Dead or Alive (25 page)

“Don’t be sorry, baby.”  He tried to fight the sadness in his voice, but it broke through, stealing the sound, slicing his words.  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“You’d have never had to shoot him if I hadn’t shown up here like a fucking idiot.”

“Stop, V.”  He clawed at the back of her shirt.  “It’s not your fault.  None of this is your fault.”

“We’ll get through this. I swear it.” She clawed at his own shirt as she whispered her next words.  “I love you, Remy.”

Remy jammed his eyes shut, blocking out the house in the distance, the numbing thought of Jason, anything and everything that didn’t involve the woman wrapped around him.  It was finally over, and he no longer had to protect her from himself, shield her from his world.

“I love you, V.  I love you more than I’ll ever love anything again.” He’d die for her, he’d killed for her.  He would kill again, a hundred times more, for her.  If he had to.

He buried his face in her hair just as his body was overtaken with emotion, the weight of his words, and the unbearable truth that this nightmare was far from over.

The sweet sound of sirens plowing away in the distance surrounded them as they held tight in their crying embrace, and tears left Remy’s eyes as he gazed at the house, once more.

The loss of Jason, the weight of his betrayal, would strip away at Remy, bit by bit.  He had no doubt.

Without the woman in his arms, he would surely never survive such a loss.  Such a terrible, unfathomable shock to his heart.  Without her, he wasn’t sure knowing the truth would’ve been worth it.  It would’ve cut too deeply if he’d had to face it alone.  It would’ve killed him, dimmed his spirit, his soul, faster than twenty lifetimes in prison ever could.

But holding Violet, right then, he knew nothing was insurmountable.

No battle was undefeatable.

As long as she was in his arms.

***

“Jason Jacobson had an extensive history of un-diagnosed mental illness.  Not unlike any other disease, avoiding treatment only gave that illness more room to breathe, more room to grow.  In this case, it grew into a monster that took two lives—including his own.”  The defense attorney came to an abrupt stop in front of the jury box in the courtroom, and soon his eyes were the only thing in motion as they jumped from one wide-eyed juror to the other.  “Jason Jacobson’s illness went untreated for thirty years of his life, it grew, it evolved, it drove him to the edge of madness.  An edge he tumbled over almost instantly, when he discovered his secret lover, Meredith Collins, was sleeping with another man.  An employee, a peer, a Captain at his airline.  Anyone else would have been hurt, sure.  Angry? Absolutely.  Hungry for revenge? Without question.  But Jason Jacobson took it one step farther. Jason Jacobson plotted an elaborate plan to punish the people who hurt him.  Jason Jacobson put on a Captain’s uniform and murdered Meredith with the sole intent of framing her lover, Captain Joe Piasta, with the crime.”

“What Jason Jacobson didn’t plan on was Joe Piasta calling into work that day.  What he didn’t plan on was an innocent man, Remington Archibald…” The attorney motioned to Remy without taking his eyes off of the jury. “…getting caught up in his tangled, murderous web. The only crime Remington is guilty of is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Is Remington Archibald perfect? Of course not. I don’t think anyone is accusing him of that. He is simply one of the many victims who got caught up in Jason Jacobson’s tangled web.  Can we really, in good conscience, punish Remington Archibald for fighting for his life, and the life of Violet Chambers, in the only way he knew how?  Can we really, in good conscience, send him back behind bars, when an epic failure in the system is what put him there in the first place?  Remington Archibald is no angel.  He took a hostage.  He stole a police aircraft.  He stole a
boat
. He put potential lives at risk. He shot a man. You’ll never catch me accusing him of being a saint. You might even tell me it’s insane to call Remington Archibald a
victim
after everything he’s done.  Well, I’m doing it.  I’m calling it.  Remington Archibald is a victim, ladies and gentlemen.
Remington Archibald is a victim
.”

Violet swallowed thickly as the defense attorney began to move again, realizing she’d forgotten to breathe as she listened to him give his closing statements.  The man was good.  Like they had many times during the trial, her eyes went to the back of Remy’s head, watching him watch his lawyer from the defense’s council table.

Violet was stunned when Remy suddenly turned his head, looked over his shoulder, and locked eyes with her.

Her entire body shifted and responded to the eye contact in a manner so strong she stopped breathing.

The news of Jason’s death had spread like wildfire, as well as the story behind it. The suicide note the police found in his bedroom, confessing to Meredith’s murder, had been leaked weeks ago and, thankfully, the public outrage had all but forced an early trial.  People all over the country were horrified that Remy was still in jail, and Violet was one of them.  From where she still held Remy’s eyes, she could feel the eyes of her father, watching her, from where he and her family sat a few rows back.  She hadn’t spoken to him since the moment she’d broken free from the family home and, during a teary phone call with him the day of Jason’s death, she’d sworn on her grandmother’s grave that she would never speak to Chadrick Chambers again if Remy wasn’t acquitted.  She knew her father’s power in Redding, the friends he had in high places.  He’d gotten her off from conviction of any sort, and she knew his word would hold a lot of weight with Remy.

And her threat hadn’t been an empty one.  If Remy wasn’t acquitted, she would never speak to her father, again.

Violet had been granted the opportunity to see him almost every day behind bars, under the guise of doing a “story” for her news segment, but it wasn’t enough to look into his eyes through a thick coating glass, or hear his voice through a telephone with grainy audio. No matter how many TV shows, movies, or music videos she’d seen that said otherwise, touching your loved one’s hand through a bulletproof Plexiglas was not romantic.  In fact, it was easily the farthest thing from romantic in existence. It was painful, and had given life to a desperation for skin on skin contact with Remy that was terrifyingly real, almost paralyzing.

The colorful list of charges that’d been added to that of convicted murderer included grand theft auto and kidnapping, as well.  Violet was afraid that, even if Remy
was
cleared of Meredith’s murder, it didn’t necessarily mean he was free.  The grand theft auto, manslaughter, and kidnapping charges were valid, no matter how many times she, Barbara, or even, shockingly, the man from the boat, testified in his defense.

“He could’ve killed me, it would’ve been easy, but he didn’t.” 
The man from the boat had testified.

“He’s handsome,”
the soccer mom had, much to everyone’s embarrassment, gushed.

“I always knew he was innocent.  I always knew it! The system is broken!”
Barbara had been just as eccentric as always.

Still, Violet was afraid that it wasn’t enough.

She ached to touch him.  To climb over the two rows of pews that separated them, climb into his lap, and press her lips to his.

But she couldn’t.

She wondered if she ever would again.

She pushed that thought back quickly, and squeezed the hand of Remy’s mother, who sat weeping silently beside her.  They met eyes, and Violet took in her tired, milky skin and blue eyes for only a moment before she put her attention back on Remy, who had yet to look away from her.  No. Thinking about Remy being convicted was too terrifying.  It hurt her too much.  He had to be acquitted.  He just had to.

He smiled at her, and she was destroyed.

“Remington Archibald is a victim, I say!”

She and Remy were both startled to attention when the defense attorney’s voice rose to almost cartoonish proportions as he drove his point home, complete with dramatic jerks of his arms and body that had his perfectly gelled hair coming undone in his passion.

“All right, rein it in,” Violet mumbled, unable to help a smile.  Deep down, she was glad to know that she wasn’t the only one passionate about Remy’s freedom.

She’d proven to the world just how passionate she really was with the hour-long segment she’d done chronicling Remy’s trial, his friendship with Jason, and his innocence.

The taping of her special had taken a little under two weeks, and it had aired just the night before.  All across the country it pulled in viewership in record numbers, and came in at number one for online downloads the following morning. Violet felt like a giant.  Not because her dream had finally come true, but because she hadn’t done it for herself.  She’d done it for Remy, and it had worked.  The public was softened to him, they understood him, and they wanted to see him cleared.  The crowds outside the courthouse today were no longer calling for his head on a stick, but passionately demanding his release.

She’d done her part.  She’d swayed the public and helped them see Remy’s beautiful side, his human side.  The rest was up to the judge, the defense attorney, and the jury.

And, to her delight, this defense attorney definitely had the jury.  He knew it, too, which was why he was putting on this Academy Award worthy performance.

He had them.

He had Violet.

He had the entire world, most of whom were watching the trial in real time from their homes all across America.

There was no way in hell this jury was convicting Remy.

Violet was sure of it.

The defense finished it’s closing statement with one sentence.

“The right way—the
only
way—that this story should end, ladies and gentlemen, is with my client, the victim, Remington Jacob Archibald, being dismissed of all charges.”

***

Less than two days later, in a courtroom packed from wall to wall with family, press, and cameras, the judge slammed his mallet, and made it so.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby dismiss all charges against Remington Jacob Archibald--”

The courtroom erupted into cheers before the Judge could finish his sentence and Remy stood from his seat just in time to shake his lawyer’s hand and turn to Violet, who was racing passed the pew’s tiny swinging doors.  She jumped into Remy’s arms with a squeal, and with a fully healed leg, he caught her with ease.

Remy’s heart rate picked up tenfold when she wrapped her long legs around his waist and kissed him furiously.

Violet pulled away, and their tear-filled eyes locked, connecting quietly even amidst cheers and pats on the back that came at them from every angle.

The cheers only intensified when Remy produced a tiny black box from the back pocket of his suit, flipping it open as he held her body firmly to his.

Violet’s mouth dropped as she stared down at the cushion cut halo engagement ring.  Not too big, not to small, not at all flashy. He’d remembered. It was everything she’d ever wanted, and more.  The deafening screams in the courtroom pierced her ears, and she looked up from the ring just in time to see the tears in Remy’s eyes finally boil over.  She cupped his cheeks and caught them with her thumbs, fighting tears herself.

“V, will you marry me?”

She was already nodding wildly before he could even finish the question.  “Yes, yes, fuck yes!”

“Stop cussing,” he grumbled, even as he slid the ring on her finger and pulled her to him, kissing passionately.

They embraced in the same courtroom that he’d snatched her out of all those months ago, and Remy was thrilled that she was giving him the chance to rewrite their legacy.

Forever.

Epilogue

“Do we really have to do this now, V?” Remy’s eyebrows pulled together.  “I mean, right now?”

“I’m just so nervous for tomorrow. The very first taping of my very first television program? A television program that boasts
my
moniker?  With you as my first official guest? It has to be perfect.”

Remy closed his eyes and prayed for patience.  “Fine, go.”

She beamed. “Good afternoon, Mr. Archibald, I’d like to take a moment to thank you for joining us here at
Chambers Tonight
.  We’ve been eagerly anticipating your arrival.”

Remy’s attempt to remain professional and composed broke the moment Violet aimed her fisted hand at him.  He patted her fist as if he were testing a microphone, clearing his throat.  “Yep. Thank you.  Thank you for having me.”

“I’ll just jump right into the question on the entire country’s mind.”

“Please.”

“You were falsely convicted of murder...”

“Correct.”

“And, because of that, you decided to take a hostage--the beautiful, brilliant, clever, not-to-mention
stunning,
Violet Chambers, and fled the courthouse.”

“Hold on a second. I think you forgot stubborn, self-centered, impossible, and relentlessly bullheaded.” He bit his lip to keep from bursting into laughter at the sight of the smile on her face falling, rapidly replaced with a slow curl of her lip.  “But, yes, that is correct.  I snatched Violet Chambers.  I did what I had to do.”

“The question on everyone’s mind, Mr. Archibald… is if you could do it again, would you do it differently?  Would you leave Violet Chambers behind, and go it alone?  Or do you credit Violet with being the, very obvious, reason that you’re still alive-- and a free man--today?”

The smile on Remy’s face fell as an almost debilitating intensity spread through him.  Without a word, he pushed himself between her splayed legs, bracing his arms on either side of her on the king sized bed.  As he lay his naked chest against hers, he reached between their bodies to finish what they’d started, and guided his rock hard, pounding member inside her.

Violet instantly dropped the act, as well, her “microphone” fist clawing into his hair as he spread her open lovingly.

Remy clutched her jaw in his hand when she threw her head back, licking her exposed throat as he began an adamant thrust. He couldn’t stop emotional tears from filling his eyes as his silver wedding band glowed up at him from where it contrasted against her dewy brown skin.

“I wouldn’t do anything differently,” he whispered.  “Because I wasn’t alive until the day I met her.”

“Please, Remy.” Violet’s black hair fanned the pillow as he rocked her, already feeling her body tumbling over the glorious edge with an expedience only he could manage.

He saw her on the verge of losing control, eyes fluttered shut, head thrown back and lips parted as she entered another world, and he was taken.  “I love you, Violet.”

“I love you.”  She gasped.  “Please don’t stop.”

“I’ll never stop.”