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Inside
  • Текст добавлен: 26 октября 2016, 21:49

Текст книги "Inside"


Автор книги: Brenda Novak



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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

32

Peyton wasn’t sure exactly what drew her attention. One minute she was happily stuffing a change of clothes into a small overnight case, eager and excited to see Virgil. The next she felt a trickle of fear slide down her spine like a cold, wet hand, leaving goose bumps in its wake. It might’ve been a creak or a rustle that didn’t sound like the usual settling noises. Whatever set her off hadn’t been big because she couldn’t identify it. She just had the impression that she was no longer alone.

Standing over the bag she’d been packing, she listened more carefully. She was imagining things, wasn’t she? Virgil had been frightened for her, hadn’t wanted her to be out by herself. But surely The Crew wouldn’t be able to find out where she lived and come after her this fast.

Or maybe they could….

She glanced at the bed, the nightstand, the floor, searching for her cell phone, even patted the pockets of the jeans she’d just pulled on before remembering—she’d left it in her purse out in the Volvo. At least she had the home phone. She hurried around the bed to the nightstand and dialed 9-1-1, but before the operator could come on, footsteps, moving on the floor above her, nearly made her pee her pants. She didn’t want to be trapped in her bedroom, with nowhere to run and no way to defend herself. There wasn’t even a door to the outside down here, or a window that opened. She’d either have to break the glass overlooking the sea and figure out how to scramble through it, or she’d have to get out the way she’d gotten in—by the stairs.

Then she heard a different sound, this one much closer, and realized the stairs weren’t an option. Someone was already coming down them. She could see a man’s tennis shoes and denim-covered legs just before a tatted hand came into view gripping a giant knife.

“Emergency Services. Can you give me the nature of your emergency, please?”

She gulped for enough air to be able to talk. “There’s a man in my house!” she screamed.

The second he found her, Shady grabbed the handrail and used it to support himself so he could jump the rest of the stairs. He was hoping to reach the chief deputy before she could get the door shut, but he didn’t make it. Dropping the phone, she darted forward and managed to slam and lock the door as he landed. Which only enraged him. Now he wanted to kill her just for trying to resist. And he would. He had her cornered. All he had to do was get through one flimsy barrier.

“Hey, Virgil sent you a surprise,” he called out. “He wants me to show you what it feels like to be raped in the ass like some of those stupid bastards in that prison you run.” He’d been one of those bastards once. Years ago. The “jocker” who’d used him actually looked a lot like Virgil, but the similarities ended there. Shady had never known Virgil to have a homosexual relationship. Somehow, he’d always managed to defend himself even though he’d gone to prison at a younger age than Shady had, and that made Shady hate him all the more.

Spurred on by his desire to outdistance those memories, he hit the door again. This bitch thought she could keep him out? She was crazy. He’d get in. The door was already beginning to splinter. She didn’t understand who she was dealing with, didn’t know that he was obliterating Virgil when he obliterated her. And, fortunately, he could batter the door all day because he didn’t feel any pain.

“The police are on their way!” she shouted. “Get out of here—unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Briefly, his mind flashed back to Where the Red Fern Grows, a book given to him by his fifth-grade teacher and probably the only one he’d ever read from start to finish. In it, the boy caught a raccoon by putting a shiny piece of tin or something—he couldn’t remember exactly what—in a homemade trap. When the raccoon reached in to take the object, he couldn’t get his hand out. The animal could escape if he let go of what he wanted, but he wouldn’t….

Was he making the same mistake? Maybe. But he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he walked away at this point; his self-esteem couldn’t tolerate such a defeat.

Lowering his shoulder, he crashed into the door yet again and heard a loud pop as it gave way.

When Rex found Peyton’s cabin, her car was parked in the drive. Everything looked fine. Skin was probably worried about nothing. But as long as he was here, he might as well let her know that Virgil was concerned about her, that he’d been trying to reach her. Maybe her cell phone had died and she’d forgotten to charge it….

He pulled in behind her car and got out. But just as he reached the stairs, he heard a woman scream from inside.

Son of bitch! Yanking his gun from the waistband of his jeans, he took the steps two at a time. But before he could get to the landing, a gunshot rang out from the forest.

Shocked, he crouched low and peered through the slats of the handrail, hoping to see who was out there, when another shot went off. And this time he felt a searing pain in his chest and the hand that held his gun went numb.

Two gunshots sounded outside, seconds apart, making Peyton wonder if she really wanted to escape the house. What was going on? Were the police having a standoff with The Crew? If so, she didn’t want to walk into the middle of it. She couldn’t get out, anyway. She’d thrown everything she could at the window with little success. Anyone who was here to help her would have to come inside. She’d managed to crack the safety glass in a few places by swinging a lamp at it, but she hadn’t had enough time to actually make a hole.

She still held the lamp—which was her only weapon—but as soon as the door broke open she had to turn and face her intruder. It was Shady, The Crew leader Virgil had told her about. His name was tattooed on his arm.

Although briefly tempted to make a mad dash for the small bathroom attached to her bedroom, that door didn’t have a lock. It wouldn’t take a man more than a few seconds to force it open. And if she allowed him to corner her in there, she’d have no room to maneuver, wouldn’t even be able to swing the lamp. Her only hope was to get around him and up the stairs—but she couldn’t imagine how she’d do that when he stood in the doorway, blocking her path.

“What a pleasant surprise.” He gave her an appreciative smile. “You’re not butt-ugly, after all.”

Chest heaving with fear and adrenaline, she held the lamp at the ready. “Stay away from me!”

“Leave it to Virgil to get himself a piece of that.” He licked his lips as he looked her up and down. “You can’t say he doesn’t have good taste.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not puttin’ out for Skin?”

She couldn’t admit to the relationship. “No, of course not! You’re wasting your time.”

He waved toward her chest. “Then why you wearin’ his coin?”

The medallion! That The Crew might recognize its significance hadn’t even crossed her mind. She normally wore it under her clothes, but when she changed she’d pulled it out over her turtleneck sweater. “He gave it to me as a…a bribe.”

Sure he did.” The blade of the knife in his hand gleamed against the fading light. The sun was setting, creating a spectacular display of various shades of purple outside her window. It would soon be dark. Would she live to see another day? Or would this be her last sunset?

“We can make this easy, or we can make it hard.” He winked. “The easy way would mean you put down the lamp.”

“Go to hell.” There was another gunshot outside. That gave Peyton hope, especially when Shady cocked his head to listen. She could tell he was as curious about those shots as she was. They made him nervous enough that he stopped toying with her and moved in close, eyes glittering with intent.

“Sounds like we might have to skip the foreplay and get right to business.”

Her throat as dry as parchment, she swallowed and stepped back until there was nowhere to go. “And that business would be…?”

“Saying a permanent goodbye to you.”

Screaming as he darted forward, she swung the lamp with all her strength, but he ducked, and when it didn’t connect, the momentum knocked her off balance. He took advantage of that by grabbing her makeshift weapon with his free hand, wrenching it from her grasp and throwing it aside at the same time he thrust with his knife.

Pain exploded in Peyton’s arm. Dazed, she stood staring at the blood pouring from the wound. Her mind urged her to continue fighting. He was about to thrust again. She could see the knife coming. But she could no longer use her right arm, which had far more strength and dexterity than her left.

At the last second, she tried blocking his knife with her other arm. This time he attempted to hit a more vital area and missed altogether when she jumped to one side.

He was finally out of her path to the door, so she made a dash for the stairs. Getting out was her only choice. But she tripped on the lamp and stumbled, and he managed to grab her by the hair. She felt sure he’d stab her in the throat or maybe the stomach or chest, but there wasn’t anything she could do to stop him. She was completely vulnerable.

“Virgil will kill you for this,” she said, and braced for the worst. But a fourth gunshot went off, this one so loud it made her ears ring. Then Shady dropped like a stone to the floor.

Shaking and crying, she scrambled away from him as fast as she could. She wasn’t sure if he was dead and didn’t want to risk being stabbed again. She also wanted to see who’d shot him.

The man who staggered into her bedroom used the wall to prop himself up. Blood soaked his shirt, his right arm hung limp at his side and the other held a gun. With his tattoo sleeves and unusually pale face, he looked almost as scary as Shady. But he was far handsomer, and she knew everything would be okay when he closed his eyes, drew a deep breath so he could speak and said, “Don’t be…afraid. I’m…Virgil’s best friend.”



Epilogue

Eighteen months later…

Virgil watched Peyton as she got up from her lounge chair to go inside the house and get more drinks. They were close to the baby’s due date and that made him worry about her. He’d asked her to request some time off work—he’d received his $700,000 settlement and his own business was going well enough that they didn’t need the income. But she’d refused. She said she was still too new at the federal correctional institution in Cumberland, Maryland, and that she had two months before she’d need to take maternity leave. She didn’t want to be a weak link. And there was no talking her out of it.

At least she was working with medium-security offenders now; she seemed to enjoy her job, and she insisted that she felt great. She certainly looked good. But as far as Virgil was concerned, that had always been the case. As the pregnancy progressed, she complained about water retention and getting fat, but he knew how excited she was to be able to have this baby, and all he saw was the woman he loved.

Rex pointed to the article Virgil had found online this morning and printed out to show them. “So Rick Wallace has finally been sentenced.”

“All thanks to Mona,” Virgil responded with a chuckle. “What were the chances?” If she hadn’t told Pretty Boy—Rex—how Shady had learned of Virgil’s whereabouts, he probably would’ve gotten away with what he’d done.

“Took them long enough,” Rex said.

Virgil picked up his beer. His sister, Laurel, and the kids were in the yard, playing with a kiddie pool. They’d come for the party, but he saw her often. She lived just down the street. “Losing his job and spending five years behind bars won’t be easy on him. But it’s too bad he’ll be doing time at a medium-security prison instead of the kind we used to know.”

Rex scowled. “In my opinion, he deserves more than he got. Why do you think they went so easy on him?”

Virgil squinted against the sun as he glanced at the barbecue, where he had some chicken and burgers grilling. “He had no prior record and wasn’t the one who gave up Laurel’s whereabouts, so he got off easy. Unless you count Meeks and Shady, no one actually died as a result of his actions. If they could’ve blamed the marshal’s murder on him, it would’ve been a different story.”

“I wish they could figure out who told them how to find Laurel.”

“So do I. But it looks as though it won’t happen.”

Rex’s gaze once again strayed to Laurel, who was refilling the pool.

Virgil nudged his foot under the table.

“What?” he said.

“You could be a little less obvious, you know.”

His friend scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re kidding, right? You drool every time my sister comes within ten feet of you.”

Rex lifted his beer to shield his mouth from Laurel and lowered his voice. “Shut up! She’ll hear you.”

“Seriously, it’s been a year and a half since you first met. You should ask her out.”

“She’ll let me know when she’s ready.”

Virgil got up to check the burgers. “After what she’s been through, she might not recognize when she’s ready,” he murmured. “Make your move.”

Rex whistled under his breath. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

“She’s a handful. I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy,” he teased. “But I already know you’re a glutton for punishment and won’t listen.”

Rex stretched out his legs so he could cross them at the ankles. “Come on, what’re you saying? You’d give your life for her.”

“I know. That’s why I’d like to see her with someone like you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You mean an ex-con? I’ve never been exonerated….”

“Stop feeling unworthy. You’ve turned your life around.”

“And if our past catches up with us?”

“The Crew won’t ever find us here. We have brand-new identities and we’re living on the opposite side of the country.”

“If we could get used to our new names, Charles Pembroke.”

“We’re getting there, Perry Smith. Ask her out.”

“Nah.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “For a tough guy, you’re sure a chickenshit.”

“Maybe when I have more to offer.”

“What more do you need?” Virgil wanted to know. “You’ve wanted her since before you even met her, and our business is doing great. That’s plenty to offer.” As a matter of fact, Ex-Con Protection, a bodyguard service, had grown much faster than either of them had expected. By next year, they’d each be making more than Peyton. And it wasn’t hard to make more than Laurel, since she couldn’t seem to settle into any one thing. Virgil worried about her. Although their uncle was finally in prison serving a fifteen-year sentence, their mother had settled down with yet another man in L.A. and their lives had become considerably calmer, his sister still seemed restless. He wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forget everything that had happened, but he knew from experience that it would help her heal if she could find someone special to love.

“You’re perfect for her,” he said.

“I don’t know, man.” Rex rearranged the appetizers on his plate before risking another glance at Virgil’s sister. “What if she shuts me down?”

“Then she shuts you down. What have you got to lose? She’s not in your bed at night as it is.”

Rex blew out a sigh. “Oh, what the hell. I’ve had just enough beer to let you talk me into this.” Taking one last swallow, he crushed his can, tossed it in the recycle bucket and walked over to talk to Laurel.

Peyton returned to find Viril watching Rex and Laurel while he flipped the burgers and Mia and Jake splashed in the pool. “What’s going on?” she asked.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, then jerked his head toward Laurel and Rex. “I think he’s finally going to ask her out.”


Copyright © 2011 by Brenda Novak, Inc.

All rights reserved.


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