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 into 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?”