“Just fine, Mr. De Luca,” Emma says. “Your lady was just telling us to call the police.”
I want to stomp my foot. Oh, those hussies!
He steps in the room. “Did she now?” He saunters up to me. “I might have to punish you for that. Shall I spank you?”
The women pinch their lips together to hide their smiles.
Oh, God.
Jax toys with the button of the jacket as if he might unfasten it. “I’ve missed seeing these,” he says, as if we were longtime lovers. “Shall I send the ladies away?”
“No!” I say quickly. “We were looking for outfits.”
He takes a sip of the drink. I can smell the liquor, lush and expensive. My eyes fix on the amber liquid surrounding perfect cubes of ice.
Jax holds it out. “Would you like a sip?”
“I don’t drink,” I say.
He nods approvingly. “I like my secretaries sober,” he says. “Except, maybe, for now.” He presses the cold glass against my lips. “Just a little taste.”
He tilts the glass, and I gulp to avoid the drink spilling down my chin. It’s pure fire going down, just a trace of something bitter, then a hint of something sweet.
I swallow, feeling it burn all the way to my belly, a warmth that quickly spreads through my body.
“What was that?” I ask.
He holds up the glass to the light. “An Old Fashioned,” he says. “Like me.”
“Hardly,” I say. I shift my arm to wipe my lips, forgetting my hands are tied.
Jax notices and lifts his thumb to my mouth. “You missed some,” he says huskily. He brushes a finger across my lips, then brings it to his tongue. “You taste delicious.”
My heart beats ninety to nothing. I’m torn between the old Mia, full of panic and fear, and my mother’s Mia, courageous and strong. Will this man hurt me? Or will he take me to some new amazing place?
I already regret trying to have the women call the police. I want him. It’s hard to accept. But I do.
“I’d like to see her in one of your outfits,” he says to Emma. “You may untie her.”
Before I can say anything, Emma unbuttons Jax’s jacket and pulls it away. My breath catches as Jax’s eyes linger on my body once more, the red ropes, my breasts. My breathing speeds up.
The two women begin working the ties. I sigh in relief as Emma releases my wrists.
Jax sips his drink, watching with an intensity I’ve never known. I don’t know what to do. I feel crazy with need. The ropes drop to the floor.
“You have some other panties for her?” he asks.
“Of course,” Emma says. “Shall we take these away?”
I suck in a breath. No one has ever seen me naked. But my nipples tighten, and a hot buzz zips through me like an electric shock.
The feeling is overwhelming. Jax’s fingers twitch by his thigh as if they want to reach out for me, remove my last scrap of clothing himself.
I feel lost. I don’t know what I want more. For him to leave, or for him to keep appraising me the way he is now, like a wolf about to devour its prey. My skin hums with awareness.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he says to the women, who nod in agreement.
Emma slips my plain panties down my thighs. Jax sniffs, as if covering some other sound. He’s hiding his desire. I can feel it. I feel a surge of power again. This man wants me.
Nobody has ever wanted me.
The feeling is intense, more intoxicating than his drink. More addictive than his letters.
I think back for a moment to those words on those sheaves of paper. They started this whole thing. Why had I written him back? Somewhere in my mind, had I wanted this exact thing? A dangerous prisoner to escape, to take me, to sweep me away?
I was getting exactly what I asked for.
“Bring her out when she’s dressed,” he says, as if he can take no more. He turns back to the main room.
I don’t want him to leave. Not yet. “Hey,” I say. “Can I have that bath?”
He looks back, assessing me, and my body bursts with need. God, it’s like a drug. I want him to keep staring, to keep wanting. I’ve never felt so powerful.
His crisp white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, and I can see his Adam’s apple working in his throat. “Yes,” he says and turns to Emma. “Give us a moment.”
The women hurry away to prepare the bath. When they are out of sight, he walks up very close to me. The thrumming in my body reaches a fever pitch. I don’t have on a stitch of clothing. The room is softly lit with lamps on either side of the bed. A more seductive scene never existed.
He’s only inches away. His finger touches me just beneath my chin. “You’re better than I thought,” he says.
I have to swallow hard to get any words out. “What do you mean?”
His hand moves to the small of my back and presses flat against my skin. He pulls me against his hips, and I understand what he’s talking about when I feel the hard bulge press against my belly.
“Some things you inspire without even trying,” he says.
I can barely breathe. We’re connected, the soft fabric of his pants luxurious against my stomach. His hand is warm and firm on my naked back.
“Damn, you are beautiful,” he says. His lips are inches from mine. I can almost taste him, the Old Fashioned probably still lingering on his tongue.
I’m on fire. Neither of us moves. I’m caught between fear and fierce desire. His letters flash through me, all those words, the heat I felt all these months, reading about his intoxicating need. And now it is right here, hot and hard against my actual body.
His jaw is scruffy with stubble. I resist the urge to reach up and touch it. I want something to happen, but I don’t know what. A kiss, maybe. Just that. I have another chance, right here. He’s close enough.
Am I brave enough to do it? I stare at his mouth. My breathing has gotten shallow.
Jax shifts, just slightly, the smallest increment closer to me. The bulge between us fits against me a little tighter. I suck in a breath.
The finger beneath my chin moves down, caressing my throat. This is it, I think. He’s going to do it. He’ll kiss me. Something will happen. Will I take it all the way? How far can I go? The pulsing need in my body tells me I won’t stop him from anything he wants to do to me.
But he rests his finger on the small device he has applied to my neck. “Enjoy your bath,” he says. “But know this has a sedative. Don’t run or do anything sudden, or you will set it off. You’ll be out cold in seconds.”
I pull back from him, breaking our connection. My hand goes to my throat, feeling for the adhesive.
Jax steps away. “I wouldn’t touch it. It activates if you try to pull it off, like one of those security devices in clothing stores.”
I jerk my fingers from my neck. I’m ready to spit fire. He’s toying with me. Acting like he’s caught by me, just so he can push me away again.
I hate him. Fury blasts through me.
“Get out of here,” I say. “I need some time without you staring at me like a lecherous beast.”
He bows from the waist. “As you wish, fair Mia.” His eyes graze my body one more time, then he disappears into the other room.
My body goes cold instantly. I spot a robe hanging on a hook and snatch it up, holding it in front of me. I’m shaky and mad and disappointed and disgusted with myself. Lolling around a hotel room naked like a common trollop, hoping some jerk pays attention to me.
I want to weep into the soft terrycloth, but I won’t. I’m not that Mia anymore. I’m going to get through this. I am strong.
Emma steps out of the bathroom. “You ready?”
I walk toward the garden tub, roiling with a million conflicting emotions. I’m not afraid of Jax. And I’ve given up on being shy. But I don’t know what I want. I try to imagine myself back in my aunt’s house, puttering around in solitude, and I can’t see it.
But this Jax. He’s so hard to understand. And
I don’t know what he wants from me.
Or what I want from him.
13: Jax
Sometime in the morning hours, I jerk instantly awake. Every muscle tenses and prepares for battle, a skill drilled into me in my youth. I assess my surroundings to make sure nothing has changed, that there are no intruders.
Darkness blankets the hotel suite. No sounds. I flip my wrist and press a button on the knife holster, which scans for thermal shifts. Only the fireplace coals show as red. I’m alone in the room.
A thud from above lets me know this is what awakened me. I’m disgruntled that this suite is not on the top floor. Noises from above always bring me fully awake in seconds.
I switch on a lamp. The dim face of a clock reads five a.m. Might as well begin the day. Laid out on the easy chair is a suit bag, left by the two women last night. A quick peek inside confirms the contents: a clean undershirt, soft cotton boxers, socks. And a killer charcoal suit with impeccable tailoring.
Armond, you’re a godsend.
I cast my shirt and pants aside and go through my daily exercises in my boxers, still the rough prison variety left from my escape.
Sit-ups, push-ups, some simple yoga stretches, and a round of tai chi. It feels good to do them somewhere other than a concrete cell. Workout complete, I head into the bathroom by the outer door, stifling the urge to go into the bedroom.
I shower and dress in the clean suit, then brace myself to check on Mia. No telling what sort of mood she’ll be in today. When the two women left, they said she was clean and dressed and ready for me to approve her outfit, but I decided to let them make the choices. I left her alone.
Chicken, my gut tells me. But I prefer to think of it as careful. Something is happening with her that suggests different training than I would expect from her at age twenty.
Most Vigilante girls finish college before going into service, but other families place their daughters in the program in their teens. Only a few will put younger children in training, although cunning youth are very useful in certain situations.
The Vigilante life is a birthright, but you still have to choose it. When my parents informed me at age twelve of my position, I went straight into boot camp, excited by the possibilities. My older brother Arthur, however, being scientifically minded and desiring a career marked by test tubes and Bunsen burners, opted out.
It’s been a good life, even though my parents left the program when I turned thirty.
Or at least it was good, until this past year and my imprisonment.
I assess my scruffy face in the bathroom mirror. I’m not sure what Mia sees when she looks at me. Her kidnapper, no doubt. But she is such a case in opposites. Frightened, then brave. Angry, then cunning. Innocent, then seductively standing naked by a bed.
Who is this girl I have taken into my possession? I’m not sure if I should be protecting her or keeping up my own guard.
I have concerns about entering a high-security silo. There might be hostility. If they do finally arrange a tribunal to hear the facts surrounding my murder of another Vigilante, it could take days. I probably should leave the girl out of it.
But if I enter the facility, I will learn more about Mia’s past.
I want to know who she is, where she comes from, what the Vigilantes plan to do with her. She should have a career path, a training regimen. Maybe I can influence it, or at least know where she is.
Unless she’s an enemy. In that case, she can rot along with Jovana and her ilk.
I open the bedroom door carefully, quietly.
Mia sleeps soundly in the bed. The red ropes loosely hold her in place, tied by the two women per my instructions. The knots are rough and unpracticed, but they do their job.
Mia’s honey-brown hair spills over the fluffy pillows like strands of fine silk. Even though her arms are tied, she has managed to pin the covers with her elbows. The sheet is pulled to her chin, but I spy the strap of a red negligee.
Armond must have sent word of my favorite color. Against her pale skin, the swath of crimson stands out like a warning flag.
As it should. The last time I inspected a woman this closely, she got me sent to prison.
Mia stirs as I cross the room. Her eyes flutter for a second before awareness hits and she wakes with a gasp.
“Good morning, temptress,” I say.
She stares at me and pulls against her bonds. A grimace creases her brow.
“Are you going to let me up?” she asks. “This isn’t exactly comfortable.” Her words carry a hint of accusation.
“In a moment. First, we talk.”
She looks down for a moment as if to ensure her modesty, then lets her gaze slide back my way.
“I am going to a Vigilante stronghold. There I hope to find out where Klaus might be and start the process of clearing my name.”
Her eyes shine with some thought. Hope of being left behind, alone?
“You are coming with me,” I add with a smile.
“Why?” The shine is gone.
“Because I need you. And I’m curious. The Vigilantes have info on everyone. Everyone except you. If I can’t find the answers I seek at the silo, I will extract information from you. I can make you talk.”
Mia visibly swallows. She probably thinks I’m talking about torture. Poor girl.
“Don’t worry, Mia. I like you, remember?”
“Parts of you do,” she says blandly.
Now she is behaving more like I expected.
I approach the bed. Mia stiffens a little, which makes me smile. Back to her training. The frightened act.
I know better. She stood naked before me last night and waited for me to kiss her. I didn’t give her the satisfaction, although I sorely could have used it myself.
I pull out the first knot in the ropes binding her to the bed. She drops the scared expression and stretches her arm. Her sigh of contentment goes straight to my gut.
I feel that hitch, that pull of desire. I quash it with a quick spike of anger.
“Do not think for an instant that I will hesitate to do what it takes to keep you in line,” I say. I tug on the rope for emphasis.
“Hey!” she says with a glare. She shifts on the bed and the sheet slips down to reveal the fiery lace negligee. It cups her breasts, pushing them into an impossibly deep cleavage, then falls in a sheer swath of red to where she is hidden again by the covers.
Is she playing with me? I trust her even less than I did a moment ago. Still, my body’s reaction is swift. I want her. I have to clamp down on my jaw to resist the urge to press her down on the bed and end this charade right now.
“Up,” I say.
She jerks against the rope. “How?” A flash of anger makes her face even more beautiful.
“Fine.” I untie everything except the binds around each of her wrists.
“Hand me that dress,” she says. “And the bra.”
I intend to make another searing remark. But instead, I turn to the red sweater dress draped over the side chair. Next to it, a small box holds a matching bra.
I pass her the clothing, and she pulls it beneath the covers and disappears under a bulge of blanket.
After a moment, the red negligee flies through the air. It hits the beige carpet like a bloodstain.
I lean against the wall, my anger dissipating. I’ve never seen a woman act like this. Temptress, then shy girl. It’s entertaining, at least.
Mia slides from the covers fully dressed, but the sweater hugs her curves in all the best places as she moves toward the bathroom.
She insists on closing the door, pointing to the device on her neck. I nod. It doesn’t matter. There’s no way a half-trained Phase One can escape me, and I’m done playing games about it. There is no window in the bathroom. If she exited either door, I could drop her unconscious in seconds.
I head to the main room and pull out the Vigilante tech kit Sam gave me. I pick up my watch and check the band. With just the right motion, two short, sharp prongs slip o
ut. The tips glisten with contact poison. Handy.
The bathroom door opens and Mia emerges, looking rather resplendent despite her disheveled hair. The dress gives with every motion and seems to ripple over her body. She moves with an inborn grace.
Mia holds out her arms where the long trail of ropes are looped around her delicate wrists. “Ready to lead me out of here like a slave girl?”
I approach and her surprise is palpable as I untie her wrists and free her fully from her binding.
“Why didn’t you do that earlier?” she asks as she rubs the marks on her skin. “Would have made things easier.” She glances back into the bathroom.
I chuckle. “It would have, yes. But where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re an ass,” she says.
For a moment, camaraderie courses between us, like we’re on the same team.
But we’re not. I can’t forget that. Not for an instant.
“We will be walking out of here together.” I let my voice go cold. “Remember that I can sedate you at any time, so I suggest you behave yourself. A woman fainting won’t raise an eyebrow from the staff.”
She frowns, the easy teasing gone. It’s best that we both remember our place in this scheme.
“I need my shoes,” she says.
I wave in the direction of the bedroom. Mia heads there, looking confused and torn. I have an urge to touch her, give her some sort of comfort. Damn, this girl is vexing.
I’m starting to sense that maybe she had juvenile training early on and this faltering temptress trick is something new. Still, shoddy work. I feel increasingly certain that she’s part of Jovana’s brood, and not true Vigilante. The program is unsurpassed in matching a trainee with his or her natural gifts, and they would never place a half-prepared Vigilante in a safe house.
Mia comes back, teetering unsteadily on stiletto heels. “This is a new look for me,” she says.
Great. She’ll be incapable of walking more than five feet. No matter. We have to get moving.
I touch a button on the table and within minutes, a man enters. With only a faint nod from me, he gathers my packed suit and another red bag that contains additional outfits for Mia.
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