The Vigilante's Lover #4 (Volume 4)

by Annie Winters

“The skies are hot hot hot,” Colette says as we hop on the freeway toward downtown. She leans forward to peer out. “Three cloaked Vigilantes and at least a dozen fake news choppers.”

  “How do you spot a cloaked helicopter?” Mia asks. “I can see the ones with big channel numbers on the sides, but nothing else.”

  “You learn to spot the warping of the scene that indicates a visual cloak.” I point out the window. “See that black News 37 one? There’s a cloaked one at five o’clock from it.”

  Mia makes a circle in the air as if she’s drawing an invisible clock. “There’s a cloud with an unusual bend to it,” she says. “I think I see it.”

  I sit back. “Colette, do we have any sort of plan?”

  She glances over her shoulder. “Sam does. We’ll go over things when we get together.”

  “No time to fake your death or his, I guess,” I say.

  “Gawd, there is no telling who is really alive or dead at this rate,” Colette says. “I’ve never seen the network in this sort of chaos.”

  “That’s exactly the sort of thing you want to create if your intent is to take over,” I tell her. I reach for Mia’s hand. I haven’t forgotten that she doesn’t know who she is. I want her to have that information before we go in.

  “Did you leave the oval ring at the hotel?” I ask.

  She reaches down for a backpack at her feet. “No, I brought it.” She pulls out the blue nightie and searches along the bottom of the bag.

  I take the wisp of fabric. “I’m glad you rescued this.”

  She grins, a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks. “Here it is.” She holds out her palm. The oversized stone gleams black.

  I take it from her and slide it on her thumb. “We’ll have it resized for you,” I say.

  She holds up her hand to examine it. “Okay. Is it important?”

  I take her fingers in mine. “It belonged to the very first Vigilante. His name was Prescott Adams. This ring was given to him by President Eisenhower after World War II.”

  Mia turns her hand to look more closely at the ring. “Did you find out whose initials are inside?”

  “A woman’s. The Vigilantes were started by Eisenhower, a global enterprise in honor of his affection for a young woman who drove him around during the war when he was general.”

  “Did they have an affair?”

  “No one knows the sordid details, but everyone is certain they were very close.”

  “Is she KHS?”

  “Yes.”

  “How does this connect to me?” she asks. Her eyes shine, reflecting the changing landscape outside the window.

  “This ring is assigned to you. You are the last surviving member of Prescott Adams’s family. The last of the original Vigilantes.”

  She exhales long and slow. I realize I’ve gotten ahead of myself with my own plan. In the cemetery when I decided to escape all this, to live a simple life with Mia, I forgot something important.

  To ask her what she wants.

  She presses her fist to her chest. “So I can be a Vigilante if I want to?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t know why you were at the safe house. We don’t know what happened to your parents. I think you were being protected.”

  “How do I find out?”

  “A couple committee members would have private, personal knowledge of your history, as they would have voted on your designation as a special.”

  I let her absorb all this. Her chest rises and falls with each deep inhalation.

  “We’re about to rendezvous with Sam,” Colette says quietly. She understands the implications of what I’ve said as well.

  “Is this why I could go around the silo wherever I wanted?” Mia asks.

  “Probably.”

  “Does that mean I can get into this big meeting coming up with Sutherland?”

  I realize she has a very good point. “Quite possibly.”

  She lets go of me and leans forward, holding on to the back of the front seat. “It sounds like I have the keys to the kingdom,” she says to Colette. “Give me some weapons and let’s cause some damage.”

  Colette breaks out in a wide smile. “Sam’s already on it.”

  16: Mia

  A Vigilante.

  Me.

  I’m still trying to get used to the idea. I don’t like the oval ring on my thumb, so I start unraveling the hem of Jax’s discarded pajama pants until I have enough thread to wind through the ring and tighten up the hole.

  “Just like they used to do in the 1950s with high school rings,” Jax says.

  “Exactly,” I say. I slip the ring on my middle finger. It fits better now.

  We drive through the traffic-heavy streets of D.C. Colette has to remove the visibility cloak, or we’ll get run over by roaring taxis. We can only hope the other methods to hide us will hold.

  The city is thick with cars, and the air bustles with helicopters. Of all the places to meet, this one feels the most fraught. “There’s so much security,” I say to Jax. “How do we know who is friend or foe?”

  “Assume they are all the enemy,” Jax says. He sorts through Colette’s Vigilante stash of weapons and passes me a dart gun. “You good with this?”

  “Well, it’s not as hot as the blue one with bullets,” I say, teasing.

  Jax’s gaze drops to my lap, as if he’s picturing the metal barrel sliding between my legs. “We’re going to have to do that again,” he says.

  I curl my arm around his neck. “Mmmm-hmmm.”

  “Okay, lovebirds, Sam at two o’clock,” Colette says. “Look lively to see if anyone spots him.”

  “They’ll never get a heat signature in this snarl,” Jax says. He scans the perimeter of the car. “Give us a topside view,” he says.

  Colette presses a button and a panel slides open to reveal a roof window. “I’m cloaking it because this tech will give us away,” she says.

  “It’s just until he’s in,” Jax says. He keeps an eye on the helicopters above.

  Sam himself appears, taking jaunty steps in a crosswalk ahead with a stream of pedestrians. He lingers near the back of the group, falling behind. When he spots the BMW, he cuts around a taxi and jumps into the front of the car.

  “Nobody’s homing in,” Jax says. “Welcome back, Sam.”

  He turns in his seat. “Good to see you in one piece, sir.” He elbows Colette. “Don’t open that roof hatch or he might go jumping off the flyover.”

  “Hey, Sam,” I say.

  “Lookin’ good, Mia,” he says. “Let’s bail on this traffic.”

  “You got something I can use for navigation?” Colette asks. “We’ve been dark since West Virginia.” She buzzes the roof closed.

  “I made a stop by one of my hacker networks,” Sam says. “I have an off-grid hookup to the Identipad system, plus we can tap into all the V-cars in this jurisdiction who are Phase One to Four. Then we’ll know who’s around us.”

  “Young Vigilantes are heavily monitored,” Jax explains. “There’s a whole channel devoted to chatter about their progress.”

  “Easy hack,” Sam says.

  “That’s a decent start,” Colette says.

  “Yeah, the real danger is in the Phase Tens on the prowl,” Sam says. “They are going to be like silent ghosts.”

  “Any kill orders go out other than yours?” Jax asks.

  “Not in the U.S. syndicates,” Sam says. “We’re still part of the alleged cleanup from your indiscretion. But they are putting marks on the Vigilantes taking the fall for the murders overseas.”

  “How do we know those murders aren’t faked?” Colette asks. “They broadcasted Jax’s and his wasn’t real.”

  “We don’t know it,” Sam says. “Nobody can trust anybody for anything.”

  “Maybe I’m dead right now,” Colette says with a laugh. “I don’t even know who I work for anymore.”

  “Me,” Jax says authoritatively. “You work for me. And nobody’s going to die today. Real or imagined.”


  Sam shakes his head. “I hope so. I really do.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Colette says. We’re stopped again. “Sutherland recruits the foreign Phase Tens, has them do their dirty business in their homelands, and then uses this to fuel a network-wide panic so he can come in and fix it all?”

  “He’s already been granted access to five other networks,” Sam says.

  “Why is that a big deal?” I ask. I don’t understand why Sutherland is doing this or why anybody cares.

  “One of the beauties of the network has always been its syndicate autonomy,” Jax says. “We aren’t affiliated with any country or government. And each part of the network has its own rules, based on where they live.”

  “Things that won’t fly here might be the norm in Syria or with an African tribe,” Sam says. “And others are far more stringent. Most of them aren’t nearly as lenient about gunplay as the U.S. is.”

  “And that’s the way it should be,” Jax says. “There is no one-size-fits-all justice. And nobody needs to have all the information in one place. It isn’t necessary or wise.”

  Sam pulls a panel off Colette’s dash and cuts a couple wires. “Sutherland is gunning for a global network. And now it’s starting to look like a good idea, thanks to his own sabotage.”

  “Where is Carter?” Colette asks.

  “Picked up ten minutes ago,” Sam says. “Paulson too. They should have had a body ready to cremate. Easy to figure out Jax wasn’t disposed of. Sloppy, sloppy.”

  He twists a new set of wires in and the dash lights up. The map glows red.

  “Mon Dieu,” Colette says. “And that’s just the young ones?”

  “Half the network is in town,” Jax says. “That can’t be good.”

  “I hope Sutherland really is behind this,” Sam says. “If he’s not, then someone could take out a huge chunk of the U.S. operatives in one go.”

  Jax sits back, his finger passing over his lips as he gets lost in thought. “This is making me wonder if Sutherland chose Jovana, or if maybe she chose him.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “She was outraged when he wouldn’t call her back. She’s pretty much showing up without his permission.”

  Sam glances back at us. “Looks like you spent some quality time with her.” His gaze shifts to Jax. “In fact, you both look like bloody hell.”

  “We’re a little worse for wear,” Colette says. “You, however, don’t have a scratch on you.”

  “I’m too intellectual for all this brutality,” Sam says. He passes a dart gun back to Jax. “Note that this one is a new drug. No antidote. Wears off on its own but drops them in six seconds. Keeps them down for two hours.”

  I wonder if that’s what Jovana gave me, twice.

  “How many of these you got?” he asks.

  “Just the one gun. But it has three darts.”

  I hold the dart gun Jax gave me with both hands, extending my arms so I can find the sights to aim. Jax takes it and passes me the new one. It is lighter and more streamlined. I lift it to check the sights.

  Jax raises my elbows so I’m more level. “It has a laser sight.” He clicks a button and a red beam hits the window, indicating where the dart will land. “This isn’t an exploding bullet, so you have to aim for something fleshy,” he says.

  “Will it go through clothes?”

  “Any civilian body armor,” Sam says.

  “Do Vigilantes have body armor?” I ask. I line the sights up with the taxi sign on the car outside the window. I’m glad the passengers can’t see into our car, or they’d freak the heck out.

  “Sutherland will,” Jax says. “And the committee. With the other Vigilantes, it depends on whether they are fighters who would get slowed down by it. It doesn’t help you if you’re shot in the face or get a dart to the hand or neck.”

  Yuck. Gruesome. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I have to.

  “So who am I aiming for?” I ask. “Am I supposed to kill Sutherland?”

  “No!” comes a chorus from the car, everyone at once.

  “Okay!” I say. “Just checking.”

  “You’ve got her all fired up,” Colette says.

  “I can get us to HQ,” Sam says. “And I can make sure we’re not spotted.”

  “But,” Jax says.

  “But,” Sam continues, “I don’t have any clue how to stop this thing. Sutherland’s obviously had it in the works for a couple years.”

  “He’s choosing to initiate it right now, though,” Jax says. “Something about the conditions is in his favor.”

  “Honestly,” Sam says, “I think he had to move up his timeline because you busted out of jail. The longer you were a problem, the less credibility he had.”

  “Plus the vendetta,” I add. “Jax has got a killer case for revenge. He’s probably nervous that Jax is going to take him out.”

  But when I look over at Jax, he doesn’t seem eager for battle. Just resigned and resolute.

  17: Jax

  What am I missing?

  Colette continues to drive us toward the committee headquarters. Sam wires more off-grid tech into the car. Even Mia seems ready, pointing her dart gun at the windows and practicing a steady aim.

  But my mind whirs. Jovana was recruited almost two years ago. Had to be, since she was set up in that slave bunker by the time I met her. Sutherland, or someone close to him, had to have falsified her information on the network.

  After we blew up the sex slave operation, I didn’t think I’d see her again, but she showed up two days later, picked up by a Phase Three. She was blubbering about the “hero who had bought her.”

  I took her in.

  She behaved so believably, broken by her training, no longer saucy and spirited. That was the personality they had forced on her, she said.

  In jail, thinking this over, I knew they had reviewed recordings of our interactions and decided that she had taken the wrong tack with me. So they came up with a new approach. I had no illusions by then that she had ever cared about me, or that the relationship we forged from her alleged “recovery” was real.

  I just wanted revenge.

  I had no idea how big this was. What a small role Jovana was actually playing in the overarching plot.

  But why now? What is going on at HQ that Sutherland needs to stage this sort of grand-scale takeover?

  “All right,” Sam says, interrupting my thoughts. “Here’s the overall layout of the facility.” He brings up a map on the screen. “The committee members all have assigned entrances. Nobody comes in the same way.” He points at yellow boxes. “Sutherland’s offices are here.” He jabs at a green section.

  “The so-called War Room is over in this area.” It lights up red. “Six floors underground. Two entrances. Both will have scanners. None of us with kill orders are going to be eligible to pass through.” Sam glances back at us.

  “So you’re relying on me to get in?” Mia asks.

  “Not sure that even you can make it,” Sam says. “But at least the security won’t snuff you as soon as you hit the first scan.”

  “They have that sort of system?” Colette asks.

  “Hell yeah,” Sam says. “Darts on every entrance.”

  “We should carry antidotes with us,” Colette says.

  “Yes,” Sam says. “Although they may have their own cocktail.”

  “Great,” she mutters. “Two darts in a day.”

  Sam hands me one of his pass keys, the type I used on the Missouri silo and the civilian car. “These have been very useful,” I tell him.

  “It isn’t going to work anywhere important, but it will help you move around the building,” he says. “Just don’t expect it to stop any scanners or darts.”

  I nod. I tuck the clear strip into a pocket. “I’ve verified that the weapon sweeps don’t catch it.”

  Sam nods. “Good.”

  Both he and Colette look up as the HQ building looms ahead. It’s a nondescript office building for a financial se
rvices company. But only the lobby and a few fake offices continue the ruse. The upper floors are all administrative, development, and tech offices. Below is where all the real action is. Steel and concrete bunkers with the mother lode of security.

  Nobody gets out of there if the system itself doesn’t want it. It’s nominally monitored by humans, but the heart of the algorithm is determined by risk assessment and the information network that runs the U.S. syndicate.

  And this computer system isn’t going to care for us one bit.

  “So do we just park out front?” Colette asks.

  “Blend in with civilian traffic,” Sam says.

  We drive along the street and turn a corner to continue circling the building. “There’s a hotel,” I tell Colette. “Park in their garage. When we get out of this, we can meet back up here or get back together in two days in our usual spot.”

  “What’s the usual spot?” Mia asks.

  “You’ll be with me,” I tell her. “I’ll take you there.”

  “Should I know what it is?” Her voice is laced with panic.

  Sam turns around in his seat. “A doughnut shop in Portland, Oregon. Voodoo.” He lifts his case, which bears a sticker that says “I got VD in Portland.”

  Colette shakes her head. “I’d complain, but I love my Dirty Snowballs.”

  “Dirty Snowballs,” Sam says reverently.

  “Can we go kick some ass now?” Mia asks.

  I squeeze her hand. “Sam and Colette, you go in the entrance designated for Marie Augusta.” Sam looks at me. “She’s in a wheelchair, so that one has slightly reprogrammed security. Might be easier to circumvent.”

  “Where you are headed, boss?” Sam asks.

  “I have a hunch that when Mia goes in, something’s going to happen that will muddy the security network. Plus, I’m supposedly dead. I’m waltzing right in the front door with her.”

  Sam nods. “I’ll tap into the computer first shot I get. No telling when that will be. What’s the endgame?”

  “The War Room,” I say. “Let’s shake up the committee. Stop this thing.”

  “Or die trying,” Sam says.

  “Nobody’s dying today,” I remind him.