"Lieutenant Robins, in your own words tell us again what you saw that day," the DA said.

She was back on the stand, intent on not letting Anderson rattle her. "Sergeant Abrams and I were walking our beat when we saw two men in business suits talking to four young men. Approaching on foot, we witnessed the two pull out guns and move the others into the alleyway. A shot was fired as we were closing in. The two men fled. When we reached the alleyway, we found one victim bleeding from a gunshot wound. I pursued the two suspects to a black Cadillac which sped off. I fired once, hitting the back taillight. At that time, a third man in the back seat of the car turned to look at me."

"Can you identify that third man?"

"Yes, it was Enzo Lombardi." She pointed across the room.

"No further questions, your Honor." The DA returned to his chair.

Anderson stood up. "Lieutenant Robins," he drew out as he crossed the room to stand in front of her.

Virginia lifted her chin, bracing herself for the worst.

"Were these young men all wearing the green armbands of the group nicknamed the Green Soldiers?"

"Yes."

"Did you see the faces of the two men who were allegedly assaulting these youths?"

"No."

"And have the"—his fingers made air quotes—"Green Soldiers been able to identify these two men?"

"Objection." The DA stood. "Those men are not part of this case."

Anderson looked at the judge. "I'm just trying to determine their link to my client, your Honor."

"Overruled," the judge answered.

Anderson turned back to Virginia and waited in silence for her answer.

"No."

"Okay, let me get this straight. The four Green Soldiers can't identify these men. You can't identify these men. So, we are relying on a glimpse of a third person in the back seat of a car as it was speeding away. . . How long would you say that glimpse lasted?"

"Not very long."

Anderson lifted his arms up, spreading them wide for the judge's benefit. "Five seconds? Ten seconds? Come on, Lieutenant. Aren't you trained to remember these little details?"

"Two seconds," she said, her eyes narrowing.

"Ahhh, I see." His hand came up and pulled at the bottom of his chin. "So, in two seconds, you, and only you, got a good enough look at a man sitting in the backseat of a car, as it sped away from you, in order to be able to identify him without a doubt?"

"Yes," she said, glaring over at Enzo.

"You said you shot out the taillight?"

"Yes."

"Does my client own a black Cadillac?"

"Yes."

"Did anyone check my client's car to see if it had damage to its rear taillight?"

"Yes." She knew where he was going with his questions. The Chilvatis owned a whole fleet of black Cadillacs.

"And was there any damage?"

"No." She pushed to get her point out there. "That's not to say it wasn't a Chilvati-owned vehicle."

"You didn't get the license plate number?" Anderson's jaw dropped as if this was the first time he had heard this valuable piece of information.

"No."

"That's all, your Honor." Anderson turned and sauntered back to his table.

"Anything else, prosecutor?" the judge asked.

When the DA shook his head, she knew from the deflated look on his face that there would be no plea bargaining.

"You may step down, Lieutenant," the judge said.

She sat through the rest of the hearing. No bystanders had seen Enzo in that car. The four Green Soldiers all gave testimony, all emotionally swaying, but not one of them had seen Enzo.

As she expected, both sides agreed to submit the case to the judge for ruling. Yup, sleeping with the defendant's boss had definitely tainted her credibility.

The judge didn't even bother to call a recess and review the transcripts before ruling. "I'm dismissing this case based on the lack of evidence to show probable cause that the defendant committed any crime."

Murmurs of congratulations rose from the defendant's side of the courtroom, and the judge banged his gavel. When all was quiet, he added, "I hope this decision does not give you a false sense of security, Mr. Lombardi."

Good, Virginia thought. Let him know you think he's guilty.

But the judge wasn't finished. "And Lieutenant Robins—"

Her stomach flipped and she clenched her fists.

"—I can't tell you how to lead your life, but you need to rethink the maturity level of these so called Green Soldiers of yours. Make sure they are skilled enough before you hand them your job. Otherwise, you're going to get one of them killed." The gavel came down with one final blow.

Virginia closed her eyes as the scathing words of the judge repeated in her head.

The bailiff called, "All rise."

Captain Beal, Walt and Paul walked up to talk to the DA. Virginia stayed put, glancing over at the defendant's table just in time to see Enzo shaking Mark's hand. As her anger raged, the collar and tie constricted around her throat, and she reached up to yank them loose. She took a few steps back, bent to retrieve her hat from the bench beside her, and marched right out of the courtroom.

The hallway was surprisingly empty, providing some relief with its quiet isolation. The only disruption was the clack of her heels as they pounded into marble, the sound repeating as it bounced off matching walls. She turned toward the exit, craving the fresh air, forgetting what was waiting for her outside.

Heads ripped around with the slamming of the door.

She froze and accepted her fate.

)l(

Bruce and Steve were standing next to the pillar farthest from the entrance and only a few yards away from the building's cornerstone, both of them keeping an eye on the press below. Their numbers had thinned out a little, but there were at least sixty of them still mulling around the bottom steps. They'd been pretty quiet until minutes ago when a buzz had started up, with most of them looking down at their phones. Either something more interesting was happening elsewhere in the city, or someone was feeding them information from inside the courthouse.

Bruce spotted her first. The professional mask she had worn earlier was gone, irritation now tightening her features. The door swung shut behind her. He knew it locked upon closing.

She was alone, facing a mob.

The hat she carried was slammed onto her head and pulled low over a furrowed brow.

"Where the hell is her escort?" Bruce muttered, alerting Steve to her appearance just as the rush of vermin started racing up the stairs, microphones extended out in front of them like bayoneted rifles on a battlefield.

"What do you think of the judge's ruling, Lieutenant?" was yelled.

Her reply was clear and concise as it carried on the afternoon's breeze. "It's bullshit!"

Bruce looked to his brother—it would take both of them—but there was no need to waste words. The grin was back on Steve's face.

So much for keeping their distance.

)l(

They had her surrounded in an instant. Virginia attempted a few of the stairs, but arms pushed into her, forcing her back. Each of them vied for her attention with a barrage of questions too numerous to respond to. The crushing effect had her feeling lightheaded. She tilted her head back with the hopes of catching some air, but that threw her off balance, making her stumble. Don't fall, she warned herself. She would likely be trampled when they all scrambled for a picture of the fallen cop—and she refused to provide them with that perfect photo op.

"Move it!" a male voice yelled as two people in front of her were forcefully pushed apart. A hand reached in, and before she could react, she was being pulled along in its strong grip. As a path cleared in front of her, she realized it was Bruce that had her. She caught a glimpse of Steve in front of him acting as the main pilot in their deflection of bodies, and he wasn't being gentle about it, either. In fact, she was surprised any of the reporters in his way remained standing. But if they dared approach Steve with any comeback action, they got another shove from Bruce and . . . well, those guys went down.

"Sorry!"

She had called it out three times before Bruce whipped his head around with a hard glare. "You should be apologizing to us, not these idiots," he threw back at her.

The sting of being chastised, by Bruce of all people, had her mouth slamming shut. He was right—it wasn't their job to get her out safely.

They made good progress even though she felt like a ball in an arcade game being bounced off of bodies left and right. Reaching the curb, Bruce opened the limo door in one smooth move and stepped into it, pulling her along behind him. Once they were seated, he let go of her hand. Steve closed the door and leaned back against it, crossing large arms in front of his chest, a definite deterrent to the mass of reporters he faced.

"What in the hell were you thinking?" Bruce spat before ducking his head to check on his brother outside.

She blinked back at him, still stunned by the close call she had walked into. "Thank you. I . . . I forgot they were out here. It felt like I was drowning there for a second." Her focus shifted to the floor, the scene replaying in her head as she tried to calm her racing pulse. What if I had fallen? If Bruce and Steve hadn't appeared when they did, she could have been seriously hurt. "That was a stupid move on my part, especially considering. . . "

The baby, she finished in her head, taken aback by the unexpected appearance of her maternal instinct. Too wrapped up in her own grief and anger, she hadn't thought much about the baby over the past couple of months. How horrible was that? What kind of mother was she? Tears filled her eyes with the sudden awareness of how much she wanted and loved the child growing inside of her.

When she lifted her gaze back to Bruce, anger was evident in his demeanor, but she had the oddest sensation that it wasn't aimed at her. He raised his hand to swipe a knuckle across her cheek and catch an escaping tear.

"They should have hung that scumbag out to dry," he said with distaste.

Shocked by his gentle touch, she could only nod her agreement.

The door beside her was yanked open, Paul's frame filling the breach. "You okay?" he asked as he checked her from head to toe before glancing at Bruce.

Tears weren't going to help soothe her brother. She wiped them away with her hands. "Yes, sorry, didn't mean to be so dramatic."

She got out of the limo as he stepped back, not caring that he crushed a number of toes in the process. Walt, Cap, and the other officers arrived, coming forward to surround her, pushing the crowd back.

Paul looked to Steve, who was still standing by the limo door. "Thanks for helping," he said, nodding in Virginia's direction.

"Hey, no problem, dude."

Paul frowned. "You look familiar. Have we—"

"Let's go," Cap barked.

There was a yell from the crowd: "Spinelli's out." The mob turned as one and started making its way back up the steps.

Bruce propelled himself out of the limo with a curse. Steve slammed the door shut and pushed past Paul to follow his brother, the two of them racing back up the stairs to repeat the same performance they had just given. Virginia looked for Mark, her search zeroing in on the door of the courthouse to find him standing firm and staring down at her, ignoring what was coming his way. They locked eyes over the bobbing heads of the pack that was about to devour him. She couldn't get a grasp on her emotions as she stood there, glued to the pavement, spellbound by the man she now knew she would never get over.

Not fully anyway.

Hands grabbed at her arms, pushing her in the direction of the Tahoe, taking her away from all the craziness.

Taking her away from him.

END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN

That got a little crazy, didn't it? What did you think of Bruce being such a hero?

Up next: Virginia discovers the truth behind all the special attention she's been receiving from those closest to her, and puts herself in a dangerous situation. Guess who shows up to help. I'll give you a hint: It's not Bruce ;)