LITMIR.BIZ

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      “I know,” she said, shaking her head. “I know. What are the chances this Kirkle will give Yeoman up?”

      “I think once the trial date is set and he’s looking at his third strike on top of parole violation, he’ll flip.”

      She looked thoughtful. “And when he testifies against Yeoman, then Yeoman goes down too?”

      “That’s the plan,” Harte agreed, “if Kirkle makes a credible witness and the jury believes that Yeoman sent him and the others to threaten your grandfather.”

      “Can you prove it’s Yeoman who’s trying to run me down?”

      “I think so. I think it will be fairly easy to show him as a thug who hires thugs,” Harte continued. “It matches his style.”

      She ducked her head and took a sip of coffee. “Beating an old man to death,” she muttered.

      When she looked up, Harte was surprised to see a shimmer of dampness in her eyes. The two times he’d talked to her over the past three months since he’d been appointed to the case, she’d been determined and angry about her grandfather’s murder. Not once had he seen even the hint of a tear.

      “Okay,” she said, straightening. “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

      He was absolutely sure that was true. The spark in her golden brown eyes spoke of the kind of person she was. If she wanted something, she went after it. She didn’t sit back and wait. It wasn’t in her nature.

      “Look at the bright side. It’s possible the trial could even be over in a few days.”

      She eyed him narrowly. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

      He shrugged, being truthful. “No one knows anything for sure until it starts. But I can promise you this. Until the trial is over and Yeoman is in prison, you are in danger and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe.”

      “Thank you,” Dani said grudgingly.

      “Have you heard who defense counsel is? Felix Drury.”

      “Jury Drury? I’ve heard he’s been known to list dozens of potential witnesses on his intent-to-call list.” Drury was one of the best-known defense attorneys in Orleans Parish. He was known for his ruthlessness, cleverness and charm. He’d defended some very famous and very infamous people.

      Harte nodded. “He’s a shark.”

      “Can you limit the number of witnesses he can call?”

      “There’s not much case law on limiting the number of witnesses,” Harte said. “All I can do is discredit them or object if he tries to parade too many character witnesses in front of the jury. Of course, even if he doesn’t bombard us with witnesses, even if he rests early, the jury could take forever to deliberate.”

      “I thought you were confident,” she said, frowning.

      “I am fairly confident, but there are problems. You didn’t actually see the men, and you’re the only witness to what they said. As you know, that can be construed as hearsay. Chester Kirkle is wavering. I think he’ll roll on Yeoman. Until he signs on the dotted line, he’s a wild card. So it very well may come down to your veracity versus Yeoman’s reputation.”

      “Why is that even a question? He’s a drug dealer and I’m a public defender.”

      “He owns twenty-three Hasty Mart convenience stores in the New Orleans area. On paper, he’s a fine, upstanding businessman who made a couple of mistakes in his youth. He’s known for his substantial political contributions as well as community support. And he’s never been arrested as an adult,” Harte said.

      “Oh my gosh, the way you’re talking, he sounds a lot more like a model citizen than a thug. We’ve probably already lost.”

      “Not if I can help it. I’ve got some feelers out about his connection with Stamps and Paul Guillame.”

      Dani groaned as she rose to put her mug in the sink. “So the trial could last from one day to forever. Please don’t make me stay locked up until the trial is over. Why can’t the police officers babysit me here?”

      Harte stood too. He reached around her to set his mug down, and immediately regretted it. It put his nose way too close to her hair, which smelled like strawberries and sunshine. He backed up. “You know the answer to that,” he said, his voice a bit husky from reaction.

      “They know where I live,” Dani responded, hoping the flutter in her pulse wasn’t evident in her voice. Thank goodness he’d backed away. He’d been way too close to her as he set his mug in the sink. His arm brushing hers along with his warm breath against her hair had sent a thrill through her, a thrill she didn’t welcome. She thought she’d gotten over this little crush, or whatever it was. After all, even though she’d been wildly attracted to him from the first moment she’d met him as opposing counsel, she’d quickly seen how pompous and arrogant he was, with his custom suits and his designer briefcase.

      She turned toward him, forcing her mind back to the problem at hand. “How long do I have to get ready?”

      “Go pack. I’ll wash the mugs and the coffeepot. You can call the newspaper and the post office from the Band-B.”

      “This is so inconvenient,” she whined as she turned on her heel.

      “Not as inconvenient as getting yourself killed,” Harte shot after her.

      TWO HOURS LATER Dani pulled the crisscross strap of her purse off over her head and tossed it onto the white bedspread patterned with roses and lovebirds as Harte rolled her suitcase into the room. The entire bedroom was decorated in cluttered Victorian, just like the living room she’d just walked through. Frilly, lacy white curtains graced the windows, and every surface was covered with doilies, vases of silk flowers and filigreed photo frames.

      The room was much too girlie for her taste. It was beautiful and she certainly appreciated pretty feminine things, but she limited the lace and frills to her underwear. She preferred her clothes tailored and her furnishings and décor sparse and open.

      “Ugh,” she groaned.

      “What?” Harte said. “Is something wrong?”

      She swept the air with her hand. “You tell me. Do I look like the type who would live among roses and lace?” She winced as she remembered the pink lacy panties and bra she’d donned this morning.

      His gaze sharpened as if he were activating X-ray vision.

      “That was a rhetorical question,” she said archly. “Why am I on the first floor? Wouldn’t I be harder to get to upstairs?”

      Harte was still looking at her.

      “That one wasn’t rhetorical,” she said.

      He blinked and met her gaze. “Yeah, you’d be harder to get to, but also harder to get out. I don’t want you stuck with no means of escape.”

      She frowned. “Means of escape? Really? I thought the reason you brought me here was so they won’t know where I am.”

      He nodded. “That’s true. But it’s possible that someone could follow me or the police officers.”

      She knew she had to have a police babysitter, but him? “You?”

      “I’ve got to prep you for your testimony. And since we’re paying for this lovely place, we might as well use it. Besides, I don’t want you traveling back and forth to my office—or my home.” His mouth curved up in a quick, crooked smile, different from the knowing smirk he usually sent her way. It was a little comical and very charming.

      Charming? Where had that come from? Dani shook her head.

      “What?” Harte asked.

      “What?” she retorted.

      “You

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