dropped on the floor. Surprisingly enough, no one else had reached for it. Horse and Gully were trying to melt into the paneling so they wouldn’t be hit by a stray bullet.
They thought it was all over for him. And it was. He needed all his strength just to take in the smallest breath of air. But he wasn’t going out alone.
His whole body burned and the lack of oxygen made it difficult to hang on to conscious thought. If he could only catch his breath, he could tolerate the pain. Pain meant nothing to him, not if overcoming it would reunite him with those he loved. It was his damn lung. He could feel the darkness edging closer…?.
The weight of a solid object in his hand finally cut through his delirium and he realized he was holding the gun. How he’d managed to come up with it, he had no idea. The room was spinning, blurring the part of his vision that wasn’t fading to black. He needed to act fast, before he couldn’t see anything at all.
Raising the muzzle, he aimed at the door and fought to steady his hand. But there was no longer an army there. Every person he saw was now lying on the floor, except one. How had that happened?
A tall, blurry shape appeared to be creeping into the room, stepping cautiously, slowly. He had a gun held out in front as if ready to fire.
Virgil ordered himself to kill that man. One less Crew member… But if he was going to take someone with him, he wanted it to be Horse. Forgetting the other guy—some stranger who was irrelevant to him—he cursed as he rolled over to look for The Crew’s leader.
Horse was trying to hide behind the smaller Gully again. Gully seemed to have a trickle of blood running down from a hole in his forehead, but Virgil thought that had to be an illusion. Virgil had shot him, but not in the head. He’d only meant to wound him. So why would his own men finish him off?
“No!” Horse cried when he realized what Virgil was about to do, but Virgil fired, anyway. He squeezed the trigger as many times as he had strength in an effort to eradicate the threat to his family before he was no longer capable of helping them. But he felt the recoil of the firearm travel up his arm only twice before he couldn’t manage another round.
With one last attempt to draw in enough air to remain conscious, he slumped over and was about to give up the fight when two strong hands pulled him into a sitting position and he heard a familiar voice.
“Virgil, hang on. I’m getting you out of here.”
28
L.J. was no use to him. Ink had had his fun digging around for that bullet with his unwashed hands and experimental prodding. Now he was content to let L.J. die—if that was what happened. If L.J. didn’t die, he might try and hike out of the mountains, maybe get some medical help. More than likely he’d be hauled back to prison. L.J. didn’t have the smarts to navigate the outside world as an escapee. He didn’t have the nerve to do what an escapee had to do, either.
Ink, however, had everything he needed, including a better plan. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. Now that Laurel knew he was in town, she wouldn’t return home. He’d have to start looking for her all over again. But someone who was trusted in the community would be able to help him find her much faster than his former cellie. Especially now that L.J. had been shot. And who would look more harmless, more trustworthy, than a member of the Rogers family?
He’d seen their pretty daughter and the mildly attractive middle-aged mother. They were quite a family. And they were only half a mile away, in the very next cabin. There might be a father. Ink realized that but could handle him the same way he had the hunters.
The mother would work best for his purposes, he decided. Now that he had Laurel’s new name, he could send Mrs. Rogers into town to poke around. By keeping her daughter and anyone else at the cabin with him, she’d have the incentive to work fast and keep her mouth shut. Once she returned with the addresses of Vivian’s closest friends and any extended family that might live in the area, he’d kill her and the rest of the Rogers clan so they couldn’t report him. And then he’d be on his way—either to finish up his business with Virgil’s sister here in Pineview, or follow her out of town, if she’d already left. There wasn’t any point in staying if she wasn’t here.
He checked the gun he’d used earlier when he got in that shootout with the sheriff. It was good to go. He’d reloaded it at the cabin. Now all he had to do was hide the truck in the trees and wait until dark, which wouldn’t be long in coming.
The phone in the motel woke Vivian at five o’clock. She’d fallen asleep after making love with Myles, had slept for several hours, much more deeply than she had since this whole nightmare began. But reality intruded with the jangle of that phone, and the dread that’d overwhelmed her before came back.
“Do you want to get it?” She assumed it would be one of Myles’s deputies, looking for him. No one else in Pineview knew where they were.
His hand ran over her skin, but his eyes remained closed. “Mmm…no. Still groggy. Go ahead.”
She was glad to see he was getting the sleep he so desperately needed. But she was afraid neither of them would be able to rest much longer. She had to get hold of Peyton, continue to try Rex, somehow find out what was going on with her kids and her brother. And she had to field this call, which she hoped was good news and not bad.
“Hello?” She settled back into Myles’s embrace but held her breath.
“This is Sandra with EZ Security. Is Vivian there?”
Recognizing the name of the company and the voice of the caller, Vivian sat up. It was the receptionist she’d spoken to earlier at Virgil’s work. “This is Vivian.”
“I have a number for you to call.”
Vivian used the pad of paper by the phone and the motel pen to copy it down. “Where does it go?” She recognized the area code but not the rest of the digits.
“Mercy Medical Hospital in Los Angeles.”
She bit her lip. “Why do I need to call a hospital in Los Angeles?”
“Your brother’s been shot.”
Vivian must’ve made a sound or a movement to give away the pain that converged on her heart because Myles shoved himself into a sitting position, suddenly alert. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t explain. Not now. She had to find out whatever she could while this woman was willing to talk to her. “Is he…is he going to be okay?”
“The doctors are hopeful. He’s in surgery now.”
“Then…who am I calling if Virgil can’t talk?”
“Rex.”
“Why didn’t you just give him my number?”
“He can’t make a collect call to a motel.”
Rex was in L.A., too? Why? Where were her kids? “Do you know if Peyton’s safe?”
“She’s fine.”
Obviously this woman knew their entire background. Vivian was throwing around names Virgil, Rex and Peyton hadn’t used since they’d adopted their first false identity and moved to Washington, D.C.
“Rex said to tell you Peyton has Jake and Mia in a motel room with Brady here in Buffalo,” she went on. “Don’t worry about them.”
It was a relief to learn her children were fine and in good hands. But after what she’d just been told about Virgil, it was hard to feel much better. “Does Peyton know about Virgil?”
There was a slight hesitation. “No. That’s why she’s not making this call. Rex said not to tell her until…until we know whether or not Virgil’s going to make it.”
Laurel dropped her head in her hand. “How’d it happen?”
“I don’t have any of the details. I just know that Rex wants to speak to you. His phone was damaged when your brother was injured, so he called me from the hospital.”
She brought her knees up so she could wrap her free arm around them. “Rex wasn’t hurt?”
