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Then he started toward her. But with every stride he prowled forward, she countered, skittering one backward. Still, his steps were longer and he advanced until they were only inches apart. He watched her swallow nervously.
"Why do you look so scared?"
"Why do you look so predatory?" she shot back.
He smiled wolfishly, only emphasizing her point. "Because I feel predatory."
She frowned. "I hope you don't expect me to act the helpless prey?"
"Helpless?" He laughed. "I couldn't even begin to picture you helpless."
Her nod showed approval. "Good answer, Malloy. You must be looking to get lucky."
"Not looking." He reached out and curved his large palm around the back of her head, drawing her closer. "I've already found." Everything he'd ever wanted in a woman.
He kissed her. She made a sound against his mouth, startled yet hungry. It went straight to his loins. He needed her fast and hot and now. Growling in primal urgency, he grabbed two handfuls of her butt and picked her up. Her legs automatically wound around his hips. Raith continued to kiss her as he carried her all the way to her room, where he let her fall back on her bed and crawled over her.
"I want my mouth on you." He kissed her again as he worked to undo the buttons on her shirt.
"You won't hear any complaints from me," Willow rasped.
And he didn't.
Eleven
Another week passed. Raith continued to daydream about DeVane. In fact, that's exactly what he was doing as he left the county attorney's office at the courthouse after discussing a case with Rodney Hale, an assistant county attorney who acted as the juvenile prosecutor.
Hale had agreed to meet Raith to discuss filing a charge against three teens he'd caught a few months before, smoking pot behind the high school.
"Shit head," he muttered, shoving his way from the office and putting a little extra force into the door as he pushed it open, venting his rage as best he could.
From the way Hale acted, the teenagers' offence was no big deal. He dragged his feet on the case, driving Raith insane. Situations like this made him wonder why he even bothered. He worked his butt off, trying to make the world a better place for people who actually obeyed the laws. Yet his efforts didn't mean squat when the damn lawyer refused to do anything about it.
He wished someone would just scare the crap out of those boys with a hefty sentence and make them straighten their act. H
e wished Willow's brother handled juvenile cases, because Chase's co-assistant county attorney, Hale, would let the defense plead their case down until they would barely get a slap on the hand, if he even bothered to file a charge against them. The next night, they'd be out on the streets, breaking the law all over again. Raith would be dealing with them their entire lives, arresting them for stupid, petty crimes.
It was sad and depressing.
He'd done his part, catching them and taking them to juvie jail. It would be nice if someone would pick up where his job left off and continue the punishment. But that someone definitely wasn't going to be Rodney Hale.
Still upset with the man's blasé behavior, Raith jogged down the stairs to get to the exit as fast as he could before he talked himself into turning right back around and retuning to Hale so he could tell the louse exactly what he thought of him
Once he made it to the ground level however, he caught sight of a few of his co-workers gathered together. The tallest of the group, a slim blond with a goatee, whose name was Greggor, stood between two shorter men in uniform.
Greggor was the regular court security officer and could always be found somewhere, roaming the building. The shortest of the trio, Lewis, was a little overweight and possessed a baby-face, making him look like he wasn't a day over fifteen. He held the process server position and had probably stopped by the courthouse to pick up an assortment of legal documents—like subpoenas, divorce papers, eviction notices, and restraining orders—to serve to citizens. Hinton, who was actually the youngest, stood dressed in his formal duds, which told Raith he was here to testify in some court case. As Raith changed directions to greet them, they paused their discussion to welcome him.
"Hey, Malloy," Greggor said, stepping aside to let him join the circle. "You heard about Wilmer yet?"
Raith slowed to a stop and frowned. "No." Dean Wilmer was a road deputy and had recently confessed to him how badly he was getting burned out. Instantly concerned, he asked, "What happened?"
"He quit. Just walked in, turned in his shit, and said he couldn't do it anymore."
"Christ," Raith muttered. A shiver of fear rippled up the back of his neck. At times, he grew tired of it all. There were definitely more pitfalls than there were benefits in his line of work. But he hoped to God it never bothered him to the point he'd up and quit. Law enforcement was his life. It was in his blood. He didn't know what he'd do with himself if he wasn't a cop.
"We're already down a deputy from when Thomson transferred to Marion County," Hinton was saying. "Now with Wilmer gone, we'll really be working our asses off." He cursed under his breath and added, "I'm never going to see my wife and kids again."
Raith wasn't so worried about that aspect. He was always willing to work extra hours and make some overtime. Then again, he didn't have anyone to go home to each night like most of his buddies. At that depressing realization, one face popped into his mind. He wasn't sure why he immediately pictured her when he thought about having someone to go home to. Two nights in the sack did not a relationship make. So why was he—
