In Seconds

“What the…hell were…you thinking?” Ink said as he came scraping up from behind. “You thought…you could…leave…my ass?”

He’d been thinking he’d risk almost anything to do just that. But this was not the time. “I wanted—” he dragged some air into his lungs “—to get farther…from the…the cops.” He felt for the hole in his shoulder, found a small circle below his collarbone. “I’ve been…shot. Don’t know how long…I’ll be able to…keep running.”

Ink was gasping, too, but this seemed to pacify him. “You were…hit? Where?”

“Shoulder.”

Ink gave no indication whether that mattered to him or not. He grabbed L.J. by the back of the shirt and shoved him forward. “We have…to keep moving.”

Dizziness threatened to overwhelm L.J. Even worse, the darkness of the surrounding forest suddenly seemed too forbidding, too impenetrable. He felt as if his feet were five times their normal size. He could hardly move. He wanted to lie down, to somehow rid himself of the anvil crushing his chest.

“Do you…know where…we’re at?” Because he didn’t. He couldn’t remember. He could only feel the pain.

“Yeah. Truck’s not…far,” Ink said, “Get going,” and gave him another push.

It was a nine millimeter, not the most powerful gun around, but that was the best Rex’s friend could do on such short notice. And it could certainly be lethal, especially at close range. A nine millimeter wasn’t going to stop someone as big as Horse, not unless Virgil hit him in just the right place. And it wouldn’t be worth much if he wound up facing an army.

As he drove the car he’d rented at the airport past Horse’s illegal club on sixtieth and Vermont, Virgil hoped he wouldn’t have to confront The Crew en masse, but it didn’t look promising. Although he’d hoped to arrive early, before the nightly activities really got under way, he’d spent too long getting here. He’d had to pick up the car, rendezvous with Rex’s friend, who’d taken him to meet another friend, and buy the gun. Then he’d messed around trying to get a silencer, to no avail. And after that, he’d had an hour’s drive on freeways that were almost as congested at night as they were during the day.

Already the club was packed. Cars, trucks and motorcycles lined both sides of the street; groups, mostly men with a few hookers thrown in, congregated on the sidewalks, some smoking weed, some buying harder drugs. Inside, he knew he’d find rooms where these men could take the girls for just about any activity they chose, including a gang bang. There’d be slot machines and other types of gambling, gun sales, whatever a guy could want.

He’d called Rex a few minutes ago, reaching him as he was going into the hospital, and gotten Mona’s number. She was still cliqued up with The Crew, still one of them. But she liked Rex, and Rex trusted her. Virgil hoped to God he could trust her, too, because she’d agreed to be his eyes and ears tonight. According to her last text, he’d beaten her to the club, but when she eventually showed up she was supposed to scope out the place, report on who was inside, who else they were expecting, what they were doing, where Horse was and when Virgil might have an opportunity to get him alone.

His plan, simple though it was, sounded feasible in theory. But Virgil couldn’t be sure Mona would provide reliable information. She could get high and forget the whole damn thing. He also had no guarantee she’d want the money he offered more than what Horse might provide if she turned on him instead. She could decide to tell Horse he was sitting outside, lure him right into a trap.

Trusting her was a high-risk venture. But he had to trust someone. Without intel, he’d have no chance whatsoever.

He didn’t bother ducking his head or even looking away when he passed the men on the sidewalk. Chances were slim any of them would recognize him. He grew up in L.A., but he hadn’t been a gangbanger until he went to prison. And thanks to tougher sentencing laws, he’d been dropped into the federal system, served his time in Arizona and then Colorado. Maybe a few of The Crew members he’d known had found their way to L.A. to live with the brothers and be a bigger part of the criminal empire, but acting suspicious would cause more of a ripple among this group than acting unafraid, as if he belonged right where he was.

The picture of Peyton hugging Brady that he’d put on the console stared up at him as he rounded the corner and parked. He was too anxious, didn’t want to wait for Mona. Peyton could go into labor anytime. He hated the thought of her being alone, especially now, while they were dealing with so much.

If she lost the baby…

He couldn’t even consider that. Neither could he get ahead of himself. Not if he hoped to see her again.

Taking the gun from the seat beside him, he checked the magazine while he called Laurel. He’d brought the prepaid cell phone he’d purchased so he’d have a safe way to communicate, something that wouldn’t contain all his contacts if it fell into the wrong hands. So he hated to dial her number. It meant he’d have to destroy the phone before he went in. But talking to her might get him new information and shore up his resolve. If he had to kill Horse, he hoped it would save her, too.