He’d believed that certain sacrifices would be worth the reward waiting on the other side, or he wouldn’t have done it. Now he wasn’t sure he or Laurel or Rex would even make it to the other side. By grasping for a better future, he’d let his loved ones down. And they deserved more. Rex was just as decent as Eddie, only he came from a shitty family that had basically driven him away, and he’d fallen in with a gang instead of going to college and getting a job.
Virgil pictured Peyton again. Would he let her down, too? At the very least, he suspected Rick Wallace might go after her job because of him.
He should’ve left her alone. He’d known that all along. But just the taste of her made him feel drunk….
“Hey, you gonna move or not?” Buzz asked.
Did he care about the game? No. Buzz wasn’t much of a challenge. But goaded into action, he slid his queen down the diagonal and took Buzz’s rook. “Oh, great. Thanks.”
Virgil had no sympathy for him. He couldn’t allow himself to like his cell mate or anyone else he met inside Pelican Bay, couldn’t form any bonds. He’d already learned that lesson the hard way by growing attached to people he’d had to turn his back on. “You don’t want me to take it? Protect it.”
His cell mate slid his own queen over to shield his bishop. “Someone’s in a piss-poor mood.”
“How do you know I’m not normally like this?”
“Because you weren’t like this last night, even after the fight.”
“Maybe I like to fight.”
“Four on one? You’re jokin’, right?”
“Nope.” Virgil summoned a cocky grin, but it was all a front. He was feeling worse by the minute, could feel rivulets of sweat pouring down his back.
Buzz shook his head. “Dude, you’re crazy.”
Several members of the Nuestra Family hung out on the fringes of the tables, eyeing them and talking in loud voices. “One-on-one, he would’ve pounded all their asses!”
“I’d like to see him go at it with Whitehead himself.”
“If he was smart he’d clique up with us, you hear what I’m sayin’? This here’s a gang that can appreciate that kind of talent.”
“You’re not listenin’ to them, are you?” Buzz grumbled. “That bullshit you were spoutin’ before, you wouldn’t really consider it.”
Virgil shrugged. “I’ll consider whatever serves my purposes.” Knowing the HF already suspected him made it impossible to act interested in joining them. His only choice was to play hard to get, to force them to pursue him. If they would. This route would take more time than he’d hoped to be inside this hellhole. But from what Virgil could see, the only way to convince the HF that he was legit was to turn away the very thing they’d expect him to want.
Buzz lowered his voice. “I told you. I’m gonna talk to Westy. I’m gonna get you in.”
Fortunately, Buzz didn’t seem to be as suspicious of him as Weston was. That gave Virgil hope. “Westy’s in the SHU, man.”
“Don’t matter. I’ll get a message to him. Or Detric. Deech is the one who’ll decide, anyway.”
“How will you communicate with him? He’s in the SHU, too.”
His eyes flicked to two guards who were talking in the corner. “How do you think? I’ll hire a little help.”
Virgil needed to learn which guards could be trusted and by whom, so he ignored the growing pain in his gut and paid close attention. “Those guys will help you out?”
“For the right price. They don’t do it ’cause they like us.”
Since they weren’t close enough for him to read name tags, Virgil memorized their faces. “Good to know, in case I change my mind.”
“So you’re interested?”
“Not right now.”
Buzz’s face fell. “What? You can’t be serious! You’re gonna need a posse in here. So what if you can fight? No one wants to be friendless.”
“If you think I’m willing to stab guys for the Hells Fury you’re crazier than I am.”
“It’s better than stabbin’ guys for the NF! You said you like to fight.”
“I like to fight when I have a reason.”
He leaned forward. “Look, I know you’re no green recruit. You’ve got experience, and you’ll be treated with respect.”
Virgil allowed his surprise to show. “What does that mean?”
“It means you won’t be a grunt.”
“No initiation?”
“I’m not sure about that, but I’ll suggest it. I’ll see what I can do.”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’ll suggest it? Talk to me when you’ve got some authority. Maybe then I’ll consider what the hell you’re offering. By the way, you suck at chess. I’m done with this.” Leaving the game half-finished, he got up and went back to his cell. He needed to lie down, was afraid he’d pass out if he didn’t. The doctor had told him to rest, but he’d done the opposite. He’d had no choice, not this afternoon. He had to come across as if he was impervious to pain and injury. That was part of the psychological warfare he hoped would ultimately keep injuries to a minimum—especially his.
Someone was coming up behind him—he could hear footsteps—but whoever it was didn’t move fast, so he didn’t turn. He didn’t want to act paranoid. With the stories circulating about him, he didn’t think anyone else would be willing to take him on. At least, he hoped not—because if someone attacked him now, there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do to save himself. He’d never felt so weak. The shank he’d taken to the gut had shocked his system and he couldn’t seem to recover….
“How you feelin’?”
It was the blond C.O. who’d been conferring with the other guard in the corner.
Virgil didn’t want to be perceived as friendly to the C.O.s. He knew that wouldn’t help his cause. And he needed some space, some privacy to deal with the way he was feeling. So he gave the guy a look that told him to piss off. “You must be bored, because I can’t imagine you’re really concerned.”
He didn’t react like Virgil expected. The guy stepped inside his cell, something most C.O.s avoided without backup, and whispered, “You’re doin’ great, making it all very believable.”
A shot of adrenaline alleviated some of Virgil’s light-headedness. “What are you talking about?”