Page 11 of The Devil's Price

When his lips claim a kiss from mine, I don’t resist him. He’s fire and ice, the devil and my savior, and I’m so lost in the way I feel, I can’t decide which I want more. To be saved or to be possessed by this man every day.

His phone rings somewhere across the room, and I suck in a breath and blow it out. The scent of his cologne mingled with the smell of sex gives a heady feeling.

“I have to go.” Finn pulls out, leaving his sex puddling on the comforter under me. I roll to my side and watch him dress, wishing the lights were on so I could see what I imagine is a perfectly sculpted body.

"You can't stay?" I ask softly.

"Business… but maybe another night." When he's dressed, he comes over and kisses my forehead. "That was incredible."

The low rumble vibrates me. I reach for him. "Stay…" My drunken stupor is lifting, so I'm not sure why I'm still doing this. I'm insane. He's a fucking mobster and I'm the deputy prosecutor.

"Rest. You need to think about this before you say anything else." He's gentle with me, more so than I ever imagined a man like him could be, and then he's gone, and I'm finding myself fading into sleep.

What the actual fuck have I done?

8

FINN

I've been to court a few times before, but never as someone here to observe the proceedings. I was always the guy at the table with a sleazy lawyer paid by my father to get me out of the hot water I got myself into. Today, I'm here to listen and retain information, then use that to get what I want out of the prosecutor. I'm also here to watch the beautiful Ms. Gallagher who hasn't spoken to me since the night I saved her from those bastards on the street.

She sits at her table poring over her files while we wait for the judge. After opening arguments, which both lawyers handled well, the judge granted a short recess, and now we'll begin hearing testimony. I'm tense, wishing this were over and I could get back to my normal job, but Mick has been our ally less than a year, and ensuring he remains free to continue fully integrating his operations to ours is essential.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Callahan." The court official speaks from his position near the door to the judge's chambers, and everyone in this courtroom takes notice. We all stand in a rush of squeaking seats and moaning of wood.

The judge strolls in, his silky black robe billowing in the breeze his movements create. He has a scowl on his face that looks permanently glued there and a very bad combover as evidence to his vain attempt to stay youthful. It's comical, but not anything I haven't seen on most men his age and economical class. He's the center of attention here in this courtroom, and he's proud as a peacock of it.

"You may be seated," he grunts as he lowers himself into his chair. The herd of men and women in this room lower into their places. I'm no exception.

Brennan sits next to me, Isla to her left. Rebecca isn't here today, too emotional to come watch her father be grilled like a slab of meat over something he hasn't done. Mick looks back over his shoulder at us and presses two fingers to his lips and points them at his wife. Brenan is shaking.

I squeeze her hand as Siobhan calls her name. "Your Honor, I'd like to call Mrs. Brennan O'Connor to the stand."

Brennan rises, and I notice Isla rubbing her belly nervously. She glances at me through the gap created as her mother stands, and I move my knees to the side to let Brennan squeeze out the end of the row.

She takes the stand, placing her hand on a closed Bible to be sworn in. The whole courtroom stares at her eagerly, the first witness to the prosecution, subpoenaed against her will in an attempt to force her to tattle on her husband. It's dirty, but it's how this game is played.

Siobhan takes a piece of paper from her briefcase and holds it in her hands, as if it's a script for what she wants to say. Her eyes continue to scan it as she walks around the prosecutor's tableand strolls up to where Brennan has taken her seat in the witness box. The jury of twelve hand-selected men and women fix their eyes on her as she begins her questioning.

"Mrs. O'Connor, thank you for joining us today. I understand this must be challenging for you, but I just have a few questions." I wish I could see the beautiful prosecutor's face to read it, but her back is to me and likely will be for much of the proceedings.

Brennan says nothing. She looks terrified, hugging her purse to her belly, staring at Mick with a blank expression and pale features.

"Mrs. O'Connor, is it true you wrote in your sworn statement that your husband, the defendant, Mick O'Connor, was at the pub with his friends and family the night of the murder, April twentieth?" A stab at Mick's alibi. We knew that was coming.

"Yes, that's true." Brennan was coached to give one-word answers and keep it short. I hope she does the right thing.

"And is it true that you don't actually know where he was?" Siobhan lowers the paper and stares at Brennan, who shrugs.

"Yes, that's true."

"Mrs. O'Connor, what sort of man is your husband?" Siobhan pauses and looks at the jury for a moment before continuing. "Is he angry or abusive? Does he have outbursts of temper?"

"Objection, your honor, irrelevant." Mick's solicitor stands and shakes his head.

"Grounds for cause, your honor. I aim to prove Mick O'Connor is a violent man, and who better to prove that than the person who knows him best?" Siobhan's eyes zero in on the solicitor's face,and she catches a glimpse of me. I watch her swallow hard and turn back to the judge.

"I'll allow it. Please continue." The judge seems relaxed. Maybe it's because he already knows what he'd decide in this matter, but thankfully, it's not up to him. A jury gets to decide Mick's fate. "Mrs. O'Connor, please answer the question.

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