The Vigilante's Lover: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (The Vigilantes Book 1)

by Annie Winters

  Moments pass, and still, nothing. My thighs grow weary of clenching together. Is he not going to do anything?

  Now I’m not sure what I feel. Disappointment? Surely not. But something eases. The terror drops a notch.

  Carefully, slowly, I open one eye.

  Jax is watching me with amusement. “That’s all you’ve got?” he says. “Clenching in fear? Surely you’ve finished at least Phase One training if you’re in a safe house.”

  I don’t know what he means. My thigh muscle cramps, and I’m forced to let my loose leg down. The other one is still tied to the bedpost.

  “I mean, that was a very convincing scream,” he goes on. “But I had expected something more…titillating.”

  Anger blossoms in me. What the hell does he want from me? Some grand seduction?

  “I’m not exactly in a position to manhandle you.” I wiggle my fingers in the bonds.

  He laughs again, less forcefully this time. It’s actually sort of…charming.

  “So you write about bondage but you can’t escape it?”

  I finally get the courage to glance down at my body. My thighs peek through a tangle of white strips. My panties are in full view. The nightgown is more fitting of a prostitute now. My face flames with embarrassment. I cross one leg over the other again. I don’t care how much they cramp.

  “You were right about the gown,” Jax says. “Can’t spread very wide in that awkward thing.” The one-line letter lies between us like an accusation. “I fixed it for you.”

  His gaze travels the length of my body, pausing on my breasts, which are fat and round inside the crisscross of the rope binding. Thankfully the white gown is thick and hides how my nipples pucker up as he looks at me. A rush of heat blasts through my body. Despite what is happening, I feel a tingle, like parts of me are waking up for the first time.

  Something beeps in the corner of the room. We both turn.

  Jax walks over to the lampshade on my dresser and pulls a small oval-shaped device from inside.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  He stares at it. “Well, this safe house is compromised,” he says darkly. “Good thing I already pilfered the stockpile.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You deny it to the end.” He shakes his head as he reaches for the slipknot at my wrist and expertly unwinds it from the bedpost. My arm drops to the bed. I can’t even move it, so little blood is flowing.

  “Are you letting me go?” I ask as he reaches across me for the other arm. He smells expensive, like fine clothes and luxury cars. I stifle the urge to inhale deeply.

  “Oh, no. You’re coming with me.” He unties my ankle.

  As soon as my leg is free, I snap my knees together. He tilts his head. “A little late for modesty,” he says.

  I kick at the sheets and pile them around me, creating a shield.

  Jax laughs. “If I know your type, we’re going to be carnally acquainted very soon.” He leans over and holds my chin tight in his grip. “I am happy to take advantage of whatever skills you want to test on me, but don’t think your wiles are going to get you anywhere.”

  His face moves in super close, just inches from mine. I can’t breathe, his lips are so near. If I leaned forward, I could kiss him, feel the stubble of his cheek. I want to. I don’t care what he’s done, breaking into my house, tying me up. I want that kiss.

  I’m losing my mind. He’s a stranger. A convicted felon. I can’t want this. I can’t want him.

  He pulls away and jerks at the ties still encircling my wrists. He tugs my hands behind my back, locking them down with the binding on my waist. The rope makes a sizzling sound as he pulls it through, and I shiver. I should not be feeling so attracted to this man. I try to summon my fear and anger, but I’m still on fire from his closeness, and how what he’s doing matches his letters.

  “Can you stand?” he asks.

  I scoot to the edge of the bed and manage to get on my feet. The tattered gown falls around my legs.

  “Almost perfect,” Jax says. He reaches for the collar of my gown. “But let’s not forget exactly who and what you are.” He rips the lace neckline, pulling it wide until the cleavage created by the ropes threatens to spill out.

  “That’s more like the vixen I expect,” he says.

  I can’t be insulted. He’s right. I wrote him those sexy things. I told him this is what I wanted. He’s only doing what I asked him to. I had begged to be tied up, treated like a whore. And taken roughly, passionately, until I screamed.

  Good God. Was that next?

  For a moment his fingers slide along my collarbone, then down to the hollow between my breasts. I can barely breathe, suspended between terror and wild attraction. He could have done anything to me, yet he hasn’t. I don’t know what to think of him. Gentleman or rogue? Killer or hero?

  The beeps from his device come faster.

  “Time to fly,” he says. He slides the end of the rope through the binding in front and leads me out of my bedroom like I’m a slave. I don’t even have a chance to look back. Whatever future I imagined when I went to bed last night is long gone.

  For now, at least, it seems I belong to Jax.

  9: Jax

  I drag this Mia person through the house. I’ve already been through most of it. Aside from the emergency stockpile that looks fairly untouched, hidden beneath the floor of the kitchen pantry, the house contains nothing tying it to the Vigilantes.

  The detector in her bedroom is old, decades old. Still, it tells me the safe house is being monitored. This woman has to know it was there.

  Unfortunately, the house holds no clues regarding the possible whereabouts of Klaus. Where could he have gone? Did he skip out with Jovana on his heels? Did she catch him and leave this tartlet behind to trap me? My anger flares again at the thought. Jovana must think me stupid to fall for such a ploy. Again.

  I jerk the rope and Mia protests with a startled “Hey!”

  “Dragging you is just as easy. Less comfortable for you, though. I suggest you keep up.”

  She glares at me, the innocent vixen act gone. This girl has some toughness in her. I’m going to enjoy learning every facet of her training and personality. But I will get the facts from her, one way or another.

  We cross the living room and I realize that Klaus must still be free, but Jovana obviously knew he was here at one point. She must have left Mia behind to keep watch.

  The records say Powers left six months ago. Shortly before my first letter to Klaus. I puzzle the timeline together in my head. Powers leaves, my letter arrives, Mia intercepts it and responds as Klaus. A trap to extract information from me, either through the letters or in person.

  Clever, Jovana. But you’re slipping. Your lackey temptress needs work.

  I pause by the back door and peer out the small window. No movement.

  I look back at Mia. Her wide green eyes stare back. I wrap the rope around my fist and pop my knife from its wrist sheath. To her credit, she doesn’t flinch as I slice off one of the tattered scraps from her nightgown.

  “Turn around,” I order. She complies and I catch a glimpse of her thighs as the strips of cloth sway with her movement.

  Focus, Jax.

  “Hold still.” I knot the center of the strip and gag her with it, tying the cloth around her head. It’s tight enough that she can’t work it free, but loose enough not to cut into her cheeks. She may be wearing it a while. I can’t have her alerting her allies to our departure.

  “We’re going to take a little walk now. We can’t slow down. I was not kidding about dragging you if I need to. Nod if you understand.”

  Mia nods and a tremble passes through her. Well played. I almost feel sorry for her.

  Almost.

  Back at the door, I strap on a night-vision monocle. Too bad I don’t have a tracer. The car is across the field, a long way to walk in the open. Plenty of opportunity for anyone to spot us.

  No time to worry about that now.
<
br />   Mia mumbles something and gestures with her bare foot at a pair of Crocs by the door. My first thought is to make her walk barefoot, but the rocks and sticks in the field may cut her feet. That would both slow us down and leave a trail of DNA blood evidence.

  I nod, and she slips the shoes on. Then we’re out on the porch.

  We double-time it across the dark yard and into a field. I force us to stay low as I scan the area with my night-vision eye. Nothing moves but I do not trust my limited senses.

  The warning beeps from the security device in the house could have meant anything. Someone close. Someone there. Or someone just watching. It was an old model. Klaus should have updated it. Unless he couldn’t.

  I pull Mia along as fast as I dare. The unstable dirt shifts beneath my feet and forces me to slow more than I would like.

  Mia stumbles several times and falls to her knees once, but I pull her back up and move her along. Her breath comes in rasps through the gag by the time we reach the tree line on the far side of the field. The car sits a short distance down a dirt road, and a quick tap on my watch unlocks the doors. I push her into the rear seat and secure her with the extra length of rope through metal hooks along the seat back.

  Only once we are both inside the car do I reach around and pull off the gag. Mia coughs and works her jaw.

  “You didn’t have to gag me,” she says with a trace of indignation. “I would have been quiet.”

  “Of course you would,” I say.

  I maneuver the car down the dirt road, relying on the night vision to guide me. When we turn onto the paved road, I increase in speed and drive without headlights for several miles. The way is quiet and we pass no cars. Satisfied we are safely away, I toss the monocle onto the passenger seat, hit the lights, and drive more reasonably.

  “So where are we going?” Mia asks. Her voice is less timid now. She must be dropping the victim act.

  It’s a good question, but I ignore it. I am beginning to doubt Klaus saw any of my letters, or only the first one at best. Everything I gleaned from the responses was wrong. This girl didn’t understand the code and bungled the job. I can’t shake the nagging feeling that Klaus is in serious trouble.

  Sam and Colette got no word from him. He has become a ghost, off the grid and hiding. My meager resources at hand may do me no good in tracking him down. I need more power at my fingertips.

  And for that I will need the Vigilantes. A trip into the lion’s den. Where is the closest silo?

  I tap my watch and bark a command. A faint translucent map of the area appears on the windshield display.

  “Identify closest silo to current position.” The map zooms out and a circle appears fifty miles away, spinning lazily. Too close. I need more distance between myself and the compromised safe house.

  “Next result.” The map zooms out farther, a second circle appearing to the west in Missouri. Perfect.

  “We’re going to St. Louis,” I tell Mia.

  “What’s in St. Louis? Klaus?”

  I let a chuckle slip out. “Only if I’m lucky.”

  “What’s a silo?”

  “A place to store grain.” Two can play dumb. “You’re a country girl, you know that.”

  “But that’s not the kind of silo you’re looking for, is it?” she says. “Because I could show you one, if that’s what you want.”

  “I want the truth, Mia. Who are you working for? Where is Klaus?”

  Her voice rises a notch in anger. “I don’t work for anyone. You’re too numb skulled to realize I have nothing to do with this.”

  I glance at her in the rearview mirror. Her hair is scattered across the seat. Her chest is heaving, provocative in the slashed white gown and red rope.

  “Who taught you knots?” I ask.

  She hesitates, then says, “My parents.”

  “Names?” She gives me two. I put the car on assisted drive and pull out the Identipad. Both her parents come up. Deceased, but like Mia they have no records. Three members of a family, all wiped.

  There is a lot more to this girl than meets the eye. The Vigilantes are protecting her identity from one of their own.

  I turn around in the seat and stare at her. She shrinks into the leather under my gaze. My eyes shift to her legs, now tightly pressed together. Her pale skin glows in the dim light, the scraps of her nightgown doing little to hide her.

  She sees my gaze and adjusts her body to rearrange the strips in a futile attempt at modesty. So now we’re back to innocence. I don’t get her. Her actions don’t match up with any training protocol I know.

  “Who are you, Mia Morrow?” I ask, irritated. “Who are you, really? You have no records. Your parents have no records. Your so-called aunt has no records. The only people who are as blank as you are a special brand of Vigilantes. But you are too young for that treatment.”

  “I don’t understand. Records? Vigilantes?”

  My anger flares again. This little game is getting old.

  “Cut the act,” I snap. “I’m not falling for it. You have some natural skill, I will give you that, but your training failed to prepare you for the real thing. Life will be easier for you if you just tell me what I need to know.”

  This gets her.

  “I don’t know what you want!” she cries. She tries to sit up as straight as the rope binding allows. “I’m Mia, just Mia!” Her words come in little stumbling bursts.

  We pass a lonely farmhouse and she watches it pass. This seems to break her, as now her voice is full of tears. “I’m not some spy! I don’t know who Klaus is or where he is. I don’t know who you are, or what you’re doing, or that I was writing coded letters, or…”

  Her voice fades out. The torn nightgown slips off one shoulder and comes dangerously close to uncovering her breast. I let my gaze linger on her smooth, slight collarbone for a moment. I feel a wave of desire pulse through me.

  Manipulated. Not real. Don’t fall for it.

  I turn my attention back to the road and take over driving. We ride in silence as the minutes and the miles tick by. I hear her take in a deep breath, like she’s steadying herself.

  “You said Klaus was your partner,” she finally says, her voice soft and subdued.

  “Yes.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  Another snide remark rests on my tongue but I bite it back. “Over a year ago. The night we were betrayed.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I went to prison.”

  “No, I mean what happened when you were betrayed?”

  “That’s not relevant right now.”

  “How do you know Klaus is alive, then?”

  “He left a message for me in the house,” I lie. I don’t know that he is alive, not really. But Mia’s letters and her presence tell me he is.

  “How? My aunt lived there for years! Did he know my aunt?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I…” Mia gives a little grunt of frustration. “Well, what does the note say? Didn’t he give you some clue where to go?”

  “No, he…”

  I stop myself. Stupid, Jax. She almost caught you in your lie. Alarm shoots through me like ice water in my veins. Why is she asking these questions? Nothing I say could help her right now. Unless it’s for someone else’s benefit.

  Of course. It all makes sense. The ease of capturing her and our escape. Her helpless ploy. Her questions and dodges. She wants me to talk so someone else can hear.

  I slam on the brakes and pull to the side of the road. Mia gives a yelp as the car jerks and bounces through rows of a grain field. I pull to a stop behind a large tractor.

  I jump out and yank her door open. Fury at myself and Jovana burns in my chest as I jerk the rope from the seat ties.

  “Get out,” I say, my voice cold and harsh.

  Mia scrambles out the door as best she can, the ropes limiting her movement. I grab the back of the bindings and pull her tight against me. Her skin is hot against my fingers.

>   “You’re wired,” I hiss in her ear.

  “What?” she cries. “What are you—”

  I turn my fist and the ropes tighten. The silk cords press into her soft skin and Mia gasps.

  “I suggest you be very quiet, unless you want the gag again. Nod if you understand.”

  Mia nods several times in quick succession. I release my grip and turn her around. I flick my wrist to snap the dagger from its sheath into my hand. I hold it between us.

  “Now,” I say. “You’ve got a transmitter on you somewhere, and I’m going to find it. I recommend standing very, very still.”

  10: Mia

  I do what he says and stand completely still. The night is chilly, though, and I’m not wearing much. I try to suppress my shivers.

  Little ripping sounds signal the cotton getting sliced through. Fresh air hits more skin.

  He’s cutting my gown away.

  We’re in the middle of nowhere. He’s gone off the highway. There’s nothing for miles except empty fields, the occasional parked plow just a shadow in the moonlight.

  He could rape me. Kill me. Do anything.

  But I’m oddly calm. I think of my mother, her strong smile. Nothing got to her.

  What would she do?

  Laugh at him. She would show no fear.

  He tugs at the strips of my nightgown, pulling them through the ropes that still crisscross my body. He works swiftly, carefully, and the cotton slides across my skin like a caress.

  I look down, fascinated, as he tugs it away, revealing my body in the bluish light. White fabric litters the ground at my feet.

  He examines each piece, frowning. His face is drawn tight in concentration as he squeezes every white strip. He looks at each button as he pops it from what once was the front of the gown.

  The last section covering my chest pulls away with his sharp tug. I might as well be a mannequin for all Jax notices as my breasts are revealed in the moonlight. I stare at myself, my bare body in the red ropes. I shiver with something more than the cold. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more alive than I do at this moment. The tears and the fright just drop away, like the pieces of my silly frumpy nightgown.