by Blaire Edens
“Do I need to introduce our guest?” Taylor gestured toward Redhawk.
The kids answered with a loud and resounding, “No!”
Clark walked into the circle of children and summoned his deepest voice. “Where is Louie?”
Amid whispers and shoves, a little boy with chubby cheeks and big blue eyes stepped forward. He was skinny, all knees and elbows. His hair was a mop of black curls. It was easy to see his mother in him.
“You’re Louie?” Clark asked.
The child nodded, his eyes never leaving the Redhawk mask.
“Happy Birthday, Louie.”
“Thank you, sir,” Louie said and stuck out his hand.
“I hear you’re a fan.” Clark took the little hand, and they shook. The kid’s handshake was impressive.
“Yes, sir. These are my friends. They love you, too.”
“I’m pleased to meet all of you.” Keeping up the deep voice wasn’t easy, and his throat felt weird. He knelt to look Louie in the eye. “I brought you a present. Would you like to open it?”
Louie nodded.
Clark handed him the small box.
The boy tore into the wrapping, shredding it so tiny pieces hit the carpet like confetti. When he opened the box, he gasped. “It’s a Redhawk 5000 Altimeter watch. Just like yours!” Louie clutched it in one hand and grabbed Clark’s leg with the other. “I can’t believe I have the real one! Thank you. Thank you. Now I can tell how high I’m flying.”
The watch was solid black with four or five tiny dials inside the main clock. It looked more complicated than the stainless-steel Rolex Submariner on Clark’s dresser at home. That was a trinket, something he’d bought on a whim after receiving a large commission. He only wore it a few times a year. He smiled. Louie would wear his new watch every day. He’d probably sleep in it.
It must’ve cost his mother a fortune.
A fortune his mother doesn’t have.
The Redhawk 5000 probably wasn’t very useful, but that didn’t pale the charms of the watch for the kid.
When the child looked up and Clark saw the admiration and appreciation in his watery blue eyes, his heart did something strange. It flipped over, jumped, something. He’d never really been around children, but this little boy looking up at him like he was the most wonderful person in the world almost made this favor for Taylor worth the rash. Almost.
“Let’s synchronize our watches.” Louie’s voice was high pitched with excitement.
Clark’s wrist was bare. “I had to leave mine behind. It needed, uh, it needed repairs.”
He’d blown his cover. Louie narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Clark felt his heart sink. Not only had he punched the kid’s dad, he’d ruined the birthday party.
Just as Clark opened his mouth to apologize, Louie said, “It’s the Blot again, isn’t it? That lousy, no-good, nasty villain. He’s at it again!”
Clark looked around the room. Every kid was nodding in agreement. He took a deep breath while a wave of relief washed through him.
Clark nodded. “You’re right.” He knelt on the carpet so he was eye level with all the kids. He lowered his voice to a whisper and tried to keep it low and gravelly. “It’s the Blot again.”
“You’re not Redhawk. He wouldn’t have time to come to some stupid birthday party,” a girl in the back said. “You’re just some dude Ms. Bishop hired to dress up and pretend to be Redhawk.” She was taller than the rest of the kids and chewed gum, moving it from side to side while she waited on his answer.
“You’re wise to question my true identity.”
Instead of responding, she cocked her head. Her pigtails belied what Clark knew must be a mind like a steel trap. He couldn’t choke now. She’d sound the alarm immediately.
“I’m Redhawk,” he said. “The real article.” Pigtails stared back at him. “You don’t believe me?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
He rose. “I didn’t want to do this, but I guess it’s the only way.” He tugged on his right sleeve. “I can’t show you the whole thing, and you must promise to never tell anyone what I’m about to reveal. Do I have your solemn vow?”
The kids all inched closer. A chorus of “yes, sirs” filled the dining room.
“Okay. Ma’am?” he said, turning to Taylor. “Can you check all the windows and doors? Make sure no one is listening that shouldn’t be?”
She nodded. “I’ll report back in a second.” She dashed from the room.
“Once we’re sure the place is secure from the Blot and his spies, I’ll show you the tattoo.”
Gasps. Giggles. Boys and girls jumped up and down on the hardwood floors. This was better than Christmas.
Taylor returned. “All clear, sir.” Her eyes twinkled with the conspiracy. He hadn’t seen that look in her eyes since they were kids.
He inched back his sleeve slowly, drawing out the moment. He placed his index finger over the last two numbers and held his arm up so the children could see. “Believe me now?”
Pigtails looked at him in total wonder. “You are real!”
Chapter Four
The children left an hour later, convinced they’d met the real Redhawk. Louie had gone home with one of the other boys for the night, new watch strapped on his arm, swagger in his step.
George, with a dish towel held to his nose, had finally gotten the bleeding under control. Without saying a word, he’d glared at Anna before stomping out the back door. When she heard him drive down the street, she’d breathed a huge sigh of relief.
While she had no idea what he was going to say or do about the punch, at least, he was gone for the moment, and she could breathe a little easier.
It was barely afternoon, and Anna was already more exhausted than she would have been after a full day’s work.
“I’d love to stay and help you clean up,” Taylor said. “But I’m due at the hospital soon. It’s my weekend. I’m sure Redhawk can lend a hand.” She nodded in Clark’s direction.
“I’ve got it. There’s not much to clean up,” Anna said. “Thanks again. It would’ve be a disaster without you.”
Taylor hugged Anna. “It was a great party, especially the part where George finally got what was coming to him.” Her best friend loved nothing more than a dose of good, old-fashioned justice.
“He may have deserved that punch, but I’m sure he’ll stick me with the bill.” Anna wished she could stop being so scared of George, but she couldn’t seem to stop worrying about his next move. She’d lived in fear when she was married to him, and the same was true now. She hated herself for it.
Taylor placed her hand on Anna’s arm. “Don’t worry. George will be fine, and if his nose is broken, Clark will pay for the medical bills. He’ll take care of everything. He always does. He’s a fixer.”
“I’m not a fixer,” he said, a sharp edge in his voice.
“I’m just making sure Anna knows who she’s dealing with.” Taylor reached into her purse and pulled out two twenties. “Here’s the refund from Ronnie. I gotta bounce. See you kids later.” She closed the door behind her.
Now that Anna was totally alone with Clark, she didn’t know whether she was a little scared or a lot excited. He was still in his costume, and with the house cleared of impressionable kids, she allowed her gaze to linger on the way the material hugged the muscular lines of his body. Perfectly. She needed to be more concerned with the custody of her son than with a hired Redhawk, but her longtime fantasy was standing in front of her, and it was screwing with her head. She forced herself to stop thinking about how he might look without the bodysuit.
“I hope George doesn’t use the pre-party punch as a way to get custody of Louie. Even though he’s been threatening to take him away from me for years, he’s never really tried. This might be his chance.” Anna slumped into one of the dining room chairs and dropped the trash bag onto the floor. “What am I going to do if he takes my son?” She bent at the waist and dropped her head into her hands.
&n
bsp; I’m sick of feeling so defeated.
She glanced up as Clark claimed the chair beside her and pulled off his mask. “I don’t know what came over me. I haven’t hit anyone since elementary school.”
Beneath his dark eyebrows, long eyelashes framed his bright-green eyes. While it was obvious that he and Taylor were related, his features were sharper and more angular. With high, chiseled cheekbones and the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow, the only thing that made his face less than perfect was his sharp, narrow nose. For Anna, that small detail made him even more compelling.
“I know you were trying to help, and in a fairy tale, it would’ve been the perfect solution. Too bad real life is so much more complicated.” She hated the way her voice cracked. George always seemed to have the upper hand, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she was just one step from falling flat on her face. “I wish it hadn’t played out that way.”
“I’m usually a mild-mannered architect.”
“Taylor says you’re a hermit.”
He shook his head. “I am not a hermit. Although, I might be a eunuch if I have to wear this costume much longer.”
“That would be a tragedy.” Anna blushed.
“I’d be forced to watch the women of Franklyn weep for weeks.” His lips spread into a lazy grin, revealing perfect teeth.
“Not if you don’t leave your house,” she countered.
“I see what you did there.” He laughed, revealing symmetrical dimples. “Maybe the costume made me brave. Maybe I went too deeply into character.”
I’d like to see him go even deeper into character.
The attraction flashed back to the surface, and her face heated.
“What a mess. Shit.” There was no doubt that Clark would be a very interesting distraction. Anna exhaled loudly. Her shoulders slumped, and she sank even deeper into the chair. “George has more money, a nicer house, and a hell of a lot more influence. He’s got every judge in town in his pocket. Do you even know who my ex-husband is?”
Clark sat beside her and raised one eyebrow. “Should I?”
Anna narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. “You live in Franklyn and you don’t know George Bishop?”
Recognition dawned on his face. “Just my luck. I couldn’t have punched a nobody. He’s a Bowling Ball Bishop ?”
“Yep. His parents own the factory just outside of town.” The company was the largest employer in the county and just about everyone had a spouse, a sibling, or a friend who worked for the Bishops.
“If that’s not irony, I don’t know what is. The scion of a bowling ball manufacturer with no balls of his own.” Clark couldn’t suppress the laugh. “Incredible.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t hit you back.” No, she wasn’t. Not really. If Clark had been a smaller man, George would’ve been more likely to punch back, but he didn’t like adversaries that had a chance. A classic bully, he preferred to pick on people hard pressed to defend themselves.
“With a punch like that, he recognized me as the alpha male.”
“Does the costume also come with the attitude? Or does that cost extra?”
“It must have been included,” Clark admitted. “I sound like The Rock, and I’ve never even watched wrestling.”
“It was nice to see him on the receiving end for once.” And it was. A big part of her wanted to jump up and cheer.
“I’m not sorry I hit him. He had that coming.” He placed his hand over hers and looked into her eyes. Electricity surged through her body, magnifying the attraction she already felt. “I am sorry that it caused you worry. But whatever happens, I’ll make it right. Whatever it takes to help you keep Louie, I’ll do it. You have my word on that.”
Anna shook her head. As generous as Clark was to offer, she didn’t want his help, or anyone else’s. While her life was far from trouble free, it was manageable. With someone else in the mix, that wouldn’t be a given. Far from it. “Louie and I are fine. On our own. While I appreciate your willingness to step in, it’s better if I handle him. I need to find some courage and stop being afraid of George.”
“I handled him pretty well.”
“Is that the Redhawk suit talking again?”
“No. That’s a man who doesn’t like to see a woman disrespected.”
“Bet you wouldn’t have done the same in a button-down and silk tie.”
“My principles are not dictated by what I’m wearing.”
“He’s going to find out it was you.”
“I hope he does. I’ll tell him myself.”
“That’s definitely the costume talking,” Anna said. She rose and picked up the trash bag. Cleaning helped her keep her mind off her worries. It always had, and it was the main reason she’d started her housekeeping business.
“The cape may be the reason I’m full of bravado, but I’m serious when I say I’ll take care of any fallout.” He tossed a couple of empty juice boxes into the bag and moved closer to her. The woodsy, clean scent of his cologne tickled her nose, and she inhaled, savoring the nearness of him. He placed his hands on her upper arms and looked into her eyes. The sincerity in his green eyes mesmerized her. “I won’t let him take your boy.”
The heat of his body blazed against hers, with their lips only inches apart. When she looked up at him, he tilted his head downward and, for a sliver of a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he stays with you.”
Anna nodded, trapped between trying to pay attention to what he was saying and forcing herself to ignore her hormones, which had clearly gone rogue. “Thank you.”
He released her arms and the tension in the room eased. “I’ll help you finish.”
If only.
They worked well together, and within half an hour, the dining room was clean and all the trash was in the can outside the kitchen door. Anna was just putting the vacuum cleaner in the hall closet when her cell phone vibrated. Taylor.
“His nose is broken,” Taylor whispered into the phone. She was calling from the hospital. “I shouldn’t even be telling you that much. Gotta go.” She disconnected.
Shit. Anna leaned against the wall and tried to keep her mind from racing in several different directions at once.
“What’s next?” Clark asked from the other end of the hallway. “Are you okay?” He moved toward her.
“His nose is broken. Taylor just called.”
“He’s not going to take your son. Simple as that.” Clark set his jaw.
He opened his arms, and before she realized what she was doing, she stepped into them and let him hold her while she cried tears of fear and frustration.
She pulled away. His arms felt too safe. Safe, when it came to men, was a big red flag, and she wasn’t falling for it.
Never again.
…
Clark was exhausted. He’d never been so hot. Or so damn itchy. Any dreams of being a real superhero had been crushed by the costume. The spandex just wasn’t worth it even if all the mothers had licked their lips every time they’d looked at him.
Not that I noticed anyone but Anna.
He’d be dreaming about that short denim skirt, and what was underneath it, for weeks.
He hadn’t been on a date in ages. Even though Taylor was constantly playing matchmaker, he was never attracted to any of the women she suggested. Anna was a whole different story, and the first time he’d met her, he was in metallic spandex.
Even if he’d been in his usual pressed chinos and button-down, it wouldn’t have made any difference. He wasn’t a family man. He couldn’t be. Clark had proven that he couldn’t be trusted to look after the people he cared about most, and the last time he’d checked the definition of “family man,” it included looking after others. Anna needed a man who could protect her, save her from her asshole of an ex-husband.
Clark wasn’t that man.
Considering what I did to Jake, I don’t deserve
a family.
He sank down onto Taylor’s sofa and began peeling off the layers of the costume.
After a long, cold shower and changing back into his jeans and T-shirt, he felt like himself again, but the party had left him feeling restless, the attraction to Anna making him edgy. He hadn’t felt such a strong pull toward a woman in ages. If ever. He couldn’t get the memory of her smell out of his mind. The way her body fit perfectly against his. He was attracted to her in a way he couldn’t explain, even to himself.
Even though he hadn’t intended to break George’s nose, he wasn’t sorry. Clark knew regret better than most men, and the punch he’d thrown at Anna’s ex didn’t fit into that category. He’d deal with the fallout tomorrow. It would likely be a while before the bastard left the hospital, and the pain meds would keep him sedated for at least twenty-four hours.
After hanging the Redhawk costume on the back of the bathroom door, he locked up Taylor’s house and drove toward the east side of town. He needed to stop by Jake’s apartment and check on him. Make sure he had groceries. That he didn’t need any help.
Clark and Jake had been best friends since Mrs. Doyle’s kindergarten class. From the start, they’d agreed on everything. Legos, the sandbox, and Matchbox cars. Their friendship had persevered through mean teachers and heartbreaking girls. Their bond had even survived Jake’s transfer to public school in sixth grade when the Davis family fell on hard times. They were closer than most brothers.
Clark pulled his truck into the spot beside Jake’s big, white Chevy van parked in the handicapped spot.
All because of me.
He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.
Eighteen months. Five hundred and forty days. He looked at the numbers on his wrist. Even without the tattoo, he’d never forget the date. The ink was a permanent reminder he was the reason Jake had lost a leg, a permanent reminder he was the reason Jake couldn’t make his living as a building contractor, and a permanent reminder that one piss-poor decision had nearly cost his best friend his life.