Page 32 of Lone Star Country Protector
Still. He’d called her one of his prize students, had invited her along with a few male colleagues to his home for dinners a handful of times since graduation and had been a big cheerleader for her career since she’d left college.
“I brought flowers for you,” he said. “But I guess these are for someone else now.”
“The nurse can take them,” she offered, not wanting to offend her former professor. He still had pull in certain circles, and she’d worked for and deserved a clean reputation. She was still too early in her career to make enemies, and the man had never been inappropriate with her.
“I’ll make sure they get to the right place,” Blakely offered. “It’s not necessary for you to stick around.”
“All right,” he said. Right before ending the call, he delivered his favorite line. “See you in court.”
Blakely ended the call with an awkward thank-you.
“Everything all right at the hospital?” Dalton asked, breaking through the thoughts rolling around in her head.
“Yes,” she said, refocusing on him. Her stomach gave a little flip the moment their gazes touched. “My law professor showed up with flowers.”
Dalton’s face twisted. “You two must be close.”
“Not really,” she said. “He sometimes brings students to observe a trial for extra credit and has introduced me to some of his contacts, but I don’t know him beyond a professional level.”
“Bringing flowers sounds kind of personal if you ask me,” he said.
“He listens to scanners like an ambulance chaser to illustrate how they can be used to find clients,” she said.
“Does he find clients that way?”
“He’s a professor, so it’s an academic exercise to him,” she explained.
A clank in the hallway caused them both to freeze.
Dalton moved, breaking through the temporary hold first.
“Hide underneath your desk,” Dalton said, already to his feet as Blakely reached for the key that unlocked the drawer with her Sig Sauer.
It dawned on her just how poetic it might be for someone like Johnny Spear to kill her in her chambers. It was, after all, this courthouse where his life was changed forever.
Drawer unlocked, fingers curled around the butt of the gun, she’d be ready for whatever walked through that door.
Chapter Twelve
Dalton had his weapon drawn before he exited Blakely’s chambers. He slipped out to the small reception area and flattened his back against the wall. Slowly, purposefully, he made his way toward the door leading to the hallway.
Stopping next to the door, he listened. A list of folks who might be at the courthouse late on a Sunday ran through his mind. Maintenance. Custodial. Another judge. Security guard.
Yes, it dawned on him that word could have spread about the judge’s attack. Law enforcement circles ran small, sometimes shockingly small. It was another reason a relationship wouldn’t be a good idea, especially now that he’d been assigned to protect her.
Approaching thirty had him questioning how much he loved his job despite what he’d said to her at the hospital. A growing piece of him missed working the paint horse ranch alongside his family members. He was realizing how lonely it could be moving to a new city where he worked much of the time. He volunteered for extra duty in order to fill his days.
Now, he was starting to wonder why. He’d had an independent streak a mile long growing up. Was he getting softer as he got older?
The clank of keys on a key ring sounded on the opposite side of the door. Could be custodial. Or security.
His truck was registered to him personally. It had been the vehicle he’d been driving when the protection assignment had come in. Security might red-flag his truck if they’d driven by.
The business end of his gun aimed at the door, he held steady as he waited to see if the door handle moved or a key slid into the lock. There would be a second or two for him to identify himself as a marshal before a decision to shoot might have to be made. Dalton had been forced into a position of discharging his weapon on multiple occasions. He never took it lightly that one of his bullets could end a life. Criminal or not, everyone’s right to live was respected by Dalton.
Several seconds passed without another sound on the other side of the door. It felt almost like a standoff. But did the person out there even suspect that someone could be on the other side of this door?
His logical side kicked in, reminding him there were a whole lot of reasons someone might stop. The first of which was to read and respond to a text. There were other reasons. Like the person could be cleaning.
