“Could be.” I tapped the lobby button behind him. “Their version of the Agency had different rules, different ways of keeping supers under control.”
“And your thoughts are…”
I stepped back and flexed my arm, striking a Rosie the Riveter pose. “Bring it on.”
“Now that’s the Jo I know and love.” He laughed. “The bad guys better run for cover ’cause the Protectors are on the move.”
The doors slid shut.
“It never stops, does it?” I took his hand and held it tight. “The fun and the danger.”
“Can’t have one without the other.” Hunter turned and faced me, taking my other hand. He lifted it to his mouth and skimmed the skin. “But say the word and we’ll disappear, go away from it all. Let the world save itself.”
“You’re not serious.”
“No one would blame you, Jo.” He locked eyes with me. “If you want to vanish, we can do it. Go underground like all those other supers, find a nice little home somewhere in a small town like Kensington Grove.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “Maybe open up a used bookstore.”
I pressed my lips together, weighing the offer. “Not yet. Maybe one day, but there’s a lot of work left to be done.”
He nodded, giving me a playful wink. “A few more days at the back of the bus won’t hurt.”
“Don’t get used to it. I know David said something about putting in my own private bedroom downstairs, but I can promise you it won’t be soundproofed.” I pointed at the ceiling. “Or impact proofed.”
The elevator doors slid open.
“Hey, I’m a healthy young man.” He squeezed my hand. “And I have to keep an eye on those bruises, make sure they’re healing. David’ll kill me if I return you to Toronto in any condition other than fully rested and satisfied.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So the best way to do that is to keep me naked and fed in bed?”
He shrugged. “Can’t fault my technique.”
I stopped and rose on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Hasn’t failed you yet.”
We walked into the empty lobby. Through the glass doors I spotted Peter and Rachael laughing as she tried to keep pace with a hawk. He stood in the driveway as the pair rushed around the bus and around him, pumping his fist in the air as Rachael overtook the bird for the final lap.
She giggled as she landed at his side and hugged him. The hawk set down on Peter’s shoulder, giving the pair a cold, steady eye.
Steve and Harris sat on the steps of the bus with cans of beer in their hands and laughing at each other’s dirty jokes.
Harris ran one hand over the new growth on his face, the eyebrows starting to cover the worst of the burn scars. He looked like he’d spent too much time on the beach staring into the sun.
Steve leaned over and rubbed Harris’s freshly shaved head, making another crude comment. They both glanced over at us and broke into another burst of laughter.
“What a bunch of misfits.” I shook my head. “Who the hell thought of putting a bunch of second- and third-grade supers together into a team?”
“You did.” Hunter smirked, opening the door.
“Damn it, you’re right.” I let out an exaggerated sigh as we walked towards the bus. “Guess we’ll have to make the best of it.”
“We already have.” He took my hand again and squeezed it.
Bill spotted us through the open door and touched the brim of his cap, smiling. He folded up the newspaper and tucked it to one side before putting his hands back on the steering wheel.
“Ready to go home?” Hunter asked.
“Ready to save the world.” I took a deep breath and smiled. “With you at my side, I can do anything.”
Hunter turned to me, and for a second I thought I saw a tear in the corner of his eye. It mutated into a snarky grin.
“Anything?”
I rolled my eyes dramatically and tugged him towards the bus. “Come on, Lucky. We’ll negotiate on the way to the casino.”
We strode out of the building, not looking behind us.
“Now.” Hunter’s hand moved around my waist again, pulling me to him. “About those tiny character flaws. Would any of them involve leather?”
Author’s Note
The technique Hunter discusses and what Jo uses to clear a route through the flames has a basis in fact. An article in Popular Science in 2011 detailed how research is being done to use electromagnetic waves to douse flames without using foam or water.
As in all superhero things, the truth is often stranger than fiction.
About the Author
Sheryl Nantus was born in Montreal, Canada and grew up in Toronto, Canada. A rabid reader almost from birth, she attended Sheridan College in Oakville, graduating in 1984 with a diploma in Media Arts Writing.
During her fifteen years of working in private security, she was stationed at the United States Consulate in Toronto as well as many hospitals in the Greater Toronto Area. Needless to say, she saw a lot of interesting things and people from which she draws her characters and situations in her speculative fiction writing.
She met Martin Nantus through the online fanfiction community in 1993 and moved to the United States in 2000 in order to marry. A firm believer in the healing properties of peppermint and chai tea, she continues to write short stories, poetry and novels while searching for the perfect cuppa.
To learn more, please visit www.sherylnantus.com.
Look for these titles by Sheryl Nantus
Now Available:
Wild Cards and Iron Horses
Blaze of Glory
Blaze of Glory
Heroes Without, Monsters Within
She could resist this bad boy…if he wasn’t so darned good at it.
Superlovin’
© 2012 Vivi Andrews
A Midnight Justice Story
Darla Powers, a.k.a. DynaGirl, is the Jessica Rabbit of crime fighters, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy finding a date. When her latest ex opines she’s not helpless enough to make him feel manly, she flies off to take out her romantic frustrations on a villain dumb enough to pick tonight to break into a secret government vault.
Lucien Wroth’s father may be a famous supervillain, but Lucien doesn’t see himself as a bad guy. Just one determined to free his baby sister from a supercriminal’s clutches. He’s this close to getting his hands on a vital set of schematics when one sultry superheroine catches him elbow-deep in a top-secret safe.
Darla is horrified when Lucien’s pretty face—and bulging muscles—distract her enough to let him get away. No one escapes DynaGirl. But somewhere along the way to getting revenge for her public humiliation, she and Lucien become uneasy allies…resisting an all-too-easy attraction. Suddenly she suspects the perfect man for a good girl just might be a very bad boy.
Warning: This book contains heroes, villains, mind-games, epic battles, bustiers, leather, and an infamous “Women of the Cape” Maxim photo spread.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Superlovin’:
“You’ll never…escape,” she declared breathlessly, looking rather adorably determined laid out flat on the cement with rubble in her hair.
He would’ve laughed if he could spare the oxygen. “You don’t know how to…admit defeat, do you?” He couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. Deluded though it may be.
“What makes you…think I’m…defeated?”
“The inability to get a full sentence out without gulping for air is a tell, sweetheart,” he grunted, barely getting the sentence out himself without taking a gulp.
“I’d like to see you fly across the city twice in an hour, one of those times carrying a two-ton delinquent.”
He arched a brow. “I’m a big boy, but I’m not quite that big, princess.”
Her eyes narrowed at the suggestive lilt in his voice, pretty mouth pursing. “I was talking about the weight of your ego.”
“Then you must be constantly exhausted. How do you manage to lift yours, even with the sup
erstrength?”
She made a face at him. The darling of the press, always poised and perfect, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Which, perversely, just made him want to kiss her.
Not a bad idea, actually.
He needed something to distract her at the right moment, and nothing was likely to unsettle the Powers Princess more than one of the unwashed masses daring to lay his lips on her. And, yeah, he was a guy, so he’d pretty much wanted to lay one on her since she’d posed for Maxim’s Women of the Cape issue. He’d dreamt about that magazine—dark, steamy, grinding, Technicolor dreams with Miss Goody Two Shoes as their very naughty star. Those pillowy lips were an open invitation, far too wicked for someone so sanctimoniously pure.
Sadly, DynaGirl didn’t seem to be in the mood to play.
“What did you take?” she demanded. The very proper Miss Powers was like a freaking terrier when she set her mind to something. She shoved hard on his shoulder, rolling them over so she knelt straddling his stomach. He let her be on top. For now. Her gaze flicked down his body, searching for a spot he could’ve stashed the papers. “What did you go back for?”
Lucien kept half an ear out for the sound of the next train and conjured up a lazy grin. He let his gaze linger on the way the dark, stretchy fabric of her supersuit cupped the curve of her breasts. “Would you like to frisk me? Cuz I know I’d like it.”
“Knock it off. You’re caught. Give it up.”
“I’m caught, am I? How are you planning to get me back to that lovely holding cell? Flying didn’t work out so well for you last time.”
She reached to the belt on her hip, pulled out a phone, swiped a thumb across the touchpad without looking and held it up to her ear with a smugly triumphant smirk. A smirk which faded as she pulled it away from her ear to glare at the uncooperative device.
“No service?” he purred.
Thank God for the crappy reception of subway tunnels. His abilities were too far blown to handle the cavalry right now.
“I’ll fly you there if I have to,” DynaGirl declared, but the first waver of doubt edged her tone.
Supers could do superhuman things—hence the name—but there was only so far they could push themselves before they crashed with a power hangover that would bring the gods to their knees. Lucien was inches from his own breaking point and, from the tremor in her voice, it sounded like his tenacious little sex kitten of a nemesis was right there with him.
Which meant she was vulnerable. He just needed one more sprint. He could last a few more seconds before his brain exploded into white-hot agony. He had to. For Mirabelle.
He heard the distant electrical whine of a train coming down the tracks. Three minutes, give or take…
Lucien let the icy-hot pain starting to spike in his temples show on his face. “I could come quietly,” he said, making his voice tight with strain. “For a price.”
“I don’t negotiate with supervillains.”
“Not even for my surrender? My complete surrender.”
Interest lit her up-tilted emerald eyes, but her jaw remained clenched in an unyielding line. “No deals. I won’t bribe you to play nice when you’ve already lost.”
“But all I wanted was a kiss.”
She went motionless above him, as if she’d forgotten the need to breathe.
“One little kiss,” he purred. “And I’ll go meekly to my jail cell. No tricks. No trouble.”
He couldn’t read her expression. Something odd and almost hopeful colored the suspicion in her gaze. She hesitated. The train rattled closer. Her fingers eased their death grip on his hair.
“Why?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a shot at the great Darla Powers. Who hasn’t? That Maxim spread changed my life.”
Her eyes darkened. “That damn magazine—”
“Hey, don’t damn that magazine. I could compose sonnets to that magazine. Especially your issue. I think you single-handedly launched a generation of twelve-year-old boys into puberty with that spread.” The picture had become a cultural icon. Darla Powers, the super answer to Marilyn Monroe. “Tell me you still have the bustier and I’ll die happy.”
She blushed. “That is none of your business.”
Dear God, she still has it. Unwholesome interest stirred below Lucien’s belt. He’d been joking, but now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Her incredible figure overflowing the snug black lace with a shimmering red D curled under one breast in a parody of her suit. Maybe she still wore it. Maybe she put it on for the schmuck boyfriend who’d let her walk out on their date. Jealousy gave his gut an ugly twist, but he ignored it. She wasn’t with her schmuck boyfriend now.
“One kiss,” he said, the words coming out as more of a demand than he’d intended, his voice so dark and hungry he barely recognized it. “One kiss and I’ll do whatever you want.”
The words were supposed to be a lie, but at the moment he almost believed them himself. Darla Powers was a woman who could own a man’s soul if she put her mind to it. If she could let herself be that bad…
She leaned over him, and he sank his hand into the curls at the base of her skull. “C’mon, princess,” he coaxed, his gaze locked on her pillowy lips. “Even good girls get to be bad sometimes.”
She went rigid in his arms. “No. We don’t.”
The train was nearly there now. Ten seconds… Darla began to resist his hold, but Lucien had run out of time for persuasion. Now or never.
He sat up and twisted abruptly, using a pulse of superspeed to get her sprawled on her back before she realized negotiations were over. He caught her startled gasp on his lips.
The kiss was a sneak attack—quick and fierce and designed to startle and unsettle her. It wasn’t supposed to sear across his nerve endings with unexpected heat. He wasn’t supposed to be tempted to fall into the taste of her and abandon his will to fight. Soft, warm, luscious—the definition of a dangerous woman.
Her hands fell away from his hair, shoving at his shoulders without any real strength as she made the most deliciously wanton noise in her throat.
In a different world, he would stay here and finish what they’d started, explore this incendiary chemistry, coax that sound from her again and again. But she was still a hero and he’d long since been cast in the villain role. If he wanted any future for his sister, he couldn’t waste time playing doctor with DynaGirl.
The first train car thundered into the abandoned station.
He threw himself off her. “Sorry, princess.” The last of his reserves went into a surge of superspeed as he leapt onto the tracks and sprinted down the tunnel in front of the engine. The racing train sealed the tunnel entrance behind him before DynaGirl could gather herself to follow.
He didn’t have time to thrill at the victory of escape. He was too busy trying to maintain his speed until he reached the next platform so he didn’t end up a bloody smear on the tracks.
Lucien ran, his head slowly exploding, the stolen papers crinkling in his pocket with the sound of success, Darla’s taste still sweet on his lips.
No super deed goes unpunished…
Breaking Bad
© 2012 Jodi Redford
A Midnight Justice Story
It’s been twenty-five years since the last Light Guardian was wiped out. Or so it’s believed. Ruby Winston is about to blow the lid off that theory, even though it’ll bring every Shadow Czar minion down on her ass.
She’s always known she was different from the rest of the evil-dictators-in-training Winstons. Uncovering the secret half of her gene pool proves it. Now she’s out to bring down her late father’s mind-control soda empire—and break the Shadow Czars’ hold on Earth.
Problem is, becoming a superhero overnight isn’t as easy as it looks.
Teague Younger has his own secrets to keep: his heritage, and his fierce determination to exact revenge on his friend and mentor’s murderer. So far he’s kept his cover—until he’s forced to use his Light Guardian powe
rs to save Ruby from a sticky situation.
Thrust together and on the run, Teague and Ruby form a wary alliance as they desperately fight their circuit-blowing attraction. With an army of Shadow Queen minions hot on their tails, they might have a hard time surviving the night, much less ignoring their hearts.
Warning: This book contains mind-controlling beverages, evil dictators and minions, excessive use of spandex, and enough electrifying sex to melt an ice train.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Breaking Bad:
Teague stalked toward a cluster of scrub pines in the distance. He halted a good thirty yards back from the trees and waved his arm. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“But…we’re too far away.”
“You might not even get this close to the queen before she fries your ass.”
Her stomach clenched. Determined to prove to them both that she wasn’t entirely inept, Ruby lifted her shaking hands and directed a bolt toward the shrubs. The charge hit at least ten yards short, fizzling ineffectually into the parched dirt.
“Try it again.”
She repeated the maneuver, this time landing the strike even farther from the target. Embarrassment and defeat caved her chest.
“You’re not focusing.”
“I am. I’ve been aiming for that middle tree each try.”
“I’m not talking about outward focus.” He moved behind her. “It’s as much about the mental as physical. To properly handle your energy, you first need to understand it. Connect with it.” His warm, calloused palms glided along her arms, positioning them in a straight horizontal line. “This is the best way to ground yourself. The energy resides as much within your environment as it does inside you.” His fingertips grazed the sensitive undersides of her forearms, causing her to shiver in pleasure. “Do you feel the build-up starting?”
A sharp tingle shuttled through her clitoris. Oh yeah. She was definitely feeling something. Probably not what he’d been referring to though. “I—I’m not sure.”
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