To Love, Honor And Defend. Beth Cornelison

captor was an immovable wall of muscle.

      The prosecutor in her cut through the haze of fear. Look at his face. Make a mental picture so you can give a description.

      Assuming she got away.

      Her stubborn will rejected the voice of doubt. She would get away. No way would she become a statistic.

      Fighting his hold on her mouth, she angled her head. The light from her Camry spilled through the open door and illuminated his chiseled jaw, raven hair and laser-blue eyes.

      A face she knew. Intimately.

      “Hello, Libby,” Cal drawled. “Long time no see.”

      Libby’s face, already pale with fright, blanched a shade whiter. Cal frowned and eased his grip on her arm. Something had her spooked. Badly. She’d bolted through the door from the stairs as if she had the hounds of hell on her heels.

      “Are you all right, Lib?”

      The bedroom-brown eyes he remembered were now bright with fear and glanced nervously around the empty parking garage. But was she looking for someone to help her or searching for whatever demon had had her racing for her car?

      The idea that she could be afraid of him gnawed his gut. No matter how much he hated what she’d done to his life, the years she’d stolen from him, the job he’d lost, he wasn’t the kind of man who’d harm a woman. In all the months they’d spent together, hadn’t she at least learned that about him?

      “Mmmr wwrm,” she mumbled from under his hand.

      His scowl deepened, and he nailed her with a no-nonsense glare. “I’ll let go of your mouth if you promise not to scream again. That last screech busted my ears.”

      Her dark eyes flashed indignantly.

      Oh, yes, he remembered her stubborn pride. A steel will ran through her, equal to her passion. And her compassion.

      He needed to reach her tender heart and her inordinate sense of responsibility today. She was his last hope, his only hope. Besides, she owed him.

      Slowly he pulled his hand away, keeping a wary eye on her.

      “How dare you scare me like that! What were you thinking? You deserve a face full of pepper spray for that stunt! Of all the—”

      She swung at him.

      But twenty-four months in prison had sharpened his reflexes, taught him to be quick on his feet and have eyes in the back of his head. He easily blocked her fist and pinned her wrist to the car. “Whoa! Settle down. What stunt are you talking about?”

      She rolled her eyes then turned an icy glare on him. “On the stairs? The ‘I’m gonna get you, bitch’ crack? Following me, hiding from me, purposely freaking me out?”

      The stairs? He thought about the terror that had filled her face when she’d burst through the garage door and run for her car. Unease jerked a knot in his gut. He cut a sharp glance to the stairs then back to Libby. “Someone followed you on the stairs? Did they hurt you?”

      What had she said about a comment using the term bitch? His disquiet ratcheted up a notch.

      She yanked her arm from his grip and righted her silk blouse. The soft fabric clung to her curves and made no secret of the feminine body beneath. “You’re not funny. What were you trying to prove?”

      “It wasn’t me.”

      “Yeah, right.” As she moved to climb into her Camry, he grabbed her arm and brought her dark eyes back to his. She pressed her lips in a thin line of irritation.

      “I’ve been over there in my truck waiting for you for over an hour.” With a hitch of his head, he directed her gaze to his dilapidated Chevy.

      Suspicion narrowed her eyes but soon gave way to the pale, shaken look she’d worn when he’d first approached her. “You weren’t just on the stairs? You swear?”

      He snorted. “Not that my word has ever carried any weight with you, but…yeah, I swear.” He felt the shudder that raced through her, and his chest tightened. Releasing her arm, he cast another look toward the stairwell door. “Want me to go check it out? See if anybody’s in there?”

      Stiffly she shook her head and sank onto the front seat. “I’m sure whoever was there is long gone now.”

      Her cheeks had regained most of their color. She pulled her lips into a pinched frown and raised her chin. “If I find out you’re lying, I won’t hesitate to have you hauled in for harassing an officer of the court.”

      Clenching his teeth, he fought down the rise of bile that rose in his throat. The last thing he needed was to give his parole officer an excuse to send him back to prison. “I thought you’d already done that. Isn’t that what the last two years of my life have been about? Your revenge for my leaving you to marry Renee?”

      Her eyes flickered with shock, and her lips parted in protest. “I didn’t—”

      “Trust me, marriage to Renee was a punishment in itself. Ally’s the only good thing to come from that mistake.”

      Libby’s expression softened a degree at the mention of Ally. Maybe his mission wasn’t a lost cause.

      As quickly as the tenderness appeared, it dissipated, replaced with hard-edged anger. “Your prison time had nothing to do with us and everything to do with the fact that you attacked a man!”

      “My actions were justified! Was I supposed to stand back and let him beat the hell out of that woman?”

      Libby threw her hands up and shook her head.

      She jabbed a well-manicured finger in his chest and drilled him with a stony glare. He remembered that stare from the courtroom two years ago. Cold. Flat. Void of emotion. “Save it. It’s over, and I won’t debate this with you.”

      She tried to close her door, and he blocked it. “Hang on. There’s something else we need to discuss.”

      With a trace of suspicion still coloring her expression, she tipped her head. “What?”

      Cal straightened and met her eyes. This was it. Everything he cared about rode on convincing Libby to go along with his plan. Drawing a deep breath, he plunged in. “I need your help.”

      She scoffed. “My help? Why?”

      He crouched down to her eye level. When he braced a hand on the headrest by her cheek and leaned toward her, she stiffened. He moved close enough to smell the subtle musk scent of her perfume, close enough to feel her breath on his face, close enough to hear the sexy catch in her breath. His own pulse scrambled from the proximity.

      Damn! She still affected him. Mesmerized him. Tortured him.

      “Because the way I see it, you owe me.”

      She frowned and rolled her shoulders, clearly struggling to keep her cool. “I don’t owe you squat, Walters.”

      He tensed as if she’d kicked him in the teeth. He’d expected this reaction from her, but that didn’t make it easier to take. Curling his fingers into fists, he plowed on, struggling to rein in his temper. It wouldn’t serve his cause to blow up at her now, put her on the defensive.

      “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t have anything to do with your office’s hardball negotiation on my plea agreement. Tell me that during my sentencing you didn’t once think about how I hurt you when I married Renee.”

      Surprise flitted across her sculpted, heaven-sent face.

      “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

      She knitted her brow and turned away, but not before he glimpsed the pain in her eyes. Taking her chin in his hand, he angled her face toward him, felt her tremble.

      The wall of her defenses came up in her eyes. The cold, blank prosecutor look returned. “What do you want,