Читать книгу Gallagher Justice - Amanda Stevens - Страница 12

HANDSOME AND CHARMING, with a confidence that Fiona found exceedingly annoying, Dylan O’Roarke had become her number one nemesis in the courtroom since she’d moved to the Criminal Prosecutions Bureau five years ago. Which was only fitting, she supposed, seeing as how their families had been mortal enemies for decades, Chicago’s own version of the Hatfields and the McCoys.

The feud had spanned three generations, beginning in the Prohibition Era when Fiona’s grandfather, William Gallagher, had played Eliot Ness to James O’Roarke’s Al Capone. Once close friends, the two Irish immigrants had become bitter rivals, not only because they’d chosen different sides of the law, but also because they’d fallen in love with the same woman, Fiona’s grandmother, Colleen.

Two recent marriages between the clans, including Dylan’s union with Fiona’s cousin, Kaitlin, had brought an uneasy truce between the families, but as far as Fiona was concerned, the peace accord didn’t extend into the courtroom.

So when he approached the prosecution table after court was adjourned, she glanced up with a fair amount of suspicion.

“Have you got a minute?” he asked her.

She snapped closed the latches on her briefcase and stood. “That depends.” Her gaze slid past him to where Vince DeMarco stood talking and laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Is your client ready to accept my offer?”

Dylan gave a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding? That wasn’t an offer, it was an insult. Second degree sexual assault and seven years at Stateville? No way my client’s doing any time. He’s walking and you know it.”

She gave him an angry glare. “He’s guilty, and you know it. Kimbra Williams is only seventeen years old, Dylan. How do you sleep at night?”

Dylan’s mouth tightened as he returned her glare. “I sleep just fine. How about you, Fiona? Ever have nightmares about Jessie Carver?”

An arrow straight through the heart.

Jessie Carver was one of the Fullerton Five who’d maintained his innocence from the first. He claimed that one of the other suspects in the case had implicated him in order to cut a deal with the prosecution, and then, after forty-eight straight hours of verbal intimidation, beatings and sleep deprivation, he’d signed a confession out of sheer desperation.

In one of those ironic twists, Dylan had represented Jessie Carver three years ago, and now he was defending one of the cops Jessie claimed had coerced his confession, proving that Chicago politics wasn’t the only profession that made for strange bedfellows.

“I believed Jessie Carver was guilty three years ago, and my feelings haven’t changed,” Fiona told him. “The investigation into the Area Three Detective Division was never about Jessie’s innocence. At least not for me.”

Dylan started to say something else, perhaps to argue the finer points of her logic, but then he shrugged. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come over here to start an argument with you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s sort of a fait accompli when you put a Gallagher and an O’Roarke in the same room.” She picked up her briefcase and started walking toward the exit. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Dylan fell into step beside her. “Kaitlin wanted me to remind you about her father’s retirement party.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Honestly, how many times do she and my mother think they have to nag me about that?” Between the two of them, they must have called her half a dozen times in the past two weeks. It wasn’t like she was senile, for Christ’s sake.

“She’s worried because evidently you forgot Erin’s baby shower last month, and before that, it was Nikki’s birthday party,” Dylan helpfully pointed out.

“I explained all that.”

“You were busy. Yeah, we all know how hectic your social life is, Fiona.”

Screw you, she thought angrily.

“Look, I know you have quite the progressive attitude regarding family these days, but this retirement party is a big deal to Kaitlin. She sees it as a way to cement her reconciliation with her father, and she wants the whole family together. And in her condition, I’d rather not have her upset.”

“I know it’s a big deal,” Fiona said impatiently. “I said I’d be there, and I will be. It’s next week, right?”

“Fiona, it’s tomorrow night.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. “Tomorrow night? That’s impossible.” Where had the days gone?

“So I guess you did need another reminder after all.”

Honest to God, if he smirked one more time—

“Oh, like you’d even be there yourself if it wasn’t for Kaitlin,” Fiona grumbled. Dylan and his father-in-law were hardly bosom buddies. Liam Gallagher had disowned his daughter when he’d found out about her elopement to Dylan, and had ordered her out of his house, never to return until she came to her senses and divorced that lowlife, scum-sucking O’Roarke.

Liam had only recently reconciled with the couple because Kaitlin was pregnant and he didn’t want to be cut off from his only grandchild.

Kaitlin was pregnant.

Could another baby shower be far off?

Fiona winced inwardly at the thought. The Gallaghers were suddenly procreating like bunnies. Her brother, John, and his wife, Thea, had had two sons in the space of six years, in addition to Thea’s daughter from a previous marriage. Her brother, Nick, and his wife, Erin—also an O’Roarke—were expecting their first child any day now. Fiona was happy for her brothers, she truly was, but seeing them with their families, all that love...