Page 167 of The Vigilante's Lover
“Are these not to your liking?” He paused, his hand on a bottle.
“Yes, but I think maybe I would like one with more color, darker hair.”
“Should I send these away?”
I looked over the women. They did not change in expression whatsoever. I hoped the network could find their homes. I hoped they were not so damaged already that even doing that would not help them.
“The one on the end. She is lovely but reminds me of my sister.”
Fredrick spoke quietly, and the door slid open again. A new woman walked in, sultry, dark haired, foreign.
“This is Jovana,” Fredrick said. “Is she what you were looking for?”
Jovana was unique from the moment she entered the room. Not as well behaved, I could see. Saucy. Sultry. Dangerous.
She headed to the sofa like a tigress. Her white skirt swished around her knees. Shantelle dutifully stood up and headed out the same door. It led to a hall, narrow and white, with additional doors. Perhaps their quarters. I tapped my watch, a code that would provide a rough layout to the Phase Threes plus the explosives team that was at the ready. That sector needed to be checked before the blow.
Jovana sat down, holding my gaze. I felt locked in, like I couldn’t look away. Why was she so different from the others?
Behind me, I could hear Fredrick popping a cork. I leaned forward. “I hope you trust me,” I said quietly.
The first two girls nodded faintly. Jovana, however, quirked hereyebrow as if in surprise.
Fredrick returned with a tray.
Each girl lifted a glass and took a sip, including Jovana. With Fredrick close and watching, she behaved in the same precise manner as the others.
But she wasn’t broken.
“Never mind this,” I said. “I’d like to take Jovana to the dungeon.” This girl I could reason with, get her out of the way when everything went down. Somehow the life hadn’t been trained out of her.
Her eyebrow went up again, but she said nothing.
“Very well,” Fredrick said. “Follow me.”
We headed out the second door, opposite the one where the girls came from. Fredrick unlocked the palm security and stood aside to let me through.
I paused in front of the panel. “Now this is fancy,” I said, and pressed my own hand to it. The panel flashed red, and I jerked away. “Sorry,” I said as the door slammed shut.
“It’s fine,” Fredrick said, and pressed his hand to it again. The door slid open again.
This time I walked through. He hadn’t noticed the small device now attached to it, reading the codes and preparing for when I blew all the security. Vigilantes didn’t fight fair. Almost all security technology used by civilians was originally created by manufacturers we controlled, to be easily circumvented when needed.
Unlike the stark white hall the girls came from, this one was covered in burgundy satin and trimmed with gold. On the right side were two doors. On the left, just one. The hall ended about fifty feet down. This was obviously a wing meant for visitors. Cameras recorded our movements.
There were no guards here, which made it a good place to start the action, if needed. I tapped out the information on my watch.
Fredrick palm-pressed the security on this door. It opened to revealan expansive room filled with all manner of dungeon play. The decor was deep blue, with padded benches, a leather sofa, and a tall four-poster bed. Along the wall were racks of implements, floggers, whips, handcuffs, and blindfolds.
Jovana was apparently trained to behave in a very specific way, as she immediately walked over to an upholstered platform and kneeled, head down, her hands clasped behind her back.
There were no other exits to this room, so it was useless to me. But I had to seem to be interested in this girl to access the offices. Presumably I would meet the man behind the operation, at least briefly, since we were performing such a costly transaction. I would demand it.
“Will you be remaining to supervise our interaction?” I asked Fredrick.
“I will leave you to your privacy,” he said.
“And how are the videos disposed of?” I waved a hand at the supposedly hidden cameras embedded in the elaborate pressed-tin ceiling.
