The Protector. Jule McBride

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      “Not really. After withdrawing the money from People’s National, your father went to Seduction Island.”

      Sully’s gaze drifted over her, as if seeking to pinpoint a chink in her armor, while she continued, “I traced the boat to the mob. The Destiny was owned by Tommy the Jaw. He was part of the Genovese crime family before he went legit.” After a heartbeat, she added, “Supposedly.”

      “You don’t believe he did?”

      She shook her head. “Once dirty, always dirty,” she pronounced.

      His jaw clenched. “Just like Pop, huh?”

      Her steady gaze seemed to confirm that that was her point of view. “Your father would have known Tommy from the old days,” she continued. “Apparently, Tommy the Jaw loaned your father the boat.”

      “Or maybe my father’s working with the mob,” Sully suggested, his tone dripping irony.

      Unfortunately, she actually considered that. “It’s not far-fetched.”

      “Oh, please,” Sully said, groaning.

      She shrugged. “I found an abandoned estate on the island. The locals call it Castle O’Lannaise, after a pirate named Jacques O’Lannaise, who supposedly haunts it. I’ve got requests in for court orders also…” She shot him a brief look of sympathy. “I’m having trouble getting paperwork through, too. So it’ll take me a couple more days to find out who holds the title. For some unknown reason, the information’s protected.”

      Sully knew exactly how her mind worked: deviously. He never knew whether to be angry or impressed. Especially since his brain worked in the exact same way, putting them on the same wavelength. “You’re thinking that, in addition to the boat, the property belongs to Tommy the Jaw and that Pop went to the island to hide out?”

      “You’re quick.”

      “If I’m ever worried about my IQ,” Sully assured her dryly, “I’ll know where to turn for an ego boost.”

      “Oh, not to worry,” she replied. “If in doubt, just start with mine and count down a few notches.”

      “That’s what I like, Judith. Your mature, seasoned wit.”

      She merely shrugged. “Castle O’Lannaise has been owned by a number of famous people in the past.” The expression in her eyes turned serious. “The property’s handled by a law firm, and even the Realtor, Pansy Hanley, doesn’t know who owns it. It’s been up for sale for a while, and now Ms. Hanley’s got a buyer. The place is expensive, worth millions.”

      Somewhere in the neighborhood of four-point-five, according to Rex. Sully wasn’t about to share the information with Judith, but it was Sully’s brother who was doing the nibbling. While looking for Augustus on Seduction Island, Rex had fallen in love with Pansy Hanley and proposed. Once they were married, Rex intended to leave Manhattan, move to the island and use his part of the lottery money to restore Castle O’Lannaise.

      Which meant, in addition to everything else plaguing Sully’s life, the pressure was on for him to find a bride. How had his little brothers—two men with absolutely no prospects—gone from committed bachelors to being engaged in just a matter of months?

      His mind straying even further afield, Sully thought of the letters he’d been exchanging with his mystery woman. Who would have imagined a local woman would find the bottle he’d tossed into the Hudson? Maybe this really was destiny. Maybe she’d be the one. The woman who was writing to him sounded so alive and passionate, and in his last letter, Sully had asked her to consider meeting him.

      “Steele?”

      He realized Judith was peering at him with uncharacteristic concern. “Hmm?”

      “Are you paying attention?”

      He refocused his attention on her. “Absolutely. I figure the money’s hidden somewhere on Seduction Island,” he speculated. “I figure that’s why Pop went there, but your idea that he’s in cahoots with the mob is ridiculous.”

      She hesitated. “I don’t think the money’s on the island.”

      She definitely knew something. “Why not?”

      She hesitated so long that he felt sure she’d found some hard evidence against his father. Or at least something that appeared to be evidence. Judith wouldn’t be this confident unless she’d found something she could use against the Steeles in a court of law. “What do you know, Judith?”

      She shrugged, a lift of one delicate shoulder that shifted the sexy lace beneath her blouse. “Nothing.”

      Either the heat was getting to him or the lies were. “I think Pop hid the money on the island,” he persisted, “to keep it safe.”

      “Oh really? I wouldn’t have expected something so fanciful from an old cynic like you.”

      An old cynic? Was that what Judith thought of him? “You don’t know anything about me,” Sully found himself saying. His family was worried sick, and this woman was withholding information, playing games. “You see a suit and tie. What I look like behind a desk. Or when I give orders.”

      Her dark blue eyes were suddenly boring into his, vivid against the unbelievably creamy, pale skin of her oval face. “I see,” she said dryly. “You’re saying that Sullivan Steele—the man, not the cop—is different?”

      It was exactly what he was saying. But how had they wound up in this conversation? Before he could ask, she said, “Your father’s guilty, Steele. If you know that, but aren’t telling me, then you’ll wind up prosecuted. And if you don’t know it, and can’t accept it, I understand.” He could swear her hard, crimson mouth actually softened, and for the briefest second, it looked kissable. “It’s…difficult when people you love do something wrong.”

      The last thing he wanted was sympathy. “I want proof, Judith,” he said, thinking she definitely wouldn’t be this confident unless she’d found something. “Tell me,” he demanded. “Why are you so sure he’s guilty?”

      “The videos that show your father taking the money aside?” she asked. “My sixth sense.”

      “Well, your sixth sense about the Steeles is wrong.”

      Challenge sparked in her eyes. “On that matter,” she retorted, echoing his words, “I want proof.”

      There was only one way. “Fine.”

      She looked stunned. “You have proof your father’s innocent?”

      “Come over for dinner.”

      It was the last thing she expected. “To your house?” Laughter bubbled between her lips, and she gaped at him incredulously. “Dinner? Are you serious, Steele?”

      It was the only way to convince her of his family’s integrity. “Aren’t you curious?” Unable to stop himself, he stalked closer, his voice lowering seductively as he edged in front of her. “Don’t you want to observe the criminals at home?” he prodded, an almost playful smile tilting his lips. “See what we eat? How we interact?”

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