Page 164 of The Vigilante's Lover

Mark clicks away my screen. The male voice says, “Prisoner identified. Special is not to be harmed.”

He looks over at Jovana. “I assume you’re not planning to hurt her?” he asks.

Jovana rolls her eyes. “Whatever. By tomorrow, everything will have changed. The committee meets tonight over the Bronson thing, and Sutherland will have global command by morning.” She gestures over her shoulder at me. “First thing, I’ll have her special status revoked and we can finish her off.”

I don’t even react to her wanting to kill me. I want her to talk moreabout this plan of Sutherland’s. It sounds like something big is going down.

“Show me the video now,” Jovana says.

“Right,” Mark answers. The screen on the dash shows a list, and he clicks on one option.

The gray-haired man who scanned Colette in her car a week ago comes onscreen. Sutherland again. I want to shrink back from his penetrating eyes, but this is just a recording. He isn’t actually looking at us. I wonder how you know which is which — a one-way message or a video conversation.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be trained to find out.

Jovana is rapt as she listens. When he soberly mentions that Mars Bronson has killed a Vigilante in Germany, she claps her hands. “It’s all going perfectly,” she says with excitement.

But when Sutherland goes on to talk about two other killings, she frowns. “That wasn’t supposed to happen yet. There was a timeline. He’s rushing it.”

The recording ends and the screen returns to a map with red pulsing points.

“What do you think that means?” Mark asks.

“That means something is going wrong,” Jovana says.

“You want to contact him?”

Jovana doesn’t answer, and I know it’s because she doesn’t want to admit that Sutherland isn’t answering her calls.

“I don’t want to blow our cloak,” Jovana says.

She’s adamant about that. She must be in some sort of trouble and doesn’t want anyone she doesn’t trust to know where she is.

“You’re not cutting me out of the deal, right?” Mark asks. “I’m expecting to be brought in.”

Jovana reaches out to caress his shoulder. “Of course you will be,” she says. “I won’t let the people who help me get left behind.”

Mark looks into the mirror and meets my gaze. I hold it steady. Ialready know what I have to do. If it’s so critical that Jovana stay hidden, then I have to blow the cloak. But first I have to know if the car will recognize me, like Jax’s did.

These cars are smart and can tell the difference between ordinary conversation and commands that are intended for it. I think it has to do with the forcefulness of your voice, the direction you’re speaking, and using command language.

It’s worth a shot.

“Find the nearest bathroom,” I say, as if it’s to them. But the sharply drawn breath makes the laser grid zap my chest. The front of Armond’s lovely leather jacket is marred with an etching.

Jovana laughs. “Pee in your pants.”

But the car voice says, “Mia Morrow verified.” The dash displays a map and points out the nearest rest stops. Since it’s registered my status, it knows to listen to me.

“You have to go, love?” Mark asks.

“Cut her out of the command line,” Jovana snaps. “Now.”

But she’s too late. Before Mark can even touch the dash, I’ve already told the car, “Remove all cloaking levels.”

They can rot in hell.

7: Jax