Inside (Bulletproof 1)
Page 61But this morning she felt certain there’d been some exchange she’d missed between Wallace and Virgil—and wondered about the nature of it.
“You two okay?” she murmured as she put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of each.
Rick sat closest to the stove. He’d been reading the paper and drinking coffee while she prepared breakfast. “Fine, why?”
Virgil didn’t answer her. After selecting a seat two empty chairs away from Rick and across the table from her, he kept staring out the window at his elbow as if he wasn’t sure he’d ever see the outdoors again, which made her hyperaware of the possibility that he might not.
“Because it’s colder in here than it is outside, if you get my meaning,” she said, answering Rick. “What’s going on?”
Setting the paper aside, he reached for his coffee. “Nothing.”
That assurance meant little to her, since he wasn’t the one she was concerned about. “Virgil?”
He glanced at her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“There’s not a problem.” Rick gestured to the empty seat next to him. “Quit worrying and sit down so you can eat. This is our big day.”
When he punctuated that comment with an arrogant smile directed at Virgil, Virgil shot him a look that told Peyton he was no longer pretending to like Rick. Not that he’d gone to any great lengths before….
Afraid she was at the root of the conflict, she turned back to the stove, left the rest of the eggs in the pan and poured herself a cup of coffee. It’d been a mistake to get involved with Virgil, but it’d been an even bigger mistake to try and fix what she’d done by going to Rick.
Her misgivings about the investigation edged up another notch as she waited for them to finish eating, but she’d always felt nervous about it, so she was growing used to the sense of unease. It wouldn’t do any good to speak out again, anyway. She’d been trying to get Rick to listen to her from the beginning. Virgil, too. They wouldn’t.
She carried her cup to the table, where she sat down in a chair other than the one Rick had indicated. It felt like the only neutral choice because it wasn’t any closer to Virgil than it was Wallace. “How will you manage the transfer?”
Rick stopped chewing long enough to answer. “I’ve got a couple officers from Santa Rosa coming to transport him.”
She could tell that Virgil was paying attention to the conversation, but he wouldn’t look at her. He finished his breakfast, then stared out the window some more, brooding.
“They do.” He washed down his last bite with a swallow of coffee. “I spoke to them while you were in the shower and explained that he was generating too much interest, so we moved him.”
Having Virgil picked up at the house would be so much safer than smuggling him out of the Redwood Inn. As awkward as last night had been, it was well worth the discomfort if only for this one reason. “So you won’t be coming to the prison yourself?”
“There’s no need. I want this to look very routine. So I’ll wait here until he’s been picked up. Then I’ll head back to Sacramento.” He set his fork on his plate and shoved it away. “Unless you’d be more comfortable if I stayed a day or two—to be sure he settles in okay.”
The way he glanced at her said he wanted her to act as if his presence would be welcome. But she knew it was highly unlikely that he’d really take the time, not unless there was a need greater than making her feel “comfortable.” He was showing off for Virgil’s benefit. He’d behaved in a proprietary fashion ever since he’d arrived, touching her now and then and showing more familiarity when he spoke to her. But she didn’t even want him around. At this point, she could barely stand the sight of him.
“No. I’m fine.” She added a smile so she wouldn’t be too obvious about wanting him to go. Maybe he and Mercedes would reconcile. She hoped so. She didn’t want the problem of Rick being single and available, which complicated everything. Only if he decided to put his marriage back together would he be able to forget her little faux pas with Virgil, because then he’d be focusing elsewhere, no longer looking to her as the next woman in his life.
Checking the clock, she got up. “I have to go or I’ll be late.”
“But you didn’t eat,” he said.
Virgil was finally looking at her. She could feel his gaze. But when their eyes met, the strangest bittersweet sensation swept over her. In another time, another place, she could’ve fallen in love with this man. She felt quite certain of that, even though it didn’t make a lot of sense. They hadn’t spent more than a few hours together. And they came from very different worlds. There was just…something about him.
Belatedly she realized that she’d stopped talking. She returned her attention to Rick. “If I get hungry,” she finished, but that brief interruption must’ve given her away because, in the same split second, Rick had clenched his jaw. “Just make sure everything goes smoothly on this end, okay?” she said to fill the sudden silence.
Rick smiled blandly. “Don’t worry about Virgil. He’s already killed…what, two men?” He turned to Virgil, who glared at him as if those blue irises were laser beams. Rick knew the answer to his own question. Peyton knew it, too; by Rick’s own admission, four men had jumped Virgil, but he didn’t add that. He wanted to emphasize Virgil’s background, to taunt him with it in front of her, not justify his actions. “He gets in trouble, he’ll just kill again.”
Peyton didn’t appreciate the reminder. But…maybe it was necessary. She was having trouble seeing the man she’d come to know as a murderer. Probably because she felt she’d never really lived until he’d come into her life.
“There won’t be any need for violence,” she said, and purposely dropped her purse as she picked it up off the counter.
The clatter of the contents that spilled drew Rick’s attention to the floor. He bent to gather everything up, and that gave her the opportunity she’d been hoping for. Quickly shoving one hand behind her back, she held out a note to Virgil—and felt him take it.