Page 157 of The Vigilante's Lover
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.”
