The Vigilante's Lover: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (The Vigilantes Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

the white gown again. Now it’s slit high on her thigh. “Who are you, really?”
    “Mia!” she cries. She pushes back against her pillow, as if she can escape me.
    “Who wrote the letters?”
    At that, she sags limply, her expression dropping into shame. “I did. I shouldn’t have. I—I led you on. I pretended to be K. Klaus.”
    This makes me laugh out loud, ringing through the room with such force that the girl lurches away, banging against the headboard.
    “Do you even know who Klaus is?” I ask.
    She squirms against the wrist binding. “I assumed it was the woman you are in love with.”
    I tuck the dagger back into my wrist holster and lift a polished shoe up on the base of the bed. I lean over, bracing my arm on one knee. I don’t know who this Mia girl is, but she poses no threat to me.
    “Klaus is my partner. He came to this safe house to wait on my instructions. The letters were for him.”
    “You—you like men?” she asks, still not understanding anything.
    I drop my foot and come around to the side of the bed. She wiggles a little so that she can cross her loose leg over the slit in her gown, as if she is trying to preserve her modesty.
    Whatever. I know how girls like her are trained. The innocent victim. They want to ensnare you, like a pool shark pretends to be a beginner.
    But this one wrote me in my own code, which means she knew what she was doing, however pathetically she misinterpreted the knots.
    I will show her I understand her game, and that I am not a Vigilante to be trifled with. We’ll end this little charade here and now.
    I sit next to her. Her breathing speeds up again. The letters are still spread across the bed. I spot one with only a single line. “A new one?” I ask. “For me?”
    She doesn’t answer, just watches with those green eyes. Vixen eyes. Looks like I’ll be ending my dry spell on this one before it’s over. Maybe I’ll let her think she’s seducing me, right till the end.
    I pick up the letter.
    “Let’s see,” I say. “What was on sweet Mia’s mind before she retired this evening?” I hold the paper to the light. “Mmmm. I like this. ‘You jerk my ankles apart with such strength that my gown disintegrates into tattered shreds around my naked hips.’”
    I glance down at her thighs. “I say we give this one a go.”
    Her eyes widen with shock. Such a well-trained little actress. I look forward to assessing her skill. What sort of maneuvers does she take pride in? I can already picture those slender legs wrapped around me.
    I grasp the white cotton and tear it past her waist. Her hips are narrow in simple white panties. I finger the lace edge. Her breathing comes fast again. She’s so good at this. I almost believe it.
    “Such pretty little underwear,” I say.
    Her green eyes glisten with tears. So well done.
    “Are you going to tell me you’re a virgin?” I ask. “I hope you know you can only do the hymen restructure surgery so many times before you lose feeling.”
    Her mouth opens in a feigned oval of shock. As if she didn’t know.
    “Your nightclothes remind me of one of my favorite books. Little Women. Have you read it?”
    She shakes her head no.
    “A pity,” I say. “Such strong women in that book. Do you consider yourself a strong woman?”
    She shakes her head again.
    “Too bad. Because we’re about to find out what you’re made of.”
    When I rip another slice through her nightgown, she screams.

8: Mia

    I am in hell.
    I am in the hell I deserve for lying to this man. For writing him. For leading him on.
    I wish I had never seen the letters. Never thought about them.
    Never written back.
    I can’t watch him cut up my gown. It’s too frightening, so I squeeze my eyes shut. I know he’s looking at me. The air is hitting my thighs and belly. I’m typically shy. No one has ever seen this much of me.
    His slipknots on my wrists are perfectly tied, so that the more I move, the tighter they get.
    I don’t recognize the pattern