“Did she understand what you were going through with your husband?”
“Not really. I tried to talk to her, but she’d always gloss over it by telling me some men were more possessive than others. She said at least I had one who earned a decent living and wanted to be a good father. Bottom line, she didn’t care, didn’t want me to become her problem. That wouldn’t have gone over very well with Terry, her latest boyfriend, who didn’t want anything to do with me or Virgil.”
He must’ve realized he’d left the milk on the counter because he got up and poured them each a glass. “She sounds very childish and selfish.”
“She was.” As much as Vivian wanted to remember her in a more positive light, she had to be honest enough to admit that.
“So what happened? How’d you get by?” He nodded for her to start eating while they talked, and she did her best to take a few bites.
“There was a woman by the name of Kate Shumley who ran a woman’s shelter in Tucson, Arizona. I’d driven there, hoping to eventually make my way to Colorado, where they’d moved Virgil, but couldn’t go any farther. I had no more money for gas, no money to feed my kids. I’d hoped to get a job, had looked in every major city we passed through, but no one would hire me because I didn’t have a permanent address. So I managed to find this shelter, and Kate took me in. With a state grant, she eventually paid for me to relocate to Colorado, where I’d wanted to go in the first place.”
He added some Tabasco sauce to his omelet. “That was nice of her.”
“A man had called the shelter, looking for me. She guessed it was a P.I., someone Tom had hired, and was afraid he’d figured out where I’d gone.” She found she was enjoying the omelet; it tasted much better than she’d expected.
“How did Colorado work out?”
“Just being close to my brother helped. Especially because I’d been in touch with an organization called Innocent America, based in L.A., which was working to free him. The state had no forensic evidence. A jury had convicted Virgil on circumstantial evidence alone. Still, I didn’t have high hopes that we’d be able to get him out, but they were trying, searching for evidence to prove it was—or could have been—someone else. Then my aunt
came forward, and they had what they needed.” She took a drink of her milk. “I thought the worst was over, that Virgil and I would finally get to build new lives.”
“But your brother had joined a prison gang and they weren’t willing to let him go.”
“That makes him sound rebellious or irresponsible,” she said with a grimace. “Or even stupid. But he didn’t have any choice. He wouldn’t have survived prison if he hadn’t joined one gang or another. He was getting into a fight almost every day.”
“There’s always a price to be paid for safety.”
“Yes, and he knew too much. They were afraid of what he might tell the authorities. Not only that, but once you join, you’re in for life. If you try to leave, and they can’t get to you, they go after your family.”
Myles had already finished his omelet and pushed away his plate. “So you had to run and hide again.”
“Only this time I had the government’s protection. Virgil made a deal with them. If they’d put me in WitSec, he’d go undercover to help them bust another gang that was taking over Pelican Bay. He’d just come out of prison, so he was believable in the part. And he had the motivation.”
“When was this?”
“Four years ago.”
“He was trying to save your life.”
“And my children’s.”
“It sounds rather opportunistic of the government.”
She swallowed another bite. “The gang problem was getting so bad they were beginning to panic. They considered it a win-win.”
“But they were gambling with his life!”
“Yes.”
“I take it he came through.”
“It didn’t go as smoothly as we would’ve liked, but he did what he could. A lot of bangers in both groups—the Hell’s Fury and The Crew—were brought up on new charges through his efforts.”
He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “So is anyone from the Hell’s Fury after you?”
“I’m sure they’d love to find us. But it’s The Crew that’s been the most determined and successful. For them, what Virgil did was a personal affront. They’re the ones who knew him so well, who’d basically lived with him as a brother for fourteen years. And when he left, Rex eventually went with him. That didn’t go over too well with The Crew, either. The familiarity they have with both men has given The Crew an advantage.”
“They managed to track you down, even in WitSec?”
“That’s why we left D.C. two years ago.”
He drained his glass. “How do you think they did that?”
“They had to have had someone on the inside or someone with access to insider information.”
He nodded, then motioned for her to continue eating, and she dutifully raised her fork to force down a few more bites.
“So how well do you know the guy who’s coming after you?” he asked. “Ink?”
“Well enough to know he’s the most dangerous,
deranged
individual I’ve ever met.”
“Are you the one who shot him?”
“No, that was Rex, but Ink blames me because Rex did it to save me.”
“Did Mia see it?”
“Yes.”
He cursed under his breath. “Poor thing.” He leaned closer. “I guess you never really know who your neighbors are, do you?”
The conversation had been so serious it took her a few seconds to realize he was joking. “No. What dark secrets are
you
hiding?”
His mouth slanted to the left. “I’ll never tell.”
“Tell me about your family, then.”
“What about them?”
“Are your parents alive?”
“Yes.”
“And where are your siblings?”
“I have only one brother. He’s in Arizona, too.”
“How often do you see him?”
“Once or twice a year.”
She remembered Myles and Marley packing up for vacation last summer. They’d gone to Disneyland for a few days but spent at least a week with his family. Marley had told her all about it when she’d come over to babysit Mia and Jake for a couple of hours one afternoon. Marley had also stayed with her maternal relatives at the end of the summer, and Myles had been home alone. Vivian had definitely noticed that. It was probably about the time he’d first begun to return her interest.
“Here, I’ll take that.”
Somehow, she’d managed to eat all her food. And she actually felt better because of it. “Thanks. It tasted great.”
He took her plate to the sink. “Make yourself comfortable while I change the sheets on Marley’s bed, okay?”
After he’d rinsed off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, he headed upstairs.
Vivian tried to wait, but she was so full and so sleepy
she couldn’t keep her eyes open another second. She wandered into the living room, where she sat on the couch, and the next thing she knew Myles was carrying her up the stairs.
H
e’d found her. At last. After all the months of sitting in prison and planning this moment, it had arrived.
Ink almost couldn’t believe his good fortune. Her house was right there, just like L.J. had been told.
But that wasn’t all he saw. Ink knew he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed when L.J. grabbed his arm and motioned to the house next door. “Look, a cop!”
A cruiser sat in the driveway. But Ink wasn’t worried about it. There was no one inside. The cop who normally drove it wasn’t even on duty. He had to be in his house, asleep, like the other neighbors on the street. “He probably lives there. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” L.J. looked as if he was about to have a heart attack. “This is crazy, man!”
“Stop! He won’t even know we’re around.”
The kid was so nervous he kept glancing behind them, shifting from foot to foot, sighing aloud or doing any number of other irritating things, like hocking a loogie every five seconds. Ink was about to tell him to go wait in the truck, which they’d hidden behind some trees part-way around the lake. He didn’t want L.J. to ruin his victory. But he needed a wingman, someone to help if the situation got out of control, especially with a cop possibly
living next door. He didn’t want to risk getting caught before his revenge was complete. He still had Virgil and Rex on his list.
Fortunately, he wasn’t too worried that he’d run into problems. If he played it smart, he’d be in and out of her house without creating a disturbance, and be long gone by morning. It wasn’t as if she lived all that close to her neighbors. The cop wasn’t far away, but the other three homes were strung out like pearls falling from a broken necklace—like that one of his mother’s he’d once broken, on purpose.
She’d been so sorry to lose that strand of pearls…?.
Remembering her tears, he smiled. He’d kept a handful of those milky-white globes in his pocket for days, so he could reach in and touch them whenever he wanted. They’d been a gift from her father, all she had from him, and he’d taken that away from her.
He was going to take more than a string of pearls from Laurel, although he liked the idea of using a necklace to choke her. He could creep into her room and find something like that, the belt of a robe or a pair of panty hose, maybe. She’d wake up when he slipped it around her neck, but she’d be disoriented and groggy and, before she was lucid, he’d yank the necklace or belt so tight she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Her eyes would fly open and show him the terror he wanted to see.
Then he’d tear the clothes from her body…?.
Imagining her utterly and completely at his mercy, unable to even scream, sent a shudder of pleasure through him as powerful as any climax he’d ever experienced. Sex had never been easy for him. He’d never felt what he was supposed to feel—no tenderness, no sense of connection, no relief of tension, ever. Violence, on the
other hand, came as naturally as breathing. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get his first boner since the shooting. That would be fitting, wouldn’t it? He’d punish Laurel for crippling him by tying her legs apart and raping her.
Nothing but the best for Virgil’s sister.
And if he couldn’t get an erection, he could be creative, use the most painful objects he could find. One way or another, he’d be satisfied, and she’d be sorry.
Sorry she ever met him.
Sorry she’d tried to defy him.
Sorry she’d ever been born.
Drawing a deep breath so he could handle the excitement, he gazed at the stillness of the lake gleaming like a mirror beneath the half-moon overhead. He’d tossed the electric can opener he’d used to bludgeon the old guy into the lake, but he didn’t let that bother him. He wouldn’t let anything ruin this moment. Not only did he finally have Laurel, she was the key to all the rest. The key to finding Virgil, who thought he was so damn great. And the key to finding Rex, who owed him more than any of the others.
“Come on, man, let’s get this over with,” L.J. muttered.
Ink nearly whirled on him. “Shut up! You’re not going to ruin this for me, you hear?”
Scowling, L.J. backed up a step. “What’s wrong with you? We’re in a hurry. She lives next door to a cop, man. Why else would that cruiser be there? We need to get this over with.”
“I don’t want to get it over with. I want to take my time.”
“Oh, my God, you’re loving every second.”
There was that disgust again. It infuriated Ink. L.J.
had no right to make him feel inferior. L.J. was just a kid; he could never do all the things Ink had been able to accomplish.
But Laurel and her children came first. “Damn right,” he said from between gritted teeth, “and it only gets better from here.”
Whispering for L.J. to stand guard at the front door and to shoot anyone who came through it, he made his way around to the back of the house, where he used his elbow to break out the small square of glass closest to the door handle.
The noise reverberated around him like a symphony of promise but not loudly enough for anyone else to hear. He watched the cop’s house for a couple of minutes, searching for any response, any change, and there wasn’t one.
Then he stepped inside.
Too worked up to relax, Myles paced the hallway outside Marley’s room. He’d deposited Vivian on his daughter’s bed at least fifteen minutes ago. Despite her protests that he’d hurt his back if he didn’t put her down, he’d managed without so much as a twinge. She was tall but didn’t weigh much. Now she was tucked in and fast asleep.
But he couldn’t seem to forget about her and go to his own room. He wanted to slip under the covers with her, curve his body around hers. If he was being honest, he wanted to make love to her, too. But he was tired enough that sex was a secondary consideration, less important than just holding her against him. If he could feel her chest rise and fall as she breathed there’d be no question that she was okay and he could rest easier himself.
He doubted she’d kick him out if he tried to sleep
with her. Still, considering how difficult it’d been not to touch her since he’d brought her home, he knew where it would lead. And he’d just decided that he’d play it safe, use some caution before giving his heart away. He’d taken an emotional beating when he lost Amber Rose. Why ask for more?
He didn’t want to get serious about anyone right now, not so soon and not so fast. Vivian least of all. Because he instinctively understood that a relationship with her would not only be intense, it would move at the speed of light. They’d been in a holding pattern too long already, first refusing to acknowledge the attraction, then refusing to let it take its normal course.
Which had left them waiting, watching and wanting. The way they felt about each other was kindling, just waiting for the lighted match, and he wasn’t going to be the one to throw it on.
So why was he standing here in the hall? Tempting himself to start that fire?
Because I’m being an idiot.
Determined to control himself, he went to his own room but stayed there only briefly before coming back out. He couldn’t stop his mind from churning. Pat’s murder. Vivian’s mother’s death. Virgil, the previously unknown brother. Rex, the previously unknown boyfriend. The kids. The responsibility he felt to find the bastards who’d already caused so much heartache.
He needed a sleeping pill but couldn’t take one. He didn’t dare dull his mind. Ink and Lloyd were driving around in a truck that looked almost identical to the majority of trucks in Lincoln County, which meant they could pretty much come and go as they pleased despite
the flyers posted in every establishment. He had to remain cautious and ready to act, just in case…?.
A cup of tea was about the strongest sleep aid he could use.
With another glance at the closed door that separated him from Vivian, he headed downstairs. He was haphazardly digging through the cupboard above the stove, looking for the box of tea he’d purchased on his last trip to the grocery store, when he suddenly felt that something was wrong.
His scalp prickled as he turned. Then he knew what the problem was. A light burned in Vivian’s house—a light that hadn’t been on when he’d made breakfast for her only thirty minutes earlier.
Shit!
Lloyd and Eugene had found Vivian’s address. That had to be it. The sons of bitches had come for her in spite of the incident at Trudie’s store just hours earlier, in spite of the fact that they must have realized everyone in town was looking for them.
God, they were brazen. Fearless.
Feeling as if he had a knot in his windpipe, Myles crossed to the switch plate and turned off the light in his own kitchen so he could look out without being seen. He’d asked his deputies to drive by every hour or so, and he was sure they’d been doing that, but even if they’d made a pass recently, this couldn’t be spotted from the street. It was an upstairs back bedroom.
He was so afraid Ink and Lloyd would get away, he didn’t want to take the time to call for backup. But he didn’t want to be stupid, either. He had a daughter to raise. So he grabbed the phone and dialed 9-1-1 regardless of his desire to get over there as quickly as possible.
“Operator. What is your emergency?”
It was Kimberly Hannah. He knew all the people who worked dispatch.
He told her he’d found the suspects they’d been looking for and asked her to send two squad cars to the house next to his.
“Haney called in sick. Only Botha’s in the area and he just took off to deal with a brawl at the Kicking Horse, but I’ll get him over there as soon as possible,” she said. “Sit tight and wait for him, okay?”
She was scared for him. Their little county didn’t see many homicidal maniacs. But he couldn’t wait another second. If he let these men escape, it would endanger the whole community.
“Just tell him to hurry,” he said. “And call the others.” Then he hung up and dashed upstairs to get his gun.
Virgil’s eyelids felt like sandpaper against his eyeballs. The flight from Buffalo had been cramped and hot and sleepless. His head pounded as he managed to retrieve his carry-on from the overhead bin while wedged between all the other people standing in the aisle. That one bag was all he’d brought. He didn’t plan on staying in Los Angeles more than a day or two—just long enough to finish what he should’ve done four years ago.
With any luck, he’d be on a flight home by morning.
If he wasn’t lucky, he’d be going back in a box.
“Excuse me.”
A soft, female voice came from behind him. A woman wanted to get to the same bin he’d used. He stepped aside to accommodate her, but her bag was too heavy for her to lift, so he got it down for her.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him with enough appreciation to let him know she found him attractive, but
he wasn’t interested. Since he’d found Peyton, he never was. His wife, son and his other loved ones were all that mattered to him.
With a curt nod, he put his back to her and turned on his cell, which rang almost as soon as he hit the Power button. “Yeah?”
“Rex is here with the kids. I just wanted you to know.”
It was Peyton. She’d dropped him off at the airport, then had to wait another hour before she could pick up Rex and Jake and Mia.
Head bent, he lowered his voice so he wouldn’t disturb the other passengers. “How are they?”
“The kids? Great. Excited. This is a party for them.”
“And Rex?”
She took a deep breath; he could hear it through the phone. “I think he needs a doctor.”
Virgil would’ve cursed if he’d had any space to himself. This wasn’t a good time for Rex to be ill. “It’s that bad, huh?”
“It’s that bad.”
“God, if anything happens to him…” Rex was the brother he’d never had. The only person he’d ever really trusted, other than Laurel and Peyton.
“He’ll be fine. I just… I wanted to tell you that I’m not letting him go back to Montana. Not if I can stop him. I’m going to take him to the hospital.”
Peyton didn’t need any additional worries. The pressure of everything already going on was bad enough. “Laurel tried to tell me,” he said.
“She was right. But if he won’t cooperate, there won’t be a lot I can do.”
Virgil imagined the concern on her face, feared what
the stress of this was doing to her and the baby. “Pey, don’t let any of this upset you, okay?”
“How can I avoid that with you in L.A., heading straight back to the people who want to kill you?”
Hearing the tears in her voice, he began to knead his forehead. He wished he could be in two places at once.
“I don’t even know if you’ll survive,” she added.
“Have I ever let you down before?”
“You’ll come through if you can, Virgil. There’s no question about that. It’s just—”
“Quit thinking the worst,” he broke in. “I need you to have faith.”
There was a brief moment of silence during which she seemed to muster her strength, and he prayed she’d be able to hang on—and keep all the children safe. “Okay. I can do that. I’m with you. You know that, don’t you?”
“You’re always with me, babe. Just take it easy until I get back.”
“I understand.”
“Can I talk to Rex?”
“Hang on.”
Rex’s deeper voice came across the line a second later. “Hey, buddy.”
“You’re sick, huh?”
“Hell, no. I’m fine.”
“Let her take you to the hospital.”
“What? No way! I’m going back to Montana as soon as I can get a change of clothes and buy a ticket. I left all the shit I took to L.A. at some motel.”
They’d opened the plane door. The line was finally beginning to move. Virgil could feel the balmy evening air so distinctive to this part of the country waft into the aircraft.
Hefting his bag over one shoulder, he nodded at the flight attendant who wished him a good night. “You must’ve been out of your mind in L.A.,” he murmured to Rex.
“Sort of,” came the response.
“Listen, I really need you to do something.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to let Peyton take you to the emergency room and get you some help.”
“No. I just told you—”
“Rex, please. Will you do it? For me?” Virgil couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever had to plead with Rex about anything. They always understood each other. He knew about Jack, doubted he could’ve handled what had happened himself. So he gave Rex a lot of latitude and tried not to ask for much. But he was pleading with him now.