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She didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved.
She poured coffee into two of the travel mugs she kept for work — the thermos she’d given Logan was her only one — and walked across the street to give it to Ford.
He retracted the window with a smile when he saw her coming. “If that’s coffee I think I might love you.”
“It is coffee, but I’m afraid I’m a cold-hearted career woman. No time for love.”
He laughed and took the coffee off her hands. “Coffee’s better than love anyway.”
There was something painful behind his words, and she winced. He really was a beautiful man, with chiseled features, hazel eyes, and a smile that could melt chocolate.
“Personal experience?” she asked.
“Isn’t it always?” he asked.
“Oldest story ever told,” she said.
He lifted one of the mugs in a toast. “Here, here.”
“I’m going to head in and get ready for work. Do I need to do anything different today than I normally do?” she asked.
He shook his head. “More of our men got in last night. They’ll be assigned as security detail for you, Leo, and Bea, but I imagine Logan will go over all of that with you this afternoon. Just keep being vigilant, don’t take any unnecessary risks. Tell Bea the same.”
“Will do,” she said. “Thanks so much for what you’re doing. I feel a lot better knowing you and Logan are here.” She hesitated. “What time did he leave here last night?”
“Called me about five this morning,” Ford said. “I drove over and we switched cars.”
She nodded and lifted a hand in a silent wave before turning toward the house.
Logan had stayed all night.
While she’d been tossing and turning, thinking of him, remembering him, he’d been right outside, keeping her and Leo safe.
She didn’t know whether the fact of it made her happy or whether it was the saddest thing in the whole wide world.
* * *
She left the house at the same time as usual, kissing Leo goodbye and passing along the information Ford had given her to Bea.
Once upon a time, Gabriella had listened to music in the car. Now she turned on the radio to NPR and listened to the news. There was a brief mention of a motion made by Vitsin ’s counsel to change venues, but that was all that was said about the case.
She wasn’t worried. It was a toothless motion, a last-ditch effort to move the trial out of the city and into another one where the bratva wasn’t as notorious. The judge would decline the motion and the trial would happen in Cook County, just like they’d planned.
By the time she pulled into the underground parking garage she was feeling better, focused on the day ahead and planning to jot down some notes for her opening and closing arguments.
Most of the litigators she knew loved openings and closings. It was their chance to be theatrical, to wax poetic about pain and justice and passion. All eyes were on them during openings and closings, the jury hanging on their every word.
But Gabriella liked cross-examination best. It wasn’t sexy from the outside, but it required skill. Crossing was like stepping into the skin of a rattlesnake, coiling her way around the witness a little at a time.
Slowly. Silently.
She especially loved the moment when a witness realized she had them, the moment they answered a question and heard her rattle. It was always in their eyes, but by then, there was nothing they could do but watch it happen.
That moment, the moment before the strike, before she sank her teeth into them, was her favorite.
It was why she wasn’t cut out to be a criminal defense attorney. She loved that moment too much. If she were a criminal defense attorney, she would be striking against witnesses who might send one of the bad guys away.
Working for the state meant she could enjoy that moment. She was almost always sinking her prosecutorial teeth into someone who wanted to help the bad guys, and that made them bad by association.
