by Brenda Novak
He frowned. “There’s no way to be sure. I’d start surveillance tonight if I could. I just don’t have the manpower and keeping you safe is my priority. I’m having a deputy drive by every hour or so. It’s not a lot, but…”
“At least we know what Ink and his friend are driving,” she said. “That might come in handy later.”
“Except white trucks are probably the most common vehicle around here. I didn’t realize that until I started looking for them.” He noticed that she kept rubbing her stomach. “Are you okay?”
She dropped her hand. “I’m alive. That’s about all I can hope for right now.”
“You should’ve told me before.”
“About…”
“The Crew.”
“And how would that have changed things?”
He didn’t have an answer. He just felt she should’ve trusted him.
Closing her eyes again, she rested her head against the door. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Why didn’t you call me tonight, let me know where you were? Didn’t you realize I’d assume the worst if you didn’t come home?”
She reached for her hair, seemed to remember there was nothing left to tuck behind her ears and shoved her fingers through it instead. “No. I was too busy trying to convince Claire that we weren’t going to flee town.”
This distracted him. He’d known Claire practically since the day he’d moved here, liked her. But she could be as evasive as Vivian. “She wanted to go with you?”
“She’s not happy here. There are too many memories. She’s wanted to leave for a long time.”
“Why doesn’t she?”
“Leanne.” A speculative expression settled over her face. “Do you think her stepfather killed her mother, Myles?”
He was surprised she’d ask in the middle of her own crisis, but he supposed it was a distraction of sorts, easier to deal with than the danger she faced. So many people had asked him the same question since he’d come to Pine view. For Leanne and Claire’s sake, he’d always said no. He didn’t want the truth to get back to them, to make their lives any more difficult—especially because he could be wrong. “I can’t answer honestly. And I think you know why.”
She tilted her head. “You thought I should trust you with my identity, my life.”
And yet he wouldn’t trust her with something as small as his opinion on this matter. “Fine. Just between you and me?”
She nodded.
“I think it’s more likely than any other scenario.”
She chuckled without mirth. “It’s always the husband.”
“Almost always,” he corrected.
“That’s especially sad in this case. Claire worships her stepfather.”
“If she suspected him, she’d lose both parents, because then she couldn’t love him. It’s classic denial.”
“I’ve had a bit of experience with that. Some people are capable of terrible things.”
He wanted to shed the weight of his utility belt, get out of his uniform, but he hadn’t decided how he was going to handle keeping her safe. He knew what he wanted to do, but he wasn’t sure Vivian would cooperate. “How’d Claire let you out of her sight?”
“I insisted. And then Leanne came over and needed her.”
“That’s about the only thing that would do it. She puts Leanne above all else. But she cares about you.”
“She has to stay away from me until this is over.” She finally seemed recovered enough to move. “Shall we go upstairs or down?”
“Excuse me?”
“We have to get off the ground floor.” She waved around them. “We’ll be safer without all these windows.”
“Up would be better.” Then he could see out, but whoever was looking in couldn’t get to them without coming up the stairs.
“Up, it is.”
He followed her to her bedroom. Decorated in beige and black, it contained a canopy-style bed made of iron and surrounded by sheer black fabric held back with big, drooping beige ties. Aside from the bed, there was the kind of chair usually found in a garden, paired with an antique dresser. Probably twenty old clocks covered one wall. But it was the elaborate chandelier hanging from the ceiling that somehow brought it all together.
As different as it was, he liked it. “I’m surprised Rex was willing to leave you here alone.” He stood in the doorway because he wasn’t too sure about venturing inside.
“You saw him.” She put her gun on the bed before kicking off her shoes. “He had no choice.”
“What’s wrong with him? Besides his drug addiction?”
“Nothing’s wrong with him, other than that.” She held up a hand in the classic stop position. “And don’t judge him, please. He’s had a hard life. I…I owe him a lot.”
“Are you still in love with him?” Myles couldn’t believe he’d asked that question. He’d told himself he wouldn’t go anywhere near her relationship with Rex, because it didn’t matter one way or the other. She wasn’t the right person for him. He needed someone with whom he could feel a bit more…indifferent. Someone nice, pleasant, a reliable companion but no one who could steal his breath with just a look.
She seemed intent on formulating her answer. Sitting on her bed, she crossed her legs. “Maybe a little.”
He wished he hadn’t asked. Her answer was too honest not to hurt. And how she felt was none of his business, especially since he still didn’t know whether he was ready to let go of Amber Rose to the point that falling in love with someone else would require. “He needs to get some help.”
“My brother will take care of that, if Rex will let him. If he won’t, there’s nothing anyone can do. Trust me. But I wasn’t finished answering your question.”
“You said yes,” he reminded her.
“I said a little. I think I’ll always feel something for him. If you knew what we’ve been through, what he’s done for both me and my brother, you’d understand. But I’ll never go back to him. What we had is over.”
“Getting serious with someone like that would be trouble. But that’s just a piece of friendly advice.” He leaned against the door frame. “It doesn’t matter to me one way or another.”
Her forehead creased. “Is that so?”
Unable to meet her gaze, he bent to pick up a penny he saw on the carpet. “Yes.”
“You’re putting me on notice that you’re no longer interested?”
“Just keeping the promise you made me give you at the cabin.”
“To find someone else for your next sexual encounter.”
He knew the reason she’d required that promise was no longer valid. Her secret was out; as far as he knew she had nothing left to hide. But that was just the point. Now that she had no reason to deny him, he was afraid of how hard he might fall if she started saying yes. “If you want to spell it out.”
“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “You—you’re not why I stayed, in case you were wondering. There are a lot of other things here in Pineview. Good things.”
“I agree.”
A hard lump had formed in the pit of his stomach, but he forced himself to move on. “So what’s your plan? Don’t tell me you’re just going to hang around and wait for the worst.”
“That’s about my only option, isn’t it?” She shrugged but there was a tension in her body that hadn’t been there before. He could see it in the way she held herself. “I’m the bait that’ll draw them out.”
He felt his eyebrows shoot up. “And then what?”
“As far as plans go, it’s not complicated. I try to kill them before they kill me.”
“Have you ever killed anyone before?”
“No. But I’ve seen men killed.” Her voice fell until he could scarcely hear her. “And I’ve been the reason others have died.”
As terrible as that must have been, it wasn’t the same. That was outside her control. This wouldn’t be. She’d have to squeeze the trigger herself. But he didn’t see the point in trying to di
fferentiate. “That doesn’t matter. If you think I’m going to let you go it alone, you’re crazy.”
“You don’t have any choice. I don’t want you involved. These men…nothing deters them. I couldn’t take it if someone else was killed. Maybe you don’t think much of me after everything that’s happened, but I…I don’t want to see you hurt.”
He ignored her reference to what he thought of her. He thought more of her than she realized, but it wouldn’t help him maintain any emotional distance to admit it. “No one’s going to get hurt. Not on my watch. Grab whatever you’re going to need. Tonight we’re staying at my place.”
She hopped off the bed. “I can’t do that!”
He finally came inside the room. “Why not?”
“For the same reason I wouldn’t stay with Claire. If you’re not worried about your own safety, what about Marley?”
“She’s not home. She’s with a friend.”
She reached out to grab his arm, but caught herself before making contact. “Please, don’t. Every time I think of you trying to stop them, I see…I see the U.S. marshal who…” She choked up so much she couldn’t finish.
He wanted to relent and hold her. But he couldn’t, not without rekindling the desire he’d experienced at the cabin. And doing that would only make the rest of the night too difficult to get through. Not to mention the rest of the week, the month, the year.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he told himself he didn’t want to feel her against him. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. “You’re tired, overwrought. You need some rest.”
“I’ll be fine. I know what I’m up against.”
“Vivian…Laurel—God, I don’t even know what to call you anymore.”
“It’s Vivian,” she said softly.
“Why choose that persona?”
“Because that’s who I am to you. That’s who I’ve become even to me. At least for now.”
He had a feeling those words held more meaning than their easiest interpretation—that he was most familiar with that name—but he refused to examine it. He had to convince her to stay with him; if he wanted to keep her safe, he had no choice about that. “Vivian, then. Let me take care of you for a little while.”
Her eyes, so pretty and yet so haunted, pleaded with him to understand. “But what if—”
“I’m not going to be hurt.” Suddenly angry, he scowled at her. “Stop turning down the help you need, okay?”
He started taking clothes out of her drawers. He didn’t care what they were; he figured if she wouldn’t cooperate he’d gather up as much as he could hold, and that would have to be good enough. There was no way she was staying here even if he had to carry her out. “Tomorrow we’ll put you in a safe place, somewhere no one else in town knows about and—”
“No.” She grabbed his arm. He meant to shake her off so he could continue, but he turned and stared at her instead and the memories he’d been fighting flooded through his mind—the taste of her kiss, the softness of her skin, the moment he’d first buried himself inside her.
Surprised by whatever she’d seen in his face, she let go.
Frustrated with himself for wanting her so badly regardless of all the reasons he should leave her alone, he went back to collecting her clothes. “Work with me here. Just until we can find these men. They’re strangers in Pineview. And we have their pictures plastered all over town. They can’t remain hidden forever.”
He didn’t get the impression she believed it would be that easy. But, with a resigned nod, she got a bag and helped him finish packing.
After what seemed like an interminable silence, Virgil checked the minutes he’d used on the prepaid cell phone he’d purchased for this call. Fifteen. Already. Shit. He thought he’d bought more than enough. How long did it take to threaten somebody? He should’ve guessed it wouldn’t go smoothly. Nothing involving The Crew ever did…?.
Pivoting in front of the windows overlooking the parking lot at his office, he waited for the guy who’d answered his call to bring Horse to the phone. He’d never actually spoken to Horse before. He knew his real name was Harold Pew, but he’d never actually used it. As with most prison gangs, everyone went by nicknames—and Virgil didn’t have to think too hard to guess how Horse had gotten his.
At least he had something to offer the ladies. From what Virgil had heard, Horse was a big, pockmarked ugly son of a bitch—and a mean one, too. Since Horse had taken over leadership of The Crew’s foot soldiers living in Los Angeles, the power had gone to his head.
“Is this some sort of joke?” A deep, raspy voice barked this question into the phone. Since Virgil had asked for Horse, he could only assume it was him.
Finally. Virgil had been about to hang up, return to the store to load the phone with more minutes and call back. “Surprise!” he crooned. “Must be your birthday, eh?”
“Is this really Virgil Skinner?”
“Do other people call you up and impersonate me?”
“Considering how I feel about you, no one would be that stupid.”
“Then you’ve answered your own question.” Turning his back to the view, Virgil eyed his office. There were times when he woke up expecting to see the cell he’d lived in for fourteen years instead of the beautiful home he owned with Peyton. He still couldn’t believe he’d been able to change his life, that he had so much he cared about when he’d started with absolutely nothing. He was happy. Why did this have to keep cropping up?
“You have some balls, you know that?” Horse said. “What do you think you’re doing, calling me up as if we’re friends?”
“I could’ve sent an email saying, ‘I’m going to fuck you up if you don’t stop what you’re doing’ to [email protected], but I was afraid you’d discard it as just another idle threat.”
Horse laughed a bit too loudly and a bit too long. “But it is an idle threat. There’s nothing you can do to me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
“Why not?”
“I have one advantage.”
“You don’t have shit.”
“I know where you are. You can’t say the same about me.”
“But to reach me, you’d have to come through fifty other Crew.”
Virgil manufactured a laugh of his own. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, wouldn’t you say? Day to day there are maybe…five guys around at any one time.” The Crew couldn’t hang out with Horse all day. They had prostitutes to pimp, debtors to rough up, dope to pedal. “Five to one. Those were good odds where I learned to fight.”
“You mean four years ago? Before you settled down and became a family man? I’m guessing you’re a bit rusty.”
Apparently Horse didn’t know Virgil owned his own bodyguard service. The Crew must’ve missed that detail when they came after them in D.C. All they cared about was an address, and they’d come up with Laurel’s somehow. Virgil would never forget the call he’d received from her after the attack. If not for Rex, she’d be dead.
But Horse wasn’t entirely wrong. In the four years Virgil had been protecting others, the worst he’d had to do was shove someone out of the way or toss a few drunks out of a club, and even that was before he’d hired others. Now he had a team of eight, not counting the three who did background checks and other searches, and his clerical staff of two. “What I might’ve lost in technique I’ve gained in motivation,” he said.
“And you think I care? Come on—blood in, blood out. You know how the game’s played. Winner takes all, Skin.”
Virgil winced at his old nickname. It reminded him of the years he’d been driven by rage, rage not so different from what he was feeling right now. “Call Ink off and let bygones be bygones, or I’ll bring the fight to your front door, and then it’ll be too late for peace.”
“Ink? That’s what this is about? You’re worried about that broken-down crazy bastard? I couldn’t call him off even if I wanted to. You know he’s certifiable, right? Payback. That’s all he cares about
.”
That broken-down crazy bastard had already caused too much damage. “He’s one of yours. You need to do something about him before this goes any farther.”
“There’s nothing I can do. Your sister’s probably already dead.”
Fighting a sudden impulse to break something, Virgil returned to the window and let his forehead fall against the glass. “For your own sake, you’d better hope that’s not true.”
“I’m not scared of you, Skin. You want me? Come get me. If you show up here it’ll save me the trouble of finding you.” He lowered his voice. “Because I will find you. No matter how long and hard I have to look. I bet Laurel’s giving Ink your address right now. But when I come for you, I won’t kill you immediately. First I’m going to destroy everyone you’ve ever loved.” He chuckled softly. “Just like I did your mother.”
Something inside him snapped. Whirling, Virgil threw the first object he could grab, which happened to be his stapler. It landed against the wall, creating a sizable dent and a loud thud. “You won’t touch anyone else. You won’t have the chance,” he said, and hung up.
Sandra, his administrative assistant knocked at the door. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Covering his face, he stood perfectly still, grappling for control before he threw something else. She knew his background, his real name. He’d told her so she’d be extra careful about releasing any of his personal information to people who called, but she’d probably never really believed the threat he lived with. Most people couldn’t even fathom what it was like.
“Can you hear me?” she asked, louder.
Breathe… “It’s fine, Sandra. Everything’s fine.” He choked out those few words.
“Oh. Good. Okay. Well, did you want to go over those contracts with me now?”
“No.” He couldn’t think about business. He couldn’t think about anything except the fact that he’d have to leave right away, despite the impending birth of his daughter. He had to stop The Crew before anyone else got hurt. It might mean he’d miss the delivery, but he had no choice. Neither he nor Laurel was in a position to run again. If he couldn’t convince Horse to bury the hatchet, he had to stop him some other way, even if it meant putting a bullet in his head.