LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Emma doesn’t drive. The fact we’d been attending the judicial conference together is not exactly a secret. We were on the same panel when she made the inflammatory comments that resulted in all the bad press. Her speech has been all over the news. I’m assuming that’s how this lunatic tracked her down. I just got in the way.”

      Callie thought calling the other woman’s talk “inflammatory” was like calling Ben somewhat good looking—a wild understatement. “Judge Blanton told a criminal defendant he was ‘filth’ as part of her sentencing decision and then reiterated her position in front of a room filled with reporters at your conference,” Callie pointed out.

      Ben’s eyebrow lifted. “I was there for the latter.”

      “Then you know what I’m talking about.”

      “Steve Jenner was a pretty bad guy.”

      Callie knew that. Despite what Ben might think, she read a newspaper now and then. She’d called criminal scum worse names than filth, but she wasn’t a judge. The lack of restraint from the top was the problem. Having judges refer to defendants as inhuman, or worse, strained the appearance of impartiality to the breaking point.

      Though Callie believed there was a special rathole in hell for violent offenders like Jenner, there was a system in place to take care of them. If she wasn’t allowed to ignore the rules, despite how much she might want to, neither could the judges.

      She decided to point out the obvious logic to Ben. “Your friend angered everyone from defendants to the Defense Bar and human rights groups. The press has been all over this story.”

      “I know. I live here and get the newspaper delivered to my house.”

      Everything the man said irritated the crap out of Callie. She wondered if he saved up his smartass comments just for her or if all the women in his life got this treatment. Either way, he had one day to knock it the hell off or she’d shoot him in the foot. Wouldn’t be the first time, and it wasn’t as if she had anything left to lose professionally.

      “My point is that it’s not hard to compile a list of enemies for Judge Blanton,” Callie said.

      His smile came back even wider this time. “Which supports what I’ve been saying. The bomb wasn’t meant for me.”

      He could not be this clueless. “Since you’re sleeping with her—”

      Ben held up a hand. “Friends.”

      “—you’re in danger.”

      Mark pushed away from the bookshelves and stood at the front of the big desk, across from his brother. “Enough arguing. You lose. Like it or not, you’re getting protection.”

      “I don’t want it.”

      Mark snorted. “You don’t get a choice on this. You either accept what I’m offering or you take a leave of absence.”

      The judge’s jaw tightened in response to the threat. “Since when do you run my schedule?”

      “I’ll go right over your head to Heath Samson.”

      “Who?” Callie asked, feeling more than a little ignored.

      “The administrative judge. He runs the courthouse and has to think about all the judges and people in it, not just Ben.” Mark rapped his knuckles against his brother’s desk. “I’ll convince him your presence at work puts everyone in the building in danger.”

      “Do it and I’ll kick your ass.”

      Callie wondered which one of the two uncompromising alpha males would win that brainless battle of testosterone. Mark dealt in strategies and big guns, but she’d bet Ben knew his brother’s weaknesses. Despite his current display of boneheaded tendencies, Ben had earned an impressive list of military honors before his turn on the bench. She’d read his file. She knew all about his sharpshooter days as well as his courthouse days.

      What she didn’t get was his reluctance to take the much-needed protection his brother offered. Apparently Ben thought the judge’s robe worked like a Kevlar shield. Like he was a freaking superhero or something. She would have thought that dodging that fireball the other night would have made him see reason. Just proved her initial reaction to Judge Ben was right: the guy was a bonehead.

      “I will pull whatever string I have to, use any threat, to get you a full-time security detail. This is not up for debate.” Mark’s shoulders stretched even tighter. “You know I’m not fucking around on this.”

      Something in Mark’s dark eyes or stern voice must have gotten through, because Ben exhaled loud enough to be heard in the hallway. “What do you have in mind?”

      “Protection. Covert. A person placed in your office and with you at all times.”

      “So, I was right. A bodyguard.”

      Callie loved this part. She’d been waiting to drop this verbal bombshell. Thought it might give way to a whole new level of jackassery on Ben’s part. “He means me.”

      Ben’s eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

      “I’ll be the one assigned to protect you.”

      “You?”

      “That a problem?”

      The usually well-spoken judge floundered around, stuttering, before he actually came up with a sentence that made some sense. “You weigh a hundred and twenty pounds.”

      If he was trying for flattery…well, he came close with the wild underestimate. “I’m more than qualified.”

      Mark eased back on his fighting stance. Actually unlocked his knees and stopped clenching his jaw every two seconds. “She’s ex-FBI. She’s good.”

      The judge looked at her then. Really looked. His heated gaze roamed up and down before it settled on her face again. “You’re kind of young to be a former anything.”

      Mark shifted his position until he blocked her from Ben’s direct line of sight. She knew the chivalrous move was ingrained, locked somewhere deep in Mark’s protective DNA. Still, despite the mistakes she’d made she didn’t need a champion. Having Ben see her as weak would only make her job tougher.

      Callie stepped out from behind Mark’s shadow and took her position beside him, putting her directly in front of Judge Grumpy Pants. “I’ll be your new assistant.”

      “I have a clerk.”

      “Did I say clerk?”

      Ben’s lips thinned until they almost disappeared. “So that you know, I don’t accept that sarcastic tone from my employees.”

      Talk about an ego problem. “Do you want me to call you Sir? Maybe I should bow when I see you. Wipe your feet when you come in from the outside.”

      “The feet part is unnecessary.”

      Mark slapped his palm against the desk. “Would you two get serious?”

      She had a few insults stuck in her throat but decided to save them until later. “Mark’s right. You have a stalker. That’s what this protection detail is about. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

      Mark nodded. “I already cleared the assignment with Judge Samson. Callie will move in here under the guise of a new judges’ assistant program. She’ll share your office—”

      Ben’s head snapped back. “What?”

      “Where else would I put her?”

      Callie really wasn’t in the mood to be “put” anywhere. “Could we not refer to me as if I were a plant?”

      Ben ignored her. He was too busy grabbing the edge of his desk with enough force to snap off the wood trim. “That is never going to happen.”

      “I can’t really protect you effectively from

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