I’m getting Jax.
13: Jax
I really could use a shirt.
A little old lady sitting on a concrete bench near the entrance to the cemetery watches me curiously as I enter through the pedestrian gate. I wish I had put on workout shorts and running shoes when I left the hotel, so I could just jog past her and seem perfectly normal.
But I couldn’t have predicted that I would end up strolling through the manicured grounds of the final resting places of so many fine souls when I got hauled out at gunpoint.
I nod at her kindly, feeling her gaze as I stroll past. Despite my state of dress, I feel I’m better off inside the walls than walking randomly along the highway.
Mia and Colette should be here soon anyway.
Mia!
I’m already restless with plans. We’ll stop for clothes, have a decent meal, then I’ll grab some identification from my nearest stash — not D.C., but somewhere — and rent a car. A plain old civilian car! I’ll shut down my known residences, or maybe I won’t even bother, just fly to Switzerland and buy a chateau at whatever point is the farthest from any Vigilante silo.
Forget they exist. Forget anything else exists.
Mia. All to myself. Endlessly. I stop in front of a row of well-nursed chrysanthemums. We’ll garden. We’ll grow flowers and vegetables.
We’ll be normal people.
Avoid boats. Big bodies of water. Guns. Poison darts.
Buy lots of rope. Practice knots. On each other. Endlessly.
Maybe I’ll lead a Boy Scout troop.
The thought makes me laugh. Everything makes me laugh. I’m out. I’m done. It doesn’t matter.
It’s over.
The elderly lady has taken out an apple and is slicing it. She alternates eating one slice and setting another in the grass by a headstone. Her simple joy in doing this calms me.
Mia and I are going to be just like that. Quiet. Devoted. A love affair that even death can’t end.
I cross the lawns to get closer to the road. There’s another concrete bench under a tree that can hide me from casual glances.
I sit on it. Opposite is a double headstone with two overlapping hearts. Doris and Bernard Thatcher. They died within weeks of each other after long eighty-something-year lives.
That’s what I want. That exactly.
Now that I’m not running, the chill sets in. But it feels good. I feel good. The jump and the swim and the race away from the river have cleared my head and body from the drug that got me out of the silo.
I breathe in deeply, loving the clear crisp air and the glory that is autumn in this part of the country. The leaves are already changing and soon will be bright with reds and golds.
I’m getting a new start, right here.
I feel something brush my arm, and I leap into action, ready to fight.
But it’s the old lady.
“So sorry to startle you,” she says. “I thought you could use this.” She passes me a soft, well-worn cardigan, the sort an older man might wear.
“It was my husband’s.” She waves her hand in the direction of the bench where she was sitting when I passed. “I’ve been silly, bringing him snacks and sweaters. I think it would look very fine on you. He’d like that.”
My mind wants to examine her story for inconsistencies, lies, or attempts to detain me while someone comes for me. I can’t quite program out my distrust, my trained responses.
But I force it down. This is my new life. I slide an arm into the sleeve of the cardigan. It smells of hand-washing and home.
“Thank you,” I say. I plan to make up a story, some bit of cover for why I’m out here dressed this way.
But she just pats my arm. “I’ve seen people come out here in all states. Grief does that.” She steps away. “The sweater looks good on you.”
Then she starts walking, not back to the grave, but toward a single car parked along the road.
I sit back on the bench. Mia would be that sort of woman, I think, one who would let go of a beloved article of clothing to help someone else. “You picked a good one,” I say to the sleeve, as if it’s the person who once wore it. “So did I.”
The old lady’s car chugs past at a snail’s pace. She waves as she passes by. I lift my hand in return.
This has been the slowest half hour of my life. But I think it might be one of the best. I know what I’m doing now. Where I’m going. I don’t have to run the U.S. syndicate. I don’t need to track down criminals or lead a silo. I’ve experienced enough crime-fighting in this lifetime already to have done my part.
I’m going to settle down.
My brother, who opted out of the network when I went in, has three kids. I can have some, let them get to know their cousins. I’ll teach them martial arts. Coach Little League.
By the time Colette’s silver BMW appears at the gate, I have my entire life figured out. I just need to start it.
I assume Mia is driving, by the lurching acceleration and brakes. She’s coming through the cemetery at a crazy clip.
Slow down, I think, and stand up to meet them. Hopefully she won’t plow into the trees.
The car slams to a stop. The door opens and Mia appears. I’m so thrilled to see her that at first I don’t really think about how she’s acting. She’s bruised and her cheekbone is purple. Rage surges in me that Jovana even touched her.
She runs over to me and flings herself into my arms. I hold on to her so tight. She feels perfect.
I lean back to tell her what I’ve planned, our new life, just like what she talked about in the hotel in Nashville, when I’d been foolish and insisted that my job was more important than our future.
But her face is frantic, panicked. “Get in the car. Colette’s feeling well enough to drive now. We’re in a terrible hurry.”
She drags me by the hand back to the car.
I resist, digging my feet in. “Wait. I haven’t even kissed you!” I don’t understand her rush. “We’re together now. We don’t have to go with Colette if you don’t want to.”
Mia doesn’t seem to be listening. She tugs at me and notices my naked wrist where the cardigan sleeve is a little short. “Where is your Vigilante watch? That’s why Sam couldn’t find you. Come on!”
I refuse to move. “Mia, stop. I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to drive fast or head to Washington.” I reel her in, pulling her close again.
For a moment she looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine. I think I’ve gotten her to see what I’m talking about. That this is our time now.
“Jax!” she says with exasperation. “We have to GO. They’re going to execute three Vigilantes on camera within hours.”
“They chose the wrong side, then,” I say. “I’m out of the game. I just want to go somewhere with you.”
She hesitates. “Jax, I don’t think you understand. Everything has gone wild. And they’ve put out a kill order on Sam and Colette.”
14: Mia
What has happened to Jax?
He stands in the middle of the cemetery, wearing a worn-out cardigan and pajama pants, refusing to get in the car.
He’s looking out over the grounds.
I tug on his hand again. “Did something happen to you, Jax? We can’t stay here. We’re within minutes of our last known location.” I glance up at the sky. “There could be a helicopter or a satellite trace anytime now.”
Jax’s face is still screwed up, as if he’s trying to understand what I’ve said. “Who put the kill order on Colette and Sam?” he asks.
“Sutherland,” I say with exasperation. “We think his plan wasn’t working and he got desperate.” I jerk on his arm. “Can you please get in gear?”
He lets me lead him to the car. I jerk open the door and climb in the back. I don’t want him to be far from me. Something’s changed in him, and we need to figure out a plan.
“Now that is a fashion statement,” Colette calls back as Jax sits behind her.
Jax nods absently.
>
“Is he okay?” Colette mouths into the rearview mirror as our eyes meet. I just shrug.
“Hold on to your seat belts, lovebirds,” she says. “We’re going to see what this baby can do.”
“They’ll see your speed,” Jax says. He shakes his head as if he’s clearing his mind.
“Not if I’m in the trees,” Colette responds in singsong.
She slams on the accelerator and the car whips around to blast back out the cemetery gates.
I turn to Jax. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” He leans forward to look at the screen. It still flashes with the alert on Sam and Colette. “How long since that went out?”
“Ten minutes,” Colette says. “I figure that was about when Jovana got her antidote and took over the situation.” She glances back at us with a frown. “Vigilante blood is spilling all over the globe.”
She guns the car and we fly along the highway. She swaps the screen out for a map with red pulsing dots. “Nobody’s that close,” she says. “And nobody’s heading for us.” She presses a few buttons. “But I’m not taking any chances.” The dash goes dark as she returns to cloaked mode.
Jax and I fall against the back of the seat as she jets forward and veers off the road. We go straight into the trees and she dodges the big ones, weaving through spaces I don’t think we can possibly fit.
After a moment, my body adjusts to the erratic movements. I try to calm down. I’ve been in a panic ever since I saw the alert.
Jax stares out the window. He still seems to be in some sort of daze.
“You went down hard when they shot you with that dart,” I say to him. “Were you faking that?”
“No,” he says. “They drugged me enough that I would pass for dead.” He turns back to me and his eyes soften. “I’m fine now.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
His jaw tightens.
I wrap my fingers around his hand, squeezing. “We’re going to try to intercept Sam. We think it’s safest if we all stick together.”
“Is Paulson still with him?”
“No. They had to separate or Paulson couldn’t stay in the game.”
This gets him. He sits up. “Is Sam safe?”
“He’ll get by,” Colette calls back. “He’s got his toys.”
Jax sets a Blackphone on the console. “You can reach him with this.”
“Yes, he mentioned it in the last communication. Said you’d taken it from his hand before jumping into the river.” Colette’s laugh is like the tinkle of glass. “You are one crazy man.”
“Where are we going?” Jax asks.
“D.C. Same as everybody,” Colette says. “It will take an hour since I have to evade.”
Trees continue to whip by, but they are thinner now, and the car jostles less.
“Sam is coming up with a plan,” she says. We arrive at a small road, and Colette gets on it. “That should have killed a visual if they had it. I’ll do another maneuver in a bit just in case.” She sets the car on auto-drive and turns around.
“I still have another of your suits in a bag back there,” she says. “So you can restore your usual spiffy appearance.” She presses a button and a wall rolls up between the front and back seats. “To protect your modesty. Or my virgin eyes.” She laughs again.
The wall fits into place, and we can’t see her anymore.
I’m not sure what is going on with Jax, but I’m sure he’ll feel better in decent clothes. I unzip the bag. “Colette really watches out for you,” I say as I pass him a shirt and pants.
Jax stares at the clothes like they’re foreign objects. “She always has,” he says absently.
I clutch the garments in my lap. “Can you please tell me what is going on with you, Jax? You’re not acting anything like the last time I saw you.”
His eyes fix on me, drinking in my face, my hair, and roving down my body. I see where he lingers and my blood starts to beat, heating up all the places his glance touches.
He reaches out and slowly, gently, traces a finger along the furry edge of my collar, then up my jaw and across my cheek. “I’m so relieved to see you,” he says.
“Me too,” I say and close my eyes. He’s acting so different from before. But this tender gaze, this slow touch, it’s driving me crazier than his passionate wildness.
“Come here,” he says, and his arms come around me, dragging me tight against him.
I can barely breathe, so many emotions are competing for attention. Need. Relief. Joy. Excitement. Confusion.
I want to connect with him. I lift my face, expecting the crushing torment of his blazing kiss.
But I get gentle instead. His mouth is tender, soft nibbles that caress my mouth. This glow starts in my belly, something so different from what I felt before. Instead of the passionate flare, it’s a feeling of unfurling, like a flower opening. It’s intense and full of longing.
Jax deepens the kiss then, parting my lips. His hands are everywhere, my waist, my back, my hips, like he needs to memorize my shape. Like he can’t believe it’s really me.
I turn in to him. The cardigan is soft and smells like fresh laundry, air-dried in a backyard. I suddenly understand the need to touch him, to make sure he’s real. It’s like we’re in some other world, and we’re not sure what senses to trust.
I run my hands along the soft sweater, feeling his biceps as they expand into his shoulders. I begin to unbutton the front, wanting more of him, to feel every muscle.
His belly is hot and flat and firm. I run my hands up his smooth chest. I can feel his every inhale.
Jax slides his hands under my bottom and lifts me, pulling me in front of him. My knees go on either side of his thighs and I’m spread wide. His pajama pants hide nothing, and I can feel how erect he is. I reach down and pull him free, rock hard in my hand.
“Jax,” I whisper, feeling heat rush down below. I need him terribly. No one can see through Vigilante windows. Colette probably put the wall up just for this.
I slide down between his knees and take him in my mouth. His pelvis rises up. I take in all I can, reveling in his hot flesh, slightly salty.
His hands grasp my head. I move, tentatively, out to the tip and down again. I want to do all the things with Jax. Everything there is to do. In cars. In hotels. In hayfields.
He lifts me up and jerks open the button to my black leather pants. In an instant, he has pushed them down. I kick off my boots so I can be free of the restraints of clothes.
He unzips the front of my jacket and slides it off my shoulders. The gray turtleneck blinds me for a moment as he lifts it past my face. Then the cool air hits my shoulders, and it’s away, tossed against the window.
I jerk the cardigan away from his arms and peel it down his back. For a moment, he’s caught in the sleeves, and I like it, planting a hot kiss on his mouth.
Then his arms are free and he’s unfastened my bra, dragging it off me.
He lifts me against him, his lips encircling a breast. His breath is like fire against the tender nipple. One of his hands reaches between my legs, pushing aside the panties as he presses a finger up inside me.
I moan, grinding against him. This has been the longest, most terrible day, but here we are, together, naked skin to naked skin.
His rhythmic strokes become more insistent, more powerful. I’m spiraling up, needing him, wanting to let go of my control. I want to be lost, just for a moment, and let Jax take over my body.
I lift my knee and push the leg of the panties down and over my ankle so I can rock against him freely. I feel his erection against my thigh and don’t want to wait for it, but slide down on it. Jax shifts his fingers to massage me as I take him all the way in. I’m on fire, wanting it fast and hot and hard.
Jax squeezes one hip while his hand continues its massage. I lift over him, then slam down, letting him rip through me.
I want to scream, but spare Colette of that and bury my face in his damp hair. Jax works me harder, holding me tight
, and lets me pound against him at my own pace.
I’m not going to have to wait for the release I need. Jax’s fingers dance along my tender swollen nub, and the fiery thrust of my body over his makes my muscles clench around him. I can’t keep quiet then, and cry out, the shudders of my climax starting to ripple out.
I hear Jax groan and feel the hot flow of him inside me. Reality splinters, as all I can feel is the powerful contractions of the orgasm and the tightness of his hand on my hip.
My hands grip his shoulders, the only tether I have as everything else is lost. Jax’s arms come around me, clasping me against his hard chest. I can’t quite stop, still lifting and dropping down, squeezing against every last rhythmic pulse. I don’t want it to end. I want to stay here, locked in this private space, the trees flying by, the world just a hurtling blur of color.
My Jax is back, strong arms pinning me to him. I can barely breathe, the world settling in again. My skin is damp and sizzles with his closeness.
“I’ve got you,” he says against my neck.
I can’t speak. I just hold on to him. Life is going to intrude very soon. For this moment, I just want to hang on.
15: Jax
Mia has just zipped up her jacket when Colette buzzes us from the front of the car. “Arriving in D.C. in about ten minutes. I’m going to do some evasive maneuvers to make sure we’re cloaked as we go into the belly of the whale.”
“You can bring down the screen,” I tell her. “Your virgin eyes are safe.”
“If you say so!” Colette says, but she buzzes the wall down, filling the car with additional light.
“Let me get your cuffs,” Mia says.
I extend an arm and let her fold back the sleeves and fasten them with onyx cufflinks.
It’s a small gesture, but I’ve never let any woman dress me in any fashion. So it speaks to me. We’re going to have to go in and do this thing. But I swear we’re retiring after we take down Sutherland and get this kill order off Colette and Sam.
The Vigilante's Lover #4 (Volume 4) Page 7