The Protector. Jule McBride

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СКАЧАТЬ breath. Every time she thought of Sullivan, she felt tied up in knots. She wanted to believe he knew nothing about his father’s disappearance, but she also knew she was on a case and couldn’t trust him….

      The middle brother, Rex, hadn’t been any help, either. Her first day on Seduction Island, she’d threatened to prosecute if he continued interfering with the investigation. Then she hadn’t seen him again until yesterday, when she was preparing to come back to Manhattan. Even though he’d pretended otherwise, she was sure Rex had remained on the island, searching for his father. Had Augustus been there? Had Rex found him? At some point, had the missing money been hidden on the island, as Judith now suspected?

      She shot a rueful smile through the windshield, as if it were a crystal ball. Well, even if the money had been on the island, it no longer was. She hadn’t told anyone, not even her boss, Joe Gregory, but she’d finally found it.

      Her best guess was that Sullivan’s father had withdrawn the money, then hidden it on Seduction Island. After a few weeks, Augustus had gotten paranoid, as criminals always did. Fearing the money would be discovered, he’d retrieved it and returned it to Manhattan. Judith had found it tucked away in a Manhattan savings and loan—in Augustus’s wife’s name, no less. Possibly, Augustus had blown up the Destiny himself, so people would think he was dead. That way, no one would look for him.

      Complicated, yes. But like any knotted thing, the trail could be untangled. Over the past few weeks, Judith had slowly, painstakingly been working at the slippery strands. Now she was beginning to think Augustus Steele really was dead—not that she’d tell Sullivan that. But Augustus had been aboard a boat that exploded, after all, and then he’d simply vanished. What if he’d meant to fake his death, but had actually died in the process?

      “Unbelievable,” she whispered now. Her head was starting to ache from thinking too much. Apparently Augustus had stolen far more than seven million, since the account in Sheila Steele’s name had recently swollen to more than double the sum missing from the Citizens Action Committee fund.

      “Fifteen million dollars,” Judith whispered.

      Who knew how long Augustus had been skimming public money off the top? “A hundred grand here, a hundred grand there,” she murmured. All nicely invested over the years—until Augustus’s retirement neared and he decided to make a final heist and grab seven big ones—and more.

      All this time, Judith’s boss, Joe Gregory, had been suggesting she explore more intricate ways Augustus might have hidden the money. The idea that he’d simply rebanked it in his wife’s name had never been considered. No law enforcement officer would do something so stupid.

      Which was why it had worked.

      It had taken Judith a month to figure it out. “The Steeles sure live dangerously,” she whispered. Especially Sullivan. At least he looked like the type. Her gut tightened as she thought of his imposing frame. Square-jawed, tall and broad-shouldered, he looked like a rich frat boy, except for his eyes. Too probing and intelligent, they set him apart from the macho cops who’d taken the job for their ego, because they liked carrying guns.

      Sullivan was another breed. He reeked tenacity and competency, and yet Judith knew she’d be a fool to trust him. He aroused her curiosity, though, and even she could admit that the interest wasn’t entirely case-related. Sometimes, in his office, she’d catch her eyes drifting over him, taking in the tapering V of his upper body, the flat belly beneath his shirt, and how the drape of his trousers accentuated long, well-muscled legs. A sudden shudder would ripple through her.

      Well, today, no matter how his imposing physicality and challenging attitude tempted her, she wasn’t going to tell him she’d found fifteen million dollars in his mother’s account. No, Judith would patiently await the court order she’d filed, since it might allow her to delve more deeply, connecting the money in Sheila’s account to that stolen from the Citizens Action Committee fund.

      And presto, she thought. Her case would be solved.

      Unfortunately, as her hand curled over the door handle, she felt a stab of unwanted guilt as she thought of the amber fire burning in Sullivan Steele’s eyes. At times, she was utterly convinced he thought his father was innocent. If so, she was going to have to shatter his trust in a man he loved. She swallowed hard, since she knew better than anyone what shattered trust could do.

      “Let’s do it,” she said grimly. The sooner she started, the sooner this would be over. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her jacket, groaning as she shrugged into it. Leave it to Sullivan to force her to wear a jacket in this heat. But she simply couldn’t go into his office without it. After all, he always wore one, even in public buildings, which were kept at temperatures approaching the boiling point.

      As she lifted her shoulder bag, she realized it was unclasped, and a soft smile curled her lips as she impulsively plucked out an envelope. Suddenly, her heart missed a beat, skipping with excitement as she thought back to the day she’d found the bottle.

      She’d been on the Perry Street pier, where she’d taken a walk after a predictably rocky encounter with Sullivan, when she’d first noticed the pale amber bottle caught in an eddy against the Hudson shore, kept in place by rocks and driftwood. Seeing paper rolled inside, Judith had gingerly made her way down the hilly embankment, despite the high heels she’d been wearing, and had lifted the bottle from the water.

      She would never forget the magical rush of elation she’d felt when she read the letter inside. “Dear Lady of my Dreams,” were the opening words, and the sender was like no man she’d ever known. He sounded sensitive, kind and passionate. Before writing him, Judith had put a trace on his P.O. box, of course, but she’d come up empty-handed, something she’d decided was good. Of course, if she really had to, she could flash her badge at the post office and get the information. She was just glad that, like her, the sender was cautious and self-protective, which meant he was a realist. She, too, had an untraceable box, though she didn’t usually use it for love letters, but so that officers could report confidential information about their precincts.

      This letter had been in her box today. Her eyes trailed over the words.

      Lady, can we meet? When I tossed the bottle into the Hudson, I imagined it being found years from now, by a woman in another country. I never guessed it might simply wash up on shore, and be answered by someone in New York, or that we’d start corresponding. Of course, we haven’t gotten specific about the details of our lives—what we do professionally, or where we live….

      Judith had intentionally withheld those details, and she suspected her pen pal had done so also, since details would make it easy to figure out their identities. Neither of them, it seemed, were very inclined to take risks.

      Was she ready to do so now?

      Her heart ached. After all these years, was a man about to come into her life? She’d never have sought that out; she’d been running too long from a background she wanted to keep buried in the past. But now…

      No. Judith shook her head. She didn’t dare agree to meet him. Pushing the envelope into her bag, she fastened the clasp, slung the strap over her shoulder, then stepped into the stifling heat. “I’m here to see Captain Steele,” she announced when she reached the attendant’s booth and pressed her badge against the glass window.

      As he picked up a telephone, the attendant said, “I’ll let him know you’re here, Ms. Hunt.” And then he buzzed her inside.

      SULLY BARELY MANAGED to shrug into his jacket before Judith swept into his office, and having to put it on solely for her benefit was seriously worsening СКАЧАТЬ