The Protector

“The whole city’s having a heat wave, not just you, Steele. I’m trying to get courts orders, too. And if it bothers you so much—” she nodded toward his chest “—why don’t you take off the jacket?”

Because she was wearing one. No doubt, this was Judith’s way of finagling how to take off hers without losing face. “As a precinct captain,” he said, shooting her a quick smile, “I have a certain image to project.” Image? he thought. Of what? A sweating pig? Every man in the squad room knew Sully never wore a jacket unless the parking attendant called to say Judith was on her way up.

“Isn’t it substance we need to concern ourselves with?”

“I guess, if you feel a lack of it.”

“Which brings me to your father.”

“Nice segue.”

“Thanks.” With a sudden sharp inhalation, Judith took him by surprise and did the unthinkable: she shrugged out of her jacket. When Sully saw the airy white, short-sleeved blouse beneath, he suddenly felt much more amiable. It was nearly transparent, and the white lace of a bra was visible beneath. The temperature in the room, already boiling, seemed to crank up another few notches, not that Sully minded now.

“That’s why I came up to see you, Steele,” she reminded him. “Your father.”

He wished she had some news. Rex had found a man on the island who’d talked to their pop after the Destiny exploded, but nevertheless, Sheila was beside herself. Trying to keep emotion from his voice, Sully said, “Honestly, have you found something out, Judith?”

“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?”

The interest in her eyes shouldn’t have intrigued him, and when it did, Sully admitted that he sometimes wished Judith Hunt would express the sort of interest his mystery lady had. But with Judith, it was always the case. She’d phoned him from Seduction Island, and yet she’d never ventured anything personal—not even once. Didn’t she have any human curiosity?

“You’re inviting me into the den of iniquity, huh?” Her eyes locked with his. Maybe he shouldn’t have felt quite so breathless when she said, “You’re on, Steele. Name your time.”

“Sunday dinner. We always have it at my folks’ place.” Everybody loved Sheila. This particular weekend Pansy Hanley was coming in from Seduction Island to see Rex, her fiancé, and meet and support Sheila. Truman and his fiancée, Trudy, would be there also. Sully gave the address. “Should I write it down?”

Judith shook her head. “I have excellent recall.”

“Funny,” he said. “Because you don’t seem to be recalling whatever new information you’ve found out about my father.”

The guilt crossing her features further convinced him she was withholding something. Given how he felt about that, Sully had no idea what compelled him to say, “Maybe I should just pick you up?”

“We’ll see.”

“You’ll let me know?”

“Sure. One way or another, I’ll see you Sunday, Steele.”

As usual, he watched her go, this time mulling over how little they’d accomplished during this particular visit. Shrugging out of the oppressive jacket he’d felt compelled to don, he replayed everything that had just occurred. Judith definitely knew something, which meant he needed bargaining power. Sully hated to fight dirty, especially with such a beautiful woman, but this time it was necessary. He called to Nat, his desk sergeant.

“I want you to do some research on Ms. Hunt,” Sully said when he appeared in the doorway.

Nat’s lips parted in surprise, and he thrust a hand worriedly through the shock of wavy black hair that matched his sparkling eyes. “What are you looking for?”

“Anything I can use if I have to,” Sully said simply. “She knows something about Pop, and I need to know what it is.”

“But we’re so busy around here—”

“No rush. Whenever you’ve got a minute.”

“I’ll see what I can turn up.”

Good. Maybe by the time Judith came for dinner, Sully would know more about her. A vision of her blouse came back to him—open at the throat, fluttering against creamy skin. At one point, just beneath it, he’d glimpsed the cup of her bra, and like some horny teenager, he’d actually felt himself starting to get hard. He wasn’t proud of it, but the moment had made him think of seduction. After all, Sully was extremely good at seduction…and seduction was another way of getting information from a woman.

“DINNER WITH Sullivan Steele,” Judith murmured that night as she stepped from a cool bath. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the aromatic mist of her scented bath oil, as well as the fresh flowers she’d placed on the edge of the tub, using the amber genie bottle as a vase. “Have I lost my mind?”

Slipping into a white silk robe, she knotted it around her waist and headed for the living room, stepping on what had to be the greatest sin in Manhattan—a white carpet. Quite the luxury in a city where everything became dirty so easily. Vaguely, Judith wondered what Sullivan Steele would think if he ever saw it. It was tempting to bring him here, if only to shock him, since he obviously thought she was such a prude.

Trouble was, he was right, she thought, heat flooding her cheeks. Besides, because she didn’t socialize much outside work, her nerves would be frazzled if he ever came here. Her correspondent, by contrast, wouldn’t be nearly as unsettling a houseguest. The man who’d sent the message in a bottle seemed so kind and accepting, so willing to slowly build trust.

But now she’d been invited into the Steeles’ world. Because Sullivan had invited her, it was a good guess that he didn’t know his mother’s bank balance had recently swollen to the unbelievable sum of fifteen million dollars. But then, this could be a ploy to make Judith think he didn’t know his mother was probably involved in the Citizens Action Committee theft. Why else would she have so much money in the bank?

What if he really had no knowledge, though?

Guilt gnawing at her, Judith tried to imagine how Sullivan would feel if he discovered those closest to him were criminals. He’d be crushed. Fortunately, spending an evening with the Steeles would clarify things.

Passing a brocade sofa strewn with pillows, Judith sat at a desk and withdrew the letter from her handbag once more. Her eyes trailed over the words.

Lady, can we meet? When I tossed the bottle into the Hudson, I imagined it being found years from now, by a woman in another country.

The man sounded so heartfelt, so emotional. She sighed. So unlike Sullivan Steele. She got out a sheet of stationery, then merely sat there, pen poised over the paper, wondering how to reply. Searching for inspiration, she stared through a window at the busy street below and felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the milling crowds and honking horns.

Judith couldn’t stand the quiet. Only Manhattan, with its noisy throngs, made her feel safe. There were always people here. A barely conscious voice played beneath her thoughts. Always people to turn to for help.

She’d come so far. She was thousands of miles from the farm in the Midwest where she’d grown up. Even now she felt a slight jolt of panic when she recalled the long road leading to the farmhouse, the isolation, how dark it looked at night with no other visible house lights.

She shuddered. For a second, the years between her and that house seemed to vanish, and she quickly reminded herself that she’d lost her accent, put herself through college and a law degree, and started over in this city of strangers. Outside, the countless lights—white headlights, red taillights and the cozy yellow glow from inside apartments—came together in a wash of warm color. Only then did Judith register that her vision was blurry because tears had filled her eyes. She blinked them back. She hadn’t seen her mother or stepfather for years. Was she ready to risk betrayal and bring love into her life?

Pushing aside the question, she focused on two lovers below the window, happily holding hands as they walked along the crowded sidewalk. Her next thought was that Sheila Steele lived just around the corner. No doubt Sullivan lived nearby, too, since most officers, especially captains, lived in or near their precincts. In this city, he could have lived in the same building with Judith for years and she might never have realized it.

Sighing, she thought about Sullivan. He was thirty-seven. She knew because she’d checked his records, and judging by the hard glint in his knowing eyes, he was cynical and not getting any younger. Gray wisps painted the tips of the honey strands of his hair, and crow’s-feet were visible at the corners of his eyes, giving his face a rugged, weathered look. He was sexy, too—sexy as sin.

But she wondered if she looked as cynical as he. Her eyes drifted to the letter again. There was a seemingly nice man out there who liked how her personality sounded in the letters she’d written to him. Was she ready to meet him?

At the thought, abrupt, unexpected pain seared through her. For an instant, all the trauma of her past came racing back, and she felt alone, betrayed and broken. So alone, she thought. As if the whole world had been hollowed out and she’d been left in the emptiness. Every time she started to hope someone might love her, she was filled with pain—because with the hope of that came the fear of loss. It was so hard to admit how much she needed love….

She hadn’t mentioned her past to her correspondent, of course. She never would. But maybe she could open up to him just a little. If she didn’t start making an effort, she was going to wind up like Sullivan Steele, unmarried and hardened by a cop’s life. Guilt niggled at her again. Was her investigation going to shatter his trust in his parents? The way her own trust had been shattered?

She stared down at the letter again. If she agreed to meet her mystery man, at least she knew she’d be physically safe. She was well-trained in tai kwon doe, not to mention good old-fashioned street fighting. She also carried a gun.

Picking up a pen, she began to write.

Dear Mr. X,

I hope you don’t mind the name, but I never know what to call you. Maybe you’ll share your real name with me soon when we meet? Yes, I’ve given it some thought and think we should.

Pausing, Judith mulled over a date and place.

She wanted her next encounter with Sullivan Steele out of the way first, and because she was consumed with searching for his father, she’d be preoccupied the following week.

If I don’t hear from you, I’ll meet you on the Saturday after this coming one. At five-thirty in the evening, I’ll be in Central Park, on the bridge in front of Bethesda Fountain, overlooking the boathouse. I’m tall, with dark hair, and I’ll be wearing a red silk scarf, so you’ll know who I am.

And then, her heart pounding, Judith quickly sealed and stamped the letter before she could change her mind. It was time to move on from her past. She’d learned how to survive. How to make a good living. She was at the top of her profession.

Now she had to acknowledge that love was out there in the world, just waiting for her. The magical experience of finding a message in a bottle had started to convince her of that. What an unlikely thing to have happen!

Judith could only hope she’d be able to meet her mystery man with an open heart.

3

“HAVE YOU CHANGED your mind about us Steeles yet?” Sullivan asked as he and Judith strolled along the stone pathway that wound through the lush, thriving courtyard garden his mother tended behind the family’s three-story brownstone. By design, they’d dined late, after the sun went down, and they’d eaten dinner at a round glass table, where Sullivan’s brothers and their fiancées were still talking with Sheila, sipping ice-cold margaritas until they felt ready for dessert.

“I came to observe,” Judith said, “not draw conclusions—”

“How clinical. I feel like a lab specimen.”

“You may not like it, but that’s not far from the truth, Steele.” The cold fried chicken and Waldorf salad Sheila Steele served for dinner had calmed Judith’s nerves and mitigated her caustic tone, though not the words that came under her breath, so only Sullivan could hear. “And if anything, your lifestyle’s made me even more suspicious,” she admitted.

“Lifestyle?” He had the audacity to chuckle, and when the genuine merriment was undercut by the intensity of his gaze, Judith was reminded of their situation. Sullivan might be the perfect host, but he’d invited her here with an agenda—to get closer to her, so he could monitor the case. “Does that mean you find more than our humble home suspicious, Judith?”

“Humble home,” she muttered, slipping a finger beneath her hair to lift it off her neck for relief from the heat. “This is a mansion, Steele.” She made a point of eyeing him. “And look at your suit.” During dinner, he’d removed the jacket, but even wearing only a well-tailored shirt and tan, finely woven linen trousers that matched his hair and eyes, Sullivan looked every inch the king of the manor.

“My ex-girlfriend helped pick it out,” he explained defensively.

“Good taste.”

“Thanks.”

She was more curious than she wanted to admit. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Most men have them.”

“Did she break your heart?”

“Since when did you decide I have a heart, Judith?”

“Be serious.”

He considered. “We dated a long time, but…” Barely perceptibly, he raised his shoulders in a shrug, as if to say the relationship wasn’t one he’d thought about in some time.

“Bottom line,” she said.

“Not enough sparks.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You? Boyfriend?”

“Never,” she deadpanned, telling herself she hardly wanted to contemplate what enough sparks might mean for Sullivan Steele. Seeing his doubtful glance, she felt something unexpected and sharp pierce her insides. For the next second, it hurt just to breathe. She was beautiful; Judith knew that. She had thick dark hair, an arresting face and china-white, unblemished skin. Men had always chased her, many hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer, and most had assumed she had a lot of experience, which she didn’t.

For the duration of a heartbeat, she found herself wishing Sullivan was just a tad sharper, enough to see through her carefully erected facade. Deep down, that was her wish, wasn’t it? she admitted, her heart aching. Didn’t she want someone to break through her defenses and teach her to love again? Pipe dreams, she thought. In her experience men only got close enough to find out she was skittish around them, then they dropped her.

Sully was squinting at her. “Never?

When she brought her attention back to his face, she tried not to notice the soft, teasing light shining from eyes that were usually harder and more suspicious, and the playful lift of a mouth that was usually compressed into a serious line—at the precinct, anyway. “You’re the one who’s under suspicion, Steele, not me.”

“And what have you found out tonight?”

She was still surveying those eyes, that mouth. “That you soften at home,” she said honestly.

“Is that right?”

She nodded. “Like a teddy bear. But then,” she added, “looks can lie. Besides, a cop’s salary didn’t buy all this.”

He shot her a look of mock disappointment, shifting the subject. “So, your interest in my ex-girlfriend is strictly business?”

“What else could it be?” Judith rolled her eyes as they continued walking, surprised to find herself growing more comfortable in the summer heat and with the equally hot sensual undercurrents flowing between her and Sullivan. “Have you forgotten I’m trying to put your father where the sun doesn’t shine?”

“You’ll never get the chance. I won’t bother again to say he’s innocent. I’m starting to sound like a broken record.”

“You’re awfully sure of your point of view,” she noted. “Haven’t you heard—pride goeth before a fall?”

“I’m confident, not prideful. And I don’t fall, Judith.”

“Never?” she asked, echoing his words.

“Never.”

He definitely looked confident. He always looked confident. “If you ask me, you’re a little too smug tonight. Too self-satisfied. What are you keeping from me?”

He looked surprised, then shrugged. “I just found out I’m going to meet someone…” those amber eyes glanced away “…a woman with whom I’ve had some contact, but never a face-to-face.”

“A work contact?”

He paused. “Personal.”

Not about to give the impression that she was interested in Sullivan’s love life, Judith decided not to probe, but she was caught off-guard by the sudden warmth flooding her. After all, she was in a similar situation. She’d just received a letter from the man with whom she’d been corresponding, and now his words played in her mind. I can’t believe you picked the bridge by Bethesda Fountain as our meeting place. When I was a kid, I learned to roller-skate there, and we—by we, I mean my parents and brothers—always stopped on that bridge for hot pretzels when we visited the Central Park Zoo. Believe it or not, when I’m stumped, I still go there, just to think. The bridge has been special to me for years….

She felt the same way, but for different reasons. Years ago, when she’d first come to Manhattan, she’d stood there, staring down at the pond, fountain and boathouse, and she’d made hard decisions about her future. Then she’d walked down to the fountain and tossed in pennies—nearly all the money she’d had at the time—and she’d made the wish that had guided her ever since, to follow in the footsteps of people who fought for justice.

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