Page 8 of The Vigilante's Lover
“It’s been too quiet without you around,” adds Colette. Shedownshifts the car back into normal drive mode. “What’s your plan now?”
I watch the scenery whip by out the window for a second. “I need to get to Klaus. I think Jovana’s on to him.”
“Still the thing with that woman?” Colette’s voice holds a laugh.
I frown. “I killed an innocent man because of her.”
“Not so innocent,” Colette says.
“Neither of them,” I say. My stomach burns just thinking of Jovana. I loved that woman. Stupidly. Foolishly. To my doom. She used me to kill one of her rivals, a fellow Vigilante. That act landed me in prison. Only Sam, Colette, and Klaus know the truth. Jovana vanished after getting my hands dirty.
“I think she has Klaus,” I say.
“He was lying low, no?” says Colette. “How do you know he’s been compromised?” I sense the worry in her voice.
“His letters. They weren’t right,” I say.
“You and your bondage,” Colette says, shaking her head. “Klaus probably got his knickers in a knot just trying to keep it all straight.”
I glance back at Sam, who stares out the window, his dark face clouded with concern. “Klaus is a smart man,” he says. “He can manage a little code.”
“I agree,” I say. “We need to get to the Tennessee safe house.”
“We can’t go with you,” says Sam. “We’ve taken enough risk with the syndicate for one day.”
He’s right. They jeopardized their positions as Vigilantes for me.
“Then drop me off. I need to check on him.”
“Already planned for,” Colette says. She glances in the rearview mirror at Sam. “Get out of that suit, Sam. It’s probably got some sort of sensor.”
“Nah. It’s civilian,” Sam says, but still he strips off the guard uniform. As we pass over a river, he rolls down the window and lets it fly.
“Sam! Litterbug!” Colette is indignant.
“Toss the suit! Don’t litter!” Sam tries to sound mad, but the Louisiana lilt to his voice belies the humor.
I sit back in the seat, savoring the sights. One year in that hellhole. The only view was the straight-up look at the sky while out on the grounds. Now Chicago stretches out in all directions. Pubs. Restaurants. Long rows of houses fitted close together. The El.
“I’m taking you as far as the suburbs,” Colette says. “There we meet up with our clone IDs.”
“I was wondering how you went off grid,” I say.
Sam pulls a knit shirt down over his chest. “You’ve been in the clink, boss. Been a lot of tech upgrades in the syndicate while you were out of commission.” He taps a leather suitcase beside him on the backseat. “Inside here are all the tools we predicted you might need while you avoid the network. There’s an audio rundown on them for you to listen to on the drive.”
I nod appreciatively. Sam is the gadget man, even if he can be old school about it. He often chooses a hammer over a retina scan, but he always knows the latest Vigilante tech. His ability to circumvent it with no more than a loose wire and a pair of pliers has saved us more times than I can count.
Colette has always been our getaway girl. She can maneuver anything with wheels, wings, sails, or engine.
“This Lexus is stolen, and the identifier chip is attached to a jelly brick in the trunk to give it some mass,” Colette says. “I’d say you’ve got three days on this ID before he surfaces.”
I don’t ask about the status of the man whose identity I’ll be borrowing. When Colette says “surfaces,” it could mean anything, and it’s probably better I don’t know.
Sam points at the front dash. “I’ve set up a countdown on the ID.” A red display projects seventy hours onto the windshield.
“I think you should give up on the woman,” Colette says, a bitter edge to her voice.
I try to sound cool and impassive, not that it fools her. “The syndicate is going to come after me,” I say. “Jovana’s the only shot I have at clearing my name.”
