Nausea made him gag. “You better not have—”
The man on the other end cut him off. “It was just a call. For now.”
What did for now mean? Was his family in danger? Would The Crew make him and those he loved a target? He’d never dreamed they’d be that bold. He was on the administration side of corrections. He never dealt with actual convicts, not on a day-to-day basis. And he’d certainly never been threatened. “What, exactly, are you saying?”
“I’m telling you we’re going to find Virgil Skinner one way or the other. If you make it easy for us, we’ll throw you a few Gs for your trouble and you’ll never hear from us again.”
Blinking against the rain, Rick held a hand to his chest as if he could slow the beating of his heart. “Why do you think I can tell you where he is?”
“Come on! We’re not playing games.”
Lying wouldn’t work. They already knew too much. And it was a waste of time to ask this man to divulge his source, because he wouldn’t.
“What do you say, Mr. Wallace? You like your comfy life, don’t you? You like feeling safe at night.”
Rick remembered how The Crew had terrorized Laurel before he got her out of Florence. How they’d managed to track her down even after she was in protective custody. The gang was a lot more organized and resourceful than he ever would’ve guessed. And now, after killing Trinity Woods and Marshal Keegan, wounding Eddie Glover and attempting to murder Laurel and her kids, they were at his house!
Operation Inside had seemed like such a good solution when he’d first come up with it. He’d considered it a creative way to make a name for himself, felt it would be a stepping-stone to bigger and better things. Now he was afraid of where it all might end. Peyton had tried to tell him, but he hadn’t listened. It’d been a mistake to bring Virgil here. Maybe, given enough time, Virgil would be able to provide the evidence to convict whoever had ordered the hit on Garcia, but there were no guarantees. And that chance wasn’t worth risking the lives of his girls. Or spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. Or losing Peyton to a man who wasn’t worthy of her.
Even if she wouldn’t have him, he didn’t want her to be with Virgil.
“I need an answer,” the guy pressed.
Rick squeezed his eyes closed. With just two words— Pelican Bay—Virgil would no longer be a problem to him, and the threat posed by Virgil’s low-life friends would be gone. It’d almost be as if he’d never gotten involved in this.
“Five Gs, Mr. Wallace. Think of the kind of family vacation that can buy.”
“I don’t want your money,” he snapped. And it was true. That would only create a tie between him and The Crew, a tie others might discover. If he simply gave this man what he wanted, who would be the wiser? Then everything that’d gone so wrong since he started this whole thing would instantly improve.
He didn’t have any option, he told himself. They’d find Virgil, anyway. It would be better if it happened before anyone else got hurt. Virgil was the one who’d joined The Crew in the first place. He’d understood the risks: blood in, blood out.
“He’s in Pelican Bay.”
“What’s he doing there?”
This answer was more difficult. Rick knew what it might mean. The Hells Fury would have a greater chance of reaching Virgil than The Crew….
But remembering Virgil standing in Peyton’s office, tall and proud despite his cuffs and chains, and knowing that he was taking what Rick had warned him not to take was too much. Rick had the chance to strike back, and he took it. “We put him there to investigate the Hells Fury, to tell us who killed Judge Garcia in Santa Rosa,” he said, and hung up.
If he’s such a good fighter, let him fight his way out of that….
Shady smiled as he punched the end-call button on his phone. “We’ve got him!” he announced to Horse and Meeks.
Don “Meeks” Mechem sat in the converted garage across from Horse. An older member of the gang, still physically fit but already gray at forty-five, he’d mostly gone legit. If not for Pointblank’s death, he probably wouldn’t have requested a meeting. He didn’t show up at regular events. But Pointblank had been like a kid brother to him, and he wasn’t taking his murder lightly. “And now Skin’s going to pay,” he said.
Horse held up his drink in a toast. “For Pointblank.”
“And Ink,” Shady added. Although no one particularly liked Ink well, he’d become as much a reason for revenge as Pointblank. In some ways, Pointblank had been the luckier of the two. According to Ink’s doctors, he wasn’t going to come out of the hospital the same as he was before being shot. He was currently on a respirator with tubes going in every direction, had nearly died twice. If he survived, he’d be unable to walk. And to top it all off, once he healed, he’d have to stand trial for what he did to those prostitutes, as well as answer for his part in all the other violence. That meant he’d likely get a life sentence. Or two or three.
What had happened at the safe house was a bad deal. But there were some positives that’d come out of it, at least when they looked at the big picture. The Crew hadn’t seen this much solidarity in two years. Shady could feel the members rallying behind him, as their leader, while he worked to avenge their fallen comrades—and he loved every minute of it. Everyone was on the hunt for Virgil and Pretty Boy; everyone was putting out feelers, checking contacts and reporting because they were all determined to make Virgil and Pretty Boy pay for turning on them.
“How do we handle it?” Horse asked, after draining his glass.
Shady wished he could blow Virgil’s head off himself. He knew nothing would make him look better to the rest of the gang than that. But Skin was in prison, which meant Shady couldn’t get access to him. Someone else would have to do the honors, someone on the inside. The question was, who?
“We drive up to Crescent City, meet with Detric Whitehead and form an alliance with the HF,” he said.
“Shit, do you know how far that is?” Horse complained. “It’s like…fourteen hours!”
“You’re worried about your time?” Meeks growled. “When Ink’s in the hospital and could die at any second? And Pointblank’s being buried this week?”
Horse’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m in. Of course I’m in.”