Page 23 of The Vigilante's Lover
“No, ma’am. Not without Jax’s say.”
Damn. I start to stand and realize I can’t even wipe. Good grief.
But with all the simple proficiency of a hospital nurse, Emma takes a handful of toilet paper, pats me dry, and flushes the toilet.
I close my eyes as she wriggles my panties back into place, trying to reconcile my current life with the one I was leading just a few hours ago. It doesn’t line up. All I can picture is my mother, her wild carefree expression. Be like her, I remind myself. Have courage.
When I open my eyes again, Emma is patiently waiting. “I think you will like our selections for you,” she says.
Clothes. Now that’s an improvement. I can feel the ropes chafing my skin along my ribs.
I follow her through the bedroom door. The other woman has spread several outfits on the bed. Jax is not in the room. We’re alone.
I decide to just go for it.
“I’ve been kidnapped,” I say quickly. “Please, call the police. My name is Mia Morrow.”
The women look at each other and back at me.
“We understand,” Emma says. “We will make sure the police are on their way.”
Then the two of them murmur together over which scarf to put with a navy blue pant set.
“Are you listening?” I say in a forced whisper. “Jax took me from my home! I live in Tennessee.”
They glance up, smile, and sort through a small box of underwear. Emma holds up a red thong and the other nods her approval.
Jax appears in the doorway, a drink in his hand. “Everything all right?” he asks.
“Just fine, Mr. De Luca,” Emma says. “Your lady was just telling us to call the police.”
I want to stomp my foot. Oh, those hussies!
He steps in the room. “Did she now?” He saunters up to me. “I might have to punish you for that. Shall I spank you?”
The women pinch their lips together to hide their smiles.
Oh, God.
Jax toys with the button of the jacket as if he might unfasten it. “I’ve missed seeing these,” he says, as if we were longtime lovers. “Shall I send the ladies away?”
“No!” I say quickly. “We were looking for outfits.”
He takes a sip of the drink. I can smell the liquor, lush and expensive. My eyes fix on the amber liquid surrounding perfect cubes of ice.
Jax holds it out. “Would you like a sip?”
“I don’t drink,” I say.
He nods approvingly. “I like my secretaries sober,” he says. “Except, maybe, for now.” He presses the cold glass against my lips. “Just a little taste.”
He tilts the glass, and I gulp to avoid the drink spilling down my chin. It’s pure fire going down, just a trace of something bitter, then a hint of something sweet.
I swallow, feeling it burn all the way to my belly, a warmth that quickly spreads through my body.
“What was that?” I ask.
He holds up the glass to the light. “An Old Fashioned,” he says. “Like me.”
