In Seconds

crap out of that Realtor convinced Ink that half the shit L.J. claimed to have done wasn’t true. Ink thought he could beat L.J. despite his handicap, and was eager to do it—but he had other plans for the time being, so he adopted a more conciliatory tone. “What do you say?”

At last the kid sat back down. “If you know where Laurel’s brother is, why don’t we just go there, shoot him and be done with it?”

“Because I don’t know where he is. That’s what she’s going to tell me in order to save her kids.”

“You just said she’s met you before. That means she’ll realize that nothing can save her kids.”

“Then something in her house will give it away. Virgil and his sister were always close. She’ll have his phone number, letters, emails from him, some way to find him.”

L.J. pulled a piece of gum from his pocket and shoved it into his mouth. “What about the other guy?”

“Who?”

“What’d you call him—Pretty Boy? We’re going after him, too, right?”

Just the mention of Pretty Boy made Ink clench his jaw. “You know we are.”

“You haven’t said anything about him lately. It’s been all about the bitch.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten him. She’s first. Virgil and his wife are next. Pretty Boy’s last. The order’s important.”

Muttering something that sounded like, “You’re crazy,” L.J. turned on the TV, but Ink grabbed the remote and turned it off again.

“What are you thinking? They hear that shit, they’ll know they got company. You want to face the business end of five rifles?”

“There’re fishing poles in here.”

“That doesn’t mean they don’t do a little hunting, too.”

“Black bear’s the only thing in season. How many black bear hunters can there be?”

“Enough to have a season, right? Who told you it was bear season, anyway?”

“That guy at Walmart. I distracted him while you lifted our shoes, remember?”

He gazed around the cabin again. “So they could be hunters, like I said.”

L.J. scratched his neck. “They could also be a bunch of yuppies who wouldn’t know how to use a gun even if they had one.”

“Like I told you before, it’s safer to assume the worst.”

“Fine. We’ll assume the worst.” With a sigh, L.J. got up and helped himself to a cold beer. “So what do we do until these bear hunters come back? It’s barely noon.”

“We wait until they drag their sorry asses home. They’ll be here for dinner, if not before. With all the food they got, I’m betting they’re planning a barbecue.” A snick sounded as L.J. popped the top of his beer. “That could be five or six hours, man. I hate waiting.”

Ink whirled on him. “Could you quit complaining? I mean, you got any better ideas? Where else are we gonna stay? How else are we gonna get food?”

When he didn’t reply, Ink gestured at the Playboy. “Why don’t you go look at that magazine if you want some tits and ass? Take it into the bathroom. The way you’re actin’, two minutes should take care of your problem.”

“At least I can still get it up,” he snapped.

L.J. was guessing, but he was right. It wasn’t just his ability to have an erection that Laurel, Virgil and Pretty Boy had taken away from him. He wasn’t half the man he used to be. But they’d pay for what they’d done. They’d pay for everything. Soon.

He opened his mouth to tell L.J. the dick he was so proud of wouldn’t work very good if he shot it off when he heard a car pull up outside. “They’re early!”

L.J. checked the window while Ink got behind the couch.

“How many are there?” Ink asked, his voice barely audible.

“Four.”

“They have rifles?”

“Not unless they left ’em in the truck. They’re carrying cameras. Looks like a bunch of dads getting together for some kind of reunion.” At that point, L.J. glanced back as if he wanted to ask Ink not to go through with it. But it was too late. Ink didn’t have any choice. He had to get rid of these guys; it wasn’t like they’d walk away and keep their mouths shut just because he and L.J. asked them to.

The door swung inward. Then L.J. dropped to the floor, and Ink began to fire.

16

Rex had his arms around her. They were standing beneath a tree in Libby in some park she’d probably passed by once or twice but never noticed, and he was crooning words of comfort in her ear. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Don’t worry about anything.”

Vivian heard what he was saying but his words held no meaning. Her mother was gone. Murdered. And Vivian wasn’t even sure she’d loved her. Not at the end. Was it possible to love someone you couldn’t trust? Someone you blamed for so much heartache?

She’d wanted to love Ellen. All along. But…

God, she’d thought her feelings involving her mother were complicated before this happened, but she’d had no idea how confusing they could get. She needed to find herself in all of this, to at least grab hold of an emotion she could understand. An emotion that would make her feel normal. But she couldn’t manage it.

“What’s going on, Laurel?” Her real name seemed as foreign as everything else at the moment. She was no longer Laurel. He wasn’t Pretty Boy anymore, either. He’d told her that himself. Too much had changed.

She missed him, missed her old self, too. And yet she wanted more power than she’d had before. She wanted to take charge of her life and refuse to let The Crew control her through the threat they posed.

Rex pulled back to look into her face. “You haven’t said a word since you dropped the phone.”

The way she’d grabbed the pedestal in order to keep from sagging to the ground had told him something was wrong. He’d dashed out to catch her, hung up the handset and helped her back to the car. Then he’d brought her here, where there was no phone and no busy street, only green grass, green trees, gold and orange flowers and a wide blue sky.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I don’t even know what to feel.” She was pretty sure there should be something besides emptiness inside her. What about sorrow? Regret? Relief? Vindication? She could justify any of them, and yet they weren’t there. A void filled her heart where the pain should be.

He removed her sunglasses and lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Start with what you’re thinking.”

“Nothing.” She gave her head a quick shake. “I’m numb.”

“Come on, don’t shut down.” Setting his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed them for emphasis. “Talk. It’ll make this easier. You can trust me, remember?”

She could trust him to care about her, but she couldn’t trust him to take care of himself. And that meant she couldn’t risk loving him. And yet she did love him. Not like she used to. Not in a romantic sense. But as a good friend, someone who’d always be special.

Even that frightened her.

“Laurel?”

She had to get him to stop calling her that. “Vivian.”

“Fine. Vivian. You’re scaring me. You’re white as a ghost and I could feel your pulse a second ago. Your heart’s racing like a rabbit’s. Will you let me know what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

She studied the crushed grass between them while she tried to isolate a single ingredient from the stew of her thoughts. She wanted to ask what Ellen’s death signified. But he wouldn’t know. Did it mean The Crew had paid Ellen a visit and she wouldn’t give up what she knew?