by S D Rogue
I Don’t Date
Superheroes
Book One of the Paladin Romance Series
S.D. Rogue
www.PaladinBook.com
SD Publications
Anaheim, California
Copyright © 2020 by S.D. Rogue.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Book Two?
For D, who knows why.
Pal·a·din (noun):
A knight renowned for heroism and chivalry.
Chapter One
“L
ooks like someone is finally up,” Hana said, walking into the room of her only patient, Bashir.
Bashir put down his magazine, revealing his swollen eye. He looked at Hana, annoyed. “Why’d it take someone so long to come in here?”
She did her best to ignore his attitude. She was used to it. Her normal day was filled with doing physical therapy and training with what most people would call “superheroes”. She knew them by the name the agency gave them: Paladins. That’s what everyone at the agency called them. It was a reference to the name given to the 12 knights of Charlemagne—figures known for both their heroism and chivalry.
Abilities aside, there was not a lot super about them. They could be moody, cocky, and tended to think lesser of people. But they also saved the world, which made Hana overlook their flaws.
“Like I was saying,” Hana began as she pulled back her long black hair and putting on a pair of latex gloves, “you were asleep the last time I checked on you.”
“Wake me next time,” Bashir pouted.
“You need your rest,” she said, pulling back the thin sheet and revealing his bare legs. There was a large wound in his right thigh, and she began removing the bandage to replace the dressing.
“Can I leave today?”
“You just got here this morning. You weren’t even conscience. You have a broken ankle and arm. Cuts everywhere. And you look terrible.” She lied about the terrible part. Paladins were definitely not her type, but she wasn’t one to deny the beauty of a well-built man. Like every other Paladin in the academy, Bashir spent a good part of his day working out and he had the figure to show for it.
“I heal quick,” Bashir said, scratching at his beard. He hadn’t shaved or showered in a week.
He wasn’t kidding about healing, Hana thought as she inspected him. She had changed his dressing four hours ago when he was sleeping and the wound was almost gone. His ability was speed. Hana had figured that meant physical speed—outrunning anyone else—but looking at the wounds on his body, she knew that also meant he could heal quicker than anyone she had ever seen.
“Can’t you just curl up to a good book and enjoy the mini vacation?” Hana asked, putting a new bandage over him.
Bashir ignored her and started sitting up in bed. The palm of Hana’s hand forcefully stopped him. She was stronger than her figure gave her credit for, and he looked at her surprised. She caught his look and offered, “I spent four years in the Army.” She pushed him back down. “Paladins aren’t the only ones that work out.”
“Can I at least use the bathroom and take a shower?”
Hana’s eyes looked down towards his mid-region as she explained, “You have a catheter and, in case you didn’t notice, I gave you a sponge bath earlier today. That’s going to have to do until your doctor gives you the okay to do more.”
Bashir closed his eyes and sighed as he ran his fingers through his jet black hair. When he opened them again, she was replacing the catheter bag. He noticed for the first time that she didn’t look like a nurse—she wore a black blouse and dark slacks. His senses were off, and he wondered how much medication he was on.
“What’d you do in the Army?”
“18D Medic,” she said shortly as she went to a cabinet against the wall and began pulling out medicine.
“Special Forces?” Bashir questioned, surprised. 18D were highly trained combat medics that served in the Special Forces. The training for the program is the toughest in the Army.
“Yeah.” She didn’t like talking about her service. Most people would give her the “but you’re a girl” stare; she spent years trying to accept the double standard—getting that stare while her male counterparts were asked in excitement to relive some combat story. She had yet to meet a man who had been able to accept that she was tougher than he was, and, at least for now, she had given up on dating to focus on her career.
“I’m surprised.”
Hana tried to remain professional as she prepared to hear him explain why it’s so shocking that a woman could do something physically hard. “Not all women are damsels in distress,” Hana said, annoyed before he had a chance to comment.
He looked at her confused, then changed his tone as he realized what he had said. “I’m not surprised that you were in the Special Forces. I’m surprised that you’re here. You’re young—you go through a training that intense and you usually stay in it for life.”
Now Hana was the one surprised. Putting medicine in his IV, she explained “It’s a long story—let’s just say I was recruited for this job and I couldn’t resist.”
Bashir smiled. “You’re surrounded by superheroes all day—how could you resist?”
Hana rolled her eyes and thought, Here comes the cocky part. “That part is pretty easy to resist.” She turned and started to walk out. “Get some rest.”
###
Hana stood to the side of the gym as she watched Samuel do sprints back and forth from one side of a basketball court to the other. His shoulder length curly hair danced across his face as he pushed himself to go faster and harder.
Paladins came in all different forms; most had abilities that were easy to see. Then there were people like Samuel, whose abilities were more on the inside. His powers let him mentally locate anyone.
His ability made him an asset to the agency for finding targets but not someone they would send into
the field. He had been injured two months prior in Israel. He was visiting his family when the balcony of their second story apartment collapsed.
Unlike Hana’s other clients, Samuel was the only one who was trying to recover from an injury not sustained in the field.
“That’s enough for today.” Hana called.
He took one more sprint across the court, then ran to Hana. His blue eyes sparkled as he looked up at her hopefully while wiping sweat from his brow. “I think I’m almost there,” he said, a little out of breath.
Hana tossed him a hand towel and said as he wiped his face, “I’m going to recommend you be cleared for action.”
His curiosity was piqued. “Does that mean I get to buy you drinks to thank you?”
Hana smiled and politely replied, “I don’t go out with people I work with.” It wasn’t the first time a patient who had finished therapy had asked her out. It definitely wouldn’t be the last. But Hana had been there, done that and swore never to do it again. Samuel was sweeter than most of the Paladins, but even the sweet ones came off as too needy.
“Who said anything about going out?” Samuel asked with a cocky charm every Paladin somehow had in their DNA. “It’s two friends going out to celebrate an achievement.”
She had heard that reply before too. The first time she had fallen for it, and it turned out disastrous. “I have a busy schedule, but good luck to you—you’ve come a long way.” Before he could counter, Hana had turned and was out the door.
###
A paper was sticking out of Hana’s locker at the end of her shift; she pulled it out and smiled at the cartoon drawing. It was a caricature of her shooting fire from her hands at a Paladin.
“I knew it would make you smile,” a man said walking up behind her.
“You remembered my secret superpower, Frank,” she said, turning towards him. Frank was one of her only friends at work, partly because he was one of the few people she consistently saw. People at the agency tended to come and go. The Paladins would train for weeks at the base, but then they’d only return for brief periods after missions. It was just Hana, Frank and a handful of others that worked regularly in the building. The others tended to keep to themselves in offices on the second floor which Hana rarely ventured onto.
She had told Frank several weeks ago that if she had a superpower, she’d want it to be fire.
“Of course I remembered.” He paused, pushing his thick black glasses up and asked awkwardly, “So I have an extra ticket to Sufjan Stevens in San Diego on Saturday. Interested?”
“Oh, no!” Hana said, knowing he had been planning a concert date for a month with a man he met on a dating website. He dated about as much as she did, which is to say never. So it was a big step when he told her he had worked up the courage to ask someone out. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you over dinner. What do you say? We could both use a break.”
“Tequilas on me?”
“Damn straight, girl.”
“It’s a date.”
“Why can’t you be a guy?” Frank teased.
“How about when we get old enough that the sex stuff doesn’t matter, then we’ll get married?”
“For sure—but do you really think you’ll make it to 90?”
“A girl can dream.” She pulled her denim jacket from her locker and looked towards the exit. “You heading out?”
He nodded. “I have some designs to go over. It’s been sort of a long day.”
“Sorry.” Hana didn’t completely know what Frank did for the agency. No one really shared job details. From what she had gathered from the small tidbits that he gave now and then,, she figured he was some kind of weapons engineer. “Text me the details for the concert later.”
Hana left the locker room, passed the gym and basketball court, waved to the guards at reception, and stepped into the darkness outside. It was always a weird sensation. The building had no windows, but they used lightening and sensory elements to make it always feel like day. It was only when Hana was outside that she remembered that it was almost 10pm.
The Enhanced Humans Agency (EHA) headquarters was on the far north side of Camp Pendleton, a few minutes past Lake O’Neill. As she drove her Subaru Outback down the lonely road off the base, she felt like exactly what she was: a ghost. The CIA, NSA and even the Special Forces operated in a veil of secrecy, but people still new they existed. The EHA operated off a dark dirt road in a windowless building in a part of Pendleton no one ever ventured into or even knew about.
When she was in the Special Forces, it was a community. Her family knew she was off in dangerous regions of the world in harm’s way; they knew she was doing something important. They didn’t know all the details, but they knew what she was doing mattered. Now, for the sake of family and paperwork, she was just an Army medic. The reality was she didn’t even work for the government—the EHA was a private entity operated by a global oversight committee. Even if she had someone to go home to, she wouldn’t be able to talk to them about what she did—about the things that mattered.
Hana sighed as she rolled down her window and let in the ocean breeze. As she exited the base, most of the restaurants were closed or closing, and she made her way to her late-night favorite, the Harbor House Cafe. It was open until 2am and right off Coast Highway, just a block from her studio apartment. Her order was always the same: country gravy on toast with hash browns—and always to go.
Hana’s studio was steps from the beach. She rented it from an elderly widow who owned a house on the same property. She charged Hana $900 a month—much cheaper than it should have been. The woman didn’t need money; she just wanted someone who was quiet and would do odd chores around her house, and Hana fit that bill. As a bonus, the woman would cook her dinner or order takeout at least once a week if Hana agreed to stay after and watch a cheesy romance.
When Hana first enlisted, she worked hard to be “one of the boys”. She was a frequent visitor to bars, and the idea of being in bed with a book on a weeknight didn’t fit her MO. Now it was all Hana dreamed about. She had spent enough nights with loud music and dancing, and now she just wanted to come home to a quiet, empty house.
She put her dinner in the oven and went immediately for the shower. When she came back into the kitchen in a white terrycloth robe and towel over her head, she felt a breeze; she knew immediately that something wasn’t right. Right as she realized the window was shattered and there was a forced entry, a hand covered her mouth.
“Hana, it’s Bashir,” came a calm voice from behind. “I am not going to hurt you. I’m in trouble. I need your help. Nod when you understand.”
Hana nodded. She turned and saw Bashir looking helplessly at her. “Ever heard of a doorbell?” she asked, annoyed.
“I don’t have a lot of time to explain,” he said, motioning to the couch.
Chapter Two
“S
o you want coffee or something?” Hana asked, making the strap on her robe tighter. Bashir had taken a seat on the couch, and Hana stood in front of him, still not sure what was going on. He was out of his hospital gown and wearing a black t-shirt and tight fitted jeans. The swelling on his eye was almost gone, and he walked like he had no injury. His beard was still long, but his thick black hair was now combed. He may have broken out the hospital, but he certainly didn’t leave in a huge hurry.
“I’m not really a coffee guy,” he said. “I prefer to get my energy naturally.”
“Of course you do,” Hana replied, adding sarcastically, “So are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do you just want to cuddle and watch a movie?”
Bashir reclined slightly and said, “Actually a movie sounds nice—what were you thinking?”
Hana looked at him, annoyed. Typical Paladin.
“I was just trying to ease the tension.” He smiled and looked at her robe. “Do you want to change or something?”
She did, in fact, want to change. She wa
s wearing nothing under her robe and felt more than a little vulnerable standing in front of a Paladin who had broken into her house while she was taking a shower. But she wasn’t about to change until she knew what was going on. She crossed her arms and said, irritated, “You break into my house and tell me you don’t have a lot of time to explain and now you suddenly are making yourself at home and want to Netflix and chill?”
“You’re right.” Bashir held his hand to her.
She flinched as his hand touched her.
“Relax,” he said. “I know how this seems—and you have every right to be pissed right now. Just sit—I’ll tell you what I know.”
Hana held her robe tightly closed as she reluctantly took a place next to him, keeping several inches between them.
“I’m still putting the pieces together myself,” Bashir slowly explained, rubbing his fingers through his beard. “What I know is last night I was brought back to the base after an attack. I’ve been with the agency long enough to see my share of action, but this was different. They knew too much about our position. And now—I don’t know, I just don’t feel quite right. I’ve been hurt before, but this time it’s taking longer to heal.”
Hana looked at Bashir blankly. This is why he broke into my house? “That all sounds convincing,” Hana said doubtfully.
Bashir sat straighter and became tense. “Things have been things happening for weeks now—it’s hard to explain everything; like I said, I’m trying to piece it all together still. But what happened before I was brought in—the mission—it wasn’t a surprise attack; it was an assassination attempt from the inside. The mission was too simple—we were just providing extra security to a diplomat.”
“That doesn’t exactly add up to inside job, Bashir.”
“It’s more than that. I…” Before he could continue, Hana’s hand covered his mouth. He looked at her confused and started to move it away, but before he could, Hana leaped forward, grabbed Bashir’s shoulders and forcefully pulled him from the couch onto the ground. The moment they hit the floor, the lights went off and he saw a smoke grenade come flying through the window; seconds later smoke began filling the room.
