Beth Cornelison - To Love, Honor and Defend

The heat and strength in his grasp were almost enough to drive away the doubts chilling her to the marrow. His grip felt safe. Steady. Solid.

But the last time she’d needed him to be there for her, he’d abandoned her. Shattered her faith. Broken her heart.

The judge pronounced them man and wife and turned to Cal with a grin. “You may kiss your bride.”

Libby’s stomach pitched.

No way.

Cal had accepted her terms. He’d agreed to keep things strictly hands-off. He’d promised. So he wouldn’t…he couldn’t…he—cupped her cheek in his palm and tipped her chin up.

Libby gawked at him, her heart thumping.

His piercing gaze zeroed in on her mouth like a heat-seeking missile. And ka-boom.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including the coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 52505, Shreveport, LA 71135-2505 or visit her Web site at www.bethcornelison.com.

This one is for Jeffery—who has big dreams

of his own. You can achieve anything in life with faith,

a firm foundation, a good attitude and

dogged perseverance. I love you!

Many thanks to Lt. J. E. Via, retired Investigator and Major Case Supervisor for the Criminal Investigation Division of the Ouachita Parish Sheriff Department, for answering my many questions and letting me know about Louisiana Act 894, which will allow Cal a happier ending!

To Christy Hughes, sales manager for Kone, Inc., for her helpful information about elevators.

To Anna Destefano and Winnie Griggs, my dear friends and critique partners on this book.

To Lucienne Diver, my wonderful agent, for her assistance, friendship and unflagging support through the years.

To Paul, for putting up with this zany writer while I followed my dream.

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

“All rise. The Honorable Judge Thomas Fitzpatrick presiding.”

Showtime.

Cal Walters shoved stiffly to his feet. He knew what was coming—two years in prison before he was eligible for parole.

Tension vibrated in the silent courtroom and through Cal’s taut muscles as he waited for the judge to rule on the plea agreement. He glanced behind him, where the guys from his fire station had come out in a show of support. His fellow firefighters had been at the bar with him the night he’d spotted David Ralston in the back hall using a woman as a punching bag. They’d stood with him as he’d come to the woman’s defense.

And his buddies had peeled him off Ralston when his defense of the woman had turned into something more, when the past and present had blurred and Cal had gone a little crazy.

He drew a deep, fortifying breath as Fitzpatrick settled at the bench.

Maybe, just maybe, the judge would agree that the deal the district attorney’s office had offered was unreasonable. Maybe the judge wouldn’t make him serve time once he considered the circumstances surrounding that bar fight.

Sure. And maybe Assistant D.A. Libby Hopkins’s presence in the courtroom meant she still had feelings for him and wanted to pick up where they’d left off three years ago.

In your dreams.

Regret sliced through him, sharp and merciless.

“Counsel, I’ve reviewed the plea agreement reached in this matter.” Judge Fitzpatrick shuffled his papers then addressed the lead prosecutor. “Mr. Moore, do you have anything that needs attention before I make my ruling?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Cal turned, staring past the tall, bearded assistant D.A.

When his gaze locked on the brunette in the first row of the gallery, his gut rolled. Libby stood with her back rigid, buttoned down in her pinstriped suit. She’d slicked her shiny chestnut hair into a neat bun. Her cool, crisp courtroom dress didn’t fool him. He remembered the feel of that silky mane, unbound and tumbled around him during the hottest sex he’d ever had. Even now the memory made his body ache and pulse, his heart clench. They’d shared something special. Something intense.

Something he’d ended after a precious few months to marry a former girlfriend. Renee had discovered, weeks after they’d parted company and he’d later met Libby, that she was carrying his child. Cal wanted his baby to have his name, but giving Libby up had left a hole in his heart.

Seeing Libby walk into the courtroom today had been bittersweet. She hadn’t been a member of the prosecution team, but that didn’t allay his suspicions about her contributions to his lynching. Watching her repeatedly confer with the prosecution made it clear where Libby’s loyalties lay.

“Mr. Walters, do you understand the terms of this plea and accept them without coercion or duress?”

Hell, no! I don’t understand why any of this has happened, how my life could have gotten so far off track.

Cal’s chest contracted, filled with a dull ache. If he went to prison, he wouldn’t see his daughter for months. Two-year-old Ally meant the world to him. He’d given up Libby to be Ally’s father, and now he felt his baby girl slipping away, too. He choked back the bitter frustration and defeat and nodded solemnly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“You understand that your attorney has asked that you be allowed the provisions of Act 894? That if you maintain a clean record for five years after serving your full sentence that these charges will be expunged from your record?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” He was grateful for that ray of hope in this nightmare.

“Would you like to address the court before I rule on this plea agreement?” Judge Fitzpatrick asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Cal knew that what he had to say wouldn’t make a bean’s difference. He’d pleaded his case to his attorney, to the police, to Renee. So why repeat himself now? Libby lifted her dark brown eyes to his at that moment, and he knew. He was appealing to her. Maybe she could dismiss all they’d shared, but their months together meant something to him.

“I deeply regret everything that has happened. If I could change things, I would. Many people have been hurt by my actions, and for that I’m sorry.”

Libby shifted her weight, her hard, all-business facade cracking. She knew he was addressing her, their history. He could see it in the flash of vulnerability and sadness that drifted over her face. Then she glanced to the spot behind him where Renee sat, and Libby’s sadness morphed into something hard-edged, cold. And vengeful?

Cal’s pulse jumped. He knew he’d hurt her when he’d married Renee, but he never imagined Libby would retaliate. Had Libby played a part, behind the scenes, in the D.A. office’s tough negotiations on his plea?

A chill snaked through him. The glint of anger and distrust in Libby’s glare was unmistakable. The acid bite of betrayal gnawed inside him. Didn’t she know how it had killed him to leave her? Didn’t she understand why he’d made the choices he had?

Cal’s attorney cleared his throat, and Cal realized he’d lapsed into an awkward silence. His muscles tense, he tore his gaze away from Libby and addressed the judge again.

“My father raised me to respect and defend women.” He took a slow breath to keep the pain of Libby’s injustice out of his voice. He saw the stiff penalty the prosecution had demanded in a new light, and his gut twisted. “I couldn’t sit back and watch Ralston hitting a lady.” Cal took a deep breath and shook his head. “As a firefighter, my job is to protect and save lives. Ms. Dillingham was in danger, so I stepped in. I regret crossing the line with Ralston, but in the same situation, I would still defend any woman.”

Judge Fitzpatrick arched a bushy eyebrow. “Anything else?”

Cal clenched his teeth, glanced at Libby again. “No, sir.”

The judge unfolded the document in front of him and read, “Calvin Rutledge Walters, in accordance with the plea agreement reached with the Lagniappe, Louisiana, District Attorney’s office, this court accepts your guilty plea to the charge of aggravated battery and sentences you to serve no less than two years and no more than five years in the parish correctional institution.”

Cal’s knees almost buckled, but he stood firm by sheer will.

He couldn’t be certain, but Cal would have sworn Libby flinched when the gavel slammed down, sealing his fate. Yet while the bailiff snapped handcuffs on his wrists, she congratulated her colleagues on a job well done.

Renee marched up and shot him a disgusted look. “I’ll be filing for divorce tomorrow. I should’ve done it long ago.”

“Fine,” he said, still watching Libby revel. “As long as you let me see Ally. You can’t keep me away from my daughter.”

Renee snorted. “Watch me. You’re hardly in a position to fight for custody.”

A tremor twisted through Cal as he met Renee’s sneer. What if he lost his rights to see Ally while he was locked away? Ally was all he had left.

The cold steel handcuffs jerked his arms up as the bailiff led him out of the courtroom. Cal found Libby again as he shuffled toward the door. He gritted his teeth and kept an icy stare pinned on the woman he’d once believed he loved. Libby Hopkins had betrayed everything they’d once shared. He had no doubt she’d encouraged her colleagues’ merciless dealings with him. Her vindictive glare confirmed that she’d sought revenge on him for her broken heart.

She’d helped destroy his life.

Two years later

Another letter. Her stalker was nothing if not persistent.

Libby Hopkins’s hands shook as she stared down at the telltale blue envelope. Dread twisted her stomach, but perverse curiosity, a need to know what she was dealing with made her open the letter and read.

To the bitch who ruined my life,

That was an ugly blue suit you wore yesterday. Made you look like a man. Under those suits, I bet you have a hot body. You should dress to show off your assets. Better yet, you should stay home, where a woman belongs, and stop playing the tough lawyer. Do you get a thrill destroying people’s lives? You ruined my life, but I’ll have the last laugh. When you least expect it.

Shuddering, she crunched the letter in her hand. He knew what she’d worn to court yesterday. He was watching her.