He’d gotten seventy-four miles down Highway 1, as far as Trinidad, before turning back. As much as he wanted to see his girls, he couldn’t bring himself to go home. He knew how nasty it would get with Mercedes. He also knew, if he left town now, he’d lose Peyton for good, which pretty much took care of his dream of coming out of this mess better off than before.
He wasn’t willing to live with no. He’d never had an honest chance with Peyton. Surely, now that he was cutting himself free of everything that’d held him back, he could beat out a thug like Virgil Skinner. Virgil had nothing to offer a woman, except beefcake.
“It won’t last,” he muttered aloud. She was just acting out some kind of captor fantasy. Maybe she was even punishing him for leaving her lonely for so long. And he’d made the situation worse by handling it with less sensitivity than he should have.
He hoped to make it up to her. He wished she’d come home so they could talk. Every minute that passed made him fear she was having sex with Virgil again, and that whipped him into a jealous frenzy. Why was she so attracted to Skinner? He was arrogant and uncouth and hard to know. He didn’t have two nickels to rub together. He had a terrible past. He couldn’t trust anyone, would never open up.
Maybe Virgil was well-endowed. Maybe he was such a good lover she couldn’t resist him….
Quit it. That was insecurity talking.
He checked his watch. Nearly nine o’clock. Would Peyton stay at the prison all night?
He was thinking he might have to drive over there to see what was going on when his cell phone rang. The area code told him the call originated in L.A., but he didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Is this Rick Wallace with the CDC?” A voice as unfamiliar as it was raspy grated in his ear.
“Yes…”
“Good, because I’d like to make you an offer.”
“Who is this?” he asked in confusion.
“I could be your best friend. Or I could be your worst enemy. Your choice.”
Oblivious of the rain that had bothered him just a few minutes earlier, Rick got to his feet. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Maybe this will help. We want Virgil Skinner. Tell us where he’s at, and we’ll make it worth your while.”
“You’re from The Crew?” He’d never anticipated this.
“I’ve obviously reached the right person.”
They knew he was involved. How? Where were they getting their information? “Who gave you my number?”
“The little girl I just spoke to at your house. For security reasons, you really should get an unlisted number.”
When he chuckled, Rick imagined one of his daughters reciting all seven digits of his cell number to whoever asked, so proud that she could remember it. The people who’d killed Laurel’s babysitter, the men who’d attempted to kill Eddie Glover, had just contacted one of his children!
Nausea made him gag. “You better not have—”
The man on the other end cut him off. “It was just a call. For now.”
What did for now mean? Was his family in danger? Would The Crew make him and those he loved a target? He’d never dreamed they’d be that bold. He was on the administration side of corrections. He never dealt with actual convicts, not on a day-to-day basis. And he’d certainly never been threatened. “What, exactly, are you saying?”
“I’m telling you we’re going to find Virgil Skinner one way or the other. If you make it easy for us, we’ll throw you a few Gs for your trouble and you’ll never hear from us again.”
Blinking against the rain, Rick held a hand to his chest as if he could slow the beating of his heart. “Why do you think I can tell you where he is?”
“Come on! We’re not playing games.”
Lying wouldn’t work. They already knew too much. And it was a waste of time to ask this man to divulge his source, because he wouldn’t.
“What do you say, Mr. Wallace? You like your comfy life, don’t you? You like feeling safe at night.”
Rick remembered how The Crew had terrorized Laurel before he got her out of Florence. How they’d managed to track her down even after she was in protective custody. The gang was a lot more organized and resourceful than he ever would’ve guessed. And now, after killing Trinity Woods and Marshal Keegan, wounding Eddie Glover and attempting to murder Laurel and her kids, they were at his house!
Operation Inside had seemed like such a good solution when he’d first come up with it. He’d considered it a creative way to make a name for himself, felt it would be a stepping-stone to bigger and better things. Now he was afraid of where it all might end. Peyton had tried to tell him, but he hadn’t listened. It’d been a mistake to bring Virgil here. Maybe, given enough time, Virgil would be able to provide the evidence to convict whoever had ordered the hit on Garcia, but there were no guarantees. And that chance wasn’t worth risking the lives of his girls. Or spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. Or losing Peyton to a man who wasn’t worthy of her.
Even if she wouldn’t have him, he didn’t want her to be with Virgil.
“I need an answer,” the guy pressed.
Rick squeezed his eyes closed. With just two words— Pelican Bay—Virgil would no longer be a problem to him, and the threat posed by Virgil’s low-life friends would be gone. It’d almost be as if he’d never gotten involved in this.
“Five Gs, Mr. Wallace. Think of the kind of family vacation that can buy.”
“I don’t want your money,” he snapped. And it was true. That would only create a tie between him and The Crew, a tie others might discover. If he simply gave this man what he wanted, who would be the wiser? Then everything that’d gone so wrong since he started this whole thing would instantly improve.
He didn’t have any option, he told himself. They’d find Virgil, anyway. It would be better if it happened before anyone else got hurt. Virgil was the one who’d joined The Crew in the first place. He’d understood the risks: blood in, blood out.
“He’s in Pelican Bay.”
“What’s he doing there?”
This answer was more difficult. Rick knew what it might mean. The Hells Fury would have a greater chance of reaching Virgil than The Crew….
But remembering Virgil standing in Peyton’s office, tall and proud despite his cuffs and chains, and knowing that he was taking what Rick had warned him not to take was too much. Rick had the chance to strike back, and he took it. “We put him there to investigate the Hells Fury, to tell us who killed Judge Garcia in Santa Rosa,” he said, and hung up.
If he’s such a good fighter, let him fight his way out of that….
Shady smiled as he punched the end-call button on his phone. “We’ve got him!” he announced to Horse and Meeks.
Don “Meeks” Mechem sat in the converted garage across from Horse. An older member of the gang, still physically fit but already gray at forty-five, he’d mostly gone legit. If not for Pointblank’s death, he probably wouldn’t have requested a meeting. He didn’t show up at regular events. But Pointblank had been like a kid brother to him, and he wasn’t taking his murder lightly. “And now Skin’s going to pay,” he said.
Horse held up his drink in a toast. “For Pointblank.”