Page 13 of The Devil's Price

"So, what happened then? I got nothing on the recording." He sounds more upset that he doesn’t know what we talked about than whether his precious wire is destroyed, almost like he's jealous of my being alone with O'Rourke and not him.

"You're married, Liam, get a life," I think, but I don't say it. Instead I say, "I'll pay you back when I have some extra cash on hand, but it'll be a while. O'Rourke expected the wire. He just ripped it right off my chest and dropped it in the glass."

"I told you that man was a lunatic. I told you not to go." His serious control issue bothers me enough that I want to hang up, but I know he'll just show up to my place and lay into me. Besides, I know I crossed a line with Finn, fucking him like that. No good DPP with any sense in her head would do that, and I spread my legs like I was serving up a feast. It just felt so damn good.

"He's not a lunatic, but you are right. He's dangerous." I huff out a sigh as I juggle my briefcase and jacket in one hand to find my keys in my pocket with the other, nearly dropping them as I switch my phone from one shoulder to the other. "Listen, I have an in with the O'Rourkes, okay? We're just inches away from busting the crime world wide open. Can't you just celebrate with me for one second?"

The door swings open to darkness, and I reach for the switch to flip on the lights but they don’t come on. Just what I need, a power outage. It seems to have only started, though, since I rode the elevator up here. At least my frozens won't start to thaw.

"Look, my power is off, Liam. I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow." Pressing theEnd Callbutton, I drop my keys, purse, and phone on the stand by the door, then set my jacket and purse on a kitchen chair as I pass through the dining room.

I have some candles and a match in the drawer next to the sink, kept there in case of a bad storm or something like this happening. I saw some construction down the street, which makes me think this might be related. Until I stand in front ofthe microwave, where the bright blue light indicating the late hour glows in the darkness.

I'm instantly aware that I'm not alone in this darkness. I can feel a presence here with me, someone breathing across the room. I stand still, thinking of where my knife block is positioned, behind me on the marble island next to the range top. I could make a move, lunge for it, but I don’t know where they are or who they are. My blood runs cold at the thought of those two men from the street being in here, stalking me, hunting me like a sick game of cat and mouse.

My entire body bristles, hair standing at attention on my arms. Goosebumps rise as I search with my peripheral vision, straining against blackness I know all too well. There is only the light from the microwave here, the only windows in my penthouse on the far side of the building obscured by a half wall that divides the living area from the hallway to my ensuite.

"Who's there?" I say harshly, remembering the open door, left cracked when I realized the lights were out. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear the blood whirring past my eardrums, but above it, I faintly make out a voice.

"It's me, Siobhan, Judge Callahan."

The tension coiling every muscle in my body, preparing me to fight or flee, relaxes and I heave out a sigh. "What the hell are you thinking?" I hiss, but the goosebumps don't go away as instantly as they came. "You scared the feck out of me."

He speaks softly, as if afraid to be here, or no, concealing his identity. He knows how bad this would look for him if someone saw him in my apartment during a trial. We'd look like we werecolluding against Mick O'Rourke, like we were setting him up. It would be grounds for an immediate mistrial, so why is he here?

"I only have a moment, Siobhan, but this is important."

I turn toward the sound of his voice. He's close, but not near enough to touch me. That's a good thing, because while I do recognize his voice, I'm still on the edge of freaking out. How the actual fuck did he get in here?

"What is it? You know you shouldn’t be here. This could cause a mistrial." Now my fear is slowly being replaced by annoyance. He could've just called me into his chambers for this. I don't understand what's with all the secrecy.

"I received a threat and I want to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Have you hired a security team yet?" I scowl, thankful he can't see my face.

"No, I haven't. I'm not afraid of them, Brendan." Leaning on the cool island countertop, I suck in a breath to help flush more of the tension out of my chest. "I have it under control. I'm not losing my nerve. We'll get the bastard."

"Good, good… Well, you should know we've got a little help from the local Garda. The new evidence you've submitted in the ballistics report is verified. And it appears the mud on the carpet they scraped up from the scene of the crime matches the mud from the O'Connor farm. It was him."

I want to plug my ears and make nonsense sounds to block out what I'm hearing. A judge openly declaring the guilt of a man still on trial is a massive ethics violation. I can't hear this. If people found out that a case I'm actively trying is presided over by a judge who has a bias and I knew about it, I'd be destroyed.

"You should leave, Brendan. This shouldn't be happening." My calm, even tone helps me feel grounded though I feel totally out of control now. The shock of someone in my home has me rattled. This building has extra security protocols. I have no clue how he got in, let alone how he got in without anyone seeing him.

"I'll go. I just wanted to make sure you're okay." I feel his hand on mine on the island and I don’t pull away. Brendan is a good man, a kind man. He's been like a father to me for years now, though my father back home isn't dead. Just distant.

"Thank you for checking on me, but you should go. We can't let anyone stop us from putting these bastards behind bars. I don't want to risk this case being thrown out on a technicality." Pulling my hand out from under his, I pat his hand and try to relax my shoulders.

"You're right… Well, then, have a good evening." Judge Callahan starts to move toward the door, and I reach into the drawer behind me to retrieve a slender stick candle and a match. I light it, and before I see which way he went, he's gone.

The door still stands ajar, so I glance both ways down the hallway, then shut and lock it. The glow is enough for me to find my way to my bedroom and search for the power box tucked behind a row of hanging suits in my closet. The breakers have mostly been flipped, but the one for the kitchen is on. I could've flipped the light switch at any time, but I didn’t know it.

With the lights on I feel safer, though I may sleep with them on all night after that. I snuff the candle and set it on my nightstand as I start to strip out of my suit.

The day has worn on me. I feel like pouring a glass of wine but decide against it as I change into a T-shirt and loose shorts to sleep in. I'll want my wits about me if something like that happens again, and drinking isn't the best idea when I'm scared, anyway. It only makes the nightmares worse.

I slip into a night robe and slink out to the kitchen where I heat up some leftover pasta from two nights ago. The microwave whines and hums as it warms my dinner, and I hear the bell ring seconds after the appliance chimes announcing the food is warm.

For a second I glower at the door, thinking it's Liam who's come to berate me about his stupid damaged listening device. But fear still lingers in the air around me, choking out my better judgment. I pull the food from the microwave and stir it with a fork, ignoring the bell. Whoever it is this time of night can't want anything good, but I tiptoe to the door and use the peep hole to peek out.

In the hallway outside my penthouse, Finn O'Rourke stands with a dozen pink roses in hand, looking up the hall with curiosity etched on his face. He wears a dark Polo, dark leather jacket, and dark jeans, a man of the night come to surprise me for what? Romance?

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