The Prosecutor

by Nichole Severn

  Then the smoke cleared.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hell, he’d never hurt like this. Inside, outside and everything in between, but it was nothing compared to the relief making its way through him. Jonah tried to wipe the dried blood off his hands, but ended up only making the mess worse. He tossed the damp rag one of the EMTs had given him into the back of the ambulance and stared out over the scene.

  Portland police had already created a two-row perimeter within the storage facility’s gates. The owner had been reached and brought down to assess which units belonged to which tenants. With as much damage as the property had suffered because of a federal investigation, tenants would most likely be reimbursed for the whole thing. Special Agent Collin Jackson was already searching the recently extinguished remains of Pierce Cook’s storage unit for evidence while firefighters checked the rest of the area for hot spots. The unknown bomb tech hadn’t been involved in the plot on Madison’s life after all, but Jonah wouldn’t ignore the suspicion still nagging him at the back of his mind. Not a single teammate in his former unit back at Quantico had heard of the agent. Could be Agent Jackson was too new to the field, could be something else. Right now, Jonah had more important priorities on his mind. His deputy chief gave orders from under a temporary command tent with Dylan Cove at her side, both Marshals Reed and Foster ready for their next move.

  Morning broke over the horizon to the east, casting warm golden light across the pavement, and for the first time in four days, he was able to breathe. It was over. Madison and the baby were safe, and the SOB behind the latest bombings would soon be under six feet of dirt. What that meant for him and the mother of his unborn child, Jonah didn’t know. He’d almost lost her for good this time, but he’d managed to stay under complete control when faced with the device strapped to her chest. A straight-up miracle if he’d ever seen one.

  His entire life he’d wanted nothing more than to have what his parents had given him inside their small family. Love, devotion, support. He’d had that with Noah for the short weeks after his son had been born. He’d been happy rocking his newborn to sleep for hours and still couldn’t get enough when he’d set Noah in his crib. He’d been whole. Up until his mother had called with the news his child had passed away in his sleep, and in a few short months, he’d be faced with that possibility again. Only this time, there was a chance he wouldn’t have to shoulder it alone.

  Madison smoothed her hands over her growing belly as she gave her statement to one of the uniformed officers off to his right. Long dark hair constructed a waterfall down her back, concealing her face as she laid out the details of what’d happened between her and the district attorney. She and Jonah had managed to escape the blast with nothing more than aches, a few scratches and bruises. He’d been seconds away from moving on to the next row of units when he’d heard the soft pounding behind one of the rolltop doors, and his instincts had told him everything he’d needed to know. He’d found her. Despite the fact she’d been zip-tied to a chair and strapped with a homemade bomb vest, right then Jonah had never seen a more perfect vision highlighted by the spotlights PPB set up around the scene.

  His future.

  “You’ve still got a bit of ash on your face.” Remington Barton settled against the bumper of the ambulance and stared out over the scene. Sunlight hit light blue eyes just right, nearly making them colorless. Long sleeves brushed against the backs of her hands as she gripped the vehicle’s frame, and Jonah caught a hint of a tattoo against her wrist. He’d never known Remi to wear short sleeves. Never known her to talk about her past. Seemed he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets from the team. “Sounds like Madison Gray is still in the running for district attorney with Pierce Cook gone. After everything that’s gone down over the past few days and having a front-row seat to how far she’ll go to prosecute Rosalind Eyler, she’s certainly got my vote.”

  Jonah couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in question. “Mine, too.”

  “Special Agent Jackson was able to pull a fingerprint from the courthouse bomb after the crime scene techs collected all the evidence. It belonged to Pierce Cook.” Remi crossed one ankle over the other. “He used his security clearance to plant the device about a month before the construction was complete. Makes sense, since he and the judge would’ve been the only two to know which courtroom they’d be prosecuting the Rip City Bomber case in, but we had the bomb squad tear through nearly every inch in the building to make sure. No other devices were recovered.”

  “He’d been planning on this for a while,” Jonah said. “Probably since the day the governor forced Cook to step down from his position and hand the case off to Madison.”

  “Guess we’ll never know. Rosalind Eyler made sure of that.” Remi pushed off from the ambulance and stepped up beside him. Gesturing with her chin toward the patrol car at the end of the row, she watched officers load the Rip City Bomber into the back of the vehicle. “They’ll add another nine counts of murder, conspiracy and attempted murder to her charges, but I don’t think she regrets any of it.”

  Compelling green eyes locked on him from across the parking lot as Rosalind Eyler paused. A hint of a smile curved at her mouth. Whatever kind of deal she’d made with Pierce Cook wouldn’t hold up in the coming months of trial. She’d have to appeal to Madison, and a knot of uncertainty slithered in his gut.

  “She’s where she belongs. That’s all that matters.” He watched the patrol car roll past the storage facility gate and turn down the road out of sight. “Madison confirmed Rosalind used Harvey Braddock as a messenger between her and Pierce Cook until the defense attorney learned they planned to kill her. Can we tie his death to either of them?”

  A heavy sigh escaped from Remi’s mouth. Out of exhaustion or defeat, he wasn’t sure. He’d never seen his deputy chief so...burdened. “The thermite burned any kind of DNA evidence left behind. The medical examiner only had so much to work with, but cause of death was narrowed down to blunt-force trauma to the back of the head with a crowbar recovered at the scene. The fire made it impossible to match fingerprints to Cook. The ME will release the body so the family can claim him, but we can’t charge a dead man with murder, and we can’t prove Rosalind Eyler was involved. All we have her on is conspiracy.”

  “She’s not talking.” Jonah shook his head. The woman was going to spend the rest of her life behind bars for what they could prove against her. Why stop talking now?

  “Not to us, but she seems to like you.” Remi patted him on the shoulder, and he flinched against the pain from the shrapnel wound. “Sorry. Forgot you’ve already survived another bombing before today. Good work on this case, Watson. You saved a lot of people’s lives. Can’t imagine why the FBI let you get away.”

  “I left because of my son.” Stillness swam through him as the past he’d been trying to hide surfaced. He waited for the shame, the anger, to rise, but facing the possibility of losing Madison and this new baby to forces outside his control had only hammered the truth deeper. Now there was only acceptance. Peace. Love. “I had a son before I quit the FBI. Noah. He would’ve been four now if he hadn’t died.”

  Remi didn’t answer, the weight of her attention fixed.

  “There hadn’t been anything I could do to save him then. He passed away in his sleep while I was assigned overseas. I wasn’t there for him, and I’ve had to deal with that guilt day in and day out ever since.” Jonah shifted his gaze to his superior, and the emotional dam he’d built to protect himself from letting that same fear spread crumbled. “Madison’s due in a few months, and I have no idea how to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “You can’t,” Remi said. She stared up at him as the sun climbed higher in the sky, blocking the brightness from her eyes with one hand. “You said it yourself. There was nothing you could do to save Noah, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t every bit the father he needed you to be. Maybe all you can do is be here for this baby
and be here for Madison. They’re the ones who need you now. Make every second count while you still have time.”

  A heaviness lifted from his chest as his deputy chief rejoined the officers going through what was left of evidence from the storage unit. Marshal Dylan Cove turned toward her as she approached, tracing his hand down her wrist, out of sight from the other officers around them, and Jonah smiled. Remi was right. Why worry about the past repeating itself when the present had so much more to offer? He’d always remember his first son. He’d always have those short few weeks between them. Because, if he was being honest, it’d been better than not having any time together at all. Jonah focused on the deputy district attorney who’d claimed his heart and stalked toward her.

  The officer she’d been giving her statement to peeled off in another direction as Jonah slid one arm along Madison’s lower back and spun her into him. The sling the EMTs had fit around her injured shoulder and wrist scraped along his clothing as she stared up at him, that perfect mouth parting in surprise. Her gaze assessed the personnel around them as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face, but he didn’t care about who was watching. “Jonah—”

  “I love you, Maddi. You’re everything I’ve been missing in my life. You’re the reason I keep taking escort details and lying about how good I am at crossword puzzles. You’re on my mind when I wake up and the last person I think about when I go to sleep at night. You’re the strongest, most independent woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I was an idiot to ask you to give up an entire piece of yourself for my own fear of losing you and the baby. I don’t want to change you, and I don’t need a commitment from you.” Jonah lowered himself down onto one knee, her hand in both of his. “If you want to run for district attorney, I’ll be the first one to cast my vote. If you want to support this baby on your own, I won’t push your boundaries. I promise never to ask you to marry me or demand to be part of this baby’s life. Because the choice is yours, Counselor. Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take it, and I’ll always be there for you.”

  Silence surrounded them, and Jonah realized the entire scene had come to a complete halt. Reed, Foster, Remington and Cove waited for her response, but Jonah could focus only on her.

  A smile brightened Madison’s face before she fell into his arms. She crushed her mouth to his, rocking him off balance, and wrapped her uninjured hand around the back of his neck. “Deal.”

  Three months later

  JURY BENCHES HAD the potential to hide a lot of things, but Multnomah County District Attorney Madison Gray had attention only for the inmate on the other side of the courtroom.

  Rosalind Eyler—the Rip City Bomber—had made it in once piece to the last day of her trial. Long bright red hair accentuated the lack of color in the woman’s face, highlighted the shadows under her eyes. Her deal with Madison’s predecessor had fallen through. There’d been no talks of another. Rosalind would spend the rest of her life behind bars without chance of parole. She hadn’t personally triggered the bomb in the courtroom three months ago, but being charged as an accessory to Pierce Cook’s crimes had brought the grand total of bombing murder counts to forty-one victims. All to be served consecutively. Her new defense attorney, a young woman from Harvey Braddock’s firm, hadn’t even had a chance.

  “The jury finds the defendant, Rosalind Eyler, guilty. Bailiff, please take the defendant into custody so she can make the transport back to Corrections and serve out her days where she belongs. This case is concluded.” The judge slammed the gavel on the base and rose. His dark robe shifted around his feet as he stepped down from his seat and disappeared into the corridor leading to his chambers.

  Madison struggled to her feet as murmurs filled the courtroom. Turning to face the gallery, she noted family members of the victims clasping hands, shedding tears and embracing, and the heaviness she’d been burdened with since taking on this case lifted. Forty-one victims, more injured or disabled from the cruel acts of two killers. They would have justice now.

  It was over.

  The Rip City Bomber wouldn’t have the chance to hurt anyone else.

  Through the bustling of media and civilians as the courtroom cleared, one face stood out among the rest. A smile automatically curled Madison’s mouth wide as the deputy US marshal she’d fallen in love with made his way through the sea of bodies.

  “Congratulations, Counselor. You’ve just prosecuted the biggest criminal case in the state of Oregon.” His deep voice penetrated through the buzz around them and filled her with warmth from head to toe. Bright blue eyes leveled with hers as he reached over the bar separating the gallery from the front of the courtroom and smoothed both hands over her nine-month-sized beach ball of a stomach. “Job’s done.”

  “Marshal Watson, I thought I might find you here. How was the gravesite? Did you take the flowers I bought?” she asked.

  “It was good.” His shoulders deflated on a strong exhale. “I talked to him for a while, told him all about you and the little brother that will be here soon.”

  “Noah would’ve been a great big brother.” Their son would make his grand entrance into the world any day now, but until then Madison would soak up every moment she could get with the man who’d kept his promise these past three months. No commitment. No custody and visitation agreement. Nothing to complicate or dissolve the connection they’d built since that day at the storage facility. She reached into her bag and pulled a folded piece of paper from the depths. Handing it to him, she memorized the way his eyebrows lifted slightly along his forehead. “I have something for you.”

  Pulling his hands back from her hips, he unfolded the piece of paper with a deep laugh rumbling through his chest. That gut-wrenching smile she couldn’t get enough of outshone the jury’s verdict against the Rip City Bomber. Almost. “A new crossword.”

  “When you got down on one knee, you said you were pretending you weren’t good at them. I’d like to see you crack this one.” She tapped the paper before she turned to collect her files from the table. A tightening in her belly washed through her, forcing her to hold her breath. Braxton-Hicks contractions. She’d gotten a few throughout the past couple of days, but that had definitely been the strongest of the set. “The reporters are champing at the bit downstairs. Care to escort me to the lobby?”

  Jonah swung the gate open for her, the crossword in hand. The sooner he found the answers for every box, the sooner she’d have hers. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Side by side, they exited the newly refurbished courtroom. Memories ignited of the terrifying moments he’d carried her down this exact hallway after the bombing, but even then she’d known Jonah would do whatever it took to protect her and their son. He intertwined his hand with hers, but another contraction forced her to pull up short. Concern deepened the three lines between his eyebrows as she strengthened her grip around his hand. “Another Braxton-Hicks contraction?”

  A flood of sensation pooled low between her legs as the contraction let up. That one had definitely been stronger than the one she’d experienced during court proceedings, and the interval had sped up. She pressed one hand into her left side and felt their son’s movement underneath the thick lining of fat and muscle. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Maddi?” Jonah took position in front of her, framing the baby between both calloused hands. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m fairly certain my water broke.” She took a step forward and cringed against the trickling sensation running down the inside of her legs. “No, I’m definitely sure my water broke. Can you get me to my office, please? I have a change of clothes stashed in my overnight bag.”

  “We need to get you to the hospital.” A combination of urgency and excitement transformed his expression as he took her bag from her shoulder and clasped both of her hands in his. “The baby’s coming.”

  “No. Office first. I need to go to my office.” She�
�d hold this baby in as long as it took. Although the next wave of tightening was already building. “This isn’t the movies. Real life says I have at least a couple of hours before this baby shoots out of there.”

  “And you plan to have that happen in your office?” Clerks, attorneys and security personnel watched them as Jonah helped her shuffle toward the elevator.

  “I’m not giving birth in my office, Jonah.” She clamped her jaw against the oncoming squeeze from the top of her lungs to the bottom of her torso. Okay. They weren’t going to make it to her office. She detoured to the nearest wall and slammed her hand down for something more solid to hold on to. “There’s something I have to do first, but I’m pretty sure this watermelon isn’t going to let me. Give...me my bag.”

  He did as she asked, confusion chasing back the excitement that’d been etched into his expression moments before. “What do you need?”

  “A pen.” An uncontrolled growl ripped up her throat as the third contraction in as many minutes constricted her midsection. “Or a pencil. That will work, too.”

  He dumped the contents of her bag onto the newly waxed tile and skimmed through everything inside until he’d found her a pen. “You’re stopping in the middle of the courthouse corridor while you’re in labor. This better be the best-damn-looking pen I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “It’s not for me.” She had a break between contractions, and a flood of relief wrung the pain from her overtaxed muscles. “It’s for you. You need to solve the crossword. Right now.” A concerned security guard headed toward them, but Madison waved them off. “We’re fine. I’m in labor. Not a big deal.”

  “You want me to solve the crossword now? Right this second?” Disbelief hiked his voice into the next octave. “You haven’t even gotten to the hospital for the good drugs, and you’re already hallucinating.”