Blackbird (A Stepbrother Romance #1)(53)

I blinked. It wasn’t supposed to work like that. I mean, the whole objection-overruled thing is a TV schtick, right? They usually go talk in the judge’s office and shit. What the hell was this? Morty was purple, beside himself with fury. His partner leaned over and whispered.

“Let them. This is all fodder for the appeal. They don’t have anything on you, Vic. They have no evidence. What they do have points to Martin!”

There was a commotion behind me. Mom and Martin led Eve out of the gallery. She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking. She was completely breaking down and there was nothing I could do. I was chained to the f*cking floor. The bailiff gave me the stink eye if I even thought about getting up, like he just knew.

The rest of Brittany’s testimony was boring. Dates and places we met, half of them fabricated.

It went on for almost five hours. There was a lot of information.

That evening, I was led out of the holding cell. Morty and Claire were waiting for me in the fish tank, with Powers. The guards sat me down, chained me to the table, and stepped out.

“We’re here for a plea bargain,” Morty said to me, his voice heavy with doubt.

“This is what happens,” said Powers, seating himself across from me. “You had your shot, rich boy. You sign the papers now and take this plea agreement. If you do not, tomorrow we will call Evelyn Ross to the stand and ask her several very pointed questions.

“About what?”

“Where you were, what you were doing, and where you told her you were on several key dates.”

“This is bullshit,” Claire declared, firmly. “Don’t take anything, don’t sign anything, Vic.”

“How long?” I rasped.

“Six years. Five with good behavior.”

“Their case is a joke,” Morty said to me. “This is a formality. Don’t take the deal.”

“If I don’t take it, you call Eve to testify,” I said.

“That’s right,” Powers said, softly. “What do you think about that?”

“Six years. Five with good behavior.”

I slid the papers over to Morty. “Read this and make sure he’s not lying about what it says.”

“Vic…” Claire said, pleading with me.

“Just do it.”

Morty gave me a sad look. “For the sake of the love I bore your father, don’t sign this.”

“Is it legit?”

“Yea. You’ll be pleading to lesser chargers, they agreed to drop a couple.”

“It doesn’t matter. I could go to jail for a week and I still lose my inheritance.”

“Prison,” Powers corrected. “Jail is for pre-trial detention. Your inheritance. Oh no, we couldn’t have you lose that.”

“I don’t give a f*ck about my inheritance. Just leave Evelyn alone.”

I signed the papers. I signed my life away.

I couldn’t let them put Eve up there. I had to find another way. I just needed to talk to her.

Things proceeded. Eve did not attend the trial after that. It wasn’t much of one. The judge read over the agreement, approved it. Words were said. I was remanded to custody.

I went to prison.

First thing, it wasn’t like the movies. There wasn’t a whole thing with a bunch of guys shouting fresh fish, nor was I going to a hardcore supermax. In fact, I was going to medium security, one step above let-you-out-on weekends. They were not letting me out on weekends. I had to go through the whole procedure again, get a new uniform, still bright orange.

It was pretty late when they led me into my cell and I met my cellmate. I didn’t know what to expect. He was on the bottom bunk, reading a book propped open in the biggest, hairiest hands I’ve ever seen. Every part of him was hairy except for his shiny bald egg head. I thought he was fat at first but he was all mass, moving with a strange grace when I walked into the cell carrying an armful of cheap, stiff linens. My mattress looked more like a blanket. It didn’t matter. It could be a king-size memory foam whatever and it would be the worst bed in the world without Eve. It was starting to sink in that it was all over, that I would never be waking up next to her again. I must have just stood there for a while.

“Vitali,” my cellmate announced, thrusting out his hand.

I dropped my things on the top bunk and took his hand. He gave me a firm, almost brutal shake.

“Victor.”

“I know who you are. I have pulled strings to make sure you are bunked here. You are Victor Amsel. They call me Vitali the Hammer.”

Oh shit. That Vitali.

“What are you doing here?”

I probably shouldn’t have shown fear, but at that moment I was scared shitless. This was the Vitali that Brittany was always talking about, the one I was supposed to be setting up to take a fall along with Martin.

“You are afraid I am going to kill you.”

I blinked a few times. “Yeah.”

“I would not kill you. I would have someone else kill you. I am not wanting to go to supermax.” His Russian accent started poking out, rounding out his vowels, making him sound a little harsh. “No. I bring you here because I am wanting to be your friend.”

“I’ve been told not to make friends here,” I said.

Actually, no one told me that. I saw it in a movie. Also, it made a hell of a lot of sense. Vitali was not the kind of guy I wanted on my speed dial.