LITMIR.BIZ

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read over his shoulder. Heard a gruff rumble hit his chest right before he swore. Tensed when he tensed. The big bold letters written in blue ink didn’t say much, but they said enough: It’s Your Turn.

      He slapped the desk before he backed up and paced to the window. “Son of a bitch.”

      “We have to get Mark.” She started to dial but Ben folded his fingers over hers.

      “No.”

      “Ben, this is a direct threat against you. Maybe the bomb had Judge Blanton’s name all over it, but this person, whoever it is, is dropping a not-so-subtle warning about the next time. It could happen in a minute or next week. We don’t know, but we have to be ready.”

      The idea of Ben being in that much danger sent a shot of anger spinning through her. She vowed to keep him safe. No one was going to kill him but her.

      “Callie.” He stepped in close, blocking out her view of the rest of the room. His palms brushed her upper arms in a gesture so intimate she froze.

      He leaned in until his body overwhelmed hers. This close she could see the mix of anger and sadness in his brown eyes. Could smell the shampoo in his still damp hair. She should have stepped back and insisted on a separation between work and play. Instead, her fingers fondled his tie.

      “Don’t ask me to ignore this, Ben. I can’t do it.”

      “I’m asking you to wait.” It was a whispered desperate plea.

      “Trust me on this.”

      This time she found the will to push away. Two more seconds with him right there and he’d be able to talk her into handing over her gun. “I’m calling Mark.”

      A half hour later Callie sat next to Emma Blanton on the sofa in Ben’s office. Rod and Elaine buzzed around on the other side of the door. Both judges had canceled their morning dockets after complaining for what felt to Callie like a month. Apparently their concession meant shifting cases and otherwise screwing up the entire courthouse calendar. For some reason, both judges viewed a schedule snafu as more important than a threatening note. Or they did until Mark overruled them.

      The scheduling clerks had demanded an explanation. Ben refused to offer one and hung up the phone without delivering his usual dose of charm. Callie could just imagine the e-mails shooting around the building as the courthouse’s female employees tried to figure out what was happening with Judge Cutie Pie behind closed doors.

      Callie didn’t know if that’s what had Ben sitting in a chair with his arms crossed and jaw slammed shut, but something sure had ticked him off. Rather than dwell on Ben’s reaction, Callie studied Emma. The other woman looked normal enough. Not like the fire-breathing defendant hater Callie expected. Emma’s shoulder-length brown hair and bright blue eyes gave her round face a soft glow. At forty she had reached the age where people threw around words like “handsome” instead of pretty, but Judge Blanton definitely qualified as pretty. No wrinkles, and with an open warmness that only added to her attractiveness.

      Callie tried very hard not to hate her.

      If Ben had shown any heated interest in Emma, Callie knew she would have wrestled the other woman to the ground. Felony charges be damned. But nothing in their body language or conversation explained what the two of them meant to each other. Ben sat across from his supposed girlfriend and hadn’t said a word in more than ten minutes. Neither did Emma’s bodyguard, Keith, who stood with his back to the door and his hands folded in front of him. From the way he frowned at Emma, Callie assumed the guy didn’t like his assignment all that much.

      Mark ran the meeting. Sitting in the open chair next to Ben and across from the couch, Mark went over a new set of courthouse security procedures. “Sheriff Danbury is up to speed on the threats. He’s personally checking the security tapes to see who slid the envelope under the door. He’s also running through the morning’s recordings to see if anything unusual happened at the metal detectors downstairs.”

      “He’s not going to find anything.” Callie knew that as sure as she knew the size of her pants. The real size, not the one she told people.

      “Probably, but it’s worth a try. In the meantime, we need to deal with something else.” Then Mark dropped the biggest bombshell. “Judge Samson wants you both to take a vacation.”

      “I’m not going anywhere,” Ben said, finally speaking up but not sounding one ounce happier at being there.

      “I agree.” Emma ran her fingers through her short hair. “We have work to do. Sitting at home worrying isn’t going to help you catch the person any faster.”

      “But it could keep you alive,” Mark said.

      Emma kept her focus on the bookshelves lining the wall perpendicular to her instead of looking at either of the Walker men. “I refuse to let this piece of garbage run my life.”

      Ben stood up. “Are we done here?”

      Again with the stubborn act. Callie had just about had enough. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

      Ben turned to face her. The slow-motion move carried a menacing quality. “When did I give you permission to talk to me like that?”

      The fury in his voice hit her like a slap. She expected frustration about the situation, but this was different. The stupid man was actually angry with her. That realization fueled all the anxiety brewing in her gut. “Probably about the same time I agreed that I needed your okay to do anything.”

      “Stop.” Mark stood up and held his hands out as if he were refereeing a fight. “Let’s all calm down.”

      “Just find the guy.” Ben walked over to his desk. “In the meantime, I’m going back to work.”

      Callie wanted to kick him, but she stuck with the facts instead. “Your morning caseload was canceled.”

      “I’ve still got plenty of paperwork to do.”

      “Right.” Mark pointed to the door. “Callie, Keith, let me see you two outside.”

      Ben waited until they hit the door to fire off one last verbal attack. “Aren’t you afraid someone will attack me while you’re gone for three seconds?”

      Mark pursed his lips together as if he were considering the possibility. “Unless Emma plans on stabbing you, I’m thinking you’ll be fine.”

      “I’m betting she’ll be tempted,” Callie said, making sure Ben could hear her on the other side of the room.

      Emma smiled. “I promise Ben will be alive when you come back.”

      Callie didn’t doubt that. It was the leaving them alone part that had her back teeth snapping together.

      As soon as the door closed behind Mark, Ben tried to concentrate on the blank piece of paper in front of him. For the first time in forty-eight hours he could move around his chambers without tripping over Callie. He didn’t have to worry about her snide comments or her tendency to put her feet up on his desk.

      The moment of quiet should have felt great, but nothing fit together right. He had wanted her to side with him about the note. When she put the job in front of him, his stomach burned. He knew his anger didn’t make any sense. She didn’t owe him anything. Still, he had counted on her loyalty, and when she failed to give it the need to lash out at her flashed through his mind.

      But now he had a different female problem on his hands. One a bit more refined but equally formidable. “What?” he asked Emma.

      “They’re trying to help, you know.”

      He could feel his friend’s gaze boring into his forehead. After a silent minute of her staring and him ignoring, he looked up. “The situation is suffocating.”

      “You’d do the same thing for Mark if the roles were reversed.”

      The calm comment tamped down the fire racing

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