“I’m going in as Bennett, not Skinner,” he told her. “He’ll never connect me with that text. Chances are he’ll never connect me with the man his sister saw at the taco place, either.”
“Maybe not right away. But he can feel there’s been a change. And he’s asking questions. That makes me nervous.”
“Why would he be so curious?”
“General boredom. Like everyone else. And he was reprimanded for being overly zealous in breaking up a fight two weeks ago. One of the inmates wound up with a cracked skull that might’ve had nothing to do with the original altercation. John’s about to be disciplined for it, so he’s looking over his shoulder.”
“He’s got an abusive streak and he’s afraid it’ll cost him his job?”
She’d been afraid he’d jump to that conclusion. The investigation wasn’t complete, so she didn’t know for sure, but she sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. “If I thought he was truly abusive, he wouldn’t be working at Pelican Bay. He panicked and used more force than necessary. It won’t happen again.”
“There’s a good chance you won’t hear about it even if it does.”
“How would he keep it from me?”
“There are ways to hurt people without cracking their skulls.”
“Don’t act like you know more about Pelican Bay or the people who work there than I do,” she said. “You haven’t even been inside. Not yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. One prison isn’t that different from the next.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to get into a pissing contest with you, okay? I’m against having you go in. That’s all I’m here to say.”
“You’re spooked because of this guy. John. It’ll be fine.”
“You can’t be sure it’ll be fine.”
He got off the bed. “It’s not your decision, anyway.”
The wait, the pressure and the fear for his sister, not to mention that he probably felt somewhat responsible for Trinity Woods’s murder, had to be driving him crazy. He’d been on edge ever since she’d arrived. So had she. Add to that the tension between them—which they couldn’t relieve in the same way they had last night—and the surfeit of emotion threatened to erupt into an argument.
An argument over nothing.
Taking a deep breath, Peyton focused on her purpose. “Why not leave, go and get Laurel, disappear?”
“Because it’s not that easy—not without resources. And, in case you haven’t noticed, a man doesn’t build up a lot of resources in prison.”
“You’re sticking it out to get your compensation money?”
“No. Considering all the red tape, I don’t have much chance of getting that money. I’m doing it because life on the run is not what I want for my sister or her children. Someone who’s always lived in an ivory tower wouldn’t understand, but—”
“Excuse me?” she broke in. “I’ve never lived in an ivory tower.”
“You’ve never lived the way I have, either.”
“I work in the same kind of place.”
“By choice. You get to leave at the end of each day and pick up a hefty paycheck for your trouble. I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I’m only trying to help.”
“And I don’t need your help. I’ve told you that before. Quit treating me like some sort of…pity project. I’ll make it on my own.”
Feeling as if he’d just slapped her, she tensed. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“I’m doing the best I can to protect the people I care about, okay? If it works, Laurel will have a new identity. She’ll be able to remarry and live the rest of her life without fear and without running. I owe her that.”
“You do? Why?” she challenged. “Did you ask for this?”
He hadn’t expected that question. It took him off guard—she could tell—but he quickly rallied. “She’s the only person who’s ever been there for me.”
“When are you going to be there for you?”
He scowled. “You’re not making a damn bit of sense.”
“Then let me be clearer. I don’t want to see you hurt!”
He rolled his eyes. “Come off it. At least be honest. What happens to me has no bearing on you. We’re not even friends.”
Virgil had plenty of reason to be upset. But his responses were more personal and much harsher than Peyton had foreseen, and she wasn’t willing to put up with it any longer.
“Forget I ever came here.” Grabbing her coat, she turned to go, but he moved up behind her and put a hand on the door, holding it closed.
“Let me out,” she said, but only halfheartedly. She didn’t really want to leave. She wished she could lean into him, that he’d be as tender with her as he’d been last night.
But what he was feeling didn’t even resemble tenderness. She knew that when he spoke. His voice was low, grating. “I thought you didn’t date anyone who worked at the prison.”
Now he was looking for something else to fuel his anger. “I don’t.”
“Then what was John doing at your house?”
“I won’t dignify that with an answer. You have no say over what I do or who I see.”
“Did he bring a keepsake for your cabinet?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear.
She held the door handle in a death grip but didn’t turn it. “He brought me dinner, okay? That’s it. Now please let me go.”
“You just told me you turn him down whenever he asks you out.”
“I do.”
“It doesn’t sound as if you turned him down tonight.” Taking her coat, he threw it on the chair, but she didn’t face him. She wasn’t sure how their clash of wills would play out if she did.
She rested her forehead against the wood panel. “He’d already brought dinner. I didn’t have the heart to send him packing. He’s recently divorced, lonely. I think he’s looking for a friend.”
He slid his hand up under her T-shirt, leaving a swath of gooseflesh as he skimmed his fingers along her bare skin. When she didn’t resist, he changed direction and slipped his hand into her jeans, where his touch became far more intimate.
Get out of here before it’s too late. He was no longer holding the door. She could go. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind for this kind of contact, and neither was she. But knowing tonight was probably the last time she’d see him before he was incarcerated, she hoped for a better parting, one that would allow them to feel okay when they assumed their respective roles.
“Friendship isn’t what he’s trying to get from you,” he murmured. “He wants this.” His tongue plunged into her ear as two fingers claimed her with enough force to make her cry out. But it didn’t hurt. Pleasure burned through her veins.
“How do you know?” she breathed.
“Because I want it, too.”
Scarcely able to speak above the racket of her heart, Peyton squeezed her eyes shut. “We can’t…make this mistake again.” She wasn’t sure who she was talking to. That comment hadn’t really been directed at him. She was just grasping for a way to hold on to her resolve. But he answered.
“You’ve already given it to me once. What’s one more time?”
“It’s one more time.”
“Good thing you’re too nice to say no.”
She wanted to correct him. She wasn’t going along with this because she was “nice.” Nice had nothing to do with it—or him. Especially right now. She could sense his anger, but she didn’t complain, even when he peeled down her jeans and took her from behind without ceremony or foreplay.
Although she’d never been treated this roughly, feeling Virgil unleash his frustrations gave their coupling an eroticism that caused every nerve to quiver. He made sure she knew he was the one in control, but she felt safe with him at the same time. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, she hadn’t felt safe from the beginning.