by Brenda Novak
Like Peyton, Laurel was relieved that Virgil was out of the prison mostly in one piece. At least, she sounded that way. Probably because if he healed as well as expected, she might get to see him soon. Peyton was now confident he would heal. Her discussions with his doctor, at noon and again at three, had reassured her. She’d been told he was responding very quickly to the antibiotics. He should be fine in a few days—provided they were able to keep The Crew and the Hells Fury away from him.
If Virgil entered WITSEC, Peyton had no idea what it would mean for her. Despite her teasing about marriage, she didn’t know him well enough to make any permanent decisions. She needed to figure out what she was willing to sacrifice and what she wasn’t. And yet, if he moved on without her, she was quite certain that would be the end of their relationship. He’d experienced too many terrible things in his life to believe something as good as what they felt for each other could survive. She could easily see him treasuring their brief time and yet letting it go. He’d justify that in his own mind by saying he didn’t want to risk ruining the memories they’d created. There were so many questions that had to be answered. About her and Virgil. About her job, too. She’d confessed her involvement with Virgil to Fischer. The warden had been careful to reserve judgment, had merely told her to take the next two weeks off as paid vacation. He said she needed the rest. But she knew it was because he wanted some time to reflect on her behavior and decide whether or not it warranted a reprimand.
And then there were the less personal questions, not the least of which was how The Crew had managed to find Virgil, especially so fast. No one was supposed to know where he was. Even Fischer hadn’t been told his real name and true background, not until today. There had to be someone inside the department who’d leaked the truth. How else would they have found him—and Laurel, too?
Although Rick Wallace hadn’t been too concerned about ferreting out the identity of their traitor, she definitely wanted to see the department pursue an investigation. Whoever had assisted The Crew was guilty of almost getting Laurel, her children and Virgil killed. And they had caused other deaths. A U.S. marshal and one Crew member were dead, with another on life support.
She thought Rex McCready might have information that could help explain everything. Too bad after all those calls to the warden yesterday, he hadn’t called back. But she’d worry about all of that and the rest of it later. Right now the most pressing thing on her mind was seeing Virgil again. He hadn’t been happy that she’d left him when she said she wouldn’t. He’d just threatened to walk out of the hospital if she didn’t return immediately. But she’d already planned to go back there as soon as she’d cleared off her desk.
Stifling a yawn, she glanced at the clock on the dash. Not quite five. She’d managed to get away early, which was good. She didn’t want to miss dinner with Virgil and still had to stop by her house to change. She also needed to pack an overnight bag, since she’d be spending the night. Fortunately, she’d have tomorrow to recover lost sleep. Her vacation started immediately.
Maybe she’d go with Virgil when he left Crescent City, at least until her vacation ended. Two weeks might tell them both what they needed to know….
Turning up the music, she began to sing along. On the whole, life was looking up. There’d been no incidents at the hospital today to make her fear The Crew would try to reach Virgil before they could get him away. Nothing of note had happened at the prison, either. Virgil would be well soon and then he’d go somewhere his past would never catch up with him.
And, for two weeks, they’d be together.
With that happy thought in mind, she turned into her drive, left her purse in the passenger seat since she was coming right back and hurried up to pack and change.
“Now’s our chance,” Shady said. They’d parked down the street on a dirt road off the highway, but they’d already passed the cabin where the woman they’d been following had turned in and knew where it was.
“I’ll wait here, keep a lookout,” Meeks said as Shady got out.
Shady jerked around to face him. “What’d you say?”
“This is your deal, man. I’ll help you kill Skin, and I’ll help you kill Pretty Boy. They broke their oath to the gang, and they deserve to be punished. I’ll even get your back while you’re inside. But I don’t do women.”
What was this? More pussy talk like, Have some patience…calm down…let’s think about it? He’d been right when he said Meeks had lost his edge. The guy was as weak and pathetic as those Hells Fury fuck-ups who’d ruined their opportunity to finish Skin off. But why argue? If he was going to do this, he might as well do it while he had a good buzz going.
“Fine. I don’t need you.”
Meeks called him back. “What about this?” He held out one of the guns they’d hidden under the seat. But Shady didn’t plan on using a gun. A gun made it too fast and easy on the victim. This was for Virgil, which meant it had to be special.
“Everything I need is right here,” he said, and took the knife from the sheath he kept strapped to one calf.
“But there’s no one out here to hear the shot. You could use a gun, no problem.”
“I’d rather slit her throat.”
It wasn’t easy to climb the stairs to the chief deputy warden’s door without making any noise. The deck had a tendency to creak, but the wind was blowing, which set her wind chimes dancing. He took each step slowly, listening for any sounds beyond the tinkle of those chimes, and knew she hadn’t noticed anything wrong when he found the door slightly ajar.
A wall of windows made it plain that she wasn’t in the central kitchen, dining or living room area. She’d probably gone to her bedroom to change.
If that was the case, he figured he might as well let her know there wasn’t any reason to get dressed.
Every minute seemed like an hour while Virgil was waiting for Peyton. Although he’d spent the day sleeping, too out of it to think much about anything, ever since she’d called to tell him she was on her way, and he knew she was leaving the protection of the prison, he’d been nervous. She didn’t understand what The Crew was capable of, how determined Shady would be….
Adjusting his bed so he could reach the phone, he called her cell. But she didn’t pick up.
When she didn’t answer his second attempt or his third, he began to worry even more. She knew how concerned he was. Why wasn’t she answering?
Was it because she couldn’t?
Just the thought of Shady getting his hands on her sent terror charging through him. He didn’t want to cause the destruction of the one beautiful thing he’d found in his life. That was the reason he’d been so hesitant to get involved with her. He didn’t want to taint who or what she was, didn’t want to drag her down with him if The Crew ever found him.
He was about to call the police and ask them to look for her, or try to send the officers at his door, when the phone on the table beside him rang. Assuming it had to be her, he relaxed and answered, but the person on the other end of the line wasn’t Peyton.
“Skin?”
Pretty Boy. Virgil couldn’t believe it. When he’d left Florence, he’d prepared himself never to hear from his best friend again. But he should’ve known it couldn’t end that way. “Hey, man. How are you?”
“I’m surviving. You?”
“I’m still around.”
“I hear you’re in a bad way.”
“Not so bad anymore. Where are you?”
“Here in Crescent City.” He groaned. “Only you could make me drive those winding roads for hours on end. I had to pull over and throw up twice.”
“What a kid,” he teased.
“I came to help. I’m not sure what I can do, but when the damn warden wouldn’t take my calls I just kept driving. Next thing I knew…here I was. I figured maybe I’d show up on his doorstep, make the bastard listen. But everything went down before I could get here.”
“It was close there for a second. So…how’d you find me?
How’d you learn I was in the hospital?”
“The whole town knows you’re in the hospital. What happened at the prison is on the front page of the Daily Triplicate. Article says you, going by the name ‘Simeon Bennett,’ and a C.O. were in an ‘altercation’ last night and that you’re now in intensive care under armed guard. Intensive care,” he repeated. “I read that shit and I thought maybe you weren’t going to make it.”
“So you just called me up.”
“I wasn’t sure what name you were admitted under, so I told the operator, ‘That guy who almost got killed at the prison last night.’”
“And she put you through?” Virgil asked with a laugh.
“I told her I was your brother.”
Until now, Virgil hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed Rex. God, it was great to hear his voice, to feel his support. Rex had pulled him through those early years in prison. Their friendship had made the past fourteen years worth living. “I owe you for what you did for Laurel and her kids.”
“Don’t mention it. I never liked Ink, anyway.”
But he’d liked Pointblank. He was trying to shrug it off, but Virgil knew what protecting Laurel had cost him. His entire life had changed. “You gonna be okay without The Crew?”
“I don’t need The Crew. I’ve got you, right?”
Virgil grinned. “Yeah, you got me.”
“Good. Then it won’t be so fuckin’ lonely anymore. I’d come see ya right now, but those armed guards sound a bit off-putting. I wouldn’t want to have to kill them, you know? That wouldn’t be in keeping with my new stand-up life.”
“No need to get yourself in trouble. I’ll be out of here soon enough. We’ll catch up then.” His thoughts returned to Peyton and the worry simmering in his gut. “But could you do me a favor while you’re here?”
“Anything.”
“You got a car, right?” He had to have some type of transportation; he’d mentioned driving. “I have borrowed a vehicle, yes, Mr. Skinner.”
Virgil couldn’t help laughing. Stealing a car was a hell of a way to go legit, but he knew Rex didn’t have many options, and if he gave the car back when he was done with it, maybe they wouldn’t add that to the list of charges against him if he was caught. What he’d done at the safe house had been done to protect a woman and two children. If he wasn’t the one who killed the marshal, he could probably clear up his legal troubles without having to serve too much time.
“My…woman hasn’t shown up here and I’m getting worried that—”
“Your woman?” he interrupted. “Damn, you move fast.”
“Just making up for lost time. Will you check on her for me?” he asked, and gave Rex directions to Peyton’s house.
32
Peyton wasn’t sure exactly what drew her attention. One minute she was happily stuffing a change of clothes into a small overnight case, eager and excited to see Virgil. The next she felt a trickle of fear slide down her spine like a cold, wet hand, leaving goose bumps in its wake. It might’ve been a creak or a rustle that didn’t sound like the usual settling noises. Whatever set her off hadn’t been big because she couldn’t identify it. She just had the impression that she was no longer alone.
Standing over the bag she’d been packing, she listened more carefully. She was imagining things, wasn’t she? Virgil had been frightened for her, hadn’t wanted her to be out by herself. But surely The Crew wouldn’t be able to find out where she lived and come after her this fast.
Or maybe they could….
She glanced at the bed, the nightstand, the floor, searching for her cell phone, even patted the pockets of the jeans she’d just pulled on before remembering—she’d left it in her purse out in the Volvo. At least she had the home phone. She hurried around the bed to the nightstand and dialed 9-1-1, but before the operator could come on, footsteps, moving on the floor above her, nearly made her pee her pants. She didn’t want to be trapped in her bedroom, with nowhere to run and no way to defend herself. There wasn’t even a door to the outside down here, or a window that opened. She’d either have to break the glass overlooking the sea and figure out how to scramble through it, or she’d have to get out the way she’d gotten in—by the stairs.
Then she heard a different sound, this one much closer, and realized the stairs weren’t an option. Someone was already coming down them. She could see a man’s tennis shoes and denim-covered legs just before a tatted hand came into view gripping a giant knife.
“Emergency Services. Can you give me the nature of your emergency, please?”
She gulped for enough air to be able to talk. “There’s a man in my house!” she screamed.
The second he found her, Shady grabbed the handrail and used it to support himself so he could jump the rest of the stairs. He was hoping to reach the chief deputy before she could get the door shut, but he didn’t make it. Dropping the phone, she darted forward and managed to slam and lock the door as he landed. Which only enraged him. Now he wanted to kill her just for trying to resist. And he would. He had her cornered. All he had to do was get through one flimsy barrier.
“Hey, Virgil sent you a surprise,” he called out. “He wants me to show you what it feels like to be raped in the ass like some of those stupid bastards in that prison you run.” He’d been one of those bastards once. Years ago. The “jocker” who’d used him actually looked a lot like Virgil, but the similarities ended there. Shady had never known Virgil to have a homosexual relationship. Somehow, he’d always managed to defend himself even though he’d gone to prison at a younger age than Shady had, and that made Shady hate him all the more.
Spurred on by his desire to outdistance those memories, he hit the door again. This bitch thought she could keep him out? She was crazy. He’d get in. The door was already beginning to splinter. She didn’t understand who she was dealing with, didn’t know that he was obliterating Virgil when he obliterated her. And, fortunately, he could batter the door all day because he didn’t feel any pain.
“The police are on their way!” she shouted. “Get out of here—unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison.”
Briefly, his mind flashed back to Where the Red Fern Grows, a book given to him by his fifth-grade teacher and probably the only one he’d ever read from start to finish. In it, the boy caught a raccoon by putting a shiny piece of tin or something—he couldn’t remember exactly what—in a homemade trap. When the raccoon reached in to take the object, he couldn’t get his hand out. The animal could escape if he let go of what he wanted, but he wouldn’t….
Was he making the same mistake? Maybe. But he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he walked away at this point; his self-esteem couldn’t tolerate such a defeat.
Lowering his shoulder, he crashed into the door yet again and heard a loud pop as it gave way.
When Rex found Peyton’s cabin, her car was parked in the drive. Everything looked fine. Skin was probably worried about nothing. But as long as he was here, he might as well let her know that Virgil was concerned about her, that he’d been trying to reach her. Maybe her cell phone had died and she’d forgotten to charge it….
He pulled in behind her car and got out. But just as he reached the stairs, he heard a woman scream from inside.
Son of bitch! Yanking his gun from the waistband of his jeans, he took the steps two at a time. But before he could get to the landing, a gunshot rang out from the forest.
Shocked, he crouched low and peered through the slats of the handrail, hoping to see who was out there, when another shot went off. And this time he felt a searing pain in his chest and the hand that held his gun went numb.
Two gunshots sounded outside, seconds apart, making Peyton wonder if she really wanted to escape the house. What was going on? Were the police having a standoff with The Crew? If so, she didn’t want to walk into the middle of it. She couldn’t get out, anyway. She’d thrown everything she could at the window with little success. Anyone who was here to help her would have to come
inside. She’d managed to crack the safety glass in a few places by swinging a lamp at it, but she hadn’t had enough time to actually make a hole.
She still held the lamp—which was her only weapon—but as soon as the door broke open she had to turn and face her intruder. It was Shady, The Crew leader Virgil had told her about. His name was tattooed on his arm.
Although briefly tempted to make a mad dash for the small bathroom attached to her bedroom, that door didn’t have a lock. It wouldn’t take a man more than a few seconds to force it open. And if she allowed him to corner her in there, she’d have no room to maneuver, wouldn’t even be able to swing the lamp. Her only hope was to get around him and up the stairs—but she couldn’t imagine how she’d do that when he stood in the doorway, blocking her path.
“What a pleasant surprise.” He gave her an appreciative smile. “You’re not butt-ugly, after all.”
Chest heaving with fear and adrenaline, she held the lamp at the ready. “Stay away from me!”
“Leave it to Virgil to get himself a piece of that.” He licked his lips as he looked her up and down. “You can’t say he doesn’t have good taste.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not puttin’ out for Skin?”
She couldn’t admit to the relationship. “No, of course not! You’re wasting your time.”
He waved toward her chest. “Then why you wearin’ his coin?”
The medallion! That The Crew might recognize its significance hadn’t even crossed her mind. She normally wore it under her clothes, but when she changed she’d pulled it out over her turtleneck sweater. “He gave it to me as a…a bribe.”
