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buzzed, and the voice of the pilot blared overhead.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. We’ll be beginning our descent into Atlanta right on time.”
    Jordan smiled at her. “Well, at least we won’t have to run to catch our plane.”
    Jenna felt a sense of foreboding settle over her—like the unknown witness or the unasked question she didn’t know the answer to before she asked it—tragedy in the making.
    “He killed her, you know.” Jordan’s voice was soft, delicate, and almost vulnerable.
    “That can’t be true,” Jenna whispered, afraid to raise her voice, afraid of setting him off again. “I haven’t talked to Michael, but I’m sure it was an accident.”
    Jordan patted the hand clutching the armrest. “You’re smart, Jenna. If it was an accident, why is he having her buried so fast? What happened to the autopsy to prove it was an accident? And why did he need Michael there just to have her body flown back to Texas?” He paused, his words sinking in slowly, reinforcing her fears. “What do you think money and power can buy, Jenna?”
    Jenna shook her head, taking a deep breath. Damn it, they were all good questions, ones she had been asking herself. The next few minutes were crucial to her case and crucial to convincing him to behave.
    “They can’t cover up a murder,” she said with conviction, sure of her stance and sure of the verdict.
    “But they can buy a long prison sentence for your youngest son, who knows the truth of your crimes—a long sentence for what was clearly at most a misdemeanor,” Jordan said.
    “You stole a gun, Jordan, with the intent to kill.”
    Jordan smiled at her again. “I didn’t steal the gun. It wasn’t even loaded. So, if you had been prosecuting me, Jenna, would I have gotten twenty-five years for my crime?”
    Jenna blinked, the reality of his case settling over her. The gun wasn’t loaded? Twenty-five years. He had been nineteen, emotionally upset, no prior record; a member of a prominent family; a straight-A student in college; and a brilliant young man with a promising career ahead—two years with shock probation.
    “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand.
    “You’re not a good liar. So, if I could convince you he killed her, would you prosecute him?”
    Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, her mind picturing the end of her career, the public disgrace, the humiliation. She met his serious gaze, fixed on her face.
    He was watching her, analyzing and studying the play of emotions he saw there.
    The proof wouldn’t matter. No matter how brilliant a prosecutor she was, she would lose the case. Money and power together could buy anything. She swallowed again and closed her eyes. None of that really mattered. She’d become a prosecutor to take criminals off the street, to protect the innocent. She’d taken an oath, and no matter who the criminal or what the crime, she would uphold that.
    “Yes. I would prosecute him.”

CHAPTER NINE
    Jenna checked her phone and sighed—still no message from Michael. Also, if Jordan had used her phone while she was sleeping, he’d been careful to erase all evidence.
    The Atlanta airport was hopping with people heading one way or another, luggage tugged behind them as they hurried to catch the next flight. For some reason, that made her nervous. The more people around them, and the more time Jordan had on his hands, the greater the chance of something going wrong.
    “We’ve got twenty minutes before we board. Do you want to get a cup of coffee?” Jenna folded her jacket over the handcuffs to hide them. To the world, they would look like a couple walking hand-in-hand.
    She felt tension in Jordan and heard his sharp intake of breath just before a shot rang out. He grabbed her, shoved her to the floor, and covered her with his body.
    “Stay down.” He grunted, twisting around, eyes searching the crowd now screaming and darting for exits, open doorways,