Adam (7 page)

“You do not.”

“What? Sing in the shower?”

“No, live on pizza.” Her lips curled in a smile. “You’re too fit for that diet to work at your age.”

“Are you calling me old?”

“No, merely pointing out that an established metabolism for your body type requires more nutrients than simple dough, cheese, and sauce could give.”

“Well, I do pile it with protein and veggies too.”

Laughter bubbled forth as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, that makes all the differen—Eek!” She couldn’t help a yell of surprise as he swerved her car, cutting across a lane of traffic and darting down a side street. “What the hell!”

“I thought someone might be tailing us,” he replied, not glancing at her. His eyes were trained on the rearview mirror.

She couldn’t help but crane to peer behind them. “Did you lose them? Are we being followed?”

“They didn’t follow. False alarm.”

Suspicious, she stared at him. “Did you seriously think someone followed, or were you just doing that for fun?”

“Would I do something like that?” So innocently said.

“I think you would.”

“See, you know me so well already. I told you we weren’t strangers. So, Doc, now that I’ve spilled my guts, what’s your story? Or is this going to be a one-sided friendship?”

Given his attempt to make things between them easier, and her genuine enjoyment in his flirtatious demeanor, she couldn’t resist his charm. “My name is Laura. I am twenty-nine years old, a Scorpio. I like to read. Work. And I also live on pizza.”

The admission had him swerving again. “Bullshit. Um. That is, I mean no way.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you’re a doctor. Aren’t your type all about the healthy eating?”

A roll of her eyes and a snort let him know what she thought about his assumption. “Have you seen the hours I work? I tend to forget to do groceries, and when I do actually buy some, I forget to eat them. I’ve thrown out numerous science experiments dug out from an abused fridge. Enough that I no longer keep much in it. Since delivery is my friend, and my hours are whacky, my choices usually involve hitting a fast food drive-thru, ordering in pizza or Chinese. Pizza usually wins because I can eat it cold on the way in to work if I don’t have time to grab breakfast.”

“So does this mean I shouldn’t expect you to put on pearls and heels and cook me a nice meal when we get to your place?”

“I don’t wear heels because they hurt my feet.” And the last time she twisted an ankle. “The only pearls I’ve ever had were the bath kind that melt, and as for me cooking? Only if you have a death wish.”

His boisterous laughter filled her car. “Fair enough. We’ll order in.”

Ice broken, they chatted about their favorite restaurants around the city. They finished the drive without further incident. As she guided him into the underground parking garage situated beneath her condo complex, his jovial manner migrated to serious, as, once again, he scrutinized the darkness and the shadowy space between parked vehicles.

“What’s up with the lack of lighting?” he asked.

“We’ve had problems lately with vagrants sneaking in and smashing the bulbs. Management keeps saying they’ll do something about it, but they haven’t yet. Something about the budget and needing enough votes from the residents.”

“It’s a safety issue. How can a matter like that even be up for debate?”

“Nowadays, every decision, even the most basic ones, seems to require a committee. Lucky for me, my spot isn’t far from the elevators.”

Exiting the car, she hadn’t taken a step when Adam loomed by her side. He gripped her upper arm and strode quickly to the elevator.

“What’s the rush?”

“We’re not alone,” he muttered in a low breath.

The words sent a chill down her spine, and she tucked in closer to him. Surely no one would think to accost them. He was friggin’ soldier. One carrying a sidearm, which remained holstered at his side in spite of his belief they might have company.

Before she could ask him why he didn’t have it in hand, from behind a fat concrete pillar, a trio of thugs stepped. Heads shaved, pants slouched low and bunched over combat boots, they appeared a motley bunch.

Unlike her armed escort, they had their weapons out. A switchblade, a metal rod, and a small pistol. A triple ouch.

“Hand over your purse and wallet, and we’ll be on our way,” the ringleader said, smacking the metal bar against his empty palm, a meaty-sounding threat that brought forth a tremble. She fumbled the strap to her purse off her shoulder, ready to comply.

With muggers, it was sometimes just easier to give in to their wishes. Her purse and its contents could be replaced. Broken bones would take longer to heal, and scars would last forever.

However, apparently her companion didn’t share the same philosophy. “I don’t think so,” Adam replied.

Big surprise, the answer didn’t go over well.

“A hero?” sneered the one with the gun. The muzzle angled upward until it leveled out at face height. “Let’s see how brave you are when you’re eating a bullet, army dude.”

Laura froze, fright paralyzing her limbs.

Not so Adam. He moved so that he stood in front of her, his body a barrier between her and the menace. As a gesture, it was nice, but in practicality, he was neither knife-, bullet-or skull-smashing-rod-proof. “I’m going to give you the best advice you’re ever going to get. Leave now, or I will make you hurt.” Inflammatory words to a gang obviously used to getting their way.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “Just give him your stuff.”

“Why would I do that?” An incredulous note tinged his words. “These miscreants don’t frighten me. They chose the wrong person to accost.”

With that overly confident statement, the situation erupted.

And it was Adam who started it.

One second, he stood before Laura, a human shield. A blink of her eyes later, and he’d twisted into action. Not one to watch adventure movies, or even sports, Laura couldn’t help but gasp, and wince, as Adam displayed his military training.

Surely it wasn’t natural for a leg to rotate so high and for a foot to connect so solidly? The impact of Adam’s boot to the guy’s jaw knocked the one toting the gun to the cement floor, the weapon flying from his hand and skittering off into the shadows.

In a blur of motion, which had a fascinating grace even given the violence, Adam managed to duck the swing of the heavy metal rod, which surely saved him from a crushed skull whilst, at the same time, lunging with one hand and grasping the wrist of the knife wielder.

The timing was impeccable. Impossible she would have said, and yet she watched it with her own eyes.

Adam must have applied intense pressure to the wrist he’d snatched because, with a cry of pain, the guy let the blade clatter to the ground. It proved a less ominous sound than the crack that preceded the shrill shriek of the knife man. Hugging his arm to his chest, that attacker staggered away from Adam. Turning on a heel, he fled, leaving only one conscious thug.

The remaining mugger loomed larger than the other pair, and he showed no sign of backing off. Lips pulled back in a sneer, he taunted Adam, displaying a valid reason for the war against drugs because surely only a mind frazzled by abuse could think at this point he had even a slim chance of winning. “You’ll pay for that. I’m going to mess up that pretty-boy face of yours until even your mama doesn’t recognize you.”

“You can try, but it’s not going to happen. As a matter of fact, I’ll guarantee, by the time we’re done here, you’ll wish you’d stayed home and watched re-runs.”

The fist Adam threw practically blurred, but the impact was visible. With a thud of flesh hitting flesh, it connected, and blood gushed from the mugger’s split lip.

With a bellow of rage, the guy retaliated. The metal rod swung, wildly, the air swooshing with each pass. Adam danced on his feet, keeping just out of reach. But he didn’t keep quiet.

“Missed me.”
Whoosh
. “Missed me again.”
Whistle
. “Come on, can you put a little effort into it?” The wild swings continued to fail as Adam taunted his assailant.

A motion from the corner of her eye caught Laura’s attention, and she turned her head to see the gunman shaking off his dizziness. More worrisome, while the fight distracted them, he’d managed to retrieve his weapon and aimed it with a wavering hand.

She yelled his name in warning. “Adam!”

Several things happened at once.

With uncanny speed, Adam knocked her to the side, sending her into a parked car and jostling her glasses loose. As she turned around, even with her blurry vision, she could see Adam dash towards the gunman, propelling the big mugger ahead of him.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” the gunman threatened.

Adam didn’t stop. Instead, he hoisted the guy with the rod and tossed him just as the gun fired. Airborne, the big guy flew into the pistol holder, and they both went down in a heap of flailing limbs, but only for a second before Adam hauled the pair up with astonishing strength. Gripping them by their necks, he knocked their heads together before dropping them again, unconscious.

Silence ensued as Laura blinked and tried to make sense of the insanity, which, at most, probably lasted only a few minutes.

What to say. What to do. She truly didn’t know how a person should act in a situation like this.

The same paralysis didn’t affect Adam. He bent down to grab the mugger’s gun and tucked it in his waistband. “We shouldn’t leave this lying around,” he said as she gaped at him. “I wouldn’t want any kids to get their hands on it. Are you all right? You didn’t get injured in the scuffle?”

His concern for her was sweet, but she wasn’t the one who’d thrown herself in harm’s way. “I’m fine. The question is, are you all right?” she asked. At such close range, she found it hard to believe the shot fired had missed. Vision fuzzy without her lenses, she squinted but couldn’t discern any damage.

“Fine. Just fine. Nothing a little bandage won’t fix. Where are your glasses?”

Good question. As she stepped back so she could peer at her feet, she heard a crunch. “I think I found them.”

“I don’t think they’re gonna work so well anymore,” he said with a rueful smile as he crouched to pick up the lopsided frames with a missing lens.

Given this happened to her more than she liked to admit, she always kept spares. “I’ve got another pair in my condo.”

“What do you say we get out of here then and go find them?”

“But what about those guys?” She gestured to the muggers, out cold on the floor. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”

“And spend the next few hours at a precinct answering questions? Gee, that sounds like fun.” He grimaced. “Let’s not forget that involving the cops means you’ll then have to go back a few more times to answer more questions, maybe even attend a trial. For what? So they can give these fellows a year or less for attempted robbery? Do you really want to waste your evening doing that?”

When he put it that way… “But shouldn’t we do something to get them off the street?”

“Let’s be honest here. Given our justice system, these guys will be back out on the street within twenty-four hours, forty-eight tops. Until someone takes care of them permanently, or they kill someone, I’m afraid society is going to have to put up with them.”

“That seems rather harsh,” she said with a frown as he ushered her into the elevator. Her hand shook as she inserted her access card into the slot. He placed his steady hand over hers and helped her. The doors dinged as they shut, and the elevator lurched into motion.

“I’m surprised you have such sympathy for dregs of society who wouldn’t have thought twice about hurting us, and for what? A few dollars, maybe a credit card?”

“So your solution would be to kill them. Without mercy or a trial.”

“Yes. What would you do?”

“Give them a chance to redeem themselves. To show them another way, a way that doesn’t involve violence and give them a chance to change their lives.”

He snorted. “An optimistic view. Let me ask you though, what would you do if they don’t change? What then? Incarcerate them for life? Make the taxpayers foot the bill? Let them loose to continually reoffend and escalate their crimes.”

“I don’t know. Maybe this makes me a softie, but I think that even the most maligned deserve a second chance.”

“Monsters should be killed.” He didn’t wait for her reply as the elevator door opened and he stepped out.

Given the seriousness of the discussion and their disparity in agreement, she kept silent. In this case, he was probably right. Those thugs weren’t the type to easily change their path in life. But she couldn’t help remembering another time, and another man, a man who died without trial or a chance for redemption.

Adam stopped without being told before her door. With her nerves more under control, she slid her access card into the slot the first time. With a click, the lock disengaged, but she wasn’t allowed to enter.

Inserting himself between her and the door, Adam murmured. “I need to go in first and check for company. Since the hall seems clear, stay here. Only come inside if you see someone coming. Otherwise wait for my all clear.”