In Seconds

26

Myles had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, but Vivian moved around the motel room, taking a shower, brushing her teeth—two, then three, times—and bolting, unbolting and rebolting the door. When they’d arrived, she’d called the LAPD, told them as much as she knew about the people she believed had killed her mother. They didn’t seem too impressed with her knowledge, or even particularly willing to believe what she had to say, but the detective she’d spoken to wrote it all down and promised to look into it. She figured she’d check back with him in a few days. When she knew what was going on here, she’d be able to push the issue a bit harder.

Myles had sent a deputy by the name of Campbell to get him an overnight bag. Campbell had shown up with it over an hour ago and had brought most of the items she’d put in Marley’s room, too. But if he’d found her jeans somewhere on the floor, he’d left them where they lay, so she was still wearing the sweats she’d donned after Myles was shot. For the moment, though, she was satisfied with the few personal belongings she had with her. She didn’t want to return home to see Myles’s blood on her porch, or face the fact that Ink had once again infiltrated her personal space. There’d be time enough to deal with that later, when they caught Ink and Lloyd. The best thing right now would be to get some rest.

If only she could relax. The nap she’d stolen at the hospital seemed to have taken the edge off her fatigue, and agitation made it impossible to unwind. Especially because she couldn’t get hold of anyone in Buffalo, New York. Myles had been able to call Marley, gently break the news and make arrangements for her to spend another day with the Rogers family. But Vivian didn’t even know if her kids had arrived at their destination. According to the call she placed to the airport, their plane had landed on time, but that was where the trail grew cold. Rex’s cell went straight to voice mail. Peyton wasn’t picking up; neither was Virgil. Yet it was three hours later back east, nearly eleven in the morning. They should definitely be up and around.

Maybe Peyton had gone into labor and they were all at the hospital…?.

That had to be the case. Taking the cordless phone from the nightstand, she stepped outside and kicked a small pebble back and forth while dialing Virgil’s office for the third time in the past two hours.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t heard from him.” It was the same woman who’d answered her last two calls, and she didn’t sound pleased to be bothered again.

“This is his sister, Laurel. Do you know when he might come in?”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”

The receptionist had been trained not to give out information. Vivian could tell. The woman probably didn’t even know Virgil had a sister. They’d kept their lives that separate since D.C. But she wasn’t one of the bad guys, damn it. She needed to know what was going on. “Can you at least tell me if Peyton’s in labor?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t heard.”

Completely neutral again.

“Can you have him call me if you hear from him?”

“Of course.”

“The number is—”

“I’ve got the number. You gave it to me last time.”

“Great. Thanks for nothing,” she grumbled, and hung up. She needed to hear Jake’s and Mia’s voices, wanted reassurance from them more than she’d ever wanted anything.

What should she do? Go to Buffalo? She didn’t even have a car at the motel. She’d ridden to the hospital in the ambulance with Myles, and then Campbell had dropped them off before going to get their things.

Shit. She wrung her hands as she gazed out over the parking lot, which was only half-full. She could see the motel manager moving around in the office, most likely setting out the breakfast included with the room. For other people, this was the start of a day just like any other. But it wasn’t for her. As long as Ink and Lloyd were on the loose, there was too much at stake for anything to feel normal.

With a sigh, she let herself back into the motel room. She was waiting for something. She couldn’t say what. Some word from Virgil or Rex. News that the police had found Ink, or, better yet, that he or his partner was dead, thanks to Myles hitting one of them when he fired. Either would be good news.

She didn’t want to consider the bad news that could come. She just knew that the dawn felt heavy and ominous even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Was it her state of mind? Or some kind of premonition?

Returning to her vigil at the window, she spent the next several minutes staring out at the town, as much of it as she could see from this vantage point. Where could Ink and Lloyd have gone? Were they running or hiding? And why couldn’t the police find them and put an end to her misery?

Would it put an end to her misery if the two of them went back to prison? Or would The Crew send someone else in Ink and Lloyd’s place?

Knowing they could easily do that made her attempt to stay and fight for the life she’d established here feel hopeless. She’d been crazy to think she could escape the past. She needed to leave, to get on the next plane to New York and never look back—

“Hey.”

Startled by the sound of Myles’s voice, she pivoted toward him. “What are you doing awake?” she asked. “Last I heard from you, you were pretty drugged. And that was only two hours ago.”

“At least I slept. Doesn’t look like you’ve been so lucky.”

“I’m too anxious,” she admitted. “I can’t get hold of Virgil or Rex or Peyton. It feels as if something terrible is happening, as if… I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it, but it frightens me. And here I am, unable to do anything about it.”

Eyes dark and shiny and unfathomable, he watched her for several seconds, then pulled back the blankets. “Come here.”

She shook her head. With two beds in the room, they didn’t have to lie down together. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be that close. Part of her did. Part of her wanted nothing more. The other part felt too guilty. Without question, she’d stayed in Pineview for the life she’d created and all the promise it afforded. She’d put a lot into this town and gotten a lot out of it. But it was her handsome neighbor that distinguished this place from every other. She could buy another house, find a new town, a school Jake and Mia enjoyed, a talented dance instructor for Mia’s ballet. She could continue her business from anywhere. And she could maintain her relationships with Claire and Nana Vera from a distance. She just couldn’t maintain a relationship with the sheriff, not if she left. She’d known that from the beginning.

Had she done what she’d sworn never to do? Had she put her romantic interests above the welfare of her children, the way her mother had always done?

She’d thought she was fighting for all of them, for what staying here could mean to them as a family. Jake wanted a father so badly. She knew how thrilled he’d be to have Myles permanently in his life. But now she feared that she’d hoped for too much and reached too far.

She should’ve packed up and left town with the kids immediately. No one could beat The Crew. They were too determined, too vicious.

“I wish I could offer you some reassurance,” he said. “I wish I could say it’ll all work out. But I can’t guess what’s going to happen. I only know that as far as I’m concerned you’re where you should be.”

“And how do you know that?” she asked. “I’m here because of you. You know that, too, right? I—I’ve had a thing for you for a long time. And now…”

“Now you’re wondering if you’ve made a mistake.”

She rubbed her face. “I’m pretty sure I have. I appreciate everything you’ve done. But…I’ve got to go.”

His attention suddenly far more acute, he pushed himself into a sitting position. “Where?”

“To New York State to get my kids. Then…Salt Lake. Cheyenne. Denver. Anywhere but here. I have to keep Jake and Mia safe. I’m all they’ve got.”

“Don’t go.”

Tears caught in her lashes before spilling down her cheeks. “I have no choice.” She started for the door, but when he got out of bed and came limping toward her, she couldn’t walk away.

“Rex wouldn’t let anything happen to Jake and Mia,” he said. “Or you wouldn’t have allowed him to take them. And even if you relocate, there’s no guarantee The Crew won’t find you. They could show up in Salt Lake or Cheyenne or wherever just as easily as here.”

“That’s the excuse I’ve been using, but I should’ve packed up and gotten on the first plane out of Montana. I shouldn’t have sent them away or put you in danger. I’m sorry.”

“Vivian, you didn’t put me in danger. Ink and his buddy did.” He placed one hand on the door to keep her from opening it. “I can’t promise you’ll be safe here. I can promise I’ll do all I can to protect you.”

She wanted to hear that, wanted to believe it. But he was standing in front of her with two bullet wounds, and Ink and Lloyd were still at large. What if it had gone the other way? Just like it did with the U.S. marshal? Her mother was dead. Pat, too. If things didn’t change, she wouldn’t even be able to attend his funeral next week. “But don’t you see? Even if you catch them, it might not be over. The Crew could send more and more—”

“Then we’ll take them on, too. You don’t give in to a gang. That only builds their power.”

“But you have Marley to worry about. Why would you be willing to remain involved in this?”

He was the sheriff. He could’ve said it was his job. But he didn’t. His voice deepened as he held her gaze. “For the same reason you risked staying.”

He was doing it for her, for what could happen between them. “But it’s because of me that you’ve already been shot.”

Hobbling a bit closer, he took her chin, tilting it toward him. “It brought you out in your underwear, didn’t it?”

When she smiled at his sexy grin, he threaded his fingers through hers. “Don’t leave me,” he murmured. “We have something here. I don’t know what it’ll turn out to be. But we’ll never know if we let The Crew tear us apart.”

He was right. There was no way to see into the future, no way to provide guarantees on either side. They could be hurt, physically or emotionally; they were taking a chance for love. She’d trusted her heart when she’d stayed. She’d pried it open and allowed herself to care about him and this place, despite what she’d been through. That was a victory in itself.

The rest she had to take on faith.

“Okay,” she said, and let him lead her back to bed.

Two men stood on the dirt and weeds that served as a backyard to Horse’s club. They huddled near the chain-link fence at the far corner of the house, speaking in low tones as they transacted some sort of business. Virgil had no doubt that whatever they were doing was illegal. Almost everything that went down here was. But they weren’t worried about his sudden appearance. When he rounded the corner, they glanced up to see what he wanted but went back to their negotiations as soon as they realized he wasn’t interested in them. Too many men came and went from here for his presence to alarm them. He was alone, which was hardly threatening, considering their numbers. And he looked as if he fit right in. He knew how to look that way; he used to be as much a part of The Crew as they were.

The fact that these men were along his escape route could become a problem, however. Once he shot Horse, they’d know he wasn’t an ally. He made a mental note of the complications they could cause as he swung the door open and stepped into a hallway that smelled of pot and cigars.

Blinds covered every window in the house, judging by the darkness. Privacy was important. The Crew wouldn’t tolerate strangers peering in—although the inhabitants of this neighborhood knew better than to get nosy. Too much interest could get them killed.

The only light Virgil could see came from a lamp in the living room at the end of the hall; there was also a bit of light drifting up from the club downstairs. The clack of balls told him some people were still awake down there, playing pool. If they were doing coke, they might not sleep for days.

Several doors lined the hallway—all of them closed, except the one leading to the stairs that went down to the club. Mona had mentioned that Horse was in the back bedroom. But there were at least three rooms and probably a bathroom and no way to tell the difference between them. Which room was it?

Leaning against the door closest to him, Virgil tried to hear if anything was going on, but there was no sound. He was about to turn the doorknob, risk looking in, when a woman appeared at the end of the hall and drew his attention with a little cough.

Dressed in fishnet stockings, high-heeled black boots, a skirt that didn’t quite cover her ass and a blouse tied open to reveal a set of sagging tits, she looked well-used and strung out. Women didn’t fare well inside The Crew. Two years spent servicing these men was equivalent to ten on the street. They were that demanding and abusive.

He’d never met Mona before, but he knew her instantly. The anxiety on her heart-shaped face, pale in contrast to the dye job that made her hair jet-black, gave her identity away. He nodded once as their eyes met. Then she used the tip of the domination whip she carried as part of her sexy attire to point at the door across the hall from him, and that was it. She disappeared. When the front door slammed, he knew she was getting the hell away.

Probably a good idea to go while she could. Whether she’d played it straight or sold him out, life was about to get interesting.

Or over.

Taking the gun from his waistband, he checked to make sure the safety was off. Then he stood to one side and opened the door of the room she’d indicated.

Two men sat at a desk, counting stacks of money—the night’s take. The closest one looked up, wearing a scowl, angry to be interrupted. But the expression on his face changed the second he saw Virgil’s gun. As his mouth formed an O, his eyes cut to his own weapon, a pistol lying within reach on the shelf.

“Go for it and I’ll shoot you,” Virgil murmured, his voice low.

“You do, and you’ll never get out of here.” A large man stood behind the first, head shaved, cheeks scarred by acne. This had to be Horse. Although Virgil had never met him, Rex had said enough about The Crew’s leader for Virgil to be able to pick him out of a crowd, especially a crowd of two. Not many men stood six foot eight and had such a bulbous nose, such bad skin.

“Horse.” Virgil managed a congenial smile. “Nice to finally make your acquaintance.”

Horse bared large yellow teeth as he laughed, and Virgil wondered if that was where he’d gotten his name. “You’re crazy for coming here.”

“A point I’m more than willing to concede.” Crazy was one thing, but Horse hadn’t expected such a brazen move and that was important. Virgil could read his surprise; the man wasn’t prepared, which meant Mona hadn’t double-crossed him, after all.

If this ended well, Virgil promised himself he’d thank her properly.

“Gully, if you’ll step out of the way, I’ll let you live,” he said to the stout man still standing in front.

Gully smoothed the leather vest he wore without a shirt. More biker style than street gang, it wasn’t a good look for him. He was overweight and his complexion was far too pasty to pull it off, especially during an L.A. summer. But it showed his tattoos, which was probably the whole idea. “How do you know my name?”

Virgil grinned. “I know everything.”

“Then you should also know that I’m not gonna let you shoot a fellow Crew member.”

“Your choice.” He lifted his gun. He didn’t plan on shooting Gully. Horse was tall enough that he could drop him if he had to. But he’d have to deal with Gully grabbing that pistol as soon as Horse fell behind him and was trying to decide how he’d get out of the room without taking a bullet himself. As determined as he was to save his family, to be free of The Crew at last, the prospect of killing someone, even Horse, didn’t sit well with him. He’d killed before, in prison. But he’d had no choice.

He felt he had no choice here, either. Yet it wasn’t the same, wasn’t two men coming at him with homemade knives.

“You leave me and my family alone, I’ll let you live, too,” he told Horse.

“I don’t make deals.” Horse made a move as if he was going to grab Gully’s gun. He couldn’t reach it, but Virgil couldn’t tell that when he fired. The bullet hit Horse in the shoulder. A dark spot bloomed on his shirt. Then Gully went for the gun, as expected, so Virgil had to shoot him, too.

Aiming for the leg, he hit Gully somewhere in that region. Gully crumpled, moaning. Virgil had only seconds before everyone else in the house descended on him, a split second in which to finish Horse off. But Horse had ducked behind the desk, making it impossible to get the kind of shot he needed, and Gully somehow managed to squeeze off a round in the interim.

Virgil heard the bullet strike the wall behind him. Close, but not close enough. Gully was in too much pain to aim straight. Or he didn’t know how to hit a target. Regardless, the noise had attracted attention. Footsteps pounded down the hall, coming toward them. From the shouts accompanying those footsteps, at least a hundred Crew members were rushing to Horse’s aid—but Virgil knew that was panic talking. Realistically, it was probably five or six.

Still, he was already outnumbered. And now there’d be no going out the way he’d come in. The futility of what he’d tried to do struck him in that moment, but so did the memory of burning that picture of Peyton and Brady. He couldn’t let his family down. Laurel or Rex, either. He wouldn’t let them down, not as long as he had the breath to keep fighting.

Firing again, he hit Gully in the gun arm, and the pistol fell to the carpet. The fat bean counter was neutralized. But Horse was very much alive. In between cursing and calling for help, he tried to shove Gully out of the way so he could reach the fallen gun. When he couldn’t do that without exposing himself, he pulled Gully in front and used him as a human shield.

“This is the leader you were willing to die for?” Virgil shouted.

Red-faced and gasping, Gully managed to wriggle out of Horse’s grasp, leaving him unprotected for only a second.

That was all Virgil needed. Planning to crash through the window in order to get out, Virgil crossed the room while firing into Horse’s corner again and again. Splinters and Sheetrock dust rained down on them but Virgil was moving too fast to see if he’d hit Horse. At this point, everything was a smoky blur.

At the last minute, he had the presence of mind to shoot the window. He thought that might make it easier to break. But he didn’t get the chance to jump through it. He was on the bed just a foot away when the other Crew members began pouring into the room.

Although his gun was empty, bullets began flying—from their guns. It took only a split second for one, then another, to hit him in the back.