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least, in which Allison Gray is posing for the camera, black and blue, battered and bruised.

The entire room gasps at once as Fiona takes us frame by frame, looking in depth at large, dark welts along Allison’s bare arms, her thighs and torso covered in bruises of every shape and color.

Fiona lifts her chin to her client. “Did Carter Cameron give you these bruises?”

“Yes,” Allison says it loud and crisp as she looks right at me. “He did that to me. With his own hands, he hit me.”

“Who took these pictures, Allison?”

“I took them myself. I made copies, and I also sent digital copies to my mother.” She nods to a tearful woman in the front row.

“And why did you do that?”

She takes a breath. “Because if anything ever happened to me, I wanted her to know who was responsible.”

A stunned silence fills the courtroom as every one of us tries to absorb the horror from those pictures.

The poor woman was bloodied to a pulp. No human should have to endure what she did. If anyone ever did that to Evie, I’d kill them myself.

“Allison, why do you think Carter never hit you on the face?”

The girl’s chest bucks. “So the world wouldn’t know what he was capable of.”

Fiona nods to Everett. “The defense rests.”

“Very well.” Everett looks to the deputy DA. “Mr. Wolfe? Would you like to cross-examine the witness?”

“Yes.” Mr. Wolfe steps forward, and Annie belts out an audible sigh as if she were the president of his fan club, and at this point she just might be.

Flo raises a brow. “Can’t blame the girl, Lot. The dude’s a hottie.”

“Ms. Gray, you purchased a movie ticket about ten minutes prior to arriving at Carter Cameron’s home. Why is that?”

“I thought I would see a movie.” She shakes her head as if she didn’t understand what he’s getting at.

“But you knew that Carter had invited you to arrive at his house about ten minutes after that movie was set to begin. Could you have purchased that movie ticket in order to have an alibi because you arrived at Carter Cameron’s home with a premeditated plan to kill him that day?”

“Objection,” Fiona shouts.

“Sustained.” Everett gives Mr. Wolfe a stern look. “No conjecture, please. Go on.”

Mr. Wolfe closes his eyes a moment. “Ms. Gray, those bruises in those photographs—that is clearly you in the image.” He glowers at the screen a moment because it’s clear Fiona bested him. “Did you give those bruises to yourself?”

Fiona stands as the entire courthouse breaks out into deafening groans at the below the belt hit.

“Objection,” she sings, and Everett nods.

“Overruled. Ms. Gray, might I remind you, you are under oath. Answer the question, please.”

She takes another breath before leaning forward. “No. I did not give those bruises to myself. It was Carter who gave them to me.”

Mr. Wolfe stares at Allison Gray an inordinate amount of time. You can see the frustration in his eyes as he’s slow to concede.

“Your Honor, the prosecution rests at this time.”

Wow.

The fellow jurors and I take a collective breath of relief.

It’s over. And we survived.

But, Carter Cameron didn’t survive, and I suppose that’s the point.

Everett lets us know that bright and early tomorrow we’ll hear closing arguments and then move straight into deliberations.

And before I know it, the day is done.

Now to move on to the night.

Flo gives a devilish grin my way. “You look like you’ve had a hard day, honey.” She gives a wink my way. “Nothing a little time at the strip club won’t cure. And I have a feeling the good judge will forgive you for all those outbursts if you let him tag along.”

Here’s hoping she’s right.

Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club, here we come.

Rocky Romero had better be ready to spill his guts, especially about the things that Flo is trying to keep away from me.

Chapter 13

Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club is located right smack in the armpit of Leeds.

Leeds sits just south of Honey Hollow, and it’s a hard town with a hard reputation but is generally populated with nice people if you’re not counting the mob. But since the mob presence is very real here, it’s a town I’d rather avoid than visit.

Of course, tonight’s visit is practically a requirement. Everett agreed to join me, but contrary to Flo’s comment back at the courthouse, he has no real interest in the scantily dressed—or undressed as it were—women on stage. Everett truly only has eyes for me.

“Noah should be here soon,” Everett says as soon as we step into the club. The interior of this questionably moral establishment lives up to the hue in its moniker. The walls are covered with red damask, the carpet is crimson, the lights are dim, and you guessed it, fire engine red, and the seats and tables share the same fiery hue. Loud cheesy music belts from the speakers as girls who wear nothing more than G-strings and pasties dance on the stage that jettisons into the middle of the room.

The waitresses share the same attire, and judging by the men waving dollar bills in the air, it’s a winning look on both waitresses and dancers alike.

“You called Noah?” There’s a twinge of a whine in my voice. “Noah is going to ruin everything. This placed is owned by the Canellis, and they are all too familiar with who Noah is.” It’s true. The Canellis not only own the place, but they run all sorts of dubious businesses in the underground—both physical and literal—portion of this place. There’s a full casino, a loan shark division, and a freaky sex club that I once found my mother lurking in. I wish I were kidding about any of that, especially that part about my mother.

“Lot Lot!” an all too familiar voice calls to me from the bar.

“Speaking of mothers,” I mumble to myself as Everett and I head over to where Carlotta is seated. And the closer I get, the more I’m forced to squint as I try to

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