The Vigilante's Lover III

by Annie Winters

  I give Benny a polite smile and a firm but stilted handshake.

  “Benny, this is Jax, an old friend of my family,” says Colt.

  Benny’s eyes widen. “Whoa, quite the grip you have there, Jax.” He gives a nervous laugh as I release him. “You a fighter, too?” His eyes study me, sizing me up like a rancher appraising a horse.

  “Only for fitness,” I reply.

  “If you ever change your mind, look me up!” The hollow laugh returns. “I’m an agent as well as a promoter. I fight for your fights!”

  The man is insufferable.

  “Look, Benny,” says Colt, “we know you’re busy and don’t want to take up too much of your time. You know where Lukov is?”

  Benny’s stone-faced companion finally speaks up. “Fly is running late, but he’ll be here soon.” The man’s English is near perfect, but I detect the hint of an Eastern European accent.

  “Ah, my manners!” says Benny. “Gentlemen, this is Anatol Bronowski, Lukov’s handler.” Benny claps him on the shoulder. “Fly’s a real up-and-comer, eh, Bronowski?”

  “He does well, yes.” He talks out of the corner of his mouth, and between the suit and the hat and his scowl, it’s like we’re living inside a black-and-white film noir.

  We exchange simple handshakes with Anatol. I spare him the full force of my grip. I need to keep him friendly.

  “I look forward to meeting your fighter,” I tell Anatol. He looks me in the eye then, and I see I have his attention. Good. “Make sure to introduce us.”

  Colt excuses us and we extract ourselves from the two of them. When we are away and Benny has safely engaged with someone else, Colt lets out a sigh.

  “God, I hate that man,” he mutters. “I had hoped Lukov’s handler wasn’t stuck with him, but there you go.” He shrugs.

  “Colt,” I say, “I need you to separate them. I need to talk to Anatol alone.”

  Colt looks like I just asked him to hand in his man card.

  “I’ll do it,” says Parker before Colt says anything. “I still owe you for Vegas.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Parker, but thank you,” I say.

  Parker nods.

  “Now I owe you,” mutters Colt.

  Parker grins and claps his shoulder. “Yes, yes, you do. Go get me a beer as part of your penance.” And then he’s gone, pushing his way back toward Benny and Anatol.

  “But that means I’ll have to bring it to him,” says Colt. He shakes his head. “That sneaky bastard.”

  We head to the bar and fight our way to the front.

  A cute girl behind the bar eyes Colt. She leans forward so her cleavage spills over the top of her artfully torn UFC T-shirt. “What can I getcha, fighter boy?”

  “Whatever you’ve got that isn’t pisswater,” he says.

  “You really are off the mat, if you’re drinking beer,” I say.

  Colt shrugs. “We mostly hold them for show. Part of the gig.”

  “How about you, darling?” the girl asks me.

  I glance at their liquor selection. I’m tempted to skip the whole thing based on the labels, but like Colt says, it’s part of the show. “Mix me an Old Fashioned,” I say.

  She winks at me. “Classy.”

  We look over the crowd as she works. The room is getting packed. I’ll definitely want a quieter space for what I’m here for.

  “What’s the plan, boss?” Colt asks.

  “To keep you guys out of it.”

  The girl sets the drinks on the bar. “Hope you two will stick close by,” she says. “I could use the company.”

  “We’ll try to come back around,” Colt says kindly and picks up his beers.

  I take a sip of mine and grimace at the taste of cheap alcohol mixed in poor ratios. The downside of an open bar and a bartender who may not have been hired for her skills.

  We mingle for a few minutes, chatting up other guests while keeping an eye on Parker, Benny, and Anatol. At one point Parker catches our eye and shoots Colt a pointed look at the extra beer.

  “I guess I can’t put this off any longer,” Colt sighs. “Be quick, I don’t know how long we can keep Benny occupied before either of us punches him.”

  Colt heads off like a dead man walking. I circle through the crowd, placing myself near Anatol without catching Benny’s eye. A woman with bottle-blond hair and poured into a sparkling black dress tries to engage me in conversation. From her speech and mannerisms, she’s obviously a small-town girl. Like Mia.

  Mia. God, they better not get to her. I’ll kill them.

  The girl pushes on my arm. “So what do you say?”

  Hell, I haven’t been listening. Mia on the brain.

  And elsewhere, I think, feeling that familiar tug in my groin.

  The girl finally gives up, rolling her eyes and walking off. I turn just in time to see Colt and Parker leading Benny away from Anatol.

  “Mr. Bronowski!” I call before someone else distracts him. “Anatol!”

  Anatol turns to me and his face relaxes with recognition. “Ah, the newcomer. Get separated from your friends?”

  “I didn’t want to intrude on their conversation with Benny,” I reply. “Besides, I was hoping to talk with you.”

  “Yes, I recall, Mr.… I didn’t catch your last name.”

  “De Luca,” I say. “Jax De Luca. How is Lukov doing?”

  “His win-loss record speaks for itself,” he says.

  I guide him to a quieter corner of the room. I pepper him with quick questions, playing up the fan angle while moving the conversation away from Lukov and toward his entourage.

  “He has a sister, doesn’t he?” I finally ask.

  “Jovana? Yes, sweet girl. Very devoted to Fly,” he replies.

  I hide my bristling at the description of Jovana as “sweet.” Mia is sweet. Jovana is anything but. “So she’s here?”

  “Oh, yes! But it’s hard for her now. That boyfriend of hers is very controlling.” He scowls.

  Klaus and Jovana. My lack of jealousy pleases me, but I don’t for a second believe that Jovana has any feelings for Klaus. It would explain his turncoat actions, however.

  Maybe Klaus is using her, too. Could he be working the double-agent angle? The bombs at the safe house were clearly designed to maim and kill, but Klaus would have known I could figure out that knot. And thus survive.

  I need to talk to him, alone. I have to be sure.

  “Will they be with Fly when he arrives?” I ask.

  “Yes, probably. Why?”

  “Colt and Parker would love to meet with Fly,” I say. “Probably really help his publicity along.”

  Anatol’s interest in having his boy meet fighters at the level of Gunner and Power Play is clear on his face.

  So I dash his hopes with an additional contingency. “But I’m worried about that boyfriend being along when they meet him.”

  “Oh?” he asks. “Why is that?”

  “If he’s disrespectful to Fly’s sister… Jovana, was it? I worry that Colt and Parker might do something, well, rash.” I nod as understanding dawns in Anatol’s eyes. “They don’t take kindly to such men.”

  “Ah, I see. Maybe I could get Benny to speak with the man.”

  “I was thinking you could just shuffle Fly and Jovana off to a private room. Leave the boyfriend out here. He could mingle while the boys meet Fly and his sister.”

  Anatol laughs, a hearty rapid-fire chuckle. “You do not know this man. He does not mingle. And I do not know if this boyfriend would agree to let Jovana be with strange men.”

  “Who cares what he thinks? You represent Lukov, and he wants to meet Colt and Parker, right?”

  Anatol nods. “Yes, but—”

  “And I bet Jovana, being a fan of fighters too, would want to meet them. That would make Fly happy, right?”

  “Well, yes—”

  “Then it’s settled!” I smile and grip his upper arm. “You said he was controlling. Don’t you want to tweak his nose a bit?”
>
  Anatol opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks at me, and a dark smile slowly forms.

  “You are right, Mr. De Luca. It is time that idiota learns he cannot dictate what she does.” He laughs again. “You go find your friends, and I will go find my boy.” He points to a small hall off to one side. “Down there is a private lounge, find us there.”

  “And the boyfriend?”

  “You don’t worry about him. Here, I am the boss.” He narrows his eyes then weaves through the crowd to the exit.

  I maneuver through the throng back to Colt and Parker. Benny is nowhere in sight. Colt smiles at my approach.

  “Mission accomplished?” he asks.

  I nod. “Anatol has arranged a private meeting with the two of you, Lukov, and his sister.”

  “What about her dude?” Colt says.

  “Leave him to me. But don’t mention me to the sister.”

  Parker looks like he’s about to ask why, but Colt gives a knowing nod. “You got it, Jax.”

  We move to one side, where a mirrored back wall provides a view of the entrance. After a few minutes of nursing drinks and jostling against the crowd, I spot Anatol enter the room, drink in hand. Lukov is right on his heels. A few steps behind the slender fighter walks a dark-haired woman.

  Jovana.

  Waves of emotion slam together in my head. It takes all my willpower not to rush over and strangle her right then. I have to resist a personal revenge. She is but one piece of this puzzle now.

  I almost miss Klaus through the haze of rage clouding my vision. He looks different. Haunted. In the mirror I watch his eyes scan the room, and I put Colt between us before he looks our way.

  I nudge Colt. “Don’t turn around,” I say, “but they’re here. Let them get to the back room, then make your way over there.”

  Colt’s eyes flick to the mirror. “How much time do you need?” he asks.

  “I’ll find you.”

  He nods.

  In the mirror, I watch the group move through the crowd toward the back hall. Suddenly Anatol spins around and bumps into Klaus, spilling his drink down Klaus’s suit coat. Klaus jumps back and curses while Anatol grabs a napkin and fusses with Klaus’s coat, dabbing and wiping. Klaus pushes him away. I can see the disgust in his eyes as he looks around.

  Like any good Vigilante, he suspects a trick. But Anatol’s drink was thick and fruity, and he made one glorious mess of Klaus’s suit. I watch Jovana intercede and speak with him, then she gestures back to the exit.

  Klaus finally throws up his hands and stalks out of the room. Anatol looks very pleased with himself as he hustles Lukov and Jovana to the hall. They quickly disappear down it.

  “C’mon, Power Play,” says Colt. “Let’s go meet some fans.”

  I wend my way to the exit. Klaus will be heading to a lavatory to clean up, and the closest one is just down the hall from the party room. I pause at the door and listen. No telling how many people are inside.

  I push open the door. The sound of water gushing into a basin echoes against the tile. Cautiously, I peek around the corner and an arm flies at my face. My own arm instinctively meets it in a block. A hand grabs at my own, but I twist away and jump back to measure up my assailant.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Jax,” says Klaus. “Did you honestly think I didn’t see you in there?”

  “Must have been after Anatol gave you a daiquiri bath,” I say. “It certainly wasn’t before.”

  Klaus’s eyes are dark with anger. His lean body is taut with tension. The faint odor of stale cigarette smoke clings to him. His coat lies piled on the counter, one sleeve under the faucet to trick the sensor and keep the water running.

  “You should have stayed put, Jax,” he says.

  “And let you and Jovana have all the fun? Not a chance.”

  Klaus rocks from one foot to the other. He knows he can’t take me in a straight fight. He’s looking for an opening, or stalling for time until someone comes in. Maybe Jovana.

  Fine by me. Two birds, one stone.

  Klaus feints left, but I step right and intercept his true action. He curses and tries to hook my leg. I step aside and let his momentum help me throw him into a bathroom stall door. The impact echoes in the small space.

  He comes at me again. I block his blow, then grunt in surprise as he lands a sharp kidney shot. How did I miss that? I twist and block his kick to my ribs, but in turn accept a weaker blow to my shoulder. I spin away to reassess my footing on the slick tile. My shoes are not the best for impromptu martial arts.

  The edges of my vision seem fuzzy. I inhale deeply and the uptick in my heartbeat alarms me. This skirmish should barely wind me. I know my capabilities.

  Something is wrong.

  12: Mia

  The gun rests in my lap, blue and cold.

  I’m terrified of it.

  The car rumbles lightly at my feet. I wish it were electric and silent instead of gas powered. I want to disappear. If anyone notices me, comes after me, then I have to use the gun.

  My breathing speeds up just looking at it.

  I think about what Jax said. There’s no antidote to a bullet.

  Why didn’t he just give me a dart shooter?

  I’m going to find one myself.

  I turn around and reach for his knapsack.

  The inside of the car is dark and I don’t dare turn on the light. I hold up the bag so the lamps in the parking lot will shine on it.

  There are a lot of things inside. I reach my hand in. Out comes one of those wands they seem to use a lot. They detect stuff, but I have no idea how to use one.

  I reach for something else.

  The dart binoculars. Now I DO know how to use those. I wonder what the range is. It might not be good. And the tiny dart might not do much. That might be why Jax didn’t give it to me. It’s probably hard to aim.

  Gah. I need training. I’m going to make him teach me.

  I feel around in the bag and my hand closes over something small and cold. I pull it out.

  The onyx ring. How interesting that he brought it. I slip it on my thumb. I wonder how it ended up in my aunt’s pantry stash, and why Jax found it important enough to carry with him.

  It spins on my finger. I don’t want to lose it, so I take it off and put it back inside the bag.

  That’s it. All he brought.

  Gun it is, I guess. When I turn to put the knapsack back, my knee bumps against the steering wheel base.

  “Engine off,” the dash voice says.

  What?

  The car rumbles to a stop.

  Shoot. I set the gun on the passenger seat and look at the controls. I can’t read anything, plus the screen is off.

  “Car?” I ask.

  Nothing.

  “Wake up?”

  Still nothing.

  I poke on anything I can see. Buttons, screen, the big round control in the center.

  The car stays off.

  Shoot. How do keyless cars turn on? I bumped something. It can’t be easy to turn the car off while it’s running. It must be a feature of when it’s parked. I feel along the steering column. I find several buttons and press them all.

  Nothing.

  Great.

  I lift myself up off the seat and then sit down again.

  Nope.

  Maybe I have to get out of the car and get back in.

  I pull on the handle.

  Locked.

  Whoa. What?

  I jerk on it harder.

  It doesn’t open.

  I put the gun on the floor and crawl over to the passenger seat. That door is locked tight too. I try the windows. They don’t roll down.

  I’m locked in.

  And the car is off.

  I breathe so hard and fast that I fog up the window on my side. I wipe it with my fist. What if Jax comes out? What if he’s running?

  I can see more buttons low on the dash, so I push them. Everything is dead except the slow blinking red light indicating a car a
larm. I keep thinking if I hit the window hard enough, that will set off the alarm, but then what would that do? It’s not like that would unlock it.

  I want to scream with frustration. My head feels like it’s going to explode. I’m incompetent!

  As the minutes pass, I force myself to calm down. I’m behaving like a civilian. Like I’m helpless.

  I’m not. I’m getting out of here.

  I start looking around the interior of the car. There has to be something in here I can use to escape. Think, Mia!

  I crawl over the console to look out the driver-side window. I can’t see below it, but I spot a faint reflection of a glow. That cellophane thingy. That’s what has this car on lockdown. Jax probably didn’t realize he was locking me in. Of course, he probably didn’t anticipate my foolishly turning the car off.

  I close my eyes, remembering all the times Jax used that special key. He blew that lid off the silo hatch with it. So it has some explosive power. And he broke into this car. There weren’t any keys. It runs off a code. So it can descramble those kinds of locks.

  I can’t reach it with the window up, so it’s useless to me. I need a way out from the inside.

  I struggle to think of a way. I could break a window, I guess. But the alarm would surely go off and attract attention.

  I glance at the gun. Then I might have to use it.

  Think, Mia, think.

  Don’t fancy cars have a valet mode? Maybe that could circumvent that code descrambler. Do something manual to pop the door.

  I feel under the dash well below the steering wheel. I find a button and press it.

  A faint click outside the car tells me I just opened the cover of the gas tank. Not helpful.

  I find another one, and the hood pops up an inch. Great, I’m booby-trapping the car if we need a quick getaway. I’ll fix it once I’m out.

  The next one makes the hazard lights start blinking. I quickly shut them back off.

  Then I find another small lever. I pull it.

  The car chimes. The electronics come on for a second. My heart hammers like mad.

  A female voice says, “Valet mode initiated.”

  I tentatively tug on the door handle.

  It opens!

  I step out onto the asphalt. I did it! I got out! On my own! I dance in a little circle. Go, Mia. Go, Mia.