A Christmas Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page A

crumbled.
    Instead of going to her Saturn, Joey steered her toward a racy black sports car and opened the passenger door. She got in without a word. For the moment, she didn't care where she went as long as she didn't have to make a choice. She felt herself slipping back into the lethargy that had marked the past two years of her life, since she'd joined the witness protection program. The only decisions she'd made had been professional—which artists to buy and show, what presentations, what dates and times. That work had been her lifeline from one day to the next.
    Once behind the wheel, Joey cast a look at her, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. She seemed almost catatonic, as if by giving up on going down to NOPD headquarters she had given up on everything. He drove out of the Quarter and headed toward Lake Pontchartrain. In the heavy Christmas traffic, he had to pay strict attention to the road, but he had several moments where he glanced at Cori only to find her gaze distracted, her attention focused in a place so internal he worried that she had left reality behind.
    "I'm okay," she finally said without even looking at him. "I just don't know what to do anymore."
    They were in a neat neighborhood of white frame houses on a street lined with old oaks that canopied the road. Joey pulled into a driveway, relieved to see the red Mazda parked there. When Cori didn't move, he got out and walked around the car to open her door.

    She looked at the house, then up at him, confusion apparent.
    "We can talk here," he said, helping her from the car.
    She followed him like a puppy, and Joey felt another spurt of worry. Would this woman be able to testify again? He'd heard her take the stand at the first DeCarlo double murder trial, and Cori St. John, then known as Brently Gleason, had been one of the strongest eyewitnesses he had ever heard. She had remembered acute detail, convincing detail, and he had been told she had a type of photographic memory that nailed down scraps of information with perfect recall. But looking at her, it seemed as if she might have trouble remembering how to dress.
    When she stumbled on the brick steps because of her injured knee, he steadied her. Before he could say a word, the screen door flew open and a tall, slender woman with black curls that hung to her waist rocketed out onto the porch.
    "Joey! What have you done? Look." She pointed at Cori's blood-soaked leg. "Why is she even walking? You're plenty strong enough to carry this woman. Why is she limping along, you big galoot?"
    Dark eyes that exactly matched Joey's snapped onto him. "How did she get hurt in the first place, Joey?"
    Instead of trying to answer the flood of questions, Joey put his hand on Cori's shoulder and gave her a little support. When the dark-haired woman paused to draw a breath, Joey finally spoke. "Cori St.
    John, this is my sister, Laurette. Laurette, Cori is.. .she was in an accident over in the Quarter. She wasn't feeling well so I thought we could come here for a cup of coffee and some privacy. "
    Laurette's dark eyes rolled. "The woman is bleeding, and you want privacy? The saints should walk beside you, Joey Tio. Your skull is as thick as dried swamp mud." She shook her head. "Sometimes I think you have moss for brains. If Mama could see this..."
    "Laurette..." Joey's voice had a warning tone. He was already beginning to regret bringing Cori here, but it was the only truly safe place he knew. Safe from the prying eyes of anyone who might be watching Cori, and also safe from the intricate web of personnel and contacts that made up the witness protection program. Cori had indeed blown her cover. Legally, the U.S. Marshals could wash their hands of her and assume no further responsibility. But if he could get her out of town, maybe he could patch up her cover until the trial. And maybe she could be kept safely out of harm's way, if she cooperated. Then she could have a new identity and start again.
    "Come inside." Laurette