Christmas Angel by Amanda McIntyre Page B

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