In Seconds

“She won’t come?”

They’d discussed Laurel before, lying in bed last night, whispering so they wouldn’t wake Brady. “No.”

“Do you feel you need to go to Montana?”

The strain in her voice let him know she wouldn’t be glad to see him do that. She was scared of losing him. He was equally scared of losing her. After all he’d been through in his life, he was happy, whole, at last. But he wouldn’t be happy or whole without her.

“I’d go if we weren’t so close to having the baby. I hate leaving Laurel on her own. But…this has been such a difficult pregnancy.”

Peyton came over and sat on his lap, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “Are you sorry you married me yet?”

Her hands covered his. She knew he was teasing, but she answered seriously. “I could never be sorry about that.”

He rubbed her big belly, trying to get his baby to move. There was nothing more reassuring to him than feeling their tiny daughter shift inside Peyton’s womb. Peyton had endured so many fertility treatments and dealt with so many complications since those treatments had worked—gestational diabetes, water retention, early cramping. He couldn’t wait to cradle this latest addition to their family in his arms and feel he had half a chance of protecting what they’d fought so hard to create. Fifteen months ago, they’d lost a little boy to a very late miscarriage, and it was worse than anything he’d ever experienced, mostly because the pain wasn’t just his. Peyton had been devastated.

“Why’d this have to come up now?” he grumbled. “Right before the baby?”

“It wouldn’t be any easier afterward,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to leave me with Brady and a newborn.”

True, but what about Laurel? She’d always been so close to him, so loyal, and regardless of what she thought she could do with that gun he’d given her, she wasn’t capable of defending herself. Not against The Crew. They were determined, brutal, relentless. Ink, especially, had no conscience. He’d rape and torture her before he killed her, if he ever got the chance. Rex had called from the airport in Montana to say he’d alerted local law enforcement to what was happening. The sheriff lived next door to Laurel. But was that enough?

It was so hard for Virgil to rely on anyone else, even the police. In the past, they’d had the protection of federal marshals and it hadn’t helped.

“No, I guess I wouldn’t be able to leave then, either,” he admitted.

“How are you feeling about the murder of your mother?”

This question surprised him. Other than what Ellen’s murder said about The Crew and what they might or might not be doing, he’d put it out of his mind. He’d never wished her dead, but her death was easier to take than her betrayal had been. “The same,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, she was a complete stranger to me.”

“Her murder hasn’t changed anything?”

“Nothing.” Maybe Martin had been a lazy, selfish, abusive asshole who deserved what he got as much as anyone could. But Ellen’s compulsion to save herself at any cost, even at the cost of her own children? That wasn’t a mother to him. What made her actions even more reprehensible was that she’d waited so long to take responsibility for what she’d done. She’d lied and lied, and she’d kept lying, forcing him and Laurel to writhe in uncertainty for years. Ellen had waited so long to come clean that, when she finally told him, it made very little difference in his life.

Peyton twisted around to see his face. “Are you ever going to tell Laurel what you learned two years ago?”

He’d had the opportunity when he’d talked to his sister on the phone and hadn’t taken it. He wasn’t sure why. When Ellen was alive, he’d justified keeping her confession to himself because his silence gave Laurel the best possible chance of establishing a relationship with her, which was what he thought Laurel secretly wanted. But now? Their mother was dead. He could no longer use that excuse, and yet he was still reluctant to divulge the ugly truth.

Why? Was it due to some inexplicable urge to protect his mother by hiding her true nature from Laurel? Or was he trying to protect his sister from the disappointment he’d felt? He wasn’t convinced she needed to learn at this late date. Would it help her in any way?

He couldn’t see how. Not knowing was torture, but so was facing the harsh reality. Maybe it would be different if Ellen had been innocent. But she’d been guilty as hell. And there’d been nothing to redeem her, even in her confession. She only told him when she did because she’d been between boyfriends, was getting older and feeling lonely, and she’d hoped she could use her children to fill the emptiness in her life.

“Well?” Peyton prompted when he hesitated.

Virgil rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept last night. He’d tossed and turned, worrying about Laurel, Peyton and Brady, the new baby, Rex. “Eventually. Maybe. But not yet. She’s going through enough right now.”

“You should’ve turned Ellen in.”