Page 24 of The Vigilante's Lover

Shit.

I’m watching Mia get undressed, that glorious body revealed again, when she suddenly passes clean out.

They got her. I suspected it.

I glance at the display on the dash. The majority of the Vigilantes are still clustered around the Crybaby, but several have strayed away. Two are following my path, out of luck or awareness of my position, I don’t know.

Anything in this car could be tipping them off, and now I have a poisoned woman to deal with.

I saw the dart hit her neck when she was on my lap. I knew it was meant for me. I pulled it from her instantly, but apparently the injection system has improved during my time in Ridley Prison. There was no delay at all.

I have about seven minutes until it kills her.

I check the distance of the blips again, and scan the landscape for a safe location to pull off the road. It will do me no good to stop for the antidote if I immediately get stalled by Vigilantes. By the time I can fight or talk my way back to Mia, it will be too late.

I jerk the wheel to cut down a narrow driveway that looks like it might lead to a single residence. The density of the trees on either side of the path obscures whatever might be at the end of it.

Based on the condition of the fencing, the place is either abandoned or inhabited by elderly people who can no longer keep it up. All good things.

As soon as I’m out of sight of the road, I slam on the brakes and jump out the door and into the backseat.

Which poison is it? I press my fingers to Mia’s neck. Her breaths are slow and shallow, her pulse fluttery. Has to be respiratory, as the neurological one causes spasms.

I’m torn on what to do next. Dismantle anything Vigilante to avoid detection, or go straight for the vials of antidotes and try to figure out which one to try?

I check the display. The blips still show the Vigilantes’ approach. Until they pass the drive I turned down, I won’t know if they are on to me. I can’t risk them coming. I still have five solid minutes for Mia.

I race to the front seat of the car, powering down all the transmitters, jerking open the glove compartment and pulling out the wires powering all the systems that were custom-fitted by Sam.

I assume that even though I jettisoned the Crybaby and our identity chips, the Vigilantes scanned all the tech in the car when it was abandoned and can follow it.

That done, I race to the trunk and tear through everything in it. I power off every detector, all the security features, and then take apart anything with a power source.

Now we should be black, emitting nothing but body heat signatures that aren’t easily tracked by their moving vehicles. At the same time, without any tech, I won’t know they’re coming if they do. The entire system is down.

But never mind that. I have to go for the vials. I open the side compartment to the black valise Sam left for me. Inside are five syringes. I can’t just use them all. The antidotes are as bad as the poisons themselves if I use the wrong one.

I think through them carefully, glad now that I took the time on the original drive to Mia’s house to listen to Sam’s rundown of the contents of the car.

The blue vial is for the neurological dart, which I ruled out.

The red one is a digestive one, a painful torture poison that would have made her sick before she passed out.

Yellow is a snuff dart, which is rarely used.

This vial isn’t an antidote. It chemically alters the poison in their system to hide what you did.

Mia would already be dead if they’d used this one.

The last two are powerful drugs meant to incapacitate prior to the kill. I don’t believe for a minute they just sedated her. Vigilantes stationed on the perimeters of silos don’t even carry anything that isn’t lethal. The seven-minute time span means they can save you if they want to.

But which one? Green or white?

I snatch them both and head to the backseat. Dilated pupils. That will tell me. One of the poisons will affect your eyes. The other won’t.

I lean in close to Mia and take her head in my hand. Her honey hair spills down, dark and wet from the river water. My throat is tight as I push on her eyelids to check her pupils. The blacks are normal sized inside her green irises.

I lay her down more comfortably on the seat and pick up the white vial. I’m sure that dart was probably meant for me. Whoever aimed the shot should be downgraded to floor-mopping duty. Vigilantes should never miss their target.

I tug the cap off the needle and stick Mia gently in the crook of her arm. When the syringe is empty, I recap it and look outside the car. If the Vigilantes are truly tracking me, they will arrive any second.

I wait, counting heartbeats, for either Mia to wake up or a car to bear down on us.

Neither happens.

I lay my head on Mia’s chest, listening. Her heartbeat is less rapid, but her respiration is still slow, too slow. The dart contained more than her slender body could handle. The dose was meant for me.

Damn it. I peer up the driveway. There’s a structure just visible around a bend. I pull an oversized shawl from Mia’s clothing bag and cover her with it. Then I get back behind the wheel and slowly ease the car down the lane.

I assess my own emotional state as we move. I’m more anxious than I should be. I’ve lost my own cold control.

Calming breaths. Stay alert and prepared.

I’m vulnerable, I know, with all my tech disabled. But I just waltzed out of a Vigilante silo with nothing more than a universal passkey. I’m up for this.

It’s the girl. She’s setting off a buzz inside me that doesn’t respond to my training. I want to protect her, keep her safe. And right now, I’ve failed at that.

We pull up in front of an old farmhouse.

It’s definitely abandoned, the front door hanging from its frame.

I drive around behind it to hide the car.

Farmland that has been encroached upon by brush and small trees stretches as far as I can see.

To my left is a barn that looks like it is in good shape.

I’ll move the car in there once I know Mia is all right.

I kill the car and turn to check on her. Still out, but I’m reassured by the rise and fall of her chest beneath the shawl.

I debate leaving her in the car while I investigate the house and make it secure. But I can’t do it. If the Vigilantes do wander down this drive, they’ll take her. And if she has some unexpected reaction to the poison or the antidote, I want to be there.

The house is two stories. The back steps look solid. The open front door might actually be a suitable ruse, making the house look empty. I just need to secure one of the rooms.

I walk to the back of the car and lift Mia into my arms. The shawl falls away, revealing the creamy skin again. She shivers, which I take as an excellent sign. I tuck the shawl around her and pull her close.

One swift kick at the back door pops it open.

The kitchen is dirty but intact. One exit leads to an empty dining room.

Another goes to a hall and straight to the open front door.

Not secure at all. I turn past the stairs to check and see if there is a bedroom downstairs, but there is only an empty room with a splintered wall piano and an old armchair losing its stuffing.

This is no good. I roll Mia into me and peer out the front window. Still no sign of anyone.

I return to the kitchen and out the back door. Mia starts to stir, taking in a sudden sharp breath. I pause by the car, looking down at her. Her eyelids flutter but don’t open.

She’s coming out of it.

I hurry toward the barn. There’s a giant set of doors out front, but a normal-sized door on the side near the house. Instead of kicking it, I test to see if it will open without damaging it. I grimace when Mia’s bare knee brushes the rough surface as I turn the knob.

The inside is dim, splinters of light coming in through the cracks. The building is cavernous, open, and strewn with hay bales. A rickety ladder leads up to a loft.

Much easier to defend.

I kick at a crumbling hay bale until it falls apart. It’s not quite enough, so I knock a couple others around until I have a suitable pile.

The shawl slides off Mia easily, and I kneel to hold her in my lap as I spread it out on the loose hay.

When I set her on it, she immediately curls into a tight ball, shivering.

My shirt is pretty dry now, so I strip it off and cover her with it.

It won’t be enough, but it will have to do for a moment.

I pull the shawl around her and wait. Her pulse seems normal, and her respiration also seems to have settled. I’m not sure why she’s not awake. I shake her lightly. “Mia, are you all right?”

Her face scrunches in pain.

I’ve only been poisoned once by a Vigilante dart, the torture one, on accident when Sam was testing one of his hidden injectors. He administered the antidote within seconds, but coming out of it was still an unsavory experience. I imagine Mia is not feeling too well at the moment.

I brush her hair off her face. Finally, her eyes open. “Jax?” she says.

“You were taken down by a medicated dart,” I say, deciding to soften the seriousness of the hit. “You’ll be fine in a moment, but you might feel a little sick.”

She looks around. “Where are we?”

“A barn.”

She coughs out half a laugh. “Back to my roots.”

“You can take the girl out of the country,” I say.

“But you can’t take the country out of the girl,” she finishes. Then she frowns. “Did you lose your shirt?”

“It looks better on you.”

Mia glances down. “Oh,” she says.

“I think you were changing when the dart took effect,” I tell her.

She tugs the shirt more tightly around her. “I don’t remember.”

Her closeness now that she is awake starts to become a distraction. I’m still surprised by her unexpected kiss, tying me down. Yes, I definitely need to put some distance between us.

“I’m going to get your clothes from the car,” I say and stand up.

“Are we safe here?” she asks.

“For a while. Until you recover a bit.”

She sits up. “Where are we going?”

I was expecting this question. I’m not sure if I should continue to placate her, or tell her the truth.

But my hesitation gives me away. She struggles to her feet. “You can’t take me back to Tennessee. I won’t go!”

“Mia, you are acting like a petulant child.”

“You weren’t treating me like a child a few minutes ago!”

God, she’s so difficult. Why won’t she just let me get her to safety?

“If you stay with me, we’re both dead,” I say.

“You got us out of the silo. We jumped into a river! I kept up with you!” Her eyes flash like fire in the dim barn. The poison’s definitely out of her system. Or the antidote is making her slightly manic.

“We work well together!” she insists.

She stands before me, clutching the shawl and my shirt. Her hair falls over her bare shoulders, the red straps of her bra bright against her skin.

I have to get some distance.

“I need to get some supplies from my car,” I say.

She reaches out her hand. “I want to go out there with you.”

Does she think I’m going to just leave her here in the barn? “I’m not going to desert you here,” I tell her. “We’re miles from anywhere.”

“Can you just sit down for a minute?” she asks, tilting her head. Her green eyes are visible even in this light.

“In the last few hours, I’ve been interrogated, locked up, forced to climb a ladder in the pitch black, chased by strangers, and shot with a dart,” she says. “You owe me a moment.”

She plops back down on the hay, letting the shawl and my shirt fall into a puddle in her lap. Her bare shoulders lead to the red bra. It’s not substantial at all, just sheer wisps that accentuate her puckered nipples in the chill.

“Sit down,” she insists. Her voice has an edge to it, like a schoolteacher who expects instant obedience.

I hesitate. I want to secure the doors, pull some weapons, set up a defendable position. But my legs aren’t involved in that decision, and I settle in the hay next to those enticing buds poking through fabric as thin as air.

I’ll listen to what she has to say, if only to keep looking at her.