The Cop. Cara SummersЧитать онлайн книгу.
on>
The Cop
Cara Summers
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
To my fellow New York Princesses—
Sarah, Emma, Julie and Janet!
Let’s have another wicked adventure soon!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Prologue
AS THE FIRST RAYS of the rising sun began to color the sky, Cassandra Angelis hurried through her garden and prepared to look into the future. Her abilities as a seer often strengthened at the time when night surrendered to day. She was banking on that because she needed all her powers this weekend.
The certainty of that thought quickened her pace as she moved along the path. The ability to “see” had always run in her family. Her great-grandmother had claimed that the power could be traced back to Apollo’s priestess, the Oracle at Delphi, who had inhaled the scent of burning laurel leaves before she made her predictions. Cass couldn’t testify to that, but she burned laurel leaves once in a while, just in case.
For a month, she’d known that the days surrounding the full moon would be pivotal for her family. At midnight, she’d seen that her youngest nephew, Kit, would face danger and death, and if he chose to follow his heart, he would also find the woman the Fates intended him for. A damsel in distress—the perfect match for an Angelis who was both a private investigator and a writer.
The choice would be his, of course. But Cass knew that of her three nephews Kit would find it easiest to listen to his heart.
A sudden chill moved through her as she finally reached the pond. The Fates were going to offer someone else in her family crucial choices this weekend. She was sure of it. The only question was who?
Sinking down on a bench, she folded her hands on her lap and tried to clear her mind. Above her in one of the trees, a squirrel began to chatter. Protesting loudly, a startled bird soared into the sky. In the lull that followed, Cass focused her gaze on the smooth surface of the pond and waited.
Ever since she’d lost her husband, Demetrius, and her sister, Penelope, in a boating accident eighteen years ago, she’d always found a kind of peace whenever she sat near the pond, perhaps because she always felt closer to Demetrius here. He’d so loved the sea.
Sometimes, she even brought clients here. Still watching the surface of the water, Cass recalled the day when her Demetrius had decided to build the pond. “A Greek has to live near the water,” he’d declared. His brother Spiro had insisted on stocking the pond with fish. “A Greek has to have somewhere close to fish.”
She and Penelope had met Demetrius and Spiro in a sea coast village in Greece. She’d fallen in love with Demetrius at first glance, and it had been the same for Penelope and Spiro. Unable to turn their backs on what the Fates were offering, the two Angelis brothers had left their homeland for San Francisco. After Penelope and Demetrius had died, she and Spiro had moved back in with her father, and she’d raised her niece and three nephews right along with her own son, Dino.
They were all grown up now. Dino had already left the nest to join the navy. The youngest, her niece, Philly, had graduated from college in January, and eventually, they’d probably all move out of the house. Perhaps that was why she found herself feeling a bit lonely lately and missing that special connection she’d had with Demetrius.
A fish broke the surface of the water and sent ripples widening in all directions. Cass’s lips curved, and she sensed Demetrius’s presence as surely as if he’d sat down beside her on the bench. Almost immediately, her tension eased.
On the fading ripples, she began to see images. They were blurred at first, but at last she saw a woman’s face—fair skin, green eyes and red hair. Cass felt passion, temper and a courage that she could only admire.
The sound of a gunshot shattered the quiet, the noise so real that Cass jumped. More ripples blurred the picture she’d seen, and another one appeared. The redheaded woman was running and the man at her side was…
Cass leaned closer to the water, until she could finally recognize her nephew, Nik, who was a detective in the San Francisco Police Department. Another shot ripped through the silence and this time, water erupted so violently that it cascaded over the rocks lining the edge of the pond.
Cass’s stomach clenched in fear as she sensed the meaning in the images. For the next seventy-two hours Nik’s job would be to keep the woman at his side alive. And she wouldn’t be an easy woman to handle. Brave and impulsive, the redhead had a mind of her own.
From what she’d observed, Nik liked his women tall, blond and easy to manage. He satisfied his love of adventure on his job. The more Cass considered it, the more she thought that Nik needed a woman who would challenge him. Yes. Cass nodded to herself. The fiery redhead might do very well for her nephew.
Suddenly, the water in the pond turned red as blood. Greed, envy and death surrounded Nik and the woman on all sides. But Cass also felt passion, generosity and love. Would those be enough to protect Nik and the woman the Fates had chosen for him?
1
THE ANGRY SHOUTS began just as J.C. Riley was finessing the bride into the spun sugar gazebo on the top of the wedding cake. Startled by the raised voices, she dropped the figurine, then watched in horror as it ricocheted off a pink butter-cream rose and nose-dived to the floor.
Dammit! She’d spent five full minutes fashioning that rose. Not only was the flower ruined, but the little plastic bride now wore a pink veil. As she stooped to pick it up, the shouting grew louder and J.C. heard a loud thump. Years of experience growing up with four brothers told her that it was the sound of a body crashing into a wall.
A door slammed. More thumping followed, punctuated by muffled grunts.
Maybe she ought to think about rescuing the real bride. Striding to the door of the rectory dining room, she peered down the hall to the covered walkway that connected Father Mike’s residence to St. Peter’s Church. The door to the church sacristy was shut.