Thinking it might help him find “Ron” and “Peter” if he put a notice about them in the paper, he called Chester. Chester was already in bed, but his wife woke him and he immediately agreed to do a write-up. Myles hung up just as the timer went off on the lasagna.
“Now that I’m too tired to eat,” he grumbled. He’d been going on very little sleep for the better part of a week and had pushed himself extra hard today. He was determined to solve Pat’s murder. Keeping his mind occupied also stopped him from obsessing over Vivian. The jealousy that’d reared up this morning hadn’t gone anywhere. It simmered in the background, making him glance out his kitchen window every so often to see if Rex’s motorcycle was still parked where he’d seen it earlier.
As of two seconds ago, it was. Two minutes before that it’d been there, too. The same held true for ten minutes earlier and so on. Myles was pretty sure, at this point, that Rex was staying the night.
Did that mean he’d be sleeping on the sofa?
Myles was staring into space as he contemplated this question when the doorbell rang. Turning off the timer, he retrieved the slow-cooking lasagna and sat it on top of the stove so he could answer the door. It was late, too late for regular guests. So he hoped Vivian had come to talk about last night, or at least explain her relationship with her unexpected visitor.
But it wasn’t his neighbor. It was his neighbor’s guest.
A fresh spurt of dislike caused Myles to stiffen. Despite Rex’s shabby appearance, most women would find him attractive, Myles had to admit. He had a reckless, rock-star air about him that, unfortunately, extended to his not-so-well-hidden drug habit. Myles didn’t want to notice the sheen of sweat that made Rex’s T-shirt cling to him, the clammy pallor of his skin or the slight trembling of his hands. Myles had enough going on without worrying about some out-of-towner’s addiction. In fact, he wished he could forget Rex and Vivian, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Not after making love to her at the cabin.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
A toothpick dangled from Rex’s mouth. He chewed on it, apparently in no hurry to respond.
“Well?” Myles prompted.
Rex moved the toothpick to one side with his tongue. “Can I come in?”
Myles gave him a somewhat hesitant nod—his agreement stemmed more from curiosity than anything else—and held the door. “If you want.”
After a quick glance at the light glowing in Vivian’s kitchen, Rex frowned and stepped inside. Then he looked around and gave a grudging nod. “Nice.”
Oddly enough, Myles got the impression that compliment was sincere. But a bitter note also rang through what Rex had said, and that stopped Myles from offering any kind of thanks. “I assume you didn’t come over to check out my place.”
“No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, probably to hide the shaking. “I came over to ask you a favor.”
Myles had to catch his jaw to keep it from dropping. “You want something from me?”
The facade created by Rex’s I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude and that tough-guy toothpick routine cracked when he had to reach for a wall to steady himself. Myles almost felt sorry for him. Vivian’s friend, or whatever he was to her, was too proud to be in this position. “You need a doctor,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re doing a very good job.”
A self-deprecating smile twisted his lips. “Yeah, well, not all of us can be like you.”
“If you hate me so much, or what this uniform stands for, why are you in my living room?”
“To tell you this.” He grimaced, whether from pain or a general reluctance to continue, Myles couldn’t tell. Humility didn’t come easy for this guy. The only reason Myles could imagine he’d come over was that he had no other choice.
“I’m waiting.”
“Vivian needs you. I can’t…I can’t protect her right now.” His eyes grew watery, another sign of weakness he no doubt despised, but it was this subtle evidence of caring that evoked enough respect to temper, somewhat, Myles’s previous opinion of him. At least Rex was sincere. At least he was worried about someone other than himself.
“What is she to you?” Myles wished this question wasn’t so transparent, but…there it was.
Rex studied him before responding. “I’m a friend. We used to be more, but…” He shook his head. “We’re no good as a couple. I’m no good for her,” he clarified, being more honest. “She needs someone like you, someone who could be the father her children deserve, someone with a decent job and a house.” He waved at the trappings around them. “You care about her, don’t you?”
There was no arguing that she meant something to him, but Myles wasn’t willing to examine what, not in front of Rex. Nor did he appreciate the idea that he might be some sort of consolation prize. “I don’t want to see her hurt, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Then you’re going to have to do your part.”
Myles rested his hands on his hips. He’d taken off his utility belt. That thing weighed about twenty pounds and he didn’t like lugging it around the house, but he hadn’t changed out of his uniform yet. “What is my part, exactly? Is this where you tell me about her abusive ex-husband?”
Rex wiped the sweat beading his upper lip. “No, this is where I tell you that someone’s trying to kill her.”
He was serious. Dead serious. Suddenly Vivian’s bringing that gun home from the bank made a whole lot more sense. So did her fear after hearing about Pat’s murder. “And it’s not her ex?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“The threat isn’t new. We’ve been in WitSec for four years. Well, we were in for two, until we left D.C. When The Crew found us there and came after us again, we figured there had to be a leak. So we abandoned the program and split up, hoping we could finally shake them.”
“Who are The Crew?”
“They’re members of a relatively new prison gang in California. Her brother and I used to belong.”
“That doesn’t tell me much. Why do they want her dead?”
“Payback. It’s a long story, but basically they’re determined to avenge a couple of deaths they blame us for, as well as a few convictions that wouldn’t have been possible without information we provided.”