To Love, Honor And Defend. Beth Cornelison

for that ray of hope in this nightmare.

      “Would you like to address the court before I rule on this plea agreement?” Judge Fitzpatrick asked.

      “Yes, Your Honor.” Cal knew that what he had to say wouldn’t make a bean’s difference. He’d pleaded his case to his attorney, to the police, to Renee. So why repeat himself now? Libby lifted her dark brown eyes to his at that moment, and he knew. He was appealing to her. Maybe she could dismiss all they’d shared, but their months together meant something to him.

      “I deeply regret everything that has happened. If I could change things, I would. Many people have been hurt by my actions, and for that I’m sorry.”

      Libby shifted her weight, her hard, all-business facade cracking. She knew he was addressing her, their history. He could see it in the flash of vulnerability and sadness that drifted over her face. Then she glanced to the spot behind him where Renee sat, and Libby’s sadness morphed into something hard-edged, cold. And vengeful?

      Cal’s pulse jumped. He knew he’d hurt her when he’d married Renee, but he never imagined Libby would retaliate. Had Libby played a part, behind the scenes, in the D.A. office’s tough negotiations on his plea?

      A chill snaked through him. The glint of anger and distrust in Libby’s glare was unmistakable. The acid bite of betrayal gnawed inside him. Didn’t she know how it had killed him to leave her? Didn’t she understand why he’d made the choices he had?

      Cal’s attorney cleared his throat, and Cal realized he’d lapsed into an awkward silence. His muscles tense, he tore his gaze away from Libby and addressed the judge again.

      “My father raised me to respect and defend women.” He took a slow breath to keep the pain of Libby’s injustice out of his voice. He saw the stiff penalty the prosecution had demanded in a new light, and his gut twisted. “I couldn’t sit back and watch Ralston hitting a lady.” Cal took a deep breath and shook his head. “As a firefighter, my job is to protect and save lives. Ms. Dillingham was in danger, so I stepped in. I regret crossing the line with Ralston, but in the same situation, I would still defend any woman.”

      Judge Fitzpatrick arched a bushy eyebrow. “Anything else?”

      Cal clenched his teeth, glanced at Libby again. “No, sir.”

      The judge unfolded the document in front of him and read, “Calvin Rutledge Walters, in accordance with the plea agreement reached with the Lagniappe, Louisiana, District Attorney’s office, this court accepts your guilty plea to the charge of aggravated battery and sentences you to serve no less than two years and no more than five years in the parish correctional institution.”

      Cal’s knees almost buckled, but he stood firm by sheer will.

      He couldn’t be certain, but Cal would have sworn Libby flinched when the gavel slammed down, sealing his fate. Yet while the bailiff snapped handcuffs on his wrists, she congratulated her colleagues on a job well done.

      Renee marched up and shot him a disgusted look. “I’ll be filing for divorce tomorrow. I should’ve done it long ago.”

      “Fine,” he said, still watching Libby revel. “As long as you let me see Ally. You can’t keep me away from my daughter.”

      Renee snorted. “Watch me. You’re hardly in a position to fight for custody.”

      A tremor twisted through Cal as he met Renee’s sneer. What if he lost his rights to see Ally while he was locked away? Ally was all he had left.

      The cold steel handcuffs jerked his arms up as the bailiff led him out of the courtroom. Cal found Libby again as he shuffled toward the door. He gritted his teeth and kept an icy stare pinned on the woman he’d once believed he loved. Libby Hopkins had betrayed everything they’d once shared. He had no doubt she’d encouraged her colleagues’ merciless dealings with him. Her vindictive glare confirmed that she’d sought revenge on him for her broken heart.

      She’d helped destroy his life.

      Chapter 1

      Two years later

      Another letter. Her stalker was nothing if not persistent.

      Libby Hopkins’s hands shook as she stared down at the telltale blue envelope. Dread twisted her stomach, but perverse curiosity, a need to know what she was dealing with made her open the letter and read.

      To the bitch who ruined my life,

      That was an ugly blue suit you wore yesterday. Made you look like a man. Under those suits, I bet you have a hot body. You should dress to show off your assets. Better yet, you should stay home, where a woman belongs, and stop playing the tough lawyer. Do you get a thrill destroying people’s lives? You ruined my life, but I’ll have the last laugh. When you least expect it.

      Shuddering, she crunched the letter in her hand. He knew what she’d worn to court yesterday. He was watching her.

      “Libby?”

      She gasped, and the letter fluttered to the floor. Clapping a hand over her racing heart, she turned toward her office door and flashed an embarrassed grin at her colleague from the D.A.’s office.

      “God, Stan, you scared the daylights out of me.” She stooped to retrieve the letter and tossed it on her desk. “Try to make more noise when you sneak up on someone.”

      Stan Moore grinned and shoved his hands into his pressed and pleated khakis. “Like wear a cowbell maybe?”

      She dropped into her chair. “There’s an interesting idea. You could start a Lagniappe fashion trend.”

      Stan scratched his ear and grimaced. “I’ll pass, thanks.” He nodded toward the letter. “So what had you so engrossed that you didn’t hear me sneaking up? Something break in the Chandler trial?”

      Libby shook her head. “See for yourself. That’s the fifth one I’ve gotten. Same handwriting, same stationery, same language. I’m beginning to take this guy seriously. I admit, I’m spooked.”

      Frowning, Stan took the letter from the desk and read. “Have you reported this to the police?”

      “Yeah. A couple weeks ago. They can’t tell me much. No prints on the letters, and the stationery is pretty generic.”

      He grunted. “And this one? You called it in yet?”

      “Not yet.” Libby rubbed her temple. “I’ve been so tied up with the Chandler case, I hadn’t realized how out of hand this guy had gotten. I’ve had hate mail before—people letting off steam. No real substance. But this guy…” Libby bit down on her bottom lip as she thought back to the earlier letters. “His threats are escalating.”

      Stan tossed the letter onto her desk. “This is way beyond venting steam, Lib.”

      She shivered. “Yeah. I know.”

      “So…” He lifted the receiver of her desk phone and waved it at her. “Shall I report this letter or will you?”

      Sighing, she pried the phone from his hand. “I’ll call it in. But not now. I’m exhausted. Too tired to deal with police questions and protocol.” She hung up the receiver, and Stan frowned. “When I get home. I promise. First, I just want a hot bath and a couple aspirin.”

      Pushing away from her desk, she collected her briefcase and brushed past him. Stan turned as she marched toward the door and continued glaring his disapproval. “You taking home the brief I gave you on the Browning case?”

      She raised her overstuffed briefcase and nodded. “Got it. I’ll go over it tonight and get back with you in the morning.”

      “That’s what I was afraid of. If I know you, you’ll put it first and forget about calling the cops.”

      Her shoulders drooped. “I won’t forget.”

      “Promise me. ’Cause I will call if you don’t. This