by Angel Lawson
“What if we stay out of the way?” After Blaze and Demetria, and frankly, even the appearance of Draco, she’s not willing to walk off the streets yet. What is his task force going to do if they come up against a man who can throw fire? Her recruits are good but they’re not supernatural. And that’s the difference.
Jensen rests his elbows on his thighs and looks her in the eye. “I’m telling you, it stops now.”
“Or what?”
“Or I can’t help you.” The look he gives her is kind. Empathetic. “Don’t make me come after you, Astrid. You’re my family. But I took an oath when I accepted this job. To take care of the people.”
She holds his eye and juts her chin forward. “Do what you have to do, Jensen. I won’t blame you.”
“So you’re refusing?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll consider it, but I need something in return.”
“Go on.”
“One of my men, I know you’ve been watching him.”
He nods. “The drug dealer.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s not a drug dealer. But yeah, take him off your list. It’s under control.”
“We think he may have murdered a woman.”
“He didn’t.” He gives her an uneasy, skeptical look. “Seriously, he didn’t. If you need to know the truth, whoever killed his aunt most likely also killed Atticus. You’re looking in the wrong direction.”
That news gets him to back off. “Okay, I’ll remove him from my official list of suspects, but you have to stay off the streets.”
“I’ll do what I can, but I won’t abandon the people in my community.” He sighs and she adds, “If something big happens, don’t expect me to stand back. You never would have stopped Demetria without us.”
The words hang in the room. The truth. Jensen may have manpower, weapons, and the backing of the city, but she and her team have something else—real power, and from the crease on his forehead, that’s exactly what he’s afraid of.
Chapter Three
Astrid
Draco’s office is unchanged since the last time she was there. The same photographs of his travels with his mentor. The huge screen behind the desk. The view of the city below the mansion takes up one wall of the room. One difference is the stack of papers on his desk. He’s taken over the CEO position at WIND-E, even if it’s just as a figurehead. Demetria trusted this man. That alone makes Astrid reconsider this arrangement.
“So,” she asks from her spot in the leather chair, “how’s the life of a CEO?”
“Not as interesting as you’d think,” he replies, smoothing his silk tie. His shirt is a crisp, starched white and contrasts nicely against his black pants that fit perfectly to his body.
His file back at the Lair describes his ability as Peak Human Condition. Basically, he’s strong, fast, and agile. He heals quickly and can take pounding by any enemy. He entered Project 12 as a perfect human specimen. Their medicine? It accentuated everything; his muscles, his bones, his extreme sense of morality. From all accounts, Draco is loyal, honest, and forthright.
Everything about him makes Astrid want to corrupt him. She’d like to drag him back to the Lair and dirty his hands with their fledgling superhero venture. Sully his face on a wanted sign by the police. Then she’d like to take him to bed and test what peak condition means in a dozen different positions.
It doesn’t matter if she takes off her gloves or not. Astrid knows Draco’s heart. He’s pure and he’s off limits. Not just because he’s so good, but because he’s good and tied up with Demetria, and it’s all just too confusing.
He looks at her from across the desk, assessing her with steel gray eyes, and she tries to keep her focus on why she’s there.
“I thought maybe we could go over Casper’s situation and then come up with a plan.” He speaks with authority and even with the distance she finds his presence intimidating. Not because of strength, but because of his good looks and undeniable confidence.
“What’s there to go over? Demetria kept him isolated for two years. Now he’s an unsocialized mess.”
“She didn’t force him, Astrid.” He always defends her, even now when she’s locked up in a sanitarium for her mental instability. “Casper’s mentor died and Demetria found him living in undesirable conditions. Like the rest of us, he didn’t grow up in a typical situation and his special abilities with computers made it easier for him to disconnect from the real world. He does have some friends—they’re just online—gaming mostly. He did have a relationship with Atticus and together they designed and created the tools, super suits, and equipment you use at Elite. And he reached out to you guys and helped you on your mission.”
All of that is true but it doesn’t help the fact that he’s lived alone for two years. She looks up at the screen and watches the real “goblin” tool around his high-tech workshop. Demetria spared no expense outfitting the facility. Like his cartoon avatar he’s Asian; his parents were Japanese, Draco told her. What’s surprising is his physique. Although there are dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and maybe daylight, he’s not small or emaciated. He looks strong—healthy. She mentions this to Draco.
“Demetria worried about his physical health and she insisted on healthy food and an exercise regimen. He’s not up to the standards of the athletes at your gym, but if he had to run, he could.”
“I’m impressed she got him to do that.”
Draco smiles. “People will do a lot of things when motivated. All we had to do was suggest he may want to be fit for the end of the world. The idea of outrunning zombies appealed to him.”
“And he doesn’t know about you or Demetria. He just thinks he’s here under some setup with his mentor.”
“That’s a little more complex. He and I have developed a relationship over the past few weeks, once it became clear to your group that I was a survivor too.”
She leans back in her seat and uses her abilities to search Draco’s echo. There’s a hint of a shadow over him. He doesn’t do deceit well. “So what else aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s going to take some work to get him out of there. I know he loves being part of your team, but for now you’re probably going to have to go to him instead of the other way around. People make him nervous. He’s seen some bad shit go down, like the rest of us, but he’s often the first to know it’s coming. He hangs around the dark web, messing in the kind of garbage that keeps a person up at night.”
“Okay. I don’t have a problem coming here.”
He taps his fingers on the desk. “But you’re right, there’s something else.”
And there it is. “Tell me.”
“It’s not a big deal but he’ll be embarrassed when you find out.”
“Embarrassed?” She gets an uneasy feeling, despite Draco’s assurances. She knows Casper is prone to watching them—watching her? Has he invaded her privacy? Is that what’s holding him back? She’s not prepared for what comes next.
“Casper alters his voice when he speaks to you over the coms and via video.”
“Wait, what?” Not what she expected. Thankfully.
“His voice. He alters it.”
“I’ve noticed that.” His voice has a tinny, unnatural ring to it at times. “Why?”
“He has a severe stutter. It makes him incredibly uncomfortable to speak to others. It’s one of the reasons he isolated himself at the group home.” He picks a folder up off the top of the stack. “We have a medical evaluation from his time with his mentor. He tried to get him into speech therapy and a few other resources. It seems like he was making progress until his mentor died, then he regressed.”
“Stuttering isn’t a big deal.”
“Not to you or me, but it is to him.”
He offers her the folder but she shakes her head. She already feels like she’s intruding on Casper’s private life too far. If she’s going to make any headway with him, it will have to be on their own terms.
“Okay,” she says, fus
sing with the edge of her gloves. “How do we want to do this?”
“I think I should talk to him.”
“And what about me?”
Draco shakes his head. “I want you to observe. I doubt he’ll be ready to face you yet, but you need to know what you’re getting into.”
“How much does he know so far?”
“He knows about Demetria and what happened to Kincade and Blaze. He watches the news. He doesn’t know that I told you about him.”
“Great, well, no time like the present, right?”
Draco moves to her side of the desk and sits in the chair next to hers. She catches a whiff of his ridiculous scent, vanilla and sugar, because you know, he needs to be more enticing.
He uses the remote and switches from a live feed to one where he can speak to Casper.
“Casper,” he calls. The man looks at the nearest computer monitor and his face lights up.
“Draco! What’s up?”
“Just checking in with you. You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah,” he says. It’s interesting to see this side of things. “I’ve just created an awesome tool for Quinn. It’s a baton that he can charge with his own electricity and use it to zap people. This way he doesn’t have to use his hands and modulate the current. The baton will do it for him.”
“That sounds impressive. I think he’ll like that.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty badass.” He holds it up and plays around, mimicking some defensive moves. Astrid can’t help but smile.
“So, look,” Draco says in an incredibly calm voice. “I have something I need to share with you.”
“What’s that?” Casper doesn’t look up from whatever it is he’s started messing with on the table.
“I know you value your privacy but I want you to know that I’m aware of your location.”
Casper pauses but doesn’t look at the camera. “Not possible dude. I’m off the grid.”
“Casper,” he says, but the man ignores him. “Cedric.”
That gets his attention.
“I know where you are and our feed is live. I can see you.”
He flips a bird at the camera. “Did you see that?”
“Actually yes. You’re wearing a blue shirt with some kind moose logo on the front. You need a haircut and there are three, no four, open soda cans on your desk.”
“How did you find me.”
“You’re not the only one with resources and you can’t keep hiding. You’re going to have to face your team and they want you as a more visible member of their group.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
He stares directly at Draco and now that it’s a real person and not a cartoon avatar, Astrid gets a good look at his face. He’s scared, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s also angry. “You know why. You’ve seen them—fuck, you’ve seen you. I can’t compete with all of that.”
“All of what?”
“The muscles and machismo and the talking. Hell, the talking. They talk all the fucking time.” He tosses his tool on the table. “Look, you all have your defenses. You have a shield and Quinn has his power and Owen can manipulate things to go his way. And if Astrid touches me…well, hell no. No. I’ve got nothing but this box and this thing that fixes my voice and I’m not going out there.”
Draco lets him stew for a minute before saying, “This is important, Casper. We need you, do you get that?”
“You have me, on my own terms.”
“But—” Draco’s eyes shift to hers and something shifts on Casper’s face. Maybe his eyes or the drop of his jaw. He’s too far away for Astrid to get a read on him but he stares into the camera and says, “Someone’s there with you.”
Mr. Perfect doesn’t lie. “Yes.”
“Who?”
With the remote Draco adjusts the camera. There’s no doubt when Casper sees Astrid’s face.
“Fuck you. Fuck you both. And stay the fuck away from me.”
The screen shorts out, turning black. He cut them off. Draco runs his hand over his face.
“Sorry,” Astrid says, feeling the bitter sting of tears in her eyes. She wipes them away before he can notice—or if he does, he’s kind enough not to say anything.
“Honestly, until that last part, it went better than I expected.”
“That was better?”
“He didn’t throw anything or break the camera. It’s happened before. I consider it a win.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Astrid says, crosses her legs. She doesn’t miss how he watches her move.
“Give him a few days to cool off. See if he sends over the tech or contacts you first.”
She nods. “I can do that.”
He reaches for her hand. “Thank you for coming by and giving it a shot. It means a lot to him even if he doesn’t realize it. I know things have been weird for us during this transition, but he needs you guys.”
“We’re a team. A jacked-up, misfit group of damaged and out of control people, but still…a team. He’s one of us if he wants it or not.” She touches Draco’s chin and he raises an eyebrow. “Well, all of us but you, Mr. Perfect.”
“You shouldn’t call me that,” he says. “I’m far from perfect.”
“That will be something you’ll have to prove for me to believe it.” She stands and crosses the room. The tension ratchets up too quickly between them. She knows when it’s time to leave. “But either way, we accept you, just like Casper. Got it?”
He nods and she walks away, feeling his eyes on her back. Draco may be perfect, but she suspects there’s more underneath the surface. What’s under there is the biggest question of all.
Chapter Four
Quinn
Astrid returns with a bag of tacos, a case of beer, and news about Jensen and Casper. He frowns at the bag, still worried about her eating habits, but tacos are better than pizza. Or so he thinks, until he watches her pour a spoonful of cheese dip over the top and then dip it into a container of sour cream.
“Ohmygodtheseareawesome.” She sits on top of the Lair desk and groans like a woman deprived of sustenance.
“You think Jensen is really going to back off?” Owen asks. He leans over and wipes a glob of sour cream off the corner of Astrid’s mouth and licks his finger.
Good grief.
“Yep. I told him you weren’t a murderer and he seemed to believe me.”
“What about the deal to stay off the streets?” Quinn asks. He dumps his tacos into a bowl and piles on the lettuce Astrid removed from hers to make a salad.
“I said we’d make an effort but that we’re still going to protect the city.” Her legs are criss-crossed and she takes a swig of her beer before going in for more food. “I’m not a fan of threats.”
“Did he say anything else about us?” Quinn asks.
“I told him you were Atticus-approved. Which,” she takes another sip, “is true, but mostly you guys need to be Astrid-approved and lucky for you both, you passed that test.”
Quinn raises his eyebrow in question. He’s wondered if Astrid and Owen had sex yet. The tension coming off Astrid had been palpable the past few days. Is this confirmation? The hungry look on Owen’s face makes him think they still haven’t crossed that line.
Quinn changes the subject. “Other than Casper losing his shit on you, how did he seem?”
“Good, I guess. He was busy working. The stutter thing is weird. I mean, does he think we’re going to judge him?”
“He’s bluffed a good game, As,” Owen says. “He’s mouthy and obnoxious. A total prick at times. It must be hard for him to have a weakness like this.”
“It’s not a weakness,” she says irritably.
“He thinks it is.”
The phone rings and everyone in the room freezes. It’s the burner. Just activated, and no one has ever called on it before.
“Pick it up!” Astrid shouts from across the room.
The phone buzzes again. No one moves.
“Yes! You’re closest!”
“For Christ’s sake,” Owen grumbles. He snatches the phone off the desk. “Hello?”
He listens and then snatches a piece of paper and pen off the desk. “Right. Right. Got it. Thanks for calling.”
He hangs up.
“Who was that?” Quinn asks. They’d only given the number to a few people in the community. That’s what it was. A hotline of sorts to connect the neighborhood with their team.
Owen glances at Astrid. “That was Luby.”
“My Luby?” she asks, but they only know one kid in the Swamp with that name, and after the fire with Blaze she’s taken the vandalizer under her wing. It’s the third tip-off he’s given them about a robbing crew terrorizing the Swamp. They’ve eluded them every time. “What did he want?”
“There’s a robbery going down at Scruggs’s barbershop.”
None of them move.
“What do you want to do?” Quinn asks. The deal Astrid made with the agent is only a few hours old and it’s already a problem.
“I told Jensen we’d stand down.”
“Scruggs is a good guy. He cuts my hair,” he replies. It’s unlike Quinn to want to break the rules. “Plus, he’s like, ninety years old.”
“Is the break-in in process?” She’s inching toward the changing room, one foot on the step.
“It’s a tip-off,” Owen says. “We could get there first.”
“We could,” she considers, pulling the sweatshirt over her head. “Maybe stop it before it starts.”
They all know she’s full of shit. There’s no way they’re backing down from helping the neighborhood. She told Jensen as much. She enters the closet, leaving a trail of clothing behind.
“Then we better hurry,” Quinn says, following her in.
They’ve perfected the process, timing one another to get changed as quickly as possible. Half of their issue was getting distracted by Astrid wiggling into her leather pants and then dealing with unfortunate, uncontrollable circumstances that made it challenging to get into their leather pants.