Dani Sinclair - Police Protector

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. 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.”