I wanted to ask what he meant, but his head fell back as his entire stomach sculpted into granite. His muscles seized as the pulsing of his orgasm deep inside me echoed with his groan of release.
His knees buckled as endorphins drenched his body, making him lethargic and sated.
Dropping my legs from around his hips, he gently placed me on my feet, withdrawing from me, watching the vision of his cock sliding free for the last time.
Tears wobbled over my retinas, but I sniffed them back.
He tipped my head up, kissing me. “Promise me you won’t shower for the rest of the day. I need to know a part of me is still with you, even though I’ll be locked up in here.”
“Of course.” I threw my arms around him, hugging him so damn hard. “God, I hate this so, so much.”
He hugged me back, squeezing me until I couldn’t breathe. “I love you.”
And then the guard knocked on the door. “Ten minutes. Get ready to go.”
Penn let me go.
We dressed in silence.
We kissed goodbye in pain.
We separated in agony.
Letter from Penn
I DON’T KNOW how you knew, but you did.
You knew I needed a reminder on how to fight. You knew I needed to taste and touch you, not just talk to you across a fucking table.
The fact you knew that—that you managed to find a way for us to be together—proved I was right to fall for you.
You’re everything I want and everything I need.
Because of you, I feel strong again.
I won’t give up.
I won’t let those bastards win.
Tell Larry I’m ready to take him down. I’ll testify if he gathers the evidence. I’ll do whatever it damn well takes to get out of here and be with you.
Because one thing’s for sure, Elle—that night in the alley, I wanted to keep you.
After last night, I want to fucking marry you.
Letter from Elle
FROM FAKE ENGAGEMENT to prison letter proposal, your romance never fails to astound me.
I think you know I won’t argue this time. In fact, if you tried to walk away, I’d use everything at my disposal to convince you otherwise.
Your letter took a week to be delivered.
A week where I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how good it felt being together.
All my life, I’ve had privilege. I thought I never took it for granted, but I know now that I did. I’m grateful for the staff who do what I tell them. I’m thankful for the company that gives me power.
But none of that experience helps me help you.
I’m going out of my mind, needing to do something.
I spoke to Greg when I probably shouldn’t have. I told the press you were innocent when I should probably have kept my mouth shut.
You’re in there because of me, and I can’t help.
Do you know how helpless that makes me feel? So pointless. So useless.
Knowing I was able to remind you to keep fighting helps me keep fighting because missing you is the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done.
But it’s worth it.
Because that night in the alley, I needed you.
But after last week, I can’t imagine life without you.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Elle
I TOLD LARRY about Penn’s readiness to go after Arnold Twig.
I’d never seen someone go from already working manically hard to increasing his energy until it reached chaotic proportions. He was a salt and pepper whirlwind with vengeance on his mind.
It didn’t matter that he muttered about not being able to combine one trial with another—unless he could prove Arnold Twig’s corruption affected this arrest and not just prior ones. It didn’t matter that he mumbled about how tricky it would be to prove Penn’s innocence on all accounts and expunge his prior convictions.
He threw himself into the task as if he’d been waiting for Penn to give the go-ahead for years. Which, according to another distracted reply, he had.
I asked why he hadn’t gathered this evidence before so he’d be prepared for when Penn finally chose the right moment. He’d said evidence like this would poke the hornet’s nest. He wouldn’t be able to gather it without someone noticing, and when someone did, Arnold Twig would know.
It was risky to hunt for answers and prove Penn was innocent all while still in jail where Twig would bury him. But according to Larry, Twig had friends on the police force and a few corrupt district attorneys, but he hadn’t been able to bribe the head warden yet, so technically, Penn was as safe as he could be.
We just had to hope that the judge who would preside over the case wasn’t bought and paid for.
Life—as much as I hated it—had to continue without Penn.
Ever since our night together, it had become harder and easier in equal measure. Harder because I missed him so much my bones ached with it. He’d injected himself into my veins with no promise of another hit. And easier because by giving him strength, it gave me strength. I didn’t do anything reckless like try to have Greg murdered or go on some silly TV program with conspiracy theories.
I kept my eyes locked on the future—on a trial that would eventually have to move forward, despite lost paperwork, internal delays, and every other excuse they’d given us up until now about why Penn hadn’t been granted a trial date.
Despite having no date to fight toward, Penn and I wrote often. We got to know each through ink and paper rather than voice and language. I found out he had a sense of humor hidden beneath his suspicious outlook on the world. That he could be self-deprecating behind his surly attitude.
That sickly feeling I’d had after his lies unraveled was gone now. With every note, every phone call, every snatched meeting with prison guards and escorts, my heart increased with shots of helium, slowly floating, becoming weightless until it bounced on a string tied to my ribs.
The three-year-old lust I had for him as Nameless and the four-month-old attraction I had for Penn finally merged. The infatuation I had with him irrevocably switched to love. That love (although new and fresh) morphed into a solid protector that would accept anything, tolerate everything, and care for him unconditionally. It made me grow up.
I was no longer a girl masquerading as a woman.
I was all woman, and if Penn was ready to take on the chief of police, I was ready to stand behind him and give him all my power, wealth, and notoriety to make that happen.
Four months to the day of my abduction and Penn’s arrest, Larry called me—like he did most days with requests for help, updates on Penn from my point of view, or just catching up to see how I was. However, this phone call smashed through our limbo of waiting. Making everything we’d worked for become real.
“One month from now,” Larry said, breathless with adrenaline. “Best I could do. Finally heard back.”
Tears welled in my eyes. One month? Four more long weeks?
But what was four weeks compared to three years?
“That’s wonderful.”
It’s too far away.
“I’m so happy.”
I’m gutted.
“He’ll be home soon.”
Just focus on that.
“Your father really came through, Elle,” Larry added gently, knowing I struggled with how my loving Dad could suddenly become so judgmental. “It’s his friend who rearranged his time. Patrick Blake. I don’t know if another case fell through or if he’s taken on some extra hours, but he’s granted us the hearing. God knows how he arranged for a twelve-seat jury to be ready in time, but he has.”
Shaking travelled down my arm, making the phone thawk against my ear. “That’s—I don’t know what to say.”
I wanted to run back to the brownstone and kiss my father stupid. I’d make him blueberry pancakes and apologize for being distant. I’d forgive the grudge I’d held for him for accepting Penn when he was an upstanding businessman and then shoving him in
to the shadows the moment he was arrested.
The fact that we hadn’t been as close these past few weeks hurt.
“What happens now?” My voice wobbled. “What do you need me to do?”
Larry sighed heavily, sounding as exhausted as I was. “Well, I’ll work extra hours on gathering the last few bits of evidence against Arnold Twig and his delightful son. In the trial, I’ll use that to point direction at the true criminal and show the jury that Penn was innocent of those crimes, just as he’s innocent of this one. With any luck, we’ll be able to link it all into one, expunge Penn’s prior convictions, and get the charges dropped.”
“And if that’s not entirely true?”
“What’s not true?”
“Well, technically, he did hurt Greg. The hospital took photos, and Greg’s moaning ensured a lot of people heard what happened. It’s his word against Penn’s.”
“That only shows there was a fight.” His tone turned sharp. “Penn didn’t go to that cabin to kill Greg. The attempted murder charge will be easy to overthrow.”
“How so?”
“There’s no evidence whatsoever of intent or premeditation. No paper trail to link Penn to any prior thoughts of violence toward your employee.”
There wasn’t, but I didn’t trust the law not to look into hearsay and find hard truth where there was none.
“They had a fight.” Larry sniffed. “Two men in a fight over a woman. Shit, if the state locked up everyone for that misdemeanor, most of the male population would be behind bars.”
Larry chuckled in frustration. “Greg was in the wrong for indecently assaulting you and holding you against your will. If he continues to say Penn went there to kill him, I’ll personally go after him so hard, he’ll be laughed out of court and be done for defamation and lying under oath. If there’s anyone with premeditation and a paper trail, it’s Greg. The packed supplies, the second vehicle—it all paints a picture of dishonorable intentions.”
An icy gale blew down my spine like it always did when I thought about Greg.
I hated that he hadn’t gotten in touch. The fact he’d gone from a patronizing presence—constantly popping into my office uninvited—to suddenly being completely elusive and silent...
It petrified me.
I’d told Larry what I’d done at the hospital—trying to bribe then blackmail him. He’d scolded me. Said how reckless I’d been. But after grilling me if there’d been anyone else in the room or any recording devices, he’d patted me on the back with pride.
The fact I’d put my neck on the line for Penn made his fondness for me triple. This entire stressful situation surrounding the man we both loved had brought us closer together than any normal situation.
Larry was the uncle I’d never had. My father-in-law, for all intents, if Penn ever did anything about our fake engagement.
“Okay.” The word was woefully underwhelming, but I had nothing else. I thought I’d be able to save Penn months of lock-up when we’d first begun this journey. The fact he was still imprisoned irritated me to angry tears.
Being part of the family dealing with freeing innocence was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. Turned out, I sucked at this hero stuff while Penn was such a natural.
“Tell me what I should do, Larry.”
“I hoped you’d say that,” he replied. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing, why?” I looked up as Fleur came into my office. She carried a bottle of wine with two glasses. Ever since the afternoon I’d spoken to the reporters, she appeared at the end of our workday with alcohol of some description—ready-mixed watermelon vodka, Midori shots, even champagne.
I’d told her I didn’t drink.
She’d told me I would have to start to survive the next few months.
I hadn’t argued.
We’d gotten drunk that night, and for the first time in forever, I was able to laugh even though guilt slithered inside me. I despised that I had a good time with Fleur, that my job kept me busy, my cat kept me sane, and my self-control kept me rational enough not to become a serial killer and hunt Arnold Twig or his son.
It was wrong that I lived while Penn was caged.
She cocked an eyebrow as Larry spoke into my ear. “Come over. I’ll be pulling an all-nighter. Need an assistant if you’re interested.”
The wine bottle in Fleur’s hand would remain untouched. “Consider me there already.”
A smile existed in his tone. “Excellent. Stewie will be relieved to see you. He wants to apologize.”
“Apologize? Why?”
“He finally told me what happened with the necklace at the charity event after he acted so weird around you the last time you popped over. He’s not coping well. Thinks he’s the reason why Penn is in jail like his brother, Gio.”
I rubbed at my heart. “Oh no, it’s not his fault.”
“Yep, all the more reason to come around. You can talk to him. I’ll brew a pot of coffee. See you soon, Elle.”
“Sure.” I hung up, looking reluctantly at the alcohol in Fleur’s grasp. “Can’t. Have to go do lawyer stuff to break Penn out of jail.”
“Oh, sounds fun.” She waggled the bottle. “Any room for this bad boy and me to tag along?”
I stroked Sage as she padded over my desk and hooked her claws around the stem of one of the wine glasses. She tipped it over before I could catch it. Luckily, the glass bounced on the carpet and didn’t shatter.
“Why would you want to come? It’s just more work. More computer time. More fine print.” I stood, slinging my black with pink-lace jacket on over the dark pink dress I wore. Pink didn’t spring to mind as corporate, but once again, Fleur picked it out and was right.
“Well, my hubby-to-be is out on a bachelor night with friends. I don’t want to sit at home wondering if he’s motor boating some stripper’s boobs.” She pulled a face. “I’d much rather be sitting with you doing exciting things like researching how to break your lover out of jail. It’s all very cloak and dagger.” Her eyes twinkled as if spending a night bent over paperwork was as raunchy as watching the Chippendales.
“Well, if you’re sure.” I smiled. “You’re more than welcome, and I’d love the company. I’m sure Larry would say we need all the eyes we can get.” I took the wine from her and placed it in my large tote. “And for the record, your hubby won’t have his face in some stripper’s boobs.”
“That’s what everyone says.” She rolled her eyes. “But bachelor parties are the Bermuda triangle of good decisions and decent men. They all get lost along the way, only to be spat back out the next day with no memory of it.”
Looping my arm with hers, I patted my thigh for Sage to follow and prepared to work my ass off for Penn. “In that case, consider tonight as reckless as a motorcycle crack party.”
“Oh, yay. I’ve always wanted to see what those two-wheeled outlaws do for fun.”
Letter from Elle
TWO WEEKS, PENN.
Two weeks until this is all over and you walk free.
Larry has everything arranged.
I have duplicates of his research and evidence locked safe.
We’re not backing down this time.
You’re no longer on your own, and when you’re free, I’m going to show you exactly how much I missed you.
With every part of me.
Lips.
Tongue.
Hands.
You get the idea.
I’ll stop before this letter gets censored and not delivered.
Fourteen days.
I can’t wait.
Letter from Penn
ONE WEEK, ELLE.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out. That the thought of facing everyone, of hearing that bastard testify against me in court when he was the one who stole you...fuck, just thinking about it makes me livid.
Seven days until I get to see you, smell you, feel you behind me in the gallery and know how much you mean to me.
Seven days unt
il I’m hopefully free and I’m going to do so many dirty bad things to you I’ll probably get locked up again.
And I’m fully aware that has probably just flagged me, and a guard is watching me extra close from now on. But I don’t fucking care.
So close yet so far.
So easy yet so hard.
I’ve shared pieces of myself in these letters, but writing it down is different to pillow talk. I want to stroke your skin while I answer any question you wish to know. I want to hug you close while you tell me about your childhood.
We have a lifetime to get to know each other, Elle.
And soon, we can start living it.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Penn
THE CALENDAR HAD crawled by.
Yet, as I was given a black suit rather than freshly laundered prison scrubs after an earlier than normal wake-up call, five months seemed like it’d been five minutes.
I was ready.
I wasn’t ready.
I was prepared to fight.
I was terrified to fight.
I hated that half of me was unstoppable while the other was a fucking pussy.
I almost wished I didn’t have Elle and Larry fighting for me, supporting me. Because if we lost today, losing them would rip out my heart and I wouldn’t have the energy to keep going. If I was alone with only empty streets and long nights to look forward to, I might be more willing to play hard ass and point fingers at those who could destroy me.
I’d say goodbye to everything I ever wanted if this backfired.
But I’d told Larry I was done keeping Twig’s secrets.
He’d spent months gathering what was needed.
I wouldn’t let him down.
With my heart jumping like a heroin-cranked addict, I showered and shaved, hacking off the beard I’d grown, revealing some of the scars I’d earned thanks to my days on the streets.
Slipping into cotton instead of polyester somehow gave me a sense of power I’d been lacking while locked up like a dog. The too-big-for-me suit gave me courage that everything would go to plan and I wouldn’t end up trapped in here for the rest of my life.
Throne of Truth Page 23
