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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?”
“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.”
