Page 12 of The Devil's Price

"My husband is a good man," Brennan offers, but she looks sad now, eyes searching her husband's face.

"Mrs. O'Connor, did you know your husband had a secret business running out of the barns on your property?" She stares at Brennan, who does a very lovely job of feigning ignorance.

Brennan glances at the judge with eyes wide and eyebrows raised in a fake expression of shock. "Well, no, ma'am. We're farmers." Just as we coached, Mick's wife is doing a fantastic job.

"Is it true that your husband, Mick, was involved in several altercations over the years, four of which resulted in charges being pressed against him for domestic violence?" Siobhan is going for the jugular now, and Brennan says nothing. "And is it true he spent thirty days in jail for one of those incidents?"

Brennan's eyes bounce back and forth between Mick's and the prosecutors. We had no idea this was going to be brought up. No one prepared her for how to answer this. We focused on coaching her how to avoid the topics of Mick's businesses.

"Mrs. O'Connor, answer the question." The judge nudges her, and she clears her throat.

"Yes." Brennan is terrified. I can see it on her face.

"Mrs. O'Connor, is it true that one of those incidents was something that sent you to the hospital?" There it is. The guillotine has dropped. Siobhan went there fast too.

Brennan's head drops and she covers her mouth, stifling a sob, but Siobhan says, "No further questions, your honor." It's a cheap trick designed to shock the jury—who are speaking in hushed whispers right now—into thinking Mick is abusive. It won't stand.

Mr. Quinn stands now, poised to undo everything Siobhan just did. He rounds the table and walks straight up to Brennan, offering her a tissue from his pocket. It's like he orchestrated this knowing how the jury would look at her. It's pity, and it tugs their heart strings, especially because it comes from Mick's solicitor.

"Here you go, Mrs. O'Connor, I'm sorry counsel has dragged you through this. Do you need a moment?"

That's it, Quinn, play to their sympathies. Brennan is a helpless wife forced to turn on her husband, and the jury is eating out of your hand now. Just a few cards left to play now, and we'll see the shock on Siobhan's face, and I wish I could see it too. The same expression she had when I dropped to my knees and devoured her.

"No, that's okay." Brennan dabs her eyes and sniffles and Quinn goes on.

"Mrs. O'Connor, for clarification, please tell the court why you were hospitalized that night." He hovers, the ever-doting solicitor who wants the jury to eat out of his palm.

Brennan sniffles and begins. "We had someone break into our barn and mess with the animals. It was during the day whenMick was in the lower pasture. I rushed out with a shovel to chase them off, a young man with no sense, really. And when Mick came running, he—" She stopped short and looked embarrassed. "Well, he ran me over entirely. I hit my head quite hard, but he caught the bastard trying to steal one of our horses."

The courtroom erupts into gasps and hushed whispers again, and I chuckle. I remember that story Isla told us a few months back. She was utterly shocked to find out her father was chief of his own crime syndicate and never connected things together. Stories like that one are what bloodthirsty solicitors go after when they're scrambling for real evidence. Emotional manipulation is what it is.

"So it was an accident that happened when someone broke into your barn?" Quinn eyes the jury and turns back to face Mick as he speaks to Brennan. "And tell me about the other times your husband, the defendant, Mick O'Connor, was charged with assault."

"Well, all of them were times when someone came onto our property, Mr. Quinn. Mick was just protectin' our land." Brennan is brilliant, and Mick sits tall and proud. Of course, there's proof for all of this.

"Your Honor, I'd like to enter into evidence these documents from court history proving Mr. Quinn's actions were in self-defense of his own property and do not reflect the nature of his personality whatsoever." Quinn picks up a stack of papers from his table and walks them to the judge's bench. Siobhan glares at him and can't even object. This is going swimmingly.

After a few moments, Judge Callahan looks up at Quinn and nods, and Quinn says, "No further questions, Your Honor."

Pews squeak and chairs squeal as folks readjust the way they're sitting. When the judge instructs Siobhan to call her next witness, she turns to meet my gaze and there's a fire there, a hunger for truth, or maybe for me, I'm not sure. Ronan, seated behind me, taps my shoulder.

"How's it going?" he asks in a whisper. I know he's referring to the plan I have to sway Ms. Gallagher's opinion of Mick and help him become a free man again.

"Good. I have her right where I want her," I throw over my shoulder in an equally hushed tone.

"You'd better," Ro says, and as he does, Siobhan calls his name.

"Your Honor, I'd like to call Ronan O'Rourke, chief of the O'Rourke Clan."

The room stills and goes silent. I'm not sure what she's going to ask him, but now I know why he's here.

9

SIOBHAN

Liam's chastising isn't helping my already sullen mood. After Brennan O'Connor made me look like a fool in cross examination, I made it worse by calling Ronan O'Rourke. The subject of planted evidence came up and the judge declared a recess immediately. Now all I want is to relax and unwind after a hard day, and my friend the detective Garda thinks I'm game for a bickering match.

"I told you, there was nothing I could do." It's been five days since I left the sealed envelope with diamonds and the drowned wire on Liam's desk while he was out investigating something. He's tried to call me several times, and each time, I let it go to voicemail. Honestly, I'm surprised he hasn't just shown up at my penthouse and demanded I pay him back for the damaged property.

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