Rogues_Supers of Project 12_Reverse Harem

by Angel Lawson

  The water tower, where they first kissed.

  They climb up quickly, the old ladder clanking as they go. When they reach the top it’s cold, and the wind blows off the harbor in the distance. Astrid leans her back against the metal and stares out into the distance. From up here there’s no sign of the trouble below, everything is twinkly like starlight. Crescent City is beautiful. Just like the woman next to him.

  “Do you think I’m a bad person?” she finally asks.

  “You know I don’t.”

  “Do you think I’m bossy and pushy and collecting Lost Boys for my own purposes?”

  He stares at her for a minute, watching her hair blow and her gloved hands clench by her side. “Collecting seems like a harsh word.”

  “Are we idiots for doing this?” He’s not sure what ‘this’ means, considering all the stuff she’s said. Does she mean him? Him and Owen? The work they’re doing? Somehow, he suspects this goes back to Draco. Maybe Casper. Quinn knows he can’t control those two. She’ll have to figure that out on her own time, but he is aware that he can assure her in his own way. He steps forward, peeling off his gloves.

  He stashes them in his pocket and reaches one hand for her hip and another to her neck, sliding it under the warmth of her hair. Her blue-green eyes flash beneath her mask, daring him closer.

  “We’re not idiots,” he tells her. “And we’re not wrong, and although you’re a little bossy and pushy, I like that, so don’t change.”

  He blocks her from the wind, pushing his body against hers, and when his lips meet hers it’s just as powerful as the first time they were up here. Maybe more so, because now they’ve built something and it’s not based on just lust (although that’s running hot in his veins.) No, this is real, damn real, and she takes his breath away.

  His lips trail down her neck and she sighs in his ear. When her fingers push under his jacket he realizes they’re bare, her gloves stashed away somewhere, and their intimacy doubles, triples, because touch—it’s like Astrid opening a door to herself, and it kick starts his heart.

  “What’s that for?” she asks him. Her hand snakes up his shirt, fingers grazing over his nipple, and she splays her fingers flat over his heart.

  “You,” he replies, as there’s no other answer. Her hips press into his and there’s no mistaking that she feels the other part of him turned on by her proximity. He pushes her into the metal wall.

  The next few minutes are filled with the sound of their breathing and the rustle of leather. Quinn unzips the front of her jacket and slips his fingers under her tight tank. She shivers at his touch or maybe—“Too cold?”

  “No, god no, my skin is burning.”

  He laughs, but he understands; his entire body is on fire, hungry with want. His cock strains against the leather pants and when she touches him over the top, he groans. “I don’t think getting caught up here by a mob of angry citizens is going to help our case. Especially if we’re naked.”

  “We don’t have to be totally naked,” she says into his ear. Her breath his hot and tickles his neck, making him laugh. Lifting his head, he takes her face in his and smiles.

  “What?”

  “I love that even in the middle of a crisis you’re willing to have fun. We need more fun in our life.”

  “Dude, we just played bocce ball. We’re total partiers.”

  Again, he laughs, but stops when he hears a beep in his ear and the screen on his mask flip on. He groans and Astrid sighs.

  “What’s going on, Casper?” she says. Quinn zips up her jacket.

  “I need you both back at the Lair.”

  “What for?” Quinn adjusts his pants, knowing his hard-on won’t easily fade.

  “I’ve got a hit on the terrorist threat.”

  He doesn’t need to say anything else. He shouldn’t. It’s dangerous information, too important to transmit over the frequency. With one last look over the illusion of a quiet city, they head back to the others.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Astrid

  Casper is waiting for them when they return to the Lair. He’s patched Draco in, whose hair is sticking up on the side. He’d obviously been asleep. Quinn changes and rouses Owen, who also looks like a zombie.

  “I hope it’s the end of the world. Otherwise, I don’t know why you’d wake me up like this,” he says, tucking his head in his hoodie and falling into a chair facing the computer wall.

  “It’s not the end of the world,” Casper says. “At least not yet. But yeah, the intel I have is the kind that can level the entire city.”

  That wakes both Draco and Owen up.

  “I’ve been following some data in the dark web. This place is where the lowest of the lows dwell. It takes forever to get through the bullshit, government secrets, payoffs, black market trading. Don’t even get me into the perverted shit. You don’t want to know. What I discovered is that the Elites have become more and more of a topic in some of the forums.”

  He clicks a few buttons and pulls up a variety of photos, articles, chat boxes. Echo at the fire. Charger fighting at the parade. Pan leading people to safety when the dragon crashed through the streets. There’s an image of Draco standing at the foot of the dragon, shield out. Astrid leans closer, trying to read the comments. Unsurprisingly, they’re varied, swinging from supportive to criminal.

  “I’ve been tracking this content and removing any details that get close to your true identities and keeping an eye on the extra-nutjobs that seem to have a hard-on for you.”

  “I don’t even want to know what that means,” Owen mumbles.

  “I do,” Draco says.

  “It means Demetria’s antics and your involvement haven’t just caught the eye of the Mayor and Jensen. People all over the world are watching and a few are bad guys. Really bad.”

  “Like a terrorist?”

  He nods. “Two weeks ago, I made contact with someone nervous about a transaction they’d made. They’d been the middle-man with some explosive-grade material. I made nice, dug a little deeper, and found the electronic paper trail connecting back to one of your online detractors.”

  “Good job, man,” Quinn says. “Do you have a name?”

  “No names. This place is completely anonymous. But I got a date. October 17th. They made it clear it would be an event you wouldn’t miss.”

  The number sounds familiar and Astrid glances at the others for help. Before she can speak, Draco pushes his hair with one hand. “The soccer match.”

  Casper pulls up a digital version of the poster.

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” Owen says. “Even with Demetria locked away, we can’t have a public event without it turning into a crisis.”

  “This is more than a crisis, Owen,” Draco says. “We’re talking about a catastrophic event.”

  “Someone is going to bomb a stadium of fifty thousand people just to get to us? What kind of fucked-up plan is this?” Astrid asks.

  “We don’t control the psychos, As,” Owen says, reaching for her hand. She can’t help but marvel over how someone touching her makes her feel better, not worse. So much good and bad has come from their finding each other.

  “Maybe Jensen is right,” she says. “Maybe we step back. We’re causing more harm than good. We can let them take care of this.”

  “And what? Book a vacation a thousand miles away on the day of the threat?” Casper asks.

  Everyone stares at him, knowing he’s the least likely to go anywhere even with the threat of a terrorist event.

  Quinn exhales. “Is that what you want to do? Step down? Give the appearance that we’re no longer an issue?”

  “Disband?” Draco asks in a tight voice. “You’d have to make a public announcement.”

  Owen adds, “Which means caving to Rowe.”

  She clenches her jaw. “I’ll do it.”

  “This is bullshit,” Casper laments, but she can tell by the set of his jaw and shoulders, he’s resigned, too. That’s when she realizes she’s m
aking a choice for all of them, not just herself.

  “I think it’s the right thing to do,” she tells them. “But we’re a team. I don’t get to make the decision unilaterally.”

  “She’s right,” Draco says. “My biggest regret is not stopping Demetria. If we have the opportunity to save people by not going out there, we need to do it.”

  He may be across the city but Astrid feels his emotions right in the room. He gets it.

  Quinn nods his agreement and Owen sighs dramatically but says, “Fine. But I’m not quitting the recruitment program. I’ve worked too hard.”

  “You don’t have to,” she says, squeezing his hand. “And you’re crushing it.”

  “So, what’s next?”

  “I also have to tell someone about what’s coming. Give them a chance to stop it,” she says. “Do you have any actual proof, Casper?”

  The grim set of his mouth gives the answer to that. Astrid’s not entirely sure how Casper’s gift works, but he manipulates computers the way she handles emotions. It’s instinct. Same with the others. It’s built into their system and although his intel is probably completely accurate, there’s no way to hand over proof to the authorities.

  Astrid sighs. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “How? Jensen?” Quinn asks.

  “He may be a little pissed at me right now but he’ll believe me, especially when I tell him I’m quitting.”

  The words ring hollow in her chest, and looking around the room at the men who have supported her unconditionally, she’s never felt so alone.

  *

  It’s three a.m. when they leave the Lair. Draco and Casper blip off the screen. Owen heads straight back to bed, catching whatever sleep he can before training in the morning.

  Harry meets her at her bedroom door and she picks him up, pressing her nose into his soft head. He purrs in reply until he grows bored and jumps from her arms and vanishes into Owen’s room.

  That makes her laugh.

  “Only a cat picks the person that hates him the most to snuggle with.” She leans against the wall and looks up at Quinn. “This has been a stupid, crazy day.”

  “Tomorrow will be better.”

  “It’s already tomorrow. I may have to wait one more for things to settle down.”

  Quinn’s scent changes at the same time his eyes dilate and he reaches for her. When his mouth crashes into hers, it’s like she relaxes for the first time in hours. All the pent-up anger and stress fell away under his touch. He guides her into her room, stepping over the shoes and laundry piled on the floor, knocking over an empty bottle of soda until her knees hit the edge of the bed. He kisses his way down her jaw, working his way to her lips. Pushing at his shirt, she lifts it over his head, revealing his muscled chest and abs.

  “I do not get tired of seeing this,” she says, running her hands over his smooth skin. He shivers and claims her mouth again, while her hands wander, exploring the line of hair beneath his belly button. He gasps and she laughs into his mouth.

  He retaliates by removing her shirt in a hard yank over her head, then taking his time with her pants, tugging them down inch by inch, kissing every spot of her skin before dropping lower. By the time he’s pulled them over her feet her body is on fire and his heart thunders. Astrid’s races to match it. When he pushes her back on the bed and climbs over her body, their skin feels electric. She doesn’t know if it’s him, and what he can do, but he ignites something within her that she can’t resist.

  His tongue teases her skin, running over the curve of her breast, lingering on her nipple. She runs her fingers into the soft fringe of his hair, tugging him closer. She wants to feel his weight and wraps her legs around him, using her heels to push off his shorts.

  “Impatient much?” He snorts and helps when the fabric gets caught on his erection.

  “You know it’s my one true weakness.” On the street, that’s true. In bed, there are probably more. Seeing his cock hard and ready makes her knees weak and stomach churn with want.

  His fingers trail down her thighs, nudging them apart, feeling the dampness between her legs. Taking a chance, she reaches for him, stroking the soft tip of his cock with her thumb. In reaction he pulls her to him, dragging her hips down the bed. A grunt makes her smile and he doesn’t wait any longer, entering her in one quick move.

  Different men fuck differently, or so she’s learned over the last few weeks. Owen is silly, horny and all in. Quinn, like with everything else, brings a level of intensity. He’s confident. Assured. He always treats her like an equal, in the ring or in the bed (sometimes that’s the same thing) but tonight he thrusts slowly and kisses the sensitive skin next to her ear. His quiet voice whispers little thoughts and she has no problem hearing him, not even over the sound of her ragged breathing. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, don’t second guess yourself. You’re not alone. His fingers link with hers and she’s caught by the blast of his echo. A ripple rolls through her body, unsteady and trembling with a flash of blinding, hot energy.

  Her back arches and his thumbs dig into her hips, eyes meeting in the middle of it all. She’s coming when it hits her, what the energy is, what the feeling amounts to, why it’s so much more than every other time, why she feels it in her gut and heart.

  His grunts turn erratic, his body hammers into hers and she’s lost to the feelings crashing over her. His thoughts, his words—spoken and unspoken—dance in her mind, and he kisses her at the same time he fills her body with his seed.

  Quinn loves her, she thinks, cresting over the wave. Truly loves her, there’s not a single doubt in her mind or body, and instead of that being the most terrifying thing about the day, it’s the best.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Astrid

  The announcement is scheduled for nine a.m. She’ll be finished by 9:07. Dressed in her full suit, she refuses to answer questions, even though the press has many. The conference is held on the steps of City Hall and informs Crescent City that she and her team will step down.

  “For the sake of the city, we realize that more harm is being done than good. In an effort to maintain peace and safety, we will no longer patrol the streets or assist the community. The mayor’s Task Force is sufficient.”

  The final words barely come past her grinding teeth.

  Back at the Lair, she knows this may be the final time she puts on the leather suit. Her cuffs and mask rest secure on their stand. She hopes Atticus understands she’s doing this for the right reason.

  Distraction comes easily and she takes out her frustration on the recruits. They run through the parkour gauntlet, each trying to better their time and skills. Owen is doing pretty well; he’s not the leader of the pack, but close. That title goes to a woman named Clarissa Taylor. She’s six feet tall, face like a supermodel, made of solid muscle and disturbingly fast. She’ll be the number one choice out of the recruiting class. Jensen will be thrilled.

  Speaking of, the agent strides across the gym floor. He obviously got her call.

  “Came to see the recruits?” she asks.

  “You know that’s not why I’m here.” His eyes skim the participants anyway. He lingers on Owen, longer than a heartbeat, but she knows his disguise manipulation works. He glances at her. “I think we need to talk.”

  She nods at Mick, who is helping the recruits, handing him the score sheet and pencil. They head to the office.

  “I’ve known you for a long time, Astrid,” Jensen says from the seat across from hers. “You’re stubborn and determined, a little naïve at times, but you’re not a quitter. If you were, you’d still be wearing that pink hat.”

  “I’m not quitting because I want to, Jensen. I’m quitting because the threat is too great. My actions have placed a target on the city.” She eyes him. “Why are you worried about it? I gave you the intel and told you my team is backing off. You should be happy.”

  “I am,” he says. “Suspicious, but happy you’ll be safe.”

  “Did you give Rowe the de
tails?”

  “Yes.” He rubs his chin. “It wasn’t much to go on.”

  “You guys have to decide if it’s credible but my gut tells me this is real. If it were up to me, I’d cancel the soccer match. Claim some problem with the stadium or whatever. Anything to keep people out of there that night.”

  He exhales. “I’ll try with the Mayor but he’s more stubborn than you are. And you still won’t tell me who your source is? That may encourage him.”

  “Nope.” She gives him a tight smile. “Can’t. Sorry.”

  Astrid feels a piece of tension drain out of Jensen. He was worried about her, no doubt about that, and for all their head-butting, she can’t fault him for caring. “Let me know if you hear anything else, okay?”

  “I will, but part of being out of the game is being fully out of it. You can’t have it both ways.”

  He stands and holds out his arms. She steps into them and they embrace. “Atticus would be proud of you, got it?”

  “Yeah,” she says, fighting back the tears. She doesn’t think this is how he would have liked for her to end her time as Echo, but he never would have wanted her to risk her life.

  “So,” he says, pulling away. “What are you going to do with all your free time, now that you’re not patrolling the city?”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to her but the memory of being with Quinn last night and the visual of Owen’s ripped body out on the parkour run flits through her mind. “I have a feeling I’ll stay busy.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Owen

  There’s an agreement in the house that they need to keep busy, away from the news and off the streets. Astrid’s been doing this long enough that separating herself from Echo is a challenge.

  “Kill that guy!” Astrid yells at Quinn. He’s playing a video game with Casper while bossing him from the sidelines. She’s covered head to toe, a sign of her anxiety. Cat hat on her head, gloved hands in her hoodie pocket. He wants to cuddle her like a teddy bear but Harry has planted himself in her lap, and even though they are (reluctant) buddies now, he’s not brave enough to move him.