Page 149 of Hard Heart

On Thursday afternoon, we all visited Maymont for a couple of hours after work because apart from getting kidnapped and going to the theatre, Flora had done nothing but eat pizza and sit around in the apartment. We swung by the Diamondback Devils’ clubhouse on the way home, and Mum and Dad would have kittens if they saw the photos of her riding around on a Harley.

On Friday, the forensics results came through. Officially, we didn’t know who the male DNA under Ruby’s fingernails belonged to, but it definitely wasn’t Levi’s. Coincidentally, it matched DNA extracted from a hair bulb found at the scene of the Paulson shooting, so it seemed Grafton Fisk had been busy. Unofficially, Ari confirmed that the DNA belonged to him, and she also said the governor had been briefed on the situation.

The following week, the negotiations began.

An absolute pardon for Levi was a given, but the state of Virginia had stolen ten years of his life. What price could you put on that? Just over half a million bucks, apparently, but Levi dug his heels in and said that wasn’t good enough. He didn’t want money. He wanted two things. Firstly, the art program at Redding’s Hill had to be made official. No more sneaky sessions in the chow hall with the staff pocketing the proceeds from inmates’ hard work. The governor agreed to that one—it was a win-win for him. A no-brainer. The state would save money, and he’d look as if he cared about prisoner rehabilitation.

The second condition? That one was trickier. Levi didn’t want to leave Diesel behind in prison. But Diesel had killed a person. Yes, there were extenuating circumstances, and yes, the dead man had been a violent career criminal, but Diesel had dragged him for three miles behind his motorcycle. That deal took another fortnight to button down, and the governor wasn’t particularly happy about it, but when Levi promised to avoid media interviews until after the next election, the governor had grudgingly agreed. In another three months, Diesel would quietly get a conditional pardon with a raft of conditions attached, including community service, regular reporting, and anger management classes. He’d shown remorse, and two psychologists agreed that he’d made significant steps towards rehabilitation during the time he’d spent behind bars. He wasn’t a danger to society. And wasn’t that the point of a prison sentence? Not to lock a man up and throw away the key while costing taxpayers a fortune, but to make the world a safer place.

As for me, I’d made an agreement of my own. I’d promised to stay quiet about Jerry and her team, about the work they did, and in return, they’d help out if the Justice Project ever needed a little off-the-books assistance.

Which brought us to today.

Freedom Day.

I still had the Honda, but I also had a shiny black Mercedes with tinted windows and a driver. He’d shown up outside the apartment on Maymont day and explained that he was there to take me wherever I wanted to go for the next three months. Given the circumstances, my first thought hadn’t been, Oh, how lovely, but rather, Who the hell is trying to kidnap us this time? Thankfully, Chase had called a minute later to explain that he’d sent the car because I looked too tired to drive safely, and I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or insulted by that.

The yelling started when we walked out of the prison building, Raelene first with Levi at her side, and me bringing up the rear. By some miracle, I’d managed to keep a reasonably low profile, and Raelene had handled the press conferences like the pro she was. As well as the million dollars from Alexa, the Justice Project had seen a steady uptick in small donations from members of the public, and that was mostly because Raelene’s determination and compassion came across every time she opened her mouth.

I found myself sandwiched between my boss and the love of my life as we finally left the Redding’s Correctional Complex behind. Good riddance.

“I never thought this day would come,” he said softly.

“I’m not gonna lie, you had me in the first half.”

He chuckled and tucked an arm around me. For the first time in a long time, I was able to relax.

“So, what’s the plan, kemosabe?” he asked. “Are we staying around here tonight?”

“No, we’re going to the airfield and taking a helicopter home.”

Home. There’d never been any question over whether we’d be living together. The sensible half of me, the part that had ended up dating a fucking cellist, thought that maybe we should try dating for a while. The wild half that I was learning to embrace pointed out that if I wanted “sensible,” I’d never have given a man a foot job in prison. My heart never wanted to be apart from Levi Thomas Sykes.

But where were we going to live? For him, there was only one answer. Blackstone House, so full of hope and heartache, the walls built with blood, sweat, and tears. Despite its dark past, he said the place felt like home, and I understood. It was a lovely old house. I’d probably never go in the tower rooms again, but I thought I could learn to love the rest the way he did.

I spoke with his old roommates, and they understood too. And they helped. They came to clean and redecorate and move any old stuff they’d left behind. Well, Jerry didn’t, she just hobbled around and bitched about her crutches, but she still showed up. Alexa hired a landscaping team to finish the koi pond, and Justin sent an entire construction crew to tidy the outside of the house.

I rested my head on Levi’s shoulder.

“I need a shower,” he said. “And a haircut.”

“You don’t smell bad,” I assured him.

The hygiene was actually pretty good in prison. When I’d remarked as much to Raelene, she’d explained that if a prisoner didn’t shower, the others beat him up. And since the inmates had to clean their own cells, they tended to make a good job of it.

“But I still smell of prison. I think it’s the soap. Does the hot water still work at home?”

“The boiler’s been replaced with a more efficient model.”

One of Justin’s team had helped out there. I’d met his girlfriend too, Jessalyn, and she was sweet and lovely and still obviously traumatised from everything Fisk and his friends had put her through. I was more grateful than ever that Flora had slept through her ordeal because at least she wouldn’t have those memories to deal with.

No, that was just me.

Jerry had found me a therapist with an appropriate security clearance and I was working through it, but I still had bad days.

My hand found its way into Levi’s, and our fingers twined together. Even the worst days were worth it to have him by my side.

“Thank you,” he murmured.