“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.
Stan grabbed her phone and started jabbing the keypad.
A chilling new thought slid through her mind as she listened to Stan report the new letter to the police. Marrying Cal might not deter her stalker.
It could provoke him.
“Act 894, huh?” Cal’s parole officer flipped through the file on his desk and scribbled notes as he talked.
“That’s right.” Cal sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair opposite the officer and tried not to let the nerves dancing in his stomach show.
As he read, the heavyset parole officer stroked a bushy white mustache, which hid most of his mouth except when he smiled. Fortunately for Cal, Henry Boucheron seemed to smile often. The officer’s good humor boded well for Cal’s relationship with the man who’d play such a large part in his life for the next two years.
“Lucky guy.” Boucheron rocked back in his seat and folded his hands over his barrel chest. “Not too many fellas who come through my office get the chance to erase their record, start fresh.” He flashed Cal one of his ready smiles. “Keep your nose clean, toe the line for the next five years—” he waggled a finger at Cal “—and your record will be expunged.”
Cal simply nodded, not bothering to tell the man his lawyer had already been over the details with him of what Act 894 entailed—a second chance to get his life on track, possibly even be reinstated at the fire department.
God, he wanted that clean record so badly he could taste it. It would be sweet, so sweet, to have his life back, his name cleared. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“The job with the road crew workin’ out all right?”
Tamping the frustration that rolled through him, Cal nodded. “It’s not firefighting, but it’s a job. I’m grateful to have it.”
His P.O. cocked his head and studied him through narrowed eyes. “I know a guy who volunteers for the Clairmont Fire Department just down the road. I believe they’re a bit shorthanded.”
Now the man had his full attention. Cal leaned forward. “A volunteer department?”
“Yep. No pay, but you’d still get your hands dirty every now and again.”
Cal sighed. “Doubt they’d take me on with my conviction.”
“I could pull some strings, put in a good word for you….”
A bubble of hope rose in Cal’s chest. “And Clairmont is within this jurisdiction? I wouldn’t be violating my parole if I got called over there for a fire?”
Boucheron shook his head. “Not at all. Since Clairmont is in our parish, you’d be within your legal jurisdiction. As long as a fire doesn’t take you outside the parish, you wouldn’t be jeopardizing your parole. Want the contact number?”
Cal grinned. “Absolutely.”
His P.O. lifted the top sheet from the file and handed it to Cal. “Read this and make sure we have your current address correct, then sign the bottom. And I’d like to run a drug test today.”
Cal swallowed a groan. “Yes, sir.”
The humiliation of peeing in a cup was a small price to pay for his future. He’d fill a thousand jars if it meant being with Ally, seeing her grow up, having his freedom.
A second chance to get things right with Libby.
The tagalong thought startled Cal. Marrying Libby meant more to him than a means to an end. Reviving what they’d had would take a little effort and compromise. Okay, a lot of effort and compromise. But Libby was worth it.
Boucheron flipped the file closed, and his mustache lifted as he smiled again. “That’s about it. I’ll see you again next month.”
“Um, well—”
“Yes? Something else, Mr. Walters?”
“I’m getting married. I plan to move in with my wife later this week. I’m also…suing my ex for custody of our daughter.”
His parole officer whistled through his teeth and slid the file back in front of him. “Busy guy.” He jotted a few more notes. “I’ll need that new address, and you’ll need to let your new wife know that her home will be subject to searches if I deem it necessary. Any weapons she owns will have to be locked up where you have no access to them.”
“She understands all that. Better than most. I’m marrying Libby Hopkins, from the D.A.’s office.”
Boucheron hooted with laughter. “I’ll be damned. Libby Hopkins? You are one lucky son-of-a-gun.”
A sensation like warm honey seeped through Cal, and his mouth crooked in a grin. He was lucky to be marrying Libby. He’d asked her to be his wife because he didn’t want anyone else. He’d never gotten Libby out of his system. Despite the prickly feelings still to be worked through, Libby was beautiful, intelligent, compassionate…and a wildcat in bed. Honey morphed to a tongue of fire licking his veins.
Okay, so she’d warned him away from her bed. But he wouldn’t give up quite so easily.
“I believe you’re gonna be one of my more interesting cases, Mr. Walters.”
“Let’s hope not,” Cal mumbled.
“Well, give the lovely Ms. Libby my best, won’t you?�
��
“I will.” Cal signed the form Boucheron had given him and hurried for the door. Talking with his parole officer, even one as amiable as Boucheron, wasn’t his idea of fun.
Talking to the police made Libby late for a deposition. Which made her late to meet Cal for lunch.
When she breezed into her office at twelve-thirteen, he gave her a disgruntled sigh. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”
“Don’t start. You cannot imagine how bad this day has already been.” She dumped a stack of files on her desk and dug her purse out of her bottom drawer.
“Yeah, your secretary said something about the police being here this morning. What was that about?”
“Don’t let Helen hear you call her a secretary. She’s got several semesters of law school under her belt and plans to take the bar next spring.”
Cal raised his palms. “My mistake. Sorry. So why were the cops here?”
She snatched her coat out of the closet and jammed her arms in the sleeves, stalling. “I…had another note from the jerk who’s pestering me.”
Slinging her purse strap over her shoulder, she faced Cal. She’d spent most of the morning worrying about Ally. Worrying that her stalker posed a greater risk to the people around her than she’d wanted to admit. She refused to be responsible for anything happening to Cal or his daughter.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait and get married after the cops find my creepy pen pal?”
“No, I don’t want to wait. The custody hearing is only a few weeks away.” He frowned. “You’re not trying to back out of our deal, are you?”
Libby shook her head and threaded the fringe of her scarf through her fingers. “I just don’t want Ally in any danger because of the guy stalking me.”
Cal tugged up the corner of his mouth, and warmth filled his eyes. “I appreciate your concern for my daughter. Really. But I won’t feel Ally is truly safe until she’s out of Renee’s apartment. I’m perfectly capable of protecting my daughter from this bully who is harassing you. But I can’t protect Ally from Renee’s neglect and scummy friends unless I can win custody.”
He stroked her cheek with a crooked finger, and heat spiraled to her core.
“Can we go get the license now?” he asked.
A marriage license.
Libby’s stomach performed a forward roll, and she gave a jerky nod.
Placing a hand on her back, Cal ushered her out into the corridor. Through her thick winter coat, the weight of his hand stirred a flutter inside her.
Before Cal moved into her house, she had to find a way to control her body’s carnal reaction to him or she’d go crazy in a matter of days.
“Ally asked about you this morning.”
“Oh? How so?” she asked, latching on to the distraction from thoughts straying in the wrong direction.
“She wanted to know if you’d be with me when I picked her up next Saturday. I told her you would.” Dark shadows dimmed the vibrant blue of his eyes. “She cried when I took her back to Renee’s this morning.”
Sharp claws raked her heart and squeezed her chest. The grim lines that hardened Cal’s face told her how difficult that had been for him.
“Damn rat hole. I’d keep her at my place if not for the court orders that give Renee rights to her during the week. My lawyer, Jay Wright, warned me that if I ignore the court mandate, it will work against us in our custody suit.”
“Mmm, I know Jay. He’s the best.”
“He’d better be. I need every ace I can find.”
“And he’s right. Following the letter of the law will show the courts you can be trusted. That’s key to your case, especially with a conviction on your record.”
He glanced sideways at her. “I understand that. It’s just damn hard taking her back to that cesspool.”
He stopped in front of the elevator, jabbed the call button. Heat flickered in his eyes as he stepped forward and smoothed a hand along her cheek. “Have I thanked you yet for what you’re doing to help me with Ally?”
A delicious shiver chased down her spine. From deep in her core, a pull like industrial-strength magnets beckoned her to lean into him, to reach out to him. Shaken by her gut-level response, she turned her face away from his touch.
Stepping back, she cleared her throat. “Must I remind you of my terms?”
He cocked his head. “Excuse me?”
“You promised to keep our relationship strictly hands-off. You’ve touched me twice today already.”
“Hands-off?” Cal raked his fingers through his hair. “Geez. I agreed to take the guest room, but I never said anything about this no touching thing.”
“Well, those are my terms.” She squared her shoulders. “No touching, or the deal is off.”
“And how do you plan to convince people we’re happily married if I can’t even touch you?”
A ding announced the arrival of the elevator. She marched into the car and crossed her arms across her chest as she faced him, her back stiff. “Rules are rules. If you’re going to ignore my rules then we might as well forget this whole mess now and save ourselves a lot of trouble.”
Cal slouched against the opposite wall of the elevator, and his blue eyes gleamed like twin lasers. His heated gaze stroked her more sensually than a physical caress. A warm tingle rippled through her, following the path of his slow perusal. “Rules were made to be broken.”
She grunted. “Ah, yes. And there, in a nutshell, is the difference between you and me. If you spent half the energy following the rules that you do looking for loopholes, then your life could be so much simpler.”
“Simple is boring.” His lopsided smile needled her.
She drew a slow breath, searching for her composure. She knew he loved to provoke her, so why did she let him?
“Without laws,” she said with a more steady tone, “we’d have chaos. No control over anything.” She gave him a confident smile. Score one for the prosecution.
His expression softened. “And losing control scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it? Because of your mom?”
Her smile faltered, her pulse stumbling. He was too close to the truth. With her mother, she’d survived all the chaos and uncertainty she could stomach in one lifetime. She gave him a warning scowl. “Don’t go there, Cal. I mean it.”
He gave her a disappointed and sympathetic look and poked the button for the lobby.
Libby shoved the sharp ache of her mother’s legacy back into the box where she kept it locked. She didn’t want Cal’s sympathy. She dealt with her childhood just fine by keeping the memories out of sight and out of mind. Perhaps by helping Ally, she could even put some of her own demons permanently to rest.
“I’ll follow your hands-off condition for now,” Cal said, pulling her out of the past. “But don’t box yourself in a corner you might want out of someday.”
Libby shook herself from the hypnotic lure of his eyes and deep voice, fixing her attention on the lit numbers that marked the elevator’s descent. She didn’t fear boxing herself in nearly as much as leaving the safety of her corner for a foolish fling with Cal.
What would happen if she left her comfort zone, even once, then couldn’t find her way back to that safe place? More frightening was the thought that she’d not want to go back.
“Do you, Calvin Walters, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold…?”
Libby bit the inside of her cheek to keep her teeth from chattering. Despite her long-sleeved suit—a dark gray tailored silk she’d chosen for her appearance in court that morning—she couldn’t vanquish the shivers that chased all the way to the bone.
“I do,” Cal told Judge Mathison.
Sometime since she’d last seen Cal on Monday, he’d gotten a haircut. The navy suit he’d donned for the ceremony seemed tailored just for him. Beneath his coat, his shoulders looked impossibly broad, and the pale blue in his tie highlighted the sapphire gleam in his eyes. He looked divine.
Moth
er of Pete, was this really happening?
Since they’d gotten the marriage license on Monday, Libby had buried herself in her work, trying hard not to think about the drastic step she would take on Thursday. Now she couldn’t avoid the truth any longer. For better or worse, she was marrying Cal.
Libby eyed Judge Mathison, followed the proceeding around her as if watching under water.
With Renee’s consent, Cal had picked Ally up from day care early so his daughter could attend the hasty ceremony. The little girl sat on a tall wingback chair in the corner of the judge’s chamber watching the wedding with a curious knit in her brow. In the massive chair, Ally looked especially tiny and vulnerable.
She’s the reason I’m doing this. I can’t let Ally endure what I did as a child.
If she was so certain of what she was doing, why did her head feel like a blender at top speed? Whirling. Churning. Roaring.
The funny buzz in Libby’s ears nearly drowned out the judge as he asked, “Do you have the rings?”
Cal turned to his buddy from his years with the fire department, a good-looking blonde he’d introduced as Riley Sinclair. The best man handed Cal two gold rings.
Her groom had thought of everything. He’d arranged for the judge, the witnesses, the marriage license, the rings.
Tears choked her throat remembering how Cal had greeted her at the judge’s chambers with a small bouquet of white roses to hold while they exchanged vows.
During the three months they’d dated, Cal had been full of thoughtful surprises and loving gestures. She still had the angel charm he’d given her for luck when she’d faced a particularly tough and important trial. And the I’m A Badass T-shirt he’d bought her when she won that case. Flowers on her birthday, a can of chicken soup when she caught a cold, foot massages after a long day in tight shoes…
Was it any wonder she’d gotten swept away? What woman wouldn’t be charmed by a GQ-worthy man who pampered her at every turn?
To Love, Honor and Defend Page 6