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The phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Zach. It had to be Zach. No one else knew she was here. She picked up the receiver and forced her voice to remain calm. “Hello?”
“Adria,” a female voice cooed. “So you are here.”
Her heart somersaulted as she recognized Trisha’s voice.
“Zach wouldn’t tell anyone where you were, but I took a stab in the dark and though the desk is downright rude about letting me know your room number, they did deign to put me through.” She sounded irritated.
“What do you want?” she asked, wondering if she really could be related to this woman.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Now?”
“You have better plans?” Without waiting for an answer, Trisha said, “I’m in the parking garage now. I could meet you in the bar in five minutes, or…if you’d rather go somewhere else….”
“The bar’s fine,” Adria said. “I’ll see you there.” So much for being safe, she thought, but really didn’t care who knew where she was. She was tired of looking over her shoulder and jumping at shadows. Maybe it was time to flush out the culprit who had jumped her and in so doing, find out exactly what happened nearly twenty years ago. She ran a brush through her hair, slipped a jacket over her jeans and blouse, and locked the door behind her.
She nearly stumbled over the security guard, a beefy, red-haired man with a pockmarked face, posted in the hallway. “Mr. Danvers requested that I stay here,” he said, almost apologetically. “You going out?”
“Just for a little while.”
“Where to?”
“Just downstairs,” she said, disliking the man for intruding into her privacy, though she knew he was only doing his job. She had only to recall her recent attack to remind herself to be on her guard. Trisha, who seemed harmless, might be more dangerous than she appeared. Adria hurried into the elevator, tapped her fingernails nervously on the rail as the car descended, and bolted through the doors as they opened silently.
Zach was waiting for her.
Lounging against a post, propped up by one denim-covered shoulder, arms crossed over his chest, he stood, staring at the elevator, like a cougar waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. “Goin’ somewhere?” he drawled and a slow, sexy smile curved across his jaw.
A nest of butterflies erupted in her stomach.
“No, I—” she stammered, then held her tongue. “Have you been down here the whole time, waiting for me to try and escape?”
The smile disappeared. His eyes flashed angrily. “You’re giving yourself too much credit. Way too much.”
“Then don’t get in my way,” she warned, trying to brush past him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the bar.”
“Thirsty?”
“Is there any particular reason you’re being a jerk, or is it just your nature?”
“Ouch.”
“You asked for it. Now, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m meeting your sister.”
“Trisha’s here?” he asked, throwing a dark look toward the glass doors of the bar.
“Waiting. So if you’ll excuse me.”
He didn’t. Instead he strode ahead of her. He threw open the door and scanned the room with eyes set into a hard-as-nails expression. His dark gaze landed squarely on his sister, who was sitting in a corner booth, holding a stemmed glass of clear liquid in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other. With Adria at his heels, he crossed the patterned carpet. “What the hell’s going on here?” he demanded, his lips barely moving.
“Just thought I’d have a drink with my…our sister.” Trisha tapped the ash from her cigarette. “Join us?”
Adria’s breath seemed to stop.
