So Horse wasn’t nearly as alone as Virgil would’ve liked. To top it off, Virgil was so groggy he felt as if he was underwater. He’d been up for twenty-four hours, been on high alert too long to be as sharp as he needed to be. This wasn’t the condition in which he wanted to decide whether Mona’s text was an invitation to be tortured and shot in the head—or the help he’d requested.
But he didn’t have to decide, did he? He’d already made the decision to trust her when he’d first contacted her.
After bringing the photo of his wife and children to his lips for a quick goodbye kiss, he took out the lighter he’d picked up at the last gas station and burned it, along with all the other photos and business cards he hadn’t even known were in his wallet. He burned the car rental agreement and anything else that could possibly help The Crew find his family, too. In case he didn’t survive the next few hours, he didn’t want to leave anything that could be traced behind. He hoped The Crew’s revenge would be complete at his death, if things went in that direction, but with them, there was no way to tell. They were the most bloodthirsty group of men he’d ever known. Their unflinching willingness to perform the most brutal acts had served him well in prison, had put him on top right along with them.
But it’d created a hell all its own once he was exonerated.
Slapping his face to revive himself, he took a deep breath, slipped the gun into his waistband under the front of his shirt and got out. One shot. That was all it would take—if he could get in without being stopped, maintain an element of surprise and manage to get Horse in his sights without the others standing in the way. Ironically, he’d never used a gun until after prison. But running a bodyguard service gave him good reason to visit the shooting range. Maybe it was the only thing in his favor, but he was one hell of a marksman.
Of course, there was another problem. Even if he hit his target and killed Horse, as he hoped, the blast would bring everyone else in the house down on him. Other than making a run for it, he hadn’t figured out how he’d get back to his car. He could only hope the answer would be apparent when the time came, because there was no telling what he might encounter once he got inside.
As he walked around the trunk of his rental car, his cell phone buzzed with another text message.
Mona again.
Are you coming?
He didn’t bother answering. If she was baiting a trap, he didn’t want her to know any more than she already did. He was, however, tempted to call Rex, to tell him to look out for Peyton and Laurel if anything happened to him. He would have, except he didn’t need to; he knew Rex would do just that. At least, he would if he could. So instead of placing that call, he dropped the phone on the asphalt and smashed it to pieces.
There went his ability to communicate. It was down to sheer nerve, his gun and whether or not Mona was being truthful.
26
Myles had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, but Vivian moved around the motel room, taking a shower, brushing her teeth—two, then three, times—and bolting, unbolting and rebolting the door. When they’d arrived, she’d called the LAPD, told them as much as she knew about the people she believed had killed her mother. They didn’t seem too impressed with her knowledge, or even particularly willing to believe what she had to say, but the detective she’d spoken to wrote it all down and promised to look into it. She figured she’d check back with him in a few days. When she knew what was going on here, she’d be able to push the issue a bit harder.
Myles had sent a deputy by the name of Campbell to get him an overnight bag. Campbell had shown up with it over an hour ago and had brought most of the items she’d put in Marley’s room, too. But if he’d found her jeans somewhere on the floor, he’d left them where they lay, so she was still wearing the sweats she’d donned after Myles was shot. For the moment, though, she was satisfied with the few personal belongings she had with her. She didn’t want to return home to see Myles’s blood on her porch, or face the fact that Ink had once again infiltrated her personal space. There’d be time enough to deal with that later, when they caught Ink and Lloyd. The best thing right now would be to get some rest.
If only she could relax. The nap she’d stolen at the hospital seemed to have taken the edge off her fatigue, and agitation made it impossible to unwind. Especially because she couldn’t get hold of anyone in Buffalo, New York. Myles had been able to call Marley, gently break the news and make arrangements for her to spend another day with the Rogers family. But Vivian didn’t even know if her kids had arrived at their destination. According to the call she placed to the airport, their plane had landed on time, but that was where the trail grew cold. Rex’s cell went straight to voice mail. Peyton wasn’t picking up; neither was Virgil. Yet it was three hours later back east, nearly eleven in the morning. They should definitely be up and around.
Maybe Peyton had gone into labor and they were all at the hospital…?.
That had to be the case. Taking the cordless phone from the nightstand, she stepped outside and kicked a small pebble back and forth while dialing Virgil’s office for the third time in the past two hours.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t heard from him.” It was the same woman who’d answered her last two calls, and she didn’t sound pleased to be bothered again.
“This is his sister, Laurel. Do you know when he might come in?”
“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”
The receptionist had been trained not to give out information. Vivian could tell. The woman probably didn’t even know Virgil had a sister. They’d kept their lives that separate since D.C. But she wasn’t one of the bad guys, damn it. She needed to know what was going on. “Can you at least tell me if Peyton’s in labor?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t heard.”
Completely neutral again.
“Can you have him call me if you hear from him?”
“Of course.”
“The number is—”
“I’ve got the number. You gave it to me last time.”
“Great. Thanks for nothing,” she grumbled, and hung up. She needed to hear Jake’s and Mia’s voices, wanted reassurance from them more than she’d ever wanted anything.
What should she do? Go to Buffalo? She didn’t even have a car at the motel. She’d ridden to the hospital in the ambulance with Myles, and then Campbell had dropped them off before going to get their things.