Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(47)

“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.

I waited for some resemblance of contrition. That his money-hungry brain would put self-preservation first rather than screwing over another just because Penn had things he didn’t.

For a second, I thought I’d won. His shoulders fell, his pout turned into questions.

But then he looked up, locked eyes with me, and something changed. Hard-edged contempt replaced his petty, childish greed. He snickered. “Oh, Elle.”

It sent sharp claws down my back, shredding me.

He murmured soft and sultry as if we were in bed together. “Guess you’ll find out in court. Won’t you?”

The world slowed down.

I’d come for a conclusion. To free Penn and finally uphold my side of the debt. But instead, all I got was uncertainty. The open-ended, unresolved fear that Greg wouldn’t do what I demanded. That he would willingly gamble with his life if it meant destroying Penn’s. That he would force me to lie under oath and join him in his manipulative game. That it might all backfire and I’d be the one behind bars for committing a crime.

This was stupid.

I hate him.

“How dare you—” I seethed.

The police touched my elbow, making me jump. “Ma’am, time to go.”

“This isn’t over, Greg.” Fury stole the rest of my voice as the officer guided me from the room while Greg blew me a condescending kiss.

I’d come to save Penn.

I’d failed.

I’d screwed up.

Again.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Penn


FOUR DAYS IN hell.

I still had the cell to myself, which at least gave me some privacy. Recreational time and meals, I kept my head down and behavior impeccable. I didn’t brown nose or try to make friends, but I didn’t answer back or act like a dick if someone spoke to me.

I knew the rules. I stuck to them.

Larry told me to hang in there and stay focused on getting out. He pumped me with confidence only he could—thanks to the previous miracles he’d worked on my behalf.

I didn’t let the thickening anxiety drown me because he was on my side.

He said he was working on my case when I’d been given a phone pass two days ago. Visitation rights were still pending and probably wouldn’t be granted for a while. Remand prisoners sometimes got better rights than our convicted cousins, but most of the time, we got worse.

They liked to claim visits and phone calls were detrimental to remand prisoners because evidence hadn’t been provided to the court yet and no verdict had been granted. Documents and information pertinent to particular crimes had a way of going missing, but at the same time, fact building and truth collaborating stalled because communication was denied.

An unwinnable situation.

But hopefully, my lawyer and benefactor of not just money but friendship and happiness would find a way.

Like he always does.

Besides, phone calls were better. At least, I didn’t have to sit across from Larry and see the fucking disappointment in his eyes. It would kill him to see me back here, and I’d already spent last year fearing he’d die. I didn’t want to be the cause of his stress all over again.

Not to mention, I couldn’t think about Elle in a place like this. I couldn’t call her because it ripped my heart out knowing I couldn’t touch her, kiss her, look her in the eye and tell her everything she wanted to know.

She knew who I was. She didn’t know my past. Would she still apologize to me after I’d told her everything? Would she still trust me...or at least learn to trust me?

We were forced apart, and we would remain apart until I was a free man again.

And if that never happens?

I coughed with pain.

Well, I guess it’s over then.

I wouldn’t let her waste her life waiting for me while I festered in this hellhole.

Shuffling forward in the line for lunch, I handed over my tray as the men on kitchen duty slopped a runny taco with the barest amount of cheese. I pursed my lips in disgust then moved on to collect a bottle of water and a rosy apple.

Taking my food to the table squashed against the wall, I climbed over the bench and sat heavily. The prior times I’d been here, I didn’t remember being so fucking down. Sure, I wasn’t happy, but at least I still had a laugh with one or two of the guys I had become friends with.

I still had the motivation to go to the library or work hard on assigned tasks throughout the week.