In Seconds (Bulletproof 2)
Page 72He knew the reason she’d required that promise was no longer valid. Her secret was out; as far as he knew she had nothing left to hide. But that was just the point. Now that she had no reason to deny him, he was afraid of how hard he might fall if she started saying yes. “If you want to spell it out.”
“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “You—you’re not why I stayed, in case you were wondering. There are a lot of other things here in Pineview. Good things.”
“I agree.”
A hard lump had formed in the pit of his stomach, but he forced himself to move on. “So what’s your plan? Don’t tell me you’re just going to hang around and wait for the worst.”
“That’s about my only option, isn’t it?” She shrugged but there was a tension in her body that hadn’t been there before. He could see it in the way she held herself. “I’m the bait that’ll draw them out.”
He felt his eyebrows shoot up. “And then what?”
“As far as plans go, it’s not complicated. I try to kill them before they kill me.”
“Have you ever killed anyone before?”
“No. But I’ve seen men killed.” Her voice fell until he could scarcely hear her. “And I’ve been the reason others have died.”
As terrible as that must have been, it wasn’t the same. That was outside her control. This wouldn’t be. She’d have to squeeze the trigger herself. But he didn’t see the point in trying to differentiate. “That doesn’t matter. If you think I’m going to let you go it alone, you’re crazy.”
He ignored her reference to what he thought of her. He thought more of her than she realized, but it wouldn’t help him maintain any emotional distance to admit it. “No one’s going to get hurt. Not on my watch. Grab whatever you’re going to need. Tonight we’re staying at my place.”
She hopped off the bed. “I can’t do that!”
He finally came inside the room. “Why not?”
“For the same reason I wouldn’t stay with Claire. If you’re not worried about your own safety, what about Marley?”
“She’s not home. She’s with a friend.”
She reached out to grab his arm, but caught herself before making contact. “Please, don’t. Every time I think of you trying to stop them, I see…I see the U.S. marshal who…” She choked up so much she couldn’t finish.
He wanted to relent and hold her. But he couldn’t, not without rekindling the desire he’d experienced at the cabin. And doing that would only make the rest of the night too difficult to get through. Not to mention the rest of the week, the month, the year.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he told himself he didn’t want to feel her against him. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. “You’re tired, overwrought. You need some rest.”
“I’ll be fine. I know what I’m up against.”
“It’s Vivian,” she said softly.
“Why choose that persona?”
“Because that’s who I am to you. That’s who I’ve become even to me. At least for now.”
He had a feeling those words held more meaning than their easiest interpretation—that he was most familiar with that name—but he refused to examine it. He had to convince her to stay with him; if he wanted to keep her safe, he had no choice about that. “Vivian, then. Let me take care of you for a little while.”
Her eyes, so pretty and yet so haunted, pleaded with him to understand. “But what if—”
“I’m not going to be hurt.” Suddenly angry, he scowled at her. “Stop turning down the help you need, okay?”
He started taking clothes out of her drawers. He didn’t care what they were; he figured if she wouldn’t cooperate he’d gather up as much as he could hold, and that would have to be good enough. There was no way she was staying here even if he had to carry her out. “Tomorrow we’ll put you in a safe place, somewhere no one else in town knows about and—”
“No.” She grabbed his arm. He meant to shake her off so he could continue, but he turned and stared at her instead and the memories he’d been fighting flooded through his mind—the taste of her kiss, the softness of her skin, the moment he’d first buried himself inside her.
Surprised by whatever she’d seen in his face, she let go.
He didn’t get the impression she believed it would be that easy. But, with a resigned nod, she got a bag and helped him finish packing.
After what seemed like an interminable silence, Virgil checked the minutes he’d used on the prepaid cell phone he’d purchased for this call. Fifteen. Already. Shit. He thought he’d bought more than enough. How long did it take to threaten somebody? He should’ve guessed it wouldn’t go smoothly. Nothing involving The Crew ever did…?.
Pivoting in front of the windows overlooking the parking lot at his office, he waited for the guy who’d answered his call to bring Horse to the phone. He’d never actually spoken to Horse before. He knew his real name was Harold Pew, but he’d never actually used it. As with most prison gangs, everyone went by nicknames—and Virgil didn’t have to think too hard to guess how Horse had gotten his.
At least he had something to offer the ladies. From what Virgil had heard, Horse was a big, pockmarked ugly son of a bitch—and a mean one, too. Since Horse had taken over leadership of The Crew’s foot soldiers living in Los Angeles, the power had gone to his head.
“Is this some sort of joke?” A deep, raspy voice barked this question into the phone. Since Virgil had asked for Horse, he could only assume it was him.
Finally. Virgil had been about to hang up, return to the store to load the phone with more minutes and call back. “Surprise!” he crooned. “Must be your birthday, eh?”