A shot cracked.
The bailiff slumped against the desk, then slid to the floor. A dark patch stained his brown shirt.
Andrea gasped. She scrambled to her knees. She had to reach the bailiff. She had to help him.
The judge straightened, pointing the gun at Andrea and John.
They both froze.
On the other side of the room, Kit clambered to her feet and raced to the bailiff’s side. Kneeling down, she ripped open his shirt and held the fabric against his wound.
The gun still in his shaking hand, the judge looked from the bailiff to John and Andrea. “Oh God. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—” Tears slid from the corners of his eyes.
“It’s over, judge. Give me the gun.” John reached a hand toward him.
“Not so fast.” He rested his finger on the trigger, the barrel still pointed straight at Andrea. “She’s the murderer. She jumped the bailiff. She shot him and then shot the rest of you. They’ll believe me. I’m a judge. They’ll have to believe me.” He lifted the gun and pointed it squarely at John’s chest.
John’s heart.
“No.” Andrea sprang to her feet. She dove at John, trying to grab his arm, trying to pull him out of the way. Her fingers clawed air.
The judge squeezed the trigger.
John kept moving. Lunging over the desk, he grabbed the judge’s arm. He pulled and twisted, dragging the judge forward, slamming his arm against the desk’s edge.
The gun clattered to the floor.
Andrea scrambled toward it on her hands and knees. Her fingers closed over the hot steel. The sound of John’s fist connecting with the judge’s jaw echoed through the room.
The door to the office burst open. Bailiffs flooded the room. Shouts jangled the air.
“It’s over, Andy. Give me the gun.”
She looked down at the weapon in her shaking hands. It was over. She handed the gun to Detective Mylinski. The report of the gun still rang in her ears. The odor of burned gunpowder hung in the air. Two bailiffs took over restraining the judge.
John spun around, his gaze finding hers. He crossed to where she stood and gathered her into his arms.
His embrace was so warm, so strong. “You really are okay.”
“Of course I am. As long as I’m in your arms.”
“When you charged the judge, I was afraid—” She choked back a flood of tears. She couldn’t say the words. She couldn’t even think of losing John.
“The judge was shaking so badly, he must have missed.” He reached out a hand and brushed a rogue tear from her cheek. His lips curled in a wry smile. “Come on. Would I let you get rid of me that easily?”
She thought of how he’d believed in her, how he’d fought for her, how he wouldn’t let her push him away. “I guess I even need you to remind me how stubborn you are.”
His smile faded. He grasped her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. “I need you, Andrea. Every bit as much as you need me.”
Love infused her, strengthened her, filled her until she thought her heart would burst. “I’ve been so afraid. So afraid.”
“You don’t have to be afraid. It’s all over. The judge is going down for murder. I’ll get the charges against you dropped.”
She struggled to shake her head. He didn’t understand. She had to make him understand. “It’s not just now. I’ve been afraid since I met you. Afraid of needing you. Of loving you. Of being weak like my mother.”
“Oh, Andrea.” He lowered his face to hers. His whisper tickled her ear. “If need and love makes a person weak, I’m the weakest man on the face of the earth. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his hands, the sound of his voice, and the strength pumping in her veins. For the first time in her life, she wouldn’t have it any other way either. Because for the first time in her life, she realized that her need for him, her love for him didn’t undermine her strength.
It was the source.
“I love you, John. I need you. And I know I always will.”
Epilogue
John stopped his car in his driveway. Heart pounding, he jumped out, circled to the passenger door, and pulled it open. He took Andrea’s hand and helped her out.
She smiled up at him. “I could get used to treatment like this.”
“Happy to provide it.” He coaxed a smile to his own lips, trying to distract his thoughts from his jangling nerves. There was nothing he wanted more than to give Andrea the royal treatment she deserved for the rest of her life.
If she would have him.
He slipped a hand into his pocket, touching the velvet of the little jeweler’s box, as if he had to remind himself it was there. He’d thought of nothing but marrying Andrea since she’d admitted to loving him in Judge Banks’s chambers. And although it might be better to give her a chance to settle her life before he asked her, he couldn’t bring himself to wait. He’d almost lost her more times than he cared to remember. And now that she was out of jail and to his surprise was ready, he wasn’t going to waste one more day.
He had only to find the right moment to pop the question.
He guided her over the few patches of ice and snow still on his shoveled driveway, careful she wouldn’t slip. “I’ve made a few changes to the house so you’ll be comfortable staying here.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
He hoped so. He hoped it was so fine she’d want to stay for a long time.
Like the rest of her life.
He helped her up the stairs to the kitchen door. Holding his breath, he slipped in his key, unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Refinished oak floors and green tile countertops inspired by the decor of her northern cabin greeted them. He focused on her face, waiting for her reaction.
Her smile blossomed into a beaming grin. “You redecorated the kitchen for me?”
The warmth of her smile seeped into his soul. “I had the whole house done. I figured it was about time to let some color into my life.” It had cost a pretty penny to get everything done so quickly, but it was worth it to see the look on her face.
“It’s beautiful.”
His throat tightened. “You’re beautiful.”
She looked up at him, her clear blue eyes so warm and sparkling they stole his breath.
He should ask her now. Get down on one knee and let ’er rip. His pulse picked up its pace.
He’d always prided himself on his quick tongue and lawyer’s grasp of the language. But right now it was all he could do to keep his nerves in check enough to string two words together.
“Aren’t you going to show me the rest of the house?”
He forced himself to take a breath. “Sure.” He’d show her the rest of the house. Then he’d ask.
After they’d shucked their coats, he offered her his arm. “This way.”
He led her through the living room, the secondhand couch and his old recliner replaced by new models to go with the mission-style tables and entertainment center. Her oohs and ahs duly noted, he led her through the bedrooms, the bathrooms and the office, each room inspiring more oohs and ahs. Finally he stopped in the same spot the tour began, his question still not asked. And the words still beyond his reach. “Mylinski stopped by to see me yesterday.”
“Mylinski? What did he have to say?”
Remembering Mylinski’s contrition, John chuckled. “That he knew you were innocent all along.”
“Right.”
“Actually he wanted me to give you his apologies.”
She pressed her lips into a small smile and nodded. “He was only doing his job. I know that. But it’s still nice to hear he’s sorry for what he put me through. What else did he say about the case?”
“Putnam has been cleared. Apparently your—” he shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to call Wingate Kirkland her husband. Her marriage wasn’t a detail he wanted to remember. Not when he wanted to ask her to take a chance on marriage all over again. “Ap
parently Kirkland was murdered before he’d had the chance to use the tape against Putnam, and the same goes for the state senators. But there’s no telling who was on the other tape along with Judge Banks or what favors they did for Kirkland. We’ll never know unless Tonnie chooses to talk. She’s been charged with extortion.”
Andrea nodded. “It’s good to know the mess Wingate made is on its way to being cleaned up, and justice will finally be done.”
“And another thing. Mylinski found out why Joyce was lying about what day she returned from Paris.”
“Why?”
“She was being questioned by the FBI about Kirkland’s business. It seems she was involved in some shady dealings of her own, and she was about to sell her brother down the river in exchange for immunity.”
Andrea shook her head slowly. “So much for her loyal-sister act.”
“Appearances don’t count for much.” A lesson he’d learned the hard way.
“What about the blonde who was helping Hank Sutcliffe with the rug? The one Ruthie Banks saw?”
“We’re still investigating but it looks like Ruthie suspected her father was involved and made up that story to protect him.”
“And implicate me.”
“Yes.”
“I’m just glad it’s all over, and we can get on with our lives.” Andrea looked up at him, a smile blossoming on her lips. “The future looks bright.”
John’s gut hitched. This was the opening he was waiting for. He sucked in a breath. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“That’s all I need to hear.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box. Taking a deep breath, he offered it to her. “Open it.”
Her fingers shook. Using her thumb, she flipped the lid open. A diamond ring sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the window. The ring he’d so carefully picked out.
He was afraid to speak, afraid to breathe.
“Oh, John. It’s beautiful.”
He plucked the ring from the box with awkward fingers. Taking her hand in his, he lowered himself to one knee. He looked up at her. So strong. So beautiful. His throat closed. He opened his mouth, but no sound came.
Damn. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to give her a moment to remember. He wanted to give her every reason to say yes. But his mind was a blank. He reached for the only words he could find. “It’s yours. If you’ll take it. If you’ll have me.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes, putting the diamond’s radiance to shame. “As long as we both shall live?”
“Longer.”
The tears broke free and trickled down her cheeks. She knelt beside him. Moving close, she fitted her body into his embrace. “I’d love to wear your ring, John. I’d love to be your wife.”
Joy spun through his mind and settled in his chest. He pulled her close, his lips finding hers, taking, claiming. He didn’t need words. He didn’t need thought. He only needed Andrea in his arms.
For all eternity.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4089-6
INCRIMINATING PASSION
Copyright © 2003 by Ann Voss Peterson
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