Page 178 of The Vigilante's Lover

Jovana starts convulsing, her stomach heaving like she’s going to throw up.

“The gastrointestinal one. It’s a torture drug.” He frowns.

“Well, get the antidote!” I say.

Colette starts to writhe on the ground as well. But still, Mark doesn’t move.

I stride over to him and punch him in the belly. “Do it now,” I say.

He doesn’t even flinch from the blow, but it does take him out of whatever pissed-off daze he’s in. He walks to the trunk and opens the lid.

“If you’re so keen on waking them up to fight again, you do it,” he says. He tosses me a red vial.

“I need two,” I say, but then turn away. I’ll dose Colette. He can worry about Jovana.

I yank the protective cover off the needle and stab Colette in the arm. The lovely navy and white dress is dusty and torn. Her short bob covers her face.

I drain the antidote into her and kneel down, the asphalt biting into my knees through my jeans.

Every day since I met Jax has been nothing but the most insane collection of events.

Colette shudders, her hand moving to her belly. Her eyes flutter open. “Putain, ça douille.” Her face is contorted.

“You okay?” I ask. I brush her hair back.

“I think I’d rather be dead,” she says.

Next to us, Jovana’s breathing is labored and pained. She lets out a long terrible groan.

Mark stays at the back of the car, leaning on the upraised lid of the trunk.

“You going to take care of her?” I ask. “You can’t let her die. She’s a special.”

“I’m deciding,” Mark says.

Colette pushes to a sitting position. “You had to usela putain debelly dart.”

“Sorry,” Mark says. “It was preloaded.”

“Stick to the green one,” Colette says, her hands still pressed to her stomach. “Much more civilized.”

Mark shrugs.

I stand up and help Colette to her feet. She staggers a bit, and I wrap an arm around her waist.

“Jax is going to be glad to see you,” she says.

“Shit, I should have known,” Mark says and kicks the car again.

It takes a moment for their words to sink in, but then my heart leaps. “He’s alive?”

Colette takes a step toward her car. “Yes. He’s with Sam. They’re on their way to Washington.” She points to the bag. “Is that yours?”

I snatch it up. My heart is hammering. Jax is alive! I knew it! I want to scream it out loud, but I just hang on to Colette as we hobble across the broken asphalt.

We make it to the BMW and she rests her hand on the hood. “I’m not ready to drive yet.”

“Let me,” I say. “I’ve handled a couple Vigilante cars at this point.”