The Nightlife San Antonio: (Urban Fantasy Romance) (The Nightlife Series) (23 page)

It started with the sweats. He drank cup after cup of water, and sweated it out as fast as he could take it in. Then came the pounding migraine headache
, in addition to the killer backache he had going from the bullet to his vest. They gave him two aspirin. Two. That didn’t even start to take the edge off his misery.

He tried to get some sleep, but the place was just s
o damned hot. The bed pad atop a concrete slab had probably been made before he was born – thing had lumps in all the wrong places. He couldn’t get any rest when he closed his eyes because there was no way to shut off the overhead light.

A
ll he could think about was her. Would she make it? Would she end up imprisoned for life? And the sun, how would they know to keep her out of the sun? As soon as they figured out the truth, she’d disappear into the bowels of federal confinement, a new top secret research project. All the scenarios he envisioned led to a horribly dark place, a world without Samantha.

She’d come into his life and sh
own him what it meant to care about someone other than himself. She had forced him to face himself, his own personal demons. She had brought him liberty, the freedom to accept who he was, and she accepted him as he was, without trying to change him.

But it was all
gone now. His future without Samantha drew out before him, a massive chasm of black, colorless life. He needed that woman like the air in his lungs, like the water he drank to keep from dehydrating, like nothing he’d ever needed before.

She was the most amazing creature on the planet, and he’d probably never see her again.

There were no more tears left to cry. He wrapped his towel around his head, and finally surrendered to some badly needed sleep.

* * * *

The attorney tapped the clicker on his pen on the steel desk opposite a reinforced glass window. “From what I can see, they’ve only charged you with assaulting an officer. They’re still investigating this whole warehouse massacre mess. You’re not off the hook, not by any means, but, they haven’t charged you with anything else. Yet.”

Adrian nodded. There was nothing to be said. Court appointed attorneys were not people to trust with your life, not when the potenti
al for a murder case loomed on the horizon.

“Care
to tell me what happened?”

Adrian had thought about what to say, b
ut the whole deal was so fucking insane, there was nothing he could say that would keep him out of trouble. Better to just keep his mouth shut and see what kind of shit they threw at him.

“I was angry, so I hit the officer.” Adrian smirked when the attorney shook his head.

“I’m not talking about that. What the hell happened in that warehouse? Why were you there in the first place?”

Adrian flipped it back on him. “Why were the feds there? Who called them in?”

The attorney eyed him as if he was going to say something, then he paused and looked through a stack of papers. “Apparently they had been keeping tabs on Detective Juan Coronado for some time. Coronado’s
questionable
connections with local Mexican Mafia were a cause for suspicion. There’s something in the file about a phone wiretap, but the phone records haven’t been provided.”

The attorney shuffled through more pape
rs. “Agent Roberts reports that after several suspicious calls from Coronado’s cell phone, he left his home in a hurry and went straight to the warehouse. The feds followed him.”

Cops watching cops. Probably even better job security than
chasing Mexican Mafia. It all started making sense now. Coronado probably sent the Black Hands to Adrian’s apartment complex to get information. The corrupt bastard had created this whole mess.

Adrian shook his head. “
So, they have some dead gang members, one dirty cop, and me. Doesn’t sound like a very good case to prosecute, especially since I don’t have any prior criminal history.”

“Well, there is that, but it’s also not easy to prove Coronado was dirty. They have you, and 1.4 million citizens of San Antonio who are clamoring for justice for this massacre.
The way some of those men died was particularly gruesome. Words like ‘mutilation’ and ‘aggravated murder’ are being tossed around in the media. This is ugly Mr. Faulkner, very ugly. You may not be charged officially, but you’re definitely not off the hook. Count on that.”

“
When
they charge me with something, I’ll talk to
my
attorney. All I need from you is to file some papers or whatever, and get me the hell out of this shithole.”

The attorney stared at him, trying to
play the intimidation game. With the drum pounding away inside Adrian’s head, the only thing the attorney had succeeded in doing was pissing Adrian off.

Where’s a good tire iron when you need one?

After a moment’s consideration, the attorney adopted his best fake smile and slapped his hand on the steel counter. “Well, if that’s it, then we’re going for a bail bond. We’ll be in front of the judge in a few minutes, and unless the prosecutor has a new charge which I haven’t seen, we’ll probably get the bond.”

Adrian nodded. “Good.” The sooner the better. He had a date
with a bottle of Tylenol-3-codeine, a scorching hot shower, and then he was headed straight to the Baptist Medical Center to see Samantha. He’d already called Johnson, the hospital administrator, a salty old ex-military man. Johnson seemed like a decent guy, even though he’d written up Adrian several times in the past two years. The old man had come through on this one, gave Adrian a leave of absence. His job was on standby, if he could ever manage to get his shit together.

* * * *

“Adrian, you can’t sleep here, visiting hours are over.” He had crashed in the chair next to Samantha’s bed, so tired he could hardly think. Or maybe it was that third dose of Tylenol-3 that had bowled him over. He was toast. Peering through one open eye he recognized the nurse, Julie, and shooed her off so he could go back to sleep.

“Adrian, you heard the nu
rse. Besides, you shouldn’t even be here. She’s under arrest.” Agent Roberts eyed Adrian with a lame attempt at being intimidating.

Adrian rolled over and pulled t
he blanket up over his shoulder. He didn’t bother looking at the agent as he spoke. “She’s lucky to be alive. She was almost killed, twice over. Why don’t you do your job and go find some of those mafia assassins. Let the woman have some peace.”
Let us both have some peace.

“S
ave it for tomorrow. It’s time to go.” Agent Roberts tugged on the end of Adrian’s blanket.

He glared at
the agent whose swollen red schnoz was covered in white tape.
Wouldn’t take much to re-break that nose
. The thought was tempting. The jail cell had taught him to keep his hands off Federal Agents, but these people didn’t understand that they’re only safe as long as they stay in their little cliques. Go roaming too far afield in the darkness one of these nights, and you just might find a tire iron wrapped around your skull.

Agent Roberts
stepped back out of Adrian’s reach. “It’s midnight. She’ll be here tomorrow morning. Same as yesterday, and the day before that.”

Adrian
sighed in resignation and sat up yawning. Going on fifty plus hours since the shooting, and she still hadn’t woken up. Adrian could hardly stand to leave the room or let Samantha out of his sight, but they weren’t giving him a choice.

“We’re going to find out what happened, Adrian. If you talk now it’ll go a lot better than trying to explain things later,
after we already figured it out. If you’re the guy who can bring truth and justice to this mess, the court will look on that with favor. Be smart, Adrian.”

Adrian glared at the man, envisioning his nose turned into a pancake. The thought gave him just enough serenity to smile at the prick. “When you decide you figured something out, you’ll be talking to my attorney.
I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be talking to me without my attorney present.”

Adrian
leaned over Sam, touched her hand in a light caress and kissed her cheek. “Remember Samantha, I choose you, too.”

As he shuffled towards
the door he could’ve swore he heard a couple extra beeps on her heart monitor, but she didn’t move. He stood watching her for a minute, but he figured he must have imagined it.

* * * *

Adrian’s apartment had been the scene of a Federal Agent slash fest that could rival a Guns & Roses hotel room the morning after. Damn cops had a fucking house party with all his shit. Like he owned anything that would be of any value to their investigation? He filled up several trash bags with all the stuff they had ruined in their frenzy to dig through his belongings. The food in his fridge got tossed as well, mostly old takeout. The only thing in the fridge of any value was the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon he hadn’t opened yet, something cheap from the Dollar General store.

He cracked
open the screw-top bottle and drank straight from the neck. The wine was so cheap it didn’t even have a cork. Somebody once told him not to drink red wine that was too cold, but he never cared. It tasted horrible at room temperature. He killed off the bottle of red way before it ever started to warm up.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he reached for it without a care for who it might be. “Yeah.”

“Adrian, oh god, why didn’t you call us? It’s been all over the news. They said there were shootings, and you were there, and the media’s been knocking on our door asking questions about your past. They camped in front of our home all day yesterday, and I didn’t know what to tell them.” His mother sounded like she was both relieved, and in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

“You didn’t tell them I played soccer
, did you? I was never very good.” He tried to diffuse her distress, but didn’t have the patience for it. She was always worried about something, and he’d become desensitized to her fears years ago as a teenager.

“Adrian! This is serious. All those people died!”

“Mom, do you have any idea how many soldiers died while I was in Iraq? Hundreds, mother. Hundreds. You know how many Arabs died? Thousands. A few dead gangbangers is nothing more than breaking news for the week in Texas. Some more gangbangers will get shot up next week, and they’ll forget all about me. Please stop worrying. It’s under control. If there’s a problem I’ll get an attorney.” For the moment, all he wanted was to get off the phone so he could make a trip to the Dollar General for more cheap red wine.

She shushed h
im, and started crying. It always irritated him when she cried. Her tears were her default mechanism, the way she always dealt with his decisions that she didn’t agree with. “Mom, I’m fine. Really. It’s okay.”

“Will you come see us? Please. You haven’t visited in over three months, not since your birthday.”

Shit. He wasn’t going to escape this one. The Dollar General would have to wait. “Yeah, Mom. I’ll be there in a few.”

He checked the time. It was already five o-clock,
sunset in an hour or so, and he had planned to go see Samantha again. Technically visiting hours were over at eight, but he’d bullied his way into staying longer the past two nights. That probably wasn’t going to fly tonight, not if he was trying to get in the door at nine or ten. Shit.

He changed into
slacks and a polo shirt and headed out the door.

* * * *

Julie grabbed Adrian’s arm as he walked past, headed for Samantha’s room. “Adrian, it’s too late, you can’t go in there. The police have made it clear, no visitors past eight.” The Agent in front of the door eyed Adrian with unease. Clearly, Adrian’s reputation had become legendary with the San Antonio Feds.

Adrian wanted to go off
on Julie and the officer, but that probably wouldn’t get him in to see Samantha. He went for the guilt tactic instead. “Has there been any change in her condition?”

Julie’s
eyes softened and she shook her head. “No, but she’s stable. That’s good. Doctor Grayson thinks she’s doing quite well, all things considered, but she hasn’t woken up yet.”

Adrian cursed low and resigned himself to waiting until tomorrow evening.
Looking Julie in the eyes, he wanted to tell her she didn’t know what it was like, she had no idea how he felt, how much he needed this woman to wake up. How he needed to be in the same room with Samantha at all times. It was pointless.

Julie
must have seen something in his face, because she took his arm and leaned in close to whisper, “I understand how you feel. It’s difficult seeing someone you love in this condition. But you know the rumors, she’s like a mafia queen or something, and maybe … maybe this situation is better for her … legally.”