Page 72 of The Vigilante's Lover
Sam taps at the keys. “Still has the special status she had when you were with her. No records.”
Damn. “Look up anything else that might have been deleted the day Klaus was reported dead.”
Sam wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “Killer pastries here,” he says as he types. “Okay, so there is some deleted security footage in the head syndicate. A meeting. Klaus was in the room. Sutherland. And a special.”
“Jovana,” I say.
“I’d bet on it,” Sam says. “This is where they planned Klaus’s disappearance. The timeline is right.”
“Sutherland is in on it.”
“This is bad, dude.” Sam glances around at the corners of the room. “Glad this is an old outpost. We’d be dead already if we were monitored.”
“Can you trace a special even if she doesn’t have a name?”
“Sure, they still have IDs.” Sam’s voice is strained. “This is all we should do, Jax. Now that we know how high it goes, we have to kill this query.”
I nod. “Let’s just check that one thing.”
He taps, but his expression is grim. “Here we go. That special pops up in an altercation at an MMA fight in Vegas three months ago. Doesn’t say what. But I have the date and location. Apparently there was a bit of a tiff over compromised security. Footage went viral of a couple fighting.”
I lean in and note the information. “I have friends in Vegas still.”
“I remember those days,” Sam says. He powers the computers down. “We were always getting mixed up with the illegal MMA fights there.”
“Fun times,” I say.
We head back to the elevator. Sam watches the corners anxiously, and I know he’s thinking about the gas.
When we’re back out in the parking lot, he says, “You know I can’t do a damn thing now that we know this goes to the top.”
“I know it,” I say. “I need to be the only dead man walking.”
He claps me on the back. “Good luck, man.”
I stride back to the Vigilante car. Sam looks forlorn, like he’s never going to see me again.
He should know better. Nothing’s gotten to me yet.
11: Mia
The next morning I head out to Aunt Bea’s old shed for the axe. I sling it over my shoulder like a badass as I head back into the kitchen.
I’m going to get in that hatch, even if I have to destroy the floor.
More breadcrumbs are scattered across the counter. I should have thrown the food out. But at least if I keep the mouse fed, it will stay in this room and not explore the house.
I shudder and almost drop the axe.
Don’t think about the mouse, Mia.
Still, I leave the back door open wide as an invitation for the rodent to leave. It has to be lonely, like me, all locked up with nobody to talk to.
The hatch is exactly as I left it, shut tight. I spread my feet wide, trying to get a nice steady base to strike from. I don’t have a lot of space.
I raise the axe over my head and the sharp corner scrapes the ceiling, sending down a shower of plaster. I blink from the dust, resting the axe on my shoulder. Aunt Bea would kill me if she saw what I was doing to her house.
Although I guess it’s mine now.
