by C. C. Ekeke
Mister Quiet had gone dark. No other bombings or kidnappings. But Hugo was more determined to find the bastard and whomever he’d kidnapped.
His cover story of staying home to rest had brought several friends and some teachers over. Even Briseis’s parents had stopped by, barely able to occupy the same room without arguing. Hugo saw the resemblance. Brie’s Egyptian father, not striking or fit, had beautiful green eyes. Brie’s Greek mom was clearly where she’d gotten her beauty.
“Briseis is on bedrest or else she’d be here too,” Mrs. El-Saden stated.
Hugo hadn’t seen or spoken to Brie since the hospital and preferred it that way. His head was still a mess over their library confrontation…and what she knew. Since the police hadn’t come to arrest him yet, Brie hadn’t told anyone about Fall Fling. But that could change.
“Now,” Ms. Ortiz straightened, looking ready to quiz him. “When you find his lair, you’ll do what?”
“Case the scene for booby traps, hiding spots,” Hugo replied lazily. “And hostages.”
“Then?”
“Take him out with minimal or no monologuing,” Hugo recited, not taking this lightly.
Ms. Ortiz’s smile split her face as she clapped like a peppy cheerleader.
“What are they talking about?” Uncle Sione’s nosiness vibrated from the kitchen. “Does Betty run his mysterious internship?”
“Betty’s helping him through the school bombing,” Mom answered patiently. “Leave them be.”
“Is Betty single?”
“Single mother,” Mom answered. “She’d not interested, Sione.”
“You don’t know that,” Sione scoffed
“Yes, we do,” Zelda declared territorially, entering the kitchen. She disliked Sione too. Smart girl.
“Damn.” Sione sounded chastened. “That girl has a mouth.”
“One of Zelda’s charms,” Mom muttered, a smile in her voice.
Hugo grinned. Like Sione had a chance with Ms. Ortiz. All kidding aside, his uncle had become problematic. Not just his invasive curiosity. Hugo would handle him after dinner. He focused on Ms. Ortiz’s next words.
“The new suit will be ready tomorrow,” she promised. “Picked your new alias?”
“Yes!” Best news Hugo had heard in days. But he didn’t want to get too excited until seeing the final costume. “My alias is—” He hushed as Mom pushed open the kitchen door.
“What are you two cooking up?” she asked softly, approaching her son and her neighbor.
Hugo glanced at Ms. Ortiz. “Talking about Mister Quiet.”
“And how young Hugo will handle him,” Ms. Ortiz added, grinning.
Mom’s eyes bulged. “Ah.” She’d known about Hugo training with Lady Liberty since day one. Ms. Ortiz had revealed her true identity to Mom on day two, which still weirded Hugo out. The reveal had strengthened Mom’s friendship with Ms. Ortiz.
“Do you feel you’re ready?” Mom asked, watching her friend expectantly.
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Hugo replied.
Despite the assurance, worry fluttered across Mom's face. She was about to say more until Ms. Ortiz gave a nod, indicating that Sione was exiting the kitchen with Zelda.
Mom understood. “We’ll eat after AJ comes home from Dallas’s house.”
Hugo rose from the couch and heard a car pull up outside. Familiar voices were inside. “AJ’s back.”
Uncle Sione gave him a wary onceover. “What are you, a bloodhound?”
Hugo grunted. “You’re just deaf.” He headed for the door, steeling himself before opening. AJ high-fived his brother, then bounced inside to greet Mom and Ms. Ortiz, fist-bump Zelda, and hug Sione.
Hugo barely noticed. Abby Dunleavy stood at his door, outlined against the pink sunset in a tank top and tight jeans, pixie-cut blonde hair teased back with a headband. She looked hot as hell, smelling like sin.
Hugo gulped, loins stirring. “Hey, Abby," he said with a nonchalant expression.
That drew everyone’s attention. Especially Sione, who eyed her creepily.
“Hi, sweetie,” Mom greeted.
Abby waved. “I wanted to check in. I got to the hospital and you'd checked out.”
Her concern was a pleasant surprise. Hugo played it cool with so many spectators. “Got a clean bill of health, so I didn’t hang around.”
“Good.” Abby hesitated before turning to leave. “Alright. Bye.”
Hugo ignored Sione's WTF look. Annoyingly, Mom interjected, “Are you hungry, Abby?” She gestured at the dining table. “We have an extra seat and extra food.”
Hugo glowered at her. Mom gave an encouraging gaze. Real subtle.
AJ, always unhelpful, chortled. Zelda grinned.
“The plot coagulates,” Ms. Ortiz cooed, drumming her fingers together.
WHY? Hugo briefly squeezed his eyes shut from the public humiliation.
Abby waved off the offer. “I don’t want to intrude.” Her hopeful gaze said otherwise.
This was a bad idea, but they had extra food. “Uh…come in.” Hugo nodded at the table. “Have dinner.”
Abby brightened like a Christmas tree. “Okay!” She glided through the door. Dinner was excellent, as usual. Conversation was boisterous with four Samoans at one table. Ms. Ortiz and Zelda were used to this. Abby joined in fearlessly, busting Sione’s balls on his absurd stories, flirting with Hugo, talking about when her family lived in Texas. Hugo so didn’t regret inviting Abby to dinner.
After Ms. Ortiz and Zelda left, Abby stayed to help with dishwashing. Mom went upstairs to rest. Hugo heard AJ and Sione’s lively banter in the common room. They’d grown close. He almost regretted what must happen with Sione.
Hugo approached Abby with the last cup for the dishwasher. “One more.”
She reached for it. “Thanks…OH!” Abby yelped as the glass slipped…
…as Hugo had dropped it before she’d grabbed hold, then caught in his other hand. He winked.
Abby relaxed and came down from her tiptoes. “Ass,” she giggled, snatching the cup.
“How ya holding up?” Hugo asked, closing the dishwasher.
Abby leaned against a countertop. “I wanted to ask you, after the explosion.” She searched his face.
“I’m fine,” Hugo said, stony in expression. Abby intrigued him, but not enough to be an open book. He sat on the countertop beside her. “Kinda rattled about the students who died.”
“Honestly?” Abby’s eyes fell. “I’m freaked out. The bombing, what happened to you, and even Briseis, whom I hate, the missing students.” She hugged herself. “What if they don’t find them—”
Hugo rested a hand between her shoulder blades, easing Abby’s shivers. Her skin felt deliciously soft beneath his fingers. “Someone will stop this guy,” Hugo assured. “I promise.” Himself, hopefully.
Abby met his unwavering gaze. Within seconds, hope sparked in her deep-blue eyes. She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Sorry for killing the mood. Happy thoughts, Abby.”
Hugo realized his hand lingered on her back and awkwardly withdrew it.
Abby cleared her throat, resting her elbows on the countertop. “Where’d your mom get that insane cinnamon-frosted pastry?”
Hugo leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “You like donuts?”
Abby snorted at the question. “Who doesn’t like donuts?”
Hugo considered this. “Vegans, who I think are supervillains hellbent on eradicating tasty food.”
Abby’s laugh caressed Hugo’s earlobes like a lover’s kiss. “Right?”
“Pastry shop in Pismo called D-Lish,” he said with a broad smile. “It’s got all the donuts.”
After several more minutes of flirty bantering, Abby took her leave. Hugo was surprised by his pang of disappointment while walking Abby to her car. “Go straight home,” he instructed, wagging his finger. “And lock your doors.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Okay, Dad.” She softened. “Thanks for worrying.”
H
ugo shrugged. “Sure.” They were just getting to know each other, but Abby’s company was easy to enjoy.
She measured him with a smirk full of dirty intentions, contradicting her near-seventeen years. Everything about Abby contradicted her age. This one’s trouble. “It’s time we set up our playdate,” she decided.
Hugo was lost. “Playdate?”
“Mmmhmmm. AJ and Dallas can play together.” Abby’s voice got all smoky as she grazed a finger down Hugo’s torso. “And you can play with me.”
What the WHAT? Abby’s seductive proposal struck Hugo with cannonball-like impact. It took considerable effort not to start drooling. “Sure,” Hugo replied, an octave higher.
Abby’s eyes flashed in triumph. “Love it. I’ll call ya with the time, the day, the blah blah blah.” She patted his cheek, spun around, and got into her car. “Ciao!”
“Whaaaat?” Hugo uttered as she drove off. He was already regretting this playdate in the best way.
“Damn, Bogota!”
And Hugo’s mood curdled. Uncle Sione waited at the front door, smiling. “That girl wants to ride you like it’s her job. Get there!”
Hugo advanced on his uncle, hands in his pockets. He’d been anticipating and dreading this conversation. But it had to happen. “Can we talk?”
Sione tensed at Hugo’s somber tone. “Sure.” He closed the door behind him.
“Here’s the thing,” Hugo began, inhaling a deep breath to steady himself. “You staying here isn’t working.” Hugo couldn’t take back his next words. But to protect Mom and AJ, he didn’t care. “You gonna pay Mom back the money you borrowed and leave San Miguel. Tonight.”
Sione blinked and chuckled, thinking his nephew was joking. When Hugo didn’t smile, his mirth faded. “Excuse you?”
He got in Sione’s face, anger contained, voice ice-cold, feet welded to the earth. “I know about your surf shop,” he admitted. “A money laundering hub for the East Bay Island Boys gang.”
Sione paled. “What…How the…?” He gaped at Hugo like he’d never seen him before. “That’s not true."
Hugo shook his head, disgusted. “Don’t lie. It’s rude. You’re using Mom’s money to start your dirty business and want AJ involved? Fuck no.” Hugo waited for Sione’s next move.
Sione finally recovered, sizing his nephew up with a look Hugo had never seen before. Like an enemy. “Oh, you’re a big man now?” He spread his arms in challenge. Sione was feeling cocky. “You can’t prove shit. I ain't leaving.”
“Wrong answer.” Hugo assumed his uncle would respond this way and deployed his counterstrike. “If you stay, certain authorities that caused you to leave San Francisco weeks ago will know where to find you.” And from what Hugo had learned, these weren’t the kind of law enforcement someone wanted on their tail. “Then there are the baby mommas you owe child support.”
“WAIT!” Sione stepped back, terrified, almost tripping over the front porch stairs. “I can’t leave tonight,” he protested. “I have to pack—”
Hugo waved off the concern. “Already handled.” He’d speed-packed Sione’s bags before Ms. Ortiz had arrived. “Now,” Hugo added, trying not to smile, “the money you owe Mom. With the $15,000 you just borrowed and all the other money she’s given you since you arrived, the number is $18,968.05?” He shrugged at Sione’s disbelief. “I’m good with math.”
Sione was seething but ultimately toothless. “You think your mother's perfect?” He curled his fists, like those could hurt Hugo. “Savelina isn’t the saint she claims to be, Bogota.”
Hugo’s hand twitched, eager to teach his uncle some manners. But this was his last gasp of defiance, so Hugo just snorted in amusement. “Mom put up with you this long.” He grabbed Sione and spun him around to face the front door. “Now go inside and say goodbye.”
Hollowed out, Sione did as ordered. He addressed Mom and AJ right before repaying Mom’s money.
AJ was devastated. “No, Uncle!”
Sione tensed and held AJ in his arms. “Sorry, Junior. Something came up.” He threw a salty look at Hugo, who didn’t even pretend to care.
Mom noticed the exchange. “Sione.” She shook her head, handing back his check. “My home is yours as long as you need. And this money—”
“—is yours.” Sione closed his sister’s hand. “I won’t need it anymore.” Goodbyes were exchanged. Sione simply shook Hugo’s hand, stone-faced, gathered his bags, and left once the Uber arrived.
AJ raced upstairs without a word. It grated on Hugo’s soul hearing sobs from inside his brother’s bedroom. He’d let him cool off before ap-proaching.
Mom sat on the bottom of the stairs, openly angry. “What did you do?”
“I forced Sione out.” Hugo saw no point hiding it.
Mom sprang up. For an instant, Hugo thought she might slap him. “Why?”
“Sione was gonna launder money,” he replied. “Funded with your donation and have AJ work for him.”
That doused ice water on Mom’s fury. “How would you know that?”
“A good source,” Hugo said with a heavy heart. Not for Sione’s departure, but the effect on his family. “Uncle Sione hasn’t changed. He’s still a burning building. Grab your shit and run like hell.”
Mom swayed a bit before slumping back on the steps. “I’m sorry.” She lifted her head, looking wiped. “I shouldn’t have put you in this position, Bogota.”
Hugo wasn’t upset with her. “He’s your brother. Of course you’ll want to see the best in him.” He crouched to meet Mom’s sad eyes. “With everything you do for AJ and me, protecting you is the least I can do.” He kissed Mom’s forehead. “Love you.”
His mother’s eyes glistened from unshed tears. “Love you, Bogota.” She drew him into her arms.
A few hours later, Hugo was in one of Geist’s safehouses. He stood behind the vigilante’s hacker, Clint, with his seven huge computer screens and a motherload of footage. “Holy crap!” Hugo exclaimed.
“I know.” Clint leaned back in his seat with a self-satisfied smirk. “It’s crazy the spaces he fit into.” For two days, Clinton had run search algorithms to find any footage featuring the liger as Hugo had meticulously described. They now watched videos of the liger slipping in and out of underground locations near where kidnapped students had last been seen. The hacker handed Hugo a silvery flash drive with all the video.
Hugo excitedly pocketed the drive. “This narrows down where I need to look. Thank you.”
“Always.” Clint fist-bumped with Hugo, wincing from extra-durable knuckles.
“Let Geist’s cop contacts see that too,” Hugo added, drawing Clint’s surprise. The cops needed to assist here. Though Hugo really wanted to find Mister Quiet first. He turned to go but remembered one more thing. “Thanks for the dirt on my uncle,” he intoned darkly.
Clinton nodded, hands behind his head. “Having skeevy relatives sucks. And your uncle’s a bad dude! No offense.”
Hugo made a face. “None taken.” Driving Sione away held little triumph. As he headed down a corridor for the safehouse exit, Hugo ran into Longshadow. She’d pulled back her mask and hood after returning from a patrol, twirling her bow expertly.
“Hey, Bogie,” she greeted brightly and ran fingers through her wavy, tousled bob.
“Hey, Reese.” Hugo and Longshadow high-fived. “Where’s your guy?”
The lithe archer rolled her eyes. “Geist’s following some lead he’s not sharing. As usual.” She pushed her frustration down quickly. “Get what you needed from Clinton?”
Hugo nodded. “Yup.”
She looked pleased. “Happy hunting, mon ami.” She kept walking.
“Same to you, mon chere,” Hugo replied, knowing Longshadow was right. This was a hunt. But now Quiet Man and his minion were the prey.
Chapter 29
“Indefinitely?” Quinn scratched the back of her neck. She was currently at her Aunt Cecilia and Uncle Alonzo’s house for dinner, seated with her cousins Jordana, Rory, and
Roland.
After the Paso High bombing, Quinn had spent two nights there while interviewing Missy Magnificent during the day. “The school district doesn’t know how long Paso High will be shut down?”
Jordana shrugged. “Until campus gets cleaned up and the bomber’s caught.” She wore a blue-and-white Paso High varsity hoodie, hair piled atop her head.
After seeing images of the devastated school, Quinn understood why Paso High wasn’t rushing to reopen. It was a miracle only two kids had died. Thanks to Hugo... Quinn realized. The Samoan teen had said the suicide bomber was a student forced into this by a repulsive monster.
Quinn shuddered. “Has schoolwork been cancelled?”
“I wish,” Jordana grumbled, scowling at her brothers’ teasing. “Our teachers still email our homework. It’s like online school.”
“Our school shut down too.” Rory smiled, scratching his contoured afro.
Roland cheered until his mother flashed a withering look at both boys. “Don’t celebrate that!” Aunt Cecilia’s fiery rebuke brought out her Dominican-Bronx accent. “Two innocent souls never get to learn again!”
The eleven-year-old twins stared at the table, chastened. The mood grew so awkwardly muted, even Quinn felt like she’d been lectured. The reporter exchanged a quick sympathy smile with Jordana. Aunt Cecilia, caramel-complexioned with dreamy eyes, was a fierce education advocate. Born to Dominican immigrants who’d sacrificed for her to attend college and law school, she drilled that discipline into her children. One of many things Quinn loved about her auntie, besides her delicious sancocho stew.
Cecilia turned to her husband, a hearty man with grey in his beard and slight pudge around his midsection. “San Miguel’s getting so dangerous,” she griped. “First superhumans treating the city like a WWE ring. Now schools aren’t safe? We were safer in New York.”
Quinn panicked...loudly. Jordana, Rory, and Roland also shouted their displeasure. The City of Wonder had been their home for five years.
