Elisa twisted around in her chair to see me enter the room. I looked straight past her at…
“Val.”
She smiled, and it melted away all my worries. Forget medicine. Forget everything. All I needed was her. My chest swelled in elation—at least until my bruised ribs sent a spike of pain through my insides.
“Sweet cartwheeling Jesus,” said Elisa. “What happened to you?”
• • •
I sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped up my injuries. Never had the mattress seemed so soft and welcoming. Val was behind me, holding onto the edge of a bandage when I needed a hand, which was often. Her perfume reached my nose, mingling with the scent of her skin, and I breathed it in like a drug. It seemed to lessen my pain somehow—though that could have just been the aspirin I downed earlier.
“I haven’t seen you this bruised in a long time,” she said.
“You always manage to find new ways to bruise me.”
“That doesn’t count. It’s recreational.”
I smirked, even though she couldn’t see it.
“So they just let you go?”
“Nice of them, wasn’t it?” She leaned back, causing the mattress to creak slightly. “I expected them to hold me for a couple days at least, but I guess someone convinced them I was innocent.”
I shook my head. “They didn’t need me. Moreen knows when someone’s trying to stage a cover-up.”
I pulled the last bandage tight and tied it off. My arms felt stiff, my eyelids heavy. The nightmare of a day had ended, and Val was back, but I’d be a fool to think this was over.
She ran her fingers lightly up the bare skin of my back, and I straightened up, suddenly not tired anymore. “So,” she whispered in my ear. “Tell me how you seduced Starla Strauss.”
I groaned. “I didn’t seduce her.”
“The one woman who has information that could help me, and you didn’t use every means possible to get it?”
“You want me to seduce another woman?”
“To keep me out of jail? Of course. I’d do the same for you.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome, darling.”
She nibbled on my ear, sending shivers through me. My bruises still ached, but right now, they didn’t seem to matter. Her hands ran along my sides, over the coarse bandages and onto my chest. I closed my eyes, and her tongue slipped into my ear.
“Val,” I said with considerable difficulty. “We need to talk.”
“Tomorrow.” Her breath tickled my skin.
“It’s important.”
“It can wait.” She slid around me and sat in my lap, her legs straddling my waist, and as much as my brain tried to concentrate, all the blood in my body was going somewhere lower. Val’s skirt had slid up her thighs, and I drew in a sharp breath. Val had gorgeous thighs. Val had gorgeous everything. She was all soft curves and smooth skin and I wanted every inch of her—Focus.
“Val.” I swallowed. “Someone deliberately framed you and—”
She put a finger over my lips. “Hush, Hero. I have you at my mercy. You’ve no choice but to do as I say.”
I paused, and the focused part of my brain waved a white flag in happy surrender. “I’ve gotten captured, have I?”
“You always get captured.”
I ran a hand up her leg, cupping her bottom and pulling her closer. “Then I guess I’ll have to go along with your evil scheme until I can escape.”
She pushed me down onto my back.
“You do that.”
Chapter 6
I woke up in pain. Even lying down, even with extremely lightly bruised ribs, every second hurt. I groaned and tried to check the state of my bandages, but my hands wouldn’t move. They were stuck somewhere near the headboard. Panic piercing my grogginess, I pulled with more strength, and my hands came free with a clank. Broken metal handcuffs came with them.
Ah. Right. Last night.
Val moaned sleepily, and I tensed, but she didn’t wake. Sooner or later, I’d have to face the music for breaking her handcuffs, though. I tore the bands from my wrists as quietly as possible and stretched my arms. Had I slept in that position all night? Bad idea. My arms were numb, my shoulders sore, and that wasn’t even counting all the aches from the fight. I must have been pretty darn exhausted to sleep as soundly as I had.
I sat up slowly, my muscles protesting every movement, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The only way I was getting up was by taking it one slow step at a time. That was just the price you paid in this business.
Val yawned and rose, bed sheet sliding down to her waist. She pushed her tousled hair out of her face, then froze and turned to me.
“Did you break my handcuffs?”
I don’t know which is harder: keeping secrets from a telepath or keeping secrets from your wife.
She smacked me with her pillow. “Dave, I bought those in Venice.”
“Sorry, honey.” I kissed her on the cheek and stood carefully up. My knee seethed, but I was used to that—the rest of me hurting, not so much. My back flared when I tried to stand up straight, and each breath reminded me of my bruised ribs. I hoped Giordano was using all sorts of sharp, pointy objects to increase his power today. Maybe I could ask if he needed any help.
I was uncomfortably aware of Val watching my every stiff move. It was some dumb macho instinct, but I didn’t like showing weakness in front of my wife. I didn’t like showing it in front of anyone, but especially her.
“Come back to bed, Dave. It’s—” She groaned when she saw the clock and flopped back down. “It’s six a.m.”
“I have to see someone this morning.”
“Who?”
“Harris’s publicist. I think she might know something.”
Val propped herself up on her elbows and looked at me. “You don’t have to do that anymore. The DSA let me go. You can stop investigating.”
“Don’t you want to know who framed you?”
“Of course, but that’s not a job for my husband. I can send people to do that—nasty people who won’t take no for an answer.”
“I want to see this through.”
“You got me out of prison. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“You know you’re not completely off the suspect list. And I can’t even take credit for that. I barely did anything.”
“That Lee woman—” She said the name like she had a rotten taste in her mouth. “—said they wouldn’t have been sure another suspect existed if it hadn't been for you.”
I stared. “That’s…uncharacteristically nice of her. And not exactly true.”
Val sighed, her chest heaving, and I struggled to keep my gaze on her face. Going back to bed was… tempting.
“I’m doing it for Harris, too,” I said.
She rolled over, putting her back to me. “Go on, then. It’s a terrible idea, but obviously I can’t change your mind.”
I bit back an angry response—I was doing all this to help her. The least she could do was be supportive.
You’re doing this for your own pride and stubborn sense of justice, she thought. If you’re really so devoted to me, you’d do what I want and stay here where you’re safe.
I needed to remember to keep my shields up during arguments.
“Val…”
“No, no. Don’t let me keep you. Go investigate. I’ll be here teaching our daughter to control her life-altering superpowers. By myself.”
I took a deep breath. Yesterday had reminded me just how fragile our time together was, and I wasn’t going to leave her like this. Besides, the mention of Elisa reminded me of what Lucio had said. I hobbled back to the bed and eased down on it.
“Actually,” I said, “We need to talk about that.”
I summarized the events of the past day for her, focusing on Lucio’s threats and Giordano’s interruption. By the time I finished, I’d deflected her anger onto another target.
“That old bastard,” she hissed. “How dare h
e.”
“We need to make plans for what will happen to Elisa if… if anything happens to us.”
“Yes, but…” She frowned, staring off at nothing in particular.
“What is it?” I asked.
“He got to Miami awfully fast.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
“Well, his private little Caribbean island is what—an hour’s flight from here?”
“Yes, but he would’ve needed to hear about my arrest almost immediately. And I know he has spies, but it is strange that he’d come personally. Especially since he disowned me. You don’t think…?”
She bit her lip and looked at me.
“I’m not the mind-reader, Val,” I said gently. “You have to finish your sentences.”
“You don’t think he framed me? That he orchestrated all of this as an excuse to take Elisa?”
I took her hand. “No. You’re still his daughter. Family is practically the only thing he respects. If he didn’t, he would’ve killed your sisters years ago.”
That got a wry smile out of her, but it didn’t last long. “You don’t know him like I do. He… Maybe you should keep investigating.”
I kept my mouth shut, surprised by her sudden change of mind and afraid I’d blow it if I spoke.
“Just promise me you’ll spend time with Elisa today,” she said. “I can work with her on her telepathy, but you’re the only one who can teach her not to break people.”
I gave her hand a light squeeze. “I promise.”
• • •
I worked with Elisa first thing after my morning coffee, since I might not have time later in the day. My loving daughter was less than thrilled with such consideration, but she got out of bed eventually.
“I thought the idea was for me to learn not to use my strength,” she said.
I had her in the exercise room working with my weight set. As much as I made fun of Val’s obscene fortune (Really, after a certain astronomically high point, what difference does even more money make?), it had a few advantages, one of which was the workout equipment she gave me as a wedding present. The DSA had something similar in its training rooms—weights that actually challenged those of us with super-strength. It was a necessity, because there was no way anyone on a DSA salary could afford to buy a set of their own.
“You have to learn your upper limits before you can learn to tone it down,” I replied. I was sitting on a chair by the wall, not wanting to move my sore limbs any more than I absolutely had to. “And widen your stance. Push with your whole body, not just your arms.”
She did so, moving weights only a select number of people on earth could manage. It was… worrying to think about. Sure, she was a lot more powerful now, but she was also in a lot more danger. Val and I hadn’t needed to talk to agree that Lucio shouldn’t find out about this. He already wanted Elisa back in the family proper; with this kind of power, she might be so valuable that not even Val’s presence would dissuade him.
“Ow.” Elisa dropped the weight onto the stand with a loud metal clunk.
“You all right?” I asked.
“I just pulled a muscle I didn’t even know I had.”
I smiled. “Working out can do that to you.”
“I’m not going to end up looking like a bodybuilder, am I?”
“It’ll take more than a little weight-lifting to do that,” I assured her.
She picked up her water bottle with exaggerated care, having already crushed a glass at breakfast. “Yeah, but I have super-strength now and everything.”
“That’s no replacement for training. You can have super-strength and still be fat and out of shape. In fact, it’s probably easier for us to get out of shape than most people. It takes a lot more to put our bodies under the same amount of strain.”
“Great. Another thing I have to worry about.” She paused to take a long gulp of water. “Can we take a break?” she asked when she came up for air.
Memories of training Julio surged to the front of my mind. He’d never asked for breaks, pushing himself too long and too hard like he had something to prove. I’d had to learn to recognize the signs of when he’d hit his limit so I could force him to take a breather. So different from dealing with Elisa.
“Five minutes.”
Her white sneakers squeaked on the polished wooden floor as she walked across the room. There was a flatscreen TV on the wall in front of the treadmills. She turned it on and started flipping through the channels.
“You really need to watch television?” I asked. “You can’t occupy yourself for five minutes? Maybe have a conversation with your old man?”
She grinned. “I just want to see—hey, there it is.”
The screen showed a crowded beach, the camera panning past swimsuit-clad people who waved, made faces, and threw up gang signs. Then it settled onto a big black stage on the sand where a man with a microphone and a bad fake tan was standing next to the Idols.
“Now you’re just trying to torture me,” I said.
The weather was gorgeous, but I already knew that; sunlight streamed in through the windows, not a cloud in the sky. It was the perfect day for a festival. Elisa turned up the volume as the crowd pressed up to the stage, hands in the air, their bodies wet with sweat and seawater. A “Miami Hero-Fest” sign hung proudly above the scene, and music blared from the speakers by the stage. The TV screen flashed to the clips from the Idols’ latest movie, and the crowd on the beach must have been able to see it, too, because they cheered madly.
“Hey, do you think I could take Mr. Tomorrow in a fight?” Elisa asked. “You’re stronger than him, right?”
I gave her a look.
“What?” She held up her hands. “It’s a hypothetical question. I’m not planning a supervillain career. Relax, Dad.”
The trailer distracted me from replying, since it revealed the movie’s villain: a shameless rip-off of the Crimson Phoenix’s old foe, Dr. Grim. The Idols’ movies were a strange sort of mishmash of fiction and reality (but mostly fiction). The villains were usually invented specifically for the silver screen, but of course, the Idols were real and always played themselves. Unlike most superheroes, the Idols’ secret identities were well-known.
Drew Banks was Mr. Tomorrow. His movie-origin story portrayed him as a struggling private detective who turned superhero to save New York City from a supervillain attack. Rumor was that, in reality, he’d failed DSA basic training and had been scouted to be the public face of the organization because of his good looks. It might not be true, but the bitter part of me wanted to believe it. His suit was white, with blue boots and gloves, a big red “T” on his chest, and a billowing cape. Kind of old-fashioned, but I think they were going for the classic, all-American look with him.
It was even easier to guess the look they were going for with Starbright, and it was nothing more complicated than “sexy.” Tiffany Tara Foss had been a model before becoming a superhero. That was more than rumor, as photographs of her pre-Idol days were easy to find, and she still showed up in magazines and advertisements today. Her costume was pretty much just a gold swimsuit with boots, a glaring difference compared to the full-body-covering outfits her male companions got to wear
Then again, full-body suits weren’t always a good idea. Just ask Jamar Griffon, G-Force. The tight black rubber of his suit stretched from his boots to a cowl over his head and made him look like a human condom. He was the only one of the three who had experience in law enforcement and had been Detroit’s resident superhero before his popularity landed him a spot with the Idols. I wondered if he ever missed it, but judging by the smile on his face and bikini-clad women at his side, he was happy with his career choice.
Mr. Tomorrow stood in the center of the stage, Starbright on his right and G-Force on his left, as the trio demonstrated their powers to the ecstatic crowd. Starbright shot bolts of light from her hands like fireworks. Her flashy powers were perfect for show business, and the audience whistled and c
heered at the display. When they settled down, the host asked for a volunteer. A platinum blonde in a bikini was chosen, and G-Force levitated her into the air. She shrieked, and the crowd laughed and applauded. Then, once she had left the stage, the sounds of an engine revving came over the speakers. A second later, a shiny new jeep drove up to the Idols. The audience fell hush as Mr. Tomorrow strode up to it, cape billowing out behind him, and the driver jumped out just as the superhero picked up the vehicle and hoisted it above his head.
The crowd went wild.
Mr. Tomorrow set down the jeep, and the guy with the microphone slid up to him. “That. Was. Amazing.”
The crowd cheered even louder.
“Do you work out?” Microphone-guy asked. “Are superpowers all you need, or do you bench press cars to stay in shape?”
“I definitely have to work out,” Mr. Tomorrow said. “Being a superhero is 90 percent hard work, and the other half is superpowers. I don’t think people realize how tough this job is. You gotta work hard every day.”
“Wow.” Elisa snorted. “That was deep.”
“Just turn it off,” I said.
“But I’m learning so much.” She grinned and pressed the power button—and the TV screen broke with a loud crack.
She jumped back and swore.
“Constant control,” I said. “You can’t ever forget, not even for a second.”
“I know! I know.” She put her hands to her head. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I said, more gently. “I did the exact same thing when I was your age. Didn’t have TV for weeks.”
“Your parents grounded you?” Her eyes widened in alarm. “For an accident? That’s harsh.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “You wouldn’t do a thing like that, would you, Daddy?”
I almost laughed. “I wasn’t grounded. It just took your abuela a while to save enough money for a new set.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, with all the TVs in this house, you won’t have that problem.” I nodded toward the exercise equipment. “Break’s over. Get to work on that punching bag.”
She walked over and gave it a halfhearted whack. I knew she could do better. She was a Belmonte; Val had put her in martial-arts classes when she was young. Before I could say anything, though, she looked at me and asked, “Is it even worth it?”
Hero Status Page 8
