Page 17 of The Devil's Price

"I was, and I have several family members as witnesses to prove it." He is a loathsome soul, deserving of the pits of hell, and my jury is about to hear why. They lean forward on their chairs waiting as I walk to the judge and hand him a letter sworn to me by my very reluctant witness.

"Your Honor, I'd like to submit into evidence this letter, notarized and sworn by a witness who'd like to remain silent for now." A witness who Liam found for me, though I did speak to her myself. "And a videotape will follow shortly." I turn to Mick and smirk at him as I walk back to stand in front of him. He looks pale now, the color draining from his skin.

"Let me ask you again, Mr. O'Connor, were you at The Pub on the night in question?" I stare him down, ready to pounce as he says nothing. There's nothing he can say, so I continue before he tries lying his way out of this. "Do you know a woman by the name of Miriam Flaherty?"

"I do not," he chokes out, but his posture is wilting.

"You probably know her better as the name 'Candy Star,' a hooker from the red-light district. Do you know Ms. Candy Star, Mr. O'Connor?"

"Objection, Your Honor, she states facts not in evidence." The objection from Quinn is weak. I will have a videotape produced by Ms. Star in less than two hours on my desk and he'll have no grounds for defense then.

"Overruled, Mr. Quinn. Mr. O'Connor, you'll answer the question." Judge Callahan narrows his eyes as if waiting for Mick to answer, curiosity, intrigue in his gaze.

"I've met Ms. Star once." Gasps erupt in the courtroom, but I hold my gaze on the defendant. I don't want to miss this at all.

"Is it true that on the night of April twentieth you were at Ms. Star's apartment having sex with her, and that she produced a pornographic video tape of this event?" More gasps erupt, and I hear sobbing, presumably Mick's wife or daughter. I can imagine how it's hurting her, but her husband is a murderer. There are bound to be more harsh truths come out about him.

Mick rubs his forehead, then massages the bridge of his nose a few seconds before letting his shoulders completely droop. "Brennan, you have to understand… Please…" He reaches toward the back of the courtroom as I hear people rushing about. I turn to see Mick's wife rushing out of the room sobbing and then hear the gavel banging on the sounding block. I've hit my mark.

"Answer the question, Mr. O'Connor," I repeat as I walk back to my table.

"Yeah, okay? I fucked her!" Mick is standing now, and Judge Callahan is banging mercilessly on the gavel.

"Order in this court!" he shouts and glares at the people who are jabbering like gossiping schoolgirls.

"Your Honor, I request a recess," Quinn demands. "We have to check out the new alibi." I sit happily behind my table knowing the gold I've dug up. Ms. Star's apartment is less than two blocks from the defendant's home. It gives him plenty of time to have screwed the whore, been to the scene to murder the man, andback home before anyone was the wiser. And I couldn’t have done it without Liam.

The judge, happy to grant the request for recess, clears the courtroom for the day. I gather my things and look around for Finn, but he's not here today. It's all well and good because being around him makes me feel and think things I shouldn't. Being in his arms again last week made it very clear to me that I've crossed yet another line. I'm catching feelings for him and it's dangerous territory. Maybe he realizes it too, and that's why he's not here.

With my things in hand, I walk out the front of the courthouse, set to hail a cab. I check the time on my phone. It's early today. Maybe Finn will be free for dinner and we can do something besides have sex for once. Or maybe I'll dine alone and turn in to some reruns of my favorite old-time cop shows.

It's a nice day, though I'm feeling a bit more tired than normal. I wait on the sidewalk, watching Quinn and a few of the deceased's family leave in their cars, when I hear squealing tires and my head jerks around. There is a car speeding up the road at racing speeds, swerving erratically and jerking back and forth.

My natural instinct is to back away from the curb where I wait, but when shots ring out, there's no time. I fall to my knees and cover my ears, dropping everything and skinning my knees. So many shots ring out as I plaster myself to the cement and curl into a ball. People are screaming and running. I hear a few of the bullets hit their mark in the sides of parked cars, or ricocheting off the courthouse steps, but I stay there in a trembling ball.

When the shooting is over, strong hands jerk me upward and arms wrap around me. I have my eyes clamped shut, unintelligible noises coming out of my mouth, and all I can thinkis thank God Finn is here. But it doesn't smell like him, and it doesn't feel like his arms.

Prying my eyes open, I hear, "Shh, it's okay." My vision is a bit blurry from adrenaline, but I see Liam hovering over me, guiding me like he's herding a sheep to his car. "Get in… We need to get you out of here." He opens the door to his cruiser and pushes me in, then collects my things from the sidewalk.

I press a hand to the glass, feeling tears welling up and flowing freely. What the hell just happened? And where was Finn when I needed him?

12

FINN

Ronan and I flip through the images I took of Siobhan's court files when she was sleeping. I can't say I feel guilty for snooping in her briefcase while she slept the other night because I don't. This is war and my friend is on trial for a murder case that could put him away for life. I need to know what the prosecution has against him, and looking through her things was the only way. She was never going to give it up freely.

"It looks like they have a witness set to testify that she saw Mick kill Aiden in cold blood," Ronan says, eyes squinting at the small print on the computer screen. I did the best I could with the limited time, but based on what I make of the blurry image, I think he's right.

"Sarah Duncan…" I say the name absently and scrub both hands over my face. I trust Mick implicitly when he says he did not kill Aiden. As a member of our family both by word and by blood now—bound in marriage by his daughter to my brother—Mick would never double-cross us. Aiden was Ronan's right-hand man.

"Yes, well we need to find Ms. Duncan and find out who paid her off, because there's no way Mick actually did this." Ronan shuts the laptop and leans back on the leather sofa behind him. His wife, Maeve, brings in a tray of teacups, a kettle, some sugar cubes and a scone each on two plates, and sets it down on the table.

"Thank you, dear," he says, and she smiles politely.

"Any updates?" Maeve isn't here to snoop. She genuinely cares. We got news earlier that Mick's daughter is at the doctor surgery. Her labor has started, and the whole family is eagerly expecting word from my brother Declan.

"Nothing about Isla, no." After the shock in court today, finding out her father was a cheating scoundrel, Isla's spent a lot of time with her mother. It's no wonder the stress of this put her into labor. I sigh and nod at the plate. "Thank you for the tea, though."

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