Got To Be A Hero (The Accidental Hero Series Book 1)

by Paul Duffau

  Dude, you’re a dumbass. Do not piss off the girl. It’s not a hard rule, amigo.

  Pictures of Kenzie stomping off because he gave her the third degree shuffled through his head. In about half of them, she slapped him first.

  “You don’t have to—” he began, but Kenzie shook her head. He watched the cute bounce of her ponytail and zipped his mouth.

  “It’s okay. My mother invited a jerk to dinner—the engineer who is building the invention I told you about. It’s an amplifier for magic. They were trying to kidnap me to get to my mother. Whoever wants the stupid thing must know about Aric’s—he’s the lead engineer, I think—his work in the lab, though I don’t know what good it would do them if they can’t do magic in the first place.”

  Suspicion nibbled around the edges of Mitch’s mind. He thought about telling Kenzie about his meeting with Mercury and decided against it. Mercury’s instructions or requests or whatever the hell they were didn’t square with the older wizard being involved in the attempt. Just the opposite—he’d asked Mitch to protect Kenzie.

  “Maybe they can do magic?” He was thinking aloud. “What if they found out about it and wanted it? It would make a great weapon, wouldn’t it?”

  He fumbled with ideas, seeing which would match up.

  “Are there, like, organizations for wizards? Ones that would fight for something like this amplifier?”

  Kenzie tucked her legs back underneath her and made a quarter turn to face him.

  “We call them Families. Supposedly there are more than just mine, but I’ve never met anyone from another Family. Mostly, I thought my Family was pretty much the only one, and that my parents used stories of other Families, the Spanish Family, to scare us. I don’t think it would surprise my father if there were others, though. He’s in charge of keeping us all safe, so he’d already know if they were around and messing with us.”

  A warning sounded when Kenzie mentioned the Spanish Family. Mitch drew a deep breath, making the connection to Hunter Rubiera. Kenzie stood up while he dithered over how much to tell her.

  “Come on, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  Kenzie rolled her shoulders as she walked away from the picnic table. The moon that resembled the orb in the Glade had settled back to a normal bright fullness, but Mount Rainier still glimmered across the rippled water to her.

  She didn’t want to talk about the Family or the amplifier or anything else. More than anything, she wanted to disappear into a crowd so she could be herself, have a boyfriend who . . .

  Her thoughts ran up against a hard upswell of emotion. When she thought of Mitch-boyfriend that new tingle-tension set her on a delicious edge.

  More than anything she had a reckless urge to run away to Mitch.

  Mitch saw her wrestling with her thoughts as she crossed the woodchips. She was headed for the swing. A pang of sympathy for her predicament softened his features. He followed, giving her a little space. As Mitch got closer, he saw that it wasn’t a regular swing. Rather than being attached to poles, the seat hung by chains leading to a roller on a zip line. The cable bolts were attached to tube steel framing that resembled elongated upside-down Us.

  Kenzie settled onto the swing. The action made the whole thing spin slowly.

  “Push me?” Kenzie asked. “Please?”

  Mitch hesitated, trying to figure out where to push from. With little kids, he knew to push down by the butt.

  Kenzie was definitely not a little kid.

  He thought about pushing higher on her back, but a fast vector analysis in his head gave him a fifty-fifty shot of knocking her off the swing. He compromised by placing his hands at her waist the next time the spin put her in the right position.

  Through the thin cotton of Kenzie’s blouse, the heat from her skin warmed his palms, and the scent of her hair twisted him up inside. He pulled her in a couple of inches before giving her a gentle shove. The pulley at the zip line hissed as she bounced away. Kenzie laughed and lifted one leg, putting herself into a fast spin. As she came around, she switched legs to slow herself. She ended up with her back to him.

  Bobbing on the wire, she leaned back and looked at him upside down. She balanced there, with her feet up, Mount Rainier lined up between them. She kept her focus on him. Mitch’s gaze traversed from the petite-looking shoes to the snap on her jeans. Kenzie’s blouse parted at the ruffles on the bottom and pulled up, leaving her tummy exposed. Tight lines of her taut ab muscles kept her from overbalancing on the swing, and she had an innie belly button. His eyes stopped moving when they reached her breasts. The twisted feeling at his gut straightened itself out.

  He was glad it was dark.

  Kenzie looked at him from an upside-down position as the blood rushed to her head and her cheeks warmed. He stood there gaping at her. He looked silly with his mouth open like that, she thought.

  A zephyr of wind lifted the bottom ruffle of her blouse and billowed out the top. The slight wind threatened to unbalance her, so she dropped her feet a couple of inches to maintain equilibrium.

  “You ever think of running away?”

  “Not really,” Mitch said. His voice sounded weird, husky.

  The magic is right there, she thought, I can feel it, so easy to hold. . . .

  “Why not?” Her question flowed out on her breath, a murmur, not a hard interrogative.

  “You can only run so far, and then the bullies find you anyway, and you still have to fight. Might as well start it first.”

  Kenzie nibbled at her lower lip, and her eyes drifted sideways. Breathing stretched out like this seemed hard. The heat of her face expanded to her torso and moved lower. She gave Mitch an intent stare.

  “Did you have to fight?”

  Mitch’s face went hard and his unblinking gaze touched hers with bleakness.

  “I . . .” Mitch set his jaw. “Never mind.”

  Kenzie’s brows gathered in as she read the answer to her question in the scars that she had picked at. She met his look.

  He’s too far away.

  She wanted him closer, near her. Holding her, while she put her head against his chest . . .

  As if reading her mind, he took a step toward her.

  Kenzie sat up, looking over her shoulder at him. With her hair falling to the side and the stone at her throat and the big, big eyes, she looked like a fairy-tale princess. The seat rotated, and Kenzie spun until she faced him. Mitch extended a hand and grasped the cable. The coldness of the wire strands gave him an anchor to cling to.

  A hard crack, a broken branch, made it through the rushing roar of blood in his ears, but he disregarded it. Even the persistent sounds of the lake got submerged.

  Kenzie tilted her head up to him. Her lips were parted, and he saw her chest rise and fall. She shimmered with an internal glow that melted any restraint he had.

  He bent forward, lowering his mouth toward hers. Vaguely he recalled all the warnings from school. He disregarded them.

  His lips touched hers, lightly, felt hesitation—her hesitation, his hesitation. He let his lips linger and then drew away, trembling, vibrating with pent-up energy, more than he thought he could stand. He waited for some reaction, dreading what it might be, unable to move or speak. Just vibrating, while the voice in his head laughed and said, I told you they were kissable.

  His hand shook on the cable, so he squeezed his fist tight until the knuckles were ready to burst from the skin.

  He watched Kenzie’s face, desperate for a sign, and his heart fell out when she dropped her chin.

  “Why did you do that?” Kenzie whispered.

  “You looked like you wanted to be kissed.”

  She lifted her face. He caught the stars in her gaze.

  “Do it again?”

  Mitch leaned toward her, and Kenzie reached up. As his face approached hers, she closed her eyes and parted her lips.

  Another crack came from the trees and, as Mitch was about to kiss Kenzie again, a flash of red crossed her face. />
  Mitch went onto high alert, as tense as an impala scenting a pride of lions. He froze, inches from Kenzie. The dot flashed again and disappeared.

  Mitch slowly stood up, swinging Kenzie around behind him.

  His hand shook on the cable again, but not from excitement. No self-respecting gamer could fail to recognize a laser sight when he saw one.

  “Hey,” Kenzie said, sounding hurt.

  Mitch looked into the trees, mind racing with calculations and angles. Laser light traveled in straight lines. If it had been on Kenzie’s face, it had to come from about there, he thought.

  He faced the darkness, keeping himself from looking down to see the dot on his chest.

  “Who’s there?” he shouted into the dark, defiance loud in his words while dread slithered into his heart.

  Chapter 29

  Kenzie’s lips burned from the kiss with Mitch, then she was spinning away from him, pushed hard enough that the pulley above sang.

  Mitch stood with his face away from her and hands clenched at his sides.

  Her father.

  He found them!

  She jumped from the swing’s seat, hands already initiating a defensive weave as she tried to anticipate the spells that her father would use. Her attention scattered, the opposite of earlier in the evening with her mother.

  “Miss Graham, may I ask you to stop conjuring, please, or I will be forced to have my man execute Mr. Merriwether.”

  Kenzie’s hands froze. Frantically, she tracked the smooth baritone voice. She focused on an older man, silver at the temples, less than ten yards from them. She recognized the look, though not the man. He stood at ease, like a master overseeing the boardroom, impeccably turned out in a suit that fit so well that it had to be custom made. A silver tie clasp gleamed in the moonlight, and he held his hands folded in front of him.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Who the hell are you?” demanded Mitch. He started toward the stranger.

  Kenzie left her hands in the air. She found the magic, but it slithered away like an eel escaping into a reef. She panted as she sought the calm to reacquire control.

  The man raised a hand in the universal sign to halt.

  “Mr. Merriwether, I will have you shot if you continue.” There was a pause as he touched something in his ear. “Miss Graham, very impressive, but you will cease your magic now and not try to call it forth, or whatever it is that you do, again, agreed?”

  Kenzie went numb with shock and dropped her hands. Mitch lurched to a halt. Kenzie saw that he had placed himself directly between the man and her.

  He knows when I’m using magic, she thought.

  Mitch spoke, rank suspicion coloring the words. “What do you want with Kenzie?”

  “How do you know it’s about me?” said Kenzie, directing her question to Mitch.

  “He hasn’t offered to shoot you twice in the last thirty seconds.”

  The man laughed with a practiced ease that belied any humor. Unease settled on Kenzie. She stepped sideways to get a clear view of the man, head tilted at an angle like a peasant totally engrossed by a cobra.

  Cobras are safer, she thought.

  “Very perceptive, Mr. Merriwether. My business is with Miss Graham, though I must thank you for getting her out of her house and away from Mr. Jackson. I can assure you that Mr. Jackson’s family will thank you as well. He is quite good at his profession, and I was beginning to believe that I would need to remove him in order to approach Miss Graham.”

  Mitch’s shoulders hunched forward, but Kenzie was relieved to see him hold his ground. The semi-paralysis that had seized her muscles at the first appearance of the man, when she feared her father had located her, transformed into a smoldering anger. The threat to Jackson added fuel.

  She took a deliberate step forward.

  “I’m going to stand next to Mitch,” she said through tight lips.

  As opening gambits for negotiation went, it sucked, but not as much as doing nothing.

  “Certainly, Miss Graham, please do.” The man met her with dry calculation. Lifting one hand, he stretched out an index finger toward Mitch. “If you wish, inspect the evidence that your very alert young man noted.”

  She needed information and time.

  “What’s your name?” asked Kenzie.

  “That is quite unimportant.”

  “Then we don’t have anything to negotiate,” said Kenzie, projecting strength though her legs wobbled under her. She reached Mitch’s side and glanced up. Two red dots sat on his forehead, one over each eye.

  “I am not here to negotiate.”

  Mitch hahed under his breath and spoke up. “Yeah, you are, at least some, otherwise you’d just shoot me and be done. You haven’t, meaning you want Kenzie’s cooperation for something. You tried to force it before, but the kidnapping didn’t work, so you’re back again, talking. So answer the lady instead of being a prick.”

  Kenzie drew a deep breath. Mitch was provoking a corporate tiger, the kind that crushed people who refused to “yes, sir” the boss, namely him. The kind that destroyed lives if it added two percentage points of profit to the bottom line. She put a hand on Mitch’s forearm to shut him up. His trembling anger roiling under her fingertips reinforced her will.

  “Your name?” she asked. “Please.”

  “You may call me Mr. Lassiter.” Mitch’s words had shredded Lassiter’s debonair façade, and Kenzie saw the feral intent in his eyes. The man’s glare never left Mitch as he answered. “Mitchell, I had high hopes that you might prove a useful addition with more seasoning and training. I see now that such a thought is untenable.”

  “Don’t call me Mitchell.” Mitch shrugged one shoulder while his head bobbed to the same side. “Doubt I wanted to work with you anyway.”

  The idiot is trying to get shot, she thought.

  “What may we do for you, Mr. Lassiter?” A tremor accompanied the words, and she prayed that Mitch would keep his big mouth shut.

  Lassiter looked away from the boy. He spoke, and Kenzie’s skin goosebumped like the temperature had dropped to near-freezing levels.

  “It is quite simple, Miss Graham. You will locate a storage device that your mother keeps in her possession. You will ensure that the device is not damaged in any way in the process of acquisition. You will deliver it to me, in intact condition, within seven days. You will ensure that no magic is attached to the device. Failure to accomplish these things within a seven-day period will result in a breach of our agreement, and I will begin imposing penalties. Do you understand?”

  Kenzie spoke over Mitch’s snort. At least he wasn’t talking. She imagined her mother standing in her place, corporate CEO, and channeled that alien persona.

  I can do this. But her knees quaked.

  “First, what does the storage device look like.” She took a deep breath and asked her second question, the one that she already knew the answer to, but she wanted in the open air. “Second, what are the penalties? Next, where is the device to be delivered? And finally, what is the inducement for me for successful completion of the project?”

  Lassiter examined her. Kenzie held her chin up and refused to break eye contact. He moved his hand again, that same type of gesture he’d used earlier.

  “Look at your right leg, Miss Graham.”

  She looked down as instructed. The hand on Mitch’s arm clenched while the other one drifted up to her stomach. Mitch leaned forward to see.

  One of the red dots held steady an inch above her knee.

  “It will be very hard to perform martial arts or run without your leg. The correct type of ammunition delivered to that precise location on your leg will have the effect of amputating it. That is your inducement.”

  Kenzie’s insides heaved, and she tasted bile in the back of her throat.

  “As for the penalties, in five days—”

  “You said seven,” said Mitch.

  “The young lady wanted to negotiate. It was, and is, a poor decision f
or a person with no leverage to attempt to change the terms.”

  Lassiter consulted his watch. “It is nine minutes after ten. In five days’ time, Mr. Jackson will be removed as an impediment.”

  Kenzie gasped. “Jackson hasn’t done anything,” she protested.

  “Nevertheless, he is a pawn on the board. It will be your decision whether you sacrifice him or not. In seven days, you will have a similar decision regarding Mr. Merriwether.” He paused. “This presumes that Mr. Merriwether does not flee, so his inducement to help you is your right leg.”

  Mitch stiffened, head dropping at the same time that his hands rose. The white across his knuckles showed in the pale light.

  “I’m not the gutless asshole hiding behind scopes in the middle of the night.”

  Kenzie cringed.

  “Shut up,” she said in an angry whisper. To Lassiter, she said, “Is it a hard drive, a thumb drive, or what? And once I have it, where do I deliver it?” She hoped her voice sounded more professional than she felt. She fought to keep her teeth from chattering and one fist in a tight ball while the other had to be cutting off circulation to Mitch’s fingers from the death grip on his forearm.

  “You will have to discover the media yourself, as my information does not extend to that. Do not take that to mean that you can substitute a forgery for the item, though. I will have an expert to inspect the delivery to ensure that it conforms to my expectations. As for the point of delivery, I will have instructions sent to you when I receive confirmation from you.”

  “How?”

  “In the parking lot, you will find a container holding two disposable cell phones secured within a Faraday bag.”

  Kenzie felt Mitch stiffen. The silver-haired bandit in front of them saw it, too.

  “Precisely, Mr. Merriwether. While in this specialized bag, the phones are ‘invisible’ to routine surveillance. There is a second Faraday bag in the box for the device, which you are to use to deliver the item on the assumption that your mother would not be so foolish as to not have a GPS tracker attached.

  “When you have the media for me, you, Miss Graham, will remove and turn on one phone from the first bag. It does not matter which. A text will arrive within three minutes to give you the time of the exchange. Dispose of the phone in the trash receptacle immediately across the street from your home, by the lake.