by S. J. Delos
“Whatever,” he said, pointing at the overturned truck.
“Think you’re strong enough to get that truck off those cars? The EMTs can’t get the people out with it leaning like that.”
I looked at the scene again. “I can give it a try,” I said. I leapt back into the air and flew over to the wreckage, landing in an opening between the front bumper of a black Lexus and the rear bumper of a Toyota SUV. The weight of the trailer, and the contents inside, had nearly flattened both vehicles. I rapped my knuckles on the bumper of the SUV.
“Hang tight in there,” I said as loud as I could. “I’m going to get you out.”
A little freckled face appeared in the back window. The girl couldn’t have been more than ten. The smile that shone on her cherubic face was missing a tooth.
“It’s Kayo!” she screamed. “Mom! Kayo’s here to save us.”
I gave her a wave. “Just stay down, okay?” I turned to look at the luxury car. The driver, having obviously heard me, lifted his head enough to peer at me over the dash. He was an older male, graying black hair cut into a stern flat-top. His eyes narrowed in my direction.
“Think you can stop taking bows for a minute and get me the hell out of here?” His acidic voice possessed the practiced smoothness of someone who spent their whole life looking down their nose at other people. Just the sound of it made my teeth ache.
“I’m working on it,” I answered, returning his glare.
I glanced up at the overturned trailer. I wasn’t tall enough to push it back onto its wheels, and if I crawled under to try tried to lift it from underneath, the weight could shift, further crushing the vehicles, possibly injuring the passengers. I stepped back to examine the upended container, gnawing on the inside of my cheek as the conundrum stuck its tongue out at me.
There was no doubt in my mind I possessed the strength to simply lift the wreck off the cars. The problem was the fact that, if that strength was applied to too small an area, the whole thing might break in half, doing more damage.
After a couple of seconds—in which Mr. Lexus demanded I get busy saving him again—a solution appeared.
I ducked my head, walking under the trailer, to stop right beneath where the roof met the side. I spread out my arms, rose off the ground as I planted my back against the cold, wet metal. The grand plan of spreading out the pressure I applied across as wide an area as possible seemed to be the only way to keep the trailer intact.
The steel groaned as it moved, scraping against the cars like Freddy Krueger’s claws being dragged across a blackboard the size of Times Square. Once I was a foot or so off the ground, I placed my butt against the side, stretching my arms and legs as far apart as they would go. The dampness soaked right through my clothes as I secured myself tightly against the trailer in a spread eagle pose.
“Hurry up, hero!” Mr. Jerk yelled.
I clenched my jaw, put the asshole out of my mind, and willed myself to go backward. At first, the metal behind me groaned, denting inwards, and threatening to open a hole if I went too fast. An inch-wide gap slowly appeared between the vehicles. Then it was two inches.
“It’s working! Mom, she’s doing it!” The girl’s cheek was pressed against the glass, staring up at me.
I continued upward at an incremental pace, juggling the urge to hurry with the need to be cautious. When I finally managed to get the trailer almost back upright, two firefighters rushed over, one carrying a hydraulic rescue device in his hands. They slowed down at the side of the Lexus, but I pressed my lips together and gave a high-pitched whistle. They both stopped to look up at me.
“That one first,” I said, nodding to the Toyota. “There’s a kid in there.”
The two rescuers glanced at each other for about a half a second before moving to the passenger side of the SUV. The man in the sedan let us all know what he thought about being placed second behind the family.
“Get back here! Do you idiots have any idea who I am?” His face turned to look up at me. “You! I’ll sue you for this, you little bitch. I don’t care who you are.”
I couldn’t take my hands off the side of the trailer to give him the finger, so I settled for sticking my tongue out instead. Sure, it was childish and immature, but it made me feel better. Of course, I didn’t doubt the guy was probably going to sic his lawyer on me, you know, once I was finished saving his ass.
However, I suspected his legal team wasn’t as good as Richard’s. I turned my head from the schmuck to looked at the pair working on the SUV’s door.
“Think you guys could speed this up? I mean, this isn’t nearly as easy as it looks.”
One of them glanced up at me while the other one put a radio to his mouth, stepping away from the wrecked cars.
“There’s something wrong with the pressure regulator,” the one closest to me yelled. “The jaws won’t open far enough to tear into the door.”
I nodded. “Okay. Well, let me put this thing upright, then I’ll take care of getting everyone free.”
He held up his hand, shaking his head. “You can’t. Most of the trailer’s rear axle is gone so it won’t stay up by itself.” He glanced at his partner as the other man held up five fingers, then back to me. “There’s another crew on their way. Hopefully, theirs will work. Can you hold that for another five minutes?”
“Yeah,” I said, flattening my palms against the side of the rig, pressing my back harder into the lifting. “It’s not that it’s heavy, just kind of awkward.”
The fireman grinned. The expression made his already handsome face even more attractive.
“I like that,” he said, glancing from me to the trailer I was lifting. “You’re holding up a couple of tons of steel, but it’s just awkward.” He called over to his partner. “Hey Joe, Kayo says she’s got this. Want to go get a cup of coffee while we wait?”
Joe laughed, shaking his head. “We probably shouldn’t, Steve. It wouldn’t be polite.” Then he walked over and spoke in a lowered voice to the woman in the SUV.
His partner looked back up at me, squinting against the rain. “Yeah, Joe’s right. It wouldn’t be fair for us to run off to leave you holding the truck, so to speak.” The half-grin traveled up to his eyes. “I know. How about when we’re all done here, you and I go get that a coffee instead?”
I nearly dropped the semi, causing the metal pressed against me to whine in protest. I brought my knees up to press my heels against the truck’s side, pushing it back up into a safe angle.
“Are you … asking me out?”
He glanced at the scene around us then back to me, grin widening. “Maybe. I know the timing isn’t great, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Right?”
The rain continued to fall, flattening my hair against my scalp. It ran down my back and sides like cool rivers. I was wet, tired, still a little annoyed, and probably looked like a half-drowned cat. My jeans and t-shirt were soaked thoroughly. Plus, I was nestled in a Karen-sized dent in the side of a tractor-trailer.
Definitely not one of my most attractive moments.
“That’s sweet. Really. Believe me when I say I’m very flattered.” I tried to show just how much with a smile, not a hard task considering just how handsome he was. “But I can’t.”
His grin dampened but didn’t disappear altogether. “Boyfriend, right?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Hey, don’t be. I’m not sorry for asking. So you don’t be sorry for already being with someone.”
Shit. Smoking gorgeous and a gentleman? He was going to make someone a very happy girl.
A starburst flash of light from my left caused both of us to glance over to see a pair of men standing next to the side of the highway. One of them held a camera in his hands, the lens pointed in our direction. The other one was wearing a bright green hooded raincoat and a really unpleasant smile. The guy with the creepy grin clapped the photographer on the shoulder.
“Tell me you got that, Tim,” he said. When the other guy nodded in the affirmative, he raised his
hands. “I can see the headline now. ‘Love and Lust Among the Wreckage’!” He tapped the air in front of him, emphasizing each word.
What fresh hell?
Fireman Steve approached the pair, pointing in the direction of the yellow barrier tape. “Hey, you guys are going to have to leave. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”
“Oh,” said the slimy-looking interloper. “I see. It’s too dangerous for the press to be here reporting the news, but not too dangerous for you to try to score a little hero hanky-panky.”
My mouth dropped open. If not for the fact that there was a semi leaning against me, I probably would have swooped down, grabbed the jerk, and taken him several thousand feet into the air for a little “talk”.
The photographer continued to snap pictures of me as the other man took a step closer. “Come on, Kayo. How can you say no to such a good-looking guy? Not to mention a fellow helper of the needy?”
His smile reminded me of a bad guy I knew whose Enhancement allowed him to instill an addiction in his victims. Drugs, sex, reality television. This guy could turn anything into a vice. He used to take great delight in making good, responsible people into hopeless junkies, willing to do anything to get their next fix.
You don’t know real evil until you’ve heard about some soccer mom mowing down the neighbor’s kids with her minivan because a new episode of “I’m Having Another Baby” was about to come on.
The look on that monster’s face when he watched his handiwork wasn’t all too different than the one being flashed at me now.
“In case you didn’t notice, pal, I’m a little busy here.” I glanced to the right as another team of firemen arrived. They paused just long enough to give the four of us a weird glance before going to work on getting the girl and her mom out of their ruined car.
“That’s okay,” the creep said. “I’m not in any hurry. I can wait for a quote.”
After the passenger side of the SUV was opened like a tuna can, Joe wrapped a blanket around the little girl, picked her up in his arms, and carried her away from the wreckage with her mother following along. Both of the victims gave me a smile, but the girl added a wild arm wave to her appreciation. The Lexus driver was freed next, but it was obvious he wasn’t nearly as grateful as the occupants of the other vehicle.
At least, that’s what I assumed from the obscene gesture he made at me.
I breathed a little easier as I lowered the truck back down onto the already-crushed cars. Once my feet were finally back on solid ground, I raised my arms over my head, arching my back. The trailer hadn’t been anywhere close to my maximum weight lifting limit, but having to use my whole body while flying at the same time managed to put a little knot in the muscles along my spine. The full-body stretch went a long way to relieving the tension.
I lowered my arms to see that all three of the men remaining at the scene were staring at me with different expressions. Tim’s camera was plastered against his face, Mr. Uneasy Smile looked like he just won the lottery, and Steve’s mouth was agape.
I stared at their odd expressions for a moment, then glanced down, wondering they were looking at that might elicit such an effect on the trio. It only took a fraction of a second to realize my rather embarrassing mistake.
When I left headquarters, it was in such a hurry I hadn’t given much attention to what I was wearing. Or the fact I neglected to put anything on under the t-shirt.
The thin, gray—and now completely soaking wet—t-shirt.
My arms flew up to cover my chest as I twisted around, turning my back on the men. My cheeks felt so hot I was surprised the steady drizzling rain wasn’t steaming off them. How could I have been so stupid as to not put on my uniform? Or get properly dressed before leaving?
Even if intending only a quick, head-clearing flight around town, I knew from experience that anything could happen.
I risked a glance back at the guys behind me. The flash on the camera continued to strobe in intermittent bursts. Steve was walking back toward the blinking lights of the rescue vehicles, head slightly down. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed I caught him staring, or if he was hurt about me declining his offer of coffee.
I rose into the air, partially to avoid doing something rash, like shoving Tim’s camera where only a good proctologist would be able to retrieve it.
“Kayo,” the guy in the green raincoat called out. I turned my head to see him wink and point at me. “I’ll be in touch.” His smile made me want to take another shower.
I clenched my jaw, gave the scene below a final once-over, then shot into the sky to get as far away as quickly as I could. As the people below became miniatures, I decided that this day had definitely gone from bad to worse.
What I needed was the company of the one person who could keep it from going from worse to total shit.
I flew back to the city, heading toward a quaint neighborhood populated with brick and granite brownstones. I landed lightly on the porch of one of the virtually identical residences, then knocked on the reinforced door.
There was a key in my room that would open the door, but I no more considered grabbing it than I had a bra.
At the sound of the lock being disengaged, I quickly tried to finger comb my damp hair. The rapid flight had mostly dried my clothes, but now that I was just standing still, the rain was making them damp again.
The door swung open, revealing the handsome, albeit sleepy-looking, form of my boyfriend. Dressed in only a pair of pajama bottoms, he rubbed at one eye as he stared at me.
“Karen?” he asked, stepping back to let me inside. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until this evening.”
My original reason for coming here was just so I could vent to someone who’d listen without judging me. However, looking at him standing half-dressed in the darkened hallway, I suddenly realized what I needed. I wasn’t craving his devoted ear. My frustrations needed a special type of scratching. The kind found in the bedroom.
I closed the door behind me, planted a long, slow kiss on his lips, then grabbed his hand to drag him toward the stairs. Along the way, I glanced back over my shoulder, giving what I hoped was a smoldering stare of pure desire.
“I need you, Kurt. Now.”
The talented detective was all too happy to oblige.
CHAPTER 4:
FIRST WORLD
HERO PROBLEMS
“So,” Kurt said as he traced his fingers lightly across my bare arm from the shoulder down to my wrist. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
I rolled over to face him, pulling the sheet up in a gesture of ridiculous modesty. I mean, it wasn’t as if we hadn’t just spent two hours doing things to each other’s naked bodies. However, his voice rang with a weirdly serious tone, prompting me to cover up.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
He gave me a little smile before raising his hand to point to a large crack in the headboard of his bed, one that hadn’t been there two hours ago.
“Karen, sex with you comes in three flavors.”
I poked him in the arm. “Three flavors?”
“Yes. Tender, Affectionate Sex, which is the most common. Then there’s Super Horny Sex, which I think might actually be a special type of Enhancement.”
I arched a brow, a wry smirk on my face. “Super Horny Sex? Is that the official EAPF designation? What, exactly, are the parameters that qualify a romp in bed as ‘Super Horny’?”
Kurt laughed. “Well, the main criterion is you not being patient enough for me to get out of my clothes. I have a pile of shirts that need new buttons due to those particular encounters.”
I put on a mock pout. “Perhaps you would like to file a grievance with the complaint department?”
“Not on your life. I was merely providing the requested parameters.”
The pout morphed into a smile. “What’s the third type?”
This time, he frowned. “Stressed-Out Sex. Someone, or something, gets you all upset, o
r angry, so you come into my bed to work it out in an extremely energetic matter. At least this time the collateral damage was limited to just the bed frame.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position, glancing away to look at the far wall as my stomach clenched with regret. “I said I was sorry about your ribs. I didn’t mean to push that hard on your chest.”
“Karen,” Kurt said as he sat up as well. “I’m not complaining. Well, maybe I am a little. But I don’t want you to think that I dislike any single time we’ve been intimate. I love spending naked time with you, regardless of the motivating factors behind it.” He leaned against me. “I just want you to tell me what’s bothering you because I know you well enough by now to know when something has gone and crawled right under your skin.”
I sighed, turning back to him. “I’ve been nominated for the Hero of the Year award.”
He responded by studying my face for a few moments, as if to ascertain that I wasn’t joking. Then he started laughing, shaking his head.
I pulled away from him, yanking more of the sheet over me.
“Okay,” I said. “Not the reaction I was expecting. I mean, I didn’t think you’d find the concept ridiculous.” I gave him a hard glare, moving toward the edge of the bed. “Thanks a lot.”
He grabbed my hand and held it tightly, trying to keep me from getting up. It would have been a futile attempt if he hadn’t also stopped laughing to say, “That’s not what I’m laughing about.”
“Oh? Did you suddenly remember a joke you’d heard while I was trying to tell you why I was upset? Which, as I recall, you directly asked.”
He pulled on my hand. I allowed myself to be drawn closer. The look on his face went from jovial to earnestly sincere.
“Karen, I was laughing because you’re agitated about being recognized to receive the most coveted award bestowed on a hero. I mean, keys to cities are a dime a dozen, but being the year’s number one hero? Being mad about that is like being mad that you’re too rich. Or have too much power.” He released my hand, then moved closer, wrapping his arms around me to place a gentle kiss on the spot where my shoulder met my neck. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”