Adrienne Giordano - The Prosecutor

Her touch spilled heat into Zac’s gut. He was no saint, but he could honestly say he hadn’t felt that kind of fire in a long time. Whether it was wishful thinking or plain wanting action, he didn’t know, but he liked it. Given his current status as the prosecutor on her brother’s case, thinking like that would lead him nowhere good.

Emma snatched her finger back. He smiled and her cheeks immediately flushed. Too damned cute. Even if he should be running like hell.

“I need to go,” she said.

For safety, Zac stepped far enough out of reach so he didn’t do something stupid and touch her. “Yes, you do.”

Thank you to my husband, who continually offers support and incredibly corny jokes that make me smile. You are the love of my life and I’d be lost without you. To Gigi Giordano Pallitto, you rock, girlfriend! Thank you for your never-ending patience while I tackled legal research. I’ve always said it’s good to have a lawyer in the family. Hopefully, I haven’t mangled the massive amount of information you provided!

To John Kocoras, I so appreciate your early input while I plotted this story. Who knew I’d find Brady and Giglio material so fascinating?

And now for my usual suspects, whom I couldn’t complete a book without. Thank you, Theresa Stevens, for once again pushing me on the tiny details in my writing. I wish I could bottle all you’ve taught me and share it with other writers. You’re the best! To Tracey Devlyn and Kelsey Browning, thank you for your constant support and for traveling this road with me. It’s been an amazing ride. Lucie J. Charles and Misty Evans, you always allow me to disturb your day with critiques and brainstorming ideas, and I’m continually thankful for your help.

John Leach, there aren’t enough words to thank you for sharing your law enforcement knowledge. With each book, you give me new possibilities for my stories.

Thanks to my editor, Denise Zaza, for joining my lunch table the day we met. I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to work with you. It’s been a wonderful experience. To Dana Hamilton, thank you for your guidance throughout production on this book.

Finally, to my son, who reminds me every day why love is so important. I love you.

The Prosecutor

Adrienne Giordano

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author ADRIENNE GIORDANOwrites romantic suspense and mystery. She is a Jersey girl at heart, but now lives in the Midwest with her workaholic husband, sports-obsessed son and Buddy the Wheaten Terrorist (Terrier). She is a cofounder of Romance University blog and Lady Jane’s Salon-Naperville, a reading series dedicated to romantic fiction.

Adrienne decided to write The Prosecutor after seeing a news segment on a wrongly convicted man. For more information on The Defender , Adrienne’s next Mills & Boon ®Intrigue book, please visit www.adriennegiordano.com. Adrienne can also be found on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/AdrienneGiordanoAuthor, and on Twitter, at www.twitter.com/AdriennGiordano. For information on Adrienne’s street team, Dangerous Darlings, go to www.facebook.com/groups/ DangerousDarlings.

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For Elisa and Chris, who make the complexities of sibling relationships easy to navigate. I love you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Assistant State’s Attorney Zac Hennings leaned back in his chair the second before a newspaper smacked against his desk.

“If there’s any blowback on this,” Ray Gardner said, “it’s yours.”

Zac glanced at the newspaper. On page one, below the fold, was a photo of a young woman—brunette—gazing out a window framed by a set of gold drapes. Someone’s living room. The headline read Fighting for Justice. He skimmed the first few paragraphs. The Chelsea Moore murder.

A burst of adrenaline exploded in Zac’s brain. Big case.

Turning from the newspaper, he looked back to his boss. Ray’s generic gray suit fit better than most he wore but still hung loose on his lean frame. Once in a while, to keep his staff sharp, Ray would show up in a blue or black suit. Regardless, the guy needed a good tailor, but Zac wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it. Not when Ray led the Criminal Prosecutions Bureau, the largest of the six divisions of the Cook County State’s Attorney’s Office.

Ray gestured to the newspaper. “The Sinclairs got traction with this. Steve Bennett—”

“The detective? The one who died last week?”

“That’s him. Brain cancer. He apparently refused to face his maker without clearing his conscience. He sent Emma Sinclair a video—starring himself— telling her the witness who ID’ed her brother wasn’t sure he got the right guy. According to Steve, detectives pressured the witness into saying he was positive.”

Zac took his time with that one, let it sink in. “We locked up Brian Sinclair for murder and now we’ve got deathbed revelations?”

“Something like that. The State’s Attorney called me at six this morning after seeing her newspaper. She wants the office bulldog on this. That’s you, by the way. You’ll have all the case files this afternoon.”

More files. Every open space in Zac’s office had been jammed with stacks of folders containing all the lurid details of crimes ranging from robberies to murders. Where he’d put more files he had no idea, but as one of nine hundred assistant prosecutors in Chicago, a city plagued with over five hundred murders last year, he had bigger problems than storage space.

Not for the first time, his responsibilities settled at the base of his neck. He breathed in, gave that bit of tension its due diligence and put it out of his mind. Unlike some of the attorneys around him, he lived for moments like this. Moments when that hot rush of scoring an important case made him “the man,” marching into court, going to battle and kicking some tail.

The cases were often brutal, not to mention emotionally paralyzing, but his goal would always be telling the victim’s loved ones they got a guilty verdict. No exceptions. In this case, they’d already convicted someone. Zac had to make it stick.

Adding to the drama was Chelsea’s father, Dave, who was a veteran Chicago homicide detective. A good, honest cop who’d lost his child to a senseless act of violence.

In short, Zac wanted to win.

Every time.

“We’re already behind the curve with this article,” Ray said.

“I’ll get us caught up.”

When Chelsea Moore’s murder occurred, Zac had been grinding his way through misdemeanors. After getting promoted to felonies, he’d worked like a dog to win his cases and it paid off. Big-time. Ray had just assigned him a politically and emotionally volatile case that he’d bleed for in order to keep Chelsea’s killer behind bars.