Police Protector

by Dani Sinclair

  “Uh, let’s not make it right now, okay?”

  Whitney laughed and quickly sobered. “You look tired, Lucan.”

  “I am tired. It goes with the job. You, on the other hand, look gorgeous.”

  “I look like a pregnant walrus, but thanks just the same.”

  “Pregnancy becomes you.” He nodded toward the car. “I thought you were selling that and buying a sedan.”

  “We tried selling it, but the deal fell through. If you want it I’ll give you a good price.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” He’d driven the brightly colored sports car once and been totally hooked. “That’s one sweet car.”

  “But it isn’t practical, especially at this time of year.”

  No, an expensive sports car certainly wasn’t practical, but he could dream. Whitney came from money. His family didn’t. Even though he knew Whitney would give him the car if she didn’t think it would ruffle his pride, a police detective in a flashy sports car like hers just shouted “cop on the take” to his mind.

  “We’re picking up the new sedan tomorrow,” Whitney informed him. “At least think about it. I’ll give you a family discount.” She smiled easily. “I really hate to go through the whole selling process all over again, but Flynn says it’s a thief magnet.”

  “Flynn’s right.” And that was another point. The car wouldn’t last three minutes in some of the areas he had to work. Still, Lucan gazed at the car wistfully.

  “Like I said, think about it, Lucan. I hate to run, but I promised Dad—”

  He gave her a brief hug. “Go. I’m amazed you and the kid can still fit behind the steering wheel. And thanks for dropping off dinner. I’ll call Mom as soon as I go inside. Maybe I’ll take the brownies over and have desert with her. She probably has ice cream to go with them.”

  “You’re as incorrigible as your brother.”

  Lucan returned her smile. “We’re related.”

  “So true. Good night, Lucan.”

  “Drive carefully.”

  He watched Whitney pull out onto the street before returning to his car to move it into the driveway.

  The smell of his mother’s lasagna hit him the minute he stepped inside. He called her while the oven heated. She had friends coming over for a meeting, so the conversation was short. Whitney would be relieved to learn she couldn’t have done dinner with him anyhow. Unfortunately, it also meant he’d have to have his brownies without ice cream unless he wanted to go back to the convenience store.

  That thought reminded him of the boy, and he frowned. There was nothing more he could do about that situation tonight. The kid wasn’t likely to return to the store any time soon.

  BUT LUCAN WAS STILL thinking about the boy in the morning as he ran through the neighborhood. The tree-lined streets were sleepy and peaceful as usual. Nothing struck a chord of concern. There were no houses up for sale and judging by the holiday decorations dotting the houses and yards, the homes were all occupied. The weather had been unexpectedly mild after the cold front that had ushered in the month of December, but according to the weather reports, that was going to change again soon.

  Another robbery had been reported last night. The home owners had returned from vacation to find the alarms cut and the house ransacked. Naturally, the owner had to be a close friend of the most outspoken council member—as if the police department didn’t have enough pressure to find the thieves. The cases were stacking up.

  Lucan spent another fruitless day talking to people and reviewing evidence only to come up empty once more. Frustrated and tired, he finally headed home after seven for a beer and leftover lasagna. He was nearly to the intersection where the convenience store was located when he remembered the boy. Changing direction, he turned down the street behind the convenience store and beyond where the single homes started. Astounded, he spotted the kid, still wearing the same dark coat and grungy pants and toting the green backpack as he hurried down the sidewalk.

  Lucan pulled his car to the side of the road and set off after the kid on foot. The boy must have heard the car door because he cast a look over his shoulder and took off running. This time Lucan had the advantage. He got hold of the backpack and spun the boy around until he could grip the boy’s arm.

  The kid turned into a wild thing, struggling for all he was worth, kicking, punching and wriggling but never making a sound. Lucan had all he could do to hold on to the boy. He tried to calm him down, but the boy was having none of it.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a police officer. Take it easy! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

  A woman’s furious contralto split the air. “Get your hands off him! Help! Police!”

  Chapter Two

  Lucan jerked his head over his shoulder. He’d been so focused on the boy he hadn’t heard the car that was now stopped in the middle of the road. But he certainly heard what proved to be a striking brunette. Knee-high brown leather boots with sexy high heels didn’t slow her down a bit. Nor did the pencil slim skirt above them as she ran toward him. Her pretty, delicate features were pinched with fury.

  “Lady, I am the police!”

  She didn’t appear to hear him.

  “That’s my nephew! Let him go, you pervert!”

  She swung a matching brown leather shoulder bag at him that looked almost too large for her frame. He turned away, letting his back and side take the brunt of the blow.

  “Ow! Stop! What have you got in there? I said stop! I’m a cop!”

  Automatically, his left hand came up to block the next swing of the purse, so she kicked him. That fast, the boy eeled away from his grip and took off at a dead run. The kid sprinted across the lawn and disappeared between the houses. Lucan swore. She hit him again.

  “Hit or kick me one more time and I’ll arrest you for assault.” He pulled out his badge case, flipped it open one-handed and thrust it in her face.

  She stopped swinging. Taking the leather folder with a perfectly manicured hand, she studied it intently, still radiating fury. Her sassy cap of short brown hair glinted under the streetlamp overhead. The fitted brown leather vest over a soft white blouse hugged nicely rounded breasts. A wide belt cinched at her waist emphasized the trim fit of her skirt. Her jewelry was understated, but the heavy gold bangles circling her wrists weren’t costume, and he’d bet neither were the flashing earrings or the simple gold chains at her throat.

  Large brown eyes raised from the badge to pierce him in angry disbelief. “Are you really a cop?”

  Exasperated, he set his jaw. “Hit me again and you’ll see my handcuffs.”

  She thrust the folder back at him. “What were you doing with my nephew?”

  “Trying to ask him some questions.”

  “That’s not how it looked to me.” The sexy high-heeled boots brought her nearly to eye level with him at six feet tall. Her glare said she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by his badge or his height. “You looked like a pervert trying to kidnap him.”

  Lucan tried counting to ten. He didn’t make it past four. That heart-shaped face and creamy smooth skin might tempt a man to want to learn more about her, but the shrew’s temper would quickly squash the idea. “Let me see your driver’s license.”

  Her eyes snapped fire. Lucan held that gaze, narrowing his own eyes and waiting. Scowling, she opened her purse. A thirty-eight revolver was clearly visible despite the jumble of items inside.

  Lucan jerked the purse from her grasp. Letting it fall to the ground, he spun her around. “You’re under arrest.”

  “What?”

  He snapped handcuffs into place.

  “Let me go! You can’t arrest me for calling you a pervert.”

  His jaw clenched. “No, but I can arrest you for carrying a concealed weapon, impeding an officer in the performance of his duty and assault on a police officer.” He glanced at the expensive car with its engine still running, sitting in the middle of the street, and steered her up against it. “And impeding the flow of traffic,” he a
dded.

  “You have to be kidding!”

  She struggled as he patted her down quickly and impersonally despite the fact that the body beneath his hands was made for a different sort of patting entirely.

  “You have the right to remain silent—”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. I know my rights. I’m a lawyer.”

  He managed to silence the oath that sprang to his lips and continued reciting the Miranda rights.

  “What about Kip?” she demanded. “Don’t you understand? Something is wrong!”

  The rising tenor of her tone almost stopped him, but he finished and held the stormy gaze she tossed over her shoulder at him. “Do you understand these rights as stated?”

  “Yes!”

  He stepped back and let her turn around. She tossed aside a drift of hair that had fallen across one eye and glared furiously.

  “I apologize,” she offered without a trace of apology in her tone or manner. “But you were manhandling my nephew. It made me see red.”

  “I was not manhandling him!” He lowered his voice wondering why he was letting this woman get to him. “Your nephew was kicking me.”

  “Because you grabbed him. I saw you.”

  Lucan swallowed a retort. “Lady, I’m not going to stand out here and argue with you.”

  The scene probably had looked bad from a concerned relative’s point of view, but he was not about to concede that point. “If you’re the kid’s aunt, how come he took off?”

  A flash of chagrin. She swung her head as if trying to toss long hair over her shoulder only to realize it wasn’t there.

  “I live in Boston. I haven’t seen Kip in a couple of years.” Her eyes narrowed once more. “And you were scaring him to death.”

  The boy had been scared.

  Her striking blue eyes clouded. “I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s been a long day and there was no way I could know you were a cop when I intervened.”

  She still didn’t sound contrite.

  “We’re on the same side, Officer,” she added defiantly.

  “Detective.”

  She gave a negligent shrug.

  Lucan reached for her handbag. This woman knew how to press his buttons. Under her watchful gaze he removed the revolver. “You want to explain this?”

  Her frown twisted to annoyance. “I forgot it was in there.”

  Lucan waited. Even her sigh was angry. “It’s completely legal. I have permits to carry concealed, Detective. You’ll find them in my purse.”

  Lucan gritted his teeth, determined not to let her climb under his skin. The purse was so jammed with stuff he was surprised she could get it closed. No wonder it had felt like bricks when she hit him. The weapon was fully loaded. Beneath it sat a canister of pepper spray.

  “Expecting a war?”

  “I like to be prepared.”

  He held his temper along with her gaze. “You aren’t a cop.”

  “No, I told you, I’m a lawyer.”

  “Then you don’t have a permit to carry concealed in Maryland.”

  Irritation flashed in those bright blue eyes. “I’m an officer of the court, detective. I assure you all my paperwork is in order.”

  “Uh-huh. Well as an officer of the court, you should know the state of Maryland doesn’t recognize the right to carry concealed weapons for anyone outside of law enforcement.”

  If looks could burn, he’d be sizzling. It was her turn to grit perfectly even white teeth.

  “It was an oversight. When I left work I forgot the gun was in there or I would have taken it out.”

  He pulled out the pepper spray. “Boston must be rougher than I thought. Am I going to find a switchblade next?”

  “No!”

  “Good.” Lucan dug until he found the paperwork. A passport was there as well. That started a whole new set of alarm bells clanging.

  “Planning a trip out of the country?”

  “Yes. If you must know, my sister and I are taking her children on vacation this weekend. We’re flying to Bermuda.”

  “Uh-huh. In December. Right before Christmas.”

  “Can you think of a better time?”

  Lucan eyed her. “Does your sister have a husband?” Her gaze flickered. He pressed home his point. “Does he know about your vacation plans?”

  Her gaze dropped for an instant before challenging him once more. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It is if he has custody and no knowledge of your plans.”

  There was relief in her posture. “He doesn’t have custody. Milt’s her second husband. The children are all hers.”

  Bingo. This was a family dispute of some sort. Reason enough for the kid to run off. If it wasn’t for all the money the boy was flashing around, Lucan might be tempted to dismiss the situation. As it was, however…“Are your plane tickets in here as well?”

  “No. We haven’t booked our flight yet.” She flushed. “Okay, I know this sounds odd.”

  He kept his expression neutral. Suddenly the fight seemed to go out of her.

  “Look, something is wrong at my sister’s place. She was supposed to call me on Sunday to firm up our plans. She never called.”

  Concern clouded her features. Lucan tried to determine if it was real. He had the impression of genuine emotion, but how could he tell?

  “I haven’t been able to reach Casey all week. I wanted to come sooner but I had to finish a case before I could leave. You have my gun permits.”

  “Permits, plural?”

  “Yes.”

  From inside her purse he pulled out an envelope he’d shifted while looking for her wallet. Kyra Wolfstead was licensed to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Massachusetts and two neighboring states.

  He opened her bulging leather wallet and studied her driver’s license. The names matched. Her photo was crisp and clear. Lucan had a feeling cameras of any sort liked Kyra Wolfstead. He could understand their approval. If they’d met under different circumstances, he might approve as well.

  “I have business cards in there too,” she added.

  And a thick wad of cash that brought his head up sharply.

  “I didn’t want to waste time going to an ATM after I got here,” she explained before he could ask.

  Her tone was calm and brisk, but annoyance flashed once more. “We’re wasting time, Off—Detective. Casey has an ex-husband with a court injunction against him.”

  Which could easily be checked out and just might explain the arsenal and the passport. Lucan lifted one of the business cards and scowled. “This says you’re an insurance investigator.”

  She sighed. “I work for Dowlings Limited, as you can see. They are similar to Lloyds of London.”

  “I’ve heard of Dowlings. So are you an investigator or a lawyer?”

  “I’m both. I worked in international law for a time, which comes in handy with my current job. Many of our clients have places outside of the United States. Art objects and jewelry are often fenced in other countries. I know the laws and restrictions in many of those jurisdictions. Look, could we have this discussion later? I have an unusual job and it’s nice that you’re interested, but I’d like to go to my sister’s place and make sure Casey is okay. I’m deeply concerned.”

  Headlights speared them as an approaching car slowed. In the time they’d been talking, dusk had settled over the neighborhood. The driver of the oncoming car swung into the opposite lane on the narrow street to pass Kyra’s car, which was still sitting there with its engine running. A woman and two children stared curiously at them as they drove by. Lucan’s car was parked half a block away, and he’d left his radio inside.

  “Have a seat on the lawn under that tree.” He indicated an old elm with a wave of his hand. Kyra Wolfstead glared daggers. He raised a hand to forestall her next protest. “I need to move your car out of the middle of the street.”

  “For pity’s sake. The ground is freezing.”

  “I’ll hurry.”

  �
�You’d better.” She strode to the tree without waiting for assistance and folded gracefully onto the yellowed grass. Lucan thought she might be trembling the slightest bit, but he read that as anger rather than fear.

  Unloading her gun, he tucked the weapon in the back of his waistband, pocketing the shells. He removed the pepper spray and put that in his pocket as well. Then he drove her car to the side of the road.

  In the back seat was a rich-looking, long leather coat that would no doubt match the boots and gloves. There was also an overnight-sized suitcase, a brown soft leather briefcase, what appeared to be a computer bag and two plastic sacks of brightly wrapped packages. An expensive GPS system sat on the dashboard displaying the car’s location. A set of printed directions from the Internet lay on the passenger’s seat beside a thermos.

  Lucan opened the thermos and sniffed the contents. Some sort of spiced tea if he wasn’t mistaken, still warm. A sealed plastic drinking bottle was half full of what appeared to be water. This was a woman who obviously liked backup plans.

  He checked the destination on the GPS device against the printed directions. They matched. The address was one block over. In the glove compartment, her registration was in order. The address matched the one on her driver’s license and the gun permits.

  It appeared she was telling the truth. Still, that wad of cash and the weapon were a cause for concern. While this might be nothing more than a domestic dispute, there was a little boy running around with his own wad of cash.

  Locking the car, Lucan went to where she sat and reached down to help her to her feet. She stiffened at his touch, but flowed up easily despite the skirt and heels.

  “My car’s down the street,” he told her.

  “Are you going to undo the cuffs?”

  “No.”

  “You’re really going to arrest me?” Despite her high-heeled boots, she kept pace with him easily. She had an athlete’s body. Lean and trim. He wondered if she was a runner.

  “That remains to be seen,” he answered frankly.

  He had her sit on the back seat of his car with her legs out while he ran her information. She seethed with impatience, but clamped her lips tightly against the complaint he could read so easily in her expressive features.