Page 9 of The Vigilante's Lover
I have zero future if the Vigilantes don’t back me on this, and they all know it.
Sam leans forward. “Jovana’s been off grid the whole year. Nobody can track her, not even the syndicate.”
“That’s impossible,” I say.
“She’s obviously got friends in high-tech places,” Sam says.
Colette reaches over to squeeze my arm. “We’ll help as we can,” she says. “All the letters are scanned and in the system.”
“Thanks,” I say. Colette does always remember every last detail.
“We’re approaching our rendezvous with our clones.” Colette touches a yellow button on the screen in the dash. “You can play the letters back here. Perhaps get more ideas.”
I doubt I will learn much more than I did in prison, with nothing else to do but study the strange rearrangement of my code in handwriting that does not match any of the styles Klaus adopted.
“I know what a risk you two took to get me out,” I say to Colette. “I won’t forget it.”
“We won’t let you forget it,” Sam says with a laugh.
Colette exits the freeway and approaches a small gas station. This Lexus is electric, but as we approach, a hybrid Mustang wheels out from behind the pumps.
“That’s our ride,” Sam says. “You’re letting me drive this one.”
Colette rolls her eyes. “I’ll try not to get bored.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. “Be safe, Jax. We’ll catch up with you again in three days.”
“Be careful out there,” Sam says. “There’s a blackout phone in the bag. It’s a rare bird. Don’t use it unless you have to.”
I nod. Colette and Sam walk away toward the Mustang. Two other people get out of the car and head into the station.
I open the passenger door slowly, breathing in the smell of gasoline and autumn. Leaves skitter across the broken pavement.
I walk around to the front of the car, fingers lightly grazing the smooth glossy surface of the hood. It is an excellent vehicle and well equipped. I am out of prison, and on my way to clearing up this little matter that made the Vigilantes overreact so abominably. Time to head to the Tennessee safe house and see who is impersonating Klaus, or holding him as some sort of hostage.
Whoever it is, they’d better be ready for me.
6: Mia
Another long empty night has arrived. I feel disjointed and unsettled. Maybe it’s the letters. Maybe it’s the change of seasons.
I wonder how Aunt Bea ended up here all her life, never married, alone in this rambling old house.
I have to be careful or it could happen to me.
I check both doors. Locked tight. Not that it matters. This small town has all the danger of a potted plant.
But for some reason Aunt Bea has enough deadbolts for Fort Knox. I run my fingers over the cold steel. It takes six different keys to open them all. Maybe the first thing to do now that she’s gone is to have all but one of them removed. I will be fearless, like my mother. I won’t stay locked away.
I head back to my small bedroom. There’s nothing to stop me from taking over my aunt’s larger one, but it doesn’t feel quite right. Not yet.
I flip on the light. My room is tidy with its smooth crocheted bedspread, small dresser, and wicker nightstand. A bit of high school memorabilia still hangs on a bulletin board. I was president of the chess club.
Yes, the dullest life ever.
Except…the letters. I have placed the older ones in a wooden box on my nightstand. I run my finger over the carvings on the lid of the box, wondering if I should read through them again. So unusual, talking about all that bondage and using nautical terms. So intriguing and sexy and strange.
I lay back on the bed, imagining in my mind the person who writes them. Jax De Luca.
Does he hunch over a metal desk scattered with paper and pens? I wonder if he has a book of knots that he refers to as he writes, or if, like me, he has knowledge of them from years of study.
