Beth Cornelison - To Love, Honor and Defend

Libby understood the girl’s wariness more than she cared to. Sympathizing with Cal’s daughter, she searched for a way to engage Cal’s attention so that Ally would have the space she needed to eat without feeling in the spotlight.

“So…tell me more about the job you have now with the road crew.”

Cal sent her a puzzled look. “Not much to tell. I help with whatever road construction or repair needs to be done.”

When he turned his attention to Ally again, Libby caught his hand and gave her head a subtle shake. “Give her space,” she mouthed. “Talk to me.”

With a nod, he leaned forward, his gaze now riveted on her. Libby shifted in her seat, bearing the brunt of his piercing gaze for Ally’s sake.

“All right, there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you. What can you tell me about David Ralston? What happened to him after I went to jail?”

It took a moment for the name to register. “Ralston? You mean the guy you—”

“Yeah, the same.” The intensity of his gaze stirred a quiver in her veins. She recalled too well the same intensity burning in his eyes when he’d made love to her.

Libby, you and I both know I don’t do anything half-cocked.

“Actually…I prosecuted his case.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

She nodded and cleared her throat before she went on. “As soon as he recovered from the injuries you inflicted, Ralston faced charges of his own. We got him for assaulting the woman whose honor you were defending.”

Cal quirked a dark eyebrow. “I’ll be damned.”

Libby sneaked a peek toward Ally, mostly to escape the scrutiny of Cal’s unsettling stare. Free from her father’s surveillance, Ally plucked the pepperoni from her slice of pizza and jammed the pieces in her mouth as fast as she could. A fevered excitement glowed in her eyes, and tomato sauce circled her mouth. Warmth stirred in Libby’s chest.

“Was he convicted? Did he do time?”

Libby snapped her gaze back to Cal. “Yes and no.”

“Meaning?”

Libby picked up her own slice of pizza but found she no longer had an appetite. She set the food back down and met Cal’s querying gaze. Bracing herself for his reaction, she said, “Yes, he was convicted. No, he didn’t serve time. He got a hefty fine, parole and one thousand hours public service.”

Cal rocked back in the booth as if from a physical blow. He gaped at Libby, a parade of emotions—shock, disbelief, horror, and finally fury—crossing his face. Through clenched teeth, he bit out a curse. Obviously realizing his mistake, he winced and shot a glance at Ally.

“I argued for a stiffer penalty, but Ralston’s lawyer played up the guy’s own abuse as a child. Ralston swore on the stand to seek counseling. Obviously, the jury felt he deserved a second chance.” She sighed her own frustration with the verdict and turned to watch the family at the next table.

The father had his arm around his wife’s shoulders, his fingers strumming the woman’s arm in a loving caress. Libby jerked her gaze away when memories of Cal’s hands roaming her skin flashed in her mind’s eye. A tingle raced through her, and her mouth became dry. The hands she’d just envisioned stroking her body reached across the table and caught her wrists.

“Hey, what is it? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Pulling free from the tantalizing warmth of Cal’s grasp, she tugged up a corner of her mouth in a failed grin. “I did.” She sighed. “But I’m okay now.”

Cal poked at his dinner, his somber mood reflected in the grim set of his mouth, the deep furrows in his brow. “Some justice system we have, huh?”

“It works most of the time.”

He lifted a dubious glare. “Not that I can see.”

When he sent his daughter a sideways glance, his eyebrows shot up, and the first real smile to grace his lips all night lit his face.

Libby took in Ally’s empty plate and sauce-smeared face and had to grin herself.

“Hey, kitten. Looks like you’re a member of the Clean Plate Club!” He leaned a little closer to dab a napkin at the mess on Ally’s mouth and chin. “You know that means you get a lollipop for dessert, don’t you?”

Ally arched an eyebrow in a manner so like her father, Libby’s pulse stumbled. The little girl sat an inch or two closer to the table and eyed the remaining slices on the tray. “Is there more?”

“Sure, you can have more, sweetie.” He reloaded her plate and backed off as Ally dived in, once again stripping off the pepperoni for consumption first.

Cal’s relief was palpable. His shoulders relaxed, and the tension flowed out of his jaw, allowing the radiance of his smile to shine through. He turned his dazzling grin toward Libby, and a strange warmth expanded in her chest, stealing her breath.

She’d promised to play family with Cal for as long as it took for him to secure his rights to Ally. How would she ever survive months of marriage if just one night with him and his precious daughter had her emotions twisted in knots?

The only way she saw herself getting through the next several months with her heart intact was to set limits, lay out some ground rules, enforce some safeguards. She watched Cal tuck a wisp of hair behind Ally’s ear and her own skin burned, longing for that tender touch. Libby chafed her arms and looked away.

Rule number one had to be no physical contact. Her relationship with Cal had to stay strictly hands-off.

Or she was a goner.

“What can you tell me about a guy who calls himself Roach?” Libby tossed her purse in a bottom file drawer on Monday morning and gave Stan a pointed look as she scooted her chair up to her desk.

“Roach? Geez, where’d you run into him?” Stan settled in a chair across from her and bridged his fingers. When he propped one ankle on the opposite knee, his pressed khakis slid up to reveal a pair of green-blue-and-tan argyle socks.

“Long story. So you know the guy? Can you lay your hands on his file for me?”

Adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, Stan leaned back in his seat. “Gonna tell me why you’re interested in him?”

She shrugged. “Just curious. I have reasons to want to keep an eye on him.”

“Mail call!” Libby’s assistant, Helen, stepped into the office and dropped a pile of envelopes and magazines on Libby’s desk. “‘Morning, Stanley. Good weekend?”

Stan sat straighter and tugged at his tie. “Very good. And you?”

Libby caught the intimate grin Helen sent Stan and jerked her gaze to her colleague in time to see his returned wink. Helen and Stan? She covered her smile with a little cough and began shuffling through the stack of mail.

“Helen, would you be so good as to pull the file on Lawrence White? Look in the case files from about two years ago,” Stan said.

Libby glanced up from sorting out the junk mail for the round file. “Lawrence White?”

“Roach’s brother. You helped send him to Angola a couple years ago for dealing narcotics.”

“Yeah, I remember the case.”

“So what has little brother been up to?” Stan scrunched forward on his chair and propped an arm on her desk.

“I just ran into him this weekend. Seems little brother may have taken over the family business. I’d like a good reason to pin something on him that’ll stick.” She tossed the rest of her mail down with a huff and rubbed her temples.

Stan frowned. “Hey, you okay?”

“Uh-huh. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, besides that threatening letter you showed me last week, I heard that someone followed you to your car Thursday night.”

Libby’s stomach lurched. Cal’s marriage proposal and Ally’s plight may have offered a distraction from her own problems over the weekend, but something had to be done about her stalker. Soon.

“Did you call the cops like you promised? Have you told them what happened the other night on the stairs?”

Libby scowled at Stan. “Wait a minute. You were in court all day on Friday. Where did you hear about the guy following me?”

Besides the police, no one knew about that incident except Cal and…Helen.

Stan shrugged. “Just heard it…around.”

Libby gave Helen a meaningful look.

Her assistant flushed and hurried for the next room. “I think I hear my phone.”

Clearing his throat, Stan picked at the crease in his slacks.

“If Helen told you about Thursday night—” Stan’s guilty grimace confirmed she was right “—I’m surprised she didn’t mention I was up half the night giving the police my statement. I was a zombie most of the day Friday.” She didn’t bother to tell Stan the reason she’d lost so much sleep Thursday night had more to do with Cal and his marriage proposition.

“What did the police say?”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “The usual questions, told me to report anything new. Yada yada.”

“I don’t think you should be so blasé about this.”

She nearly laughed. Blasé? She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and her stomach felt permanently tied in knots. The prospect of marrying Cal didn’t help her state of mind, either.

“Do you think this Roach character is the guy who’s hassling you? Sending those letters?”

Libby shook her head. “No. At least, I don’t have any reason to think so.”

She thought of the menacing voice in the stairwell Thursday night and shuddered.

“I want you to at least have someone walk out with you to your car until this creep is caught.” Stan punctuated his demand by tapping her desk with his finger.

“You sound like a mother hen.”

“I’m a concerned friend. And I’m just talking about using a little caution.”

Libby raised her palms. “I know. You’re right. It’s just that…” Even that tiny precaution felt like giving up a piece of her independence.

After years of taking care of herself, depending on anyone else seemed a step backward. She sighed. “I won’t go out alone, Stan. I promise.”

“Good.” Stan paused and tipped his head in inquiry. “You seem…distracted. You sure you’re telling me everything about this stalker?”

Libby sighed deeply. “I’m fine. I’ve just…got a full plate.”

While she dug in her purse for an aspirin, Stan scooted aside a manila envelope with a pencil and tapped an incriminating blue one in her mail. “What have we here?”

Her breakfast threatened to come up. Slowly, she pulled in air, filling her lungs to loosen the tightness in her chest.

Deep breaths. Don’t lose control.

“Wait, Libby, don’t touch it. They might be able to lift some prints—”

But she was already ripping the letter open, scanning the familiar script. “You can run, but you can’t hide. Next time, I will get you. I will have my revenge.”

Tremors raced through her. Revenge. She hated to think what form that revenge might take. Would she have known this man’s revenge if Cal hadn’t been waiting in the garage on Thursday night?

I can protect you. His presence had protected her in the parking garage. Was it possible that marrying him would prove a sufficient deterrent to the creep trying to terrorize her?

She’d purposely downplayed her concerns about her stalker to Cal, knowing how he’d overreact. If Cal knew the full extent of the stalker’s threats, he’d smother her, never leave her side, try to usurp control. Having him around the house at night for added protection was one thing. Letting Cal take over her life with his overprotectiveness was quite another.

But had she gone too far minimizing the situation with the stalker? She was still worried about Ally, even if Cal felt he was all the protection the girl needed.