Page 108 of Protecting Christina

“We find the defendant, Simon Graff, guilty.”

I reached for my sister’s hand beside me and she inhaled sharply. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered, and her voice cracked. “I can’t believe he’s going to prison for what he did to us.”

I shook our clasped hands as tears welled up in my eyes. “You did it.”

She turned her body toward me. “We did it.” Then she looked behind me to Will. “All of us. We couldn’t have done it alone.”

Lynette and Cheyanne, who preferred to sit in the back during the trial, rushed up behind us and wrapped their arms around my neck and Donna’s. “I don’t fucking believe it. This stuff never works out for people like me.”

I squeezed her arm. “You were great. You held your own when he came after you. I’m so proud of you all.”

“A round of drinks on me,” said Will beside me.

“Now that’s a great idea,” said Cheyanne.

As we all stood up, I caught Simon’s eye. He narrowed his gaze and mouthed, “Fuck you.”

I smiled. We’d done it. We left the bastard with nothing but his hatred.

I turned to leave, but noticed Will wasn’t beside me. He stood staring at Simon as the guard ushered him out of the courtroom.

“Are you coming?” I asked.

“I’ll be right there,” he said. “Head over to The Fox and the Fiddle. I have an account there. They’ll look after you until I arrive.”

“Will you be long?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked back at me and smiled. “I’ll be with you shortly. I promise.”

He walked toward one of the guards at the back of the room and slipped something into his hands. The guard glanced down and his eyes widened.

What was he up to?

25

Will

Christina avoided my question about Simon. Was this case only about Donna or was it much more personal than that?

If it was anyone else, I would leave it alone. But my body couldn’t walk away from the guy until I knew if he had done something to hurt her. And I wouldn’t force her to relive it if she didn’t want to talk about it.

So, I paid the guard three hundred dollars for fifteen minutes alone with Simon in a private cell.

“Why the hell is he here?” asked Simon when I entered the dark room.

The guard didn’t answer. He simply nodded and left, leaving me alone with the man who tried to kill me. I’d faced soldiers and terrorists who wanted me dead, or, at the very least, bleeding, or maimed. I wasn’t afraid of Simon Graff. Not at all. Standing in front of this low-level street rat, I slipped my hands in my pockets and leaned against the door frame.

“You tried to kill me and those women, but you failed. And now you’re going to prison for a very long time.”

“You don’t know that. The trial isn’t over yet.”

“I read the faces of those jury members. Take a good look around, Simon. This will be your home for a decade or so.”

“Fuck off, man. You don’t scare me.”

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