The Vigilante's Lover #2

by Annie Winters

  I shudder around his hand. I can’t breathe, can’t talk, can’t think as I start to come down. This is what people talk about. This is why people do crazy stuff. This.

  I want more. So much more. I want it again and again. I clutch at Jax. “What did you just do?” I ask.

  His face looks puzzled. “This is new to you, isn’t it?”

  I don’t want to answer. I don’t want him to know how inexperienced I am.

  “I felt the resistance,” he says.

  This is not the sexy talk I expected. It’s like an interrogation. I let go of him.

  “Did you do the restructure surgery?” he says. “Were you in the program once?”

  I bite back my disappointment even as my body still hums against his hand. I don’t know what he’s talking about. What restructure? What program?

  Then it hits me. The hymen surgery. Fake virginity. Apparently it’s something certain types of operatives do.

  “I didn’t even know people did that until you told me about it,” I say. I don’t know what he’s getting at, why he stopped. Doesn’t he want to do the rest? I sink into the hay. This feels over already. I want to weep.

  Then I get it. He doesn’t want to be with a virgin. Or to destroy an expensive surgery.

  He withdraws his hand. I grab at it, stopping him from pulling away. “It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I don’t mind doing this. With you.”

  His Adam’s apple bobs. He looks genuinely concerned, something new. “You’ve never done any training, then,” he says.

  “Do they take your virginity during it?” I ask, half sitting up. Surely not!

  “Depends,” he says.

  “What?”

  “Most girls come in after college. It’s long gone.”

  I feel really naked now, too exposed for this conversation. I let go of him and cross my arms over my chest. “Well, mine isn’t.”

  “I realize that.”

  “Is it a problem?”

  The ground crunches outside and Jax leaps to his feet. Before I can even figure out what he’s doing, he’s snatched an axe from the wall and is crouching next to the door.

  Which is opening.

  And I’m naked and sprawled out in the hay.

  I grab the shawl and drag it around me. Jax’s shirt is near my feet so I pick that up too.

  The door only opens an inch. A friendly voice says, “You got a woman in there, don’t ya?”

  Jax visibly relaxes, although he doesn’t set down the axe.

  “Who’s with you?” he asks.

  “Just Colette.” The door opens wider and a broad dark-skinned man in a blue T-shirt and jeans appears in the gap.

  Now the axe comes down. “How the hell did you find me?” Jax asks.

  “We headed toward the silo the minute you stupidly set foot in it,” Sam answers. “Then about an hour ago you powered down. Figured you’d only do that in a jam.”

  “You had it transmit a signal, I assume,” Jax says.

  “Indeedy.” He looks around the barn until he spots me. “Yup, there’s the woman.” He calls out behind him, “I owe you a cheeseburger, Colette!”

  “Vegetarian!” a voice calls back with an accent like women in perfume commercials, exotic, with an unexpected lilt. French, I guess.

  “Jax, my man, you’ve lost your shirt!” He extends a hand.

  Jax sets the axe on the ground and shakes the hand firmly. “Gave it to the lady,” he says and nods his head at me.

  I clutch the shawl around me, grateful that it is so large, and try to give a little wave with my fingers.

  “I’m Sam,” he says. He walks forward as if to shake hands, then realizes my situation, holding tight to the shawl. “Jax is terrible with introductions.”

  “Mia,” I say.

  His gaze falls to the Phase One Trainee uniform shoes on the ground.

  “You snagged a Phase One?” he asks Jax and lets out a whistle. “Good thing their ID transmitters are short range.”

  “Long story,” Jax says. “Is Colette coming? We have to find out who killed Klaus.”

  “We wanted to talk to you about that. I’ll fetch her first.” Sam heads back out into the sunlight.

  When he’s gone, Jax turns to me. “I guess you’ll want your clothes now.”

  His reflexes are good, so he manages to dodge the clod of dirt I fling at his face.

  4: Jax

  This girl is something else.

  Her eyes are wild as she lets a hunk of dirt fly at me. The effort causes her to lose her grip on the shawl and it glides back to the hay.

  I sidestep so she misses but don’t stop looking at her.

  So luscious.

  The light from the cracks in the barn makes bright stripes on her skin. I’m not sure which I like better, her standing there, angry as hell, or lying back, enjoying my attention.

  “Yes, I want my clothes,” she snaps.

  I hold up my hands to fend off anything else she might throw at me. “I’ll fetch them.”

  I’m still taken aback by her lack of experience. She’s definitely not in the Vigilante program. Honest-to-God virginity is a bit of a liability in that game. Besides, the training alone tends to throw young people together in ways that just seem to encourage a lot of carnal acts.

  But this Mia. I don’t really know what to do with her.

  Since I haven’t left the barn yet, she snatches my shirt, still lying at her feet, and sticks her arms through. It’s too large and ends about mid-thigh. I think she might look sexier in it than out of it, although perhaps that’s because I imagine taking it off again.

  It may be just as well Sam arrived. A situation like this takes some consideration. And time.

  “Sometime this year, maybe?” Her voice spits fire. She probably didn’t appreciate Sam’s suggestion that I’m always with a woman. He’s not very good at saying the right thing in front of ladies.

  Before I can answer, Sam and Colette are back. When Mia sees another woman has arrived, I can see her shrink back with dismay.

  “Mon Dieu, what have you done to this poor girl?” Colette immediately heads straight for Mia. “Where are her clothes?” Her tirade continues with a half dozen French expletives.

  She wraps her arm around Mia. “Let me get you away from this jackass,” she says.

  “I have things in the car,” Mia says.

  “She got hit by a poison dart,” I mention, rubbing the back of my neck.

  “And all her clothes flew off?” Colette shoots back.

  There is no point in arguing with an irate Colette. I step back as they pass me for the door. Colette scoops up the shoes on the way.

  Sam shakes his head. When they are gone, he says, “That one’s going to cause you trouble.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam couldn’t know who Mia is.

  “You can’t take your eyes off her,” he says. “How did you sneak a Phase One out of training?”

  “She has the shoes, but she’s civilian,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Not your usual type,” he says, leaning against the barn wall. He glances around. “Nor your usual venue. What happened at the silo in St. Louis?”

  “Didn’t go well,” I say.

  “Big surprise,” Sam says. “Saw the alert ordering you to New Attica. That’s one hell of a prison.”

  I pick up the axe again and turn it over in my hand. “They wouldn’t listen.”

  “Tried to tell you, boss.”

  I shake my head. “Doesn’t make sense. Klaus was killed. His record was deleted. Then the safe-house records were altered.”

  Sam shakes his head. “Ain’t nobody got the clearance for that. Not even Sutherland himself.”

  “Exactly. And it reminds me of another bit of tampering.”

  “You mean Jovana and that dude you killed.”

  “Singer,” I say grimly. His death still weighs on me. “Elroy Singer.”

  “He was a punk anyway,” Sam says.

  “Vigil
ante punk.”

  “Still a punk.” Sam peers out the barn door. “We can’t stay long with her car. We’re too close to your rendezvous with the silo.”

  “I assume they aren’t on to me since I jettisoned the Crybaby.”

  “Am I good or am I good?” Sam’s teeth flash white in the dim barn. “You got a plan?”

  “I’m planning to take Mia back to the safe house,” I tell him.

  If she’ll go, I think silently. That girl is determined to stay on my tail. That’s why I pulled back in the hay when I realized she was a virgin. She’ll get attached, and I don’t need her as a liability with everything going on.

  “Colette can do that,” Sam says. “Do we need to do one of your covert exits?”

  I grunt out a short laugh. Sam has gotten me out of a lot of tight spots, and some of them have involved extricating myself from an overexuberant female.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “She seemed a little miffed.”

  “She has her heart set on going with me.”

  “Ah,” Sam says. “Looks like she’s all dressed now.”

  Colette and Mia come back in the barn. Colette tosses me a shirt and pushes the door a little wider to get more light in.

  “Colette, I’m going to need you to take Mia back to the safe house,” I say, setting down the axe so I can dress.

  “What?” Mia interjects. “I thought after —” She sputters out, not wanting to say what she did in hopes of earning a place with me.

  “You thought wrong,” I say firmly. “Colette will see you home.” I slip on the shirt and start buttoning it. “Sam, I assume my car is all right for you to ride in for a while?”

  “I’ll activate my secondary clone ID,” Sam says. “That’ll buy us some time.”

  “Where are you going?” Colette asks. “Should I meet up with you?”

  Mia looks from one to the other like she’s watching a tennis match. Her anger is about to turn to tears. I need out of here before that happens.

  “We’ll let you know,” I say. “Sam will rig something up for communication.”

  “I saw you lost both my Blackphone AND my Crybaby,” Sam says. “I’m not giving you anything good anymore.”

  I clap him on the back. “Sure you will.” I head toward the door.

  “You’re not even going to say good-bye?” Mia’s voice is tremulous.

  Colette wraps her arm around Mia’s shoulders. “That rat isn’t worth the words,” she says. “Jax De Luca, I’m ashamed of you. This poor wretched girl.”

  But Mia doesn’t like that either. She shrugs Colette away. “I’m not wretched, and I’m not a girl.”

  She storms past all of us and back out into the yard.

  “Not sure where she’s going,” Sam says. “Unless she’s going to hitchhike.”

  “Go pick her up,” I tell Colette.

  “I’m not fond of cleaning up your messes,” she says.

  “This one is unusual,” I say. “She wants to be a Vigilante and doesn’t understand how things work.”

  “I see,” Colette says. “All right. I’ll take her back.” She steps up to me and pokes my shirt. “But you better turn over a new leaf. I’m not going to let young innocents get brokenhearted because you had bad judgment with that other woman.”

  I hold up my hands. “Understood.”

  Sam shakes his head. “Jax, my man, you have got to get your pecker under wraps.”

  I almost correct him on this matter, but decide it’s best just to let it go.

  5: Mia

  I’ve never been more grateful for a pair of stolen shoes in my life.

  The Phase One Trainee sneakers are like walking on air, even if I am leaving in a huff from a barn in the middle of God-knows-where, just minutes after my first orgasm.

  My face blazes just thinking about it.

  Then he rejected me.

  God.

  Thankfully the blazer that came with the navy pantsuit is heavy enough for the blustery wind. In the sun, I’m relatively warm, but as I pass the shadow of the old house, I shiver.

  The three of them are talking at the barn still. Jax wants to pawn me off on that French woman. She’s nice, but I’m not going to do anything he says again.

  Ever.

  The ground crunches beneath my shoes as I head up the long drive. I’ll get to the road, stick out my thumb, and start another life of danger. I’ll hitchhike with truck drivers.

  So there.

  They’ll probably try to do something to me, though.

  Ugh.

  This line of thought takes me straight back to the barn, and Jax hovering over me, hands working, his beautiful face inches from mine.

  Damn it.

  I want the rest of it. Him naked too. All the things lovers do.

  My body flushes hot.

  Gah. This isn’t helping.

  The trees rustle overhead. They tower on either side of the long drive like soldiers. This must have been an amazing homestead at one time.

  A car rumbles up behind me. It’s probably Jax and his fancy friends, all jetting off to their next big adventure. Danger that I’m too sweet and innocent for, apparently.

  I am the one who got us out of that stupid silo. I was the special one with the security bracelet.

  I didn’t panic when we went up a dark ladder or jumped off a cliff into a river. I kept up with him when we ran through the woods.

  Although I guess I am also the one who almost got us caught in the car.

  Now I’m back to how it felt to be with Jax, sitting in his lap, tying his arms over his head. He may have taught me how to focus and untie myself, but I have so much more to learn. Who knows, maybe I even know a knot or two to show him.

  Damn it.

  The car slows down as it approaches. The window rolls down. It’s not Jax’s car, but a silver BMW.

  “Mia!” Colette calls. “Please get in!”

  I ignore her, looking stubbornly ahead. I don’t want her to have to take me home. I’m going to do it myself, even if some skanky truck driver tries to fondle me.

  Maybe I’ll let him. Take that, Jax.

  Colette angles her car to my side of the road and cuts me off. I halt, surprised she could maneuver the car so effectively.

  I back up, planning to circle the BMW, but she does it again, cornering the car hard so that the fender brushes my fingers. She’s that close.

  I head for the trees. She can’t reach me in there. But she jets forward and practically circles me to cut me off from that direction. I’ve never seen anyone move a car like that.

  So I stop.

  “Is that your superpower?” I call out. “Making a car skip around like a punch-drunk squirrel?”

  Her high laughter makes me smile even if I am miffed. “You are so adorable. I see why Jax is so enraptured by you.”

  Jax? Enraptured?

  The side door pops open on its own. I want to hear more about this, so I decide to get in.

  The interior of this car is not as posh and supple as Jax’s Lexus, but it’s sporty and fun. The leather seats are dark red. The dash is silver. “Do you have all the fancy stuff Jax has in his car?” I ask.

  “Way more,” Colette says as we speed down the drive and careen around a curve. “Jax’s car is a retrofit. This is Vigilante from the ground up.”

  I reach for a seat belt, then realize there isn’t an ordinary buckle.

  “Oh, here,” Colette says, and presses one of what must be a hundred buttons on her dash.

  I hear a buzz near my ear and a beam of light crosses my shoulder, follows the curve of my chest, and goes down to my waist.

  “Is it a laser seat belt?” I ask.

  “Oh, no,” Colette says with another merry laugh. “It’s just assessing what level of safety is most optimum for your size.”

  After a second, another buzz makes me turn my head. This time it’s a belt, not made of a fabric weave like traditional ones, but a rubbery silicone. It is pre-shaped to my bod
y.

  “Strange,” I say as the metal clasp jets across my body, then finds its mate on the seat. For a moment it fits loosely, then it snaps into place.

  I’ve never felt so firmly secured in a car. Against my back, I can feel the seat shifting to adjust just for me.

  For a moment, I think it’s going to force me to sit pressed into the cushion the whole time, but when I lean forward, it allows me to move, just like an ordinary belt.

  “This system keeps you safe when you ride with a Phase Six Driver like me,” she says. “I’m authorized to drive up to sixteen hundred kilometers per hour.” She pauses. “That’s about one thousand miles per hour for you Americans.”

  “Cars can go that fast?” I ask. “Do race car drivers go that fast?”

  “The current world record for land speed is 750 miles per hour,” she says. “But Vigilante drivers consider that a toddler on a trike.”

  I hold on to the belt with both hands. “Are we going to go that fast?”

  “Not in this car, sadly. No jets. But don’t worry, we are in no hurry to get you to the safe house.” She presses several buttons and a screen blips on. It reads “Eight miles to rendezvous with clone identity.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask. I want to learn it all. Maybe I can convince this Colette person to keep me on. I wouldn’t lose Jax then.

  “I attached my identification to another person so I could meet Jax without the network knowing,” she says. “He’s not exactly on their good side at the moment.”

  “How is it that you can defeat their security so easily?” I ask.

  “Oh, it’s not easy, that’s for sure,” she says. “But Jax was a director, in line to take over the entire American syndicate. That got him some very high-level assistance, people like Sam, who can circumvent the very technology he invented.”

  “And you? Are you special too?” I ask.

  “Not particularly,” she says. “But I can do this.” She veers off the highway and we’re in the forest. Somehow she dodges trees, swerving right and left. Small branches whip against the windshield.

  Then we hit a clearing and a small pond. She aims right for it.