nature. If he says something, he means it.”
“Hey, what about us?” Sam hollers from across the room. “We’re thirsty, too.”
Cooper shakes his head at his boyfriend. “Let me guess… a virgin strawberry daiquiri for Beth, and you want a beer.”
“You’re a mind reader, babe,” Sam says as he rises from the sofa and joins us. He walks behind the bar, slips his arm around Cooper’s waist, and winks at me.
Chapter 15
Tyler Jamison
Troy Spencer sits beside me with a legal notepad propped on his lap and a pen in his hand. He’s also recording our conversation on his phone. “Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what happened that night,” he says in a smooth, cultured voice.
Troy’s a polished professional. It’s Saturday night, and he’s wearing a suit and tie. This guy has represented more McIntyres in court than I can count—including bailing Shane out of jail after I arrested him for assaulting an officer—admittedly not cool on my part as I was the one who threw the first punch.
Troy prosecuted the asshole who terrorized Lia McIntyre by leaking a video of them having sex—it was her first time—broadcast for the whole world to see. It was a federal crime, as Lia was underage when the video was shot—it amounted to distributing child pornography.
He also represented Beth McIntyre in the case against Andrew Morton, the medical student who beat Beth unconscious in her office at the medical school library. He prosecuted Luciana Morelli, the bitter ex-girlfriend who tried to break up Shane and Beth right before their wedding.
Fortunately for me, Troy’s good at what he does.
Shane sits behind his desk, listening for the most part. Part of me feels like a delinquent teenager who’s been called to the principal’s office.
I hate rehashing that night, but I realize I don’t have a choice. Taking a deep breath, I launch into my recitation. “I walked into the restroom at Sapphires to find Brad Turner choking Ian. He had Ian pushed up against the wall, his fingers around Ian’s throat. Ian was turning all shades of red as he struggled to get a breath.”
Troy makes a note on his legal pad. “So, it was self-defense?”
“Yes,” I say, struggling to rein in my temper. “He was choking my boyfriend.”
Troy nods. “I get it. I’m sorry, Tyler, but we have to go over everything. We have to cover all angles.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Was anyone else in the bathroom at the time? Besides you, Turner, and Ian?”
“Yes. Ian’s friend Chris.”
He asks me a slew of additional questions, and I answer everything as precisely as I can.
I pulled Turner off Ian.
I beat the hell out of Turner.
Two security guards showed up and pulled me off him.
Yes, several witnesses in the hallway saw me beating Turner, but no one besides Chris saw Turner choking Ian. It’s our word against theirs.
Yes, Ian had bruises around his throat for days. Yes, we took pictures.
I level my gaze on Troy. “The bottom line is, the evidence is stacked against me. He has objective eyewitnesses and video. I have nothing, other than the pictures of Ian’s bruised throat.”
Troy writes something on his pad. “I see. Still, Ian is an eyewitness.”
I shake my head. “My primary goal is to protect Ian.”
Troy stops writing. “What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t want him testifying. I don’t want to put him through that.”
Shane speaks up for the first time. “Shouldn’t your aim be to stay out of prison?”
I shake my head. “Ian comes first. The prosecution will rip him to shreds, and I refuse to put him through that.”
“How does Ian feel about it?” Troy asks.
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t let him do it.”
Troy raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you think Ian should have a say in the matter?”
“No.”
Frowning, Troy says, “You won’t have a say in the matter if the prosecution calls him as a witness. And let’s face it, Tyler, Ian is the key witness.”
“He won’t have to testify if I plead guilty.”
Troy does a good job of hiding his surprise. “We don’t even know the charges yet, Tyler—in fact, we don’t know for sure that charges are forthcoming. Even if Turner files a complaint, the DA’s office may not take up the case. But if they do—and if they charge you with a felony, and you plead guilty, you’re looking at a mandatory prison sentence.”
“I know,” I say. I hate even thinking about what might happen. I stare out the window at a view of downtown Chicago. Darkness has fallen, and the city