For a second, Virgil envied him the ease of his life. He could’ve become a polished professional, given half a chance. But why waste time lamenting what could have been? He was what he was.

Rick cleared his throat. “I wanted to let you know…I’m aware of what happened between you and Peyton.”

Unwilling to confirm or deny what Peyton had told him, Virgil held his tongue and waited for Wallace to disclose why he’d confronted him on this subject.

“I guess I can’t blame you for taking what you can get. A man in your shoes would have to be desperate for a woman. And Peyton’s beautiful. What ex-con wouldn’t climb on if he could? But I split up with my wife today so…things are going to change. I thought you should know.”

“Things?” Virgil prompted.

“Between Peyton and me.”

Virgil warned himself to keep his mouth shut. He had enough to worry about with Laurel and the kids and whether or not he’d get out of Pelican Bay alive. Why did it matter what Wallace had to say?

And yet…it bothered him that Rick felt he had the right to do this, that he could clear the field with a few simple words. “I don’t think she’s interested in you, Rick.”

His mouth dropped open. “What’d you say?”

“You heard me.”

“You think she’s interested in you? Because you caught her at a weak moment? The way she lives, she was probably as sex-starved as you. Peyton’s not the type to sleep around. But that doesn’t mean she’d ever go for a man who has little or no chance of even getting a job.”

Leave it to Wallace to hit him where he was most vulnerable. “I wouldn’t expect her to,” he responded. “Unlike you, I have no false hope.”

“False hope?” he scoffed. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know a fool when I see one. Now get out of my room.”

Virgil dismissed him by lying back down, but Wallace didn’t leave. His voice lowered to a whisper as menacing as any Virgil had ever heard in prison. “I’m going to credit that response to your uneducated and uncouth background—further proof of the many reasons you wouldn’t be right for a woman like Peyton.”

“Credit it to whatever you want. It’s the truth.”

“Just consider yourself warned.”

Virgil rose onto one elbow. He’d been threatened by a lot of men, but no one who’d be easier to take than Wallace. “Warned?”

“To stay away from her.”

“Or what?” he said with a laugh. “You’ll kick my ass?”

“I wouldn’t have to touch you,” he said, and left.

Virgil stared at the door long after Wallace had closed it. He hadn’t liked the associate director to begin with, but he especially didn’t like him now. Apparently it didn’t matter that he was on the outside dealing with someone who was supposed to live according to the law. Men were the same everywhere. If it served their purposes, they’d do whatever they felt they could get away with.

Tempted to march out and grab Wallace by the throat, to teach him a lesson he’d never forget, Virgil got up and started for the door. But he stopped himself before leaving the room. He couldn’t touch Wallace, not if he cared about Laurel and the kids. He had to keep the agreement he’d made. Peyton didn’t nullify that.

Soon this would all be over; Laurel and his niece and nephew would be safe, and they’d build new lives. Whatever happened here wouldn’t matter; Wallace would have no hold over him.

But in the meantime, he’d have to watch his back more carefully than ever.

Because it was now clear that he had more than just The Crew out to get him.

The tension at breakfast was palpable. Peyton wasn’t sure why. Everything had seemed fine—or as fine as could be expected—when she went to bed last night. She’d been so exhausted she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and for that she was grateful. At least she hadn’t tossed and turned for hours as she feared she might when she knew she’d have these two men as houseguests.

But this morning she felt certain there’d been some exchange she’d missed between Wallace and Virgil—and wondered about the nature of it.

“You two okay?” she murmured as she put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of each.

Rick sat closest to the stove. He’d been reading the paper and drinking coffee while she prepared breakfast. “Fine, why?”

Virgil didn’t answer her. After selecting a seat two empty chairs away from Rick and across the table from her, he kept staring out the window at his elbow as if he wasn’t sure he’d ever see the outdoors again, which made her hyperaware of the possibility that he might not.

“Because it’s colder in here than it is outside, if you get my meaning,” she said, answering Rick. “What’s going on?”

Setting the paper aside, he reached for his coffee. “Nothing.”

That assurance meant little to her, since he wasn’t the one she was concerned about. “Virgil?”

He glanced at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

She hesitated in the middle of the kitchen, still holding the frying pan. “Look, if there’s a problem—”

“There’s not a problem.” Rick gestured to the empty seat next to him. “Quit worrying and sit down so you can eat. This is our big day.”

When he punctuated that comment with an arrogant smile directed at Virgil, Virgil shot him a look that told Peyton he was no longer pretending to like Rick. Not that he’d gone to any great lengths before….

Afraid she was at the root of the conflict, she turned back to the stove, left the rest of the eggs in the pan and poured herself a cup of coffee. It’d been a mistake to get involved with Virgil, but it’d been an even bigger mistake to try and fix what she’d done by going to Rick.

Her misgivings about the investigation edged up another notch as she waited for them to finish eating, but she’d always felt nervous about it, so she was growing used to the sense of unease. It wouldn’t do any good to speak out again, anyway. She’d been trying to get Rick to listen to her from the beginning. Virgil, too. They wouldn’t.

She carried her cup to the table, where she sat down in a chair other than the one Rick had indicated. It felt like the only neutral choice because it wasn’t any closer to Virgil than it was Wallace. “How will you manage the transfer?”

Rick stopped chewing long enough to answer. “I’ve got a couple officers from Santa Rosa coming to transport him.”

She could tell that Virgil was paying attention to the conversation, but he wouldn’t look at her. He finished his breakfast, then stared out the window some more, brooding.

“Those officers know he’s not at the motel anymore?” she asked Rick.

“They do.” He washed down his last bite with a swallow of coffee. “I spoke to them while you were in the shower and explained that he was generating too much interest, so we moved him.”

Having Virgil picked up at the house would be so much safer than smuggling him out of the Redwood Inn. As awkward as last night had been, it was well worth the discomfort if only for this one reason. “So you won’t be coming to the prison yourself?”

“There’s no need. I want this to look very routine. So I’ll wait here until he’s been picked up. Then I’ll head back to Sacramento.” He set his fork on his plate and shoved it away. “Unless you’d be more comfortable if I stayed a day or two—to be sure he settles in okay.”

The way he glanced at her said he wanted her to act as if his presence would be welcome. But she knew it was highly unlikely that he’d really take the time, not unless there was a need greater than making her feel “comfortable.” He was showing off for Virgil’s benefit. He’d behaved in a proprietary fashion ever since he’d arrived, touching her now and then and showing more familiarity when he spoke to her. But she didn’t even want him around. At this point, she could barely stand the sight of him.

“No. I’m fine.” She added a smile so she wouldn’t be too obvious about wanting him to go. Maybe he and Mercedes would reconcile. She hoped so. She didn’t want the problem of Rick being single and available, which complicated everything. Only if he decided to put his marriage back together would he be able to forget her little faux pas with Virgil, because then he’d be focusing elsewhere, no longer looking to her as the next woman in his life.