Punch Sean and Arnold would have exactly what he’d wanted since the beginning.
A reason to crucify me.
No, as satisfying as it would be to waste my life on one measly face smash, I had bigger plans.
Someone had to pay.
Somehow, the law had to work.
Otherwise, what sort of fucked-up society did we live in?
* * * * *
“Hello, Penn.”
I scowled, shaking the hand of some old geezer with a canvas jacket slung over a shirt with a cravat and linen pants.
I’d never met him before in my life. “Who the hell are you?”
He grinned as we squeezed palms then separated. Motioning toward the metal table and chairs in a private room (not the welcome hall where normal inmates saw their loved ones), he sat first, waiting for me to join him.
“My name is Larry Barns. I’m your new attorney.”
What the fuck?
“I hate to tell ya, but you’re about six months too late.” I waved around the space. “Look around.”
Larry smirked as if he had a secret, pointing once again to the chair. “Please. Sit.”
I paused for a second, weighing pros and cons, deliberating about being a dick or decent.
Ah, whatever...I have nowhere else to be.
The book would still be there. I was the only one who read them apart from Henry who got released last week.
The guy linked his fingers over a file with my name scribbled on the top.
Penn Michael Everett.
The only thing linking me to my dead father, Michael Everett. My mom died having me, and for twelve awesome years, Dad did his best to care for me, work, pretend to be normal, and hide the depression eating holes inside him.
In the end, the depression didn’t kill him. It was the testicular cancer that he hadn’t checked and never said a word about until I found him dead in bed one day.
Child Protective Services stepped in, and the same sob story that happened to most orphans began. I got shuttled around—different schools, different families—until one day, I never went back.
I vanished into the streets of New York and became an adult rather than a burden on people who didn’t want me.
“I’ve been doing a case study on inmates here. Studying how long between arrest to jury hearings and paroles.” Mr. Barns opened my file. “I noticed you haven’t been granted the same courtesies as other inmates. Do you want to talk about that?”
I crossed my arms. “Nope.”
The beating I’d received still acted as super glue on Arnie's secrets. I hated that asshole with my entire being. But I hated his son even more—the son I conveniently looked like, who shared my height and build, so I was the perfect fall boy for his crimes.
Captain Daddy Dearest couldn’t have a criminal for a son, now could he? So he’d used his power to shift that blame onto me and keep good ole’ Sean squeaky clean.
“You know, I’m not like a normal lawyer.” Larry slid me an icy can of Coke that he must’ve grabbed from a vending machine outside.
Part of me didn’t want to take it as I didn’t want to owe him a dime, but then again, it had been so long since I’d tasted pure sugar.
Snatching it, I cracked open the drink and swigged.
Tart bubbles hit my tongue.
Christ, that tastes good.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I muttered, “Don’t care if you’re not a normal lawyer or not. Not gonna change the facts.”
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, about that. It’s the facts that interest me.” He lowered his voice. “There are discrepancies in your file that I want to know more about.”
My heart pounded as I glanced at the camera in the ceiling corner. Was this a trap? A test? Was Arnold watching me, waiting for me to slip up?
Wouldn’t fucking happen.
I bared my teeth. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.”
I stood. “Back off. Leave me alone.”
He reclined in his chair, holding up his hands. “I’m not trying to make this harder for you.”
“Well, you are, so beat it.”
Larry slowly closed the file and matched me standing. His eyes were soft, kind, but sharp with intelligence. “You know, I represent another man who refuses to say anything, too.” His head tilted. “You wouldn’t happen to know a boy named Stewart Steel, would you?”
My knees locked. Violence filtered through me to protect Gio’s little brother.
What the fuck happened to Gio?
Why is this guy representing Stewie?
He was just a kid. He couldn’t be charged with shit like this.
“Why?” I forced between gritted teeth. “What’s that got to do with me? Or you, for that matter?”
He smiled, knowing he’d hooked me.
Bastard.
“I’m representing his older brother. Turns out, Gio Steel was picked up for arson while trying to cover up a robbery. Stewart helped start the fire. It’s a shame really because that kid is impressionable, and I don’t want him to end up where you are.”
You and me both.
“Tell you what.” He clapped his hands. “I’ll tell you everything I know in return for you telling me everything you know. Off the record, of course. Complete confidentiality. Tell me why Gio told me to talk to you. Why he seems to think there’s some conspiracy going on and why he’s begging me to take care of Stewie until you’re released, so you can take care of him yourself. Help me help you, Mr. Everett, and we’ll see where this road takes us.”
“Why should I trust you?”
His eyes turned sad, serious, utterly honest. “Who else do you have?”
He had a point.
I hated it, but I made a choice.
I sold my soul for the truth.
I nodded at the stranger and accepted whatever mayhem he’d bring into my life.
Either the truth would kill me or the lies would suffocate me.
I’d die and there wouldn’t be any fucking difference.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elle
“MS. CHARLSTON IS here to see Greg Hobson.” David eyed the police officer standing guard outside the hospital room we’d been advised to visit.
The entire drive here, I’d suffered David’s disapproval. His posture said how stupid he thought I was being. My inner voice told me how stupid I was being. But all I could think about was wringing Greg’s puny neck.
Parking and walking inside with me, David kept his mouth shut. Heading up in the elevator to the fourth floor, his opinions wafted full of frustration that he couldn’t knock sense into me.
I’d watch what I said to Greg.
I’d be careful not to be overheard.
But if I didn’t do this—after three years of not doing anything last time—I would literally have to smash every mirror in my apartment because I could never look at myself again.
As we stood in the linoleum-lifeless hallway, David pursed his lips, glancing at me quickly. That was the difference between a friend and employee. David was my friend, but he was ultimately my staff, and what I wanted...I got.
Just like I’ll get what I want from Greg.
Because there was no other option. I couldn’t fail.
I kept my hands folded in front of my black slacks and cream shirt, going for a somber uniform with my long hair curled in a knot at the base of my skull. It made me look older, stricter...cutthroat.
I wanted Greg to fear me.
I wanted him to quake knowing what he’d done and how hard I’d go after him to teach him a lesson.
The police officer stood from his plastic chair, hoisting up his utility belt. “I wasn’t told—”
“You will. Expect a call any second.” David smiled just as the officer’s walkie-talkie crackled and a female voice alerted him to a visitor arriving at any moment and to clear access.
“That would be me.” I nodded at the guard, moving to peer through the g
lass window of the door.
The officer stepped aside and then there he was.
The man I no longer understood or knew. The man who held the life of another in his rotten little paws.
“Five minutes,” the officer said, dragging a hand through his short blond hair.
“Five minutes is all I need.” Turning the doorknob, I looked back at David.
He ground his teeth, his head slightly cocked. “I’d ask if you wanted me to join you. But I think I already know the answer.”
“You do.” I patted his arm. “I want to be alone with him.”
He scowled but accepted it. “Scream if you need me.”
I laughed under my breath. “Got it.”
Inhaling deep, I pushed the door and traded the sharp smell of disinfectant and giggles of nurses for the more subtle smell of a man I’d grown up with hidden beneath medicine and bleach.
Sudden gratefulness filled me. The last time I was in the hospital was to stay vigil at my father’s bedside while he recovered from his heart attack. We’d walked out together, and I wouldn’t be here today visiting Greg if it wasn’t for him.
I’d called the police station and asked for a meeting but had been laughed off the phone.
I’d asked Larry to arrange it—believing he’d have contacts that would make it easy—but he had no jurisdiction over a felon who wasn’t his client.
That left me near tears and furious when Dad walked in to bid me goodnight. I’d spilled my frustrations, and he’d mentioned he’d ask one of his friends to see if he could help.
Up until this morning, I had no hope that anything would come of it.
But the minute I walked wearily into my office, Dad had announced I had a meeting arranged thanks to Patrick Blake.
I hadn’t managed to spend much time with Dad since my reassurance and the many hugs after my abduction, but I squeezed him so damn hard when he gave me the news.
Apparently, Patrick Blake—fishing buddy and fellow golf enthusiast—was actually a judge.
Belle Elle hadn’t been free of its own lawsuits and court appearances over the last few decades and thankfully, Dad had befriended a few people along the way.
He fished with a high judge. He played golf with a district attorney. He had friends who had held his hand while grabby people tried to sue for ridiculous things like incorrect sizes offending their snowflake personalities.
He hadn’t once asked for favoritism or help fighting such claims. But for me, he’d requested approval and managed to give me the five minutes I needed to try and save Penn’s life.
Not that I told him it was for Penn.
He would’ve said no.
He’d approved of Penn before this nightmare, and I hoped he’d stand by him while incorrectly incarcerated for something as noble as saving me. However, what he wouldn’t approve of was Penn’s prior convictions or his unsavory background.
He was a good man, my father, but a snob through and through. Only the best of the best could marry his daughter and run Belle Elle. Which was hypocritical when he put so much energy into getting me together with Greg, only for him to be the worst of all.
Greg opened his eyes as I shut the door with a harsh slap, getting his attention.
“Shit...Elle?” He sat higher in bed, shuffling against the mountain of white pillows, his skin rosy with health not white with sickness. “Came to visit. You love me after all, huh?”
His smirk made me rage.
I hated that he was here being pampered while Penn was in jail going through who knew what.
My hands curled, holding back my temper. “Shut up, Greg.”
His forehead furrowed. For a moment, it looked like he’d retaliate and a small frisson of fear bolted into my legs remembering how it felt to be washed unwanted by him. To be naked in front of him. Cook for him. Such normal things but it left a terrible taste in my mouth that could never be washed away by mint toothpaste.
He’s a creep. Nothing more.
Stalking toward the bed in my high black heels, I stopped close enough to glower but far enough not to touch.
My eyes fell on his wrist on top of the starched sheets. A silver handcuff attached him to the steel frame of the bed.
That was karma. A few days ago, I was the one in cuffs. Now, he had the joy.
I smiled before I could school myself to be cold and aloof. “I see it’s your turn to be imprisoned.”
He bared his teeth. “It won’t stick. I’ll get a good lawyer. I’ll—”
I held up my hand. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any more of your delusions, Greg.” Before he could launch into another tirade, I said, “I’m here for one thing and one thing only.”
His eyebrow rose, his body relaxing into a flirt. “Oh, yeah?” His gaze traveled over me. “Come to finish what we started?”
I hid my shudder. He wasn’t worth my retaliation. “Withdraw your statement about Penn.”
“What?” His green eyes flashed with surprise then darkened with anger. “No way. Look what that bastard did to me.” He raised an arm, showing a few bruises. “He fucking broke me.”
“I see nothing but a spoiled brat milking a stay in the hospital before he goes to jail.”
He froze. “I’m not going to jail, Elle.”
“I say otherwise.”
The metal handcuff jingled on the bed frame as he shifted again—uncertain but still trying to dominate the situation. “He broke my ribs and bruised my throat. I’ve had a headache since—”
“Oh, spare me, Greg.” I waved a hand at his prone body. “All I see is a boy who never grew up. You’re an adult. You have to take responsibility for the things you’ve done and the people you’ve hurt.”
Moving closer toward the bed, I growled, “I won’t ask again. Revoke your statement about Penn. Drop the charges.”
“Why the fuck would I?”
“Why?” I bared my teeth. “Because you kidnapped me, tried to rape me, and attempted to steal my company. Yet here I am being civil to you, asking you politely to be the bigger man and let Penn go.”
His face turned nasty. “He’s not going anywhere.”
My skin crawled, fighting quicksand—a losing battle. Why did I think I could come here and negotiate with Greg like he was a sane, logical thinking adult?
He wasn’t. He had a screw loose or ten.
Fine, you leave me no choice.
Looking over my shoulder at the door, I moved closer. Close enough that he could touch me if he wanted but close enough to hurt him if I did. “Drop the charges.”
“Fuck off, Elle. If I can’t have you, no one can—including that asshole.”
I didn’t respond, focusing on my task. “Drop the charges or else.” My voice mimicked a general giving the orders on a firing line.
“Or else?” He laughed. “Who are you trying to be? A CEO who actually has the balls to threaten?”
“I’m being myself. And I do have the balls to threaten.” I held up my finger. “I will ruin you—”
The door cracked open, followed by David’s command, “Ms. Charlston, step back. You have two minutes remaining, according to our friend out here.”
“Close the door, David.” I didn’t look away from Greg. “I know what I’m doing.”
He knew better than to argue with me in public. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone once again.
I’d tried to do this kindly, but Greg was an asshole and left me no choice. “Drop the charges against Penn. Tell them you mistook everything that’d happened and no longer want to follow through with your statement.”
“No way. They’ll prosecute me for lying.” His mouth twisted, knowing he’d just slipped into truth. The sticky substance had a way of coming to light beneath the slickness of lies. “Besides, I’m hurt. He hurt me. Bastard will get what’s coming.”
I breathed hard through my nose, doing my best to stay calm despite the overwhelming need to wrap the IV cord around his neck and strangle him. “Don’t care. Be honest fo
r once in your miserable life and accept whatever punishment is coming your way. Or...”
He still didn’t look afraid, merely entertained—waiting to see what I would do. “Or?”
“Or I march back to the police station, and I tell them in graphic detail how you raped me. How you took advantage of me against my will. How after multiple times of hurting me, you planned to kill me.”
He instantly froze, filling with doubt. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“They’d prosecute you for filing a false report.”
I shrugged. “If it’s the price to pay to free a man who shouldn’t be in jail, then consider it done. I would do it because he’s right and you’re wrong and I’m sick of not standing up for the truth.”
“But that’s a lie! You’re insane. Why would you fucking do that?”
I shook my head, unable to believe he had no concept of loyalty or love. Did he even love his father like a normal son? Or was his selfishness a commanding passenger, making him only think of himself?
Time was running out.
Taking the final step toward the bed, I hissed, “So help me, Greg. I’ll turn the kidnapping and Belle Elle takeover into a rape and attempted murder. I’ll hire every lawyer I can and pay them to bury you in a life sentence. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re never a free man again.” I glared with hooded eyes. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll push for the death penalty.”
He gulped. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” I raised an eyebrow. “I tried to be nice to you, Greg. If you want me to play hardball, I will.”
“You weren’t even with that fucker.” The handcuff screeched on the bed frame as he wriggled with anxiety. “It was a fake engagement. Why the hell are you—”
“Because he’s worth it. He’s decent.”
“He’s a liar.”
“Not anymore.”
Greg snarled, “You’re completely batshit—”
The door opened; the police officer entered the room. “Ma’am, your time is up. I have to ask you to leave.”
I looked over my shoulder, smiling demurely. “It’s fine. I’m finished.” My smile turned into a knife when I glanced back at Greg. “Yes or no. Tell me right now. Will you do what I asked?”
He pouted, yanking his arm, making the handcuff jangle once again. He wouldn’t make eye contact, glowering at the drip, the heart rate monitor—everything but me.
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