Heroes: Supers of Project 12: Reverse Harem Heroes

by Angel Lawson

  Owen’s jaw drops for a brief moment before he recovers. “Are you breaking up with us?”

  “No!” She cries. “I’m just confused. Are you confused?”

  Draco shakes his head. “Not in the slightest.”

  Quinn works his jaw and says, “Nope.”

  Owen rubs his chin. “Absolutely, fucking, not confused at all.”

  Cedric sighs. “If you think you’re going to ditch us, we’re going to have to get a therapist or something. Like Superhero family counseling, because four of the five of us are a hard no.”

  Astrid swallows. “I just thought that after all that you may want to explore other options.”

  Slowly they’ve crowded around her, she feels their heat, their strength. Fingers touch her hair, a hand lands on her hip, a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

  “That bond?” Quinn says, “The one that brought us together? It’s still with us, Astrid, even if the fight is over.”

  A thrill runs up her spine.

  “Do you really think the corruption in this city is over? That the gangs are off the streets? The criminals are gone?” Draco asks.

  “No, but…”

  “There’s no but, Astrid,” Owen says. “This thing we’ve got? It’s not going away. We’re not going away.”

  She looks at each one of them, sees the love in their eyes, feels it in her heart.

  “So, we’re good?” she asks, trying to figure out where the doubt had even come from. Exhaustion, most likely.

  “Better than good,” Cedric says. “And Draco’s right. I have a long list of criminals we need to keep an eye on. That dark web shit is for real.”

  That’s when it hits her. She wasn’t confused about these men. No. She was just lost without a purpose. But they’re right, evil will always exist. They may not even be the only ones with powers out there.

  “So we keep working?” she says.

  “In the gym,” Quinn says.

  “On the web,” Cedric adds.

  Draco nods. “In the business community.”

  “And in the bedroom,” Owen says with a cheeky grin. “Because I’ll be there when you’re ready.”

  “Dude, you did not just say that,” Quinn chides.

  Draco shakes his head and picks up the boxing gloves on the ground before walking off in disgust.

  “You have one hand,” Cedric says, “How much pleasure can you give a girl with one hand?”

  “As much pleasure as I can get from kicking your ass with one hand,” he growls and the two start circling.

  Even though she shouldn’t, Astrid laughs, and Quinn tosses his arm around her shoulder. She leans in.

  “Do you think they knew about this?” Astrid asks.

  “Who?”

  “Atticus and Holden. Do you think they knew we could build a family like this?”

  He thought about it for a minute. “They probably knew we needed each other—although I doubt Atticus knew about the sex part.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, probably not.”

  “I do think they’d be happy to know we found one another. I really do.”

  She smiles, feeling the tug of loss and love in her chest. She may have lost her father and mentor, but she gained so much more. Astrid gives Quinn a kiss in the cheek. “Me too.”

  Epilogue

  The fresh-churned soil, balloons, banners, and bright, sunny day make Astrid feel like she’s entered an alternate reality. Days ago, this was a warzone. Now? The future is coming to the Swamp.

  “Stop,” Owen says. He looks handsome in his green leathers, face obscured by his mask.

  “I’m not doing anything,” she claims.

  “You’re stressing out,” Quinn adds, squeezing her hand. “It’s for the best. The community will be better this way.”

  “He’s right,” Cedric says. “Crescent Homes should have been razed decades ago. The rebuild looks amazing. New apartments, playgrounds, community center with programs for all ages. Jensen outdid himself.”

  Jensen stands under an archway made of red and blue balloons, speaking with reporters. She doesn’t know if it’s out of guilt, retribution or what, but like Cedric said, he’d outdone himself with the Swamp revitalization project. He looks up and gives her a proud smile.

  The wall surrounding the community is still there, but it’s no longer gray and oppressive. Luby has spent the last few months working on his own project—approved by the city and with the help of a selected crew of artists. It’s bright, cheerful, and uniquely him. He’s talking to his own group of reporters and can’t keep the smile off his face.

  Astrid and her team are across from the spectacle, waiting on the rooftop of a nearby building. They’re each dressed in their Supersuits. Their identities are still something of a secret to the community at large. The mayor wants to thank them publicly for their actions during Rowe’s siege, and asked them to be at the ground-breaking for the new Crescent Homes.

  The rooftop door opens and Draco appears, tugging on his mask. “Working double duty today?” Quinn asks.

  “WIND-E has donated a considerable amount of money to the healthcare facility being built. The press wanted to talk to me about it.” Draco still oversees the corporation. Demetria, from her cottage on the island, requested it. “But we all play multiple roles in this city. Mine just requires a suit and tie.”

  “You look good in a suit and tie,” she tells him. God, all she wants is to be back at the house with them, eating doughnuts and playing video games. This—the attention, the reporters, everything about it—is painful.

  Working through the pain of everything that happened has been as difficult as her physical healing. She longs for normalcy but is that even possible? Astrid eyes each of her men; they’re dressed up in costumes. They’re all in love with her and she with them. They fight crime and make love.

  No, nothing about this is normal at all.

  And that’s okay because she isn’t normal. She’s a fucking empath. And these guys? They are totally not normal. Not their powers or muscles or heroism or the way they love her with the ferocity of a thousand suns.

  “You okay?” Draco asks, watching her watch them. All four of them stop and face her.

  She thinks about everything they’ve been through. The pain, the death, the battles. The love, the lust, the commitment. Astrid has no idea what will happen in the future, but she does know the bond she has with these men is unbreakable and the future looks brighter than ever.

  That’s too much to say though, and she can’t start crying before accepting her gold medal from the Mayor—that is totally un-superheroey. Instead she just kisses them all, one at a time, and says, “You know what? I think I am.”

  To keep up with Angel for fun, entertainment and exclusive book updates please join, Angel’s Antics, on Facebook! This is the final book in this part of the Super’s series. I am hoping to send these incredible characters on new adventures at some point but for now I’m wrapping it up here!

  My next release will be in mid July 2018 with the second book in the Allendale Four series! Can’t wait to share! For information on my other books, check out Amazon.

  FYI: I’ve added an excerpt for my NON-reverse harem book, Vigilant. If you liked the Super’s series I think you’ll be into this one too! Scroll down!

  Vigilant

  What kind of person robbed a hardware store?

  That was Ari’s first thought as she lay on the cold dirty floor. Her second was to keep her eyes down and away from the armed robbers.

  The linoleum floor felt cool under Ari’s cheek. Once white, it now had a filthy, grayish tint. She tried not to think about the last time it had been cleaned. Not that that was her big worry at the moment, anyway. She focused on the men running through the store, shouting orders and making demands.

  Ari took a deep breath, exhaling hot air across the slick floor, producing a light sheen of fog. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. Ari spent her days working with the crimina
ls of this city, and now, on her day off, she walked into the middle of an armed robbery at her neighborhood hardware store. It was only a matter of time before she became a victim to Glory City’s incredibly high crime rate. Again.

  A noise nearby reminded her that she wasn’t alone in her position on the floor. She looked at the customer closest to her. His panicked eyes darted around, while he clutched a silver wrench in his hand. Great, she thought, this guy was going to get killed over a leaky pipe.

  She’d been shopping in the tool aisle, looking for a Phillips head screwdriver, when the armed robbers burst through the front door, yelling and making demands. Like everyone else, she dropped to the floor, never looking back at the men, because if working with a full caseload of juvenile delinquents had taught her anything, it was to never be able to identify an attacker. Instead, she put her head down, allowing her short hair to obscure her face, and she listened to the robbers demand money from shoppers.

  They roamed the aisles. Well, at least some of the aisles. Multiple voices had shouted when they’d entered the store and Ari had caught a glimpse of at least two guys. At the moment, though, it seemed clear there were more than that. She heard two across the store fighting with an employee while at least two others trolled through the aisles.

  “Give me your wallet.”

  “Here…take it…” said a trembling voice on the other side of the shelf.

  Ari heard feet shuffling and raised voices near the counter. The cashier cried out, something about not having a key to the safe. A loud thwack echoed through the store. Ari flinched at the sound of metal against flesh.

  As the struggle continued over the locked safe, the other men patrolled the rows of hardware, stopping at each customer asking for their money and jewelry. The escalation in violence kick-started Ari’s heart and she began to panic, too. As the men came closer to her row, she looked at the antique diamond ring on her right hand, and with a resolved ‘hell no’ under her breath, slipped the ring off her finger and shoved it in her mouth, pushing it into her cheek with her tongue.

  She nudged her purse in front of her face. They could take her money—the little bit that was in there. She just wanted to get out of here alive. For five years Ari worked as a caseworker for Glory City. The job had taught her several things: always pay attention; never turn her back, not even for a minute; and always wear shoes she can run in. She flexed her toes in her black leather boots and cursed the blind spot she had from her position on the floor. Congratulations Ari, at least you have two of the three…

  Her self-congratulatory thoughts dissipated and her heartbeat quickened as the footsteps came closer to her row. She glanced up and caught sight of the stocking cap and shaggy hair hanging out from underneath. She knew that kid. Jace Watkins. He wasn’t on her caseload but he’d been in the office. He had a reputation and Ari could have sworn he’d been remanded over to the adult system and had been in prison. Obviously not, because he was definitely one of the robbers. He turned his head, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked.

  Crap.

  She’d broken rule one.

  Trying not to freak, Ari braced herself for Jace’s approach, running her tongue along her grandmother’s ring for confidence and pressing her palms flat against the floor. Maybe he didn’t recognize her.

  That thought was short-lived as a pair of boots kicked her bag aside and warm, calloused hands wrapped around her mouth. Another hand grabbed onto the waist of her jeans from behind. Ari’s body slid across the floor backwards. She fought back, twisting and kicking, trying to make contact. Whoever had their hands on her was too strong and very fast.

  The four rules Ari just thought about vanished because there was one rule that trumped all the others.

  Never get moved to a second location.

  Past the point of panic, Ari bit the inside of her attacker’s palm. He cursed but didn’t move his hand. She heard a low whisper in her ear, “Trust me.”

  “Screw you!” Ari yelled, or tried to, into his hand.

  A commotion across the store made Ari jerk her head in that direction. Four guys ran through in baseball caps and sunglasses. Jace held a gun to an elderly man’s head and asked him for keys to the office.

  Four? The guy who had her was a fifth. Not one she’d counted before and not one seeming to work in conjunction with the others.

  Her abductor stopped at the back of the store and hoisted her against his chest. Ari’s mouth was still covered, but she watched as his free hand covered the door handle. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he twisted it and again, she noticed how strong he was. Her eyes widened as the knob stopped at the locking point, but he continued rotating until there was a sharp crack, breaking the metal off in his hand.

  He swung the door open and pushed her inside a small, cluttered closet, lit by a single blub hanging from the ceiling. Ari turned quickly, looking for an escape, but he had her blocked. Anger welled up inside her chest, surpassing the fear. But, instead of a gun-wielding criminal, Ari found herself face-to-face with him.

  He wore a baseball cap under a thick, black hooded sweatshirt. The brim shaded much of his face and Ari couldn’t see his eyes. All the same, she knew it was him. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing muscular brown arms and on his left wrist she saw a blur of letters tattooed in dark ink.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, working around the ring in her mouth. She spit it into her palm. He ignored her and started to leave. Ari realized he was going back out to the front of the store.

  “Hey,” she said, gripping his arm.

  He turned sharply and put a finger to his lips. She looked up at his eyes, which were shadowed completely by the bill of his cap. Despite the obscurity, she was mesmerized by the intensity and control brimming from within, and Ari found herself nodding, willing to do whatever he asked her.

  “Don’t leave until the police get here,” he said in a gruff voice. He closed the door, leaving only a sliver of light between it and the frame. Ari pressed her back against a wall, catching her breath.

  Within moments, Ari heard a loud smashing sound. Shelving? The shouting increased, and the distinct sound of grunts and curses exploded from the other side of the door. Someone was getting their butt kicked for sure; she just hoped it was the bad guys. Ari listened to the fight, wincing here and there as fists landed on flesh and objects toppled over. The inside of the closet felt increasingly stuffy and hot. Sweat pooled at her lower back from nerves, heat, and the mere fact that she couldn’t see what was going on outside.

  She should’ve been scared, but she wasn’t. He was a legend, a myth. Even though she’d never laid eyes on him before, she knew. It was him. Although there were documented accounts of his existence, there was no solid proof. Ari now knew the truth. He was real.

  He didn’t have a name. Well, obviously he did, but not publicly. He was that guy who walked in the shadows and appeared in the nick of time. He saved drowning babies and appeared out of nowhere to help those in need. He was on the playground when the bad guys tried to sneak away with other people’s kids. He was like Batman or Superman or The Green Arrow, but not the made-up fantasies of men who never grew up and who sketched their heroes into comic books. He was real, and he’d just saved Ari from four armed gunmen.

  He was the Glory City Vigilante.

  Ari sat in the familiar office waiting on Detective Bryson. Nothing much had changed since the last time she was there four years earlier, except the pictures of his wife now included two children.

  She’d given her statement at the robbery, claiming to have hidden in the closet while the men ransacked the store. She lied in her report, not including any information about the mystery guy singling her out. She wondered if this was why Bryson had asked her to come to the station, or if it was about her parents. He hadn’t said.

  “Thanks for waiting,” Detective Bryson said, closing the door behind him. They met when she was 21, when he showed up at her apartment, grim and bearing ba
d news. “How have you been?”

  “Pretty good,” she answered. “Busy with work.”

  He sat behind his desk, shuffling some papers around. When he looked up, he frowned and said, “You cut your hair.”

  Ari ran her hand over her short hair. The last time she saw him, her hair went halfway down her back. Now it was short, other than the long pieces she tucked behind her ear. “Spontaneous decision,” she said.

  “It looks nice.”

  They looked at one another over the top of the desk. Detective Bryson had rich brown skin and pretty, grayish eyes. She barely knew this man at all but he’d seen her at her worst. “So,” she said. “Any particular reason you called me down here?”

  “I’ve been assigned to this robbery you witnessed and wanted to ask you some follow-up questions.”

  Ari breathed a sigh of relief. Not about her parents. That had been put to rest. She saw no need to open that wound again. Good. “Sure, how can I help you?”

  “The report says you didn’t see the guy that stopped the robbery.”

  “The mystery man?” Her face reddened when she said the made-up name out loud. “That’s what I call him. You know, since no one knows who he is.” Ari took a deep breath. “No, I didn’t see him. I wasn’t aware there was anyone in the store other than the robbers and the customers.”

  “He disabled three of the men, but one got away.”

  “Jace Watkins. I recognized him from our office.”

  “Do you think this ‘mystery guy’ would have let him go for some reason?”

  Ari frowned. “Why would he let him go? Isn’t that kind of his thing? Stopping bad guys?”

  “That seems to be his motive but between us, we don’t know what this guy is up to. It’s important for us to cover all angles and get him off the street. Vigilantism is never a good thing. Unfortunately, he’s as much of a suspect as the other men.”

  Ari was as pro-police as a person could get, but she didn’t agree about the mystery guy. He seemed to do what the police couldn’t. They had rules and procedures that kept them from catching criminals without wading through a pile of bureaucracy first. Regardless, she kept this opinion to herself. “Well, I didn’t see anything, promise. Once I saw Jace, I hid. I’d worried what would happen if he’d recognized me.”