Free The Vigilante's Lover: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (The Vigilantes Book 1) by Annie Winters, Tony West Page A

she really is one of my enemies, she’ll be captured. I’ll take great pleasure in interrogating her myself, no holds barred.
    Great pleasure.
    Mia stares out the window, lost in thought. Her skin is fair in the morning light. I may just have to accept the fact that I’m caught by her.
    I decide not to say anything about the situation. Hopefully things will work out without too much drama. I’ll go in, confess my role in killing Jovana’s rival and how it came about, and we’ll start the process of clearing my name.
    After the night it all went down, no one brought me to the syndicate for questioning. I was taken to Ridley Prison like a common criminal, without any sort of Vigilante tribunal. I aim to find out who arranged that and why no one stepped forward to challenge how my case was handled.
    “Is it far?” Mia asks.
    “An hour,” I say.
    Mia smooths out a rumple in her skirt. She seems almost nervous. I wonder if she has something to hide, something that will be revealed when she enters the silo. Maybe she plans to attack me and escape before we arrive.
    This is going to be a very interesting morning.

14: Mia

    Jax seems different than last night.
    I steal peeks at him as he drives. This car, now that I’m in the front, isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen. The dash at first glance seems like the new fancy electrics. A whole-car perimeter camera screen. Gauges that tell you time to next charge, miles per amp, the size of your environmental footprint.
    But there’s other things. Maps display on the windshield. There’s a countdown that is twenty-four hours in and will end in forty-eight more. Another inexplicable hexagon projected onto the glass has pulsing red lights of varying brightness.
    “So what is that one?” I ask, curiosity eating at me. I point to the hexagon.
    Jax shifts his attention to the display. In the bright light of day, he seems less imposing. His eyes are actually a gray-blue, now that I can see them beneath his hooded brow. He’s ridiculously handsome. I’ve never seen anyone like him before. Maybe in a movie.
    I remember him looking at me last night, when I thought he would kiss me. My heart quickens.
    “That is just a view of my compatriots and their positions,” he says. The way his voice dips on the word “compatriots” suggests that the dots represent something quite the opposite of anything friendly.
    “You said my aunt’s house was ‘compromised’ last night. How, exactly?”
    His eyes flick over to me, then go back to the road. “It was your own alarm that went off. You should know.”
    “I had no idea there was anything in my lampshade.”
    His expression darkens. That’s the Jax I remember. Angry. Suspicious. I’ve hit a nerve.
    “It should have been updated with a more current model. Did you only recently go to that safe house?”
    This question feels like a trick. He knows how long I have been writing the letters.
    “I grew up there. I was gone for a couple years to community college. I came back to care for my aunt.”
    His face gets even more sullen. He thinks I’m lying, but I don’t get why. How can he assume that I know anything? I suddenly understand how innocent people are convicted of crimes. It doesn’t matter that you have nothing to do with it. You’re guilty just by being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
    “I’m not sure why you feel it necessary to lie to me,” he says. “I’m a high-ranking Vigilante. I know everything about that house.”
    “I don’t think you do,” I protest. “You say someone named Georgiana Powers lived there, but that can’t possibly be true. My Aunt Bea has owned it for decades. I lived there for most of my childhood. You’re wrong.” I shake my head. “You’re just too stubborn to say you’re wrong.”
    “I’m never wrong,” he says. “That’s how I’ve gotten where I am.”
    I snort out the most unladylike sound. “Ridley Prison? Am I supposed to believe that is some sort of exalted