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Melissa glanced up at him with a slow dragging appraisal, and she was ashamed to have felt turned on by his deep magnetic voice.

“We do not represent your family. We represent you. Period. This evidence was given to us. Someone wanted us to know it existed. What that tells me is A. someone wants you out of jail bad enough to give up your brother, including your brother. And B., whether you like it or not, this information can just as easily be handed over to the prosecutor, and they may have a picture of DeAngelo, then we won’t need your confirmation. It’s only a matter of time before those guys get wind that we have evidence that will turn this whole case around. It can be now, or it can be later. What you must decide is how much longer you’re willing to sit in here for something you didn’t do. We can have you released, but it’s up to you.”

Melissa sighed. “You think my brother would hand over a recording that implicates him in making that bomb?”

Jordan and Phoebe exchanged glances. “We have our reasons to believe he would,” Jordan said.

Melissa sighed again. “Does DeAngelo know?”

“If he does, it’s not because we informed him,” Jordan said.

“Well, will you?”

“Melissa,” Phoebe interjected, “I understand because he’s family, you want to give him the best possible chance, but understand, your brother was involved with a known terrorist group. He helped craft a bomb in the basement of a home with your name on it. If he cared as much about you as you do about him, neither he nor your father would’ve done that. But their mission was more important. It killed innocent people, and as bad as you would like to, you can’t help your brother, and neither can we.”

“Yes, you can, all you have to do is warn him!” Melissa shouted.

“But we won’t,” Jordan stated matter of fact. “He’s a terrorist, and we don’t defend those against our country.”

“Then why did you take my case? You had no way of knowing I was innocent except for my word!”

Jordan and Phoebe exchanged glances again. “That’s why we think it was your brother who provided the evidence. When he hired us, he assured us he had proof you were innocent, but he never said what it was. For all we know, he had a messenger drop that recording off, and he’s on the next plane out of the country.”

Melissa stared off into space with astonishment, not wanting to believe it, but knowing it was true. Her head fell into her hands, and Phoebe glanced at her wristwatch.

“Time’s ticking, Melissa,” Phoebe said. “If you want to get out before New Year’s Eve, you’ve got to speak now so we can get the ball rolling. Do you have a picture or not?”

Melissa sucked her lips in and let out a heavy breath. She was supposed to be excited that she even had an opportunity to get out, but instead she felt a major migraine coming on.

“Yes,” she said reluctantly, “get me out.”

The Next Day

When Phoebe and Jordan left the prosecutor’s office, they looked at each other and smiled triumphantly. With the evidence in their possession, the district attorney had no choice but to the drop the charges on their client. The smug look on D.A. Phil Grayson’s face was as comical as the way their eyes had all popped when the recording was revealed. Now Phoebe and Jordan had made sure Melissa Weatherby would be released before New Year’s Eve, which was a day away.

“Good job,” Jordan said, tossing an arm around Phoebe to pull her in for a hug.

Phoebe smiled. “You as well, big brother,” she said as they sauntered out of the station.

As they took the steps one at a time, a voice behind them called, “Hey, Rose.”

Both Jordan and Phoebe glanced back with pause.

“I can’t imagine how you must feel with your boy dating your sister,” Phil Grayson said. “The way he tongued her down last night for the world to see at the game.” Phil whistled. “Must have you and your brothers up in arms. I know if one of my buddies ever tried to get with my sister, especially a notorious playboy like Quentin, I’d most likely kill ‘em.”

Phil held that same smug smile he’d had inside the office moments ago. Phoebe’s eyes narrowed, and she went to speak when Jordan stopped her. Phoebe glanced at Jordan and watched as he cut his eyes back to Phil with a slow, methodic clap of his hands.

“Bravo, Phil. I mean really, that little speech you did there, congratulations. You assume you’ve insulted me, but let me enlighten you on something that you seem to have mistaken. My friend Quentin Davidson, whom I trust, has more honor and dignity than you would ever have in your meager little pathetic life. He may not have the best reputation when it comes to women. But unlike you, or any of your Neanderthal friends, I can say without a doubt that he will respect my sister, protect her, and love her with the type of passion you may live the rest of your days without ever experiencing.

“See, it’s always funny to me when suckas like you lose ‘cause when you do, you cry so hard on the inside that it’s vital to seek someone out to try and destroy. But please understand, the only thing you’ve done here is make a fool of yourself. Rose and Garnett LLC will still take the win.

“And my sister and my brother from another mother will go on about their lovely day. They probably have plans to bring in the New Year in the Bahamas. I may try to tag along with my pretty young ting,” Jordan said, changing his accent at the end to a Jamaican one. “I hope you don’t bring in the new year in that stale ass room at the Old Country Inn that you call an apartment. You should’ve gone to school to be a lawyer, Phil; then you could afford a condo.”

Jordan faced Phoebe. “Let’s go bring in the New Year, sis.” Jordan tossed an arm across Phoebe’s shoulder, and they cruised down the steps. With a grin on his lips and surprise still on Phoebe’s face, they strolled to Jordan’s Porsche Panamera and climbed inside.

Once they were away from prying ears, Phoebe asked, “You really mean what you said back there?”

Jordan glanced at her before cranking up the car. “Yeah,” he said.

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