Bride On the Run

by Leann Harris

  Re-read Leann Harris’s fan-favorite romantic suspense book!

  Detective Lucas McGill never walked away from trouble—except when trouble came in the form of a certain pint-size lady lawyer. Personally, Luke didn’t like J.D. Anderson. But somehow he’d managed to entangle himself in her latest case. J.D. couldn’t figure out why her sworn enemy had suddenly agreed to help track a killer to Las Vegas. Reluctantly posing as an engaged couple, J.D. and Luke murmured endearments through gritted teeth...until the charade took a perilous turn when the wrong people grew suspicious. With their cover about to be blown, J.D. and Luke faced deadly consequences...unless they went to the chapel of love and got married—for real!

  Originally published in 1993

  Bride on the Run

  Leann Harris

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  CHAPTER 1

  Lucas McGill stared out his office window at the shriveled tree in the parking lot below. He resisted the urge to ram his fist through the window and vent his frustration. Stuffing his hands into his back pockets, he glanced over his shoulder at the papers lying on his desk. The ballistics report on the slug they’d gotten out of Marion Glass was inconclusive. In other words, they couldn’t prove the bullet that had killed the wealthy Dallas socialite came from her husband’s gun. But it was as obvious as Rayford Glass’s oily smile that he’d killed his wife.

  Lucas turned and walked back to his desk. Without that piece of evidence, their case against the charming, charismatic Rayford was completely circumstantial. All the man had to do was hire a high-priced lawyer to cast a few doubts in the jury’s mind, and the sleazebag would go free. It was enough to make a good cop want to throw in his badge.

  Needing to get away from his desk, Luke grabbed his coffee mug and left the office. Three steps into the squad room, he heard his nemesis—then saw her.

  “What makes you think something has happened to your friend?” David Sanders, the officer in charge of missing persons, asked her.

  “Because when she talked to me about three hours ago she sounded agitated.”

  David shrugged. “So, lots of people get upset on the phone and then decide not to go through with their plans.”

  The petite blonde carefully placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward, giving Luke a clear view of her enticing backside. Much to his surprise and disgust, a jolt of electricity hit him square in the gut, making his palms itch and his pulse accelerate.

  He cursed under his breath. If there was one thing that really irritated him, it was being attracted to a woman he actively disliked.

  Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the wall in anticipation of what the lady’s response would be. If his past experience with the woman was any indication, his friend was about to discover why the boys down in investigation called her “The Terminator.”

  “Lieutenant, when Gwen called me she said she had information that would shake this state’s government to its core. She was scared and in need of a lawyer. I don’t think she suddenly decided things were all hearts and flowers. I think someone found out what she was up to and stopped her. Now, unless you want it revealed that the woman who uncovered the biggest scandal in state history was reported missing and the Dallas Police Department sat on their hands and did nothing, I suggest you issue a missing persons report on her.”

  Luke grinned. Yup, the lady lawyer was up to form. Ready to tear a man’s leg off and beat him to death with it. He ought to know. He had tangled with her in court on three occasions and had been the winner only once.

  Her knockout good looks, combined with her generous curves and sexy smile, made a man think she was soft, vulnerable, in need of protection. Hah! What a crock that was. She was about as defenseless as a rattlesnake. He clearly remembered the first time he had faced her in court. Since she was the defense lawyer, he’d been wary of her, but she’d smiled and said hello in a voice so low and intimate that he lowered his guard for an instant. Then she sucker-punched him. Her questioning was fierce, hard and smart, and he’d come out looking like an officer who had a score to settle with the defendant. Never mind that it was true. The important thing was the punk was guilty of robbing the liquor store and beating up the manager.

  “Give me the missing woman’s name and address.” David’s request cut through Luke’s wandering thoughts.

  “Gwen Kennedy.”

  “Address.”

  When she didn’t answer, Luke carefully studied her face. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn that she was blushing. Surely not. Arnold Schwarzenegger never blushed.

  “What’s her address?” David asked again.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  She drew herself up to her towering five-foot-one-inch height. “I mean I have no earthly idea where Gwen lives. When I was home last July fourth, I saw her at a party, but we only exchanged hellos. Other than that, I haven’t heard from her since high school, which was close to eighteen years ago.”

  David leaned back in his chair, eyes wide with incredulity. “Do you have any idea what she did for a living?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know if she was married?”

  “No.”

  “Does she have any family in the area that could help?”

  “No. We grew up in Midland. Her father died a few years ago. Her brother left home the year before she graduated, and I don’t think she ever heard from him again.”

  David shook his head. “Do you at least have a picture of her? Can you give us a description?”

  Luke noted with each question how the expression on her beautiful face grew harder and harder. Obviously she knew she had little to go on, but that very fact only emphasized how much she felt the missing woman was in danger. J.D. Anderson was a pain in the butt, but she knew her law and didn’t raise any false alarms.

  Unable to stop himself, Luke crossed the room to David’s desk. “Hello, Ms. Anderson.”

  “Detective McGill.” Although she said his name with cool formality, the timbre of her voice made him think of dark nights, satin sheets and hot bodies. He gritted his teeth. It was one of the things that irritated him the most about J.D. Anderson. Personally, he didn’t like her. Too bad his body did.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Lieutenant Sanders. Where were you supposed to meet Ms. Kennedy?”

  “In the lobby of the World Trade Center about one o’clock.”

  “How long did you wait?”

  “An hour. I have a court case in less than thirty minutes, so I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  He noted the trace of annoyance in her voice. “Were you late for the meeting? Maybe she left before you got there.”

  “I was late by five minutes.”

  The fire in her eyes told him she didn’t appreciate him implying it was her fault she and Gwen failed to connect.

  “Why don’t you give David a description of your friend—”

  “Client.”

  Standing corrected, Luke nodded. “—your client, and we’ll put out a missing person’s bulletin on her.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  Her caustic tone sliced him to the quick. “You’re welcome, Counselor Anderson.”

  Luke strode to the coffee machine while J.D.
gave the description. When David finished taking the report, he joined Luke.

  “Whoa, for such a little thing, she packs a mean punch,” he muttered, grabbing his coffee mug.

  Luke grinned.

  David leaned close. “I heard she eats cops for lunch.”

  Luke’s eyes were drawn to the woman waiting for the elevator. “You don’t know the half of it.” The conservative navy business suit she wore couldn’t disguise her womanly curves. The elevator opened and, with a gentle sway of her hips, she walked inside and turned. Her eyes met his. A spark arced between them and he felt his blood surge. What was the matter with him? he wondered sourly, grinding his teeth. He should be investigating the Glass murder instead of standing here gaping at a woman like a sixteen-year-old.

  * * *

  The headlights of her battered compact fell on the two strips of concrete that served as her driveway. She parked the car before the detached garage in her backyard. Too tired to bother putting her car in the garage, she gathered her purse and briefcase and started toward the house. One of these days she would get around to buying an automatic garage-door opener.

  What a wretched day it had been. Immigration Services had ruled against the Ramos family and the parents were to be deported, leaving their three children, ages three, eighteen months, and four months, with relatives here in the States. Then Gwen had called, desperate and in need of help. A gut feeling told J.D. that something very wrong had happened to her high school friend.

  And then there had been her accidental meeting with Supercop himself, Lucas McGill. His reputation was legendary. Tough. Hard. Nerves of steel. Unshakable when questioned. A royal pain. Just the mention of his name elicited a moan from most attorneys. Nobody wanted to face him in court. The first time she’d questioned him, he’d proved the other lawyers right. He’d been a hard case.

  Lucas McGill was the embodiment of all the male characteristics she disliked. A Neanderthal with a badge. Unfortunately, his whiskey colored eyes sparked something strange inside her.

  “J.D. Whoa, J.D.”

  Hearing the screen on the neighbor’s door slam, she turned to find her friend Sarah Miller running down the steps.

  “I’m so glad you’re home,” Sarah panted as she came to a stop beside J.D.

  “Is something wrong?” The worries of the day disappeared in the face of her friend’s distress.

  “Yes. A notice came in the mail today that the IRS is going to audit us.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Is it?”

  Sarah shrugged and looked down at her sandals. “Everything Larry claimed is true. It’s just that we didn’t keep all the necessary paperwork the government requires.”

  Knowing her neighbor’s husband, she didn’t doubt their predicament. “Sarah, I don’t know a thing about tax law.”

  Sarah’s head snapped up. “No, but you might know a good tax lawyer.”

  “You’re right. I know the best tax lawyer in town. I don’t remember his number. Come on inside and I’ll get it for you.”

  “Let me go turn off my spaghetti sauce. Then I’ll be right over.”

  J.D. unlocked the back door and walked through the kitchen, down the long hall to what once was the living room, now her office. She flicked on the lights, then froze at the sight that greeted her. Her filing cabinets had been ransacked, their contents flung about the room. In stunned disbelief, she walked to her desk. The drawers hung out drunkenly, spilling papers, rubber bands and paper clips onto the floor. Even her mail, which her secretary always placed neatly on the desk, had been ripped open, then tossed aside. Yet, oddly enough, her diamond watch sat in the middle of the chaos.

  Hearing a noise from the corner of the room, she spun around. She didn’t get a clear picture of the man before his fist slammed into her jaw. As the darkness swallowed her, her last thought connected this new disaster with Gwen Kennedy.

  * * *

  As he left the parking garage, Luke turned on his police radio. He was off duty, but it didn’t hurt to know what the guys on the evening shift were handling. Routine things, shootings, domestic disturbances, burglaries. He’d stopped for a light when the call came in for a patrol car and ambulance to go to a familiar Swiss Avenue address.

  J.D. Anderson’s house.

  After the last time he’d tangled with her in court, he called up her address on the police computer and went by just to see, he assured himself, what kind of a house the cold, heartless female lived in. He’d been surprised. The modest two-story frame structure, recently remodeled, didn’t fit his image of the daughter of a wealthy West Texas oilman. The restored mansions farther down the street were more in line with his image of her.

  This time he didn’t drive by, but parked on the opposite side of the street. After showing his badge to the uniformed officer at the front door, he entered the living room. He carefully noted the condition of the room. J.D. sat on the sofa, a paramedic kneeling before her, taking her blood pressure. Another woman hovered at the end of the sofa. He couldn’t remember ever seeing J.D. in such a disheveled condition. Several long blond strands of hair had escaped the bun at the back of her head. The shirttail of her silky-looking blouse hung over the waistband of her expensive suit. She was missing one shoe.

  J.D. looked up and her eyes collided with his.

  A second uniformed cop strode into the room. “Luke, what are you doing here?” He turned to J.D. “You did tell me everything, didn’t you? No one was murdered here?”

  From the fire blazing in her blue eyes, Luke guessed that if the perpetrator was within J.D.’s reach, he really would have a murder on his hands. He’d bet his last five bucks that Counselor Anderson wouldn’t be defending this particular offender.

  “No, Mike, this isn’t an official visit. I saw the squad car, knew the lady and decided to see if I could help.”

  “Well, I’ll be d—” Mike bit down on the word after glancing at his friend.

  Luke stepped closer to the officer. “Don’t read anything into this.”

  “Of course I won’t.” Mike tried to look innocent.

  The paramedic snapped his bag closed. “That’s all I can do for you, miss. I wish you’d let us take you to the hospital to check for a concussion.”

  “The man just hit me in the jaw and knocked me out.”

  “There could be complications.”

  “I seriously doubt there will be any, except maybe a bruise. I’m too hardheaded. Isn’t that right, Detective McGill?”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed on the darkening area of J.D.’s chin. The lady had taken a good wallop and suddenly he wanted to get his hands on the guy who’d hurt her. “Well, if determination has anything to do with it, Ms. Anderson will be fine.”

  As the paramedic gathered up the rest of his gear, Luke pulled Mike aside. “What happened?”

  “Ms. Anderson came in and caught an intruder going through her files.”

  “Did she get a good look at him?”

  “Nope. The only thing she saw clearly was a gloved fist before it punched her out.”

  “Any signs of forced entry?”

  “Yeah. The side window.”

  “Anything missing?”

  “Hard to tell in here. Nothing was touched upstairs.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw J.D. stand, then stagger. Instantly, he shot across the space that separated them and grabbed her arm before she could fall. Her momentum carried her into him. He felt every inch of her incredibly soft body, from her shoulders to her hips. For an instant the rest of the room faded, and his gaze locked with a pair of deep blue eyes.

  She must have felt the same sizzle that burned up his spine. Judging from her expression and sudden jerking away, she didn’t like the sensation any more than he did.

  An awkward silence filled the room. Their little exchange had been witnessed by the two uniformed officers, the paramedic and the other woman.

  Well, if you’re going to make a total fool of yourself, McGill, might as well ha
ve an audience.

  It was obvious that if he wanted to get out of this situation skin-intact and not be fodder for the police grapevine, he was going to have to redirect everyone’s attention. He looked at J.D. “Is this the first time you’ve been robbed?”

  “Oh, no,” the other woman answered, stepping to J.D.’s side. “This is the fourth time. And Larry and I—we live next door—we’ve been burglarized three times. Why, you’d think in this neighborhood of old, respected homes that the police could do a better job of protecting the citizens.”

  “Mike, why don’t you take this lady—” Luke motioned toward the woman “—into the kitchen and take her statement.”

  “Sure, Luke.”

  J.D. slumped down onto the couch. Resting her head on the cushions, she closed her eyes and sighed. Luke walked around the fallen desk chair, resisting the urge to set it upright since the Physical Evidence Squad had not yet arrived, and sat next to J.D.

  She rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes. “What are you doing here? As the patrolman said, nobody was murdered.”

  “I heard the call on my radio, was a block away and decided to come by and see if I could help.”

  “Now, why do I find that hard to believe?”

  “Maybe because you’re suspicious of every move the police make.”

  Never lifting her head from the cushion, she pinned him with a penetrating stare. “Do you know what I think? I think you knew whose house this was and came by to see if I got what you think I deserve.”

  She was partially right. He had known whose house it was, but he couldn’t identify the reason he’d stopped. “As usual, Counselor, your conclusion is incorrect. We’re shorthanded. Any help from a fellow officer is greatly appreciated.”

  She sighed and rubbed her temples. Luke’s eyes were drawn to the massive bruise on her jaw. As ridiculous as it was, he wanted to soothe his fingers over the injury, wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

  What kind of coward would hurt a woman, even a tough-as-nails female like J.D. Anderson? If the man was in the room right now, he’d teach the scum a thing or two about respect.