The Right To Remain Mine (32 page)

        "I may be a little biased, but I don't think you could've picked a finer woman."

        "Thank you, Your Honor," Raith said solemnly and took the judge's hand.

        "You can call me Walt, you know," the judge answered. Glancing at Willow, he added, "Or Dad."

        Winking at her father, Willow hooked her arm through Raith's. "Ready to go?"

        He met her gaze. "Whenever you are."

        "I'm ready," she said and waved to her family as she hustled Malloy toward the first available exit. They made it back to his place in record time. Raith barely had the front door closed and locked before she was grabbing the lapels of his tuxedo jacket.

        "Here," she offered in a husky voice. "Let me help you get this tight thing off." Wrapping her hands around his shoulders, she slipped the jacket off, running her palms down his sleek, muscled back as she did so.

        "Thanks," he replied huskily, dipping his head toward her neck, but not actually touching his lips to her skin.

        The close contact caused her to shudder. "Need help with anything else?" she asked, smoothing her hands around his sides to rub them up his ribcage and around to the front, covering his hard pecs with all ten fingers.

        His hot blue eyes slid to hers. "I'll take all the help I can get."

~ * ~

        "I'm nervous."

        Willow glanced over her shoulder where a naked Raith spooned up behind her on his queen-sized mattress. His hands had been stroking her shoulder and arm, so she knew he was awake. But she figured he was too exhausted to talk.

        "About what?" she mumbled, her brow furrowing as she rolled onto her other side to face him fully.

        He sighed. "Having a baby. Trying the whole marriage thing again. Just… everything. It's a hell of a lot more than I was doing last month." He scooted up so they were eye-level.

        "Well, so far, I gotta say, you're doing a damn fine job," she said as she stretched out her nude body, purring like a contented cat.

        He grinned, skimmed a finger down a bare breast and whispered, "Will you do me a favor?"

       "Anything."

        Raith touched her face. "Tell me if I start to slide, will you? Don't let me ruin this thing we've got going, because it's the best damn thing that's ever happened to me."

        Willow smiled, pleasure glittering in her eyes. "Do you really expect me to keep my mouth shut if you do something to tick me off?"

        Raith chuckled. "Good point." He nuzzled his face against her neck.

        Willow lay wrapped around him and held him close as he sighed and relaxed. She stayed there, wide awake, as he began to breathe more deeply and settle closer to her. She watched him sleep, still stunned about the night's conclusion. She was getting married. To him. She was going to become the wife of this fierce, passionate, handsome man.

        She studied his features in the moonlit room, unable to stop smiling. "I love you, Raith Malloy," she softly told her sleeping fiancé. "You and little Bubble Malloy too."

        A moment later, he patted her hip and mumbled what sounded like, "Coward."

        Willow frowned. "Excuse me?" she said as she watched his eyes flicker open.

        "You're such a coward," he repeated, his words thick with sleep.

        Shaking her head, Willow demanded, "Oh? And how's that?"

        "You couldn't tell me you loved me when I was awake, could you? Had to wait until you thought I was asleep."

        "I did not!" Willow jerked to a sitting position. "I could've mentioned it any time I wanted."

        "Then why didn't you?"

        For a second, she sputtered. "I... I didn't think of it until just now."

        Raith snorted. "Uh, huh. Sure."

        "Well, you didn't say it to me either."

        "Did too."

        Willow lifted an eyebrow. "No," she stated adamantly. "You said I was the best thing that had ever happened to you. You mentioned nothing about love."

        "Hell," Raith complained, yanking her moodily down to his side so he could curl back around her. "I thought I loved Deb, and that was nothing compared to this. You completely blow my mind, woman. I will never love anyone the way I love you."

        Willow blinked. Then she relaxed against him and smiled in satisfaction. "Well… that's more like it."

        As she kissed his chin, he growled sullenly but then buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent. "Thank God," he muttered. "Can we get some sleep now?"

        "I don't know." She yawned, already sinking toward oblivion. "Are you going to get any mushier on me? Dedicate the stars to me or

something?"

         He cursed and pulled her snug against him. "Go to sleep, smartass."

        His cell phone rang the moment Raith stepped from the jewelry store. When he saw it was the station calling, he answered, "Malloy."

        "Hey," the voice of Officer Hinton spoke in his ear. "Good news. We just got a blood match for the perpetrator who broke into your girlfriend's house."

        Raith grinned at the term.

        Girlfriend.

        He wondered what Hinton would say if he corrected him and told the kid she was now officially his fiancée. Stuffing the ring box in his pocket, he patted the bulge it made and strolled toward his truck. "Great. What's this bastard's name?"

        "You'll never believe it. Max Kettle."

        Raith stopped in his tracks. "Are you shitting me?"

        When Hinton's confirmation came back, he stopped breathing. Kettle had been dead set on exacting his revenge. But Raith never imagined he'd do it by going after Willow.

        A cold sweat filmed his skin as he told the deputy to send someone to Willow's office. Then he hung up and hopped into his truck, speeding toward her himself.

~ * ~

        "Miss DeVane?"

        The voice of her secretary coming from her intercom dragged Willow from a wealth of daydreams. Straightening, she smoothed a hand over her still-flat stomach, grinned when she thought about it filling with Raith's baby, and answered, "Yes?"

        "Your new client, Mr. Kettle, is here to meet with you."

        Willow cleared her throat, hoping it would help clear her head as well. "Thank you, Jan. Please send him in."

        She pasted a greeting smile to her face as she pushed to her feet but stopped cold as she spotted a figurine sitting on top of her filing cabinet. Frowning at it, she moved closer and sucked in a gasp.

        The cop statue had returned.

        Slowly, she reached out to touch it, thinking it couldn't be real. But the cool metal surface grazed her fingertips, letting her know she wasn't imagining anything.

        Behind her, the door opened and a prickle of awareness shot up the back of her neck.

        "Ah," came a smooth, cultured voice. "You found my present this time, I see."

        She whirled around. As soon as she realized who was entering the tiny office, she opened her mouth to demand he leave, but she was so shocked, no words came out.

        He shut the door behind him, locking it. "Scream and I'll cut your throat before anyone can save you," he told her, producing a huge knife in his hand.

        Willow nodded, believing him. She couldn't take her gaze off that long blade, light glinting off the silver surface as he lifted it. "You broke into my home," she managed to say aloud.

        He smiled. "Remember me, do you?"

        "Actually, I remember that knife. I think you left its twin at my place the other night. If you're coming to retrieve it, I'm sorry, but I don't have it any longer. You might try the police station. I think they said they'd keep it safe until you showed up to claim it."

        "Well, well. You're just a regular comedian now, aren't you, Willow? I couldn't see your smartass side after watching you from so far away these past few weeks."

        Watching her? The creep really had been stalking her. Her skin crawled, tingling up her arms, along the back of her neck, and down her spine. "I can be direct if you like," she said. "Get out of my office. Now."

        His amused smile fell. "That wasn't very nice."

        "Stalking me and vandalizing my house isn't very nice," she countered, licking her suddenly dry lips. She glanced toward the phone on her desk. How fast could she lunge toward it and dial 911?

        Probably about as fast as he could lunge toward her and slice her throat.

        She swallowed. "What do you want?"

        "I want to end your life," he answered, making her shiver by the evil relish in his voice.

        Her purse sat behind her on her cabinet. Maybe she could inch backward, somehow dig her cell phone out, and call for help without him knowing. She shifted a step in reverse. "I don't even know you."

        "Ah, but you know my buddy Malloy real well. Don't you?"

        Willow froze.

        "Yeah," he told her, his eyes flashing wicked delight. "Now, it's finally sinking in. I've been following him since the moment I got out of prison. He's the one who led me to you. He's the one you should thank for my, what was it you said, my stalking you."

         She shook her head, confused. "I don't understand."

        "Let me spell it out then, sweetheart. Malloy and I go way back. He's the asshole who got me sent to prison for two years. Two years of my life... gone. I had to live through horrors because of him." His bright eyes— glazed with insanity—trailed over her body. "Well, now I'm going to take something from him and teach him the true meaning of horror. Don't you think that's fair?"

        "Um," she said in a small voice. "Well, no. Now that you mention it, I don't. Not really. I mean, I'm just an innocent third party here. I don't—"

        "Innocent?" he cut in with a hard, bitter laugh. "Oh, I don't think so. If you can spread your legs for scum like Malloy then you deserve everything I'm going to give you."

        Feeling her back arch with indignation, she speared Max Kettle with a condemning glower. "You really are a nasty little man, aren't you? Fine!" She slapped her hand against the top of her desk, and demanded to know, "Just what kind of payback do you have in mind? Are you thinking to torture me for a while, or are you more interested in outright murder?"

        "Oh, it can't happen too fast. That just wouldn't be any fun. But if you want to play first, I'm sure I can accommodate you. Now, if you'll just head out that door there behind you and get into the car I have waiting in the alley, I'll take you somewhere private where we can have all the time in the world."

        As he moved toward her, Willow skidded in reverse. "I'm not going anywhere with you." Using one of the tricks Raith had taught her, she quickly kicked out with her foot, catching him in the side of the thigh. Diversion.

        No sooner did he cry out in pain than she lifted a thick law book and jack-slapped him in the arm. The knife went flying. Before he could dive after it, she grabbed his wrist, and promptly flung him to the ground.

        "You bitch!" he screamed, struggling to his feet. "I'll get you for that!"

        But Willow wasn't going to wait around for the next round. Yelling for her secretary, she hurdled her desk and flew toward the door. As soon as she opened it, she plowed into a hard, hot chest that smelled blessedly familiar.

        "Raith," she breathed out, not even bothering to lift her face and make sure it was him.

        He shoved her behind him and drew his gun in one fluid move. She sighed as he advanced into the room, thinking it was nice to have a big, tough cop on hand when she needed him.

~ * ~

        Half an hour later, Willow felt like exercising her defensive moves on a dozen more people. Paramedics swarmed her, wanting to check her for wounds. Family members crowded in closer, hogging all her personal space. She had reassured everyone she was fine. Kettle hadn't even touched her. But no one listened, insisting she at least step to the back of the ambulance and get checked out.

        "I'm fine," she snapped and lifted her hands to ward off the EMT who reached for her arm. Spinning to nail Raith with a warning look, she said, "Tell them I'm fine."

        He had stuck close to her ever since backup had arrived to take a handcuffed and surprisingly bloody Kettle away, but at least he'd given her the breathing room she needed.

        "Go get checked out, Willow," he said softly. She paused for a moment, her face softening when she saw the fear in his gaze. "Make sure Bubble's okay."

        Unable to deny his concern for the baby, she nodded and trailed after the attendant.

~ * ~

        Raith wanted to follow her to make sure she was honestly okay, but he forced himself to take a step back. His woman, his unborn child, the two most important people in his world had almost died because of someone's hatred for him.

        It made him sick to his stomach.

        Glancing around to ensure no one noticed, he turned and hurried to a private spot. He made his way into a nearby alley where he spotted Kettle's getaway car, exhaust still puffing from the tailpipe. The sight was more than he could take. Dashing to a dumpster, he reached out blindly and held onto the side of the trash receptacle as he doubled over and emptied his stomach. Panting as the bitter nausea passed, he lifted his eyes to the black Lincoln.

        What would he have done if Kettle had succeeded, if Willow and the baby had died today?

        He had to quit. That's all there was to it. If his job put her in danger, then his job was gone. Nothing was as important to him as Willow and the baby, certainly not his stupid, measly paycheck.