The Bigtime Series (Bigtime superhero series, e-bundle)

by Jennifer Estep

  “Thank you, Devlin. You look very handsome as well.”

  He surprised me again by not stuttering or stammering. For a change. And then there was the fact he’d complimented me at all. I’d never known Devlin to pay too much attention to women or what they were wearing. Or for women to pay much attention to him. Most of the ladies on the society circuit fawned and drooled over the suave playboys. Devlin wasn’t one of them. Oh, he was handsome enough in his own right, but he didn’t have the polish of a Sam Sloane or Nate Norris, or the obscene wealth of a Berkley Brighton or Wesley Weston. In Bigtime, there was rich and handsome, and then there was super rich and super handsome. Devlin fell into the first of the two categories.

  We entered the dining room, and Devlin pulled out my chair. I flashed back to my time with Debonair and how he’d done the exact same thing. I sat down on the seat.

  And then, Devlin shoved me into the table.

  It wasn’t completely his fault. My luck decided to pulse at that exact moment, and the chair slid forward a foot more than it should have, pinning me against the table. The heavy wood dug into my breasts, knocking the air out of my lungs.

  “Oh! Sorry!” Devlin said.

  I scooted my chair back so I could actually breathe. “Don’t worry about it,” I wheezed.

  Devlin sat across from me, his cheeks red from his latest social fiasco. Grace settled in a chair next to him while Bobby took the one beside me.

  Bobby wanted to impress Grace, so he’d had dinner catered in from Quicke’s. Several elegant warming platters perched on the table, along with candles encased in hurricane lanterns and a cornucopia stuffed full of fresh fruit and fall leaves.

  Bobby removed the tops from the dishes, and I stared at the exposed food in alarm. Chicken Marsala topped with a boatload of Parmesan cheese, toasted garlic bread, a Caesar salad, fried eggplant and zucchini, broiled tomatoes, three bottles of red wine, and an angel food cake topped with strawberries and chocolate frosting. A heart attack waiting to happen, especially for Bobby.

  “Grandfather,” I said in a warning tone. “You know what the doctor says about your cholesterol and blood pressure. They’re both far too high for you to eat like this.”

  “Bah! Doctors, what do they know?” Bobby waved his hand. “Besides, we’re having guests tonight, Bella. We must make a good impression on them.”

  Guests. My grandfather used this same excuse whenever we had company, no matter who it was. He’d once served the cable guy a three-course meal just for installing a new soccer channel. The next day, when the plumber came, he’d gotten similar treatment. The gardener, the pool guy, the electrician. Every time the doorbell rang, Bobby was ready with food for everyone—and a substantial serving set aside for himself. Grandfather even insisted that Fiona was still company. He knew it was the only way he could get away with eating all the things he wanted to—none of which were good for him.

  I was tempted to use my power to make Bobby drop his fork or even his plate on the floor, but I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of Grace and Devlin. Besides, whenever I tried to use my power like that, I always ended up with egg on my face—literally. Luck was a lot like karma sometimes. So, I resisted the urge. But just barely.

  Bobby clapped his hands together. “Come! Let’s eat before it gets cold!”

  We dug into the hearty spread. Everything was just as wonderful as it looked. The chicken was fork-tender, the bread seasoned just so, and every bite of the cake was a little bit of heaven in my mouth. I’d have to spend two hours on the elliptical trainer tomorrow to burn off all the fat and calories, but it was worth a little sin tonight. I thought of Debonair. He would have approved of all this. Reveled in it.

  Dinner was quite pleasant, especially since I didn’t have to worry about floating wineglasses or other superpowered displays. Grace was as witty and charming as ever, in addition to being a good sport. She responded to my grandfather’s bawdy jokes with some of her own that were even more risqué. Maybe there was a little bit of steel underneath that soft, flowery façade after all.

  Devlin stayed quiet for most of the meal, as was his way, I supposed. I tried to engage him in conversation a couple of times, asking about DCQ, his business. Devlin answered my questions in monosyllables and stared at the half-eaten food on his plate. Every once in a while, I thought I saw him sneaking glances at me, but I couldn’t be sure. Besides, it wasn’t like there were a lot of people around the table to look at.

  An hour later, we pushed back our chairs. Grace tucked her arm into Bobby’s and whispered something into his ear. It might have been a trick of the light, but I thought my grandfather blushed. And he never did that. If one of them blushed, it should have been Grace. She was the sweet old lady in the relationship. My grandfather was the former hellion.

  “If you’ll excuse us, children, I’m going to take Grace on a tour of the house,” Bobby said. “We’ll be back in ten—”

  Grace put her heel into his instep.

  “Make that twenty minutes,” Bobby corrected. “Give or take a few. These old bones aren’t quite as quick as they used to be. Arthritis, you know.”

  I narrowed my eyes. My grandfather hadn’t looked like he was suffering from arthritis yesterday.

  Grace gave me an angelic smile, as though she hadn’t just crushed my grandfather’s foot—and wasn’t about to give him a heart attack with her sexual skills. Maybe the older woman had a little more hellion in her than I’d given her credit for. Maybe a lot more.

  The two of them moved down the hall and rounded a corner. A second later, feet pounded away, as though they were running. Probably racing toward Bobby’s bedroom, I thought in a petulant mood. At least someone was going to get lucky tonight. I’d been hoping Debonair would pop into the house again today, but I hadn’t seen—or smelled—the sexy thief.

  “They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?” Devlin murmured.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “It’s good to see Grams so happy.”

  “Grams?” I asked.

  “It’s my nickname for her.”

  “The two of you seem very close.”

  Devlin nodded. “My parents died in a boating accident when I was a kid. Grams took me in and raised me.”

  I reached over and squeezed his hand. “That must have been rough. My mother died when I was a child too. But I still had my father and grandfather, although my dad passed away earlier this year.”

  The pain of my mother’s loss was a familiar, small, dull ache. But it hurt to think about my father. I was still so angry with him for leaving us. For trying to be a hero. For putting that before everything else, including his family.

  “I remember,” Devlin said. “I came to the funeral.”

  “Did you? I’m sorry, but I don’t really remember that day.”

  It had passed in a painful, hazy blur of tears and sobs and sniffles.

  “You never called me after that,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You never called me, after the funeral.”

  I frowned, confused. “Was I supposed to?”

  Devlin tugged at his tie. “We went to dinner a couple of days before your father died. You, um, said you’d call me later in the week.”

  And I remembered. We’d been finishing up the details of an art auction we’d chaired together, and we’d gone to Quicke’s for dinner afterward. From what I remembered, the evening had been nice enough—until my cell phone rang. My dinner with Devlin hadn’t been a couple of days before my father had died—it had been the night he’d died. The night he’d been murdered.

  I’d been out with Devlin when Grandfather had called, worried he couldn’t find my father anywhere. For weeks after that, I’d beaten myself up—thinking I should have stayed home. Thinking I might have somehow saved my father or at least kept him from going out as Johnny Angel. That maybe even my luck would have kicked in and spared him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I completely forgot wit
h everything that happened.”

  “Forget it,” Devlin said. “It was silly of me to bring it up now.”

  We stood there, not quite looking at each other. I glanced at the angel-shaped clock on the wall. We had another seventeen minutes before Grandfather and Grace were supposed to come back from their rendezvous. What were we supposed to talk about until then? Even though we’d had dinner together, I barely knew Devlin. And why would he remind me now that I was supposed to have called him months ago? That was just weird.

  Thankfully, the businessman broke the silence.

  “Actually, I wanted to give you this before I forgot.” Devlin pulled a check out of the inside of his tuxedo. “Since the one at the benefit fell to pieces.”

  I took the piece of paper from him. Our fingers brushed, and a certain sort of warmth traveled up my fingertips that had nothing to do with static electricity or bad luck. At least, I didn’t think it did. I couldn’t be attracted to Devlin Dash, could I? Uncomfortable, I turned my gaze to the check, which had several zeroes on it.

  My eyes locked onto the signature. I froze, afraid my eyes were playing tricks on me. But they weren’t. Because no matter how many times I blinked, no matter how hard I squinted, it was still there. A big D with an illegible scrawl trailing along behind it. I’d seen that signature only once before. On a drawing I had smoothed out on the desk in my room.

  The drawing I’d done of Debonair.

  Debonair.

  Who was really Devlin Dash.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even form a coherent thought. I stared at the check, my eyes not really seeing it anymore.

  “Is something wrong?” Devlin asked in a concerned tone. “You look pale. Do you need to sit down?”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” I lied, snapping out of my daze. “I was just a little surprised by the, ah, amount of your donation. It’s very generous.”

  Devlin shrugged. “Not really. I’m sure twenty-five thousand dollars is just pocket change compared to what you raised at the benefit.”

  “Oh, no. Not at all. Besides, the museum will need every penny since it was damaged by that awful ubervillain.”

  Devlin fiddled with his glasses. “Of course. I read about that in the papers and saw it on SNN. It truly was a tragedy. I hope the police or the Fearless Five manage to catch the villain who’s responsible quickly.”

  He’d done more than just read about it or watch it on TV. He’d been there, right alongside me. I opened my mouth to call him on it, to demand some sort of explanation, when a voice wafted down the hall.

  “But why do you have to go now? I thought we were having a nice time,” Bobby said in a somewhat petulant tone.

  Our grandparents appeared. Some of Grace’s hair had come loose from its sleek do, and Bobby’s tie and shirt looked rumpled. I peered at him. Was that pink lipstick on his collar? My grandfather, the seducer. He was getting as bad as Debonair in his old age.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Grace held up a small cell phone. “I’m afraid I have an emergency. I need to leave immediately.”

  “What sort of emergency?” Devlin asked.

  She looked at her grandson. “A family emergency. Kelly’s sick and needs someone to come get her from work.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked. “I just saw her on the news this afternoon. She looked fine.”

  Kelly Caleb had also called me earlier in the day demanding an exclusive interview, along with the other news hounds. I’d refused them all.

  “Nothing serious. Just a case of the flu,” Grace said, her blue eyes not quite meeting mine. “But I want to go make sure she’s okay. I’m a bit of a worrier, especially when it comes to Kelly. The station works her to death, and her immune system isn’t what it should be.”

  I didn’t understand why Kelly couldn’t just have a cab take her home, but Grace’s plea must have meant something to Devlin, because he nodded his head in understanding. The two of them said their good-byes and left less than a minute later.

  “That was really weird,” I said, shaking my head and locking the door behind them. “Did you do something to upset her?”

  Bobby gave me an offended look and loosened his tie the rest of the way. “Of course not. We were having a very stimulating evening, if you must know. We were having a wonderful time—until her cell phone rang.”

  I thought of Johnny and Fiona. When the two of them were first dating, my brother used to complain about how Fiona’s cell phone would always ring at the worst possible moment. She always had to rush off to her store to take care of some emergency. Of course, there were no emergencies—not at her store anyway. The flimsy excuses had been part of her cover as Fiera, a member of the Fearless Five, and a way for her teammates to contact her if they needed her help.

  I wondered if Grace was doing the same thing. Using the phone as a way of swapping supersecret messages for Devlin—or even herself. I knew Devlin was Debonair, but who on earth could Grace Caleb be masquerading as? She didn’t strike me as the superhero type. Then again, neither had Devlin. And if Grace was a superhero, wouldn’t she be upset her grandson was on the other side of the law? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe she was an ubervillain herself. Or maybe she just didn’t know he was really Debonair. There were just too many maybes right now.

  I pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on my current crisis. “I’m actually glad they’re gone.”

  “Why? Don’t you like Grace?” Bobby’s face fell a little more.

  “Grace is just fine. But there’s a problem with her grandson. A big one.”

  * * *

  We went into the kitchen. Bobby sat down and listened while I told him my theory about Devlin Debonair Dash. He glanced at the check, then at the drawing I’d retrieved from my room.

  “The signature looks the same,” he admitted. “But are you sure, Bella?”

  I let out a long breath. “As sure as I can be right now. I’m going to get Carmen and Lulu to help me verify it in the morning.”

  “I see.” Bobby gave me a sidelong glance. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “What? Of course not.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Bah! You think these eyes are too old to see what’s right in front of them. But they’re not. You like this Debonair, don’t you? There’s no shame in it. From what I’ve seen and heard, he’s a handsome fellow. And Devlin seemed nice enough at dinner.”

  I never could get anything past my grandfather. So, I nodded. “In a weird way, I do. But things could never work out between us.”

  “Why not?”

  I looked at him. “You know why. I don’t like superheroes. I’m certainly not going to date one.”

  “Ah, Bella. When are you going to get over this dislike, this prejudice of yours? Superheroes and ubervillains are a part of our lives. They always have been, and they always will be. You should be proud to be a part of it, not ashamed.”

  If there was one sore subject between my grandfather and me, this was definitely it.

  “I’m not ashamed. I’m just tired of it,” I snapped. “Do you know how many nights I would lie awake and wonder if you and Dad were coming home? If I’d get up the next morning and read in the newspaper about how some ubervillains killed Johnny Angel? Do you know what that did to me? To my mother?”

  “Being Johnny Angel was something I had to do. Your father understood, and so did your mother,” Bobby said in a defensive tone.

  “Why?” I asked, getting defensive myself. “I never understood why you had to do it. You didn’t have any powers. You weren’t even a real superhero.”

  I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth.

  Grandfather’s face jerked, as though I’d slapped him. “I wasn’t a superhero, no. I couldn’t do fantastic things just by thinking about them. I wasn’t incredible in any way at all. But I was strong and brave and smart, and I helped people.” His green eyes glittered. “And t
hat was the most important thing.”

  “More important than keeping yourself safe for your family?” I snapped, hot tears gathering in my eyes.

  “Of course, I tried to keep myself safe for you. All of you. But helping others was something I had to do. Something I needed to do to be happy with myself. Someday you’ll understand,” Bobby said in a gentle tone.

  I turned my face away and didn’t answer. Grandfather rested his hand on my shoulder. I tensed at his touch.

  “Someday, you will, Bella,” he repeated. “Someday, you’ll understand why I did what I did. Why I became Johnny Angel. Your father too.”

  I wiped away my tears. I thought I’d cried all that I could after my father died, but the ghost of Johnny Angel just wouldn’t let me be. Not even now.

  Grandfather patted my shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but this old man needs his rest. Good night, Bella.”

  “Good night,” I whispered.

  Grandfather went off to sneak a cigar he thought I wouldn’t know about, and I slumped over the table. I left myself wallow in my misery and self-pity for a full minute before pulling myself back together.

  My eyes flicked around the kitchen. Dirty dishes and plates from dinner covered the countertops. I really should wash them tonight, especially the bowl with the remains of the Chicken Marsala. Otherwise, the stains would never come out. It was busywork, of course, but I needed something to do. Something else to think about besides Debonair and superheroes and my murdered father.

  I reached for the closest dish. My power flared, and the plate slid out of my fingers, clattered off the counter, and crashed onto the floor. The dish didn’t break, but pasta and sauce oozed over the tiles.

  Normally, I would have hurried to clean up the mess before it soaked in. Sauce can be a real bitch to get out. But the more I stared at the red goo, the angrier I got. It was bad enough the men in my family felt the need to parade around in black leather, but why did they have to involve me in their schemes? I’d never asked to be part of a superhero family, and I’d certainly never asked to be cursed with an uncontrollable power, one that aggravated me at every turn.