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"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.
But damn it, he had dealt with Kettle two years ago, so it really didn't matter if he quit now. Another scumbag convict from his past could always come back to haunt him. He had pissed off plenty of law-breakers in the last decade. So, honestly, the only safe bet for Willow would be to take him out of the equation all together.
Bile rose in this throat again and he closed his eyes, heaving nothing but air. He didn't notice he had company until his stomach had stopped contracting. Seeing movement from the corner of his eye, he jerked up and stopped cold.
"Oh, God," he gasped.
Judge DeVane watched him, his hands in his pockets and his eyes passive and free of any kind of sympathy or even hatred. Raith straightened and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He wasn't ready for this confrontation. He didn't want to hear her father rant and rave about him staying away from her. He already knew he had to leave. He couldn't put her in harm's way again. He had to cut his losses and move on. Then she and Bubble could be safe.
"Look," he started, holding up a hand to ward the judge off. "Just—"
Just what? He had no idea what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to beg for forgiveness and tell the judge he never should've gone anywhere near Willow, but he was too selfish to regret what they'd had together.
"Willow's looking for you," the judge said before Raith could spill out any kind of apology.
Raith blinked. "What?"
"I said Willow's looking for you."
