Yes, Cade knew that. Which meant, per the Federal Rules of Evidence, none of this conversation would be admissible at trial should Torino decide not to plead guilty. He leveled his gaze on Torino, seeing the hospital CEO in a very different light now that he knew the man had spent half a million dollars buying off not one, but two members of the Illinois General Assembly. “A onetime mistake, huh?” he asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

Torino shrugged. “Figured I’d try the sob story first.”

Cade shook his head disgustedly as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his secretary.

“Can you book this conference room for me for the next hour?” he asked Demi. “I’m going to need more time than I’d anticipated. And get a hold of Greg Boran from the Federal Defender’s Office and let him know that I’ll have to push back our call to later this afternoon.”

After thanking Demi, he hung up and faced off against Torino and his lawyers.

“Does that mean we’re going to talk?” Lockhart asked.

“No.” Cade tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his suit jacket, and then retook his seat at the conference table. “But it means that I’m at least willing to listen.”

* * *

“I’LL GIVE THE guy this: he’d covered his bases with both branches of the Illinois General Assembly.”

Cade sat across from his boss, U.S. Attorney Cameron Lynde, and relayed the information he’d gleaned during his two-hour meeting with Torino. “He had Senator Sanderson in one pocket, and as we learned today, Representative Bill Fleiss in the other. Together, Torino paid them roughly five hundred thousand dollars in bribes. Of course, he’ll tell you that this was all for the public good. He claims that because Parkpoint Hospital serves one of the lowest-income neighborhoods in Chicago, he was just doing what he needed to do to ensure that, quote “poor people had access to quality health care, too.’”

Sitting behind her desk, Cameron didn’t look impressed with that excuse. “He’s a regular Robin Hood out there in his four-million-dollar home.”

Cade wasn’t surprised by her sardonic tone. When Cameron had come on board nearly two years ago as the U.S. attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, she’d made it clear that she considered government corruption cases to be one of her top priorities. While likable and down-to-earth in person—characteristics Cade certainly appreciated in a boss—Cameron had earned a professional reputation of being tough as nails when it came to crooked politicians. As a result, she was well respected both inside and outside the office, and had quickly become a powerful woman within the Department of Justice.

“What are your thoughts on moving forward?” she asked.

Cade had been anticipating this question, and therefore had spent some time thinking it over before dropping by Cameron’s office to discuss these new developments regarding Torino.

“We obviously need to talk to the FBI about launching an investigation into Representative Fleiss. And, reluctantly, I think it’s in our best interests to cut a deal with Torino in exchange for getting his statements on the record.” He wasn’t pleased to see Torino get off with a lighter sentence, but sometimes that was how the game was played.

Still, he didn’t intend for the hospital CEO to get off scot-free. “I told Torino and his lawyers that I won’t drop the charge in the Sanderson case. I did say, however, that I would consider agreeing to petition the judge for a Rule Thirty-five reduction in light of Torino’s cooperation and ask for eighteen months’ incarceration in a minimum-security facility.”

Cameron mulled this over. “It’s sad, really. Torino served as chairman on two of the most powerful hospital lobbying organizations in Illinois. He could’ve used that influence for so much good instead of resorting to bribery.”

“Even if we don’t agree to the reduced sentence, Torino likely won’t get more than four years,” Cade said. “It’s his first offense, and his lawyers can point to all the supposed good he’s done in the community. This way, at least we get Representative Fleiss, too.”

Cameron toyed with a pen, taking her time to think through the options. She sighed. “As much as it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, I agree. Make the deal.”

Cade gave her a nod. “Done.”

Cameron leaned back in her chair, studying him. “You’re making quite a name for yourself with these corruption cases. People are going to be watching you with even more interest.”

“Good. At least it gives them something to focus on besides the damn Twitter Terrorist case.”

Cameron laughed at the reference to the infamous computer hacking case, one that Cade had been assigned while working under Cameron’s predecessor. It was something of an inside joke between them, a reference to the days when they’d been AUSAs in the special prosecutions division together, working for an egomaniac boss who’d turned out to be corrupt himself. Thankfully for Cade and everyone else in the office, things were much better now that Cameron was running the show.

“I think you’ve given people plenty to be interested in besides the Twitter Terrorist case,” Cameron said. “Speaking of which, I’m glad you stopped by today. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She folded her hands on top of her basketball-sized stomach, using it as a shelf. “Assuming all goes according to plan, Baby Boy Pallas will be here in about eight weeks. Which is a good thing—if it went much longer than that, I think Jack and I would be blacklisted at every baby store in the Chicago area.”

Cade chuckled. To say that Cameron’s husband, FBI Special Agent Jack Pallas, was a bit protective of his pregnant wife and unborn child would be an understatement. “What did Jack do now?”

“In addition to returning our third baby monitor in a row for having ‘questionable security controls,’ this weekend he interrogated the guys who delivered the baby furniture for forty-five minutes on their ‘training and special skills in the crib-installation arena.’”

Cade laughed at the image. He’d seen Pallas’s interrogation face—it wasn’t for the faint of heart. “Did they pass?”

Cameron shook her head. “Nope. So now I’ve got a box the size of a refrigerator sitting in the baby’s room instead of a crib. Jack asked Nick and Sam to come over this weekend,” she said, referring to two other FBI agents in the Chicago office. “Apparently, they’re going to put it together themselves.”

“What do McCall and Wilkins know about putting a crib together?”

“Exactly.” Despite Cameron’s wry tone, there was an unmistakable sparkle of happiness in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve told the attorney general that I plan to take three months off for maternity leave, and we’ve agreed that the logical course is to name an acting U.S. attorney while I’m gone. The smoothest transition would be to temporarily promote someone from within the office, so the attorney general asked for my top recommendation. Which means . . .” she paused, with a sly expression, “that if you’re interested, the position of acting U.S. attorney is yours.”

Cade blinked. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Cameron said. “You’ve earned it. You’re an excellent trial lawyer, and we have the same agenda in terms of cleaning up Illinois politics. I’m happy—and, candidly, relieved—to know that you’ll be holding down the fort while I’m gone.” She pointed, her gaze firm. “But it’s just for three months, Morgan. I will be back.”

“Understood. I promise not to burn the place down in your absence.”

“I appreciate that. And I wasn’t being flippant when I said that people are watching. You’ve come up in more than one conversation between the attorney general and myself. I have a feeling this acting U.S. attorney position is going to open a lot of doors for you.”

Cade worked hard as a prosecutor and enjoyed his job, but there was no denying that he’d begun to think about the next step in his career. Most AUSAs stayed on for ten years or less, with the majority going to lucrative positions at large firms afterward. Based on the assumption that he would want to continue on as a trial lawyer after leaving the U.S. Attorney’s Office, he’d already put out feelers with two top-tier Chicago firms who’d expressed interest in bringing him on to lead their white-collar crime practices.

But, no doubt, this acting U.S. attorney position opened up even more opportunities. Assuming he didn’t screw up the job—which was a safe assumption since he planned to kick ass for those three months—this could very well be a springboard to higher-level political positions should he choose to continue on in the public sector.

He and Cameron began to discuss the logistics of the transition, and agreed that he would begin sitting in on status meetings with the AUSAs who were handling more complex cases, as well as meetings related to all new matters that came in over the next two months. Cameron also suggested setting up meetings with the heads of the Chicago branches of the FBI, DEA, Secret Service, ATF, and IRS to give him an overview of the open investigations their office was working on with each agency.

“When do you plan to tell the others?” he asked at the end of their meeting.

“Soon. I know people have been curious about what’s going to happen after I have the baby.” She placed one hand affectionately on her stomach. “Actually, I’m a little curious about that myself.”

“You know there’s a pool going around the FBI office, right? First person to get a photo of Jack wearing one of those baby-carrier things wins.”

Cameron laughed at that—then paused. “What’s the pool up to?”

“Last I heard it was five hundred bucks.”

“Hell, I want in.”

On his way out the door, Cade thanked Cameron again. “One thing. Do you mind if I tell Rylann before you make an announcement to the office?” He had a feeling he’d be seeing the other AUSA, who was finally back in the office after a two-week trial and weeklong vacation, in a short while for their daily Starbucks run. He preferred that she heard the news about the acting U.S. attorney position from him directly.

Cameron nodded in understanding. “Of course.”

* * *

WHEN HE GOT back to his office, Cade shut his door behind him, sat down at his desk, and soaked it in.

Acting U.S. Attorney Cade Morgan.

That had a real nice ring to it.

Deciding that a celebration was in order that evening, he scrolled through his options. There was Vaughn, of course—there was always Vaughn. And Huxley, too. He quickly ruled out any of his AUSA friends. Many of them were ambitious, like him, and he didn’t want to rub this promotion, even if temporary, in their faces.

So Vaughn and Huxley it was.

Unless . . .

Perhaps a text message to Ms. Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants might be in order.

Admittedly, after that weird moment last Sunday, when he’d felt compelled to drop by her office with the Brooke Burger, he’d wanted to put some precautionary distance between them. Just . . . because.

But he was fine now. Back on his game. And if he wanted to celebrate this good news with a hot date, he saw no problem with that.

With that in mind, he pulled out his phone and texted Brooke. He infused a little flirtation in his opening salvo, just to feel her out. YOU NEVER THANKED ME FOR THE BURGER. INGRATE.

He checked his work e-mail and fired off a few quick replies. About ten minutes later, he got a text message from Brooke.

SOMEBODY WOULD’VE BEEN THANKED IN PERSON, IF HE HADN’T STORMED OUT OF MY OFFICE AS PART OF SOME CRANKY-MAN TIRADE.

He smiled while replying.

OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF MY HEART, I’LL LET YOU THANK ME IN PERSON OVER DINNER TONIGHT. GOT GOOD NEWS TODAY, NEED TO CELEBRATE.

JUST HOW GOOD IS THIS GOOD NEWS? she wrote back.

Cade thought about that. ON A SCALE OF MEH TO HOLY-SHIT-I-JUST-WON-THE-ROSE-BOWL, I’D SAY THIS COMES IN AT REALLY DAMN COOL.

A minute later, his cell phone rang.

“I was typing out my reply and realized it would be faster just to call,” Brooke said when he picked up. “I’m intrigued by this ‘really damn cool’ news of yours.” Her voice turned contrite. “But unfortunately, I can’t do dinner tonight. I’m being wined and dined by the outside counsel we hired to assist with our EEO training sessions last week. Presumably, they intend to use this as an opportunity to hit me up for more business.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Cade. Of course, I would be stuck working.”