“Actually, Morgan’s not coming today,” said Mark Whitehead, the lead defense attorney, in response to Kyle’s question. “He had a conflict with another trial. A new guy filed an appearance yesterday afternoon; I don’t remember his name. Ryan something.”

“So I don’t get to say good-bye to Morgan in person?” Kyle asked. “Aw, that’s a shame. We had such a special connection—it’s not every day a man calls you a ‘cyber-menace to society.’ “

The door to the courtroom slammed open.

Kyle turned around, curious to check out this mope the U.S. Attorney’s Office had rustled up on short notice, and—

Well, hello.

Those certainly didn’t look like a mope’s legs.

Sitting in his chair at the defense table, Kyle’s gaze traveled from the ground up, taking in the high heels, sleek legs, black skirt suit and naughty good-girl pearls, and finally came to rest on a pair of gorgeous—and shockingly familiar—amber eyes.

Eyes that held his with bemusement.

Ho-ly fuck.

Rylann.

Kyle watched as she strode up the aisle toward him, looking criminally sexy in her suit and heels. She’d changed her hair—gone was the cute chin-length bob. Now she wore it long, tumbling over her shoulders in thick, raven-colored waves.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, stopping at the defense table. “Only the six of you today?”

Kyle fought back a grin. Yep, still as sassy as ever. His five lawyers immediately sprang to attention and rose to their feet. Slowly, he stood up as well.

Rylann introduced herself as she shook Mark’s hand. “Rylann Pierce.”

Pierce. After nine years, Kyle finally had a last name.

She shook hands with the rest of his lawyers, then made her way to him. With the edges of her lips turned up in a smile, she held out her hand. Her voice was low and throaty, with the same teasing note as the night they’d met. “Mr. Rhodes.”

Kyle slid his hand around hers. The most innocent of touches, but with her it felt downright sinful. “Counselor,” he said in a low voice, as intimate as he dared given their surroundings.

She cocked her head. “Shall we do this?”

It was only after she turned and walked to the opposite side of the courtroom that Kyle realized she’d been talking to his lawyers, not him.

She set her briefcase on the prosecution table just as the door to the judge’s chambers flew open. “All rise!” called the clerk. “This court is now in session, the Honorable Reginald Batista presiding.”

Everyone in the courtroom rose to their feet as the judge took his seat and the clerk called his case. “United States versus Kyle Rhodes.”

Rylann stepped up to the podium along with Kyle’s lead attorney.

“Rylann Pierce, representing the U.S. Attorney’s Office, your honor.”

“Mark Whitehead, for the defense.”

The judge looked up from the motion he held in his hands. “Since both parties and what appears to be the entire Chicago press corps are in attendance, we might as well get right down to business.” He set the papers off to the side. “We’re here on a rather unusual Rule 35 motion filed by the U.S. Attorney’s Office, a motion to reduce the sentence of the defendant, Kyle Rhodes, to time served. My understanding is that Mr. Rhodes has served four months of the eighteen months’ incarceration ordered by this court.” The judge turned to Mark for confirmation. “Is that correct, counselor?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Mark said. “Two weeks ago, per an arrangement with the U.S. Attorney’s Office, Mr. Rhodes was released from Metropolitan Correctional Center and has been serving his sentence in home detention.”

The judge took off his reading glasses and turned to Rylann. “Ms. Pierce, I’ve seen the appearance you filed yesterday with the clerk’s office, and I appreciate that you haven’t been involved in this case prior to these proceedings. But I have to say, I’m a little surprised by this motion. During the sentencing hearing, your office argued—quite vehemently—that I should order Mr. Rhodes to serve the maximum sentence. I believe terrorist and cyber-menace to society were two of the terms Mr. Morgan used to describe the defendant. Now, four months later, you want to reduce that sentence to time served.”

Kyle shot a nervous glance at the four lawyers sitting at his table, not liking the sound of that. He’d been under the impression that this motion was a done deal.

Then a beautiful voice spoke out on his behalf.

“The circumstances have changed, Your Honor,” Rylann said. “The U.S. Attorney’s Office, in conjunction with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, made an arrangement with the defendant’s sister, Jordan Rhodes. In exchange for Ms. Rhodes’s assistance in an undercover investigation, our office agreed to petition this court for the reduction of Mr. Rhodes’s sentence. Ms. Rhodes upheld her end of the deal, and now we would like to honor ours.”

“And while I note that this court is not bound by any agreements the government has made pertaining to the defendant, I’m going to grant your motion, counselor,” the judge said. “The defendant’s sentence is hereby reduced to time served.”

Kyle blinked. Just like that, he was free.

Then the judge turned to him, peering down sternly from his bench. “But do us all a favor, Mr. Rhodes: stay off of Twitter. Because if I see you in my courtroom again, there won’t be any deal that can save you.” He banged his gavel. “This court stands in recess.”

“All rise!” the clerk shouted, and the entire courtroom rose to its feet.

Pandemonium ensued as an excited roar rippled through the crowd. Cameras flashed in Kyle’s eyes as a mass of bodies, including his lawyers, Jordan, and his dad, swarmed him. Reporters surged forward, eager for a quote, but Kyle pushed past them, catching sight of Rylann as she grabbed her briefcase and turned to leave.

They met in the center of the aisle just as several reporters shoved microphones in both their faces.

“Ms. Pierce! Does the U.S. Attorney’s Office have any comment about the fact that Kyle Rhodes is once again a free man?”

When Rylann’s eyes met his, Kyle felt as if every nerve in his body had been zapped with a body Taser.

He peered down at her boldly, remembering well this woman who’d managed to get under his skin—in more ways than one—with only a walk home. He waited for her to say something, any kind of quip or wink or subtle nod to the fact that they had a prior history. But just as her lips parted, undoubtedly ready with what he assumed would be some sort of saucy zinger, another camera flashed.

She blinked—and the sparkle was gone from her eyes, replaced by an all-business expression as she turned to the reporters. “Only that we are satisfied with the resolution of this case.”

Then, without so much as a glance back in his direction, she brushed past the reporters and walked out of the courtroom.

Seven

THURSDAY EVENING AFTER work, Rylann met Rae for dinner at RL Restaurant on Michigan Avenue. It had been a busy couple of days for both of them, with Rylann settling into her first week at her new office and Rae scrambling to get a motion on file, so this was the first chance they’d had to get together since Rylann’s in-court reunion with Kyle.

A reunion she’d thought about more these past couple days than she cared to admit.

“I can’t believe you haven’t said anything yet,” Rylann led in after the waiter brought their drinks. “Have you been following the news at all this week? Perhaps you heard a little something about a certain smug-dimpled ex-con?” She’d been dying to talk to somebody about the court appearance, and naturally that person was Rae.

Rae put down the menu she’d been reading. “Oh my God, yes—I’ve been meaning to ask you about that since Tuesday. I’ve just been so swamped with this summary judgment motion. I saw that the judge reduced Kyle Rhodes’s sentence to time served.”