CONVICTED

by Pelton, Kristi

  Table of Contents

  Convicted

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Titles By Kristi Pelton

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place and incidents either are products of the author’s magical imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental—unless you’re a mean character in the book and then it’s directed at someone ☺

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/published contest, this book has been pirated. Though I hope you like it, please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook/book from one of its distributors.

  Editor: Lisa Loewen

  Cover Photo: Furious Fotog

  Cover Model: Chase Ketron

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Formatting: CP Smith

  Proof Readers: Amber, Lisa, Tera, Jamie, Lindsay

  Chapter 1

  Under Arrest

  Joss

  EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR a reason. Or so they say. I wasn’t sure of the reasons most things happened to me. Maybe someday I’d look back and it would all make sense. God and I certainly had a bone to pick. That was one fight I wouldn’t win. But when it came to Abby, He and I were going head to head…

  _______________

  Chocolate ice cream dribbled off the sugar cone and ran down onto my fingers like little rivers of chocolate milk. If I ate it slow enough, Abby would end up eating mine too. I grinned at the thought. I wasn’t even a fan of ice cream, but she loved it, and that’s all that mattered to me.

  “Thank you,” she said, brushing my cheek with a wet, sticky kiss.

  The goofy ass grin I shot her way was almost embarrassing.

  “Dinner was delicious too. I’m so lucky,” she said, resting her little, bare feet on the dash. Her bright red toenails lit the dash like Christmas lights. Lucky? She’d been dealt the shittiest of hands.

  “Abby, I’m the lucky one,” I said watching her devour her sugar cone.

  That was truth. I was the lucky one. Abby Whitman had been my best friend for years. I was too scared to screw up what we had even when she wanted more. But, when she got sick, I wanted to give her the world on a silver platter. Everything I had done over the past four months had been out of guilt, and I wished we’d become a “we” sooner. I wasn’t the sort of guy parents welcomed into their home. I knew that. None of us Hess brothers were. Her parents were fine with me as long as she and I were just friends, but my guess was they didn’t want her every life experience to be with me. And, well, we had a lot to cram in.

  She reached for my ice cream cone as she crunched the bottom of hers. “You eat ice cream so slow.”

  I shrugged. If she only knew. I licked the stickiness off my fingers as I pulled into the parking lot. Movies weren’t really my thing, but Abby loved them. Especially romantic, sappy movies where she usually cried. Every dime I’d earned on the grounds crew for little league was being spent on her. I’d picked her up late, so we were catching the late show.

  “Hi, Joss,” two girls sang in unison as Abby and I walked into the theater where our movie played. The two beauties smiled flirting with their eyes.

  I threw them a tightlipped smile as I clung to Abby’s hand. She tossed the rest of the ice-cream cone into the trash. I braced myself.

  “Why do they do that when I’m with you?”

  “Abs, they’re just sayin’ hi.”

  She plopped down in the cushiony seat, pouting. “Joss. You know it’s more than that. Um, voted hottest in your class for a reason. It’s more than hi.”

  My arm snaked around her shoulders. “Three years ago. That doesn’t matter to me. You know that. You matter.”

  Hottest? What a joke. Poorest—yes. Trashiest—yes. Fittest—yes. There wasn’t much I could offer her outside of my body. Keeping fit was one of those things I could control. And, my time. I’d give her the gift of time, my last minute.

  When she rested her head on my shoulder, her thinning blond hair fell into my face, and my insides smiled. My outsides never smiled much. So many of her insecurities would go away once she graduated from high school. Four more months. I’d been out for almost three years, but Abby was still wrapped up in it all. Oh, how I wished she knew what was really important.

  “Tell me you love me?” she whispered.

  “You know I love you.”

  Her hand brushed down the five-day whiskers on my chin that she refused to let me shave. I closed my eyes, relishing her touch.

  “Can I spend the night with you tonight?”

  A growl low in my chest warned her.

  “Why not?”

  My father was an abusive drunk, that’s why. “My dad will be there, Abs. No.”

  “So, I can sneak in your window and I can tell my parents I’m staying at Ashley’s.”

  The lights dimmed in the theater.

  “No, Abs.”

  “You never want to go to your place. I want to have sex with you and not in your truck either.”

  “Truck sex is so good though,” I chuckled, nudging her.

  She smacked my arm. “Fine. You can take care of me in the truck,” she pouted.

  To me, that was a win. Pleasing her was my life mission. The discussion ended when the previews started.

  College was never in the cards for me, but I was finishing my electrical apprenticeship while Abby went to school, which left me exhausted by nightfall. I had my entire life before me…she didn’t. Pleasure would find me in my years to come.

  The movie wasn’t bad, but my eyelids closed more than once. As the credits started to roll, I prayed I could talk about the plot with her. I never liked making her angry.

  Her body stiffened out into a stretch, and I swooped in and picked her up. Instinctively, her legs parted, wrapping around my waist. Other couples watched us, but we didn’t care. Abby was the first person I’d ever loved. She wouldn’t be the first person I’d lost, but losing her would destroy me. There was no way to prepare for the inevitable.

  “Joss.”

  “Yeah?” I asked as we walked to the truck. The night air was cooler.

  “Please, can we go to your house? Please.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Abs. We are almost to the truck. I’ll give you everything you ne
ed there.” A promise lingered in my tone.

  “Seriously, Joss. I want to be with you.”

  “Jesus, Abs. Not tonight.” My voiced raised more than intended. Dealing with my father was no joke.

  The only thing I didn’t like about the Whitman family—they’d spoiled their beautiful daughter to a fault. God, did I love her, but there was no way I would come out ahead tonight.

  She and I were like day and night. If it weren’t for her working the concession stand at the little league park, I’d never have met her.

  She slammed the truck door, jolting me out of that fun memory, and I slid the key in the ignition and turned toward her. She fastened her seat belt on the passenger side of the truck.

  “Abby. I’m sorry. OK?”

  Glass shattered, spraying shards across me as a gun barreled through the window opening. What the…

  “Get the fuck out!” the masked man shouted, jerking the truck door open.

  The force of his unexpected pull yanked me clean out of the truck. Abby’s shriek kept me in the moment as my body plummeted against the concrete. Within a matter of seconds, I stumbled to my feet, running toward her door. The screaming tires stayed in place as they spun, generating clouds of dark smoke before slowly gripping the concrete and taking off.

  “Abby! Jump out!!”

  My legs launched into motion, sprinting after the truck. Abby’s door flung open. Her fear-filled-wide eyes connected with mine only for a second.

  “Jump!”

  With bent knees, she jumped away from the truck, but like a bungee jolted back immediately. Her head slammed against the side of the truck as she dangled by her right arm. Jesus Christ, she was stuck in the seatbelt.

  “Joss!” she screamed as my shoes pounded the pavement faster than they ever had.

  “No!” I yelled as her legs dragged along the street. Both her sandals tumbled to a stop and lay in the wake of the truck.

  The gunman slowed enough to turn out of the parking lot, hurdling her body up and over a curb, causing the door to crash against her.

  “No. No. No.” I panted.

  Some man ran along side of the truck, trying to get the fucking piece of shit to stop, but instead of stopping, the truck veered off through a field. Abby’s limp body bounced with every bump and jolt of the truck. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a car slammed into the side of my truck, ramming the driver’s side door.

  A man shot out of the wrecked car, sprinting over to Abby’s side.

  “No!” I roared. “Don’t touch her!” I didn’t care if he was trying to help. He didn’t understand…she was already so sick. So weak.

  My heart slowly died as I reached her. The truck door held a good portion of her silky blonde hair. Blood and dirt were matted across her broken face. The toes I had admired on my dash earlier were battered and raw. With the utmost caution, I reached up to unhook her arm from the seatbelt just as the gun flew past me out the door.

  “Joss,” she whimpered. No one else would have known what she said. But I knew. People surrounded the truck.

  “Hold me,” she softly cried.

  “I’m here. I got you.”

  My blood-soaked hands brushed slowly down her cheek. When I saw his shoes scoot out of the truck, something inside of me snapped.

  From somewhere behind me, a man’s voice spoke into a phone, recounting what had happened. As if I needed to hear a play by play.

  When the asshole tried to step over Abby, I released her in time for my fist to meet his face before I dragged him away from her. Far away from her. I wouldn’t let him hurt her anymore. Ever again. Once we were a good distance away, he kicked at me. My foot powered down into his crotch, causing a low, agonizing wail. With no hesitation, I quickly straddled him, yanked his mask off and pounded my fist into his face time and time again. The force of flesh meeting flesh made a dull thumping sound. I’d heard that sound countless times before. Bones broke beneath my fists. His and mine. Sirens echoed somewhere in the distance.

  “Josh?” a man yelled, trying to pull me off. I shoved him away, my relentless pounding continued. “Dude. Your girlfriend is asking for you! She needs you,” he yelled.

  My head snapped toward the truck, and I raced to Abby’s side. Fuck. I’d left her.

  “Abby?” I said. “Please, baby, look at me. I’m here.”

  The sirens were on top of us and red and blue lights ricocheted off her face.

  “Abby…” I lifted her gently into my arms. I’d carry her to the ambulance. A slight whimper scraped up her throat.

  Police cars sped toward us, surrounding the area. I cast a glance back at the carjacker; the guy who had called me Josh stood next to him, pointing down at him.

  “Sir. What happened to her?”

  I stepped right up into the ambulance. “He drug her with the truck,” I whispered as I pointed at the man still on the ground.

  Against my will, the paramedics took Abby’s body from my arms laying her on the gurney.

  “How old is she?”

  It was difficult talking around the lump in my throat. “Seventeen,” I said, clearing my throat. “She has a tumor. In her brain. Cancer.” The seat beside her in the ambulance was too far away. But, it wasn’t until the back doors closed that a couple of tears found their way down my cheeks.

  _______________

  “Mister.”

  I opened my eyes to a little, curly haired girl poking my shoulder.

  “Mister, are you ok?”

  She pointed at my bloody, swollen hands.

  “Yeah. I’m ok.”

  Her pigtails swayed side to side as she sat back in her chair, making my thoughts sway to Abby. I stood, my body already stiff and sore from being thrown to the ground, and I left the waiting room.

  Abby’s parents had been here with her since we’d arrived about an hour ago. More family was on the way. I didn’t do family well.

  I wondered how mad they were that I hadn’t protected her better. Stepping away and giving them time with her alone was awful. Leaving her side was the most difficult thing I’d ever done.

  When I rounded the corner, people rushed in and out of her room. My heart plummeted as I forced one foot in front of the other. How long had I slept? A swallow wedged in my throat and wouldn’t go down.

  “No! No! Nooo!” a motherly, agonizing shriek echoed through the halls, shooting a dagger straight through my heart. I ran to the room, but a nurse’s palm stopped me from going in.

  A doctor stormed out of the room. “Call the police and tell them she died. We have a homicide.” He bent over the nurses’ station, burying his face in his hand before his fist slammed down. Slowly, his eyes lifted, meeting mine. Only a few hours ago, he had told me she had a brain injury and swelling was the biggest concern. Cerebral swelling, he called it. Her broken bones were secondary to the brain swelling.

  My brows pulled together as I shook my head, silently arguing reality with him. His pale lips pulled tightly into a frown.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head, confirming what I already knew. My Abby was gone. A surge of nausea overwhelmed me when I glanced into the room where Mr. Whitman sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, holding his wife, Abby’s mom. Her mouth hung open, but only silent wails seemed to make it out. Oddly, I heard nothing as nurses slipped quietly from the room. My eyes were drawn to Abby. Her head had been shaved along one side. An intubation tube was lodged in her mouth. The lifeless machines were quiet and indicative of the horrific mood in the room.

  “Abby…” I whispered. Though she wasn’t my girl anymore.

  The elevator blurred as I neared it…the little, red headed girl with pigtails stared at me through the glass of the waiting room. My hands trembled as I pushed the elevator button and then shoved my fists into my front jean pockets trying to control the emotion. The little girl smiled as I stepped on the elevator, meeting her stare once again. Nothing. I had nothing to give her as the doors closed.

  The entire walk thro
ugh the lobby—thoughts tortured me. If I had gotten off work earlier, we’d have gone to a different movie. If I just had let her come to my house, we wouldn’t have been fighting. We’d have gotten into the truck quicker. If I hadn’t picked her up in the movie, maybe we’d have gotten to the truck sooner. What if…

  By the time I reached the parking lot, it hit me that I didn’t have a truck to drive. Abby had been killed in the passenger seat of that truck. Without thinking, I kicked a metal trashcan, scattering trash everywhere. The can whirled into the street, spinning from the force of my kick. Before destroying something else, I fell to the ground and pounded out twenty pushups.

  My cellphone was dead. The theme of death encompassed everything. I’d texted Braxton earlier to tell him where I was, but not Pop. Six miles would give me plenty of time to process this nightmare, so, I started walking home. In my whole life, even after Mom walked out on us, I’d never felt so hopeless or alone. My future was a thousand-piece puzzle with no box. Everything I loved was gone. I had known I’d lose her eventually. But, I wasn’t even close to being ready.

  That last two miles the rain came down hard enough that I was soaked to the bone. The trailer was dark, but thunder rolled around me. Maybe that should have been warning enough.

  I don’t know if he heard me in the pouring rain or if he waited for the door to open; regardless, my father was in my face at once, reeking of stale liquor and dried piss. His bloodshot eyes filled with hate.

  “Where da fuck’a you been,” he slurred.

  “There was an accident, Pop. I’m sorry.”

  The power of his backhand wasn’t as forceful as usual. I was hours after my curfew. Twenty-one years old and still had a curfew. Braxton and I were going to get a place, get out of this dump. We just about had the money saved.

  “It wasn’t my fault.” The events of the evening crashed through my skull, flooding my eyes. Crying was the last thing he’d tolerate.

  His bottom lip jutted out in a full pout. “Is wittle Jossy gonna cry?” He started laughing, shooting out a spray of slobber.

  “I’m not crying, Pop. I’m drenched from the rain.”

  “Where’s the truck?”

  “I told you, there was an accident.”

  Bam! His fist came with more force.