Bound by Moonlight Read Free

recently.”
    Max’s arm curled protectively about Cee Cee’s waist, protecting the reporter. “Ladies, play nice. This is a charity event, after all.” He smiled at the news-woman. “You’re looking very elegant yourself, Ms. Crawford. Putting our faces under your byline along with your lies must have paid you well.”
    She grinned like a shark. “Not as well as an exclusive would.”
    “Dream on, Crawford,” Cee Cee growled. “The only thing exclusive about him is me.”
    The reporter chuckled. “Can I quote you? At fivehundred dollars per ticket, you’ve come out as a couple in a big way.”
    Cee Cee gaped up at Max. “Five—”
    He gave her a warning squeeze and answered the reporter. “It’s an important cause to both of us. Let’s focus there, can we?”
    Crawford pounced on the opportunity. “Important why?”
    “We both lost our mamas when we were young. We were lucky to have good, strong influences step in to raise us. Others aren’t that fortunate.”
    “The Cummings Foundation targets homeless or exploited children,” Crawford pressed. “I know the detective owes much of her rearing to Father Furness and St. Bartholomew’s. But when Jimmy Legere took you in, wouldn’t you consider that more exploitation than salvation?”
    His eyes went flat and cold. “No. ’Cuse us, please.” He propelled Cee Cee forward, making her hurry in her four-inch heels to keep up with his long strides.
    He was here to make a statement, and when Max set his mind to something he was as subtle as a bulldozer: get out of his way or get plowed under. And she was crazy enough to ride shotgun as he strode into the limelight.
    At first glance, Michael Furness appeared more a man given to spirits than the spiritual. His big, coarse figure should have appeared imposing behind the clerical collar, but something in his eyes and smile showed an inner compassion that reached out to the lost and those in need. He’d founded a small church in a rundown neighborhood and opened its doors to all. Theyflocked to him, those of bruised heart and soul and body, and he gathered them close. Charlotte had considered St. Bart’s home while her top cop father was working the streets undercover. She and her best friend, Mary Kate Malone, who was the light yang to her dark yin, grew up inside the humble embrace of kindness and care, Mary Kate an orphan, Cee Cee left on her own. She owed the priest more than she could ever express, and Max knew it. Which is why he headed straight for that calm man of God, in spite of—or because of—who was standing next to him.
    Father Furness stood on the steps of St. Louis Cathedral speaking with NOPD chief Byron Atcliff.
    “I was hoping Max would bring you,” the priest murmured in a surprisingly gentle baritone as he swallowed her in his embrace. “It’s good to see you, Lottie. And Max.” He put out a big hand. “I wish you’d let me give you the proper accolades for what you’ve given to the church.”
    “No thanks needed, Father. I wish there was more I could have done.”
    Furness patted his hand and released it before Max grew uncomfortable enough to tug away. Praise made him restless, so the priest doled it out in small doses.
    “Looks like you’ll have no trouble raising the rest of what you need.” Cee Cee glanced around at the crowd. “A lot of deep pockets here looking for good press.”
    “And speaking of deep pockets, I see one I need to fleece.” Father Furness winked at her. “For a good cause, of course. Come see me, Lottie.”
    She promised she would, but they both knew she probably wouldn’t unless work brought her to hisdoor. He gave her another hug and left her to deal with the two very opposite, and at the moment confrontational, men who meant the world to her.
    Byron Atcliff was more than just Cee Cee’s superior. She’d practically grown up on the seat of the squad car between him and her father when they were partners on the force. A wiry man, as relentless