Page 5 of The Woman on the Jury

I couldn’t have.

Because I knew what the answer was going to be.

Fuck no.

It wasn’t that they wouldn’t empathize with the situation, that they wouldn’t want to do the same thing, but they wouldn’t be able to condone it. To risk it.

So, well, I just… did it.

I didn’tplanon getting caught. But… shit happens. What can I say? It was getting harder and harder in this world to do anything without some trail leading back to you.

In the Family, we usually had ways to cover our tracks.

Namely, Silvano.

My step-brother.

The bane of my fucking existence most of the time.

But it wasn’t brotherly bullshit that had me not calling him.

It was the whole ‘not involving the Family’ thing.

“I will be in touch,” my lawyer said, giving me a firm handshake.

“Yes?” I asked, catching the eye of my other attorney, the woman named Vega with flame-red hair, and a ton of tattoos under her professional suit, who was sitting in because… I dunno… she was the cousin to someone in the family or some shit like that.

“You know, if you weren’t a complete and utter dick, I would climb you like a tree,” she said, looking up at me with a nod.

Despite myself, I felt my lips curve up a bit at that.

“Good to know,” I agreed, nodding.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s got to be good to know that it isn’t your looks that are holding you back from massive amounts of pussy.”

“Just my personality,” I said.

“Exactly,” she said, smiling. “Well, catch you around, Big Guy. Try not to murder anyone else, okay?” she asked, then turned and walked down the courthouse steps, making a beeline for the closest hot dog vendor.

How she kept a body like that, eating like she ate, was beyond me.

“Fuck,” I hissed, rolling my neck, as I looked up at the sky.

Fall was in full swing but leaning colder, like winter was right around the corner.

I knew I was supposed to be happy that the holidays were coming soon, and that I would be free for them. All I could seem to muster, though, was an almost overwhelming sense of dread.

I’d turned everyone away after my arrest and during my house arrest. Refusing to see anyone. Not even accepting meals when they’d been dropped off.

I thought I was going away.

Twenty-five years, at least.

I figured it would be better to cut everyone off before that happened, to make the transition easier.

But here I was.

Somehow… free.

---