Read Online Bad Moon Rising by Katherine Sutcliffe - Free Book Online Page B

magazine last night.”
    “Twenty minutes. I swear it.”
    “What would I do without you?”
    “Don’t worry, honey. It’ll be okay. Twenty minutes.”
    As he disconnected, Holly looked around, again with
the slow curving of her lips. “Girlfriend?”
    He didn’t respond, just tossed the phone onto the backseat,
on top of the file labeled Damascus , laura.
     
    The car was gone. J.D. wasn’t surprised. Leav ing a car parked in the river
warehouse district was asking for trouble. As he leaned back against the
Mustang, arms crossed over his chest, the heat of the sun-baked street seeping
up through his Nikes, he watched Holly pace, growing more frantic by the
second, and though she was trying hard not to cry, her voice quavered
dangerously.
    “Oh my God. What am I going to do? All my clothes, my
makeup, my money—”
    “What the hell were you doing leaving your money in
the car?”
    “In my suitcase. You don’t think I was going to walk
around this place at two in the morning with my purse stuffed full of money, do
you?”
    He looked up and down the street—mostly vacant since
it was Sunday. Even the too-often-stupid tourists knew better than to leave a
vehicle in the area. “You’re sure this is where you parked it?”
    She glared at him, her face flushed by heat and
anxiety.
    He shrugged. “So I drop you off at the station and you
file a report.”
    “You don’t understand.” She sank against the car beside
him and stared at the curb as if she could will her car to suddenly
materialize. “I have exactly ten dollars on my person. Every last dime I owned,
which wasn’t much—five hundred dollars—was in my suitcase.”
    “Family in the area?” She shook her head. “Friends?”
    She hesitated, and her dark brows drew together as if
she were considering possible alternatives. “Just Melissa,” she finally said,
though not fully convincing J.D. as he watched her avoid, once again, looking
into his eyes.
    “Anyone back in Branson you can call?”
    Looking away, she shook her head. “Not really.”
    “Not even a boyfriend.”
    “No one.”
    “You gay or what?” He grinned. “Excuse me?”
    “You don’t look like the kind of woman who wouldn’t
have some guy on the hook.”
    “God, my car has been stolen and you’re being sexist.”
    She dug into her purse and extracted a crumpled box of
cigarettes. She tried to light one with a disposable lighter, but her hand was
shaking too badly. J.D. took the lighter and lit it for her, watched her soft
red lips form to the filter.
    “Thanks.” She blew out a stream of smoke and sighed. “I’m
keeping you from your girlfriend, I take it.”
    He glanced at his watch. Late again. By now, Beverly’s angst would have risen another notch. Sure, he could make a sweep by the
department and drop Holly off, drive away, and not look back. But he was a
sucker for women in distress, and he knew she would find little sympathy among
the overworked vice cops. Besides, what was she supposed to do now with no
money? Knowing the slop she was probably fed for breakfast, she would be
looking at the very real possibility of wandering the streets unable to eat if
Melissa didn’t show. Besides, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not,
he wasn’t ready to walk away from Holly Jones. She intrigued him, made him
second-guess his first impression that she was a hooker. Too clean. Too
refined. Too damn vulnerable.
    Besides, he couldn’t shake that niggling feeling that
he had seen her before.
    “Hungry?”
    “Famished.”
    No doubt he was going to regret this, but what choice
did he have? “Get in.”
    “I wouldn’t think of it. Wouldn’t want to cramp your
style or anything.”
    “Fine. Stay here and starve.”
    As he walked around the Mustang, Holly’s blue gaze
followed him. As he turned the ignition, she opened the door and dropped into
the seat, crossed her legs, and refused to look at him. Pride again. If they
had all day he might expound on the