Police Protector

“Preparing to kiss you.”

“You have to prepare?”

Lucan’s low chuckle sent waves of passion flowing through her blood.

“To do it right.”

His hand closed around her back. He drew her in slowly, giving her time to change her mind.

As if.

He crushed her against the hardness of his body and took possession of her mouth. She was moaning deep in her throat as she mashed herself against him, trying to get closer. She ran her hands over his back, tangling in the softness of his still damp hair. She could feel the hard thrust of him as their bodies sought a closeness barred by clothing.

He pulled her head gently against his shoulder, stroking her hair then cupping the back of her head. “I don’t want to hurt you and I’m losing control.”

His voice was rough, thick with need. She smiled against his sweatshirt and lifted her face. “You won’t hurt me. You would never hurt me.”

Police Protector

Dani Sinclair

For my mother, Ruth Ann, who shares much in common

with Maureen O’Shay, including a deep love of family.

And for Roger, Chip, Dan and Barb as always

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

An avid reader, Dani Sinclair didn’t discover romance novels until her mother loaned her one when she’d come for a visit. Dani’s been hooked on the genre ever since, but she didn’t take up writing seriously until her two sons were grown. With the premiere of Mystery Baby for Harlequin Intrigue in 1996, Dani’s kept her computer busy ever since. She’s a two-time RITA® Award finalist, for Better Watch Out in 1998 and Midnight Prince in 2008. Dani lives outside Washington, D.C., a place she’s found to be a great source for both intrigue and humor!

You can write to her in care of the Harlequin Reader Service.

Contents

Cast of Characters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Lucan O’Shay—The detective has been working overtime to catch a gang of thieves. Now he has to find a kid who’s running around with hundred dollar bills in his backpack.

Kyra Wolfstead—She knew something was wrong at her sister’s, but she never expected to drive into town and find her eight-year-old nephew being arrested on the street.

Kip Bowman—The eight-year-old has his younger siblings, Brian and Maggie, to protect. He intends to do just that, no matter what.

Casey Fillmont—Kyra’s older sister is missing and her house has been ransacked. Her new husband, Jordan, and her ex are missing, as well.

Jordan Fillmont—Everyone claims to like the personable man who worked in the pro shop at the Oak Forest Country Club. So where is he?

Milt Bowman—Casey’s ex-husband is a nice guy…until he starts drinking.

Louis Ventner—The general manager at Oak Forest Country Club is concerned about his missing employee.

Ralph Montgomery—Ventner’s assistant doesn’t like all the police attention the club is generating.

Bobby Krinegolt—The country club’s gofer sees everything that goes on.

Maureen O’Shay—Lucan’s mother is happy to take three children and their aunt under her wing.

Simon Testier—Kyra’s ex-boyfriend won’t take no for an answer.

Chapter One

Christmas carols played on the overhead speakers as Lucan O’Shay stepped to one side of the drink dispenser. He watched a young boy move down the aisle of the local convenience store. No one in the busy store paid any attention to the dark-haired boy with the green backpack.

The kid couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old, and he looked as if he hadn’t bathed or changed his clothes in days. His jeans were of good quality, but stained and rumpled. It appeared as if he’d slept in his winter coat, and his hair and skin were badly in need of soap and water. He was thin, though not overly skinny. In fact there was nothing remarkable about the boy except for the furtive way his eyes darted about the area around him, as if he were afraid.

Lucan tensed as the boy picked up a bag of cookies, a box of cereal and a jar of peanut butter. All disappeared into the backpack at his feet so smoothly that even watching him, Lucan had to blink. The kid moved on, effortlessly adding a small container of milk and a bag of potato chips and carefully selecting three chocolate Santas and a box of candy canes.

Stealing? But the manager had said—

Before Lucan could shift position, the boy was in line at the register behind a sweaty construction worker. He was careful not to meet anyone’s eyes. Lucan waited to see what the boy would do. Behind the counter, Salman’s gaze met Lucan’s. The manager inclined his head as the boy very carefully pulled each item from his backpack and set it on the counter.

Salman was outgoing and friendly with all his customers, but his efforts to make conversation with the boy netted him only a shake of the kid’s head or a shrug. The boy wouldn’t look at him.

“No bag.” His voice betrayed his nerves, as did the way he shifted from foot to foot. Obviously, he wanted to pay and leave as quickly as possible.

Salman returned each item to the backpack. Even though he’d told Lucan what to expect, Lucan’s jaw dropped as the boy pulled out what appeared to be an amazing wad of bills from the deep pocket of his coat. He peeled off a one-hundred-dollar bill from the top and handed it to the clerk with a grubby hand.

The boy shoved the change into his backpack without counting it. He sealed the pack with a speed and economy of motion that was impressive. Hefting the pack, he looked up and met Lucan’s gaze. Wary eyes filled with panic. He dashed for the door.

Lucan swore under his breath and began to move. Being a plainclothes police detective, he wasn’t wearing a uniform. He shouldn’t have spooked the kid. And now he was impeded by the people and shelves still between them. The boy took full advantage. By the time Lucan reached the main door, the boy was disappearing around the back of the building.

Lucan sprinted after him. “Hey, wait up a minute!”

The boy never paused. He was through a narrow hole in the crumbling stockade fence behind the building in seconds. Lucan eyed the fence and hesitated. The missing boards were wide enough for the child, but not for him. The remaining fence would never support his weight.

His own house was only a few blocks over, and being a runner, Lucan knew the neighborhood well. Yet despite his speed and longer legs, there was no sign of the boy when Lucan reached the street behind the store. The row of brand-new townhouses gave way to the original development where Lucan’s home was located.

The boy couldn’t have gone far. Lucan began searching the area but there was no sign of him. If the boy had gone into one of the houses, there was nothing to tell him which one. A cold wind whipped over his face as he searched the yards. He was certain the boy had ducked in somewhere nearby. Only when a middle-aged woman holding a cell phone stepped out onto her deck demanding to know what he was doing in her yard messing with her Christmas lights did Lucan concede defeat. Flashing his police badge, he apologized for disturbing her and asked about the boy he’d been pursing.

Lips pursed, she told him she didn’t know anyone matching that description. She hadn’t seen a child like that and she wanted him out of her yard immediately. Lucan returned to the store, where only one other customer remained.

The man paid for his purchase and left. Even so, Salman looked around and lowered his voice when Lucan approached. “He got away?”

“Unfortunately,” Lucan admitted ruefully. “He went through the hole in the fence out back.”

“I told corporate about that fence. They say it is not their responsibility. The builder put up the fence during construction, so it belongs to the townhouses behind us. Yet the neighbors say it is not their responsibility. What am I to do?” He handed Lucan the hundred-dollar bill the boy had used to pay for his food. “It is real?”

Lucan examined the bill with a frown. “Looks like it to me, but I’m no expert. You said the bank told you the other bills were fine.”

Salman nodded. “But a boy like that should not be carrying so much money.”

“You got that right. I’ll run the serial number just to check, but there’s nothing illegal about a boy paying for items with a large bill.”

The clerk nodded glumly. “This I know, but there is something wrong.”

“Yeah,” Lucan agreed, remembering the fear. “How often does he come in?”

“Every day since Sunday. First it was candy and cookies. Then he started buying bread and other items, as you saw. Sunday is my day off, but Ranji tells me that was the day it began.”

“And he always pays with a hundred-dollar bill like this one?”

“Yes. That is why I told you about him when you came in today. It is odd. The boy always waits until I am busy, like he did this time. I try to talk to him, but he says nothing. He is very quick.”

“I saw how fast he made stuff disappear inside that backpack. Be glad he isn’t stealing.”

Salman eyed the bill in his hand. “But did he steal this money?”

“Good question. He’s definitely afraid of something. Had you seen him in here before he started paying with big bills?”

“No. Never that I can remember. Many neighborhood children come in with and without their parents. One or two have taken something without paying, but most do not. He is not one of the children that I know.”

Lucan thought for a moment. “Were any of those townhouses up for sale recently—or unoccupied?”

“This I do not know. Do you not live nearby?”

Lucan rubbed his jaw, feeling tired. “I do, but I’ve been pulling double shifts lately. When I’ve had time to go out running I haven’t been paying attention. Since you don’t recognize him, I’m thinking the kid may be new to the area.”

Salman shrugged and Lucan tapped the counter absently. How had a boy of that age come by even one bill of that denomination, let alone those he’d already spent, unless he’d stolen them? This was Wednesday. The kid had been flashing that wad of hundred dollar bills for four days.

He opened his wallet and pulled out a business card. Writing his cell phone number on the back, he handed it to the clerk. “My office number and my cell phone number. Call me if you see him again.”

Salman scowled. “You will arrest him?”

“No. He hasn’t done anything illegal that we know about. I just want to talk to him and to his parents. There may be a reason he’s carrying that kind of cash, but it’s dangerous.”

“You do not think he stole the money?” Salman repeated the question, frowning intently.

Lucan shrugged. “I don’t know, Salman. I’d be more inclined to think that was the case if he was buying junk food and toys, but he picked up peanut butter and bread and even milk. That sounds like hunger to me. His clothing is dirty, and so is he.”

And what were the odds the kid had been abandoned?

“He wore the same pants yesterday,” Salman confirmed. “Perhaps even the day before, I do not recall for certain.”

Lucan knew his frown matched the clerk’s. “I’m glad you told me about him when I came in. Like you, I think something is wrong at home. I just want to be sure the kid is safe. If something is wrong, we’ll intervene for his sake.”

Salman shook his head, looking even more worried. “I do not want to cause any trouble.”

“Neither do I, Salman. Neither do I. Call me if you see him again.”

“Yes, that I will do,” the clerk promised unhappily as he pocketed Lucan’s card.

Lucan’s gaze swept the area as he walked back to his car. He didn’t really expect to see the boy again, but he needed to start paying attention to his surroundings. Being tired was no excuse for getting sloppy. The last time he’d been sloppy he’d taken two slugs to the chest and spent months recovering.

Lucan pinched the bridge of his nose before putting the car in gear. A recent spate of robberies had culminated in the murder of a local socialite. The press and politicians were screaming. The entire department was on overtime, and they didn’t have a single clue to the thieves’ identities. He’d had to cancel his date with Jennifer for the fifth night running. Now she wasn’t taking his calls.

Probably he should be more upset. Jennifer was a lot of fun. On the other hand, if she didn’t understand what it meant to date a cop, then it was time for him to find a new companion. There was always that nurse who worked with his sister-in-law, Sally. What was her name? Nancy? Nina? Something along those lines. The woman was attractive, and she’d put out plenty of signals that she was interested. The only drawback was that she was a friend of Sally’s.

Lucan made it a policy to stay away from friends of family members. They tended to expect their relationships to lead to something permanent. He’d been there and done that and had the divorce papers to prove it. Happily-ever-after only happened in fairy tales. He was no longer interested in anyone with commitment in their eyes.

Abruptly, Lucan realized he was pulling up in front of his house. He hadn’t noticed a single thing on the drive home. He swore softly and blinked. There was no missing the fancy sports car with the vanity plate parked in his driveway. Nor could he miss the heavily pregnant woman shutting his front door and locking it before hurrying back toward the driveway. In the twinkling Christmas lights from the houses on either side of his, he could clearly see her stomach bulging beneath the coat she wore unbuttoned. She looked up and paused when she saw his car.

Lucan parked at the curb and got out to greet his sister-in-law. “Hey, Whitney, what’s the rush?”

She shook her head and smiled a greeting. “What are you doing home at this hour?”

“It’s six forty-four. My shift was over at three.”

“Since when do you punch a time clock?”

“I don’t. That’s why it’s six forty-four. Dropping off another care package from Mom, I hope?”

She nodded. “Lasagna, garlic bread and a tossed salad with brownies for desert.”

His mouth watered. His Irish mother was an accomplished cook and he knew she was convinced that her only still-single son was going starve to death, since he didn’t have a woman of his own to feed him. As a result, she sent frequent meals his way.

“I stopped by to see her on my way home from work,” Whitney continued. “She was going to bring it over herself, but she said she was running late so I offered to do it for her since I had to come this way anyhow. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Are you kidding? Home-cooked food? I’m thrilled.”

Whitney smiled back at him. “I put the lasagna and the salad in the refrigerator since I didn’t know when you’d get here, but the lasagna is still warm. Everything else is on the counter,” Whitney continued. “If I hadn’t offered to come over here for her, maybe the two of you could have had dinner together.”

He winced. “Thanks for the subtle hint. I meant to go by and see her earlier this week, but I’ve been so busy….”

“Don’t be daft. O’Shays don’t do subtle. I know. I married one.”

“And we’re all glad of it, but you’d better watch out, Mom’s brogue is rubbing off on you.”

Whitney grinned impishly. “Your mother made enough to feed an army—or you and your three brothers.”

Lucan chuckled. “They aren’t invited, but you’re welcome to join me. Flynn’s working today isn’t he?” As a fireman, his youngest brother’s shift would keep him at the station overnight.

“He is, but I can’t stay. I promised my dad and Ruby I’d come by their place for a late supper.” She tossed her brownish-blond hair back over her shoulders. “Your mom’s worried about you, you know. She says you’re working too hard.”

“Tell it to the press. They think we’re sitting on our hands with this murder. Money talks, you know, and it doesn’t hurt that the woman’s husband knows everyone on the county council.”

He heard the bitterness in his voice and stopped before he really vented about the pressure the force was under to find the thieves-turned-killers working the area. “Besides, you know how my mother likes to worry. I’m surprised she isn’t mother-henning you to death about the baby.”

“Your mother’s great, as you well know, and the baby is on schedule. I’ve got a week yet and Flynn and I are as ready as we’re going to be.” She patted her rounded stomach. “Hear that, baby? You can come out now.”

“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?”