Free Close Proximity by Donna Clayton

tell her any of this, you hear me? Besides that, I don’t want her feeling afraid. I’ve spent the last several months in cold, stark fear. It’s been awful, I can tell you that. I want you to stick with her. I want you to protect her.”
    â€œI will,” Rafe promised. “I won’t let anything happen to your daughter, David.”
    Libby’s angelic face appeared in his mind, her fiery tresses, her milky skin, and Rafe felt his insides grow warm.
    David’s sigh was ragged. “Maybe I should just take the fall for this whole mess. Maybe I should just say I did it. At least then Libby would be safe.”
    The fury that rose up in Rafe seemed to come out of nowhere when he heard this suggestion. For years he’d been a victim. For years he’d taken the role of fall guy in order to protect his mother and brother from Curtis James’sdrunken rages. Never again would he be weak. Never again would he be a victim.
    And he wouldn’t allow David Corbett to be a victim, either.
    â€œYou’re not going to do that, David.” The edge honing his tone made the elderly man lift his gaze to Rafe’s. “You’re not going to be held responsible for something you didn’t do. I’m committed to clearing your name. And so is Libby. I don’t want you to worry about her. I’m going to watch out for her. I’m going to keep her safe.”
    Taking a small pad of paper from his breast pocket, Rafe asked, “Now, I need some names. When you found out about the DMBE, who did you talk to? And who might have found out that you suspected there was a problem?”
    As David began to spout off names, Rafe took meticulous notes and asked many questions.

Six
    H e saw her standing outside the door of the police station. Her gaze searched up one side of the street and then down the other. She glanced at her wristwatch. This was the first time he’d spotted her where she wasn’t either surrounded by lawyers and clerks at the courthouse, or shadowed by that damned Indian she’d hired.
    Even though he hadn’t gone near the place, he knew she’d been staying at her daddy’s house. He didn’t want to get caught within a mile of David Corbett’s home. Not now. Not while everything was working out so well. Everything Corbett had worked for was about to be destroyed. And best of all, with plans falling so neatly into place, Corbett would spend a good many years in a cold, stark prison cell.
    A thin fog hazed the afternoon, and the gray sky was beginning to spit rain.
    He’d read in the papers how Libby Corbett had stakedher career on clearing her daddy’s name. She had moxie, he had to give her that. But she’d best be careful. There was a fine line between spunk and nosiness. She just might get herself hurt. Or worst yet, killed.
    Charlie O’Connell had crossed that line. Once.
    Pleasure coursed through him, and amusement curled the corners of his cruel mouth. Without thought, he lifted his hand, swiping his fingers against his lips as if to obliterate any outward sign of humor. The pleasure, he allowed himself to enjoy. It was inside. Safe. Unobservable.
    David Corbett may be stupid and weak, but he sure had sired a beautiful daughter.
    The image of her sleeping was one he’d never forget. He’d been annoyed that he’d had to travel all the way to San Francisco. But the trip had been well worth his effort.
    Her hair had spilled across the pristine white pillowcase, the moonlight streaming through the window turning it to night fire. Her skin had looked like velvet, her lashes fanning against her creamy cheeks. Her long body had been laid out on the bed for his eyes alone. He’d spent long moments in the quiet enjoying the sight of her.
    The curve of her shoulder. The swell of her breasts, the dusky disks of her nipples creating shadows against the soft white satin of her gown. He’d actually salivated and