by Brenda Novak
“Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“Good. Now that I can breathe… Everyone’s in their cells this time of the morning. How are you calling me?”
“I promised Buzz fifty bucks if he let me borrow his cell.”
Buzz had a cell? As a prison administrator, she wasn’t too happy to learn that. But hard as they worked to stop the smuggling, it went on. And personally, she couldn’t be happier that Virgil had found a means to contact her. “Where’d you get fifty dollars?”
“Where do you think?”
His gate money. They gave parolees two hundred dollars when they released them.
“I told him I needed to call my girlfriend,” he added with a chuckle.
She smiled at the admission. “So…am I your girlfriend?”
There was a slight pause, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. Then he said, “You’re the only one I dream about.”
Remembering his kiss, reliving it in her mind, she moistened her lips. “That would probably be more flattering if you had access to other women.”
“All I care about is getting access to you.”
This was a far different Virgil, one who was showing his tender side. His injuries must be getting the better of him, or he was feeling fatalistic or depressed. “Is that the pain meds talking?” she asked. “Because the last time we chatted, you were pushing me away.”
“The meds can’t change how I feel, but…maybe they’re changing what I’m willing to say. I shouldn’t be telling you that you matter to me. I’m a fool for even wanting you.”
Spinning in a tight circle, she savored the smell of the forest around her and knew she’d never forget this moment. “Then we’re both fools because I want you, too.”
“You can’t be serious.”
She couldn’t deny it. “I am.”
“See? Now that’s going to make me even crazier. Because I can’t be with you. And how long can I expect a woman like you to wait?”
The solidity of his medallion, which she’d put on before bed last night, reassured her as it hung between her breasts. She wrapped her fingers around it, glad that she had something tangible, something that belonged to him. “I can’t imagine I’ll be going anywhere. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do.”
The tone of his voice suddenly became wary. “Someone’s coming. I gotta go.”
But she hadn’t broached the subject of the note from Weston yet…. “No, wait! I need to talk to you.”
“I can’t. I just…I wanted you to know—in case something happens to me—you’ve already been the best part of my life.” Those words came in a rush; then he was gone.
Tears rolled down Peyton’s cheeks as she stared at her phone. He’d risked his life to tell her that. If Buzz called back to see who he’d been talking to and got her voice mail—or she answered and he recognized her voice—Virgil would be exposed.
But the fact that she meant that much to him made her care about him all the more.
She caught herself. Care about him? Her feelings were stronger than that. She s pretty sure she was falling in love.
Taking a few minutes to change her voice mail to a computerized response instead of a personal message, just in case, she hurried back to the house.
“You seem to be in a much better mood,” Rick said as he walked into the kitchen and found Peyton smiling over a bagel and her second cup of coffee.
Clearing her throat, she made an effort to rid herself of the goofy expression. “Yes, I’m, um, feeling better,” she managed to say.
He watched her curiously. “You must’ve slept well.”
“Well enough. You?”
“Like a rock.”
“Glad to hear it.” She added cream to her coffee. “What are your plans for the day?”
“I’m heading home. I didn’t pack enough clothes.”
“Things at work are probably piling up, too, huh?” She feigned interest in the paper, as if she was absorbed in an article. But she’d been trying to read it since she sat down for breakfast and couldn’t seem to comprehend a single word.
“I’m actually dealing with my workload. I handled quite a bit via the internet yesterday. Computers are great, aren’t they?”
Not if you preferred that he get back to the office…. “Mmm-hmm.”
“Where’d you get that?”
Peyton had been toying with Virgil’s medallion. When Rick asked about it, she slipped it under her blouse. “Oh, I picked it up at a flea market in San Francisco a long time ago. Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s sort of masculine, isn’t it?”
“Maybe a little.” She got up and turned away. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“A cup of coffee will do. I’ve got a lot of driving ahead of me. I’ll pick up a breakfast sandwich on the road.”
“Okay.”
She was handing it to him when he said, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
The cup rattled in its saucer, but she covered her reaction by pretending to cough as he rescued his drink. “You’re coming right back?”
“Yeah. It’ll be more convenient to work here for a few days.”
“At my place?”
“If you don’t mind.”
She did mind. That was asking way too much. But she figured they could go over that when he returned. Right now, she didn’t want to give him any excuse to stay. “Mercedes doesn’t want you to…you know, get your things and move out?”
“There’s no rush. We’re going to break it to the girls tonight. Next weekend will be soon enough to pack.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’d rather be here to support you in what we’re trying to pull off. I know the anxiety isn’t easy for you.”
She didn’t challenge him on that, either. She was just happy he was leaving, for even a short period of time.
Her smile was strained. “I hope it goes well at home.”
“There’s not much chance of that, I’m afraid.”
Peyton felt genuinely bad about his acrimonious divorce, but she didn’t understand why he had to make her life miserable, too. “Hopefully, we’ll have everything down to a routine by the time you come back.”
“I don’t have to rush off. Would you prefer I came to the prison with you this morning? We could meet with Weston together.”
He seemed eager for any diversion or excuse that would keep him from facing the crisis waiting for him at home, but she wasn’t about to go for that. “There’s no need. It’ll be simple.”
Sighing, he poured some coffee into one of the foam cups she’d put on the counter. “You’re not going to let me in, are you.”
She began to wash up. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re completely closed off. You’re not even giving me a chance.”
“This is a stressful time, Rick. We’ve already discussed it. I’d rather leave it for now, okay?”
He lifted his cup in a small salute. “You’re right. Everything will be different once Virgil’s out of the picture. Then you won’t need to worry about him anymore. He’ll be off somewhere, living his own life, and things around here will get back to normal.”
She felt relieved that he’d been willing to accept such a flimsy excuse. “Right. First things first.”
“Call me after work,” he said, and surprised her with a quick kiss on the mouth before gathering his briefcase. “Think about that while I’m gone.”
As soon as he’d picked up his briefcase, grabbed his coffee and headed out, she wiped her mouth. She didn’t care if it was childish. Then she collected her keys and hurried to Pelican Bay.
When a stocky young C.O. came to get him from his cell, saying the chief deputy warden wanted a word with him, Virgil was told it had to do with the fight. Buzz believed it, but Virgil knew better.
“What’s the matter, man?” Buzz said. “If she was gonna put you in the SHU she would’ve done it already.”
Virgil
realized he was scowling. It wasn’t that he was unhappy about seeing Peyton; it was that he wanted to see her too badly. He’d let himself fall into the very trap he’d been trying so hard to avoid.
“Tell her I’m busy,” he said in a last-ditch effort to save himself.
The C.O. brandished his extendable baton. “Get going, and do it n-now,” he stammered.
Had that been anything close to a believable threat, Virgil might’ve refused and let the poor kid go to the stress and trouble of physically removing him. Why not? There wasn’t anything this guy could do that would be worse than what Virgil had in store for himself. He might as well tear his heart out as fall for the chief deputy warden of Pelican Bay. Even if she thought she wanted him in return, it couldn’t last.
But this poor C.O. had to be a new hire. He was so scared Virgil couldn’t make him use his baton.
Cursing his own stupidity instead, he allowed the guard to shackle his hands and feet to a belly chain and moved out of the cell.
The trek through the prison took longer than Virgil expected—because once he knew he was going to let himself see her, he couldn’t wait.
When they finally reached an office that had the name Joseph Perry, Associate Warden, on the door, Peyton was sitting behind the desk. She wore a suit similar to the one she’d been wearing on Friday, and he felt his chest constrict as she looked up. He’d never seen such a beautiful woman….
She ordered the guard, Officer Dean, according to his nametag, to leave. Then Virgil understood why she’d sent such an inexperienced C.O.
“But…Chief Deputy,” Dean responded. “This man doesn’t have a good attitude.”
Virgil cocked an eyebrow at that. He considered himself to be on his best behavior. If he really wanted to, he could disarm the kid in a heartbeat, even with his shackles on.
Peyton gave him a look that indicated she’d handle it. “I’ve got someone else coming for him. In the meantime, I have an alarm box right here.” She pulled it out of her pocket. “Besides, I was a C.O. for years. I can handle him.”
Dean was only about two-thirds Virgil’s size, but he was still bigger than Peyton. He shot Virgil an uncertain glance before asking, “You’re sure you don’t want me to wait until—”
“I’m positive,” she broke in. “I want to make it easy for him to talk, if he chooses to do so. You understand.”
“Oh…” He nodded. “I get it.”
When he acquiesced, Virgil nearly grabbed him and told him that he should never, under any circumstances, leave her alone with any of the other cons, even if she insisted on it. In his view, having him do so today didn’t set a good precedent. Just because he was safe didn’t mean any of the other men in Pelican Bay could be trusted.
“I hope you don’t do this with regular cons,” Virgil said after the boy had left.
“I’m not dying to be alone with any of the other inmates.” She came around the desk to lock the door.
“Who’s Joseph Perry and why are we in his office?”
“He’s one of the associate wardens. My office is outside the fence, so this was my best option, unless I wanted to use a conference room.”
“What if he comes back?”
“He won’t. He’s gone for the day. Let’s get you out of those for a minute.” She removed a key for his handcuffs and belly chain from her briefcase, but she wouldn’t catch his eye while using it. She seemed nervous. For some reason, he was, too.
“Why am I here?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.
“I need to show you a note Weston sent me, see what you think we should do.”
The scent of her perfume clouded his ability to think. He could remember it so clearly from when he was running his lips over her skin last Saturday. Which led to the memory of her smooth flesh against his in the bed, her breasts bare beneath him in the moonlight….
“What’d you say?” His body had reacted to his thoughts, left him hard, every muscle rigid.
When she raised her eyes to his, she must’ve realized that he was too busy drowning in desire to comprehend anything else, because she didn’t try to talk to him about the note.
“God, it’s good to see you on your feet,” she said, and then the shackles dropped and his hands were free to touch her.
Peyton couldn’t stop kissing Virgil. He was safe, for the moment, and in her arms, and that was all that mattered. She knew there were concerns, dangers, and that they were very real, but they floated somewhere beyond them, beyond that locked door.
“I want you,” he said, his hands already pulling her skirt.
She caught them. “We can’t. There isn’t time.”
“But I may never see you again.”
She gazed into his troubled eyes. “Don’t say that.” She couldn’t bear the thought of it. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll get through this.”
“Just let me touch you.”
Closing her eyes, she threw back her head as his fingers slipped beneath her panties and his lips moved down her throat. She had to say no before this went too far, but she wasn’t sure she could. She’d never felt anything this exquisite before. Her whole body ached for him—
But then he stepped back. “Why?” he asked, those blue eyes of his as piercing as ever. “Why me?”
He couldn’t trust anything, couldn’t accept even positive attention without examining it for danger. He’d been forced to defend himself for so long he didn’t know how to stop. He reminded Peyton of a wounded animal that both wanted attention and snarled at anyone who tried to provide it.
Cupping his cheek, she ran her thumb over his bottom lip. “Because you’re so much more than you know.”
His hands found what he wanted as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. “I’ll clean up my life,” he promised. “I can make something of myself. I swear it. Then I’ll take care of you.”
“You don’t have to take care of me. And you don’t have to convince me of your potential. I believe in you already. Just worry about protecting yourself so I can sleep at night while you’re in here.”
He kissed her gently, moving his tongue so leisurely against hers she got the impression he was memorizing the taste of her, savoring every second. And then his fingers grew more intimate and slid inside her.
Clenching her hands in his hair, she moaned into his mouth and felt his muscles tense. This was crazy, foolhardy; they had to stop. But her skirt was already up around her waist and with his free hand he was doing his best to unbutton her blouse.
“Virgil, if we’re caught—”
“I just want to see it,” he whispered.
“See what?”
“My medallion hanging around your neck.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “It’s there.”
When he grinned back at her, she couldn’t help laughing. He had such an exultant expression on his face, as if he’d just won the greatest prize imaginable. But before he could kiss her again, a timid knock sounded at the door.
“Chief Deputy?”
“Oh, no,” she whispered. Dean hadn’t left.
“No one else has shown up yet,” he called. “And… I’m getting worried about you. Is everything okay in there?”
“Everything’s fine.” She brushed her lips across Virgil’s one last time before righting her clothes and scrambling to get the cuffs back on him.
“We need to talk about what to do with Weston,” she murmured as she dropped the key to those cuffs in her briefcase. “He’s acting as if he’s found out you’re a plant. He wants to make a deal with us. He says if we let him out of the SHU, he’ll get you inside the HF.”
“Can he know?”
“My gut tells me he can’t, that he’s bluffing….”
“Then don’t do it.”
She nodded in agreement. How she’d get around disobeying Rick’s orders, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t have time to worry about that right now. There was another knock.
“Excuse me, um, Chief Deputy Warden?” the C.O. c
alled out.
“Coming!” She hurried across the room, but before she could reach the lock, the handle jiggled.
Assuming it was Dean, she turned the button. But the voice that came from the anteroom didn’t belong to the guard. It was Wallace.
27
Rather than offer an immediate excuse, Peyton pretended the fact that the door was locked held no significance. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you were heading home.”
Wallace didn’t answer. His eyes moved to Virgil. Virgil looked as if the guard had just led him in, but Peyton doubted Wallace would be pleased to see them together in Perry’s office.
“You can go back to work now,” he told Dean, his voice clipped.
Obviously relieved, Pelican Bay’s newest C.O. responded with a dutiful, “Yes, sir,” and strode down the hall.
Silence settled, thick with disapproval, while Virgil and Rick glared at each other.
Peyton cleared her throat. “Would you like to come in?”
“Will you send him out and lock the door if I do?”
Ignoring the insinuation, she perched on the edge of the desk. “No one purposely locked the door, Rick. The button must’ve been accidentally pushed.”
“Right. I’m pretty sure it got pushed just before you took off your clothes.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Or maybe your hair’s mussed because there was a sudden windstorm in here?”
She tucked the fallen strands behind her ears and raised her chin. “It comes loose now and then.”
He walked in and kicked the door shut. “Why are you doing this? Why are you risking my investigation?”
“Your investigation?”
“It was my baby, my idea.”
And his glory if it worked. She’d understood that from the beginning. “This isn’t about professional success, Rick—getting a promotion or a raise or impressing our superiors. This is about lives. And not just Virgil’s. A lot of people could be hurt if this turns into some kind of war.”
He threw up his hands. “Everything would be fine if you could just leave him alone! But you’re acting like a bitch in heat.”