Police Protector

“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.”