The Right To Remain Mine (19 page)

        "Holy shit," Raith breathed out the word, barely missing a collision.

        It was a true testament to his nerves that he didn't leap right out of his skin. But, damn, he hadn't planned on bumping into the big brother thirty seconds after exploding inside little sister. "When did you get here?"

        The assistant county attorney paused and nailed Raith with a suddenly suspicious look.

        Damn. He'd buried himself with that question.

        "I just walked up the drive," DeVane reported. "Why?"

        "No reason," Raith evaded and moved past him. "Have a good morning."

        DeVane didn't respond except for a slight quiver to his eyelid. He casually slipped his hand in his pockets and inspected Raith as if he were a vile piece of garbage. Raith didn't bother to inform the man his intimidating stare wasn't going to keep him away.

        He turned without another word and started toward his truck across the street. Nothing could keep him away from Willow. Not her powerful brother or her even more powerful judge of a daddy. Not even the fact that she was so far above him socially there was no way he would be able to afford to keep her permanently. He was well and truly addicted. And like any obsessed junkie, he was going to keep coming back again and again until she finally threw him out on his pathetic ass.

        Willow felt unsteady on her legs as she left her house. She'd hurried back to the bathroom after Malloy left and tried to clean herself as well as possible without taking another full shower. But she still felt rode hard and put away wet as she pushed her way outside.

        Something was changing inside her. And Raith Malloy was behind the transformation. She could no longer convince herself he meant nothing more to her than a couple of hot nights in the sheets. He'd somehow become essential, as if a part of her sanity, her very happiness, depended on one rude, arrogant, cocky man.

        But she had to keep these feelings under wraps, especially from him. Not only would no one else understand—they would think either he was a social climber or she was temporarily slumming for a few kicks—but he'd probably run for the hills if he knew how she couldn't stop thinking about him lately. She couldn't see Malloy as the settle-down type. So it was best not to let him find out she was having settling-down thoughts.

        Buried in her contemplations, Willow didn't even see her brother until she plowed into his chest. Yelping in surprise, she pulled back quickly and tried to even her breathing.

        He set his hands on his hips and tapped a foot. "Raith Malloy?"

        "Oh my God." Her breath hitched as she pressed her hand over her heart. "When did you get here?"

        Chase sighed. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? It makes me think I narrowly missed walking in your back door just now and seeing something that would've immediately rendered me blind."

        Throwing her shoulders back, she said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

        "Yeah, well the beard burn on your neck and the rumpled look of the deputy who just left says you know exactly what I'm talking about."

        Face heating, Willow slapped a palm over her jugular and strode around her moody brother. "Good morning to you, too," she said and started toward her BMW.

        Chase followed.

        She sighed. He wasn't going to leave her alone, was he? "What're you doing here anyway?"

        He angled her an irritated glower. "Have you forgotten already?"

        Willow slowed to a stop at his question and turned to him. "Forgotten what?"

        "We're supposed to meet Mom at the caterer's this morning. I'm driving you there. Remember?"

        Eyes popping open wide, Willow groaned. "I completely forgot."

        "I figured," he muttered and glanced back at her house as he shivered in revulsion. "I didn't think you'd remember. That's why I told you I'd pick you up and we'd go together, but God, Will. Raith Malloy? How the hell long has this being going on?"

        Letting out a groan, she changed her course to the passenger side of his sleek Bentley and opened the door, thinking it was a good thing she hadn't scheduled to meet any clients this morning. "I guess we're going to talk about it, huh?" she muttered and climbed into his car.

        Getting into the driver's seat, her brother closed his door and glanced over. "Is he the cop who gave you defensive training?"

        "What? Couldn't Kit remember his name?" She folded her arms over her chest and stared out the front window, wishing she didn't have such a nosey, privacy-invading family.

        "No, Kit couldn't remember the officer's name," Chase growled as he jammed his key into the ignition and started the car. He seared her with a look. "And I shouldn't have to learn facts like that about my own sister from him either. You should've told me what was going on yourself."

        "How was it any of your business?"

        Jerking the car into gear, Chase glared at her as he backed down the drive. "You were attacked, Willow. By a disturbed client."

        "And no harm came from it. I didn't see why I should bother everyone—"

        "No harm?" Chase snapped. Once reaching the street, he slammed on the brakes so he could reach out to touch her forehead. But when he lifted her bangs, the bruise that had been there was gone. "Kit said it was black and blue."

        "Well, it's better," Willow answered smartly and brushed his hand away. "I'm fine. Malloy showed me a few moves. So it won't happen again."

        Chase stared at her. His look was so inscrutable she couldn't tell what he was thinking. Then quietly he said, "You know, I'd been wanting to find out which officer trained you so I could thank him. But it seems you've been giving him enough appreciation for the entire family."

        "Once again," Willow said, lifting her hand to block him out. "We're talking about something that's really none of your business."

        "I'm your brother," he growled. "If he hurts you—"

        "He won't." He couldn't, she told herself. He wasn't that important.

She would not let him become that important. Though, oh God, he already was that important.

        Chase sighed in defeat and put the car into drive, starting them down the block. "He better not," he answered. "Because I actually like Malloy. It'd be a shame if I had to kill him."

~ * ~

        Raith was ten minutes late when he radioed in to dispatch and reported he was on duty. The sheriff liked it when a deputy clocked in fifteen minutes early, so when his cell phone rang as soon as he went ten-seven, he cringed, thinking he was going to get an ass-chewing. But instead of Sheriff Tom Ballard on the other end of the line, it was Greggor, the county's court security officer.

        "Hey, man, we've got that big murder trial tomorrow. I was hoping a few more people could come in and help with security around here."

        "Sure, I can do that," Raith answered, though it hadn't been a scheduled day for him. "Where do you need me?"

        "Could you keep surveillance on the ground outside? I need someone in the back, where they're going to bring the prisoner in. There's a lot of people who want to watch him fry and that would be the best place to catch him before he's brought inside."

        "I'll be there," Raith answered and hung up. As he put his cell phone away and braked the patrol car at a red light, he sighed.

        Greggor had a good reason to worry. The trial was for a man who'd allegedly raped and then strangled his next-door neighbor, a nine-year-old girl. The child's parents were crazy with grief and the dad had already tried to attack his daughter's murderer at the hearing. It was going to be a tense day at the courthouse.

        And he was eager for it. He almost wished someone would try something, so he could have another outlet for all this harnessed energy zipping through him. He couldn't keep spending every night with Willow DeVane. He was starting to get attached, too attached. It was time to break away. Yet he didn't think he could unless there was something else big to keep him busy.

        That night, he tried to keep his distance. He lasted until midnight before he drove by her house to make sure she'd remembered to turn off the kitchen light. And though he never stopped or went inside, he still considered himself a failure.

        The next morning he felt like hell. Horny and hard, he'd dreamed of her all freaking night long. Irritable as he dragged on his uniform, he drove to the courthouse and set up his post by the back entrance, glaring at anyone who dared to look at him, other officers included.

        By twenty minutes until the prisoner was scheduled to arrive, he added freezing to the list of reasons why he was in a pissy mood. He kept stomping his boots on the ground to keep the cold from freezing his feet solid. Walking around the building to make sure no one was lingering too long outside, he'd just lifted his ungloved hands to his mouth to blow on them when her voice came from behind him. "Hey, Malloy! Wait up!"

        He stiffened and closed his eyes briefly. "Damn it," he muttered. He was cursed. If he couldn't even stay away from her for a full twenty-four hours there was no way he'd break this stupid obsession.

        Turning slowly, he took in the entire length of her, sucking in a breath because she was so beautiful she actually made his heart pound painfully against his ribs. "What're you doing here?" he said, sounding brusque and irritated. But, damn, she shouldn't have any reason to stop by the courthouse, not with the big trial about to start.

        She slowed to a confused stop about three feet away from him. "It's Chase's first murder trial today. I'm here for moral support."

        He didn't answer. Just stared at her, wishing more than anything he'd gone inside when he'd driven by her place last night.

        She cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable before she shivered and rubbed her coat sleeves with a warm-looking pair of pricey Isotoners. "So... there's sure a cold breeze today, huh?"

        He blinked. "What?"

        Face filling with color, DeVane fisted her hands at her sides. "Damn it, Malloy. You said I blew you off the last time I saw you in public, so here I am, talking to you."

        His brow lowered in confusion. "And you chose to talk about the weather?"

        She growled out a sound of disgust. "Oh, my God. Why do I even bother?" Nailing him with a dirty look, she muttered, "Next time you accuse me of ignoring you in public, I'm just going to kick you in the nuts."

        And with that, she turned on her high heels and strode to the entrance of the courthouse. He watched her march away, thinking he definitely shouldn't race after her. He shouldn't apologize, and he shouldn't beg to drag her to the nearest janitor's closet and take her against another wall.

        For once, he followed his own advice and stood there like an idiot as she stalked off. But he felt like shit about it.

        Six hours later when she left the courtroom, her father escorted her. He wore his street clothes since there was no way the county would let him preside over a jury with his own son as the prosecutor. Flanking DeVane and the judge were her mother and another woman, probably her sister-in-law if indeed the whole family had come to give Chase DeVane emotional support for his first murder trial.

        Prepared to talk about the freaking grass growing this time if she detoured by him, Raith watched her intently. But she didn't even spot him in the crush of people. And he kept too busy surveying the crowd to make sure no one got out of line to keep good track of her either. By the time the place cleared, she was long gone.

        He started home, only to be called to an emergency out in the middle of the county. A mother had found her son dead in his home, killed from a self-inflicted bullet wound to the head. The twenty-eight-year-old man had shot himself after his wife had left him.

        The first on the scene, Raith saw and smelled death in all its natural glory. The cold hand of dread clamped around the back of his neck as he remembered all too clearly the days directly after Deb had left. He'd been the one to kick her out, sure, but those first few weeks without her had been the worst. She'd had another boyfriend to move on to. He had no one.

        Though that loneliness had never been filled, he'd learned to deal with it and move on. Still... on nights like this, after working a case like he'd just worked, he couldn't go home to a cold, stale, quiet house.

        As soon as he was off duty, he drove straight to DeVane's. He wanted to reassure himself he was alive, that other people in this world were alive, that she was alive.

        Dusk had settled when he pulled into her drive. The lights in her house glared out every window. His stomach tensed as he entered through the back door—which was unlocked, of course—and found her in the living room. Cleaning.

        She yelped in surprise when he first walked into the room, dressed in full uniform. But her eyes lit and she good-naturedly lifted both hands in the air, her duster still in her fist.

        "What? Is dusting against the law?"

        Raith stared at her. He needed this. He needed her. No one soothed his soul the way DeVane did. He pulled his handcuffs from his duty belt and flipped them open. "Ma'am, I going to have to ask you to drop the duster."

        As he took an ominous step toward her, her eyes widened and she retreated.

        "I swear I didn't do it, Officer," she said in a high voice, slipping right into their spontaneous role-play.

        "Sorry, lady, but I can't believe a natural-born troublemaker like you."