The Protectors Series Bundle (A superhero romance anthology)

by Nana Malone

  It was also where the larger gangs from the neighboring Miami harvested some of their fresh blood. And where Riley’s scent lingered.

  As she crossed through an abandoned warehouse on the south side of the bridge, Symone couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She slunk into the shadows and checked her surroundings.

  Inhaling deeply, she filtered out all the scents of garbage, dank warehouses, and water, and focused instead on any aroma that shouldn’t have been there. This was the second time in two nights she’d had the heebie jeebies. She wasn’t going to take any chances.

  The musky scent of worn leather wandered on the breeze. It was too familiar. Last night she’d assumed it was the gang members’ leather jackets, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe it came from someone, or something else. Suddenly, a part of her wished she’d listened to Cassie. It was stupid to be out here without backup.

  And who was going to back up Riley if she didn’t? If she listened to her instincts, Riley would be dead by morning. Or worse. Symone shuddered as a memory of the Gentech Labs flitted through her consciousness. Yes, Virginia, there is something worse than death.

  Her eyes searched every nook and cranny of the surrounding warehouses. Nothing was out of place. There were no shadows that didn’t belong there. No hulking garbage bins to hide behind, but still her instincts screamed at her to run.

  Symone gritted her teeth. Riley was someone like her, who was lost and the world had given up on. If someone was watching her, she’d deal with them later.

  When she reached the bridge, she saw Riley sitting on one of the large stone blocks by the edge of the water.

  “Riley.”

  Riley jumped up, shirking her blanket and reaching for the knife at her side. “Shit, you scared me. What are you a ninja?”

  Symone put her hands up when she noted the girl’s knife. Yes. “Not exactly. You ready to go? I need to get you out of here.” Symone looked around again, unable to shake the feeling of eyes boring into her soul. “Alejandro and his buddy are in the hospital, but if they already sent Raul after you, they’re not going to stop coming. You’re not safe if you stay here.”

  Riley took a step back, her eyes narrowing. “How are you going to stop them?”

  “You let me worry about that. Are you ready to go?”

  Riley took another step back, eyes darting around. “Yeah, I—I just don’t want it to be my fault if you get hurt. You’re the only one I’ve met since I took off who’s actually tried to help me. You a social worker or something?”

  No one had ever called Symone a do-gooder or anything like it. She’d been called a monster often enough, but never a do-gooder. Shit, she couldn’t even get her friends to let their guard down around her. “Look. Let’s just say I’ve been where you are before. I’m just looking to help.” She also took a step back to give Riley some room. “I’ve got you a place to stay for a while. But the key is, we got to get you out of here before the Street Kings get wind of where we are. They might already know if they’re following you.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Exasperated, Symone puffed out a breath. “You called me, remember?”

  Riley rubbed a finger under her nose as she wrapped one arm around herself. “I got nowhere else to go. I might as well stick it out here and see what happens to me. I made a mistake calling you. No one’s going to die for me.”

  Symone’s patience wore thin. They didn’t have time, and she needed to get them both out of the open, before something worse than the Street Kings got to them. “You can pretend you have a death wish, but if you did, you’d already have shot yourself full of poison by now. There’s even crack and black diamond heroine around here to make it a junkie’s paradise. If you wanted the Street Kings to kill you last night, you would have just come out of hiding. You wouldn’t have called me. Right now you’re tired, and you want to give up, but I promise you, you don’t want to die. I know what it’s like to actually want death, and kid, this ain’t it. Now get your shit and let’s go.”

  Riley looked around, then darted a glance back at Symone as if weighing her options. Ancient fashion magazines littered the ground, some had dog-eared pages. A rolled-up sleeping bag sat next to the mags—dirty, but not too worn, like someone had taken care of it. And the same small backpack Riley had been carrying the night before sat amongst the sparse belongings. Riley grabbed her backpack and shoved a magazine into it before slinging it over her shoulder. Her chin went up a degree. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Symone fought to hide her smile. She knew the kid was smart. And given her fashion magazine obsession, Symone would bet she hadn’t been on her own too long. She led the way. “We’ll go through the alley, then cut over under Main using the tunnels. My car’s about a mile from here.”

  Riley’s brows furrowed, and she flattened her lips.

  “Yeah, I know, it’s not pretty down in the tunnels. But it’s the only way I can make sure you’re not seen. I didn’t want to pull the car up right here and announce my arrival, ya know?” Symone didn’t add that she worried about the scent of leather in the air. The kid didn’t need her trouble piled on. She’d get her safe, then deal with her Peeper.

  The two of them stuck to the shadows and avoided moonlit walkways. As they made a turn behind the old paper warehouse, the hair on the back of Symone’s neck stood at attention. She halted Riley’s movements by shoving her against the wall.

  “Hey, what the fu—”

  Symone clapped a hand over the teenager’s mouth. “Someone’s following us.” Symone knew there was no pretending they’d get away clean. She’d have to fight their way out.

  Riley’s eyes went wide, and she darted her eyes around. But to her credit, she didn’t make a sound. Just nodded her head.

  Symone sucked in a deep breath, trying to filter out the stench of the nearby dumpsters, trying to pinpoint the location of their stalkers. There it was—the acrid mix of cigarettes, body odor, and cheap malt liquor. She frowned. Another scent was just as strong. Ode to nicotine and B.O. with a scent of sulfur. She sniffed again. Gun powder. Fantastic. They had a gun.

  Going around them wasn’t going to be an option until she neutralized their ability to follow. She sniffed again to make sure she didn’t smell leather on the breeze, and then she ducked inside one of the unlocked doors of the abandoned furniture warehouse, tugging Riley behind her.

  Over-turned crates and inches-thick dust littered the floor with the usual assortment of old newspapers and trash. Symone pointed to the far corner. “See that crate there?”

  Riley nodded.

  “I want you to get inside. Wait for ten minutes. If I don’t come back, call number one on the speed dial and tell him exactly where you are. They’ll come for you and make sure you’re safe.” She slipped her cell phone into Riley’s hand.

  The teenager frowned. “Why wouldn’t you be back in ten minutes? You’re not going to go out there and fight those assholes are you? I—”

  Symone clamped a gloved hand over Riley’s mouth again. “We don’t have time to argue about it. The fastest way to the tunnels is just past those warehouses. We can go around, but given the gang has scouts everywhere, I want to minimize who sees you. I’ll make sure these guys are incapacitated, then we’ll move.”

  Riley had to use both hands to peel Symone’s fingers off her mouth. “Are you going to kill them?”

  Symone walked Riley to the crate and tucked her inside, double checking that the strings of her tattered army issue jacket and backpack couldn’t be seen. “Not if I can help it. Ten minutes max, all right? Not a minute more.”

  Riley nodded, sending her red hair tumbling around her shoulders.

  Symone turned from her and peeled off her gloves. “Time for me to go hunting.” She pulled her hood up over her hair, and taking one last deep breath, turned back to make sure Riley was hidden. Satisfied, she shoved open the side door as far away from Riley’s hiding place as she could. Striding down the alley,
she shouted out, “I heard some assholes were looking for me and a friend of mine. I’d rather dispose of you now, if you don’t mind. I got places to be.”

  She heard a chuckle from the shadows at the other end of the alley. “You know, Julio said you were funny. He told me ‘Kill that funny bitch or die trying.’”

  Symone grimaced. “Ouch. Sounds like Julio doesn’t value you if he thinks it’s okay for you to die trying.” She flexed her fingers, willing the blood to flow into them. “’Cause I don’t have any problems killing you. My boss might not like it, but the way I see it, if you’re here to kill me, then she’ll overlook it.”

  A lanky male with stringy, greasy, black hair to his shoulders stepped into the dim light. “When I’m done killing you, I’ll add that puta to my list.”

  Symone smiled. “I’d love to see what she does to you, but I have to tell you, I don’t think you’d live very long. It really wouldn’t be a fair match.” She looked behind her opponent’s lanky form. “Where’s your friend? The one who reeks of cigarettes? You might want to tell him that those things will kill him.” She shrugged. “If I don’t get him first.”

  Greasy, stringy hair guy cocked his head. “Where’s your friend, Riley? She’s the one we really want. No need for someone as pretty as you to die.”

  Symone rolled her eyes, but shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet. The heartbeat behind her already alerted her to Greasy’s companion trying to catch her unawares from behind. “Flattery will only get you killed. Let’s dance.” A slight click, like a round slipping into a chamber of a gun, had her springing into action. She lunged out of the way as the first gunshot pierced the night air.

  Flattening herself against the warehouse wall, she pinpointed the shorter of the two men. Symone’s keen hearing picked up the sound of metal grating on metal again, about ten feet to her left. He had no idea where she was. Likely he wanted to scare her into giving away her exact location.

  Sprinting out of the darkness, she tackled him to the ground. She was careful not to put her hands on his bare skin. Grabbing the sleeve of his gun arm she banged it on the pavement with such force his wrist cracked, and he howled. Writhing underneath her, he managed to free his right arm and clocked her in the chin with his elbow. Her head snapped back, but she didn’t let go, straddling him like she would a horse.

  His head fell back against the pavement, and she wondered what the hell had happened. But a split second later, he brought it back up and slammed his forehead into hers. She saw stars.

  As she wrestled with him, he rolled them to the side and tried to climb on top of her, but she cranked an arm across his neck and shoved her knee into his groin. Only a low grunt escaped his lips as he rolled away. Carefully, she touched a fingertip to his temple. The electric charge she felt when she touched people was light like the shock from static, but she knew all too well the effect she had on others. She held her fingertip still for ten seconds before letting go. It wasn’t an exact science. But he should be out for a few hours. If she’d held on for much longer, she would likely have put him into a coma. He wouldn’t have been the first.

  No one knew quite how her powers worked. Not even Peter Reeser had known exactly. The only way he’d worked out to test her abilities was to have her put her hands on someone. He’d never been very successful with his experiments as his subjects kept going into shock. And Doctor Ternery, the doctor on the compound, was especially careful with her. Even the most casual contact could send a human into convulsions. Shoot, the slightest contact did the same to her super crew.

  With every touch, she sent an electric current strong enough to fell an elephant. Worse, there was almost always some transfer of energy. She sometimes got flashes of memories, or worse, personality traits. In the case of the others on the compound, she sometimes picked up their powers. Those were the worst. Never being able to trust her own body. Everyone looked at her like she was some kind of power leech. It was safer never to touch anyone. It was why she was out her on her own. Exiled.

  Symone stood over Greasy’s body, scanning their surroundings for hints of his friend. In a move as automatic to her as walking, she pulled her gloves from her pocket and slipped them back on. The wave of malevolence rolling through her body was enough to make her want to fight the others the old fashioned way. She didn’t want any more putrid personality following her around. The sooner she found them, the sooner she could get back to Riley.

  Once she picked up the scent, her hearing automatically focused to pinpoint her shadow’s location. The click and scrape of metal on metal alerted her to another round in a chamber. Shit. A second gun?

  The brief shatter of the sound barrier forced her into action. She darted to the side and ducked for cover. As she rolled into a pile of trash bags, large beefy hands reached into the darkness, yanked her behind the dumpster, and slammed her against the warehouse wall. As her teeth clattered together, the rest of her senses tried to assimilate the new information.

  A baritone voice whispered in her ear. “Do you go looking for trouble? Sooner or later it’s going to find you.”

  A shiver stole up her spine as the scent of worn leather wrapped around her. Oh god. This was what Cassie had been talking about. This was what happened when she wasn’t careful. “Look. I don’t have any money. But if you’re looking for cash or for a score, those thugs in the alley are probably holding.”

  His chuckle was low. And it made her whole body tingle as the sound washed over her. What the hell was going on with her? She needed to get back to Riley. Instead, she was standing here numb, while this moron put his big beefy hands all over her and patted her down for weapons. When his hands skimmed up over her thighs, her knees wobbled as need slammed into her. Frightened by the unfamiliar sensations, she fought his hold. “Let me go, you stupid oaf. I already told you I’m not holding anything.”

  “Who said I wanted drugs or cash?” He chuckled again, and the butterflies in her stomach danced somewhere dangerously close to bliss.

  The sensation pissed her off. “If you’re thinking of doing something stupid, I would advise against it. You won’t be walking away from the experience.” She couldn’t see his face clearly for the shadows, but she saw his full lips flatten. From her position, all she could tell was he was maybe Caucasian, maybe Latino. Big—at least 6’4”. He had huge hands and was in serious need of a shave. From the angle he pressed her against the wall, she couldn’t even tell his hair color or length. It didn’t reach his collar, so it could have been shaved or pulled back into a pony tail, for all she knew.

  “I might be an asshole, but I’m not that kind of asshole.” He leaned in as if sniffing her. “Of course if you’re a willing participant, it wouldn’t really make me an asshole now would it?”

  Symone narrowed her eyes. Had he just—A niggling little detail burrowed into the recesses of her mind. She breathed in deep again. Ignoring the garbage and alcohol smells of the underbelly of Miami, she focused on his scent. Worn leather and something else. It was fleeting, but it was there. Something familiar. She couldn’t pinpoint it until her mind replayed their previous scene. The way he’d lifted her off the ground as if she were no heavier than child. The way she’d sensed someone following her. Given that her route had been cloaked, there was no way he should have been able to follow her. Ordinary humans didn’t have those kinds of abilities.

  One thought made her swallow hard. Tracker. Amped up, superhero kind of Tracker. He was too strong not to be amplified. They’d finally found her.

  Chapter Five

  Symone struggled in the big brute’s grasp. “What the hell do you want from me?”

  He didn’t speak, but his hands tightened on her arms, and a brief flash of alarm snaked up her spine. There was no more Gentech. What the hell were Trackers doing following her around?

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Someone wants to bring you back to the fold.”

  She froze. Reeser. Peter was alive. Cassie had been right. When Cassie, Seth
, and Jansen had rescued them all six months ago, they’d seen the building where they were kept blow up with Peter Reeser in it. But following their escape, Seth had a premonition that Reeser hadn’t died in the blast and that he’d eventually come for them. At the time, Symone had tried to pretend it wasn’t real. After all, she’d seen the news reports. She’d seen the building blow up. There’d been nothing left after Cassie, Seth, and Jansen were through with it.

  Cassie had tried to hammer vigilance in staying hidden to them. Careful didn’t even begin to cover the level of precautions that had been taken. Until Symone had screwed up. She’d started volunteering a month ago and gotten her damn photo in the paper. It was all too easy to pretend there was no threat when Gentech was long gone. But all twelve of them had something to lose more valuable than their lives. Their freedom.

  Symone shook her head. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not going anywhere with you.” She struggled again, and his grip just got tighter. “How did you find me anyway?”

  His mouth slanted into a harsh line. It wasn’t a smile, more grimace really. “Reaper’s still got use of his gifts, despite his accident.”

  Reaper? Who the fu—Ahh, Peter had given himself a nickname, had he? Well if that asshole got a nickname, then she sure as shit wanted one. Unfortunately this little piece of information meant he was still able to lock and pinpoint location. If focused enough, he could see through the eyes of the person he wanted to find. When Cassie had escaped with Seth’s assistance, Peter had been able to track her no matter where she’d gone. Everywhere they went they’d been dogged by Trackers. But, just like she and Cassie had limitations to their powers, so did Peter.

  Symone took a deep breath. She was in a situation of her own making. It was up to her to get out. “There must be something you want.” She lowered her lashes. “Something I could give you not to send me back.” Like an electric shock to ring your bell right into the afterlife.