Christmas Getaway by Tina Leonard and Marion Lennox Anne Stuart Page A

brains to look before he decided to stroll out the front door the way she had, wouldn’t he?
    If she ran, they’d follow her, and find him. She really didn’t have any choice in the matter. So she plastered her best smile on her face and started toward the approaching man. She hoped to God that he wasn’t holding a gun in the hand she couldn’t see.
    Because as hot as James Fitzpatrick was, she had no intention of dying for him, or anyone else.
    â€œYes, I’m Eloise Pollard,” she said. “Can I help you, Officer?”
    The man coming toward her frowned. “How did you know I was a cop?” he asked. And she waited for the arm to come up, and her life to be over.
    And the only thing she could think of was, I should have kissed him back.

CHAPTER FIVE
    F ITZ SHOWERED QUICKLY . The hot water ran out, thanks to the bride, and he cursed as he banged his elbow on the rusty tin stall in his hurry to get out of the suddenly icy blast. She’d bought him boxers with Christmas trees on them, probably out of sheer malice. He pulled them on, cursing. The jeans were too small for him—probably on purpose, as well—but he could get away with the black jeans he’d been wearing when everything had gone south. At least they wouldn’t show the blood.
    He prodded the skin around the wound. It was tender, but not agonizing. The bride was a pretty good doctor—he’d lucked out when he’d grabbed her. Except that she was a pain, and tempting, and he had too much on his plate just trying to stay alive to even be thinking about her that way.
    But hell, he was a man. There was always time to think about sex.
    He looked around for his All Stars. She’d had the presence of mind to put them by the space heater, and the canvas had dried out, at least for the time being. She was someone who paid attention to details—he liked that in a woman.
    She’d also stolen his leather jacket, leaving him with nothing but a hooded sweatshirt, also with a freaking Christmas tree on it, and his appreciation faded fast. Shoving his gun inhis waistband, he started for the door, planning to catch up with her and get his damned jacket back, and maybe, just maybe, kiss the hell out of her simply because he wanted to and because maybe he wasn’t going to make it through the day, when something stopped him.
    The instincts that had made him spin out of the way when Barber raised his gun, the instincts that had kept his sorry ass alive for so long were on full alert.
    They’d found him.
    He moved toward the window, slowly, so that his shadow wouldn’t be noticeable through the dingy curtains, and looked out. O’Bannion was there, towering over her, and Morrissey was skulking around the car.
    She was on her own. They’d have no reason to hurt her, but if they thought she knew anything about where he’d gone, they wouldn’t hesitate to…
    He couldn’t think about that. He backed away from the window, slowly. He’d already wasted too much time. He had to get to Maine, find out what kind of proof Spinelli had. Find a way to stop O’Bannion and Morrissey and clear his name.
    The bride would have to fend for herself.
    Â 
    I T WAS ALL Ellie could do not to turn and run. The man was big, tall and husky, with a smooth smile and the eyes of a sociopath or a politician. “You’ve got official plates on your car,” she said reasonably. “And I’m a doctor—I’ve dealt with the police before when I’ve done work in the E.R. Am I wrong?”
    â€œYou’re absolutely right, Dr. Pollard. I’m Senior Detective Connor O’Bannion and this is Detective Morrissey. Your fiancé has been very worried about you.”
    â€œI’ve been in touch with him, Detective. He knows I’mfine—he just overreacted when I decided to take some time away. It’s awfully nice of you to go to all this trouble. How in the world