Inside (27 page)

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. called 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.

R
ather 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.”

Virgil’s hands curled into fists, and Peyton quickly stepped between the two men. She had to defuse this situation right away.

“You need to calm down. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He yanked on his tie, loosening it. “Yes, I do! I’ve told you what I can offer you. And I’m not just talking about a good living and professional success. You’re right—this isn’t all about our jobs. Would you
really
rather be with him than me? You’re
that
interested in screwing around with this murderer?”

Tension rolled off Virgil like a tsunami, making her fear where this might end. She grabbed his arm while she tried to placate Rick. “Let’s leave all the personal stuff out of this, okay? I called Virgil in here because I wanted to discuss Weston’s note. It’s his life on the line, not yours. He has a better feel for what’s happening,
what the Hells Fury might do. He knows what to expect from gang members.” With her free hand, she gestured toward Weston’s note, which she’d set out on the desk before Virgil arrived. “I just wanted to show him what Jager gave me. See what
he
thought we should do. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

She thought he’d rant about the risk of exposure and blowing the whole operation, but he didn’t. “So you figured you’d start by showing him a little titty?”

Virgil jerked away from her. “That’s enough!”

“Stay out of this,” Rick said. “You have nothing to do with it.”

“You’ll see how much I have to do with it if you keep this up.”

They circled Peyton while she struggled to keep them apart. “Look, you’re both acting…crazy, okay?”

“I’m not acting crazy at all,” Rick said. “I’ve asked you both not to let your personal feelings interfere with the operation.”

“But it’s okay if
your
personal feelings interfere?” Virgil said.

Rick turned to her. “You had no good reason to bring him in here. You didn’t need to discuss that note with him. I’d already told you what to do.”

She couldn’t claim he hadn’t been clear because he had. “I was gathering
more
information. I want to be sure we’re making the right decision.”

His gaze dropped and she realized that her top button was still unfastened, partially exposing her bra—and Virgil’s medallion. “So it’s dangerous men who excite you, Peyton? That’s the secret? You’d rather whore for prison trash than have a legitimate relationship with an upstanding citizen? How many of the others guys in this prison have you done?”

Virgil’s chains rattled as he tried to circumvent her, but Peyton grabbed him again. She didn’t think he’d have much trouble punishing Wallace, even with his sutures and his hands cuffed. It was the consequences he’d suffer that she hoped to avoid. “No,” she told Virgil. “Don’t you see what he’s doing?”

Once again, he jerked loose of her grasp, but he didn’t advance on Wallace. “Of course I see it. I’m not going to hurt the little prick, even though he deserves it. What I
am
going to do is give him exactly what he wants.”

This seemed to surprise Rick. “Which is what?”

“The man who ordered the hit on Judge Garcia. And I’ll do it without making any deals with Weston Jager.”

That slowed Rick down. “Even if he can help you get inside?” he asked.

“If we trust him, it’s all over.”

“You can get in on your own?”

“That was the plan from the beginning, wasn’t it? I’m making progress with Buzz. I’ll get you the evidence to bust the HF for that judge’s murder. All you have to do is keep Laurel and the kids safe and leave Peyton alone.”

Rick gave him a dirty look. “Peyton is none of your affair.”

“Then unlock these.” Virgil held out his cuffed wrists. “I’ll find another way to protect Laurel and start a new life.”

Peyton was hoping Virgil
would
quit the operation. She reached into her briefcase and got the key, but Wallace stopped her. He’d already lost his marriage. He had to realize by now that he wasn’t going to get her. Why not hang on to what he’d originally hoped to accomplish
with Operation Inside? Considering how much he cared about his career, that was better than nothing.

“Fine.” He shoved a hand through his hair, standing it upright, which made him look as crazy as he’d been acting. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s…let’s not be too hasty. We need to think this through.”

“
I
don’t need to think it through,” Virgil said. “I know what I want.”

Rick gestured to Peyton. “And what you want includes her.”

“If you can’t accept that, say so now, and we’ll make changes.”

A tense silence gripped the room. Virgil and Rick glared at each other; Peyton waited, holding her breath.

Finally Rick stretched the muscles in his neck as if he had a headache. “No, let’s finish it. That’s all we can do at this point.”

Virgil wasn’t quite so quick to agree. “There’ll be no second chances. You do or say
anything
to Peyton that I don’t like, and it’s over, you understand? I may be prison trash but I take care of my own.”

“If you think your relationship with her will last, you’re deluded,” Rick scoffed.

Virgil glanced at her. She detected a trace of uncertainty—he feared Rick was right—but he was determined not to betray how he felt. “You let me worry about that.”

“So we leave Weston in the SHU?” Rick clarified.

“That’s exactly what we do.”

The associate director smiled as if he couldn’t wait for everything to blow up in their faces. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Virgil grinned back at him but there wasn’t an ounce of amiability in it. “That’s how I like it.”

“Don’t be
too
sure of yourself,” Rick warned. “Your pals in The Crew tracked Eddie Glover down and shot him three times.”

Virgil’s muscles went taut. “No…”

“I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Is he dead?” His voice sounded strangled.

“No. He’s going to make it.”

“Then The Crew must know where Virgil is,” Peyton said. “And you were aware of it.”

Rick lifted a hand as if asking her not to leap to conclusions. “Eddie swears he didn’t tell them where you are.”

“Then he didn’t,” Virgil said. “He wouldn’t hang me out to dry.”

Rick didn’t back off. “But there’s something else you should know.”

“And that is…?” With his eyelids half-closed, Virgil’s expression revealed the contempt he felt for Rick.

“The Crew found your sister, too. Last night.”

Virgil’s face went blank. He didn’t move. He made no sound. And yet Peyton could sense the intensity of his reaction.

“Are Laurel and the kids okay?” She was afraid of what Virgil would do if they weren’t.

“They’re a little shaken up but otherwise fine,” Rick said. “I wish I could say the same for the U.S. marshal who was with her.”

Peyton’s stomach knotted. “He’s dead?”

Rick’s eyes grew even cooler when they shifted to her. He seemed to feel she’d let him down, that she’d
owed
him some debt of gratitude and commitment just because he’d wanted her. “That’s right.” And because
he knew it would upset her, he seemed almost happy to add, “They slit his throat.”

This was exactly the type of thing Peyton had feared. She covered her mouth as she tried to absorb this news.

Virgil’s nostrils flared. “You’re sure Laurel and the kids got away? Because if you’re lying to me—”

Wallace pulled out his cell phone and showed Virgil the text he’d received. “See for yourself. They’ve been moved out of Colorado and are in protective custody again.”

Virgil stared at the floor for several seconds before speaking. “How’d they get away?”

“There were three men who came to the house. One ended up turning on the others.”

Confusion drew his eyebrows together. “
Who
turned?”

“You can’t guess? You were one of them.”

Virgil didn’t appreciate Wallace’s smirk. “I don’t even know who was there.”

“Pretty Boy, Pointblank and Ink. You recognize them by their nicknames, don’t you?”

“Pretty Boy.”

“That’s right. He told Laurel he was your best friend.” Rick looked at Peyton. “You have yourself quite a man here. He keeps company with the crème de la crème.”

“Are you trying to
completely
ruin my opinion of you?” she muttered.

“Why not?” he replied. “You’ve ruined mine of you.”

If Virgil heard their exchange, he didn’t react to it. Was he regretting his decision to leave The Crew? Was he tempted to put an end to all of this by returning to
the gang? Had Rick convinced him that he was reaching too far by wanting more than he had, by wanting
her?

Virgil was so hard to read; it was difficult to say. But Peyton knew she ran the risk of losing him to The Crew as much as anything else. He was a good man, but he was still a product of his past. Changing his life
that
drastically was almost impossible. Everyone he knew, everything he’d done, even the people he met now—people like Rick who judged him by his past—worked, like gravity, to hold him in place. And if he went back, those he loved would no longer be at risk. That had to be the biggest draw of all.

“Where’s Pretty Boy?” he asked.

“If we knew that, we’d have him arrested,” Rick said.

A muscle jumped in Virgil’s cheek.
“For saving Laurel’s life?”

“For killing the marshal.”

Virgil stared down his nose at the smaller man. “Too bad
you
weren’t still standing guard.”

His meaning was too clear to miss. Rick’s cheeks grew mottled. “Pardon me?”

Virgil didn’t bother repeating it. “What about Pointblank and Ink?”

Rick’s voice was sulky. “Pointblank’s dead. Ink’s in the ICU, with two police officers guarding him.”

His mind filled with God knew what, Virgil squared his shoulders. “Does it look as if Ink will recover?”

How much did he care about Ink? Peyton wondered. And what about Pointblank, who’d died? Those men had been his friends. What he was feeling couldn’t be pleasant. People he’d once cared about had shot someone named Eddie, who seemed important to him, and
tried to do the same to his sister. The casualties were mounting….

“Who can say?” Wallace replied. “Right now he’s hanging on by a thread.” To add more emphasis to what he was about to say, he stepped closer. “So does this change where we’re at? Do you still want to play it without bringing Weston Jager into our confidence?”

Peyton didn’t appreciate the challenge in his tone. “Wait a second. You can’t expect him to go back inside after learning that Eddie—”

“Eddie didn’t tell them,” Virgil interrupted. “And if I give up now, Eddie’s pain, my sister’s fear, that fight in the dining hall, what Pretty Boy did…it’ll all be for nothing.”

“But even if Weston didn’t know about you before, he probably does now,” Peyton argued. “Maybe Eddie didn’t tell them but they found your sister
somehow.
There has to be a leak.”

“It’s a gamble we’ve got to take.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. The odds have gotten worse. Much worse.”

He brushed off her concern. “I’ll just have to be more convincing.” Chains rattling, he gestured toward the phone with his cuffed hands. “Call for an escort. I’m going to my cell.”

It wasn’t easy to concentrate. Virgil was playing chess with Buzz on the tier, trying to keep up appearances, but his wound hurt and his mind kept returning to Peyton and what had occurred in that conference room. He had so much to worry about—and yet she overshadowed it all. Was Rick Wallace right? Would he be able to keep her? Considering their circumstances, he had little faith
in that, and yet…he couldn’t stop wanting her, couldn’t stop hoping.

At least thinking about her helped him escape the guilt that plagued him. Pretty Boy had done him the biggest favor in the world, had saved the people he loved most, and by doing so had put himself in a terrible position—all for the sake of a friendship Virgil couldn’t even maintain. Where had Rex gone after leaving the safe house? He didn’t have anywhere
to
go, did he? He couldn’t go back to The Crew. They’d be looking to put a bullet in him.

I’ve made a mess of the lives of everyone around me, everyone I care about.
But there was no way to tear himself from the fabric of The Crew without making a hole. Had he been wrong to accept the government’s offer? He’d justified it by telling himself he
should
put Laurel ahead of his brothers in The Crew. He’d never believed in their ideology. He didn’t want to be like them or continue to associate with them. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care about certain members. Pretty Boy had been part of his life for
fourteen years,
Pointblank for six. It wasn’t as if he saw them as bad people. In prison the line between good and evil blurred too much, especially in that length of time.