The Supers of Project 12: The Complete Superhero Series

by Angel Lawson

  Making love to Astrid certainly changed their dynamic. He felt it when she orgasmed, today in the fight. Quinn may be right. That means the three of them are stronger than anyone ever anticipated. It brings another question to light.

  “Do you think she knows?”

  He nods. “To a degree.”

  “And the others, Draco? Casper? Where do they fit into this?”

  “However she wants them to.” His eyes dart to the gym entrance and he grimaces. Owen turns to see what he’s reacting to and spots the man striding in the front door.

  “Fuck.”

  “You said it. Come on,” Quinn replies, already at the stairwell.

  Trouble seems to find them even when they’re not looking. He follows Quinn down the stairs and hopes everyone keeps their cool.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Astrid

  “Sorry, some of my customers are jerks,” she says, walking up to Luby. He’s cleaning up the weights left out. Some are massive, which makes it hard to clean up. Luby’s nineteen, skinny, and spends too many nights huffing chemicals while tagging the bridges and underpasses of the city. Astrid helps him with a fifty-pound weight and slides it back into the holder.

  “Saw you whip up on that guy over there,” he says. “You’re pretty strong.”

  She flexes her bicep. “You want a trainer? I can set you up with Mick after work. No charge.”

  He wrinkles his nose. “Eh, I’ve got obligations.”

  His grandmother. Right.

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

  “Thanks,” he says, lifting a barbell and moving to its spot on the shelf. “And thanks for the job.”

  “You had a good recommendation.”

  Luby doesn’t know Astrid is Echo. The mask’s properties keep her disguised. “So you know the girl in the suit. Echo, they call her.”

  “I do.”

  He nods, hair flopping in his eyes. “She’s cool.”

  She can’t fight the smile. “Yeah, I think so too. She said you needed some help—could use a job. I’m always happy to support people in the community.”

  He looks down at his paint-stained hands. “There’s some crazy stuff going on out there right now. Sometimes I tip her off when I hear things, but I don’t know. I’m getting a weird vibe lately.”

  “Like what?”

  “That task force the Mayor has out there. I’m not sure they’re really on the level. They’re getting awfully chummy with some of the guys in the Swamp.”

  “Bad guys?” He shrugs and moves to stack the workout mats. “Sometimes the police and other community leaders try to make connections, you know, get a feel for the area. It’s not always a bad thing.”

  “Yeah maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced and adds. “If you see your friend, tell her to watch out. I think something bad is coming.”

  “Bad like the parade?”

  “I don’t know. Just…bad.”

  “Thanks for the tip. I’ll let her know.”

  She turns to leave and he grabs her by the arm. “Tell her to be careful and to double check any police reports. The criminals aren’t the only thing to be worried about in the Swamp right now.”

  She nods her thanks. “Gotcha. Thanks, Luby.”

  He glances over his shoulder and his energy changes. Quickly he turns back to his work, fear rolling off his body in waves. She turns to see what spooked him and it’s not hard to find the culprit.

  Rowe.

  He strides in the front door dressed in his black military-grade task force uniform. Two others wait outside. All eyes turn to watch him and he walks through the gym like a god. He’s strapped with weapons and carries a roll of papers in his hand. Astrid senses rather than sees Owen and Quinn enter near the office. She crosses the floor and meets him before he makes it too far.

  “Rowe,” she says, trying to keep her personal feelings aside. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Thought you may want to see one of your old recruits on the job.” His grin is smug and he knows it’s for Quinn as much as it is for her. “Guess sleeping with the instructor isn’t the way to the top.”

  She shoots Quinn a look to stand down but Owen is already on it, holding their teammate by the arm.

  “I see you’re with the task force.”

  “Leader of it.” He points to a badge on his chest.

  “Impressive. I told Jensen you’d be good in the right position.”

  “Yeah, it’s my job to get this city back in order after the fiasco during the parade. We’ve got night patrols, undercover agents, community liaisons, but mostly we’re tasked with shutting down the vigilante behavior.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and keeps her face impassive. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

  He shrugs. “Anyway, I’m doing a stop by of all the businesses on the Harbor Line. You may have heard about the charity soccer game the Mayor is hosting to rebuild the part of the Harbor Line destroyed by the parade, I’ve got some promotional material for you.”

  “He thinks another public event is a good idea?” Owen asks, stepping forward for the poster. Astrid glances at it and sees the date is a few weeks away. Location, the Crescent City Stadium.

  “It’s not my job to second-guess the boss, but this one is for ticket holders only, and with your friend in the loony-bin it should run more smoothly.” Astrid bristles at the description of Demetria, both as her friend and the slander.

  “What about these ’vigilantes’ running around the city. Aren’t you afraid they’ll show up?”

  “I dare them to.” He laughs. “So how are things? Local businesses seem to be targets for some of the discontent with the progress being made in this area. Have you had any problems?”

  “No. We get along well with the community.”

  “That doesn’t seem to help. I know you’ve got security here and you think you can handle yourself, but tensions are rising out there.” He pulls a card from his pocket. “Don’t be afraid to call me if something comes up.”

  She takes it. “Sure.”

  He leans over and adds in a low voice, “Call me day or night. I’m here for any and all your needs.” His eyes flick over her shoulder, obviously at Quinn. “You know, once you get tired of fucking the help.”

  Before he can straighten, Astrid shifts into motion. She stomps on his foot and grabs the gun out of his holster. Kneeing him in the face, she takes both elbows and slams down on his back and then kicks his feet out from under him. She aims the weapon at his head. Rowe’s jaw clenches in rage.

  “I could arrest you,” he says. A bruise starts to swell by his jaw.

  “Do it,” she says, cocking the trigger. “And see who wins that fight too.”

  They stare at one another until he concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. She releases the trigger and holds the gun in the air. Quinn is by her side in an instant and takes it from her.

  “No one comes into my house and disrespects me. Get him the fuck out of here,” she says, glaring down at him. She knew he was a psychopath and told Jensen to be careful. Too bad he didn’t listen. “And don’t step foot in my building again, got it?”

  He doesn’t get the chance to respond before he’s lifted off the ground by Owen and Quinn. She turns, aware that the whole gym is watching her. Mick and the guys training on the Parkour run. She doesn’t care, other than connecting with Luby, who stares at her like he’s seen a ghost.

  He knows better than anyone she most likely stepped in a hornet’s nest she can’t get out of. Rowe won’t back down now. If anything, Astrid just made the target on her team and everyone associated with her bigger than ever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Astrid

  Beer sloshes out of the pitcher and spills down the side. Owen curses at the loss but Astrid just slides over her glass. She needs another drink. They all do.

  “How long before he comes back?” Quinn asks from across the table. The primary topic that night had been how Astrid
shamed and humiliated Rowe, but they all know there will be a price to pay.

  “He won’t come in the front door,” she says, licking the beer off her thumb. “He’ll jump me on the street or arrest me for something else.”

  “You think Jensen will intervene?” Owen asks.

  “No idea what is going through Jensen’s head these days.” She holds up her glass for a toast. “Here’s to being impulsive and pissing off a psychopath.”

  They clink glasses. Owen tosses his arm over her shoulder. “You did it spectacularly. That’s what counts. And to be completely honest, I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.”

  She and Quinn both roll their eyes.

  “God, he’s such a prick,” she says, feeling the alcohol now. It’s warm and makes her lips feel numb. She works her way under Owen’s arm, liking the way he smells. “Why didn’t one of you stop me?”

  “Who knew you’d disarm a special agent in the middle of the gym?” Quinn says. “I thought you were just going to berate him.”

  “Nope.” Owen smiles. “If As goes down, she’s going down in flames.”

  “And taking you all with me.”

  “We’re a team, babe. That’s how it works.” Quinn smiles across the table and Owen nods in agreement. “We knew going in, self-control is not your strong suit.”

  “I’ve corrupted you both,” she says, easing out of the booth. “Don’t worry, just going to the ladies’ room. I think I can do that without starting a civil war.”

  No one at the table seems comforted by that statement.

  The music in the bar is loud, indie rock. Better than the emo shit they play at Skull Knockers near the university. They decided to go to one of the new places down by the water. Support the Harbor Line. It’s their home and no one, including Rowe and his band of merry dicks, is going to intimidate her otherwise.

  She’s in and out of the bathroom quickly, only stopping to wash the beer off her hands and take a quick look in the mirror. She forwent her standard leggings and hoodie for the night, opting for a tight black shirt with long sleeves. The jeans are skinny, stuck to her like a second skin, and her boots black with a sharp, pointed heel. She even took a minute to dust powder over her nose and coat her lashes in mascara. The guys noticed, their bodies betraying them the second she came into sight. The affect she has on them is empowering—to them as well as her.

  Drying her hands, she keeps her gloves in her back pocket—something she’s trying to do more and more as she learns to control her abilities.

  Three girls enter the bathroom, giggling and smelling of smoke. She walks past them waving her hand in front of her face but stops short the second she enters the hallway.

  Someone is waiting for her.

  “Heard you were back here,” Draco says. He’s devastatingly handsome. The gray of his button-down matches his eyes. The short haircut accentuates the strong line of his jaw. An expensive silver watch circles his wrist. He looks out of place here, like he got lost on the way back from a corporate retreat and is just slumming for the night.

  Is that what Draco’s doing? Slumming it?

  “Is this something you do?” she asks. “Lurk around women’s bathrooms?”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  “Here?”

  He grimaces at the bathroom door. “Maybe outside.”

  “I should tell the guys so they don’t worry.”

  He touches my elbow, steadying her wobbly feet. “I already did. They know you’re with me.”

  Safe is what he means, because that’s who Draco is. A protector. No wonder Casper gave him a shield as his primary weapon. He walks away from the bar and pushes open the back door. It leads them to a small back patio lit with a string of lights. Flat beds of sand stretch across the patio. It’s a bocce ball course. She rolls her eyes. Freaking hipsters.

  Water laps nearby. They’re right on the harbor. They find a bench overlooking the water and sit.

  “I heard about what happened today.”

  “Oh yeah?” She can’t imagine Owen or Quinn contacting him. “So Casper won’t talk to me but he’ll watch?”

  He laughs. “Pretty much.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “The task force is no joke, Astrid. You don’t need the extra attention right now.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Let a thug with a badge come in my business and threaten me?”

  “Of course not. But there has to be some kind of middle ground.”

  She eyes him. The shadows of the lamplight make him even more handsome. “You don’t seem like a man that understands the middle ground. I think you’re pretty black and white when it comes to things.”

  “There’s a right and a wrong. I try to stay on the right.”

  “Where does Demetria fall into that? Where does Project 12? Casper? There’s a lot of shades of gray you’re dealing with.” She feels the tension in him, the conflict and confusion. He came here for a reason, most likely one he can’t define. “Did you come down here to tell me to be careful?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you come down here to make sure I was okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you come down here because you don’t trust me or Owen or Quinn to stay out of trouble?”

  His lip quirks. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “You’re not our dad, Draco. Relax. Join us for a drink. Socialize.”

  He wrinkles his nose.

  “You know it may help Casper understand the importance of the group if you join in every once in a while.”

  Understanding flickers in his eyes.

  “One drink.”

  “Perfect.”

  “For Casper.”

  “Obviously.” She smiles and links her arm with his. “Hey! Have you ever played bocce?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Draco

  With strategic heft, the weighted blue ball flies though the air and lands with a plop in the sand. There’s silence and one gasp of disbelief when it doesn’t roll but it does knock a similar yellow ball on the side, bumping it out of its slot for first position.

  The small group of spectators, who Draco suspects are well aware that they’re watching four genetically superior individuals, break into cheers. One person isn’t so pleased.

  “You. Cheated.”

  Draco smiles at Astrid, tipping the bottle of beer to his lips and taking a refreshing, victorious pull. The woman on her own is a spit-fire. Competitive and angry? She’s a damned wrathful goddess.

  “I don’t cheat.”

  “Of course you don’t,” she mutters, like this is a bad thing. “You’re just all perfectly-perfect at all the things, right?”

  He shrugs. “Your nickname, not mine.”

  He walks into the sand with Quinn and picks up the balls. Owen has found himself an empty seat by the fire pit and warms his hands.

  Astrid approaches him and grabs her yellow balls. She’s beyond tipsy and her nose and cheeks are flushed. Her eyes spark with perceived injustice. Without warning, he pushes her hair over her shoulder. The wind from the harbor tangles it more every minute they’re out on the patio. She pauses and there’s an awkward moment that follows.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles. She was right about him joining them. This was more fun than he expected. He glances at his watch. “I should probably head out. I’ve got a meeting at WIND-E in the morning.”

  “More world domination?” Owen asks.

  “Insurance settlement with the city over the street damage.”

  “Ouch,” Quinn says. He takes the seat next to Owen.

  “Yeah, the board probably won’t like it if I show up reeking of alcohol and with sand in my shoes.”

  “Meeting or not, you don’t get to leave yet. I get a chance to even the score.”

  Even drunk, Astrid’s a fierce competitor. Her sense of balance and accuracy match his own. She surely has speed over him due to her smaller stature, but the fac
t they’re a good fit in so many ways unnerves him.

  “One game,” he agrees. “Just so I can destroy you.”

  “You guys in?” she asks the others but they’re not moving from their chairs.

  “Go for it, As,” Owen says. “Kick him in the, uh, bocce balls.”

  Quinn shakes his head and mutters something about Owen being a dumbass.

  “Oh well,” she says, stepping up to the line. The yellow ball rests in her hands. “Their loss.”

  Draco glances over his shoulder and notices both men have their eyes on Astrid’s ass as she slightly bends to throw the ball. His eyes dart down instinctively and a flood of dirty thoughts fill his mind.

  Again.

  Her ball flies through the air, coming within five inches of the small white target.

  Astrid fist pumps. “Your turn.”

  He holds the two blue balls in his hands and tosses the first one. It comes within an inch of hers but not quite close enough.

  “Aww,” she cries. “Just a little short.”

  “I’ve got another turn,” he says to her. She reaches for her beer bottle and he takes it from her, tipping it to his mouth.

  “Hey! That’s mine.”

  “We’re on the same team, right?”

  She smiles up at him and he knows he’s playing with fire. This girl, woman, she’s more than he can handle. He knows it. He cuts the flirting, which feels really, really nice, and focuses on the game so that he can get out of here before he’s in too deep.

  “You’re up,” he says, picking her yellow ball up off the ground and handing it to her. Their fingers graze and a jolt travels up his skin. She blinks and he prays she didn’t get anything off of his echo about his rambling thoughts.

  Astrid throws her final ball and it rolls across the packed surface. It bumps his off the track and eases in barely an inch from the target. She spins and smiles. “Nailed it.”

  “Sure enough, let’s see if you can hold on to your lead.”

  He’s about to launch his next ball when she leans over and whispers, “There are other things you could nail if you weren’t so uptight, Draco.”