The Protector

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.