The Prosecutor. Adrienne Giordano

wearing tan pants and a black sweater. Emma Sinclair. He’d never met her, but had seen photos of her, including the one from the morning paper still sitting on his desk. That photo hadn’t done Emma any favors. In person, her dark hair extended below her shoulders and, when Zac took in the soft curve of her cheek and her big brown eyes, something in his chest pinged. Just a wicked stinging that reminded him he was in desperate need of a woman’s affections.

      Except she was his opponent.

      Why the hell was Penny bringing her here?

      “Hello, Zachary,” Penny said in that sarcastic, singsong way she’d been addressing him for years. She stepped forward to give him the usual kiss on the cheek, but caught herself.

      Yeah, welcome to Awkwardville. For the first time, they were squaring off against each other in the professional arena. Considering that his father and his two siblings were all attorneys, Zac had known he’d eventually face one of them in court. The only thing that had saved him thus far was the Chicago crime rate providing enough cases to go around.

      Until now.

      Pen gestured to Emma. “Zachary Hennings, meet Emma Sinclair. Brian Sinclair’s sister.”

      Zac stepped around the desk and shook hands with Emma. What he expected, he wasn’t sure, but for some reason her warm, firm grip surprised him. Their gazes met for a split second and the intense, deep coffee brown of her eyes nearly knocked him on his butt. But he couldn’t think about Emma Sinclair and her alluring eyes and how they affected him. He had to think of Chelsea Moore.

      Dead Chelsea Moore.

      He released Emma’s hand and stooped to clear the files off the second chair in his office. The place was a mess. “Have a seat.”

      On his way back to his desk, he shot Penny a what-the-heck? look. She grinned. She wanted to play, he’d play.

      While doing so, he’d also remind his baby sister that he wasn’t a guy who liked to lose.

      * * *

      EMMA WATCHED ZACHARY HENNINGS—did he really want people calling him Zachary?—head back to his desk while she took the seat he’d cleared for her.

      He relaxed back in his desk chair, Mr. Casual. As if she’d believe he could be comfortable with Penny as the attorney on a high-profile case and the sister of the convicted sitting in front of him. He certainly looked the part, though. Then again, he had that yacht-club look about him. His short, precisely combed blond hair and perfect bone structure just added to the patrician image. The only thing slightly ruffled about him was the unfastened top button on his shirt and his loose tie. The look fit him, however. Country-club rugged.

      If she’d met him elsewhere, she’d have steered clear of him. In her experience, men who looked like that were either arrogant and patronizing or ignored her altogether. Being Miss Completely Average, she didn’t have the high-maintenance looks men like him went for and that was just fine with her. What she needed was a dependable, rock-solid man who could roll with the insanity of her life.

      Something told her Zachary Hennings had no interest in a woman with complications. Maybe that was an unfair judgment, but it wasn’t for her to worry about.

      “So,” Penny said. “Let’s talk about this video.”

      Zachary held up a hand and gave a subtle nudge of his chin in Emma’s direction. “Is this appropriate?”

      “She’s my intern.”

      Her intern. Funny.

      “Say what?”

      “She’s a law student who knows this case better than anyone. Trust me, in her first year at Northwestern she knows more about the law than the two of us combined did as first years. Suck it up. She’s staying.”

      Obviously amused by his sister’s antics, he cracked a wide grin. Emma cut her gaze to Penny, then back to Zachary before biting her lip. Down deep, the warrior in her wanted to join the fray, but watching these two hammer away at each other would be just as much fun.

      “You were saying about the video? I need a copy, of course.”

      “Of course.” She pulled her phone, hit the screen a couple of times and stuck it back in her purse. “On its way. I’m planning on filing a PCR.” Penny turned to Emma. “Post-conviction relief.” Emma nodded and Penny went back to her brother. “A video like this, you know we’ll get our hearing based on newly discovered evidence.”

      He shrugged. “No judge in Cook County will vacate a sentence in the murder of a cop’s daughter without something better than that video. And hello? Did the detective not have brain cancer? How do we know disease hadn’t brought on hallucinations?”

      “Please, Zachary. You’ll need to try harder than that.” Penny stood and adjusted the hem of her jacket. “Anyway, I only stopped to see which lucky prosecutor would face me in court. Now that I know, I’m off to make notes on this new evidence. Better start thinking about the State’s reply, big brother. See you at dinner on Saturday.” She gave him a finger wave. “Toodles. Love you.”

      Emma sat speechless as Penny strode from the office. Her attorney was one crazy chick, which might not be a good thing, considering that Brian’s freedom rested in her hands. But Penny had something. Maybe it was her brash attitude or her willingness to take a chance on Brian, but whatever it was, Emma liked it. A lot.

      From his desk chair, Zachary snorted. “She’s nuts. Get used to it.”

      Emma stood. “Maybe so, but I like her spunk.”

      “She has plenty of that.”

      Before she turned for the door, Emma stared down at him. “My brother is innocent.”

      “He was convicted by a jury of his peers.”

      “And juries never make mistakes?”

      No answer. It didn’t matter. “I’ve studied the evidence,” she continued. “The public defender blew this one. I can promise you my brother didn’t strangle anyone. I’d know.”

      According to the prosecution’s theory, Brian had left Magic—the nightclub—to meet the victim in the alley beside it. After he murdered her, apparently using the belt from her jacket, he supposedly went back into the club and partied for another hour.

      “Were you with him that night?”

      “No. But I know my brother. He stole four dollars from my wallet when he was twelve. An hour later the guilt drove him mad and he confessed.”

      Zachary shrugged. “He was twelve. He’s a man now. People change.”

      “Not my brother. He was living at home with my mother at the time of the murder. Want to know why?”

      “Is it relevant to my case?”

      “My brother is in prison. Everything is relevant.”

      Zachary tapped his fingers on the desk. “I’ll bite. Why was he living at home?”

      “Because our father died ten years ago and I’d moved out. He didn’t want our mother to be alone. He had a good job and could have easily afforded to be on his own, but he couldn’t stand the idea of his mother being by herself. That’s not a man who commits murder.”

      Emma stopped talking. The past year had taught her the value of silence. Silence offered that perfect span of time when each person decided who would flinch. She stared down at Zachary Hennings.

      A fine-looking man she desperately hoped would flinch.

      Finally, he stood. He was a good six inches taller than she was, but she held her ground and kept her head high. “No offense, Ms. Sinclair, but you’re far from impartial and the daughter of a good cop is dead. Any one of us, given the right circumstances, has the capability to commit murder.”

      “Not my brother, Mr. Hennings. You’ll see.” She turned to leave.