She took the marker back and winked. “Thanks, sugar.” With a shake in her walk, she headed back to her table.
Vigilante laughed, shrugging at me. “Weird. That never happens.” He grabbed his cup and took a drink, his eyes giving me a knowing look. “Are you jealous, Jenna?”
“W-what?” I sputtered. “Hardly. There’s nothing to be jealous about.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, and I felt the pull of our connection. I knew he could feel it, too, the way he was looking at me, into me. Then, someone walking by our table jostled against his arm, ending the spell. I could see the moment his shields moved back into place and he went back to being Vigilante, his eyes dark and unreadable. He took a swig of his coffee.
I broke eye contact and stared at the lip of my drink. This wasn’t the time to get into it, so I tried to lighten my tone to casual and fun. “Actually, this kind of thing happened to me just last week. I’m so tired of signing perky boobs, it’s not funny.”
He spewed part of his drink back into his cup, then wiped his mouth. “Don’t do that when I’m drinking,” he said, laughing hard.
When the hour was up I leapt out of my seat, clutching the beer cooler in my hand. “Oh, lookie there,” I said, glancing at my watch. “The car’s ready.”
I looked down in my cup—I’d not even had half of my coffee. I’d been so busy pretending to not be bothered by Vigilante’s hot/cold behavior and the other flirtatious women that I’d forgotten to drink. And now it was all nasty cold. Damn.
I dumped the cup in the trash and headed out, Vigilante right on my heels.We picked up the car and sped back to the office, where I faked a headache and begged for the rest of the day off. I think the miserable look on my face must have added credibility to the story, because Mason let me go.
Vigilante and I headed to the garage. He strapped the cooler onto the back of his motorcycle then hopped on. He turned to me, his face expectant. “Ready to head out?”
Oh, hell yes. The sight of him on that motorcycle had me ready to jump his bones, even when I was agitated at him. It was official—I was seriously messed up in the head.
I swallowed then shot him a huge fake smile. “Sure.” Slinging one leg over the bike, I pressed against his tight, firm back and put the helmet on.
He turned the motorcycle on. It hummed to life, sending smooth vibrations coursing through my body. But I think even without the motorcycle, Vigilante would have had my body humming.
* * *
The rest of the week was blessedly uneventful. I worked late, went back to Vigilante’s place to eat and crash, and started the cycle over again. But during that time I learned little scraps of information about him that only added to his appeal.
He told me his parents insisted he cultivate his special talents of super speed and flexibility. Which was surprising to me, as not all superheroes were treated this way as kids—even Amy. Our mom loved her, of course, but Amy wasn’t allowed to do any fire tricks around the house.
Not that I could blame Mom for it. I’m sure she didn’t want to buy a new house every six months because Amy scorched ours to the ground while throwing practice fireballs around.
Vigilante also showed me a couple of pictures of his parents he carried in his wallet. He resembled his dad closely in stature and looks. Except for the getup, of course. His dad was a true American superhero, decked out in red, white and blue.
Even his mom wore a blue spandex suit with red and white stars. He said they’d ingrained in Vigilante his love of protecting others.
I carried these bits of Vigilante lore with me through the days until it was finally Friday, D-day. Time to turn over the changing crystal to the next league. I should have been happy to be relieved of the duty, but I felt oddly deflated.
No more Vigilante. No more tension between us, which was a good thing—it was becoming harder and harder every day to fake like everything was casual, like the sex we’d had didn’t matter.
That morning I packed my scattered belongings, cramming them back into my overnight bag, then made his bed. It was like I’d never been there. I eyeballed the side table. On impulse opened it and grabbed the unopened box of old condoms. Something to remember Vigilante by. He wouldn't suspect it was me, right? I’d been careful to never mention seeing them.
I pushed the box into the corner of the bag, right beside my sidekick uniform. A sudden memory of buying the spandex popped up in my mind. It had been fun being a sidekick while it lasted, except for dealing with Dementrix.
I guess I wouldn’t need the uniform anymore now, either. I thought about Dementrix flirting with Vigilante, her sexual prowess probably seeping into his mind, her fingernails raking his skin. My chest hurt from the image.
But what hurt even worse was that Vigilante had made no mention of wanting to see me after this changing crystal business would be over. No casual dates. Not even a friendly get-together every now and then. Maybe spending so much time with me had been a burden on him. Especially since we’d slept together. Did it mean anything at all to him?
I had too much pride to ask him how he felt, so I continued my act of playing it cool when I was around him. In fact, both of us acted like that crazy drunken night had never happened.
After all, he was going back to his life as a mysterious superhero, coveted by countless scores of women, doing important things to save the world.
And me? I was going to keep on being Mason’s overworked, undersexed personal shopper-slash-assistant-slash-everything else under the sun. Wonderful.
Vigilante drove me and my car to work for the last time. I took in subtle, stolen glances of him as he drove, committing them to memory. The small scar on the tip of his right index finger. The cupid’s bow of his upper lip. The dark eyelashes. All were ingrained in my brain.
Ingrained in my heart, if I were honest.
He was quiet as he drove, and I wanted to ask him what he was thinking. But I was afraid of the answer. What if it was about how relieved he was to finally be free? I didn’t want to hear that.
We got to work all too soon. He escorted me to the elevator then stopped. “Well, this is it,” he said, standing in front of me.
I froze, staring at him for a long moment of silence. A million things rushed into my head that I wanted to say, but was too chicken to.
Instead, I settled for sticking out my hand. “It’s been real.”
One eyebrow rose. Then Vigilante took my hand in his, pulled me close and gently brushed a small, tender kiss across my lips.
As he pulled back, something unspoken flashed in his eyes for the briefest of moments. Everything in me froze in one painful swoosh. Was he going to stay here with me? What would I say if he did?
He turned and left without looking back.
My stomach sank. Oh well, it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. He was a superhero who kept himself locked away, hidden. Besides, I didn’t have time to do this. I had important League work to do, and Vigilante didn’t factor into that anymore.
I stared at his retreating figure for a minute, my eyes lingering a bit too long, then gathered my heart off the ground and headed into the elevator, shooting up to the top floor.
For once, Carrie didn’t hound me as soon as I got off the elevator. She must have taken the day off, thank God, because Elaine (a temp we often used around the office) was manning the phones.
Mason, standing beside the receptionist desk, eyed the cooler as soon as I stepped onto the floor. “Are we ready?” he asked me.
I nodded, all too quickly feeling the pangs of Vigilante’s absence. I’d gotten so used to being around him for two weeks that not having him here felt…empty.
I glanced at the office lobby, half expecting Vigilante to pop out of a room and say, “Just kidding.” But he didn’t.
“Let’s go,” I told Mason. I was ready to hand this crystal off to the next league and move on with my life.
We got in Mason’s supercar and took off, destination unknown. He merged
onto the highway, headed east. The scenery darted by me in a blur as Mason wove through traffic. His driving wasn’t as smooth as Vigilante’s, so I checked my safety belt to make sure it was tight and clung to the cooler, perched firmly on my lap. I kept my eyes focused ahead, so as not to get motion sickness.
Mason didn’t bother to chat with me, which suited my mood just fine.
We drove in silence for a while then crossed the border from Ohio into Pennsylvania. Mason took the first exit and continued to drive fast, turning this way and that at breakneck speed until we were on a small country road out in the middle of nowhere.
The car jostled up and down as we drove on the one-lane road. I guess having a supercar didn’t mean it automatically came with great shocks. Scattered trees, skirting the edges of the dusty road, whipped by as Mason plunged confidently ahead, whistling that seventies disco song “The Hustle” to himself.
Gee, good thing he was in a good mood, because I sure wasn’t.
After about ten more minutes we finally reached the end of the road. A massive weathered red barn with gaping, open doors had about a dozen other supercars parked in front. I stepped out and closed the door, the cooler dangling in my right hand.
Mason locked the car with his remote and waved at the group of heroes milling around the farm grounds. I didn’t recognize most of them, as they weren’t in our Midwest league, but a couple seemed like pretty important superheroes, given how big the logos on their chests were.
From what I could discern, in the superhero world, the higher up you were, the bigger your chest logo was. Talk about overcompensating for something. Now that I thought of it, Vigilante didn’t bother with a logo. I guess he was secure enough in himself…and he had good reason to be.
No, I’m not thinking about him right now. I pushed him out of my mind to focus on the task at hand. With a sigh I shuffled my way toward the group, lagging a few feet behind Mason. Given the amount of spandex running rampant around here, I was the odd man out in my “normal” apparel of slacks and a white blouse.
One superhero, a guy with a big black W in a gold circle on his chest, ran over and slapped Mason on the back. “Buddy,” he exclaimed loudly, running his other hand over the top of his blond, thinning hair to smooth it down. “How the hell have you been?”
“Hey, Windo! I’m doing great!” Mason laughed, punching the guy hard in the gut with a clenched fist.
The guy’s breath slammed out of his mouth, and his eyes briefly bugged out in shock. Then he laughed, a huge chortle that caused tears to roll down the corners of his eyes. “Nice one, man,” he said to Mason.
Damn, that punch would have knocked me out cold. Girls don’t greet each other like that, thank God. But guys will be guys, and I guess superheroes were no exception—always having to prove their masculinity to each other, lest they be labeled as “soft.”
A stiff breeze picked up in the air, whipping my hair around my face. The edges stung my cheeks as they slapped my skin. It was a beautiful day, but I should have brought a ponytail holder. Guess my mind was on other things this morning.
I was just bending over to put the cooler down and get my hair out of my eyes, when a whooshing sound ripped right over my head. What the hell? I quickly touched the top of my head to make sure it was still here, since the sensation occurred not two inches above me.
Holy crap, what was going on? It hit me: someone was trying to shoot me!
I grabbed the cooler and yanked at Mason’s car door. Damnit, it was locked. So I tucked tail and ran behind the back of the car. From around the side of the car I watched Mason and the other superheroes instantly jump to life.
Windo sprang into the air, flying overhead to scout for the sniper. A couple of others darted around the red walls of the barn. Mason cracked his knuckles in a series of loud pops, threw back his chest and barreled into the barn, disappearing into the darkness.
A golden arrow came out of nowhere and soared through the sky, piercing Windo’s side. He clutched the oozing wound and fell from the air, like Icarus after his wings melted. He hit the ground, hard, and didn’t move.
My heart leapt in my throat. This was no joke. Someone wanted the crystal at all costs. And seeing as how the other superheroes were currently occupied, it was up to me to protect it.
Not a good prospect.
I quickly opened the cooler. Purple light bathed me as the changing crystal flared to life. Careful not to touch the jewel, I grabbed the edges of the black cloth and swaddled the jewel securely within, then tucked the package safely in my pants pocket and toed the cooler to the side of the driveway as a decoy. If I needed to make a getaway, at least I wouldn’t be dragging it around.
More arrows flew through the air, one after another in a flurry, raining on the ground like a gold storm. I heard a sudden gunshot and felt my body go instantly cold.
Oh, God, please don’t let me get shot. And don’t let any of these superheroes die. Blood raced through my veins, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears as I squatted behind Mason’s car, struggling to come up with a plan.
How was I going to make it out of here alive? I had no idea where I was, where Mason was. I was stuck.
Suddenly, from behind me, a hand clamped down on my shoulder and another cupped my mouth.
Chapter 11
I jumped about three feet out of my skin, then grabbed the hand on my arm and whirled around, preparing to fight my attacker. To the death, if need be.
Vigilante removed his hand from my mouth and tapped his lips with his index finger, visually shushing me. His brow was furrowed, a deep line of concern etched on his forehead.
Oh thank God, it was him. I’d never been so happy to see his masked face in my life. I nodded silently in agreement. At this point I’d agree to whatever it took to escape safely.
He pushed my shoulders down, forcing me into a deep squat. Then he hunched over, grabbed my hand and dragged me into the woods. The sounds of fighting continued behind us as we pushed through the thick green trees.
We made our way about forty feet in, turned left and walked parallel to the dirt road Mason and I had originally driven on. I studied the ground carefully, trying not to crackle anything underfoot. Silence was key. If the attackers knew I’d escaped, we were dead meat walking.
After ten minutes of silence I dared to open my mouth, whispering, “How did you know where to find me?”
“I followed you,” he said, his hand still gripping mine. “I was worried things wouldn’t go down as planned.” He glanced over his shoulder, giving me a heart-stopping smile. “Obviously I was right.”
Wow, he’d been worried about me? He did care, even though he tried to pretend he didn’t. I knew it! Beneath that darkly clothed exterior and tough disposition laid the heart of a softie.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” I said, smiling back. “’Cause I sure needed to see a friendly face.”
“Where’s the crystal?” he asked.
I patted the outside of my pocket, feeling for the telltale lump. Yup, still there. “It’s on me. I took it out of the cooler.”
He stopped and turned around. “You didn’t touch it, did you?”
“Of course not. I’m not stupid.” God, did he really need to be questioning me right now? There were more important things to focus on—like, oh, I don’t know, escaping alive.
He slitted his eyes at me. “Relax. I was just making sure.”
I tried to keep my mood level. He was doing me a favor by helping me, after all, even if he was being a little condescending in the process.
“I already got the crystal lecture from Mason,” I said. “I know what I’m doing. Let’s just get out of here, okay?”
He gave me a small, curt nod, turning around and continuing forward. His grip tightened on my hand. My fingers started to cramp, but I wasn’t going to complain about it now, not after the fuss I’d just made.
We walked for almost an hour, heading back toward the main street Mason had left from when he’d turned
onto the dusty one-way road. My feet throbbed in my cute, impractical heels, so I tugged on Vigilante’s hand.
“Hold on.” I stopped and stripped the shoes off one at a time, gingerly balancing so I could flex my aching toes. No way could I cram my feet back in those shoes. I’d just have to be extra careful not to step on anything with my bare feet.
He sighed deeply, then grabbed me and hitched me onto his back.
“Hey, I can walk,” I protested. But not too hard. In reality I was getting pretty winded, and Vigilante still looked like he’d only walked about five feet. Obviously he also had super stamina—as I’d already found out that one drunken night.
No, I’m not thinking about that right now.
“We’re almost there,” he said, plowing along our path. “Keep quiet.”
I did as asked, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, my shoes clutched in one hand. I breathed in his familiar cologne, glad to have another chance to smell him again. Pathetic, I knew, but true.
After another ten minutes of walking, we made it to a thicket of bushes. Vigilante put me down, then dug away at the thicket leaves to reveal his motorcycle. He pushed it to the edge of the road. “Get on,” he said, straddling the bike.
I was glad to. I hopped on the back and held on for dear life as we sped away.
* * *
I clung to Vigilante’s strong, muscled back, pressing the side of my face between his shoulder blades. The soft, worn fabric of his overcoat caressed my skin as we raced down the road.
My arms entwined around his waist, I had the sudden desire for this moment to never end. Maybe we could make a run for the border and drive to Mexico, where we could sit on the beach and drink Mojitos all day. And Vigilante could get some much-needed sun, God help him. He’d refused my spray tan idea. I couldn’t understand why—lots of guys got spray tans now, so it wasn’t like it would take away from his macho-man persona.
Super Zero Page 10
