He's her enemy. Her obsession. And the only man who has the power to destroy her.
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My name is Frank Monroe, and I am the most dangerous woman in Chicago. Not because I kill, but because I make it legal. I'm the lawyer the Irish mob calls when...
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I had orchestrated my own spectacular failure.
I had thought I was being clever. I believed that by keeping my brother at a distance, by hiding our connection, I was building a wall around him. It turned out, I had just provided my enemies with a blueprint, and delivered him to their doorstep with a ribbon tied around his neck.
Jamie losing his career was never part of the plan. My brother was a good man, he deserved none of this.
And Daniel Pierce. That name was a stain. Hector had made all these grand promises about handling his cousin, about reining him in. And the result had been a spectacular display of nothing.
And my brother, in his infinite, frustrating honor, had refused to press charges. He had called it being a sore loser. But Daniel, that piece of shit, had seen an opening. He had sent some poor fool into the precinct, beaten and bloody, to point a finger at Jamie. He had treated ruining an honest man's life like it was a game.
And the punchline? His rich daddy had already shipped him off to some luxury rehab in New York. As if a few weeks at a spa could scrub the filth from his soul. A snake sheds its skin, but it's still a snake.
But since Daniel was currently out of reach, I had decided to settle for the errand boy.
Sawyer had been gone for two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes of me pacing, my patience thinning with every tick of the clock. The waiting had been a physical itch.
Then, a knock had come. A welcome sound.
"Come in," I barked.
Sawyer stepped inside, his face a blank slate. But his eyes... his eyes told me everything. He had him.
"He's downstairs," he said. "Just like you asked. Untouched."
Good. He was mine.
The basement air was cold and thick. The man was tied to a chair, his head lolling like a broken toy.
Unharmed. So far.
I took the stairs slowly, letting each step echo. He heard me. He knew I was there. His whole body went rigid.
He lifted his head, our eyes met, and in that moment, he understood. He knew exactly how deep the hole was that he had dug for himself.
"The sheer audacity," I said, my voice calm, almost conversational. "You walk into a police station, you tell a lie that ends a good man's career, and you think there's no bill to pay?"
He flinched. "I didn't know he was your brother, I swear—"
My laughter was a short, sharp sound, devoid of any warmth. "Do you think that matters to me?"
