The Supers of Project 12: The Complete Superhero Series

by Angel Lawson

  Mid-arc, the ball slips from his fingers, zooming past the other balls and the target. It slams into the backboard hard and he winces at the sound of wood splitting.

  “Holy shit,” Owen cries. “Did you just break it?”

  “Super powers plus bocce may not be a great idea,” Quinn adds. He walks over to check the board. It’s split in two.

  “Who cares about the backboard,” Astrid says, sticking out her tongue. “I won!”

  Yeah, he wants to say, by whispering dirty thoughts in his ear. Talk about a cheater.

  “I’ll pay the owner,” he says, “but seriously, I’ve gotta run.”

  Quinn picks up the discarded game balls and puts them on the rack. “Why did you take over at WIND-E? Why the commitment to Demetria?”

  “She reached out to me when I needed someone.” There’s no doubt they know what he means. They found one another in a similar way. “She’s not a bad person. Just very, very sick.”

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Astrid says. “He’s physically incapable of doing the wrong thing. Some greater sense of morality makes him stick by Demetria, even if she’s the devil.”

  Owen perks up. “Is that true?”

  He shakes his head and shoots Astrid a glare. “No. I can do the wrong thing, I just choose not to.”

  He says it with conviction but the knot in his belly makes him doubtful. Astrid called him out earlier. There are shades of gray in what he’s dealing with right now. Is he doing the right thing for Demetria by fixing her mistakes? Is he doing more harm to Casper than good? He looks at the woman that walked off to rack the game balls on the small shelf by the door. Her hips sway to the beat of the music filtering through the speakers. She’s the biggest mystery of all to him. The biggest danger.

  How can one small but powerful woman take up so much space in his head?

  He stands. “Thanks for letting me hang out.”

  “No problem, dude,” Owen says. “See you soon.”

  Quinn shakes his hand and Draco gives Astrid a small wave. He leaves out the back gate and he’s nearing his car when he hears her voice.

  “That’s how you’re going to leave?”

  He turns to face Astrid. “Excuse me?”

  “A wave?” She mocks the move. “Later!”

  She’s feisty and something is bugging her. It has been for the last hour—no, make that since the day they met. “Do you have something to say to me?”

  She closes the distance and looks up at him.

  “I know how you feel.”

  He tilts his head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I read your echo that night we went on patrol. I saw what you wanted to do.” She bites her lip. “To me.”

  Her accusation makes him uncomfortable. What had she seen? Because his thoughts tended to run the gamut on her. From endearing to protective to downright feral.

  The look in her eye makes him suspect it’s the latter.

  He swallows and carefully circumvents the truth, knowing his thoughts could have lingered on a dozen activities he’d like to share with her. Most naked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What you want to do falls in the gray space, Draco, just like I do. Just like the guys. It’s the place that binds us together, that gives us unimaginable strength.” She smiles and it’s breathtaking and terrifying at the same time. It cuts through his soul, through the protective shield he’s placed around himself—she disarms him and that is unacceptable.

  “Look, I don’t want to sound rude, but whatever you three have going on is between you. I don’t see how it affects our working together as a team to keep the city safe.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, but when you’re ready, let me know.”

  “Ready for what?” She’s way too in his personal space.

  “Me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Astrid

  Draco may have had to meet with insurance adjusters, but Astrid had her own consequences to deal with. Jensen texted her at seven a.m., asking her to come to his office.

  “Tell him you can’t,” Quinn says over breakfast. “You do have recruits downstairs.”

  “You and Mick can handle it. He knows that. I have to go take my punishment for what happened with Rowe.”

  His mouth sets in a grim line. “Don’t get arrested, okay?”

  “I won’t.” He doesn’t look convinced so she kisses him quick on the lips. “Promise.”

  She takes the Jeep to the agency office and moves through security. When Jensen appears, she expects him to take her up to his office. Instead, he presses the down button on the elevator.

  “Are you taking me to a cell?” Quinn may have been right about that getting arrested thing. “Because Rowe was a dick and I won’t feel bad about defending myself.”

  “If I was arresting you, that would have already happened.”

  Oh.

  “Is Mayor Steed serious about this charity game? I thought we’d had enough of this sort of thing lately. The last two caused more damage than good.”

  “His name wasn’t on any of those events. He wants to take credit for rebuilding the city. We can’t stop him.”

  “Yeah, well if Rowe keeps taunting me, it’s going to get ugly.”

  The elevator doors slide open and it leads to an indoor firing range. She feels the shots vibrating in her chest as well as the gunfire rattling in her ears. She covers her ears and Jensen hands her a pair of headphones.

  Then, silently, he hands her a gun and a clip of bullets and gestures for Astrid to follow. The weapon feels weird in her hand. Lighter than expected. She doesn’t use weapons like this. She is a weapon. Honed and developed for assault. Sure, she carries tools and a few things that get her out of a scrape, but guns? That’s not her style.

  “Stall four,” he says and she enters the box. A fresh sheet of black paper with the outline of a white body hangs on the wall in the distance.

  He nods at the target. “Go for it.”

  Astrid has shot a gun before. There is a lot to the training of the recruits, and although the gym focuses on the physical side of things, she’s aware once they graduate they become even more lethal killers. Jensen had shown her and Atticus the process. But now, with the weight of the gun in her hand, and the target hanging in the distance, she feels like she’s part of some kind of test. Closing one eye she unloads the clip, feeling the recoil and vibration through her entire body. It hurts.

  Jensen presses the button that brings the target back to them. On the good side, she hit the paper with every shot. On the bad she didn’t hit center mass with any of them.

  “What’s the point here,” she says, not liking his silence or whatever it is he’s doing.

  He lifts up another target—used—with seven bullets clumped together in the middle of the body, most near the heart. “This is Rowe’s target. He’s trained. And lethal and has a license to carry a gun. He may be a dick and you may have been his instructor, but you can’t mouth off to him.”

  “Why? Because he’ll kill me?”

  He sighs and rubs his chin. Too many new wrinkles have appeared on his face over the last few months. Obviously, she’s a contributing factor. “Rowe’s not going to kill you, Astrid, but he may take a shot at your alter ego. Or someone else in the community who thinks it’s okay to talk back to task force agents.”

  “Wait, so you’re saying if they shoot someone, it’s my fault?”

  “You berated and made a fool of him in front of a gym full of people. I can’t have you undermining our efforts. The mayor won’t like it, either.”

  “So I just let him say disgusting things to me? Come in my gym and humiliate me?”

  He shakes his head. “No, and none of those things are right either. I’m talking to him too. Just be careful, okay? He doesn’t know that it’s Astrid under that suit out there. We don’t need anyone on the edge more than they already are.”

  Astrid exhales, annoyed with the entire sit
uation. She doesn’t like Rowe and she isn’t a fan of this task force, but she knows both are out of her control. She grabs a fresh target and hangs it on the board, pressing the button to put it into place at the end of the range. While Jensen watches, she reloads the gun and adjusts her ear protectors. Then she trains the weapon on the target and fires.

  If the government is sending armed men after her, then maybe she needs to add something new to her arsenal.

  *

  With the scent of gunpowder on her gloves, Astrid leaves the Agency’s office and heads to Draco’s. Casper sent her a message while she was at the range. If he’s reaching out to her, she’s not going to waste an opportunity.

  The staff allows her on the property—Draco has given her access—and she goes straight to his cottage. Using her key, she unlocks the door and walks past the mountains of books to the office.

  She flips on the computer and finds him at his desk, making intense faces at the screen. “Die, you fucking scum,” he mutters, and she rolls her eyes, assuming it’s a video game. What the hell is going on with these guys and their games?

  When he doesn’t notice her presence, she takes a minute to watch him.

  She’s seen his avatar for so long that it still surprises her that he’s a real person. If she met him on the street she’d think he was cute maybe. A little nerdy for her taste—jocks have always been her thing. Although Owen dashes that theory a little. Under her guidance, he’s turned into an athlete and it makes her curious if Casper has these enhanced skills as well. She’d love to put him through her training program to see how he’d do.

  He’s not out of shape. Draco said he had a workout room attached to the bunker and she notices lithe arms under his baggy t-shirt. His face is thin but not gaunt. She finds his cheekbones fascinating; high and sharp. His eyes are dark, like his hair, and his features are classically Japanese.

  Astrid bumps into the desk on the way to the chair and one of the books in a tall stack slips. She tries to catch it and doesn’t. It clatters loudly to the floor.

  “What the…” he says, shifting his eyes off the game. They narrow when they see her.

  “Hey Cas,” she says with a little wave.

  “I’m out, guys. Work calls.” He fusses with his console and turns his attention to her. His voice comes out tinny and altered. He’s not ready to reveal his stutter to her. “So I’m the stalker, eh?”

  “I wasn’t stalking you.”

  “Uh, huh. Good thing I wasn’t doing anything weird.”

  “Is that something I should be concerned about?” She’s seriously asking. Living with two men has been, uh, eye opening to say the least.

  “It’s always good to knock,” he says with a wink. At least he’s in a good mood. Way better than the last time she’d been here. Maybe he’s changed his mind about meeting face to face. “So look, I got some intel about some terrorist activities focused on Crescent City.”

  She frowns. “What kind of terrorists?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. I’m going to keep my eyes and ears open for anything suspicious. It could just be chatter because the stuff with Demetria put the city on people’s radars. You know how crazy bastards like to copy-cat. They may just want to see if your team will show up or if the task force is really up to the job. Who knows with these lunatics? But if there’s truth to it, we need to stay on top of it.”

  “Good idea. Do you think Jensen knows? Because if he does, he didn’t tell me.”

  “Depends on how good his data collection is.” He smiles at her. “I doubt it’s as good as I am.”

  She leans back in her seat and watches him again for a minute. She likes this calmer, happier Casper. “So why did you call me up here?”

  “Security. This is a direct feed to Draco’s office. Anything offsite could possibly be compromised. If these threats are real, I don’t want them to know we know.”

  “Makes sense.” She waits a beat. “I thought maybe you’d reconsidered meeting. You know, face-to-face.”

  The reaction from Casper is instantaneous. Tense jaw, neck, and shoulders. She wants to take it back but she doesn’t because they have to get past this. “I just need a little bit, dude. Can you give me that?”

  He inhales and then exhales slowly. Astrid is too far away to read his echo, but even with the separation she senses his anxiety. If she could, she’d give him a hat with ears and let him wear it. “Fine. Meet me at the door.”

  “How do I get there?”

  “Go out the back door of the cottage. Follow the path.”

  She breaks into a wide smile. “Thank you.”

  He grunts in reply.

  Not giving him a chance to back out, she’s out of the house and down the back steps in a heartbeat. The path is easily marked, pavers leading away from the house and into the wooded area of the hills. The stone bunker is covered in crawling ivy. She wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t looking, but there in the middle is the outline of a door.

  She sends him a text.

  I’m here.

  I know

  Will you open the door?

  This seems like a bad idea

  Nah. It’s a good one.

  He doesn’t reply but she hears movement behind the door, then the scrape of metal and whine of hinges as it swings open. Astrid stands on a square paver with her hands shoved in her hoodie and waits.

  Then she sees his face.

  Eyes squint against the bright daylight. She smiles at his heartbeat, hammering so hard in his chest that it sounds like it may tear through. She catches his scent; soapy shampoo and detergent. Emotion wells in her because he’s like her, one of them, and it’s like finding a lost piece of her soul.

  His dark brown eyes widen when he sees her and his fear slams into her even from this distance. He takes her in from head to toe. She opens her mouth to say something and a deep, odd sound comes from his throat.

  “Hey,” she says, trying to play it cool. But Casper isn’t cool. He’s a hot mess and without another word or sound, he slams the door. She runs forward and slams her hands against the metal. “Casper!”

  There’s no reaction but through her palms she feels the tiniest vibration of echoing through the metal. He must be leaning against it. Astrid presses her hands flat and takes what she can get…a little piece of his heart.

  *

  After a while she feels nothing but silence though the door. She turns and walks back down the path until she reaches the small garden she’d raced through earlier. The house has a nice-sized back porch but the garden is nicer, including a small stone patio and fire pit in the center. Comfortable chairs surround the pit, but taking a look inside, she gets the feeling it’s never been used. Who would Draco bring out here? Does he have other friends?

  Astrid enters through the back door that leads to a hallway. To her left is a nice sitting area. Her right, the door leading to a bedroom. Dark wood furniture catches her eye, along with deep gray bedding. She inhales and draws in the scent of sugar and vanilla. Draco’s room? Curiosity gets the best of her.

  The floors are hardwood like the rest of the house but a soft white rug fills the space under the bed. A tower of books is stacked on the bedside table, letting her know which side he favors. The left—or closet to the door.

  Forever the protector. There’s a second fireplace in the room along with another comfortable leather chair. A tall wardrobe backs against the wall along with another shelf of books. Maybe Casper isn’t the biggest or only nerd in the group. She walks over to the bed and runs her hand over the soft linen pillow and picks up the book on the top.

  “What are you doing?”

  She spins, holding the book in front of her, but she nearly drops it at the sight of him.

  Holy shit.

  Holy shit.

  Nearly naked Draco wrapped only in a towel, slung low across his hips. His hair is wet. Water drips down his shoulders, chest, and stomach. She swallows, trying to make herself look away from the trail of hai
r leading downward, but is failing miserably.

  “Astrid?”

  “Right.” She shakes herself out of it. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he replies, with a tense nod. His fingers hold onto the towel with an iron grip. It does nothing but accentuate the taut muscles in his arm. “What are you doing in here?”

  A drop of water clings to his nipple. She clenches the book like a protective shield, because no woman is immune to this kind of body. “I uh…I was out back. With Casper.”

  His expression softens. “You talked to him? He let you in the bunker?”

  “No, not really.” She tries to regain her senses and turns to place the book back on the stack. “He agreed to a face-to-face. And to be fair, that happened. Right before he panicked and slammed the door in my face.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Progress, right?” It’s a stretch but also true. “He didn’t cuss me out once.”

  His eyebrow raises. “That is progress.”

  “Yeah, well, I apologize for invading your personal space. I didn’t know you were home.”

  “So right, why are you in here?”

  “Snooping, duh.” There’s no reason to lie. Draco doesn’t do lies well anyway. Which is why no matter how much he fights it, the attraction he has to her rolls off him in waves. She eyes him again, growing more comfortable with being in the presence of his body. “I thought you had a meeting.”

  “Signing the insurance papers didn’t take long.” He wrinkles his nose. “Then I had to come home and wash the lawyer stink off.”

  She laughs. “So maybe us meeting up like this is…fate.”

  His gray eyes darken and hold hers. “I don’t believe in fate, Astrid.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you believe in, Mr. Perfect?”

  He swallows. “I believe you’re trouble, Ms. Petta. The kind of trouble I can’t have in my life. Not right now.”

  She’s moved a little closer to him. Or, despite his protests, he’s moved closer to her. Like magnets.

  “Trouble?”

  He groans and runs his hand through his damp hair. “You’re beautiful, sexy and strong. You intimidate the hell out of me but I like this team thing we’ve got going on. I like working with you—with Quinn and Owen. Your mentors had a good vision and after everything with Demetria, I want to help.” She feels the immense heat from his gaze. “I won’t mess that up because I find you attractive.”