by Brenda Novak
Virgil’s hands curled into fists, and Peyton quickly stepped between the two men. She had to defuse this situation right away.
“You need to calm down. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
He yanked on his tie, loosening it. “Yes, I do! I’ve told you what I can offer you. And I’m not just talking about a good living and professional success. You’re right—this isn’t all about our jobs. Would you really rather be with him than me? You’re that interested in screwing around with this murderer?”
Tension rolled off Virgil like a tsunami, making her fear where this might end. She grabbed his arm while she tried to placate Rick. “Let’s leave all the personal stuff out of this, okay? I called Virgil in here because I wanted to discuss Weston’s note. It’s his life on the line, not yours. He has a better feel for what’s happening, what the Hells Fury might do. He knows what to expect from gang members.” With her free hand, she gestured toward Weston’s note, which she’d set out on the desk before Virgil arrived. “I just wanted to show him what Jager gave me. See what he thought we should do. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She thought he’d rant about the risk of exposure and blowing the whole operation, but he didn’t. “So you figured you’d start by showing him a little titty?”
Virgil jerked away from her. “That’s enough!”
“Stay out of this,” Rick said. “You have nothing to do with it.”
“You’ll see how much I have to do with it if you keep this up.”
They circled Peyton while she struggled to keep them apart. “Look, you’re both acting…crazy, okay?”
“I’m not acting crazy at all,” Rick said. “I’ve asked you both not to let your personal feelings interfere with the operation.”
“But it’s okay if your personal feelings interfere?” Virgil said.
Rick turned to her. “You had no good reason to bring him in here. You didn’t need to discuss that note with him. I’d already told you what to do.”
She couldn’t claim he hadn’t been clear because he had. “I was gathering more information. I want to be sure we’re making the right decision.”
His gaze dropped and she realized that her top button was still unfastened, partially exposing her bra—and Virgil’s medallion. “So it’s dangerous men who excite you, Peyton? That’s the secret? You’d rather whore for prison trash than have a legitimate relationship with an upstanding citizen? How many of the others guys in this prison have you done?”
Virgil’s chains rattled as he tried to circumvent her, but Peyton grabbed him again. She didn’t think he’d have much trouble punishing Wallace, even with his sutures and his hands cuffed. It was the consequences he’d suffer that she hoped to avoid. “No,” she told Virgil. “Don’t you see what he’s doing?”
Once again, he jerked loose of her grasp, but he didn’t advance on Wallace. “Of course I see it. I’m not going to hurt the little prick, even though he deserves it. What I am going to do is give him exactly what he wants.”
This seemed to surprise Rick. “Which is what?”
“The man who ordered the hit on Judge Garcia. And I’ll do it without making any deals with Weston Jager.”
That slowed Rick down. “Even if he can help you get inside?” he asked.
“If we trust him, it’s all over.”
“You can get in on your own?”
“That was the plan from the beginning, wasn’t it? I’m making progress with Buzz. I’ll get you the evidence to bust the HF for that judge’s murder. All you have to do is keep Laurel and the kids safe and leave Peyton alone.”
Rick gave him a dirty look. “Peyton is none of your affair.”
“Then unlock these.” Virgil held out his cuffed wrists. “I’ll find another way to protect Laurel and start a new life.”
Peyton was hoping Virgil would quit the operation. She reached into her briefcase and got the key, but Wallace stopped her. He’d already lost his marriage. He had to realize by now that he wasn’t going to get her. Why not hang on to what he’d originally hoped to accomplish with Operation Inside? Considering how much he cared about his career, that was better than nothing.
“Fine.” He shoved a hand through his hair, standing it upright, which made him look as crazy as he’d been acting. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s…let’s not be too hasty. We need to think this through.”
“I don’t need to think it through,” Virgil said. “I know what I want.”
Rick gestured to Peyton. “And what you want includes her.”
“If you can’t accept that, say so now, and we’ll make changes.”
A tense silence gripped the room. Virgil and Rick glared at each other; Peyton waited, holding her breath.
Finally Rick stretched the muscles in his neck as if he had a headache. “No, let’s finish it. That’s all we can do at this point.”
Virgil wasn’t quite so quick to agree. “There’ll be no second chances. You do or say anything to Peyton that I don’t like, and it’s over, you understand? I may be prison trash but I take care of my own.”
“If you think your relationship with her will last, you’re deluded,” Rick scoffed.
Virgil glanced at her. She detected a trace of uncertainty—he feared Rick was right—but he was determined not to betray how he felt. “You let me worry about that.”
“So we leave Weston in the SHU?” Rick clarified.
“That’s exactly what we do.”
The associate director smiled as if he couldn’t wait for everything to blow up in their faces. “Fine. Have it your way.”
Virgil grinned back at him but there wasn’t an ounce of amiability in it. “That’s how I like it.”
“Don’t be too sure of yourself,” Rick warned. “Your pals in The Crew tracked Eddie Glover down and shot him three times.”
Virgil’s muscles went taut. “No…”
“I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Is he dead?” His voice sounded strangled.
“No. He’s going to make it.”
“Then The Crew must know where Virgil is,” Peyton said. “And you were aware of it.”
Rick lifted a hand as if asking her not to leap to conclusions. “Eddie swears he didn’t tell them where you are.”
“Then he didn’t,” Virgil said. “He wouldn’t hang me out to dry.”
Rick didn’t back off. “But there’s something else you should know.”
“And that is…?” With his eyelids half-closed, Virgil’s expression revealed the contempt he felt for Rick.
“The Crew found your sister, too. Last night.”
Virgil’s face went blank. He didn’t move. He made no sound. And yet Peyton could sense the intensity of his reaction.
“Are Laurel and the kids okay?” She was afraid of what Virgil would do if they weren’t.
“They’re a little shaken up but otherwise fine,” Rick said. “I wish I could say the same for the U.S. marshal who was with her.”
Peyton’s stomach knotted. “He’s dead?”
Rick’s eyes grew even cooler when they shifted to her. He seemed to feel she’d let him down, that she’d owed him some debt of gratitude and commitment just because he’d wanted her. “That’s right.” And because he knew it would upset her, he seemed almost happy to add, “They slit his throat.”
This was exactly the type of thing Peyton had feared. She covered her mouth as she tried to absorb this news.
Virgil’s nostrils flared. “You’re sure Laurel and the kids got away? Because if you’re lying to me—”
Wallace pulled out his cell phone and showed Virgil the text he’d received. “See for yourself. They’ve been moved out of Colorado and are in protective custody again.”
Virgil stared at the floor for several seconds before speaking. “How’d they get away?”
“There were three men who came to the house. One ended up turning on the others.”
Confusion drew his eyebrows together. “Who turned?”
>
“You can’t guess? You were one of them.”
Virgil didn’t appreciate Wallace’s smirk. “I don’t even know who was there.”
“Pretty Boy, Pointblank and Ink. You recognize them by their nicknames, don’t you?”
“Pretty Boy.”
“That’s right. He told Laurel he was your best friend.” Rick looked at Peyton. “You have yourself quite a man here. He keeps company with the crème de la crème.”
“Are you trying to completely ruin my opinion of you?” she muttered.
“Why not?” he replied. “You’ve ruined mine of you.”
If Virgil heard their exchange, he didn’t react to it. Was he regretting his decision to leave The Crew? Was he tempted to put an end to all of this by returning to the gang? Had Rick convinced him that he was reaching too far by wanting more than he had, by wanting her?
Virgil was so hard to read; it was difficult to say. But Peyton knew she ran the risk of losing him to The Crew as much as anything else. He was a good man, but he was still a product of his past. Changing his life that drastically was almost impossible. Everyone he knew, everything he’d done, even the people he met now—people like Rick who judged him by his past—worked, like gravity, to hold him in place. And if he went back, those he loved would no longer be at risk. That had to be the biggest draw of all.
“Where’s Pretty Boy?” he asked.
“If we knew that, we’d have him arrested,” Rick said.
A muscle jumped in Virgil’s cheek. “For saving Laurel’s life?”
“For killing the marshal.”
Virgil stared down his nose at the smaller man. “Too bad you weren’t still standing guard.”
His meaning was too clear to miss. Rick’s cheeks grew mottled. “Pardon me?”
Virgil didn’t bother repeating it. “What about Pointblank and Ink?”
Rick’s voice was sulky. “Pointblank’s dead. Ink’s in the ICU, with two police officers guarding him.”
His mind filled with God knew what, Virgil squared his shoulders. “Does it look as if Ink will recover?”
How much did he care about Ink? Peyton wondered. And what about Pointblank, who’d died? Those men had been his friends. What he was feeling couldn’t be pleasant. People he’d once cared about had shot someone named Eddie, who seemed important to him, and tried to do the same to his sister. The casualties were mounting….
“Who can say?” Wallace replied. “Right now he’s hanging on by a thread.” To add more emphasis to what he was about to say, he stepped closer. “So does this change where we’re at? Do you still want to play it without bringing Weston Jager into our confidence?”
Peyton didn’t appreciate the challenge in his tone. “Wait a second. You can’t expect him to go back inside after learning that Eddie—”
“Eddie didn’t tell them,” Virgil interrupted. “And if I give up now, Eddie’s pain, my sister’s fear, that fight in the dining hall, what Pretty Boy did…it’ll all be for nothing.”
“But even if Weston didn’t know about you before, he probably does now,” Peyton argued. “Maybe Eddie didn’t tell them but they found your sister somehow. There has to be a leak.”
“It’s a gamble we’ve got to take.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. The odds have gotten worse. Much worse.”
He brushed off her concern. “I’ll just have to be more convincing.” Chains rattling, he gestured toward the phone with his cuffed hands. “Call for an escort. I’m going to my cell.”
It wasn’t easy to concentrate. Virgil was playing chess with Buzz on the tier, trying to keep up appearances, but his wound hurt and his mind kept returning to Peyton and what had occurred in that conference room. He had so much to worry about—and yet she overshadowed it all. Was Rick Wallace right? Would he be able to keep her? Considering their circumstances, he had little faith in that, and yet…he couldn’t stop wanting her, couldn’t stop hoping.
At least thinking about her helped him escape the guilt that plagued him. Pretty Boy had done him the biggest favor in the world, had saved the people he loved most, and by doing so had put himself in a terrible position—all for the sake of a friendship Virgil couldn’t even maintain. Where had Rex gone after leaving the safe house? He didn’t have anywhere to go, did he? He couldn’t go back to The Crew. They’d be looking to put a bullet in him.
I’ve made a mess of the lives of everyone around me, everyone I care about. But there was no way to tear himself from the fabric of The Crew without making a hole. Had he been wrong to accept the government’s offer? He’d justified it by telling himself he should put Laurel ahead of his brothers in The Crew. He’d never believed in their ideology. He didn’t want to be like them or continue to associate with them. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care about certain members. Pretty Boy had been part of his life for fourteen years, Pointblank for six. It wasn’t as if he saw them as bad people. In prison the line between good and evil blurred too much, especially in that length of time.
He’d believed that certain sacrifices would be worth the reward waiting on the other side, or he wouldn’t have done it. Now he wasn’t sure he or Laurel or Rex would even make it to the other side. By grasping for a better future, he’d let his loved ones down. And they deserved more. Rex was just as decent as Eddie, only he came from a shitty family that had basically driven him away, and he’d fallen in with a gang instead of going to college and getting a job.
Virgil pictured Peyton again. Would he let her down, too? At the very least, he suspected Rick Wallace might go after her job because of him.
He should’ve left her alone. He’d known that all along. But just the taste of her made him feel drunk….
“Hey, you gonna move or not?” Buzz asked.
Did he care about the game? No. Buzz wasn’t much of a challenge. But goaded into action, he slid his queen down the diagonal and took Buzz’s rook. “Oh, great. Thanks.”
Virgil had no sympathy for him. He couldn’t allow himself to like his cell mate or anyone else he met inside Pelican Bay, couldn’t form any bonds. He’d already learned that lesson the hard way by growing attached to people he’d had to turn his back on. “You don’t want me to take it? Protect it.”
His cell mate slid his own queen over to shield his bishop. “Someone’s in a piss-poor mood.”
“How do you know I’m not normally like this?”
“Because you weren’t like this last night, even after the fight.”
“Maybe I like to fight.”
“Four on one? You’re jokin’, right?”
“Nope.” Virgil summoned a cocky grin, but it was all a front. He was feeling worse by the minute, could feel rivulets of sweat pouring down his back.
Buzz shook his head. “Dude, you’re crazy.”
Several members of the Nuestra Family hung out on the fringes of the tables, eyeing them and talking in loud voices. “One-on-one, he would’ve pounded all their asses!”
“I’d like to see him go at it with Whitehead himself.”
“If he was smart he’d clique up with us, you hear what I’m sayin’? This here’s a gang that can appreciate that kind of talent.”
“You’re not listenin’ to them, are you?” Buzz grumbled. “That bullshit you were spoutin’ before, you wouldn’t really consider it.”
Virgil shrugged. “I’ll consider whatever serves my purposes.” Knowing the HF already suspected him made it impossible to act interested in joining them. His only choice was to play hard to get, to force them to pursue him. If they would. This route would take more time than he’d hoped to be inside this hellhole. But from what Virgil could see, the only way to convince the HF that he was legit was to turn away the very thing they’d expect him to want.
Buzz lowered his voice. “I told you. I’m gonna talk to Westy. I’m gonna get you in.”
Fortunately, Buzz didn’t seem to be as suspicious of him as Weston was. That gave Virgil hope. “Westy’s in the SHU, man.”
“Don’t matter. I’ll get a message to him. Or Detric. Deech is the one who’ll decide, anyway.”
“How will you communicate with him? He’s in the SHU, too.”
His eyes flicked to two guards who were talking in the corner. “How do you think? I’ll hire a little help.”
Virgil needed to learn which guards could be trusted and by whom, so he ignored the growing pain in his gut and paid close attention. “Those guys will help you out?”
“For the right price. They don’t do it ’cause they like us.”
Since they weren’t close enough for him to read name tags, Virgil memorized their faces. “Good to know, in case I change my mind.”
“So you’re interested?”
“Not right now.”
Buzz’s face fell. “What? You can’t be serious! You’re gonna need a posse in here. So what if you can fight? No one wants to be friendless.”
“If you think I’m willing to stab guys for the Hells Fury you’re crazier than I am.”
“It’s better than stabbin’ guys for the NF! You said you like to fight.”
“I like to fight when I have a reason.”
He leaned forward. “Look, I know you’re no green recruit. You’ve got experience, and you’ll be treated with respect.”
Virgil allowed his surprise to show. “What does that mean?”
“It means you won’t be a grunt.”
“No initiation?”
“I’m not sure about that, but I’ll suggest it. I’ll see what I can do.”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’ll suggest it? Talk to me when you’ve got some authority. Maybe then I’ll consider what the hell you’re offering. By the way, you suck at chess. I’m done with this.” Leaving the game half-finished, he got up and went back to his cell. He needed to lie down, was afraid he’d pass out if he didn’t. The doctor had told him to rest, but he’d done the opposite. He’d had no choice, not this afternoon. He had to come across as if he was impervious to pain and injury. That was part of the psychological warfare he hoped would ultimately keep injuries to a minimum—especially his.
Someone was coming up behind him—he could hear footsteps—but whoever it was didn’t move fast, so he didn’t turn. He didn’t want to act paranoid. With the stories circulating about him, he didn’t think anyone else would be willing to take him on. At least, he hoped not—because if someone attacked him now, there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do to save himself. He’d never felt so weak. The shank he’d taken to the gut had shocked his system and he couldn’t seem to recover….
