Bride On the Run

by Leann Harris

  She could deal with this, she assured herself. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Her bruised ribs protested.

  One of his hands lightly brushed the line of her chin. Her eyes flew open.

  “J.D., you’re still in danger. Once whoever tried to kill you discovers they failed, they will, in all likelihood, try again. You wouldn’t want to put Emma or Sarah in that type of danger, would you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “That makes me the best companion for you, at least for the next few days.” He stood and slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ve talked with my captain, and he agrees that it is best for you to keep a low profile.”

  She didn’t like the sound of this little plan. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means for the time being we need to stash you somewhere safe until we get some sort of lead on this maniac.”

  It was getting worse. “Define stash Detective.”

  “A place known only to me and my captain. And even he didn’t know about this place until I told him about it this morning.”

  She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What and where is this place?”

  “My house.”

  “No.” The word popped out.

  He returned to her side. “Look at the situation through your lawyer eyes. No emotion. I recently moved into a house that I’ve owned for a number of years but rented out. No one knows about this house. Everyone thinks I still live in an apartment off Inwood Road. You’ll be safe, the city won’t be out any rent for a hotel room, and I’m familiar with the layout of the neighborhood.”

  “What about the trio we met in Las Vegas? If one of them is the murderer, won’t your place be the first place they look for me?”

  “You’re right. They’ll try my old apartment first and discover I’ve moved and left no forwarding address. My phone’s unlisted and the department files don’t have my current street number. So whoever is looking for you will be forced to find me. And that’s what I want. I want those bastards after me, not you.” The coldness in his voice made her shiver.

  “You’re baiting a trap, Luke, making yourself the target. I can’t let you do it.”

  He lightly clasped her hands. “I get paid to do this, J.D.”

  “But—”

  He laid his finger over her lips. “Even if it wasn’t my job, I’d do it. When they hurt you, it became personal.” His fingers skimmed her cheek. “Now, no more arguments, Counselor, or I’ll arrest you and put you in protective custody.”

  “Try it, Detective, and I’ll slap the city with a wrongful arrest suit so fast it will make your head spin.” She couldn’t let him get away with bullying her, no matter how noble the cause. She looked down at the ugly tan blanket on the bed and picked a piece of fuzz off it. “Are you sure I just couldn’t hole up in a hotel room?”

  “The department can’t provide you with round-the-clock protection. If you’re with me, then we don’t have to pay overtime.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave her an apologetic smile.

  She chuckled. “Ever practical.”

  All humor left his face. “No. You’re in danger. And until we get a better handle on who’s behind this, the best place for you is with me.”

  The best place for you is with me. The thought reverberated through her soul. As much as it scared her, she couldn’t deny it. What he said made sense. She was in danger and knew it. And in spite of all her protestations, Luke had the best solution.

  “It’s a temporary solution, Counselor.”

  Irrationally, the thought saddened her. “What about my practice, Luke?”

  “Let Emma gather as much information as possible, then she can join you at my place during the day and you two can reconstruct your cases.”

  In spite of all the logical reasons why this solution made sense, J.D. had the funny feeling if she agreed to it, it would forever change her life. For better or worse, she didn’t know.

  “All right, McGill, I’ll stay with you. But I warn you, I don’t pick up anyone’s socks but mine.”

  He arched his brow. “Who asked you to, Counselor?” He walked across the room and paused at the door. “When you’re dressed, buzz the nurse.”

  She watched the door close silently behind him. Suddenly, she wondered who posed the greatest danger. Some unknown killer? Or Lucas McGill?

  CHAPTER 12

  Luke watched J.D. wander down the wide aisle of the local discount department store. Her shopping cart was filled with shampoo, soap, makeup, two pairs of jeans and several shirts. Earlier, they had stopped by an exclusive second-hand shop in North Dallas that sold only designer clothes, things wealthy women had worn once or twice, then discarded. The saleslady knew J.D. by name and had saved three suits for her.

  J.D. boggled his mind. No matter what the surroundings, she seemed to fit in. As she passed the candy aisle, she tossed in several bags of chocolate candies.

  “I want to go to the mall next to buy shoes,” she told him as they stood in the checkout line.

  He studied her. She looked like a wounded kitten with the gauze bandage covering her cheek and chin. He saw past her bravado to the telltale tiredness in her eyes and the slump in her shoulders.

  “J.D., I’ll take you there tomorrow. We’ve done enough today.”

  She didn’t argue, which only confirmed his diagnosis.

  Luke noticed the looks the other customers gave her, then him, as if he was the one who had hurt her. He felt insulted that these people would assume he was responsible for J.D.’s injuries. The final straw was when the lady behind the cash register put her hands on her ample hips, threw back her head and stared at him like he was a cockroach. He glared right back.

  Luke held his tongue until they were in the car. “The old bat,” he grumbled as he drove out of the parking lot.

  J.D. raised her head from the back of the seat. “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “That woman who checked us out kept giving me the evil eye, acting like I was the one who hurt you.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. I know the difference.”

  Her confidence warmed him.

  She relaxed back into the seat cushions. “I’m more tired than I thought.”

  For the remainder of the fifteen-minute trip, J.D. dozed. After parking in front of his house, Luke leaned over and touched her arm. “J.D., we’re here.”

  Slowly she opened her eyes and looked around.

  He lived in an older, upper-middle-class neighborhood. The small brick home sat back from the street. The yard was well tended. He stole a glance at J.D. to see her reaction.

  “It’s a good-looking place, Luke. Not at all what I expected.”

  “Oh? Where did you think I lived?”

  She shrugged, then grimaced. “Oh, I don’t know. Some depressing place where policemen live. Under a bridge with the rest of the trolls. How do I know? I’ve never been to a policeman’s house.”

  He wagged his finger at her. “It’s always wise to know your opposition, Counselor.” He got out of the car and gathered up her packages.

  She followed behind him. “Do you do your own yard work?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because if you do, I’d like to hire you to do my yard.”

  A dead silence followed her statement.

  She shook her head. “How silly of me. I don’t have a house. Probably don’t have a yard.”

  He wanted to lean down and kiss her, offering the warmth of his lips and body as a comfort. Who was he kidding? He’d be offering more than a little comfort—a whole lot more.

  He fumbled, trying to fit the key into the lock and balance her packages at the same time.

  “Here, let me,” J.D. said, taking the key ring from his fingers.

  Her hair hung in a single braid down her back. He longed to run his hand over that soft mass. After she unlocked the door, she held it open for him. She followed him inside and came to a
stop just inside the door.

  Her eyes made a slow survey of the furnishings in the living room. It had a Western flavor, the sofa and two chairs done in neutral fabric. The coffee table rested on a woven Indian rug. Highly polished hardwood floors ran throughout the house.

  She smiled at the potted cactus sitting in the center of the coffee table. Now that was what she’d been expecting, something prickly and untouchable. That was the embodiment of Lucas McGill.

  Beyond the sofa, in what should have been a dining room, stood a desk with a computer and several bookcases.

  “You’re an unpredictable man, McGill.”

  He flashed her a devilish smile. “Good. I hate to be predictable.”

  He took her packages down the hall and set them in the bedroom. She followed him, peeking in the first door she passed. What had obviously been a bedroom had been turned into a gym with weights of every description.

  “I’m kind of disappointed. I was expecting some sort of early bachelor or police chic, not this neat, orderly place.”

  “You mean you were expecting clothes on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink, maybe a rifle rack on the wall and beer cans littering the house?”

  She blushed. “Am I that transparent?”

  Her question stopped Luke. Was she? Or had he become so close to her that he was beginning to read her thoughts? He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Lots of people think policemen live in caves.”

  He motioned to the door behind him. “That’s the bathroom.” Pointing to the last doorway, he said, “I only have one bed in the house. I’ll bunk out on the sofa.”

  With a racing heart, J.D. stepped into his bedroom. An unmade king-size bed without a headboard dominated one wall. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a tall chest of drawers pushed into the corner. Her eyes met his.

  He lifted one shoulder. “I was in a hurry Monday morning. Here, let me get some clean sheets and make the bed.”

  Weariness pressed down on J.D. The day had taken its toll on her, and she didn’t think she would last long enough to change the sheets. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He paused. “You’re sure? I changed them on Sunday.”

  Her knees were shaking, and if he didn’t leave this minute, she knew she’d disgrace herself by doing something stupid like collapsing on the floor. “This is fine.” When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “Really.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you take a short nap?”

  “I think I will.”

  “I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.”

  “Thanks, Luke.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  J.D. slipped off her shoes and stretched out on the mattress. It was a comfortable bed. The sheets were smooth and smelled of sunshine and man. As she closed her eyes, his scent wrapped around her, and for the first time in a long, long time, she felt everything in the world was in its right place.

  Odd.

  * * *

  Luke checked the steaks on the grill in the backyard. They were almost ready, and he needed to wake J.D. He went inside and quietly walked down the hall, listening for any sign that she was stirring. Hearing nothing, he pushed open the bedroom door. She lay on her side, her knees curled toward her chest.

  In his wildest fantasies, he had never imagined J.D. Anderson sleeping like a babe in his bed. He’d wanted her in bed, but sleeping was the last thing he thought they’d be doing. But circumstances had worked against him, and here she was in his bed, aching from the battering her body had taken in the explosion.

  But the bizarre twist to the whole scenario was that J.D. had a legal right to be in his bed. She was his wife. Truth was indeed stranger than fiction.

  He sat on the mattress and lightly shook her shoulder. She moaned.

  “C’mon, J.D. Dinner’s ready.”

  Her eyes flickered open, and in their blue depths Luke saw a smoldering warmth that startled him. Her eyes closed, and she smiled as if pleased by what she saw.

  “J.D., wake up.”

  “It’s too good to wake up,” she mumbled, sleepily snuggling against him.

  Sizzling fire ran up his leg. He gritted his teeth against the heat, determined not to give in to the urge to roll her on her back and kiss her into wakefulness.

  But what she mumbled in her sleep interested him. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “What’s too good?”

  Her eyes popped open and he read a completely alert expression in her face. “Nothing.”

  As she struggled to sit, he reached over and helped her. Her braid had half unraveled, strands of gold sticking out in wild disarray. The sight brought other thoughts to mind.

  “I assume dinner’s ready.”

  Her words didn’t penetrate the fog of desire in his brain. “Huh?”

  “The reason you woke me was to tell me dinner’s ready.”

  He was acting like a first-class idiot, all hormones and no brains. “Yes. That’s right.”

  “If you’ll move, I’ll get up,” she grumbled, sounding like a cranky child.

  Determined not to show her he was rattled, he stood and casually stepped back from the bed.

  She scrambled to her feet. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” She didn’t wait for him to answer but hurried to the bathroom.

  She appeared five minutes later. Her hair had been rebraided and she looked more in control of herself. He’d already set the steaks on the table.

  “Would you like some wine?” he asked, pulling out a chair for J.D.

  “No, thank you, but you go ahead.” He heard the strain in her voice.

  Her response triggered the memory that J.D.’s mother had been an alcoholic. He set the bottle aside, not bothering to fill his glass, and made a pitcher of instant tea.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. “Sometimes smelling wine or beer on a person’s breath brings back memories I’d like to forget.”

  They ate most of their dinner listening to the traffic on the streets outside and the barking of the neighbor’s dog. Finally J.D. asked, “Tell me something, McGill. How can you afford this house on a policeman’s salary?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Think I’m on the take?”

  “The thought never crossed my mind. But with the way real estate prices are in the city, this place must’ve cost you a fortune.”

  He toyed with the last of his steak. Did he dare reveal that part of his soul to her? Hadn’t J.D. shared as many painful things with him? He hadn’t used them against her. “I bought this house as a last, desperate attempt to make Kay happy. I purchased it without her seeing it, sort of a surprise anniversary present. When I brought her here, she took one look at it and asked me if I expected her to live in such a small house in a plain, middle-class neighborhood. She never set foot inside. I think that’s why I didn’t sell it after the divorce. There was nothing here to remind me of Kay. But with the cost of the lawyers and all, I had to rent the place out.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t demand you sell the place and split the profits with her,” J.D. commented as she set her plate on the counter next to the sink.

  “Ah, that’s the response I would’ve expected out of a lawyer.”

  J.D. placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  “Kay didn’t bother with the house because she was so concerned that I would want money from her. She was making twice the amount of money I was at the time of our divorce.”

  J.D. waved away the notion. “That’s ridiculous. Anyone who knows you, knows you never would’ve done anything like that.”

  Her response bowled him over. She was right. Anybody who knew him knew he’d refuse money from Kay. So what did that mean? That J.D., after spending a few days with him, knew him better than Kay had after growing up with him and being married to him for eight years?

  J.D. sat down and reached for her ice tea. “Do you know where Kay is now?”

  “She’s working for an international firm headquartered in Belgium.”

  “Did
she ever remarry?”

  “Yes. She married the vice president of the company.” He stabbed his fork into the potato skin on his plate. “Kay is big news in our little hometown. Her mother gives everyone a blow-by-blow description of her daughter’s success. Last Christmas, Kay and her husband flew in and spent the holidays with her family. It was the biggest event since the town was hooked up to the county generator and got electricity for the first time. Some folks who saw both say Kay’s visit stirred more excitement.”

  He didn’t want to be bitter about it, but sometimes hearing about Kay’s jet-setting life-style made him feel like the biggest failure to come out of End of the World, Texas.

  J.D. reached across the table and laid her hand on his. “You’re good at what you do, Luke, and you have the respect of your colleagues. That’s success in my book. And I’ll bet your mother feels the same.”

  He read approval and admiration in her eyes. She wasn’t just mouthing some platitude. She was telling him the truth. The tight knot of bitterness in his belly eased.

  At that moment, he wanted to crawl across the table and take her in his arms and give her a kiss that would blow the circuit breakers on this street and the surrounding blocks. Only her battered condition stopped him.

  He gathered up his plate and salad bowl and moved to the sink.

  “I’ll wash,” she said, joining him.

  He grasped her hands, turning them palm up. The heels of both hands were scraped and bruised. “Not with those you won’t. You dry.” He didn’t release her. His fingers caressed the soft skin above her pulse.

  Her eyes moistened. “That’s a first. None of the men in my life ever worried about something so insignificant.”

  Luke homed in on the words none of the men in my life. His heart pounding, he asked, “Is that what I am, J.D.? An important man in your life?”

  “I don’t know, McGill. Everything has gotten so confused. Legally, you’re my husband, but...”

  Her answer frustrated him and suddenly he wanted to know what he was to her. “I don’t want to know what the lawyer part of you thinks. Tell me what the woman in you feels.”