Cavanaugh Judgment by Marie Ferrarella Page A

applying the catch-more-flies-with-honey-than-with-vinegar theory? “Flattery, Detective?”
    Her answer was immediate. “Observation, Judge.” She glanced at what he was doing. Briefcase packed, he was apparently ready to go. Striding, he got ahead of her by the time they reached the door.
    “My car’s parked downstairs,” he told her, leading the way out. Devoid of people, the courtroom was as quiet as a tomb. Alert, she scanned the area as she took the lead, not letting him walk until she walked there first.
    “We’ll take mine,” she informed him. There was no room for argument.
    He did anyway. “I’m partial to my car.” Reaching the elevators, he pressed the down button.
    “And I’m partial to you breathing,” she replied mildly.
    The wording surprised him. “Really?”
    “Okay,” she admitted, “the chief is. And what the chief wants, the chief gets.”
    She was overreacting, he thought. He refused to be intimated by a cheap hood.
    “And you really think that if I use my car, I won’t be ‘breathing’ for much longer?” He didn’t bother removing the note of mockery in his voice. “Just how much credit are you giving this two-bit criminal?”
    The elevator arrived. She held her hand up, stopping the judge until she checked out the interior. There were two other people in the car, both wearing ID badges that connected them to Human Resources.
    She motioned him forward with the barrel of her weapon. “The kind of credit that goes along with having a bogus paramedic team arrive on the scene well ahead of the real one. The kind of credit someone who could pull this all off should be awarded. Anything else?” she wanted to know.
    “Yes. Are you always this annoying?”
    The question caught her off guard, although she didn’t show it.
    “No,” Greer finally replied. “If you believe my brothers, sometimes I’m worse.” The doors opened on the first floor. She waited for the two people to disembark, then motioned for the judge to follow her. “Let’s go, Your Honor.”
    Rather than follow, he fell into step beside her even as he resigned himself to the inevitable. “I have no choice, I guess.”
    “Nope.”
    They made their way to the front doors. There were several police officers, all of whom she was familiar with, processing people out one by one. Recognizing them, one of the officers waved her and the judge by.
    Greer stopped just before the doors and her eyes met Kincannon’s. “Neither one of us do.”
    And, she had a strong feeling as they exited, neither one of them was very happy about this state of affairs, either.

    Chapter 5
    “S o how is this going to work?” the judge asked her once they were in her car and she was pulling out of the parking structure. “Do I check with you before I take a breath?”
    Greer kept her eyes on the road as she exited onto the street. She supposed she could understand his sarcasm. In Kincannon’s place, she’d probably feel the same way.
    No, she corrected herself, not probably, she would definitely feel the same way. She’d never liked restrictions and living with a bodyguard was the very definition of being restricted. But then, he’d chosen this career. No one had forced it on him.
    “No,” she replied mildly, acting as if he’d just asked her a legitimate question, “how many breaths you take or don’t take is entirely up to you.”
    She heard him sigh. A glance in his direction told her he was staring out the windshield and frowning.
    “You know this is completely unnecessary, don’t you?” he said.
    Anyone who could orchestrate a successful escape from a courtroom was a man to be reckoned with—and not underestimated. If Munro wanted to enact his revenge against the judge, then the judge needed serious protection.
    “Sorry, Your Honor,” she answered, “but I don’t know anything of the kind.”
    “I know how to defend myself, Detective O’Brien,” he informed her, his impatience barely contained.
    She pretended she