But they’re not popular accessories. Particularly not for stylish women.
This has got to be her.
I crouch down and run alongside the cars, staying as near as I dare. She stops for a second to growl into the watch. Now I can hear her loud and clear.
“He just showed up here! Jax! Klaus is taking care of him.”
Shit! She said Jax!
My breathing speeds up. The menace in her voice could scare paint off a wall.
I try to think what to do. This woman looks strong, like she’s trained to take people down. But she is dressed well, in a short skirt, a button-down top, and heels. I don’t care how good you are, heels make you less stable and an easier mark.
“Sutherland, are you cutting me out?” she asks. “Nobody told me Jax survived the blast.”
Sutherland? The creepy dude in Colette’s car? The head guy? I scarcely dare to inhale, trying to listen to every word. This is the most important conversation of my life.
“All right. Fine,” she says. “I’m coming to the Washington office. I can’t get there until tomorrow night.” She jingles her other wrist with its collection of bangles. She’s agitated. “Don’t avoid me like you did inChicago,” she insists and smacks the watch. The light goes out.
I glance around. She’s walking again. I have to get to her before she gets to her car.
And do what? Attack her? Shit. I need Jax. I don’t know what he wants with her.
Then I remember.
She blew up my HOUSE.
Bitch.
I don’t think for another minute but take off in a dead run. I’m going to enjoy watching her pretty face skid across the asphalt.
13: Jax
The corners of Klaus’s lips twitch. “Feeling okay, Jax?”
I say nothing, instead making my own feint to aim a sharp blow at his diaphragm. He blocks it and tries to throw me like I did him a moment ago. It takes every effort to resist the motion and stay put.
We trade blows and blocks. I can’t gain the advantage.
Finally I grab his hand, and the skin feels strange under my grip. Loose, almost like it’s disconnected. I twist and yank hard. A piece tears away with a sickening sound.
Klaus smiles as he holds up his hand. He’s wearing some sort of very fine, thin glove. It imitates his real skin almost perfectly.
“The latest in Vigilante tech,” he says. “Prosthetic skin as weaponry. Amazing what we can do with it.” His gaze locks on mine. “Like administer contact poisons in complete safety and secrecy.”
Of course. That’s why he’s stalling, and that’s why he’s able to match me.
“I had hoped the bomb would do the job,” he continues, sounding bored. “Apparently I miscalculated.”
So he wasn’t trying to let me escape. He simply had no skill.
“You’re no Sam, that’s for sure,” I growl.
“Yes, Sam. We’ll have to do something about him someday. Colette too, I suppose. Too bad, I liked them.”
I blow off his threat. “And who iswe, Klaus? More than you and Jovana?”
“More than you know, Jax.”
