
“Ambrosia, isn’t it?”
The nurse snorted. “I wish.”
An odd statement, but like she’d done so often in the last twelve hours, Adara let it slide without question. Instead she poured herself a cup of water and sipped at the liquid while wondering how long it would be before Detective Griffin returned.
She’d only seen him three times now, but his presence never failed to calm her. Knowing he stood guard gave her a sense of peace at a time when everything in her life had turned upside-down.
Maybe his placid influence had something to do with his name. “Griffin.” The protectors of precious treasure. Not that she thought of herself in those terms, but if griffins watched over priceless articles, then this Detective Griffin could certainly watch over her with satisfactory results. At least he managed to keep Ted at bay. The very thought of her “fiancé” from Cyprus made her frown.
Contrasting with Detective Griffin’s calm nature, Ted’s presence set her nerves teetering on the brink of a precipice. His cool insistence about their eventual marriage itched at her logical mind. Thus far, he’d done nothing to urge that itch into a full-blown outbreak of fear. So she humored him. As foolish as it might seem to anyone else, she truly believed he was harmless. A little psychotic maybe, but harmless.
“Thanks for the gyro,” the nurse said, shaking Adara out of her mental comparisons. “I’ll be back in a little while with something to help you sleep.”