I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved. This woman was Jax’s lover. He apparently cared enough for her to kill a man because she asked him to. That’s no small request. I can’t possibly imagine requesting something like that.
If she is as beautiful as her brother is gorgeous, I’m going to feel very outclassed. Not that the feeling isn’t something I’m used to. It’s just that lately I’ve been more brave. Not trying to disappear into the wallpaper.
Jax takes the binoculars from me and peers intently through them. I can feel the tension in his body, coiled, like a hungry lion. The thought makes heat rush through me. I like him this way. Intense. Professional. Sharp.
The sweet guy taking my hand a minute ago was nice. But this is an entirely different set of muscles contracting.
I want to fan myself.
The match begins. Lukov and his competitor, Growler, are evenly skilled. I keep my cheerleading reined in, although I have to resist shadowboxing as they hit each other in the ring.
The match goes through all three rounds. The judges declare Lukov the winner. When they leave the ring for the next match to start, Jax stands up. “Let’s go,” he says.
I follow him past the cleavage woman and her husband and out the back entrance. Then we’re in the lobby area.
“What are we going to do now?” I ask.
Jax shoves the binoculars into a knapsack. “Follow Lukov. This is a big win for him, and Jovana is bound to call to congratulate him. She might still be in town. She could be in some disguise I can’t spot.”
“Don’t you have one of those heat signature thingies?” I ask. Vigilantes always seem to be able to identify people in strange ways.
His voice is bitter. “She’s a special. She won’t show.” He startsstriding rapidly toward the exits. “I want to be out back when Lukov comes out.”
“You don’t think he’ll stay for the other matches?”
“No. I know the drill from my Vegas days. He’ll have some media interviews, then an after-party. I’m betting if Jovana’s in town, she’ll come to that.”
The air is cool as we burst through the doors and into the night. It’s quiet with the matches still going on. Only a lone security guard leans against a pillar, smoking a cigarette.
“How will we find out where the party is?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer for a minute. When we’ve walked a solid block from the arena, he finally says, “I have some fighter friends. I’ll ask them.”
We’ve parked the Aston Martin a good half mile away to make sure Jovana and Klaus don’t spot it, but we pass the turn to the lot where it is stashed.
“Where are we going now?” I ask. I don’t believe for a second he’s forgotten where it is.
“I’m looking for a car to steal,” he says.
I halt. “A what?”
“A car. I can’t exactly drive the car Klaus has used for the past year right to the door.”
Excitement tingles. I like the idea of stealing another car. “What are we looking for?”
“Something fast. And that looks like it’s parked somewhere semi-permanently so that it won’t be noticed as missing right away.”
He points to a posh-looking building. “An apartment high-rise. A lot of them have standard parking for the residents. But most also have additional spots you can rent. That’s where you put your play cars, the ones you don’t drive often.”
Jax is describing a world I have never known. Probably never would have known, except for him.
I could be dating the grocery store sacker right now, planning asmall-town wedding and deciding on a charming fixer-upper to buy.
We turn down the ramp to the garage beneath the building. It’s full of normal cars and trucks. Jax heads toward the elevator. We step inside, but he just glances at the buttons and walks out again. “It’ll be the underground level,” he says. “It’s the least convenient.”
I don’t ask why we take the stairs instead of the elevator. Maybe it’s like his poisoned hotel food, a little quirk of Jax’s.
We walk down a level. Here the cars are way fancier. Sporty red BMWs and some older classic cars. Several are under tarps. I recognize a 1965 Mustang. Jax pauses beside it. “Good for power, but I probably need a few modern amenities.”
