Police Protector. Dani Sinclair

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 added.

      “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. СКАЧАТЬ