The Bigtime Series (Bigtime superhero series, e-bundle)

by Jennifer Estep

  I drew in a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  We stepped inside the restaurant, and Kyle Quicke greeted us. Like Bulluci Industries, Quicke’s was very much a family business, a couple of generations strong now. It seemed like Kyle was always at the restaurant, morning, noon, and night. With his chestnut hair, light eyes, and thin physique, Kyle was cute—if a bit on the lean side.

  “Devlin, my man! Good to see you!” Kyle’s face broke into a grin at the sight of his cousin.

  The two of them shook hands and exchanged hearty back slaps. Then, Devlin stepped aside.

  “And I’m sure you know Bella Bulluci.”

  Kyle nodded. “Bella.”

  “Kyle.”

  He grabbed a couple of menus from underneath the podium by the front door. “Let me show you guys to your table.”

  We wound our way through the restaurant. All the greenery and twinkling lights for the bachelor auction had been cleared away, and the décor had reverted back to its usual superhero-and-ubervillain motif. The posters, the toys, the newspaper clippings. They beamed at me from their positions on the walls. I grimaced. Too bad.

  Kyle seated us in a secluded booth at the back of the restaurant. Devlin helped me slip into my side, then took the opposite one. Kyle handed us both menus before leaving. We made small talk for a few minutes before giving the waiter our orders. Devlin opted for grilled swordfish while I gave in to temptation and ordered four-cheese manicotti. With berry-flavored sangria and a piece of cherry pie for dessert.

  “I really shouldn’t be eating this,” I said fifteen minutes later, eyeing the steaming mound of pasta and cheese in front of me. “I don’t know why I ordered it. The carbs are going to wreck my diet.”

  “You don’t look like you need to be on a diet.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, but I could stand to lose a few pounds.”

  “Oh, be dangerous. Live a little,” Devlin teased in a shy tone.

  I stared at him. He was one to talk about living dangerously. Didn’t he realize the danger he put himself in every time he slipped into his silly costume? Every time he broke into some museum? Every time he took something that wasn’t his?

  “Did I say something wrong?” Devlin asked, noticing my grimace.

  “Of course not,” I replied. “I’m just thinking about how many hours I’m going to have to spend on the treadmill tomorrow to make up for tonight.”

  “There are other ways to get your exercise.”

  I flashed back to our time in bed together. That had certainly been a vigorous workout—very vigorous.

  “Oh, really? What did you have in mind?” I asked in a sexy, impish voice.

  Devlin almost spit out his wine. He started choking and didn’t recover his breath for several seconds. If I hadn’t known better, I would have bought the whole geeky, I’m-painfully-shy-around-women act. But I did know better. Devlin Dash could do things to a woman that she’d only dreamed about or read in romance novels.

  Devlin did most of the talking during dinner, stammering through stories about Grace, Kyle, Kelly, and other far-flung members of his family. I made the appropriate noises, but I was too busy looking for hidden meanings in his words to add much to the conversation. An hour later, we finished dinner. Devlin looked positively miserable. He kept fiddling with his wineglass and rubbing his temples, as though the evening hadn’t gone as he’d planned.

  “Would you like to go someplace? Maybe for a walk or something?” Devlin asked.

  But evidently, he wasn’t miserable enough to end the evening. I didn’t plan on letting him do that anyway. Not until I’d confronted him.

  I stared into his eyes, blue eyes that had haunted my dreams for days. “Sure. In fact, I know the perfect place.”

  * * *

  I asked Devlin where his car was and if he wanted to drive. The businessman claimed he had a friend drop him off. To me, it was another telltale sign he was really Debonair. Why drive when you could just teleport anywhere you wanted to?

  “We’ll take my car, then,” I said, unlocking the Benz. “It’s not that far to the marina.”

  Devlin looked at me strangely. “Why do you want to go to the marina this time of night?”

  “I love listening to the waves and watching the moon rise over the bay. I think it’s very romantic. Don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  We rode in silence through the quiet streets. For once, I didn’t see any superheroes out and about. No Granny Cane pummeling muggers. No Swifte racing to and fro. No Black Samba surfing on top of a city bus. After about ten minutes, I pulled to a stop in front of the entrance to the marina. Bigtime bordered the Atlantic, and the ocean cut a wide, jagged oval into the middle of the city. A manmade river flowed down the towering hill from the observatory, spilling out into the ocean and helping to form the shallow waters of Bigtime Bay.

  I eased the Benz over a couple of speeds bumps and found the last empty space on the street. We got out of the car and strolled towards the water’s edge. Our shoes clacked on the round cobblestones that connected the street to the long boardwalk that wrapped around the bay. The tall spires of the Bigtime Maritime Museum hovered above us, along with the massive, pentagon-shaped beams that supported the Skyline Bridge. Lights from various boats bobbed up and down farther out in the bay. Chilled, I drew my scarlet wrap tighter around my shoulders.

  “Here, let me.” Devlin took off his jacket and draped it over my shivering shoulders.

  I buried my face in the collar. Smoldering roses. Of course.

  We settled on an iron bench in the shadow of the Skyline Bridge and looked out over the bay. Despite my pretenses to get Devlin here, it really was a beautiful view. The moonlight made the waves seem like streams of silver coming into and going out from the sandy shore. A few gulls cried in the night sky, but the constant rush of the waves crashing on the pebbled beach muted their harsh calls.

  We didn’t speak for a long time.

  “You know, I’m surprised you agreed to come out with me tonight,” Devlin said. “Even if I did pay for the pleasure.”

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “I don’t exactly seem like your type.” He picked up a loose bit of stone and skipped it across the water.

  “And what would my type be?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone suave. Sophisticated. Confident. Handsome.”

  “You’re not all of those things?” I said, trying to tease him a bit. “Because you hide it very well.”

  “Not really.”

  I was silent for a moment. “Actually, I was glad you called. I wanted to see you again.”

  “Really? Why?” He sounded surprised.

  “Because I wanted to talk to you. To tell you that I know the truth,” I said, staring him in the eyes. “To tell you that I know you’re really Debonair.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Devlin stared at me. His face paled. Sweat beaded on his forehead. A bit of nervous laughter escaped his trembling lips.

  “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” I demanded.

  Devlin took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.

  “I could barely summon up enough courage to call you and ask you out, even though I bid on you at the auction.” Devlin put his glasses back on. “I’m a total klutz when it comes to women. And you think I’m Debonair? Of all the superheroes in Bigtime, he’s the one I’m least like.”

  He let out a few more nervous giggles, trying to pass off my accusation as nothing more than a joke.

  “Well, that’s funny,” I replied in a calm voice. “Especially since I have proof that you are, in fact, Debonair.”

  I drew the drawing and the check out of my purse and showed them to him. “See? The two signatures match perfectly. Care to explain that?”

  Devlin quit laughing. He looked at the two scraps of paper, then at me. I got the impression he wanted to teleport away. Somewhere far, far away.

  I reached
over and slid the glasses off his face. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not anymore, Devlin Debonair Dash.”

  He looked at me, really looked at me, and I realized I was staring into the face of the man I’d slept with. The face of the man I’d come to care about.

  Devlin tucked his glasses in his pocket. His mouth twisted. “Of course, I do. I have to hide from everyone. “

  I thought about what Lulu said about how finding out a superhero’s real identity ruined the mystery, the fantasy, for her. Maybe Devlin thought that way too. “Why do you say that?”

  He let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. “Because if people found out I was really Debonair, they’d be angry with me. Think I betrayed them in some way. That I’d lied to them all these years. They’d laugh and snicker and point their fingers, especially the women. I couldn’t stand that.”

  “Why do you even do it?” I asked. “Why be somebody like Debonair?”

  Devlin stared down at his scuffed wingtips. “I’m not like the other men on the society scene in Bigtime. I’m not that rich, at least not anymore. I’m not that handsome, and I never know the right thing to say. I can’t even tell a good joke. Half the time, I forget the punch line. I’ve always been awkward and self-conscious, particularly around women. I’ve never felt like I fit in, not even in my own family. Debonair is a way for me to be everything I want to be. Suave. Smooth. Cool. Confident. Everything I’m not in real life. It’s an escape from being average, boring, nerdy Devlin Dash, if only for a few hours at a time.”

  “I see.”

  And I did. I understood Devlin better than he realized. I used to dream of being Johnny Angel, and I’d seen the effect a secret identity had on people like my father. To some, it was better than the most potent drug. More desirable, more addictive, and much more harmful.

  “I don’t think people would laugh at you if they knew the truth. You’re a very interesting, special man in your own right, Devlin.”

  He gave me a wan smile, as if he didn’t really believe me.

  “And your powers?” I asked, wanting to know the rest of the story. “How did you get your powers?”

  Devlin looked out into the shimmering water. Memories clouded his blue eyes. “You know my grandmother, Grace, raised me. My parents died in a sailing accident when I was thirteen. What you don’t know, what very few people know, is that I was with them when it happened. We were out on the bay when a sudden storm swept up. My father tried to turn the boat back to shore, but the sail snapped. Lightning danced across the sky, coming toward the boat. I knew it was going to hit us. Right before it did, I felt this odd sort of power grow inside me. My vision grew fuzzy, hazy, almost like I was standing in a sea of fog. The next thing I knew, I was in the middle of the bay, trying not to drown. A second later, lightning struck the boat, and it exploded. They say my parents died instantly. They never found their bodies.”

  “But you didn’t die.” I squeezed his hand, willing him to go on with his story. “You survived. How?”

  Devlin drew in a deep breath. “Cap’n Freebeard and his Saucy Wenches saw the explosion and came to help. They found me clinging to a piece of debris. They rescued me and kept me safe until Grams could come and get me.”

  Devlin watching his parents drown, discovering his power, being taken aboard Freebeard’s love boat. That would have had a major impact on him. The shock, the trauma, the stress. It was the beginning of him becoming Debonair.

  From his story, it sounded like Devlin had a natural, genetic mutation that gave him superpowers, unlike Carmen Cole, who’d only developed hers after being dropped into a vat of radioactive waste. Or Henry Harris, who’d been struck by lightning. Or a dozen other legends I’d heard. Devlin was more like me than I’d realized.

  “I know why you were in Berkley’s house that night. You were stealing the painting so you could restore it, weren’t you? That’s why you steal all the art you do.”

  He nodded. “I take the paintings, restore and preserve them, and then return them to their owners—or to the nearest museum. There’s no real harm in it. I do it because I can’t stand to see beautiful things wasting away. I suppose I’m an art lover, like you. I always have been.”

  I took a deep breath and moved on to what I really wanted to know. “I understand why you saved me from Hangman. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But what I don’t understand is why you kept me in the Lair of Seduction. Is that standard operating procedure until your seduction techniques work? Or was there a special reason we slept together?”

  “I kept you in the Lair of Seduction because I wanted to keep you safe and…because I wanted to spend time with you.”

  “But why?”

  I had to know. I just had to know.

  Devlin stared into my eyes. “Because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now, Bella.”

  My heart leapt up into my throat, and my stomach flipped over. “You’re what?!”

  He took my cold hand in his own. “I’m in love with you, Bella Bulluci. I have been ever since we went out all those months ago.”

  “But—but why? We only had dinner that one time. You barely knew me then. Or know me now. Or...whatever.”

  “I’ve been interested in you ever since we chaired that art exhibit out at Paradise Park.”

  “But that was months ago!”

  “I know.”

  I shook my head. “But you never called or asked me out. You didn’t even talk to me that much when I’d see you at events.”

  A wry smile twisted Devlin’s face. “Like I said before, I’m not very good with women. But after that, I started watching you. Talking to you when I could. And I realized what a special person you are. How warm and kind and caring.”

  “But why didn’t you say anything before?” I asked. “I would have gone out with you. I would have given you a chance.”

  “I couldn’t. I was too afraid. You’re so beautiful, so sophisticated, so elegant. I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

  With all the messes my jinx created, I knew what it felt like to be made fun of. I gripped his hand tighter. “I would never laugh at you.”

  He squeezed back. “I know that now, Bella. When you put yourself up for auction at the museum benefit, I decided to bid on you.”

  My eyebrows rose. “You spent twenty-thousand dollars just to have a date with me?”

  “I’d spend that much and a thousand times more.”

  I didn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened by the fervor in his voice.

  “When we had dinner earlier this year, I thought we had a wonderful time. You smiled at me and seemed interested in what I was saying. You even laughed at my jokes. Nobody ever laughs at my jokes.” The smile left Devlin’s face. “But you never called me afterward like you said you would.”

  “I was going to,” I said in a soft voice. “That night after dinner, I found out my father had been killed. Murdered, actually. I was a mess after that. It’s no excuse, but I forgot all about you. Afterward…other stuff just kept happening.”

  “What other stuff?”

  I grimaced. “Superhero stuff. My brother was kidnapped by ubervillains a couple months after my father was killed. It was a stressful time, to say the least.”

  Devlin looked puzzled. “Who kidnapped your brother? I didn’t hear anything about that, and Kelly didn’t mention it to me.”

  “It doesn’t really matter,” I said, glossing over the details.

  We sat there for several minutes before Devlin spoke again.

  “What about now, Bella? I know we haven’t exactly gotten off to the best start, but I want to be with you. Do you think there’s a chance you would want to be with me too?”

  His voice sounded so fragile, so small, and yet so hopeful it broke my heart. Because the answer to his question was no, and it always would be.

  “I don’t want to get involved with a superhero,” I said. “I can’t, Devlin.”

  “Why not? I don’t understand why you hat
e superheroes so much.”

  I closed my eyes, debating whether I should tell him my family secret. I supposed it was only fair, since I knew his. “Have you ever heard of Johnny Angel?”

  “The guy who rides his motorcycle around town?” Devlin seemed startled by the abrupt change in conversation. “The one who wears the black leather jacket with the angel wings on the back and hangs out with the biker gangs?”

  I nodded. “Well, let’s just say Johnny Angel is sort of a Bulluci family tradition.”

  His blue eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

  “My father died because he was Johnny Angel,” I said. “He tried to help some friends stop a couple of ubervillains, and they killed him for getting in the way.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  I shrugged, used to hearing the condolences. “Not many people do.”

  Devlin stared at me. “You’re afraid the same thing will happen to me. That Hangman or some ubervillain will kill me.”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I already have a bit of a soft spot for you, Devlin. I don’t need, I don’t want my heart to be crushed again by a superhero. And it would, if we starting seeing each other.”

  “But I’m not a superhero,” Devlin said. “Not really.”

  I shook my head. “You’re close enough. You go out and break into museums. Steal things from people. Teleport around the city and pick up sexy superhero awards. You even have an archenemy in Hangman.” Sadness tinged my voice.

  “Bella—”

  He started to protest, but I put a finger to his lips, shushing him. “No, Devlin. It would never work out between us. Trust me. Please. We can’t be together. Not now. Not ever.”

  Devlin stared at me for a long time, his eyes dark and sad. Then—

  POP!

  He vanished.

  Just like always.

  * * *

  I waited for him to return. To realize my finding out his secret identity wasn’t the end of the world. To tell me being a superhero wasn’t that dangerous. To ask me to reconsider. To demand we be together, now and always. But he didn’t.

  And part of me wanted him to, no matter how I tried to pretend otherwise.