The Right to Remain Mine

  Raith paused in the entrance of the county jailhouse's book-in room to scowl at the correctional officer smirking back. A crisp January wind entered behind him, encouraging him to nudge his prisoner in cuffs to move along so he could let the door close at his back.

  "Happy birthday, asshole," he said to the jailer, planting the prisoner in front of the smartass so he could deal with the thief.

  "I prefer blondes," came the dry reply.

  After an indifferent shrug, Raith answered, "I tried. He refused to stop by the beauty parlor on the way over."

  The officer snickered. "Jerk."

  After passing the prisoner off, Raith turned away and caught a flash of color through the glass partition that led into the lobby. Pausing to focus on the auburn-headed woman, he took a moment to let a shiver of anticipation consume him. But, mercy. She was one fine specimen.

  In the many months since he had almost given Willow DeVane a ticket for parking in a handicap zone, the two of them had run into each other around town only a handful of times. Yet he still recognized her anywhere, even from the back—or maybe he should say, especially from the back.

  Man, she was hot. No one wore a power suit like the seductive lady lawyer, and to his delight, that's exactly what she sported today.

  But seriously, what in the hell she was doing, loitering around this place? Too curious to let sleeping dogs lie, Raith strolled toward the entrance leading him closer to DeVane. After waiting for the control room to unlock the door, he slipped into the lobby, where she finally glanced up.

  "Well, my goodness," she murmured. "If it isn't the strong and mighty Deputy Malloy." The grin she sent him did all sorts of wicked things to his loins. It taunted, I know you want me, but... too bad. "Hello there, officer," she cooed in such a carnal voice, his internal temperature kicked up another ten degrees. "Fancy meeting you here."

  "DeVane." He greeted her with a stony frown. "What a coincidence. I've just brought in another loser client for you to get off on some stupid technicality."

  "Really?" Eyebrows arching, she lifted up on her toes to glance through the glass wall and watch the correctional officer book in the man Raith had just delivered. She turned back to him, leaning confidentially closer. "What'd he do?"

  He shrugged. "Vandalized the Safe Way and stole some merchandise."

  Willow wrinkled her nose and, God, even that looked sexy on her. Adorable but undeniably sexy. "Sorry, but I don't do criminal cases. You'll have to call Chase."

  Raith held in a shiver of desire. He was quite aware of everything she didn't do. Him included. "But your brother doesn't defend trash like that. He's actually a decent attorney who puts criminals away."

  Chase DeVane, Willow's brother, held the newest assistant prosecutor spot in the county and, though he was also a lawyer, Raith carried a healthy respect for him. Chase went after convicts like a Doberman after a robber. Once he caught a felon by the back of the neck, he didn't release his jaws until he attained a sentence that satisfied him.

  Raith assumed Chase's sister wasn't so focused on justice. If she parked in handicap spots, she probably didn't care so much about fighting for fairness and equality for all. The woman had to be after a quick buck, which once again confirmed she would never find any interest in him. If there was a buck left in Raith's pocket a week after payday, he considered himself lucky.

  "So what're you doing slinking around here if you don't do criminals?" he asked, leaning against a nearby wall and crossing his forearms over his chest.

  Willow turned partially away, but glanced teasingly over her shoulder at him with a conspiratorial smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  Raith glowered. "Yes, I would. You're in my territory now, DeVane. If you want something here, you have to play nice with me."

  She sighed, came back around, and finally got down to business. "Well, then." She tugged on the hem of her jacket to straighten the nonexistent wrinkles. "In that case, I'm representing a certain gentleman who's in the process of a divorce. And it just so happens he was arrested last night. I've already called a bondsman for him, so he should be released soon if he hasn't been already."

  "You work divorce cases?" Raith asked, straightening away from the door. How in the hell had he not known that before? He hated divorce lawyers most of all.

  "I do," Willow answered huskily. "That's my specialty actually. Why? What's it to you?"

  He scowled. If it weren't for his own divorce lawyer, he would probably be going home tonight to name brand beer and something other than rice or pasta.

  "Divorce lawyers are the scum of the earth. It's people like you who have me paying alimony out the ass. Do you know how many bills I could make on time if three-fourths of my check wasn't being sucked dry by some woman I can't even stand? All of them, that's how many."

  Willow blinked as if bewildered. "You're divorced?" Then she sniffed. "Why am I not surprised?"

  Raith narrowed his eyes. "Ha, ha."

  "Seriously, Malloy." She offered him the hint of a smile that made his stomach tighten with desire. "If you wanted to avoid so much alimony, you should've come to me. I would've gotten you out of it."

  He snorted. She probably would've lost him his entire check instead of merely three-fourths of it. "I doubt you were even ten years old back when I booted out the old battle ax."

  "And just how young do you think I am?" Willow's expression told him how much she didn't appreciate his nasty comment.

  Not wanting to delve any further into personal conversation because it would only torture him more, misleading him into believing he might actually have a chance with her, Raith stonily asked, "Who're you here to see?"

  Willow lifted her brows. "My, my. Changing the subject, are we? You must be much older than I originally imagined."

  His gaze narrowed. "Who're you here to see?"

  She pulled back, undoubtedly startled by his tone, and cleared her throat. "Um, Theodore Franklin."

  Shaking his head in disgust, he snorted. "Dear God, you really do defend scum bags, don't you?" He held up his hand, motioning her to stay put. "Wait here. I'll check his status."

  He hurried off, thinking he had narrowly been saved from making an utter idiot of himself. Because if she ever discovered how he didn't give a damn how young she was—he would take her any way he could get her— She would forever have a reason to mock him. No way would he give her the upper hand in this pissing contest they had going. Hiding his lust was top priority.

  ~ * ~

  Willow sighed as Deputy Malloy stalked away. He had to be more arrogant, rude, and prickly than any man she had ever met. But my, oh my, did he have a nice butt. She took a moment to enjoy his tight, narrow buns of steel strolling off before she turned and settled into an uncomfortable waiting chair, crossing her legs and impatiently swinging one high-heeled foot back and forth.

  If Malloy wasn't such a royal pain, she would probably be after him like sesame seeds on a hamburger bun. Something intrinsically primal about him always managed to entice all her hormones into coming alive in his presence. Willow just knew she could have fun with a big, tough cop like him.

  She sighed a little over the fact she would never get to find out just how much of a good time as the door opened and a correctional officer escorted Theo, dressed in his street clothes, into the lobby.

  Setting her briefcase on the floor by the chair, Willow pushed to her feet. When Franklin glanced her way with an indignant sneer, she made a little sound of disgust, realizing the next couple of minutes were probably going to turn nasty.

  "Theo, Theo, Theo," she murmured, her voice thick with disapproval. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

  She shook her head sadly as she took in the deep scratch marks on his cheek, trailing down his throat and disappearing into his collar. This particular client could never lay claim to being the brightest crayon in the box to start with, but she began to doubt her own intelligence for taking him on in the first place as he skipped a polite greeting an
d instantly began demanding.

  "I need a ride home." He marched toward her, coming entirely too close for her comfort.

  Willow ignored the instinctive need to edge a wary step back. "In a minute. Let's discuss a few things first."

  Franklin frowned, looking blank. "'Bout what?"

  Willow almost rolled her eyes. "About your arrest record, Theo." She managed to remain calm. But honestly, she wanted to shake him senseless. "I thought I told you the last time you were incarcerated I'd drop you as a client if you were arrested again for some senseless—"

  "Look, I don't need a sermon from you, bitch—"

  "Watch yourself, Franklin," the lingering correctional officer warned, "or you'll find yourself back behind bars."

  As Theo snarled at the deputy, Willow scowled as well, thinking he wouldn't have thought twice about letting a male lawyer defend himself from his client, or probably even a tough-looking butch woman lawyer. It rankled that he didn't believe she could handle her own situation. She almost snorted and asked him if he was chauvinist Malloy's protégé.

  But, well aware she could get better results using honey rather than vinegar, Willow patted the man's arm and smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, barely able to actually look grateful as she took Theo's elbow and coaxed him back around to face her. "But I can handle this."

  Honey-approach working, the officer gazed back and returned her smile. "Yes, ma'am." He obligingly stepped back.

  She hadn't even fully turned from him when her client continued with his rant. "How much longer are you going to make me stand here and listen to this shit? I got places to be."

  Willow sighed. "I need answers first. Now, what did you do to get

  yourself arrested?"

  "That's nothing to concern yourself with," he answered evasively, unable to meet her intense, probing stare. "Just get me the hell outta here."

  Tapping her toe to keep from saying something spiteful, Willow managed to hold her tongue for a second. Then she calmly answered, "Since I'm presently your lawyer, all legal issues regarding you are indeed my concern. I can't help you unless I know what I'm dealing with. Therefore, you need to cooperate with me, or I'll let you walk home."

  He lurched intimidatingly closer. "Listen, you stupid cow—"

  "No, you listen, Theo. I'm through with your insolence. Find yourself a new lawyer."

  Stumbling to a stop, he sputtered, "What? You can't do that."

  Willow lifted an amused brow. "I most certainly can. Now, what did you do to get yourself arrested?"

  He stalled another moment, glaring. But adept at the mortal staredown, Willow won, and he broke his gaze first.

  "I saw Lashonda last night," he mumbled, glancing away.

  Willow's shoulders fell when she heard the name of his ex-wife. "You broke your restraining order?"

  "He kicked her door in and wrecked the place," the interrupting officer was more than happy to divulge. "Busted the woman's jaw too."

  Shifting from one leg to the other, the tall, incredibly stout Theo shrugged. "I wanted to see my kids."

  Willow rolled her eyes but held in a tired sigh. "You see your girls once every month at your scheduled meeting."

  He snorted. "As if that's enough."

  This time, there was no containing the sigh in her lungs. "I understand your desire to see them more. But if you had just taken my advice and found a job, gotten a decent place to live, stopped hanging around your crack-dealing friends, and learned to control your temper, then the court would've let you have more time with them a month ago. Now, they're not going to—"

  "Look," he interrupted. "I'm sick of hearing you yap all the time. Will you cut the lame lecture and break me out of here already?"

  Willow paused. "Oh, hell no. You're wife's only had that order against you for three days. Three days! You're never going to see your kids again if you keep acting like a dumb idiot. You need to pull your head out of your ass and straighten up. And that's my final bit of legal advice for you. We're finished."

  As she turned to march off, he shouted after her. "Hey! You don't know nothing about what's going on."

  "I know you're a fool," Willow called over her shoulder.

  She was only five feet from the exit when his outraged roar warned her of trouble. With no time to brace herself, she wasn't at all prepared when he slammed into her from behind, tackling her to the ground.

  Two

  Willow's skull bounced against the concrete floor. Stars immediately rotated around her head. But she never lost consciousness. Not even when Theo Franklin wrapped his meaty hands around her neck and squeezed.

  She flailed under her heavy, sweat-sticky client for barely two seconds before a door flew open, slamming against the wall, and eight pair of county-issue combat boots flooded her very limited field of vision. A cacophony of shouting followed, and the weight of Theo Franklin was instantly ripped off her.

  Unable to move just yet, Willow continued to lie limp and useless with her face pressed against the cool, smooth concrete. As she sucked in sweet, life-giving air, she decided the county needed to sweep and mop more often. Their floor was just plain nasty.

  Sprawled on her stomach for what felt like hours but more realistically was barely seconds, she attempted to regain her scrambled senses. When she finally lifted her face, the county boys were still struggling to restrain and handcuff Theo. Three men provided a fort between her and her ex-client, keeping him from returning to her, while one brawny forearm wrapped around his neck, choking him from behind, and dragged him away.

  Willow squinted and could've sworn the guy with his arm pinning Franklin's windpipe was the sexy Deputy Malloy. But with black dots dancing in her eyes, she could barely make out Theo much less the face looming over his shoulder. The expression snarled into his features was so fierce, Willow shivered and told herself she never wanted to get on that man's bad side. Then she frowned, remembering she already was Malloy's least favorite person on earth.

  Either four men or one really personable octopus tried to help her up, all the hands tugging her in different directions, smothering her almost as badly as Franklin had.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Ms. DeVane, where does it hurt?"

  "Can you sit up?"

  "I'm fine," she mumbled, beginning to struggle against the unwanted

  attention. When no one seemed to hear her, she snapped, "I'm fine! Please, just give me a minute. Alone."

  Finally, the hands left her, and footsteps respectfully shuffled off.

  Blinking to clear her vision, she slowly and hesitantly sat up, only to wince at the pain spiking through her temples. It hurt so bad she nearly vomited all over the dirty concrete, which would've been a real shame because she had stopped by her sister-in-law's restaurant that morning for breakfast and eaten the most delicious omelet. She bet her paycheck it was tastier going down than coming up.

  Muttering under her breath about stupid, restraining order-breaking ex-clients, Willow worked past the agony and wobbly pushed to her feet. She had to press a hand against the wall to steady herself, and even then, she swayed for a moment until her equilibrium settled and her stomach stopped heaving.

  Grateful the room had cleared of all men, providing her with a moment of privacy, she pulled herself back together before anyone could see her rattled. But, gawd. No one had ever attempted to kill her before.

  Trembling, she bit her lip and desperately checked the impulse to cry. Yet the threat of tears already stung her eyes.

  "Jerk," she grumbled to the absent Theo. No one scared Willow DeVane and made her bawl. She had a reputation to uphold. Crybaby lady lawyers got no respect.

  Willow brushed her quivering fingers down her clothes to wipe away all sign of wrinkles and floor grime. She might be as shaken as a James Bond drink but she certainly didn't have to look it.

  Still, as she swept dirt and small pebbles off her banged knees, she cursed. "Perfect. I have a run in my hose."

  "You just about got a w
hole hell of a lot more than that," a voice growled as a large hand grabbed her already-sore elbow and jerked her upright.

  Willow's eyes flared, and more dizziness assailed her. If the man's grip hadn't been holding her steady, she might've tumbled flat on her face.

  She blinked Malloy into focus, irritated by the flash of comfort she felt realizing it was him. For a nanosecond, temptation urged her to fling herself into his arms and burrow into his chest so she could sob her eyes out.

  But he didn't look too willing to play nursemaid. The man was livid. His reddening cheeks and clenched teeth were nothing compared to the icy chill in his gaze. Willow paused with a thoughtful frown, realizing she had never before noticed how incredibly blue his eyes were.