Page 110 of The Vigilante's Lover

“Easy, Mia,” he says.

“Is that what you think?” I sputter. “That my parents were like you?” I shake my head. “No way. They were normal, ordinary parents. My dad worked at a bank. My mom had a part-time job as a florist.”

His eyes don’t let go of my gaze. I’m not sure he believes me, or if he thinks I’m deluded. But he lets it go. “And what did your aunt do?” heasks.

I frown. So we’re back to that sore subject. “I don’t remember her doing anything. She was always just there.”

“Was she independently wealthy? Have you uncovered accounts since she died?”

My voice is small and timid. “No.”

“And you never wondered how she kept up that house or paid her bills?”

“She got money for the hay,” I tell him. “The neighbors used her land and gave her a cut.”

“Was that enough?” Jax won’t let up.

My anger starts to rise up. “She didn’t need much. She didn’t have a mortgage to pay. Just electric and gas and a few little things here and there.”

Jax slices at his steak with more power than necessary. Somehow this makes me think of him killing someone. He said he had done that.

My anxiety peaks. I have to know who this man is.

“How did you kill him?” I blurt.

He stops, fork halfway to his mouth. “Kill who?”

“The guy. The one that got you put in jail.”

He sets the fork back down. “Strangulation.”

“With your bare hands?”

“With my bare hands.”

I stare at those hands of his. Beautiful. Strong. I can still see them on my body, his dark fingers against my skin.

And they had killed someone.

“Why?” I ask.

He picks up his wine and takes a sip before answering, looking over the rim at me.

“Because I was under the impression at the time that he was trafficking young girls in the sex trade.”

My jaw falls open. Hell, I would have killed him too.

“But you were wrong?” I ask.

“No, he was in the business. But I had no idea he was a Vigilante.”

“But killing him was good, right?”

He holds his glass with both hands. “I don’t take killing someone lightly.”

“How do you know who to kill and who not to kill?”

He twirls the glass, looking intently at the swirling wine. “Generally, if they are shooting at you, it’s okay to kill them.”