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“You dismissed the case?” Trista asks as I storm away.
I spin around, expecting a crowd of reporters, then laugh to myself. There’s so much crime, so many cases, and so many prosecutors, we outnumber the reporters ten to one.
“Yeah.”
“Why?” She holds her phone under my chin for a quote.
“Turn that off, and I’ll tell you over a drink.”
CHAPTER THREE
Jillian
One drink with Trista turns into two, then three. Then… I lose count.
“Holy shit,” she mutters into her water because she’s driving. “It’s after seven.”
She’s a mother with an adorable two-year-old and a husband at home. I’ve made her miss dinner with them with my complaining that slowly morphed into drunken whining.
Food would be a good idea, but the Jameson is meeting my caloric needs at the moment.
“Did I mention what I just told you was off the record?” I say, holding my breath.
“I know how to douse the truth with enough sources say about an unknown entity blah, blah, blah.” She waves me off.
Trista will add just enough fluff and drama to keep people reading without ever divulging anything sensitive. Or meaningful.
In the hours since the trial, while drowning my unease over the dismissed case, I did some digging of my own on Eoghan O’Rourke. He’s the consigliere for his older brother in Astoria, New York. There are plenty of notes about him and his family entered into the task force databases we share with the FBI.
One note from a special agent left chills in my veins:
Don’t let the Harvard education fool you. This man is high ranking and very dangerous.
Just being a lawyer for the mob isn’t evidence of a crime. If he’s committed any crimes, he has the power to cover them up.
“Anyway, there’s another case brewing that I want to work on,” I say to fool Trista into thinking I have my shit together.
I’ll just have to work harder to convince Daniel I’m director material and strong enough to take down Borgia Cosa Nostra Underboss Lazaro Scava.
I choke on my drink as piercing blue eyes from across the bar shatter my train of thought.
Eoghan O’Rourke.
He glances from me to Trista, eyes narrowing.
Does he know she’s a reporter?
“You should get going,” I warn her.
Eoghan got his brother’s case dismissed because he’s a dangerous man who even got to Daniel.
Would he actually hurt the mother of a two-year-old?
Not wanting to game-theory that out in my head, I hug Trista.
“You sure you’re all right here alone?” she asks with a tight squeeze.
“Of course.”
