In Seconds (Bulletproof #2)(91)
Author: Brenda Novak

“My uncle did. My own mother might have put him up to it. And Virgil hasn’t come out of those prison years unscathed. You know The Crew might never let us live in peace. They might not let us live at all.”

“They won’t hurt you as long as I’m here to protect you. But I understand your concern. And, just to save you the trouble of bringing it up, I also understand that your children’s father was an abusive jerk who may come into the picture at some point in the future. Any other warnings and disclaimers?”

She raised her eyebrows, as if what she’d already said should be more than enough to scare him off, but since he didn’t concede the point, she barreled on. “I’ve heard how sweet Amber Rose was.”

“You’ve heard a lot.”

“You’re a favorite topic among the ladies. It’s Pineview, remember?”

“So…you’re different, like you said.”

“And…maybe not as good. I’m aggressive and stubborn and…and I can be angry. Besides all that, I have baggage.”

“Beyond what you’ve listed?” he teased.

“Maybe.”

With her legs between his and the softness of her br**sts against his chest, the memory of making love to her at the cabin made his pulse leap. “What are you really worried about, Vivian?”

“You loved her so much.” Her voice fell. “I don’t see how I could compete with that.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. He craved the taste of her, the smooth texture of her bare skin. And it was her he wanted, not a substitute for Amber Rose. “You don’t have to compete. I loved my late wife, will always love her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love you just as much.”

He bent his head to kiss her, but she resisted. She seemed hesitant to trust what he’d told her, and he couldn’t blame her. She’d been through so much. But as he slid his hands up the back of her shirt, kneading her tense muscles and coaxing her to stop worrying, her lips parted and she began to respond.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured as their tongues met and touched and met again. “All you have to do is hang on to me.”

Making love to Vivian this time was a completely different experience, even better than at the cabin. Myles slowed everything down so he could memorize her body, enjoy it and let her enjoy his. As his hands skimmed over her br**sts, her waist, her hips, coaxing her to become more pliable, to believe him—to believe in him—she closed her eyes and arched her back and didn’t fight him when he brought her to the brink of climax. At that moment, her eyes flew open and latched onto his, and he silently pleaded with her not to deny him.

“I don’t think I can—” she started, but he removed the hand she’d just placed on his chest and pinned it, along with the other one, above her head.

“Let go,” he whispered. “All you have to do is trust me.”

She must’ve taken him at his word because her legs tightened around his hips, telling him she was as committed as he was, and it wasn’t ten seconds later that she gasped and her eyes drifted shut. He tried to make the pleasure last as long as possible, but before the final spasm disappeared, he found his release.

The pain made it difficult to move. But worse than the pain was the struggle to breathe. One of the bullets must’ve collapsed a lung. All Virgil could think about was Peyton and Brady and the new baby. How he’d never see them again, never meet his new daughter. Peyton would have to go on without him. Maybe Laurel was already dead. His past had gotten the best of him, despite everything he’d done to outdistance it.

Then, suddenly, anger came to his rescue. It seemed to grab his heart and throw it against his rib cage. That wasn’t a pleasant sensation, but it lent him enough strength and presence of mind to dive for the gun Gully had 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.”

Rex. Virgil wanted to say his name but couldn’t. He didn’t know how it was that his best friend was in California and not New York, but he’d never been more grateful to see anyone in his life.

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.