I've been waiting in this small holding room for about an hour while the jury deliberates. I keep replaying the expression on her face when she said I raped her. That one word felt like a fucking piece of shrapnel had ripped through my chest. Even though I told her to say it, and I hoped that she would, it still fucking hurt. From the outside, everything she said appears to be true. It's easier for people to believe she was raped than it is for them to accept that she fell in love with a guy like me. Out of all of this, what bothers me the fucking most is that one day, our daughter will question who her father is. She'll wonder why I've never been there, and if she asks anyone but Tor, what will they say? Eventually, she will find out who I am, and when that happens, she will hate me, she will believe she is the result of something fucking awful. And she's not.
The door to the room opens, and the officer steps inside to get me. "Come on. They've reached a verdict."
I'm escorted back to the courtroom, all eyes hone in on me, judging me as I take my seat on the wooden bench. I'm immediately forced to stand back up when the judge enters and takes his place at the stand.
"Have the jurors reached a decision?" he asks, peering over his glasses.
One man rises, papers in hand as he says, "We have."
"Proceed with the sentencing, please."
The man's eyes nervously dart over to mine then back down to the papers. "On count one of murder in the first degree," his voice shakes and he stops to clear his throat. "We the jury find the defendant guilty." I listen to them rattle off the verdict, and then I hear "... death by lethal injection."
My heart drums up into my throat. Knowing your life is over is a fucking unsettling feeling. I turn to look at Tor, and she's staring at me, eyes wide, her face washed ghost-white. She grabs onto the seat in front of her and stumbles forward before her body goes limp. Her sister catches her before she hits the floor.
"Tor," I shout, jumping up and rushing in her direction. I make it just a few steps before I'm tackled to the ground by several officers. I fight to get them off of me. "Get the fuck off of me."
I'm dragged to my feet.
I pull against them as they push me to the side of the room. "Somebody fucking do something." I turn to face the officer to my left and glare at him. "Do something!" I growl through my clenched teeth. "Fucking get her help!"
"Mr. Pearson!" the judge shouts. "Sit back down in your seat! Bailiff, get Ms. Devaux some medical attention please."
They aren't moving quickly enough and fuck it; I've just been sentenced to death, what the hell does it matter?
"Get her help right the fuck now!"
"Take him out of my courtroom. Now!" the judge orders.
I'm not leaving this room until she comes to. Let them try and fucking make me! These fucking men are half my size. I manage to throw my weight around enough that I knock one of the officers off his feet. I snatch my other arm free, and I pull my cuffed arms back like I'm holding a Louisville Slugger and slam my fists against the remaining officer's temple. He drops to the floor like a fucking fly, and the entire room erupts in panicked screams.
I turn around and see Tor groggily sitting up with her hand to her head. Four other officers are rushing toward me; two have guns pulled. I realize I may never see her again. I have no idea what's going on in her head, no idea if she'll soon accept how crazy this all was.
"I love you, Tor. It's gonna be okay, doll, I promise," I shout.
The weight of the officers slam against my back, and they tackle me to the ground. Knees dig into my back as they push down on my neck. "Don't fight. Don't fight!" they yell at me, and I give in, lying completely still on the floor.
I'm yanked to my feet; shoved and pushed in the direction of the door behind the podium. I keep my eyes lock on Tor. She's not really with it yet, but at least some of the color has returned to her face. She stares at me and fuck me, does she look broken. My view of her is obstructed when a woman, who I assume must be her sister, steps in front of Tor, glaring at me like she's trying to shield her from me. That woman fucking hates me, and it's evident by her expression.
All eyes in the courtroom are on me as I'm escorted out.
Tor thinks she just killed me because of her statement. The thing she doesn't understand is if I can't have my freedom, if I can't be with her, I'm fucking dead anyways.
"Five minutes," the bailiff says as he leans against the wall. My hands are cuffed, but I've learned over the past several weeks how to do most things with them bound like this. I'm seated in front of a thick window, and on the other side of the glass is Marney. I pick up the receiver and cradle it with my chin.
"Well, orange ain't really a good look for you, boy," his hoarse voice comes through the line.
I frown.
"Look, Marney, you make sure she's taken care of. You know where all the..." I stop myself, quickly glancing around the room. The guard's three feet away from me and I'm pretty damn sure there's surveillance in here. I guess I need to play this shit up in case they're onto Marney's ass as well. I clear my throat and set my gaze hard on him. "Make sure she has all the assets she needs." My eyebrow twitches as I stare him down, making certain he knows what I mean. I had more money than fucking Bill Gates stashed in my house and under an alias in stocks.
He nods. "Yeah, I'll make sure I find a way to help her out." Another subtle nod. He taps his fingers over the stainless steel counter in front of him. "What a shock it was to me that you got yourself all tangled up in this mess." I can see his lips straining against a smile, his voice cracking under a chuckle. "Boy, you was brought up in church. What the hell got into you? The devil?"
I roll my eyes. Fuck, Marney. Don't go over the top or anything with this shit. "Yeah, yeah. I'm an asshole, I know. Sorry to let you down," I groan. "Have you heard from her?"
"Nope. Most likely not going to." His face crumples. He'd grown pretty fond of her. He traces his finger over the counter. "Most likely not going to," he repeats.
We sit in silence for a moment. There's not much more to say at this point. Our lives are completely fucked. "Well, just make sure she has what she needs for her and the baby, okay?"
"Sure will kid."
I place the phone on the receiver, and Marney pushes away from the table, turns, and walks off. I rise and the guard automatically takes a hold of me to escort me back to my cell, but instead of taking a left at the end of the hall, we take a right.
"Lucky you, you've got visitors today," he says as he opens the door and walks me into a small room.
There is a rickety table with four chairs, and sitting in two of them are FBI agents. A bottle of water is placed in front of me, and the guard turns to exit the door. "I'll be right outside," he says as he reaches for the door. "That one there's a wily one. Angry too."
One of the agents smirks at me. "I think we can handle him."
The door shuts and both men's eyes set on me.
"Mr. Pearson, I'm Agent Tidewell, and this," he points to the man perched on the table beside him, "is Agent Wilson."
I say nothing. I just direct my gaze between the two of them and focus on the back wall.
The metal legs of the chair scrape against the floor as Tidwell rises from his seat. The heel of his shoe clicks over the concrete as he moves around the table toward me He brings himself into my line of vision, and leans down, putting his face uncomfortably close to mine. "We've got an offer for you, so I suggest you listen up." He pops his gum before straightening back up. "You are quite the career criminal. Hell, you were the number one enemy of Joe Campbell... you took down Joe Campbell." His eyes roam over me for a brief moment.
Leaning back in my chair, I say, "I'm not into dealing with government officials. You're wasting your fucking time with me. I already told that woman I wouldn't say anything."
"The FBI knows your list of contacts must be..." he falls silent, which causes me to look in his direction, "... impressive to say the least." His eyes almost twinkle with that statement.
I remain silent, my gaze locked with his in a cold stare.
He leans against the table and crosses his arms as he cocks his head to one side. "You know you've been sentenced to death, and you know they are trying their damnedest to hurry your execution along, make a spectacle out of you for all the other criminals? You won't get a fifteen years sentence to try and appeal time and time again. I bet you'll be in the execution room within two years, Pearson."
I keep my face expressionless. It doesn't matter to me if I die today or ten years from now. I'm going to die. And that's that.
He glances down at his black tie and straightens it. "You know, we could make a deal here, Mr. Pearson. A very generous deal for the names of the people you work with. Politicians, cops; we know you have people in government working for you..."
"Very smart of you. How fucking long did it take you to figure that basic shit out?"
Agent Wilson taps his shoe over the floor. "That woman of yours, she's pregnant? Don't you want to see that baby? Don't you want it to have a father?"
Oh, for fuck's sake. Really? "Are you really trying to play to the emotions of a convicted murderer? Execution, no execution. I'm behind bars for life. What kind of father do you think I'll be? You can just drop that shit right now."
He frowns, and he crosses his arms. Surely to God he knew that shit wouldn't work on me of all fucking people.
"Jude, I can see to it you get life in prison if you just cooperate with us. I mean, come on, who really wants to die?"
Who wants to die? I've seen Tor at that point—where death seemed like a beautiful escape. I've put men to that point of desperation because of her. "A lot of people want to die. Sometimes death seems like a much more pleasant option," I say.
Tidewell tosses his arms in the air before slamming them down on the table. "Oh, give me a break with the hard-ass bullshit!"
I laugh because he actually thinks he can entice me to sell-out other people for life in fucking prison. Rotting in a jail cell is not reason enough for me. One side of my lips flips up. "I have people underneath my fucking thumb that outrank you by a mile. Why in the hell would I make a deal with you?"
They both glance at each other.
"The only way I would tell you anything is if you could give me my fucking life back" I narrow my gaze, honing in on him. "Can you fucking do that?"
"Mr. Pearson," Tidewell glares at me, "let's not go to extremes here..."
"I have politicians, cops, people all the way up the chain of fucking command that have helped cover up my shit for years. I know an endless number of hitmen. Basically, if someone's in organized crime, chances are, they fucking owe me money." I slowly raise my eyes, shifting my gaze between the two men. "You make the fucking deal of the century, or I'm not saying shit. I don't take deals. I make them!" I shift in my seat and stare at them.
"Sorry to say, the government doesn't publically grant freedom to convicted murderers of your caliber. If you change your mind, Mr. Pearson," he throws his card down on the table, "you can have your lawyer contact us."
They both make their way to the door, shaking their heads as they exit. I sit back down in the chair, waiting for someone to take me back to my cell.