The Prosecutor

Chapter Five


After calling and confirming Detective Leeks was working, Zac left Emma in the car and climbed the few stairs leading to Area 2 headquarters. The short walk gave him a minute to clear his traitorous mind because, seriously, how many times would he have to shut down thoughts of Emma under him and moaning. He had no business wanting that. Not when a botched murder investigation was involved.

Once inside the building, he identified himself and told—no asking—the desk sergeant he wanted to see Detective Leeks.

Five minutes later, he was directed down a long hallway and told to take the last doorway on the left. That last doorway, not surprisingly, was an interview room. These dopes thought they’d play him by letting him stew in an interrogation room. This stunt only added fuel to his already raging fire.

He yanked out a chair, settled into it, threw his shoulders back and took a breath. He would control this conversation. Not Leeks.

Ten minutes they made him wait. With each ticking second, Zac got more steamed, all that negative energy spewing in his mind. Contain it. That’s what he’d do. Contain it and channel it. He’d been raised by a master strategist. He’d carve Leeks to pieces before he let this chump play mind games with him.

Finally, Leeks stepped into the room. The guy was a good four inches shorter than Zac, so Zac made sure to stand and greet him. Let the shorter man get a feel for looking up at him.

Leeks stared at him with dark, vacant eyes. Nothing there. No life. No anger. Nothing. After a brief stare-down, he must have come to the realization that intimidation tactics were useless. No dice, pal.

Leeks pursed his lips and made a smacking sound before dragging out the chair opposite Zac’s.

Zac waited for him to sit, hesitated a few extra seconds, then reclaimed his chair. The detective smirked. Yeah, he knew the alpha war game of standing over someone as long as possible. At least they understood each other.

Leeks pushed up the sleeves on his sweater. Most detectives wore sport coats and dress slacks. Maybe during the week Leeks did, too. Today he wore jeans and an expensive-looking sweater.

Zac sat forward. “I’ll make this quick, detective. I’m the prosecutor handling the Sinclair case. My guess is you know that already.”

“Affirmative.”

“Good. Let me also inform you that you are to stay away from anyone involved in this case. Anyone. Do you understand?”

Leeks shrugged.

“I’ll take that as a yes because the next time you threaten Emma Sinclair, I’ll dig up enough dirt on you that your superiors will have no choice but to relieve you of your badge.”

Leeks finally sat forward, all tough-guy shrugs and grimaces. “Listen, Ivy League, I didn’t threaten Emma Sinclair.”

Excellent. Precisely what Zac wanted to hear. He slapped Emma’s note on the table. “You didn’t say this?”

Leeks eyeballed him then picked up the paper. After reading it, he tossed it back and it floated in midair for a moment, crackling in the silence.

Leaning in, Zac mirrored the detective’s body language. “You expect me to believe Emma Sinclair lied when she said you walked up to her home in the middle of the night and told her troublemakers in this city get dealt with. You didn’t say that?”

“Hey, Ivy League—”

“Hey, detective, I’m not interested in having a conversation. I’m telling you what you need to do. Am I clear?”

Leeks slouched back—almost retreating, but then defiantly folding his arms across his chest. The guy’s body language was all over the place.

“Yeah. You’re clear. Crystal. But you better find a way to keep this guy in lockup. He murdered a young woman and his cute, defenseless sister is getting this city all churned up. Do your job, counselor.”

As if he’d let this scumbag lecture him. “After the garbage you’ve pulled, you think I’ll let you sit there and tell me how to do my job? Screw off, detective. Last I checked, my conviction rate was rock-solid. As long as I don’t have overanxious cops mucking it up, we’ll have a murderer behind bars.” Zac stood and headed for the door. “By the way, I went to Loyola. And make sure your son is available to me.”


Leeks shot out of his chair, sending the legs scraping across the cheap linoleum. “What?”

That extra four inches Zac had on Leeks played nicely here. It was tough to get large with someone taller and carrying an extra thirty pounds.

“You heard me. Have your son call me. I have questions about his relationship with Chelsea Moore. The sooner those questions are answered, the sooner this case goes away. I’m extending you a courtesy here. If you and your son choose not to take advantage of that courtesy, I’ll subpoena him. Your choice, detective, but either way, your son will talk to me.”

* * *

EMMA SAT IN ZAC’S sleek BMW, one just like Penny’s—and how cute was that?—thinking he should be coming back any second. As curious as she was about his meeting, boredom had set in more than ten minutes ago. How long did it take to go in there, tell this loser detective to back off and come back?

Her cell phone rang. Thank you. Penny. “Hi.”

“Hi. How’d it go with Zac?”

“Not sure yet. He’s in talking with the detective now.”

“OMG,” Penny squealed. “I love my brother. He’s so darn predictable. He’s probably tearing that guy apart as we speak. Listen, Emma. Good trial lawyers know their opponent’s weaknesses and use them. It doesn’t hurt that our opponent happens to be my brother and he has a streak of honor in him a mile long.”

“You manipulated him?”

“So harsh! I utilized my knowledge of his personality. Guaranteed he’ll come out of that meeting and say he’s subpoenaing Leeks’s kid.”

“Well, we should know shortly. I’m waiting in the car. I think it’s cute that you two have the same car.”

“His is two years older than mine. Our parents gave each of us one when we graduated from law school. Our older brother totaled his a year in. Those cars are the only ones they bought us. We had to pay for our first cars on our own. It was a good lesson in managing money.”

Emma glanced up and spotted Zac jogging down the few steps in front of police headquarters, his long legs moving fast. “Here comes Zac. Want to hang on until he gets here?”

“You bet.”

He swung into the car and Emma put the call on speaker. “I have Penny on the phone.”

“Hey,” he said. “Did you spring your guy?”

“I did. He got picked up on a drunk and disorderly. How did you do with Leeks?”

“I’ve alerted him that he should steer clear of my case. He’s also bringing his son to me for questioning.”

Emma’s heart lurched. “You’re kidding?”

Zac started the car, checked oncoming traffic and entered the fray known as the Saturday-morning rush. “I want to talk to that kid.”

“And he’s just bringing him to you?” This from Penny who obviously didn’t believe it.

“I’m good, Pen, but I’m not that good. I gave him the choice to either bring the kid to me or I subpoena him. Let’s see what they decide.”

“You’re a good man, Zachary.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You don’t think I know you played me? Pen, you’ve been doing this to me since you were twelve. I know you as well as you know me. In this instance, it works in both our favors, but I still can’t figure out why I let you get away with this nonsense.”

“It’s because of my powers of persuasion, big brother.” Zac waved his hand, but his grin stretched a mile. “Pick me up at four for dinner with the ’rents. And whatever you do, don’t try to sleep with my client.”

Emma made a gagging sound and Zac rolled his eyes. “Nice, Pen. Nice.”

“Going on record that I’ve advised you both. I’m not blind and I’m certainly not stupid.”

Zac made yapping gestures with his free hand. “Goodbye, Pen.”

Emma clicked off and dropped the phone in her lap. “Well, that was...awkward.”

“Nah. She’s just being Penny. You may have noticed that she likes to stir things up.”

“I noticed.”

“She’s unbelievable. Sometimes I think she’ll give me a stroke, but she’s funny as hell. That’s the problem with the men in our family. We’ve spent her lifetime letting her get away with things we shouldn’t let her get away with because she entertains us.”

“You’ve created a monster.”

“We have indeed,” Zac said.

He stopped at a red light and turned to her, his blue eyes twinkling too much for Emma’s comfort. Maybe Penny was onto something with that warning.

Plus, all that sibling banter had opened up the emotional sinkhole inside of Emma. Once upon a time, she and Brian had ribbed each other in much the same way. Now? Kind of hard to do with a glass wall between them and thinking about it pressed in on her. No sadness. Not now when they were making progress.

Soon things would change. She felt it. Finally, someone would question the victim’s boyfriend. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For pursuing the boyfriend. No one has done that for us.”

He stopped at the traffic light on the corner, let out a breath and turned to her. “No problem. Thank you as well. If it weren’t for you, the guy would be off the grid. Now, at least, we get to hear what he has to say.”

“Yes, we do.”

Their gazes locked again and the same crackling silence from earlier returned, making Emma long for something, anything that would offer a distraction.

A car horn blared—distraction granted—and Zac checked the stoplight. Green. “I’m hungry,” he said. “You hungry? We can grab a bite.”

She shouldn’t do it. He was the prosecutor on her brother’s case. And, well, the towel fantasy still looped in her mind.

When she didn’t answer, he gave her an earth-to-Emma look that earned him a swat on the arm.

“We can always discuss your brother’s case.”

She gasped. “Oh, so dirty. You know I can’t resist that one.”

“Part of being a good lawyer is knowing your opponent’s weakness.”

Unbelievable. “Your sister just said that to me! Right before you got into the car. I’m not kidding.”

He shrugged. “We learned from the master. Now, where shall we eat?”