Why did he leave me? Is he really going to Washington without me?
I sit on the bed, tears threatening. After all my self-pep talks, I’m totally bereft. I thought we were doing this thing together.
Something bumps against my thigh. It’s the black oval ring. Our bondage rope is tied to it. It’s nothing special. Just a silly plain ol’ square knot.
“Good job, Jax,” I say bitterly. “Leave me with the knot every kid learns in kindergarten.”
I turn the ring over in my hand, my eyes burning. At least the ring is mine and was always mine. It’s something I still have of my life, my house.
I tug on the string to untie the knot.
Then I realize something.
It’s not a square knot at all.
It’s a thief knot. It’s a trick of sorts. Sailors would use it to know if someone had opened their trunks and then tied them closed again. The thief wouldn’t know that the knot wasn’t a normal one, but this special kind.
The kind that sends the message — something’s been stolen.
Jax!
He’s been taken by the Vigilantes!
I don’t even panic. I’ve faced too many things in too short a time to let that happen anymore.
Be systematic, make a plan, and think everything through, I tell myself.
I go back to the bathroom, dress quickly, and tie my hair back.
If I had greasepaint, I’d totally put it under my eyes like a linebacker before a football game.
But instead, I choose the easiest bag to carry, a soft leather backpack, and load up all the weapons and Vigilante tech in the room, a clean shirt, and just as a measure of comfort, the blue nightie.
The girl in the mirror looks wary now, ready to do hard business. I snatch up the UFC ball cap Jax wore to the fight last night and shove it on my head, bringing the rim down low.
I strap the backpack on and head out of the room. I know I can’t go to Jax’s car. Either the Vigilantes have it or they’ve rigged it so that it will be useless to me. Or track me.
But I know something they probably don’t.
I have another car. The one in Alpine that Jax and I left when he realized I had his Aston Martin.
I’ll get the Acura we stole, drive to Alpine, and get to that car. Once I have it, I’ll contact Sam, or Colette, or even Armond. Get back in the game. I’ll take that damn car right up to the silo in Missouri, if I have to. I’ll drive right through the damn doors.
Yes.
I feel strong and fierce as I head out into the bright morning. I knowwhere the car is. Despite all our circular driving last night after getting away, it’s only about five miles. I’ll walk it. And pay attention.
I still have the cash Jovana shoved at me last night, so I stop along the way for a breakfast sandwich and coffee. Sustenance. Rest. Alertness.
I’m on this.
The city is full of sunshine and schoolchildren and people heading to work. It’s hard to pass them by, knowing my life is turned upside down while theirs goes on normally.
Do the Vigilantes really keep these people safe? Everything I’ve seen so far leads me to believe they have serious internal problems. But I know so little.
Time for me to get up close and personal.
I tug the brim of the cap to keep it right over my eyes and pay attention to every car that passes. I nickname them based on their color and license plate so that I will notice any of them that repeat. JAYthree Blue. Ugly brown PZazz. White van KTycat.
