by Angel Lawson
“Where were you five minutes ago,” she asks, wiping her forehead.
“You bolted. Not my fault.”
“Casper sent you up here?” she asks, glancing at Owen.
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
Quinn stops and holds his hands up.
“What?”
“I feel it. The electrical system—generators—or something. Right on this hall.” He moves away from the others.
“Where are you going?”
“To do what I do best.”
She and Owen watch him disappear behind a black door.
“Ready to go in?” she asks, feeling completely lost. There’s no way this will work. She barges into the owner’s box without knocking and finds herself in a room full of people decked out in Crescent City colors. They’re oddly quiet.
Out the window, the massive clock ticks down rapidly, eight minutes.
She recognizes a man by the window and says, “Mr. Mayor—” but he turns and what she sees startles her.
He’s wearing a bomb too.
“Why are you here?” he cries, and she slowly realizes that the whole place is filled with people wearing bombs. “You’re supposed to be on the field. He said he wouldn’t kill us if you were on the field. Why aren’t you on the field?!”
“What the hell?” Owen mutters, but Astrid has no idea. None. What is Rowe doing?
The lights flicker, browning before going out for good. Emergency lights blink on, including the giant scoreboard, still ticking down the time, five minutes... Hysteria rises in the stadium, the players stop mid-game and a voice, a familiar, douche-y voice comes across the sound system. Rowe.
“People of Crescent City, remain calm. Stay in your seats. The game will resume soon.”
“Casper?” Astrid calls into her com. “What’s happening here.”
“Three m-m-m-minutes, babe.”
But she doesn’t think they have three minutes, and Quinn races back in the room. “He says three minutes?” she says to him, all too aware of the scoreboard clock. “Why?”
“Do you trust him?” He reaches for her and touches the collar on her neck. She nods. “Hold my hand,” he offers one to Owen too.” He glances at the mayor and the others. “If you’ve got one of these around your necks, take a hand and don’t let go.”
Down on the field, there’s movement caught in the glaring emergency lights. The players have moved off the pitch and one man moves to the center ring: Rex. He holds up his hand. The detonator.
A flash comes from the sidelines and Draco, hulking and determined, charges Rex. The two fall and Rex may be invincible but Draco punches like a freight train, taking out the man and snatching the detonator out of his hands.
The clock ticks down: ten seconds, nine, eight, seven… Owen squeezes one hand and Quinn has the other. Owen’s eyes are closed tight and he mumbles under his breath. Praying? Cursing? She wants to kiss his mouth and make it all go away.
Five, four, three…
On the field, Draco yanks off his collar and throws as hard as he can in the air and presses the button.
A blast rolls over all of them and she waits for the end, but there’s just the heat coming off Quinn and the strength of his shield. The bombs on their necks flicker hot and then fizzle, lifeless and deactivated. The one in the air explodes but is small and uneventful.
When it’s clear they’re safe and that it’s over, Quinn lowers releases her hand and kisses her hard on the lips. “Let me get the lights back on,” he says, leaving her bewildered.
Mayor Steel touches his throat and Owen walks over, using his increased strength to pull the dead device off his neck.
“Thank you,” the mayor says, through noticeable guilt. He should be. He was willing to let a terrorist kill them.
Feedback screeches over the sound system.
“Sorry for the in-in-in-interruption, soccer fans! Hope y-y-you enjoyed the half-time show. Just a l-l-little reenactment of how super the Supers of Crescent City really are.”
The crowd cheers at the shout-out, giving Astrid the warm fuzzies. That and the fact Casper is speaking. In public. Shit is getting real.
*
They leave the way they normally do, out the back door with no fanfare. The city, other than the mayor, has no idea how bad tonight could have been without Casper’s and Quinn’s abilities to hack the hell of out of a computer and electrical system.
Jensen meets them outside in the parking lot, using his police light as a cover.
“Good work tonight,” he tells them, looking exhausted and worn out. “Unfortunately, Rowe got away.”
“And Rex,” Draco adds. He’s got a wicked bruise under his eye.
“Of course he did,” Owen mutters, running his hand through his hair.
“We’ll find him,” Jensen says, glancing at Astrid. “If we work together.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. She eyes each of her men, letting her eyes linger on Casper. “We’re stronger together. Look at what we did tonight.”
The Goblin drops his eyes to the pavement. She knows it’s too soon to push him too hard. But they’ll get through this. She knows it. For now, she’ll give him space.
“So, what’s next?” Quinn asks Jensen.
“Finding out who Rowe’s boss really is,” he says.
“Rex gave us some details,” Astrid says. “We may be able to use some of it.”
“T-t-tomorrow,” Casper says. “I-I-I’ve used up my daylight hours.”
Draco claps him on the back. “Let’s get you home.”
Quinn steps next to her as they watch the two men walk across the parking lot. “You made some progress, with both of them.”
“I think so.”
“They make us stronger. It’s worth it.”
She smiles. “Yeah, I think so too.”
The crowd starts to leave the stadium and people trickle into the parking lot. “You ready?”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” she says, taking his hand and then Owen’s in the other. It was a long night. A trying night, and she never wants to do anything like that again. But with these guys? She’ll fight anyone—any time. Rowe’s day is coming, and she’ll be the one to bring him to justice.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Astrid
She’s leaning over the balcony rail when the door opens and closes behind her. She hasn’t been able to sleep; too many thoughts occupying her mind about the past few days. Her body aches from the fight earlier, the punch she took from Rowe and the bruise around her throat.
The man behind her has an overwhelming presence. Powerful, and he told her he wouldn’t waste it if he had another chance. Is that why Draco’s here?
Cautious want flickers in her belly. What if he changed his mind?
He silently stands behind her for so long that she finally breaks the quiet and asks, “Second thoughts?”
“No.” His fingers graze her neck and she shivers. “Just taking you in.”
Astrid glances over her shoulder and takes him in. The broad chest, the sharp jaw, the hot desire in his eyes. She starts to turn but he moves quickly, pressing his body against her back. It’s sweet. Intimate. And she allows herself to lean into him.
He lifts her hair and kisses her neck, her ear, down the line of her jaw. It feels amazing—he feels amazing, and the stress and drama from the day dissipates with each and every touch.
She feels the strain in his pants, the hard heat growing between them. Arching her back, she rubs against him, loving that she excites him—because damn, the man is hard to read, but this? Crystal clear.
“I’m glad you came,” she says, turning to face him. She places her hands on his chest. “I was worried you couldn’t accept this—us.”
His lips curve into a smile. “I won’t lie—it’s a little weird for me. I’ve never been with a woman like you, and I’ve certainly never been part of a team like this. But I get it. I got it today when Rowe clamped that collar around y
our neck. When he clamped it around all of your necks, I knew I would lose something huge.” He brushes his nose across hers. “I don’t want to lose you or this team.”
“I don’t want to lose you either. And we can take it slow. On your terms. I know it’s a big change for you.”
He kisses her then, deep and passionately. His tongue slips in her mouth and she feels it down in her toes. Draco is pure, intense, and completely true. He’s genuine. If he wants her, he wants her. If he’s in, he’s in. She has no doubt about that.
Above the lights of the city, he shows her his commitment one kiss at a time and she proves to him she has what it takes to be with a man like him—as well as the others. They beat the clock once today. No one’s going to rush them now.
*
They stay up ‘til dawn, snuggled up from the wind, leaning against the glass door. The sunset crests over the Swamp, casting it in a shimmery glow. They talked all night, getting to know one another. And they kissed. Lord, they kissed.
Their bliss is interrupted by the grumbling growl of Astrid’s stomach. She clamps a hand over it and laughs. “I need waffles. So bad.”
They enter the dormitory holding hands. Harry greets them at the door and she scoops him up. He crawls up her shoulder to get a sniff of the man behind her. The cat doesn’t seem impressed but he also doesn’t hiss at Draco, so maybe it’s a pass.
Astrid hears the guys in the kitchen and heads that way. Draco pulls her to a stop before they leave the hallway. “You sure they’re okay with this?”
She laughs and shakes her head. This one. So big. So strong. So oddly insecure.
“Dude,” she hears Quinn say, “did you touch my kefir?”
“What the hell is a kefir?”
“It’s like milk but made out of grain enzymes,” Quinn explains. “It’s really good for gut health.”
“Grain enzymes? Are you fucking with me?”
“No. It kind of looks like yogurt. I had a bottle from the health food store in the refrigerator door and now it’s gone.”
From their hiding spot around the corner, Astrid rolls her eyes and stifles a laugh. Draco just looks amused.
“Oh that? Yeah, I thought that was spoiled milk. I threw it out.”
“You did what! That cost twelve dollars!”
“No. It was rotten milk. Even Harry wouldn’t eat that garbage.”
Harry perks up when Owen says his name and he jumps from her arms, running to his friend. The two men in the kitchen look up and take in Astrid and Draco.
“Hi,” Quinn says. “We were wondering where you were.”
“Just up on the balcony.” She squeezes Draco’s hand. Quinn nods his approval and turns back to the refrigerator. “Draco said he’d make some waffles.”
Owen’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah? I don’t know, Quinn probably can’t eat a waffle, too many carbs or not enough parasites or something.”
“I don’t eat parasites,” Quinn snaps. “Probiotics. You should try some. Your stomach is a mess.”
“How do you know?”
“We share a bathroom!”
This devolves into another argument and Astrid ignores them, going to the cabinet for ingredients for waffles. These fools aren’t keeping her from breakfast. Plus, she kind of wants to see Draco wear an apron.
“Are they like this all the time?” Draco whispers, taking the mixing bowl and flour from her.
“Yes, but I’ve heard this is how big families act with one another.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Where did you hear this?”
“Fine, I saw it on the Disney channel.” She smiles. “It’s another weird thing at first, after being so isolated for so long, but now I like it.”
“You think we’ll ever get Casper up here?”
She leans against the counter and kisses him, right in front of the others, who are too busy arguing over kale versus spinach and who left the toilet paper roll on the bathroom counter to even notice.
“Oh yeah, I’m not stopping until I’ve won him over entirely.”
“And Rowe?”
She frowns. “He’s not invited. Sorry.”
“No,” he slips his arm around her. “Are we taking him out?”
“Him and his boss. They’re on my list.” She pushes a spoon into his hand. “Like waffles. Like Casper. Like those two idiots over there and definitely like you.”
“Draco, you believe in eating healthy,” Quinn says. “You have to, right? Because you’re a beast.”
“Dude was made that way,” Owen cries. “Genetically superior. He can eat whatever he wants!”
Draco turns to them and begins a long explanation about his personal diet and Astrid walks past them all to get the eggs out of the refrigerator. She takes a peek over the door, getting an eyeful of the men in her life, happy to see them all in one place, simply living with one another.
This is what Atticus wanted for her. It’s why he died. He wanted her to have a family and a purpose and even in the midst of dangerous people, she has it. She glances toward the heavens and says a quick thanks, and then joins her amazing group of men. Whatever they do, it will happen together. Fighting, saving and loving.
She can’t wait.
Thank you for reading Rogues: The Supers of Project 12, book 3 of the series! I love sharing this series with you guys and book 4, Heroes, will be out soon.
~*~
I wanted to take a chance to thank everyone that has encouraged me on this journey. I know this series is a little different but my favorite thing about the readers in reverse harem is their willingness to try something new. Astrid and her team needed a chance to come to life and three books in there is so much to explore.
Thank you to Jennifer for beta reading for me and always giving me hard but needed advice. Thank you to Vanessa for her editing services (VC Edits) and AngstyG for her fantastic covers. Thank you for the awesome ARC readers that do such an amazing job and the member of Angel’s Antics for fun times and support.
I’ll see you soon!
Angel
Looking for a new read? Try Huntress: Trial of Gods by Angel Lawson & LJ Swallow. Here’s a quick teaser!
Huntress: Trial of Gods
Chapter One
The day the sun eclipsed, a shadow crossed my soul. As I stood with the younger girls, and watched the sky darken, the birds stopped their song. The heat of the day vanished as the ring of fire enveloped the moon. Many have never seen an eclipse, and we reassured them the world wasn’t ending. The older women whispered that the gods were angry. I don’t believe in their old tales, but something felt wrong, unnatural, with the way the moon blocked out the sun.
I can’t explain why, but even after sun that reappeared it no longer held the same warmth as before. A chill settled in my bones.
Since that day a week ago, I’ve dreamed about my brother Apollo again, and when I wake in the night I see his face in the face of the moon.
The forest is warm this time of year, even after the sun dips behind the trees. My skin is salty with sweat, my hands stained from a day on the hunt. I killed a deer and two rabbits—all three with my bow. Iris took the bodies into the shed where she’ll skin and prep them for winter.
Victoria walks next to me, eyes ever alert on our way to the falls. My bow hangs on my back, still dirty from today’s hunt. “A few more days like this and we’ll be set for harsh weather, don’t you think?”
I nod in agreement, stepping over the roots and rocky path with my bare feet. “Iris will cure the meat. Hestia has grown enough herbs and spices to keep us in stock.”
It always seems too early to prepare for winter—for the lean days ahead—but two decades of living in the forests have taught me it’s never enough.
“Thank Zeus we do not have to worry about feeding males. Dione told me she watched them eat in the village. Barbaric, shoving handfuls in their mouth like swine.” She jabs me in the rib. “Sort of like you.”
I frown as much at her for invoking Zeus’ nam
e as making fun of me. “I’m not that bad.”
She raises her eyebrows and a teasing grin lifts her lips. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed the difference between us. Her skin tans and turns a golden brown. Her eyes are bright blue like the sky. She has dainty fingers and her feet are never black with grime like my own. But she works in the settlement, not out in the woods like I do. Her calling isn’t with a bow and arrow but with keeping order for all the females.
There’s still a last bit of sunlight when we reach the edge of the falls and I peer into the clear pool, getting a look at myself. Red, wild hair that falls halfway down my back. My eyes are dark green. My cheek has a smear of dirt or blood across my pale skin. Even though I ruffled at Victoria’s comment barbaric may not be the wrong description. I’ve always had a desire for freedom, a urge to climb trees and hunt in the depths of the forest.
Which is fortunate, because I have no other choice.
Setting my bow on a large rock, I peel off the leather tunic and pants and leave them on the grass. The water is cool against my hot skin providing relief from a weary day. Victoria strips, leaving her smock and skirt next to mine. I watch her enter the water. Her breasts are smaller than mine. Her belly a bit rounder. Her hair is never knotted like a wren’s nest. Not like my own. Hers is sleek and combed—braided neatly down her back.
“Here,” she says, offering me something from her satchel. It’s small lump of soap. “Aceso made it yesterday.”
I hold it up to my nose. “Smells like lavender.”
“She found a patch growing near the back fields.”
We lather and scrub, sharing the soap. Victoria takes a moment to remove a stubborn patch of dirt from my back. “Oh, your necklace is caught in your hair.” I feel her fingers gently pull away my hair from the chain. I touch the charm hanging from the front. It’s a half of a golden sun, the rays blazing like fiery hair. It’s my most prized possession--other than my bow. Since the eclipse it has felt like a heavy stone and not the delicate forged gold.
