“You know, you’ve been extra crabby lately.” The sound of Richie’s voice told John that he was still facing him. John knew that if he turned around, he’d see Richie with one leg crossed over the other, his foot bouncing, an expression on his face that John had once dubbed The Untrained Psychologist.

“Is that so?” John was going to play dead in the hopes that Richie would get bored and stop poking at him.

“Yeah. I think you need to get laid.”

Undoubtedly. “That’s not the issue.” Yes, it was. It was absolutely the issue.

“Oh, so you admit there’s an issue?” Richie’s voice took on a predatory, victorious edge, and John, still facing away, pressed his fingertips to his forehead to smooth away the headache.

Damn it.

“Richie...”

“All right, how about just a night out, then? I won’t even try to get you laid. Just come out for a beer.”

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“You know, in the state of New York, it’s actually legal to drink beer on Wednesdays.”

John swiveled back around, his arms crossed. “If I agree to get a drink with you tonight, will you let me get some work done?”

Richie grinned, pushing his stylish, white-blond hair up off his forehead. “I won’t make a peep for the rest of the day.”

“I have court at three, so we better make it seven to be on the safe side.”

“Perfect.”

Finally, Richie swiveled to face his own computer, and John, with a sigh, dug back into his bag for his salad. If he was paying for a full-price beer tonight, street fries were out. He winced through a wet bite of lettuce, gritting his teeth as he listened to Richie chuckle at something else Mary had messaged him.

John groaned as he looked at his notes on Hang Nguyen’s case. He was old-school. He liked to get his thoughts organized with a pen in a spiral notebook. But his cramped chicken scratch had already filled half of one, and he was no closer to clearing this young woman’s name.

Seventeen and being tried as an adult. Three different solicitation misdemeanors slapped onto her list of charges. But the doozy, the reason her case had been assigned to a hard hitter like John, was the sex trafficking charge. This young woman faced up to twenty-five years in prison—thirty-five if the misdemeanors stuck.

John had to prove that the money she accepted from various men was not, as the state claimed, in exchange for sexual favors. And, most importantly, he had to adequately show reasonable doubt that the rides that Hang Nguyen had given to various other women various other times did not amount to sex trafficking. No matter the age of those other women and what they were compelled to do once they arrived at their destinations.