The Vigilante's Lover #4 (Volume 4)

by Annie Winters

  I’m dying to look at my face, but I’m tied up. And afraid of what I look like. I close my eyes and try to feel any injuries. My jaw is aching and there is something strange about my cheek when I smile. Like there’s dried blood.

  So I shut up. No use getting any more scars than I may already have. I assess the rest of my body, but I can’t get any sense of other injuries with the ropes biting into me in so many places.

  She tries calling Klaus again and I hold back a nasty remark. So her partner in crime has cut her off. Jax didn’t kill him, I know that. Maybe he’s just gone off grid. He did it to Jax before. That’s what started this whole thing, at least my part of it.

  Jax. I calm myself by picturing his rugged face, that thick dark hair, his gray stormy eyes. I’ve known I was in love with him for a while now, but Jax isn’t the sort of guy you hand your heart over to. It’s likely to get shot right out of your hands.

  But I can nurse that feeling anyway. It’s new to me, tender and exhilarating at the same time. He can’t be in too much duress if he was able to tie that thief knot. But they were quiet. I was in the very next room and didn’t hear a thing when whoever took him arrived.

  The car dings that it is low on fuel. Jovana curses. I’m sure she’d rather have a Vigilante car, and I wonder why she can’t get one. But if Klaus is blowing her off, she might be in trouble with the Vigilantes. Maybe that’s why she came for me. Her last conversation with Sutherland didn’t go well either, the one I overheard in the parking lot. She accused him of avoiding her.

  Something is definitely up. Maybe that’s why she needs me. Some sort of leverage. A hostage. I don’t know. The only person who might care about me is Jax.

  I assume he does.

  Of course he does.

  He brought me along. He teased me with that gun to get me past that fear. My blood rushes just thinking about it. I believe with all my heart that he intends to keep me with him.

  I have to hold on to that right now.

  We pass a gas station, and I glance over at the fuel gauge. It says we can only go thirty more miles. The road is well traveled, so there will be more stations, but I wonder how she’s going to hide a bound woman from anyone who might pull up to a pump next to her. In broad daylight, that’s going to get some attention. Unlike Vigilante cars, which have special windows to hide the interior, anyone can see right in.

  As the number continues to drop with Jovana’s lead-foot driving, I start to form a plan.

  3: Jax

  Carter leans forward on the interrogation table. He seems tired.

  “Jax,” he says, “after you left my silo, I did some digging.” He runs his fingers through his short-cropped graying hair. “There are a lot of abnormalities in the data, starting about eighteen months ago.”

  I sit down in the chair opposite him, careful not to bump the jacket covering the video mechanism.

  “What did you find?” I ask. I know how high this goes, but I’m curious if Carter does. Probably so, if he felt the need to knock out the power to the room to avoid Vigilante higher-ups from listening in.

  “I know that Klaus isn’t dead. I know he’s working with Sutherland and a special.” He rubs his thumbs against his eyebrows. “And I know they are recruiting people for something big, something technology driven.”

  “What sort of thing?” I ask. This last part is new.

  “Sutherland is gathering Phase Tens and taking them off grid.” He lifts his Identipad as if to show me, then thinks better of it and sets it down again. “Better not tip them off that I’m working in here,” he says.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Gabriella Soto from Mexico, a poison specialist. She allegedly died in a shootout four months ago. Jason Ferro from Detroit, a technology guy, like Klaus. His death record was cleaned a little better, so I’m not sure what his cause was.”

  “How do you know they’re involved?” I ask.

  “Their cars.” He grins. “When a Vigilante car is transferred to a new owner, there’s a record. Their cars seem to be driven by ghosts.”

  “Nice,” I say. “So what do you think this team is for?”

  “I was hoping you would know,” he says.

  The lights flicker overhead. “We’re out of time,” he says. “I’m going to fake your death just like they’ve been doing, and get you to that car you stole from Paulson. Stand up for me.”

  I rise from the chair. “Where am I going?”

  “To Washington. To Sutherland. A couple ghost cars were headed that direction. So will you.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I’m going to be watching you. You’ll have an ID assigned to you, one I’ve set aside for a while for a Vigilante who disappeared in the Sahara but that I’ve kept active.”

  I nod.

  “As the power comes up, I’m going to knock you out. When you come to, you’ll be in the car with the new ID. I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to stay off grid. But I can get you started, and I’ll send people to help you as I can.”

  He turns grimly to the jacket covering the dome. “The whole network is at risk now. Nobody can trust anybody, with things going on like they are.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m a dead man anyway,” I tell him.

  He yanks the jacket off the dome. “Power’s back. Now that we can document things, it’s time to go off grid for good.” He clicks an invisible button on the table. A panel slides open, and he lifts a silver case from a hidden compartment.

  “You going to fight or can I do this with just us?” he asks.

  “I don’t need an audience,” I say bitterly.

  He pulls the syringe out, a yellow one for the snuff dart. My eyes follow Carter’s hand as he moves toward me.

  “I’d ask for last words, but I don’t really give a shit,” Carter says.

  “Do what you’ve got to do,” I say.

  He pricks my arm. I’ve seen a snuff dart used a dozen times, and I’ve administered them myself. I know what it looks like to go down with one. It’s clean and easy, a crumple to the ground.

  I plan to emulate that look so that the dart is convincing, but then I realize it’s happening without my trying.

  Suddenly I wonder if this was all a double cross, a ploy to make me an easy mark. They kept me from putting up a fight.

  The room starts to swirl, and I lose feeling in my legs. My knees hit the ground in a bruising crash.

  My body starts to fall forward. I think my head is going to bash the floor but mercifully, before that can happen, everything goes black.

  4: Mia

  We pass six more gas stations, and I can feel Jovana’s concern growing. Maybe there’s too many people at them. Maybe she’s forgotten civilian cars aren’t always electric like Vigilante ones.

  I’m not going to clue her in.

  I’m bound in so many ways, I can’t get loose. But I’m not gagged. I can scream.

  I can also kick at the dash. If Jovana gets out to pump gas, I’m pretty sure I can do some serious damage to this car while she’s outside. Maybe I can set off an alarm or even break the gearshift and make the car inoperable.

  I have to try.

  The gauge says five miles to empty. We’re on the outskirts of Knoxville. Maybe we’re heading somewhere within the range of the gas she has. I feel weary, unable to move in all the restraints, the ropes rubbing my upper arms even through the jacket.

  We approach a station and this time Jovana slows down. My heart speeds up. We’re going to stop.

  I try to avoid staring at her or looking anxious. I keep my eyes cast down on my lap. Still, I watch her from my peripheral vision.

  She pulls up to the farthest pump so that I’m on the outside. Unless someone walks by, no one will notice me. Even so, before she gets out, she reaches into the backseat and snatches up the tarp that was on the car before we stole it.

  And she covers me, head to toe.

  I sneeze from the stirred-up dust. I can’t see anything now other than the glow of light throug
h the fabric. Crap.

  I hear her door open, then close. I listen carefully for the sound of the gas nozzle going into the tank. She’s outside and not paying attention to me.

  I have to go for it.

  I twist and lift my legs, trying to maneuver toward the center of the car. My feet swing up and I kick at the dash, hearing a satisfying crunch that might be the screen.

  The ball that controls the dash is in the console, and I keep kicking, hoping I can break it off. My feet find the steering wheel, but that seems futile. At this awkward angle, I can’t get enough power in my legs to do anything to it.

  But my foot does find the windshield-wiper lever and I kick until I hear it break off.

  The door swings open.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jovana asks. Something closes around my ankle. I guess she’s trying to hold me.

  I kick with all my might, pummeling my feet at her.

  “You little bitch!” she says and lets go.

  I think she’s retreated because I don’t connect with her anymore.

  The door slams.

  I’m alone in the car again. I jerk hard at the ropes, trying to get all the wiggle room I can muster to give me leverage to kick at the controls again. I hear another crunch.

  Then I feel air.

  My car door is open.

  I still can’t see, but then the world is brighter as the tarp moves.

  Maybe she’ll drag me out of the car and leave me here. I just have to be more trouble than I’m worth.

  I jerk against the bonds, trying to free an elbow enough that I can get a shot at her.

  Jovana grabs me. It’s not hard to keep me still since I’m mostly tied down anyway.

  I feel a prick in my arm and something cold runs into my veins. I look down and see a needle withdrawing from my sleeve. She’s stabbed me blindly.

  But the drug moves through me. My stomach turns, and I feel sick.

  I wonder if it’s the same thing that drugged me before, or one of the Vigilante poisons. Will I wake up in a few hours, or do I have seven minutes until I’m dead?

  My head feels heavy, too much for my neck to hold. It lolls to one side like I’m not in control.

  Jax would be so disappointed in me. Despite my best efforts, I’m failing at everything. Caught by the enemy. Unable to get loose from the ropes despite all my practice. Drugged.

  I won’t cry. I won’t. Vigilantes don’t cry.

  But my eyes burn. I’m bitter and angry at myself for not being more careful, for not realizing Jovana would track her Vigilante watch, for getting caught in the first place.

  I don’t deserve to be part of their network. As a spy, I’m a total failure. I have no training. I mess up the basics.

  The color starts to drain out of the light I can see. I sense Jovana getting back in the car and starting the engine.

  By the time the car lurches forward, I’m falling into darkness.

  5: Jax

  Wherever I am, it’s pitch black.

  My head vibrates with a rumbling under the floor. I jostle a little in the tight confines. The air is hot and smells of rubber and dust.

  But I’m not dead. So Carter was playing it straight back at the silo. The yellow dart that he gave me wasn’t a snuff poison. Just a drug.

  The heavy magnetic cuffs are off my wrists. I shift my ankles. I’m not restrained in any way. That’s a good sign. But I’m heavy, like I’m still sedated. Half-conscious.

  I feel suspicious. If they trusted me, I shouldn’t need to be drugged. Or locked up in the dark.

  I breathe hard and fast for several seconds, infusing my brain with oxygen as I run my hands along the bottom of the space. Metal. Carpet. A rounded form bumped out on both sides. For tires. I’m in the trunk of a car.

  A red light starts blinking, slow and steady. Probably a motion detector that lets them know I’m awake. I wonder if they are listening.

  “Who’s driving?” I ask.

  No answer. I guess not.

  But the car slows down. They’ve noticed the alarm.

  Just in case my situation isn’t what it seems, I feel around for something I can use as a weapon. Tire jack. Suitcase. Anything. But it’s just me in the trunk. Still in my pajama pants and the T-shirt from the hotel when I left Mia.

  Mia. I wonder where she is. I have no idea how much time has passed.

  All Vigilante car trunks have a false bottom. My fingers find the edges of the covering, and I flip the lever hidden underneath. The trapdoor lifts an inch as we roll to a stop.

  I scoot as far as I can away from the opening so I can lift it enough to reach inside. There might be a cache of weapons or something else I can use.

  But the door isn’t made to open while someone’s sitting on it.

  I’m out of time anyway, as the latch clicks on the trunk lid. I spin onto my back, feet out, ready to fight. I force my adrenaline to surge to combat the downward pull of the drug.

  The sky appears in degrees, and the body of a man in running gear.

  Seriously?

  It’s Paulson. He grins at me like a big ape. “Happy to see me?” he says.

  I resist the urge to knock him backward. He holds out a hand as if he’s going to assist, but I push off with my arms, neatly hopping out of the trunk.

  “Nice dismount,” he says wryly. “I told them the drugs weren’t going to be enough for you. Too bad that shiner messes up your youthful good looks.”

  I touch my hands to my face. The side of one eye is swollen. “Easy shot at a restrained man,” I say and take a look around.

  He shrugs. “All for show.”

  No mention of how I bested him at the silo as well as in the car chase. Sore points, probably.

  We’re near an old covered wooden bridge. A river trickles below. The road is narrow. The air is a little cooler than in Nashville, and the trees are less piney, more deciduous. They’re showing fall colors. “We’ve gone farther east,” I say.

  “Yeah, we’re in Virginia,” he says. “That dart knocked you out for hours.”

  “We’re traveling fast,” I say.

  Paulson closes the trunk and pats the bumper of the car. “Yeah, nice to have my car back.”

  He’s right. It is his. The one I stole from him and stashed in Tennessee, when I met up with Mia and got my Aston Martin back.

  “Why was I in the trunk?” I ask.

  “Dead man don’t ride in the seats,” he says.

  Right again. I forgot they faked my death.

  “Where are we headed?” I ask.

  “D.C. We should make it in about two hours,” he says.

  “How’d you find your car?” I ask. “I left it cloaked in a seriously remote town.”

  Paulson jerks his thumb at the front. “Your friend has been in contact with Carter for a few days now. He asked for cover yesterday when he got blown. Apparently that special of yours called him when you got up close and personal with that prosthetic-skin kill device. He had to bow out as a Vigilante or face a tribunal for helping you.”

  “Sam is here?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Paulson thumps on the back window.

  The passenger door opens and a dark buzzed head appears. Sam turns, speaking into a Blackphone, and waves. He holds up a finger, telling us to wait a second.

  “He’s up,” Sam says into the receiver. “I’ll fill him in.” He shuts off the phone and stares at it with admiration. “Damn, I do good work. I can talk like I’m not on the run with a dead man.”

  “Hey, Sam,” I say. “Figured I’d meet you in hell.”

  He strides up to me and smacks my back. “You’ve got a death wish lately, boy.”

  “Funny what happens when you’re under a kill order.”

  He hands me a Vigilante watch. “Your fake ID. Answer to Jed Buchanan.”

  I strap it on. “You don’t happen to have any clothes for me somewhere, do you?”

  Paulson grunts in annoyance. “You and your fancy pants.”


  Sam shakes his head. “We’ll stop somewhere before we hit headquarters.” He glances down at my pajama bottoms. “Based on the, um, situation, seems like this is better than what it could have been.”

  “Pink bondage rope,” Paulson says.

  Sam stifles a laugh.

  No telling how much they watched or recorded. Mia would be mortified. I have no desire to know what they saw.

  “Fine,” I say. “What sort of intel do we have on the situation?”

  “Let’s get back on the road,” Sam says. “We can update you en route.”

  “He’s a lousy driver,” I say. “Let me take the wheel.”

  Paulson snorts. “You’re coming off the juice dart. No way are you taking over my car.” He heads back to the driver’s side door.

  “Chill, Jax,” Sam says. “They dosed you hard so you’d pass for dead. Had to bring your respiration down to untrackable levels. You’re bound to feel like shit.”

  “I feel fine.” It’s a lie. I can still feel the slowness of my responses. But I can fake it.

  “Get in the back,” Sam says. “I’ll let you know where we are with this.”

  I open the door and sink into the leather, angry that Paulson is along for the ride. I want to ask about Mia, if she’s been picked up. But not around him. Someone should probably know who she is, that she’s the descendant of Vigilante One. More than just a special. The granddaddy of specials. But I say nothing.

  Sam gets in beside me, and Paulson drops the car into high-speed auto-drive. The scenery whips past.

  I sit back. “So, anybody figure out why Sutherland’s recruiting Vigilantes and faking their deaths?”

  “No idea,” Sam says. “But there’s a lot of them, all foreign recruited.”

  “Anybody tracking where they go?” I ask.

  “We’ve got a watch on their cars. A few have headed toward D.C., but most go inactive after a couple days.” Sam passes me an Identipad.

  “Is this safe to use?” I ask.

  Sam nods. “It’s Paulson’s. We had to bring him along since I’m deactivated.”