Bride On the Run

by Leann Harris

  “We pray there’s an exit down this hall.”

  She motioned for him to proceed. “If there isn’t, McGill, I have no intention of walking back up those stairs. I’m going straight through the lobby, come hell or Allen.”

  “If there isn’t an exit, I’ll be happy to escort you through hell.”

  “You’ve already done that,” she mumbled as he pushed past her into the hall.

  He couldn’t help the grin. He liked her sassy and was thankful her spunk had returned. A few feet from the stairs was a hall that led to the pool area. He gave her the thumbs-up signal. “I told you.”

  The hot outside air hit them like a blast from a furnace. The pool area, bathed in red and gold from the setting sun, was crowded with bikini-clad woman and men. Luke and J.D. drew a few curious looks, but most people ignored them.

  They picked their way through the dozens of cars in the parking lot to the front of the building. Luke hailed a cab and immediately a taxi stopped before them. As they climbed into the back seat, Luke searched the hotel entrance to make sure they hadn’t been seen. He didn’t spot anyone, but as they pulled away from the hotel, his sixth sense told him they hadn’t made a clean getaway.

  * * *

  Luke turned his back to the newsstand where J.D. was buying some candy and scanned the terminal building, searching.

  “What are you looking for, McGill?” J.D. asked, throwing the change and mints into her purse.

  “What makes you think I’m looking for anything?”

  She sighed. “Isn’t it a little late to start fibbing to me? I thought we’d passed that stage.”

  A shiver slid down Luke’s back. It was spooky how she could read him. Normally, people complained that he had a poker face that gave nothing away. With J.D. it was like he was an open book she easily read.

  “I was just making sure we weren’t followed.”

  A frown crossed her brow. “Do you think we were?”

  He pulled her toward their gate. He didn’t want to miss this flight. “I have no evidence that we were.”

  “But—”

  Luke clamped his teeth around the curse on the tip of his tongue. The woman had picked up on his ambivalence. Ten to one no one else on earth would have. “The back of my neck itches.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “What?”

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders and urged her forward. “I think someone saw us leave the hotel. I have no proof, but when something’s not right, the back of my neck itches. The only reason I can come up with is that we had a witness to our departure.”

  He expected her to make some less-than-flattering comment about his feeling. Instead, she looked up at him with grave eyes.

  “For once, McGill, I hope you’re wrong.”

  He hoped so, too.

  * * *

  “Would you like a cocktail?” the flight attendant asked Luke.

  Boy, would he, but he couldn’t afford to have alcohol dull his senses until he had J.D. safely tucked away in her house. “Just some coffee.”

  “And you, ma’am?”

  “Anything with caffeine in it,” J.D. answered.

  “Hot or cold?” the stewardess asked.

  “Cold.” J.D. rummaged through her purse and pulled out the mints she’d bought at the airport. She offered him one.

  He shook his head. It was quite a blow to his manly pride having J.D. pay their cab fare and for plane tickets. It didn’t matter that he had been caught unawares by this little side trip to Vegas. Why, if he had known he was going to get married this morning when he got up, he would’ve gone by the money machine and withdrawn some cash.

  Married.

  The word went off in his brain like a forty-pound mortar shell.

  Married. And whom had he vowed to love and cherish? J.D. Anderson. Defense lawyer, the Terminator, a bona fide liberal and the most aggravating female ever created. But, he had to admit, she was also gorgeous, with a figure that made most men drool, and waist-length hair that fed unbelievable fantasies.

  And you’re really fantasizing if you think she’ll let you within arm’s reach. And yet, each time he’d kissed her, she’d kissed him back with an intensity that made his blood race.

  A satisfied grin lifted the corners of his mouth. Who would’ve ever believed that he, Lucas McGill, Dallas homicide detective, could fire the good counselor’s passions? Certainly no one on the Dallas police force.

  And it would stay that way.

  “What are you grinning about, McGill?” she asked, finishing the last of her mints. One thing he could say about chocolate, it made J.D. more agreeable.

  “It’s been a monumental day.”

  She looked at him. The expression on her beautiful face said that he had to be kidding. Suddenly, she started laughing. “McGill, it’s been a day straight out of hell. And we’ve been keeping company with the devil.”

  “Oh, so you don’t consider me the devil anymore?”

  “I never considered you one. Stubborn, irritating, a royal pain for my clients, but I can say this about you, McGill—you’re honest. Honest in your likes, dislikes, your dealings with people. You’re nothing like my ex-husband.”

  “And what’s he like?”

  “Slime.”

  He wanted to question her further. What had that exchange between her and Allen about gambling away rent money meant? Why had she asked about Allen continuing law school? What was behind the venom Luke felt between the two of them? Judging from the stony look on her face, he wasn’t going to have his questions answered today.

  Maybe that was better. He didn’t need to know any more about J.D than he already knew, because that would mean he might start to care about her, and he didn’t want that.

  Still, he couldn’t deny he’d like to consummate their wedding vows. Quit thinking with your hormones, McGill, and start thinking with your brain.

  Good, solid advice. Too bad his body wasn’t following through on it.

  Staring out the window into the stormy night, Luke’s mind replayed their escape. He was almost sure they’d been observed, but he couldn’t pinpoint the reason he felt that way.

  Something else was bothering him. He stole a glance at J.D., who was flipping through the airline magazine. For an instant on the stairs, she had frozen up. He’d seen the moment of panic in her eyes. She’d recovered quickly, but her reaction had surprised him.

  “Mind if I ask a question?”

  She raised her chin, and her blue eyes were as warm as an iceberg. “What?”

  “Why did you balk at walking down those stairs at the hotel?”

  The chill melted from her face. “Oh, that. You noticed, did you?”

  “Remember, I’m the trained detective. I pick up on these subtle things.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Sometimes, Luke, the level of subtlety needed with you is a baseball bat to the side of your head.”

  “Which, no doubt, you would be willing to wield.”

  She gave him a pleased smile.

  “We’re drifting away from the question, Counselor.”

  She shrugged. “I tried.”

  He said nothing, but waited for her to collect her thoughts.

  “It’s not a very dramatic story. I hate concrete stairwells. The chill in them, the empty echoes, remind me of the fallout shelter my father built in the mid-fifties.”

  Mid-fifties? Why, she would’ve been only—

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. When the big nuclear scare happened in the fifties, I was a baby, but my mother insisted my father build a fallout shelter. Eventually we used it during tornado season. Mother was deathly afraid of storms. Every time a big storm moved through Midland, she would make us go to the shelter.”

  With her fingers, J.D. demolished the corner of the magazine. “One day a bad storm came up quickly and we took cover in the shelter. A tornado came through and destroyed part of our house. But it also uprooted a tree and jammed it up against the shelt
er door. Dad had been out in the fields checking on a drilling crew and it was hours before he could get home and free us.” She was silent for a long time. “Mother didn’t handle it well.”

  It was more what she didn’t say that let Luke know that J.D.’s mother must have cried, screamed and pounded on the door until she couldn’t speak. Something just like that had happened in his small hometown in Northwest Texas.

  Her head slumped back against the seat. “Ouch,” she grumbled, her fingers flying to the back of her head. Much to his disappointment, she had put her hair back into a bun, securing it with her large barrette. It seemed the lady lawyer objected to going around with her hair streaming down her back.

  He pushed her hands away and removed the offending hair ornament. His fingers brushed against the muscles at the back of her neck. They were strung so tight, he was surprised she wasn’t complaining of a headache. Automatically, he began to massage the tension away.

  She sighed. The soft, breathy sound combined with the luxuriant feel of her hair in his hands made his heart pound.

  “Oh, you’re good.”

  He nearly jumped out of his skin. He could imagine her saying that to him in a much different setting.

  “After that,” she said in a detached voice, “I refused to go to the shelter.”

  And probably had no end of grief because of it. “Yeah, I know how you feel. My grandparents lived just across the border in New Mexico. When there were bad storms, Granny made us all get in the vegetable cellar. Nothing like spending the night between burlap bags of onions and potatoes.”

  That brought a spark of life to her eyes.

  “So you’re a farm boy?” Her gaze roved over him as if seeing him for the first time.

  “Yeah, but I always wanted to be a cop. My dad knew I wasn’t a farmer and encouraged me to go into law enforcement. When I graduated from high school, I came to Dallas and enrolled in the academy.”

  “You spent most of your life as a policeman.”

  “Twenty-two years.” He was proud of the years, proud of the work he’d done. It showed in his voice, and he knew it.

  “Did you meet your wife in Dallas?”

  Where had that question come from? He’d just been trying to comfort her and suddenly he felt like he was on the witness stand. Before he could answer, the plane dropped sharply. He felt as if he’d left his stomach several hundred feet above them.

  The pilot immediately came on the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, there is a large, violent storm system in front of us. Air traffic control has routed us around it. That means we’ll arrive in Dallas forty minutes late. I hope this won’t inconvenience any of you.”

  Luke welcomed the distraction. He didn’t want to talk about his ex-wife, Kay. And especially not to J.D.

  “I hope you don’t have any hot dates tonight, McGill, because you’re not going to make it in time if you do.”

  Luke breathed a sigh of relief. Either J.D. had forgotten she’d asked about his wife or she’d decided not to pursue the subject. Somehow he knew it was the latter. Well, he’d go along with the lady. “I’m lucky. I have nothing planned. Besides, it might be kind of hard to explain my brand-new wife to a girlfriend. That sort of news tends to take the romance out of the evening.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Allen never had much trouble doing it.” J.D. wanted to snatch the words back as soon as they were out of her mouth.

  Luke met her eyes, and silently they made a deal. No discussion of ex-mates. He wouldn’t ask about Allen. She wouldn’t ask about his wife.

  “Since we have some extra time, let’s see if we can piece together what we know so far in this investigation,” Luke said, pulling his notepad from the inside pocket of his jacket.

  “Okay.”

  “Gwen’s murdered, presumably to stop her from revealing the blackmail scheme she has been involved with. Her ex-fiancé, Hal Weston, is a major player in this nasty little drama. He and Gwen have recently broken up. The parting wasn’t peaceful, according to Hal’s partner.”

  “Gail’s also mixed up in the dirty dealing,” J.D. added. “She’s had someone taking pictures—and probably videos—of her amorous adventures.”

  “From his appearance in Vegas, Allen is the obvious choice of an accomplice.” The muscles of Luke’s face tensed, emphasizing his jutting cheekbones. The corners of his mouth turned down and the brackets on each side of his lips seemed deeper.

  He had an unbelievably sensuous mouth. Great to look at, even better to kiss.

  “J.D.?”

  His voice stopped her mental inventory. “What?”

  “Do you have any opinions on my supposition about Allen?”

  “I think you’re right. Allen would do anything, sell anything, be anything if it brought him money or furthered his career.”

  “And you married him?”

  “Meaning what, McGill?”

  “Meaning that for a woman as sharp and bright as you, I can’t ever imagine you getting involved with someone like him.”

  She should’ve been angry with him for his insightful analysis of the major error of her life. Instead, what she heard was admiration for the woman she was now. “We’re all entitled to one mistake in our lifetime. I just happened to make mine on a grander scale than most people.”

  He leaned close and whispered, “Do you do everything on a grander scale?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know. Now, let’s get back to Gwen’s murder.”

  They sorted through each thing they knew and came to the conclusion that Gwen had more evidence of the blackmailing than what they’d found. The killer knew she had it and had tried to retrieve it. He’d failed.

  “Do you think the murder was done by someone Gwen knew, or do you think it was a hired job?” J.D. asked.

  “It was a neat, professional job.”

  “Which means?”

  “It means that any one of the suspects could’ve hired a hit man. Or Allen, or Hal, or some unknown man involved in the crime could have killed her. All we know for sure is the killer is a man.”

  They fell silent, each trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The remainder of the flight was bumpy. J.D. nearly kissed the ground the moment she stepped into the terminal building. She strode out into the night and hailed a cab.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The annoyance in his voice clued her in he was upset with her.

  “Getting a cab to go home,” she told him in a reasonable voice.

  “I brought you, J.D. I’ll take you home.”

  A cab stopped in front of them. The driver jumped out. “You called a taxi?”

  Before she could speak, Luke stepped forward. “I’ll take the lady home.”

  “Luke, it’s been a long day. I just thought I’d save you an extra trip.”

  “Thank you for thinking about me, but I’m not the kind of man who would just walk off and leave a woman at the airport.”

  “You act like I’m challenging your manhood.” It hit her then that that was exactly the way he was viewing it. She should tell him to quit acting like some romantic hero, but what the hay—if he took her home, she could close her eyes and give in to the bone-crushing tiredness she felt. “Okay, you can take me home.”

  In spite of her weariness, she didn’t sleep on the drive from the airport. Instead, with her eyes closed, she was more aware of Luke than if she’d been staring at him. Each time he moved, she heard the rustle of his clothing. His warmth, his energy, didn’t diminish in the quiet. It was a living, breathing thing that curled around her, making her wish he’d stay with her once they got to her house.

  As the day progressed, it had taken on a more and more surreal quality. There were moments when J.D. wondered if she had simply dreamed the whole thing. The only thing that had a solid feel to it was the few minutes when she and Luke had exchanged vows.

  You’re in trouble, girl.

  Boy, don’t I know it.

  “J.D., wake up. We’re home.”


  It sounded too good to be real. She rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes. He looked as worn as she felt. “It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it, McGill?” She reached out and ran her fingers over the stubble of his cheek.

  His smile was warm and inviting. Before she gave in to temptation and asked him in to the house, she grabbed her purse and threw open the car door. “Thanks for the ride.”

  She had pulled her keys out and inserted them in the lock when he called to her. She turned and took a step toward him. Maybe he had felt the same pull she had.

  Suddenly, she heard an earth-shattering roar, then an extreme pressure at her back, thrusting her forward. For an instant she was weightless...then a hard jolt. The ground was rough under her cheek, and she heard Luke’s frantic cry before she slipped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 11

  “J.D.!” Luke yelled, covering his head to avoid the flying glass. The force of the explosion that ripped through her house blew out the windows of his sedan. Brushing glass out of his hair, he scrambled from the car and rushed to J.D.’s side.

  Never, never in the twenty-two years he’d been a policeman had he known such bone-numbing fear as he did this very instant. “Oh, God, let her be okay,” he whispered, hoping God would grant the only prayer he had uttered in the last few years.

  J.D. lay on her stomach, her arms outstretched above her head. He knelt and lightly touched her cheek. “J.D. Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

  In the light cast from the bright flames, he saw blood on the cement beneath her face. His stomach twisted into a thousand knots.

  “J.D., wake up, sweetheart.”

  There was no response from her. With trembling fingers, he sought a pulse at the base of her neck. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a good, strong beat.

  He glanced over his shoulder. The fire seemed confined to the other side of the house. For the moment, J.D. was in no danger from the burning building.

  More than anything, he wanted to roll her over and gather her into his arms. He knew from experience that would only put her in more danger. Let the paramedics look at her first.

  He looked around to see if someone had called for assistance. J.D.’s neighbor, Sarah, came running down the driveway.