The Prosecutor Read online

  She did as instructed. Calm. Collected. Controlled. Everything he wasn’t as he recalled how the damn piece of metal had gotten there in the first place. She was alive. She was safe. She was a target, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. He’d already lost too much. He couldn’t lose her, too. A metallic ping registered off the surface of the table. “It’s out. Now what?”

  “Now you hand me the gauze and tape and rest while I check the security system and make us some lunch.” He stood, overshadowing her by more than a foot and a hundred pounds. Despite their differences in size, she’d taken on far more dangerous predators in her line of work without a single crack in that confident expression. Predators like the Rip City Bomber. Madison Gray had risen above a past determined to break her in every way. As long as he’d known her, there was no blockade she couldn’t get through, and damn, if he didn’t admire her for it.

  “Suit yourself.” She handed over the roll of tape and gauze and turned away from him toward the grand staircase leading up to the second level. Halfway between the dining room table and the stairs, she slowed. Hesitation bled into her stride. Sections of damaged hair slid across her back as she turned to face him. “You put yourself between me and that device in the courtroom, knowing you’d take the brunt of the blast if it hadn’t diverted to the outer wall of the building. Was that because you were trying to protect me? Or protect the baby?”

  Bits and pieces of memory flashed across his mind. Holding his baby boy for the first time, the smile on Noah’s face as the infant had felt and heard his own stomach growl, Jonah counting the number of chubby leg rolls and squeezing each one of them to make his son laugh. There’d been so many of those moments and not enough at the same time. He never should’ve accepted the assignment to Afghanistan. Maybe if he hadn’t—if he’d stayed—Noah would still be here. But now the hardened deputy district attorney in front of Jonah was asking him if he’d put his own life in danger for their child or for her, and he couldn’t ignore the hint of past vulnerability breaking the evenness of her voice. “I didn’t want to lose either of you.”

  Not again.

  * * *

  THE SUPERFICIAL CUT across her head stung as Madison ran a brush through her wet hair. White marble gleamed across the two-sink vanity stocked with fresh towels, fragranced lotions and a single bottle of cinnamon-spiced aftershave. Turquoise tile surrounded the spacious walk-in shower and the wall behind the freestanding tub, white hexagon tiles heating under her feet. This bathroom—this cabin—had been built and decorated with every luxury she could imagine. From the massive wall of windows in the master bedroom right down to the color of the wood running the length of the entire structure. There was an atmosphere of comfort here, so thick she could see herself on solid ground. Steam clung to the wood-framed mirror over the sink she’d chosen to use to put herself back together. Only she wasn’t sure that was possible this time.

  Small scratches stood bright against the backdrop of the deeper olive tones of her skin, down her neck, across the backs of her hands. She could still feel the heat of the blast that’d singed across her arms. Parting the luxurious robe she’d found hanging from a hook beside the shower, too big for her, Madison curved her palms over the protruding bump of her belly. Not a scratch. Not a bruise. How much worse would her injuries have been if Jonah hadn’t been there? Would she have been able to get herself out of the courtroom if another marshal had taken the judicial security assignment this morning? The answer was already on the tip of her tongue as she recalled his expression when she’d asked if he’d risked his life for her or for their baby. It’d been as though he’d taken the weight of the entire world on at that moment and could barely keep himself upright. Seeing the reserved, practical marshal who’d saved her life—who’d been her friend for so long—break in front of her had crumbled the defensive strategy she’d prepared for herself faster than the attack had. Right then, the walls she’d built to keep herself and this baby safe from dependency had cracked, and she wasn’t sure, when it came to Jonah, she’d ever be strong enough to repair them.

  Madison hugged the oversize robe around her tighter, hints of that cinnamon-spiced aftershave tickling the back of her throat, and stepped back into the master bedroom. The cathedral ceiling stretched overhead as she paved a trail across the pure white comforter and sheets expertly tucked over the king-size bed with her fingers. She didn’t know what it was about this room in particular, how she was supposed to feel being here. She and Jonah weren’t together. They weren’t lovers. They weren’t friends. Why would he bring her here? The United States Marshal Service had safe houses all over the state. He could’ve taken her to any number of them, but he’d brought her to a place that obviously meant more to him than he’d let on before. Was this where he intended to raise their baby if she’d agreed to him being part of her life?

  Dressing in an oversize pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt she’d found in the massive walk-in closet, Madison skimmed the rich gray carpet with her bare toes. Aches and pains stiffened her steps as she circled the large master bedroom. It was perfect in every way. Spacious, welcoming, warm with the fireplace in the corner. The white trim and gray walls soothed the nervous energy skittering up her spine and urged her to fall back on the bed to rest. To stop the constant analysis of each and every moment she and Jonah were together, stop trying to read between the lines and questioning his motives, stop fighting and just...be. When was the last time she’d let herself be still?

  The entire cabin was a representation of everything she’d imagined as a child, but reality had never allowed for such dreams. Survival won out over fantasy every day her mother allowed herself and her only daughter to take the abuse her father had handed out. As if they’d deserved the pain for merely existing.

  But Madison wasn’t that scared little girl anymore.

  She’d taken scholarships to put herself through law school, worked harder than any other classmate to get herself on the path to district attorney and vowed never to let anyone get in her way or hold her back. The truth was she couldn’t stop. Not until she proved herself. To her father, who’d promised she’d always be useless, helpless and have to rely on him to get through life, to anyone who’d looked her in the face and told her she’d never have the determination, talent or drive to follow through with her dreams. That they were impossible for a woman like her. One mistake. That was all it’d take, and her future would be ripped out from under her.

  It wasn’t this room asking for her to give in. It was the man who’d brought her here, the marshal she’d put aside everything she believed in for the smallest chance of experiencing what it would feel like to be cared for.

  Madison wrenched the bedroom door open harder than she intended and ran straight into a mountain of muscle on the other side. Warmth shot through her as she clasped onto his arm to stabilize herself. Jonah. Strong muscle flexed under her hand, and her mouth dried as memories of how those muscles surrounded her six short months ago lit up in her brain. She stepped back. “I didn’t realize you were outside the door.”

  “I wasn’t spying on you if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

  She hadn’t thought of that. “Well, I wasn’t until now.”

  “I wanted to bring you something to eat. I’m not sure if anything makes you nauseous or sick right now, so I tried to stick to some basics I had in the fridge. I got you some strawberries, cashews and crackers.” His deep, rumbling laugh invaded the cracks in the wall she’d had to hide behind each time she’d run into him in the courthouse. Jonah stared down at the plate in his hand. “I didn’t have any of those chips you like, but I had some dill pickles in the fridge. Thought you might like those, as well.”

  He’d done all this for her? She reached for the plate, that same heat coiling in her belly charging up her neck and into her face. She couldn’t think of a single instance where someone had made her a full-blown meal, not even as
a child. She’d mostly lived off of whatever’d she been able to barter from her school friends. Clutching the plate to her middle with both hands, as though she could use the glass as a shield against him, she leveled her chin parallel with the floor. “Thank you. For everything. Not just the food.”

  “It’s the least I can do seeing as how you’re one of the few people who can have me fired.” He leaned against the door frame with that gut-wrenching smile she couldn’t get enough of in place. The way he was looking at her right then... It almost felt as though the past few months hadn’t happened, that nothing had changed between them, and a comforting familiarity washed through her. She’d missed that, but more than that, she’d missed him. That smile of his, the way he always seemed to be trying to read her mind. The slide of his hand against her arm when he’d tried to stop her from going ahead of him while he was assigned to escort her out of the courthouse. At first, she’d withdrawn into herself and battled to keep her distance, but after a while, she’d come to crave that touch, that connection to him.

  Then she’d found out she was pregnant.

  Madison carved a dent into her index finger with the edge of the plate he’d handed her. “Have the police been able to trace the caller who took credit for the bombing?”

  “Call came from a burner phone purchased about thirty minutes prior to the bombing from one of the electronics stores around the block. Paid in cash. No security footage and the phone has been turned off,” he said.

  “It’s untraceable.” She’d prosecuted enough cases to know the phone would be a dead end, but it wasn’t nothing. There was a chance—however small—that when the bomb squad analyzed and re-created the device, they’d be able to follow the incoming call to the phone used to detonate the bomb. Perhaps the bomber had made a mistake in using the same phone to trigger the device and make the call to take credit for the devastation. “How many dead?”

  An emptiness slipped into his gaze, and her heart jerked in her chest at the rapid change. So different from the swirl of blue she’d gotten used to when he looked at her, but she couldn’t blame him either. Lives had been taken right in front of them, the echoes of their screams still clear in her head. “Eight so far. Victims who were sitting closest to the device in the gallery. Some media, a few family members. Twenty-six wounded, one in critical condition.”

  “Have the marshals been able to find the judge or the bailiff?” Getting a new judge to take on this case would alter the timeline of sentencing the Rip City Bomber for what she’d done. Madison couldn’t afford to have the case take another year, and Rosalind Eyler deserved to rot behind bars sooner rather than later.

  “Turns out the bailiff saved the judge’s life. Got him out of there right before the bomb detonated.” Jonah straightened, suddenly so much...bigger than she remembered. “I checked that entire courtroom and the schedule, Maddi. The preliminary hearing time wasn’t announced to the public until an hour before court proceedings started. There was no way someone outside of the case could’ve gotten into that courtroom to plant the device in the HVAC system.”

  She nodded, still clutching the plate in her hands. It wasn’t his words she had to focus on but the meaning, too. Whoever’d triggered that bomb had intimate knowledge of her, her schedule and the case. Only a handful of people were privy to that information, but no one she would’ve suspected to try to kill her. She couldn’t forget the bomber had called to take credit in the Rip City Bomber’s name, too. Why? “The HVAC system would’ve been put in during the courthouse’s construction. The crew finished a month ago. Whoever planted the device only would’ve had access to that location if it’d been open.”

  “I’ll have my team look into the contractors and their employees and anyone who might’ve toured that courtroom up until it was finished.” He reached out, taking her hand between both of his, and her stomach flipped. “In the meantime, we can’t discount the possibility Rosalind Eyler has wanted you dead from the beginning and will do whatever it takes to walk free. Either way, I’m not going to let that happen.”

  Chapter Four

  Jonah shoved the tablet away from him across the coffee table. Heat crawled up the back of his neck from the wood-burning stove a few feet behind him. After scrubbing the hollows of his eyes with calloused palms, he set his elbows on his knees.

  According to Deputy Marshal Dylan Cove—the newest marshal in the Oregon division—the construction crew who’d been contracted to build the new courthouse had all checked out. Each and every single one of them. As a former private investigator out of the east, Cove had the ability to dig past the surface. He was more than capable of uncovering the truth, but nothing had jumped out at Jonah as he reviewed the deputy’s report. Not a single worker on that job site had a connection to the Rip City Bomber as far as Cove had been able to tell. No financial struggles. No blackmail material. Nothing that got Jonah closer to finding who’d targeted Madison and his baby. “Damn it.”

  “And here I was under the impression only Marshal Reed believed he was a superhero, what with him wearing those shirts all the time.” Madison’s sweet voice, so clearly tinted with exhaustion, soothed the frustrated energy climbing up his spine. She was supposed to be resting, taking it easy. But one thing he’d learned about Madison Gray over the years was that she didn’t know the meaning of slowing down. From the moment her feet hit the floor in the morning to the minute she closed her eyes at night, she’d dedicated her entire career—her life—to serving justice. Same as he had, but their shared professional interest was only one of the things that’d brought them together.

  Jonah interlaced his fingers, driving them down the bridge of his nose, then to his chin as he raised his gaze to meet hers on the open second-level landing. “I’d tell you you’re supposed to be sleeping, but I’ve known you long enough to know I’d probably have a high heel thrown at my face if I dared question your work habits.”

  “This basketball you so elegantly implanted in my uterus makes it hard to sleep anymore.” Long fingers curled over the edge of the banister, the sweats and T-shirt she’d picked out from his closet hiding the lean figure underneath. Having pulled her hair back, she accentuated the scrapes and bruises along her cheek, head and neck, and his gut clenched. “His late-night dance parties ensure I have to use the bathroom in thirty-minute intervals.”

  Jonah’s hands dropped between his knees as he stared up at her. Shock held him in place as the past rushed to meet the present. “Did you say ‘his’?”

  Rolling perfect lips between her teeth, Madison took to the stairs until she stood in front of him. A rush of heat that had nothing to do with the stove behind him exploded from his chest. “I found out a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to wait. I’m... We’re having a boy.”

  “We’re having a boy.” He couldn’t believe it, but more important than that, for the first time she’d included him in the pregnancy. She wasn’t having a boy. They were. “That’s...” He didn’t know what to say. Jonah stepped into her, wrapping her in his arms. Rigidity infused the muscles down her back a moment before she relaxed into him, and the world, the investigation, the fact they’d barely walked out of the courthouse alive this morning faded. The sweet scent of peach tickled the back of his throat, instantly throwing him back to that night they’d taken their friendship to the next level, and his gut tightened.

  She settled back onto the four corners of her toes, her mouth a mere two inches from his. Her exhale tangled with his as time froze, stretching into a comfortable beat from one second to the next. Those mesmerizing caramel eyes flickered up to his, and before he had the chance to close the space between them, she rose up onto her toes and set her mouth against his.

  His heart stopped as she slipped her tongue past the seam of his lips and reminded his addictive neural pathways how she tasted, but before he had a chance to process what’d changed in these last few minutes, Madison pulled back.

  “I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean... I don’t know what I was thinking.” A humorless laugh escaped from between her lips as she seemingly forced her hand to slip from his uninjured shoulder. “This day has been...a lot, and I had no right to try to make myself feel better about what happened by misleading you again.”

  Again. Right. Because whatever’d happened between them hadn’t meant anything, wouldn’t ever mean anything, to her. This was another classic example of simply biology. She’d been through hell today and barely survived. Her nervous system was craving something familiar, something soothing, and he had no reason to believe whatever connection they’d had would be anything more than superficial.

  “I understand.” Jonah stepped back, the feel of her hips still a phantom weight in his palms. Hell. Reality bled into focus. One slip in involving him in this pregnancy didn’t change the fact she’d make sure to go out of her way to raise this baby alone. As much as it hurt to know what they’d had together would stay in the past, she’d made it perfectly clear she wasn’t willing to make room in her life for him. When this investigation was finished, she and the baby would move on with their lives. Without him. That was what she wanted, and short of meeting her on the other side of a courtroom similar to the one they’d nearly died in this morning, he’d concede to her wishes. “I’m really happy for you, about the baby.”

  “Thank you.” Brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she stepped toward the tablet still glowing from the coffee table and bent to read the screen. “The deputy you asked to look into a viable suspect from the construction crew didn’t find anything tangible. No motives, no sudden influx in bank deposits, or connections between the Rip City Bomber and any of them. Nothing more than a few parking tickets and one DUI.” She swiped her index finger across the screen to continue through the report. “The chemical composition of the courtroom bomb matches the makeup of the Rip City Bomber devices. Looks like Marshal Cove’s leading theory is Rosaline Eyler is trying to sway the jury in her favor. Prove whoever set off those four bombs around the city is still out there while she’s behind bars.”