Having been released on bail, Enzo had kept a low profile for a month, but the day of his hearing had finally arrived. Virginia was filled with exhilaration. This was the break she'd been waiting for. The Chilvatis wouldn't want to spend the time and money on a trial, and there was no doubt in her mind that Enzo would offer up details surrounding Jack's murder during a plea bargain. He was that cocky. He was that stupid.

The captain had come along, sitting beside her in the first row of the gallery. Walt was there too, on the schedule as a witness, although his testimony would cover the overall details of the shooting only, since he had not seen Enzo firsthand.

Virginia was the first to be called.

After the DA led her through opening testimony, it was Anderson's turn.

The long-time Chilvati family attorney rose from his chair grandly, as a king would from a throne, and walked across the well-worn wood floor of the courtroom. "Lieutenant Robins," he drew out with a nod of his head.

Upon reaching the witness stand, he started to pace with one hand in his pocket while the other scratched his forehead. She had come to the realization that as good a lawyer as the man was, he was an even better actor. And thanks to his Gregory Peck good looks and her dad's love of old movies, she couldn't help but feel like she was facing off against Atticus Finch.

She glanced at the people in the gallery. They weren't impervious to the man's allure. Some were even leaning forward, captivated by the live legal drama being performed outside the confines of a television screen.

And he hadn't even started.

Keep your guard up, she warned herself.

He began with, "Is it true that you are the current owner of a gym named 'Jack's' at Main and Manchester Streets?"

"Yes."

"And is it true that you offer both martial arts training and boxing classes at this gym?"

"Yes."

"This training is offered for free if the participant gives you a gun?"

Virginia narrowed her eyes, wondering where he was going with this. "Well, yes, that is a program—"

"Yes or no answers will suffice."

She wanted to reach out and smack him. "Yes," she hissed.

"No questions, no repercussions for owning these unlicensed weapons?"

"Yes."

"And is the nature of this training designed to teach people how to kill?"

"Objection!" The DA shot up from his chair.

Anderson looked up at the judge. "Just trying to determine why people would give up what they consider their only line of defense, just to take a class."

The judge gave it some thought before deciding. "Overruled, but hurry up, counselor."

"Yes, your Honor." Anderson nodded, turning back to Virginia. Waiting.

"No," she drew out, knowing her eyes gave away her anger.

Anderson raised his brows. "You're saying that not one of these students could kill someone with their bare hands?"

"No . . ."

"So let me rephrase the question: Technically, they could kill someone?"

He was backing her into a corner and there was nothing she could do about it. She tried not to squirm in her chair. "Yes."

Murmuring spread through the gallery.

The judge hammered his gavel. "Quiet."

Anderson used his flair for the dramatic, turning his body so that the audience would get a good look at the concern he had pasted on his face. "Is it true you are training vigilantes at your gym?"

This time the murmuring was more pronounced. The gavel came down again. Virginia leaned into the microphone to ensure she would be heard. "No!"

Anderson rushed forward, getting into her personal space, an attempt to dominate and fluster her, a move she had seen done many times before. "Isn't it true that the men in question, these men in suits, were approached by one of your mobs and fired in self-defense to scatter them so they would have a chance to get away?"

The DA was up on his feet again. "Objection, badgering the witness," he shouted.

"Sustained," the judge replied, his scowl aimed at Anderson. "Back off, counselor."

"No further questions, your Honor."

Anderson pivoted and walked back to his seat, Virginia tracking his departure with some nasty vulgarities coming to mind that were best left unspoken. When he sat down, she allowed herself one glance at Mark who was seated two chairs over from the attorney with Enzo Lombardi stuck between them. Mark was concentrating on the wall in front of him, looking as if he'd prefer to be anywhere else but in this particular courtroom. Enzo was the only one acknowledging her existence, his beady little eyes fixed on her from his position between the two other men.

The DA stood up. "Lieutenant Robins," he stated, directing his voice more to the courtroom than to her. "What is the purpose of the training classes you offer?"

She took a deep breath, grateful to be able to expand on Anderson's twisted version of things. "There are many benefits. Mainly, it gets these kids off the street, keeps them busy, gives them a sense of purpose. It also teaches them responsibility—they must maintain a B average to be invited to the competitions we put on. We provide a tutor, approved and fully funded by the city, so that the kids can bring in their homework if they need help. There is no excuse for poor grades."

"And what is this deal with the guns?" The DA was bringing his own skills to the table, giving Anderson a scolding look before walking back to his desk.

"Since some of these kids can't afford the luxury of taking a martial arts or boxing class, we decided to pair up with the city's weeklong illegal firearms amnesty program. They received free classes for three months if they turned in a gun during that week. We collected seventeen."

More murmuring.

"I'll have to clear this courtroom if you can't keep it quiet," the judge announced.

The DA paused to let the threat sink in before asking, "These classes you provide, they are self-defense martial arts, correct?"

"Yes, and boxing, of course."

"And are these classes any different than what would be offered to youth at any suburban strip mall anywhere in the city?"

"No, not really."

"Not really? Can you explain that?"

"Our students can't afford the jis—the white uniforms and colored belts you see those kids wearing."

The DA glanced at the judge before continuing, "Is the intention of these classes to teach them to kill?"

"No, not at all. A big part of martial arts and boxing is mental discipline and mutual respect. Their focus is on self-defense. I wouldn't go out of my way to piss one of them off, but that's not why they are in the sport."

She heard snickering from the gallery as she finished. The judge glared across the room but let it pass.

"Do you think that these men fired in self-defense that day due to a fear for their lives from an angry mob trained to kill?"

"Objection, hearsay!" Anderson was now on his feet.

"I'll allow it. You brought it up, Mr. Anderson," the judge snapped. "Go on, Lieutenant."

Virginia nodded and turned back to the DA. "It's hard to claim self-defense when the victim is shot in the back . . . unless he is running backward at you."

The DA paused, just long enough to let the full meaning of the muffled laughter make itself clear.

"Quiet!" the judge yelled.

Anderson looked pissed.

"No further questions," the DA stated before sitting down at his desk.

Anderson stood up. "Redirect, your Honor?"

The judge sighed and nodded. "Okay, but make it brief."

The smug look on Anderson's face had the little hairs on the back of Virginia's neck standing up. "Lieutenant, do you know the defendant personally?" he asked as he made his way over.

"We have met a few times—professionally. He has been brought in for questioning on other cases."

"But never charged with any crime?"

"No."

"Do you have any personal biases toward him or his employers?"

Her chest tightened. "No."

"Is it true that you have had a sexual relationship with his boss, Mr. Mark Spinelli, a relationship that was ended abruptly by him?"

Her eyes flashed across the room to Mark, whose glare was burning into the attorney's back, making it look like he would throw his knives at the guy if he had them.

"Objection!" The DA was back on his feet, shouting, "What does the lieutenant's personal life have to do with this case?"

"I am trying to determine if the witness has a personal vendetta against the accused or the company he works for." Anderson lifted his arms, giving off an illusion of innocence.

The judge didn't look too happy when he dragged out, "Overruled."

The courtroom went eerily quiet, the silence a crushing weight pushing at her from all sides. Even the background sounds of coughing, throat clearing, and shifting of positions seemed to halt as the sea of faces turned toward her, wobbling in her vision like a mirage in a desert's hot sun. An intense heat blazed across her skin and she wondered if it was actually possible to spontaneously light on fire.

That would certainly distract them—for a little while anyway.

Anderson sighed, loud enough for the whole courtroom to hear, his shoulders lifting and lowering for effect. "Answer the question, Lieutenant. Have you had a sexual relationship with Mark Spinelli?"

She swallowed hard and felt detached from her body as it eased forward to announce the end of their well-kept secret. "Yes," she spoke into the microphone.

The courtroom erupted. Both men and women, most likely reporters, jumped from their seats and ran out the back doors. Hushed voices created a buzz throughout the room.

"Shit," Cap mouthed.

Walt closed his eyes, disappointment hardening his features.

Anderson practically skipped back to his seat, but his ass had barely touched the chair when he was grabbed around the base of the neck and pulled to the side. Enzo's body had been thrust forward, and he was all but kissing the table in front of him with Mark's elbow dug into his back.

Meanwhile, the judge was trying to get the court to settle down, giving his gavel a good workout. When the courtroom finally quieted, he spoke, "This court is in recess until tomorrow, at which time it will be closed to the public."

With one more bang, he stood.

"All rise," the bailiff called out.

The judge gathered up his files and left through the door behind him. When he was gone, Virginia stepped down from the witness stand and walked up to the DA, who was busy organizing papers while shaking his head.

"You couldn't tell me that vital piece of information?" he asked. The grey eyes that peered at her from behind wide-rimmed glasses looked dazed.

Probably not as dazed as hers, though. "I didn't know I was on trial."

The clasps on his briefcase snapped shut with a loud clack. "You are now."

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN 

That didn't go quite the way Virginia had planned, did it? What do you think Mark is going to do? I know you are all waiting for him to make a move. Just wait. Things are about to get serious.

Please vote if you liked the chapter. Please comment if you like me. Just kidding ;) But please, do, comment. I love hearing from you guys!