About That Night (FBI/US Attorney #3)(21)

When Kyle saw Jordan smile at the FBI agent—some sort of secret, inside-joke-type smile—he reluctantly had to admit that the two of them appeared very into each other. It was weird to have to watch them being all affectionate—and kind of gross, actually, seeing how she was his sister—but sweet nonetheless.

Just then, another murmur flowed through the crowd, and everyone stopped and stared as business entrepreneur and billionaire Grey Rhodes strolled in wearing a tailored navy suit.

He took a seat on the other side of Jordan. “Hope I didn’t miss anything. I’ve been twittering with excitement all morning.”

Jordan laughed. “Good one, Dad.”

Shaking his head, Kyle turned around in his seat and faced the front of the courtroom. Seriously, there were times when he thought that his family would actually be disappointed when this whole debacle was over. He half-expected to see them pull out popcorn and Cokes while they waited for the That Kyle Sure Is a Funny Asshole show to get started.

Speaking of ass**les, Kyle checked his watch and looked over at the empty prosecution table. “Where’s Morgan?” he asked his lawyers, referring to the assistant U.S. attorney who’d called him a terrorist and demanded the maximum sentence. Not that Kyle had expected a mere slap on the wrist for his crimes. But he was no fool—the U.S. Attorney’s Office had sensationalized his case, seizing on the chance to make a name for themselves by dragging his name through the mud. He highly doubted they would’ve demanded the maximum prison sentence if he hadn’t been the son of a billionaire—and his lawyers had said the same exact thing.

“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 f**k.

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.”