Gleason spoke. “The manager of the hotel said he checked in this morning as a Jonathan Smith. Apparently on business from San Francisco. Forensics is still on the scene.”
“Good.” Captain Murphy nodded. “See what more we can find on this guy. Why was he at the Imperial? Who was he supposed to meet? Who sent him? We need to find out if these guys were Espinoza’s men and if she….” He tipped his head toward the room. “…is a part of all of this.”
Shado opened his mouth to offer his opinion and decided to wait. Gleason was far easier to reason with. He watched the ER doors swoosh open and the captain disappear into the night.
“Do you think maybe it’s better she stays here, even if it’s in the psych ward?” he asked.
Gleason shrugged. “You heard the captain. He wants us to bring her down to the station.”
“Yeah, I heard him. But you just explained she virtually has no memory except the short term. Where’s she going to go?”
Gleason shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll get her a hotel room, maybe? Put someone on her to watch her.”
“What if it takes longer than the doctor thinks for her memory to return? What if those goons come looking for her?”
Gleason’s face clouded. “Assuming she’s innocent, I suppose we could arrange for her to be placed in a holding cell, to keep her safe, but legally we can’t do so without just cause for longer than a few hours. Besides,” he offered with a wry grin, “she doesn’t impress me as the type who would go for that.”
Shado scratched his face, realizing it’d been days since he shaved. “Maybe we should talk to the doctor again? See what he can do?”
Gleason shrugged. “Maybe the psych unit is the way to go. They could place her up there without an evaluation. But I don’t particularly like the idea of some doc poking around her brain at this point.”
Neither did Shado. “Doc made it pretty clear she was to get plenty of rest and quiet to allow her memories to return on their own.” He paced the hall, pausing long enough to toss back the remainder of his now cold coffee. He pitched the cup into a trashcan with more force than was probably necessary. This whole thing frustrated him on so many levels. “I’ve got to get this sandwich to her. Maybe it’ll help.” He stepped quietly into the room. She lay in the semi-dark, her face illuminated by the soft light above her bed. He stood immobile, watching her sleep. Her wheat-colored hair, still matted in spots with blood, spilled out from beneath the bandage they’d wrapped around her head. Something jarred loose inside him. A piece of a solid wall he’d built up around his heart with the untimely passing of his brother.
Breathing deep against the tidal wave of fresh pain threatening to crumble his self-made solitude, he looked at her with renewed determination. He’d taken an oath to serve and protect, and even if she lived a lifestyle he didn’t much approve of, she was nonetheless deserving of police protection, especially from the likes of someone as powerful as Espinoza. Even if she wasn’t directly involved, she was witness to a murder. He couldn’t abandon her, not now. Or maybe he was merely providing an adequate excuse for wanting to be around her. As though hearing his thoughts, she turned and looked at him. A soft smile emerged on her face.
He held out the plastic-covered sandwich, hoping to cover for his blatant staring. “I, uh… brought you this. The cafeteria is closed. Ham and cheese is the best I can offer.”
She accepted the package and inspected it from every angle as though she’d never seen vendor food. Maybe she’d run away from one of those communes hidden up in the mountains and gotten mixed up with the wrong kind of folks.
“Where did you say this came from?” She sniffed it and made a face.
He gently took it from her and peeled back the protective cellophane. “A vending machine. Granted, it’s not the Ritz, but it will tide you over until….”
She reached for the container and her fingers brushed over his, sending a strange jolt straight to his groin. Her blue eyes met his, and he noticed for the first time the green flecks, which made them appear turquoise. Fishing it out of the container, she sniffed the sandwich and took a small bite, chewing it thoughtfully. Her expression questioned whether she liked it or not. “Until what?” she asked, swallowing the bite and taking another.
He shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain. “Yeah, here’s the thing. The captain would like you to come down to the station and look at some books.” “Books? What kind of books? Why?” She’d about finished the half of the ham and cheese and he fingered the crackers in his pocket, in case she was still hungry.
“He thought maybe if you looked through a few pictures you might recognize the man who did this. I wasn’t able to get a good look at his face with him holding you in front of him.” It made his blood boil to see women and children used as human shields by men who had no balls. “The captain thought if you could go through a few mug shots, maybe you’d recognize your attacker. I’d be right there to help you though. Promise.”
She shrugged. “Like I told your captain, I’ll do what I can to help you, but I need to find my way back home.”
“Do you remember where that is?” If she happened to remember anything, it certainly would make all their lives a little easier.
“I know it must have something to do with the Sweet Magnolia. Why else would I have been there?”
The million-dollar question. “But you don’t remember your name?”
She sighed and dropped the remainder of the sandwich in the plastic. “The doctor said he thought my memory would come back in a few days.”
“He’s a good doctor. I’m sure that’s true.”
“The truth is until I remember, I have nowhere to go. He suggested the police would help me find a shelter. He said there are places where women can go or maybe special cells where people stay overnight.” She grabbed his hand. “I don’t want to go to jail. I’ve done nothing wrong.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “What’s going to happen to me?”
As justified her fears were, he was unprepared to deal with them. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll work something out. We have no reason to believe you’ve done anything wrong.” He scratched the back of his neck, debating the truth of his statement. He pried from her grasp and occupied his hands with pouring her a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”
She took it from him and smelled it first, carefully taking a sip. “It’s water,” she remarked with surprise.
“Yeah.” He regarded her curiously. “You finish it. I’ve got to step out and visit with Detective Gleason.”
“You mean your cowboy friend?” she asked, catching a dribble of water on her chin.
Shado gave her a puzzled look. “Right.” Surely, the hat was a dead giveaway he was a Texas transplant, because he hadn’t mentioned it to her. “Are you okay?” She nodded.
He drew his hand down his cheek as he stepped from the room to find his “cowboy friend.” He found him seated in the waiting area.
“How’s she doing?” Gleason stood.
“She wolfed down that sandwich like nobody’s business. But she’s scared out of her mind she’s going to jail.” He blew out a frustrated sigh. “There’s no way I can let her stay in some holding cell. Besides, what if she happens to remember something? You heard the doc. She needs to be supervised for at least twenty-four hours.”
Gleason tilted his head and eyed him. “Boy, what is rattling around in your head?”
Shado rolled his shoulders and ran his hands down his face, mentally exhausted from his day. Truth was, he’d been battling a gnawing feeling in his gut ever since he laid eyes on the woman. Her clothes. Her story. Her perceived innocence. None of it added up. He was partly to blame for her predicament. What choice did he have? He felt responsible. He’d seen her fear. She might not immediately remember the killer’s face, but he sure as hell knew hers. If Espinoza had any part in this, she’d be like a sitting duck in a public cell. She needed to disappear. Get off the streets. Stay under the radar. Shado glanced toward Jack.
“What if I take her to my place? At least for twenty-four hours. She might have her memory back by then.”
Gleason snorted. “Oh hell, yeah. The captain’s going to go for that. Get serious.”
“She doesn’t belong in a cell.” Shado spoke in a low voice, throttling his frustration. “Right now, we don’t have much choice.”
“Not one you can live with anyway. Right?”
“I live like a mole. She’d be safe with me.”
Gleason raised a brow, releasing a deep sigh. “I can’t argue. You’re worse than my Aunt Lucy, and we haven’t seen her in twenty years.”
“I thought you said she died.”
“She did, and it took weeks to find her.” Gleason eyed him. “I’m not sure about this harebrained idea of yours.”
“I work undercover. I’m gone all the time. What do you expect? It’s perfect.
We’ll bring the books to my place.”
“It sounds like you’re setting yourself up for a mess of trouble.”
The doctor walked from the room with the woman at his side. She held her coat and nodded as he spoke to her. He escorted her to where the two men stood and handed Shado a white bag. “Tell whoever is watching over her that she should take these for the pain. I would advise that she needs to be awakened every few hours.” He looked from one man to the other. “Would you like me to write everything down?”
For a moment, Shado considered how risky his idea was, given the stirrings in his belly, but he only had to remind himself of why he was housing her to sober up his libido. He glanced at Gleason and took the white paper sack from the doctor. “Nope, thanks, Doc, I got it.”
“And this is for the abrasion on your cheek. Twice a day. Make sure you cleanse it thoroughly first.” He handed him a tube of ointment. Shado had nearly forgotten about the asphalt burn from the street.
“Thanks again.” He turned to the bedraggled woman. “Are you ready?”
She plucked the bag from his hand. “I’ve decided to go back to the hotel.”
Gleason spoke up then in a calm Texas drawl. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid we can’t let you leave alone.”
“What do you mean?” Irritation prickled in her response.
Shado cleared his throat. “The thing is,” he paused, “you’re coming home with me.” He took her coat and held it for her as she slipped her arms inside.
“I think I would rather go back to the hotel.”
Her fur coat, once elegant and white, was caked with dirt and matted blood.
She resembled a homeless alley cat trying to keep it all together.
He zipped up his coveralls against the bitter cold as the doors whooshed open. He wasn’t giving her any options. “Can you drop us off?” he called over his shoulder to Gleason.
“Sure. Frederickson went back to the station with the captain. I can drop you off.”
He felt a tug on his arm. “Do I have a say in this?” Her blue eyes flashed fire.
His brow rose. “Sure. Jail or my place. It’s your call.”
She straightened, pushing back her shoulders with a defiant air. “Listen, mister, I don’t know what you think of me, but I don’t go home with strange men.”
He eyed her, part of him wanting to ask her why then she was cavorting around one of Reno’s premier escort services, but the subject was probably moot in light of her bout of amnesia. He turned her face to his, pinning her with a no discussion-required look. “I’m afraid until we get whoever killed the man at the hotel, you’re our star witness. Even being on the street right now is very dangerous.”
Her attention darted to his superior. “Isn’t there anywhere else I can stay?” Gleason sighed. “Unfortunately, he’s right. Your choices appear to be limited.
It’s either his place or jail.”
“But I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Ma’am, it’s a matter of your safety,” Gleason urged. “It isn’t wise for you to be seen in public. We might be able to get you into a safe house, but under the circumstances, I don’t know how long that would take. To be honest, Detective Jackson’s is the most isolated place for your safety right now. And I guarantee, his behavior will be stellar or else he’ll have to answer to me.”
The shrill sound of tires peeling out on pavement squealed though the silent parking lot, and a black car, spraying bullets from its dark windows, roared up the curved emergency drive. Shado grabbed the woman and pulled her behind a concrete planter box, covering her with his body. The sound of breaking glass and gunfire echoed around them. He lifted his head in time to see the red tail lights turning the corner at the base of the drive.
“Gleason!” Shado shouted, but he stayed in place, his eyes darting around the near empty parking lot.
“Dammit. It’s my arm,” his superior answered. “Get her out of here. I’ll be okay.”
“You’re sure?” He cautiously drew the woman to her feet and tucked her against him. Staying low, he made his way to where Gleason lay on the ground clutching where a bullet had grazed him. Emergency room staff was already at his side assessing the situation.
Gleason shoved the keys in his hand. “Watch yourself.”
He nodded, and steadying her, made his way to the waiting van.
“Are we going to your home?” she asked, gingerly climbing into the passenger seat.
His guess was someone had waited and tailed them from the hotel. More disconcerting was that they’d been watching the hospital, waiting for the chance to leave a deadly calling card. “Soon,” he replied. Just as soon as he was sure they weren’t being followed.
Chapter Three
She huddled inside the fur coat, the stench of dried mud and blood curling up around her nose. Shivering between fear and the cold, she stole glances at the man behind the wheel. Despite the black spots in her memory, the name “Sweet Magnolia,” this man, and a handful of other memories seemed real, tangible, while other things—the dark streets, the tall buildings with rows of glass, and the neon signs beckoning people to “eat” or “play slots” were completely new to her.
If the uncertainty of her situation and the strange surroundings weren’t enough to tie her stomach in knots, she felt certain if the man didn’t slow this contraption down he was going to kill them both and neither one of them would ever get home. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the seat. She allowed her gaze to rise to the window, growing more nauseous at the blur of buildings in the murky night shadows.
“You mentioned the Magnolia.” His eyes clung to the road, for which she was grateful. “Were you involved in the society that bought the old bordello called the
Sweet Magnolia?”
She frowned. Why would she be involved in preserving a house of ill repute?
“Maybe you know someone who was involved with the transition of the Magnolia to the Imperial?” He gave her a quick glance. “Have you ever heard of a man by the name of Espinoza?”
Her head was spinning with the rapid fire of his questions. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean. Yes, the Sweet Magnolia does sound familiar, but I don’t know why. And as far as this Espinoza gentleman, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of him, at least not until I’ve regained my memory fully.”
He emitted a quiet snort and then straightened, leaning forward to stare at the road ahead. “Hang on,” he stated flatly and gripped the wheel. The carriage stopped with such force her body rose up out of the chair, drawing her toward the window. His strong arm reached out, slamming against her chest, preventing her from going headfirst through the clear wall of glass. She fell back in the seat, his arm acting to barricade her in place. Breathless and horrified, she darted him a look. “Are you certain you’re quite familiar with how to steer one of these?” She took a deep breath and looked ahead. In the lights emitting from the front of the carriage, she saw a mother cat and her kittens amble across the road.
He glanced at her. “Sorry.” Then in the next instant leaned forward and reached for a
strap near her shoulder. Her body reacted of its own accord to his all-male musky scent mingled with the crisp winter air. “You forgot your seat belt.” His gaze flitted briefly to hers and there it was again, that thunderbolt of attraction she remembered from the first time they’d met. He hesitated, but only briefly, before pulling the strap toward her hip and latching it in a buckle. He settled back into his seat and drew a similar band over his broad chest. He tossed her a side look and shifted the rod sticking out from the wheel.
The carriage lurched forward, quickly gaining speed. She swallowed hard, digging her fingers into the soft leather seat. Her body’s reaction to his unmistakably rugged, masculine presence and the speed at which objects whirred past the window challenged her equilibrium. Closing her eyes only made matters worse. “Are we almost there?” she asked, unsure if going to jail might not have been the wiser choice.
“Not too far, but I want to make sure we aren’t being followed.”
“By those people who shot at us earlier?” She peeked open one eye to look at him.
He nodded in response. She watched him scan the road ahead. Periodically, his attention darted to a small mirror attached to the outside of the fast-moving carriage. There was little to do except hang on and pray those men, whoever they were, didn’t return. “What do you call this?” she asked, attempting to make conversation to dissuade her fear of the speed at which they were going.
He looked at her. “Do you mean what type of vehicle is it?”
She wasn’t sure exactly what she meant. This was a new and utterly strange experience.
“It’s our precinct’s van.”
The curious look on his face prevented her from asking him to explain what a precinct was. “It goes very fast.” Her breath caught as he sped up to get through where two roads intersected. The lights on the tops of the tall poles seemed to turn magically from red to yellow to green and he gave little regard to flying right through every color. They drove through streets that seemed alive with hundreds of lights, which made it seem like daytime. All at once, their journey took them farther away from the colored spectacle and into the darker streets with dim lighting.
Christmas Angel Page 5