help him correct that.
When she waited for them to bring him to her on a warm summer day a year and a half after their first meeting, the average, ordinary Jessica Rowe had long since crossed the point of no return.
He’d mentioned blue as his favorite color. She wore a blue dress. He’d been a personal trainer, and even now generously, selflessly offered his skills and advice to other inmates.
She couldn’t quite make herself go to a gym, but bought exercise DVDs and worked out fiercely at home. She’d had her hair cut, colored, styled, had studied YouTube to learn how to apply makeup.
He’d transformed her. Though she knew she’d never rival someone like Charlotte Dupont, she’d found a new confidence in her looks, felt she wouldn’t shame him when they built their life together.
Her heart pounded when she heard the locks give, the door open. She could barely breathe when he walked into the room, for that moment when their eyes met and she saw the love and approval in his.
Still, she nodded briskly at the guard, folded her hands over the file she had open. And waited until they were alone.
“I live for this,” he told her. “For just this moment when I see you again.”
Her already thundering heart swelled. “I’d come every day if I could. I know you’re right when you said we need to stick to once a week. Maybe twice when it makes sense. But I miss you so much, Grant. Tell me first, if you’ve had any trouble, anything.”
“No.” His eyes cut away from hers as if he had to compose himself. “I’m careful. As careful as you can be in here. But I’m afraid she might try again. She’ll wait for me to relax a little, for it to blow over, then she’ll pay someone else to kill me. The next may have better luck.”
“Don’t say that, Grant. Don’t.” As her eyes filled with fear tears, she reached out, gripped his hands. “I’m still fighting for your release. I won’t stop. I know you said no before, but I could hire a more experienced criminal attorney. I could—”
“I don’t trust anyone but you.” He looked into her eyes, deep, deep. “You’re the only person in the world I trust. She could get to someone else, my darling. It’s what she does. I know it’s only months now until I’m up for parole. Now that I have you, I could do that time without a single regret or worry. To know you’ll be waiting for me when I get out . . . But now it’s if I get out. If I get out alive.”
“Let me go talk to her. I always intended to for the book, but—”
“If she did anything to hurt you, do you think I could live with it?” He released her hands, used them to cover his face before dropping them.
“You can’t worry about me, Grant. I know I didn’t do a good job with that lying, conspiring sheriff, but—”
“That wasn’t your fault,” he said quickly. “I gave you the names of the men to hire. You stood up for me, Jessie, when no one ever has. But it did make me think . . .”
When he trailed off, she leaned close. “Tell me.”
“It’s a crazy idea. It’s too risky. For you.”
“I’ll do anything. You know that. Tell me.”
The excitement in her voice, the eagerness on her face told him he already had it in the bag.
“I had a lot of time to think after I was attacked. About what the cops said to me when they came here.”
“Accusing you of everything.” It lit a killing flame in her. “Always you.”
“But there was some doubt there. I saw it. Especially with the girl cop. Women are more perceptive, I think. If there was a way to throw more suspicion on Charlotte, they might stop her before she . . . before she had a chance to go after me again. I could do the next eight months knowing I’d walk out and into your arms. I could do anything knowing that.”
“But if I tried to hire someone to kill her—”
“No, darling, not her. And not hiring anyone. But no.” He shook his head, looked away again. “I can’t ask you to do something like this. I’ll just have to watch my back until the doors finally open.”
“I won’t have you live like that. I won’t live like that, afraid every day they’ll call and tell me you’ve been hurt.