“I want to speak to Greg.”
“I don’t—” He pursed his lips. “Why?”
“I need to try something. Before his turn to testify tomorrow.”
Soon, it would be my turn to testify against Greg. I still had that trump card over him, but I doubted that would make him change. He was too na?ve to understand what life in prison would do to him. He was too used to being the spoiled little rich boy and given everything he wanted.
He believed he was untouchable.
I didn’t have the time or power to show him otherwise, but I could dangle a carrot he valued more than his own life to change his mind about Penn.
“What are you thinking?” Larry’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tamper with things you don’t understand, Elle.”
In the past few months of working late and getting to know Larry, I had great affection for this man who had saved Penn. Who had given him money, a home, kindness, a family. A true benefactor in every sense of the word—offering security after a lifetime of none.
But he was also nosy, and I didn’t have time to satisfy that curiosity.
“Can you do it or not?”
He shrugged. “I can’t promise anything. He’s probably been transferred back to corrections.”
“Can you try?”
He frowned but nodded. “I’ll do my best.” Gripping my hand, he squeezed kindly then marched back into the courthouse.
*
“Greg?”
I clutched the phone tight.
Larry hadn’t been able to work his magic and get me a face-to-face meeting, but he had managed a two-minute phone call.
No more.
No less.
I had one hundred and twenty seconds to make Greg an offer he couldn’t refuse. And do it in a way that didn’t sound like bribery, blackmail, or any other illegal action that could end up with me taking his place in lock-up.
I didn’t care it would be recorded.
I didn’t care it could backfire if they decided to pull the records and use it against me.
Penn’s life was on me. I would do anything I could to save it. Did that make me stupid? Most likely. Did that make me reckless? Most definitely.
But I was done playing nice, and Greg endangered everything I held as priceless.
“Elle?” Greg snapped. “What the hell do you want?”
I didn’t waste time. “Tell the truth.”
I wanted to barter with him. To say if he dropped his statement, I’d drop mine. That I wouldn’t press charges because I didn’t care about justice for me, just freedom for Penn.
But I couldn’t—not on the phone.
Every word was a damn minefield. “Tell the truth, Greg, and I’ll change your life.”
A long pause then he finally bit. “How? How can you change my life?”
“I’ll give you fifteen million. I’ll put it into an account that will earn interest until you’re released. You’ll never have to work again.”
“Is this some sort of joke?”
“No joke.” My fingers turned white around the phone. “All you have to do is tell the truth.”
Retract that Penn was trying to kill you. Stop saying I loved you. Be a man for once in your damn life.
“Be honest, Greg. And I’ll send you the bank account number the moment court is adjourned.”
My heart raced, bucking for his reply.
Finally, the words I feared I’d never hear came back.
“Twenty and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Deal.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Penn
GREG TOOK THE stand the next day, his gaze glaring into mine.
Freedom practically slapped me on the back and said ‘see ya later, buddy.’
The way he licked his lips—rubbing his jaw with deliberate poise as if he couldn’t wait to get my ass thrown into jail where I’d never see Elle again.
His lawyer stalked in front of him like a rickety stick insect, her red lips barely moving as she asked him clipped questions.
“Did you love Ms. Charlston?”
“Did you have a happy childhood growing up together?”
“Did you get along with her father?”
“Did you kidnap and rape with the intention of forced marriage and company takeover?”
Such generic, everyday questions...apart from the last one.
Greg delivered his answers in fluid, concise ways.
I had to hand it to him. He sounded sane and came across as any hard working individual and not a greed-hungry psychopath.
“Yes, I did. Still do.”
“Yes, we did many things together. Picnics, bike rides, you name it.”
“Of course, Joe Charlston and I go way back.”
“No, I did not. That wasn’t my intention at all.”
Time ticked onward. Jurors yawned a little.
Elle’s eyes seared me from behind, and Larry didn’t move in his chair.
The courtroom had turned from an explosive kettle yesterday to a stagnant pressure cooker today.
Tension gathered the longer Greg blah-blahed on the stand. I felt sick just waiting for that one question. That simple phrase guaranteed to launch him into a tirade destined to send me to hell. ‘Did Penn Everett try to kill you?’
I thought I wanted to get this farce over with. But being this close to a guilty verdict—again for something I didn’t do—turned my heart to icy stone, trying to protect itself before the inevitable happened.
Already my ears rang with the jurors’ conclusions.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
I froze with visions of the judge bringing his fist down with a life sentence without parole.
Sweat trickled down my back the longer Greg and his lawyer enjoyed their question-answer dance.
And then, the question arrived, blaring like a freight train, smoking with authority ready to steal any happiness I might’ve earned.
His red-lipped lawyer muttered, “And do you, Greg Hobson, stand by your statement that Penn Everett went to that cabin to kill you? That you had reason to believe he’d plotted your murder and intended to carry it out?”
Greg glanced at me then Larry. His eyes flew behind me, no doubt looking at Elle.
The sound of fabric shifting on seats itched my ears. The entire courtroom didn’t breathe.
I desperately wanted to turn around, to grab Elle’s hand and thank her for everything she did and apologize that it wasn’t enough. That my past had ruined everything anyway.
But I couldn’t tear my eyes off Greg. Some masochist part of me needed to sear this moment into my brain forever. I’d use it as fuel in any prison brawls I had to win. I’d punch and punch and punch some asshole and pretend it was Greg.
I almost stood up and held my hands out for the cuffs, tasting the inevitable.
But something fucking miraculous happened.
Greg leaned back, shrugging like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You know what? I’ve had time to reflect on what happened that night, and I think I might have got it wrong.”
Fucking what?