“Is this really Virgil Skinner?”
“Do other people call you up and impersonate me?”
“Considering how I feel about you, no one would be that stupid.”
“Then you’ve answered your own question.” Turning his back to the view, Virgil eyed his office. There were times when he woke up expecting to see the cell he’d lived in for fourteen years instead of the beautiful home he owned with Peyton. He still couldn’t believe he’d been able to change his life, that he had so much he cared about when he’d started with absolutely nothing. He was happy. Why did this have to keep cropping up?
“You have some balls, you know that?” Horse said. “What do you think you’re doing, calling me up as if we’re friends?”
“I could’ve sent an email saying, ‘I’m going to f**k you up if you don’t stop what you’re doing’ to [email protected], but I was afraid you’d discard it as just another idle threat.”
Horse laughed a bit too loudly and a bit too long. “But it is an idle threat. There’s nothing you can do to me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
“Why not?”
“I have one advantage.”
“You don’t have shit.”
“I know where you are. You can’t say the same about me.”
“But to reach me, you’d have to come through fifty other Crew.”
Virgil manufactured a laugh of his own. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, wouldn’t you say? Day to day there are maybe…five guys around at any one time.” The Crew couldn’t hang out with Horse all day. They had prostitutes to pimp, debtors to rough up, dope to pedal. “Five to one. Those were good odds where I learned to fight.”
“You mean four years ago? Before you settled down and became a family man? I’m guessing you’re a bit rusty.”
Apparently Horse didn’t know Virgil owned his own bodyguard service. The Crew must’ve missed that detail when they came after them in D.C. All they cared about was an address, and they’d come up with Laurel’s somehow. Virgil would never forget the call he’d received from her after the attack. If not for Rex, she’d be dead.
But Horse wasn’t entirely wrong. In the four years Virgil had been protecting others, the worst he’d had to do was shove someone out of the way or toss a few drunks out of a club, and even that was before he’d hired others. Now he had a team of eight, not counting the three who did background checks and other searches, and his clerical staff of two. “What I might’ve lost in technique I’ve gained in motivation,” he said.
“And you think I care? Come on—blood in, blood out. You know how the game’s played. Winner takes all, Skin.”
Virgil winced at his old nickname. It reminded him of the years he’d been driven by rage, rage not so different from what he was feeling right now. “Call Ink off and let bygones be bygones, or I’ll bring the fight to your front door, and then it’ll be too late for peace.”
“Ink? That’s what this is about? You’re worried about that broken-down crazy bastard? I couldn’t call him off even if I wanted to. You know he’s certifiable, right? Payback. That’s all he cares about.”
That broken-down crazy bastard had already caused too much damage. “He’s one of yours. You need to do something about him before this goes any farther.”
“There’s nothing I can do. Your sister’s probably already dead.”
Fighting a sudden impulse to break something, Virgil returned to the window and let his forehead fall against the glass. “For your own sake, you’d better hope that’s not true.”
“I’m not scared of you, Skin. You want me? Come get me. If you show up here it’ll save me the trouble of finding you.” He lowered his voice. “Because I will find you. No matter how long and hard I have to look. I bet Laurel’s giving Ink your address right now. But when I come for you, I won’t kill you immediately. First I’m going to destroy everyone you’ve ever loved.” He chuckled softly. “Just like I did your mother.”
Something inside him snapped. Whirling, Virgil threw the first object he could grab, which happened to be his stapler. It landed against the wall, creating a sizable dent and a loud thud. “You won’t touch anyone else. You won’t have the chance,” he said, and hung up.
Sandra, his administrative assistant knocked at the door. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Covering his face, he stood perfectly still, grappling for control before he threw something else. She knew his background, his real name. He’d told her so she’d be extra careful about releasing any of his personal information to people who called, but she’d probably never really believed the threat he lived with. Most people couldn’t even fathom what it was like.
“Can you hear me?” she asked, louder.
Breathe… “It’s fine, Sandra. Everything’s fine.” He choked out those few words.
“Oh. Good. Okay. Well, did you want to go over those contracts with me now?”
“No.” He couldn’t think about business. He couldn’t think about anything except the fact that he’d have to leave right away, despite the impending birth of his daughter. He had to stop The Crew before anyone else got hurt. It might mean he’d miss the delivery, but he had no choice. Neither he nor Laurel was in a position to run again. If he couldn’t convince Horse to bury the hatchet, he had to stop him some other way, even if it meant putting a bullet in his head.
His assistant knocked again. He’d assumed she’d gone back to her desk. “What now?”
There was a brief hesitation. No doubt she was surprised. He never treated her rudely.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked.
He cursed under his breath but managed a solid, “No, it’s me. I’m sorry.”
That seemed to make it better. Her voice sounded more strident when she spoke again. “Mr. Winn is here. He’d like to see you.”
Mr. Winn owned a liquor store and wanted to beef up security beyond the single guard Virgil provided on weekends. “Tell him I’m dealing with a family emergency and won’t be able to meet today.”
There was a pause and then a drawn out, “Okay…”
“And, Sandra?” he said before she could move away.