Building a Hero: The Complete Trilogy

by Tasha Black

“We should destroy it right now,” West reached for the device.

  “Not so fast,” Dalton said, pulling it away. “If we destroy it, then they’ll know we found it. And it’s not like they don’t know we’re here. Maybe I’ll hold onto it for a while, until I really need to disappear.”

  “Okay,” West said. “Now what? You said you got some info on your way out?”

  “Should we talk somewhere more private?” Dalton asked.

  “This room has state of the art privacy features installed and…” Mallory began. “Oh. You’re talking about me.”

  “Mallory’s in,” West explained. “She needs to know what we’re up against if she going to augment my equipment to face it. We’re a team, I guess.”

  He thought of Jess. His sidekick - no, his partner. Until a few minutes ago. Would she ever forgive him?

  “Fair enough,” Dalton said, not missing a beat. “You know about Alpha Division, and how they want to enhance their soldiers. Well, Project Cerberus is a castoff, no longer under Alpha’s control. They’re developing a unit of highly trained soldiers, with human-canine DNA splice.”

  Malloy’s eyes widened.

  “How does that even work? I’d love to see the research on that,” she said. “Sorry. Go on.”

  “Which got me to thinking,” Dalton continued, “about how no one puts that much time into a unit that isn’t going to see any action. I needed to find out where Sterling was planning to deploy her soldiers.”

  He grabbed his shirt and tried to put it back on, but there wasn’t much left of it.

  “I can get you guys some lab coats,” Mallory said, staring at Dalton’s large frame. “Although I doubt we have any in size extra beefcake.”

  He smiled at her.

  “Sorry,” she added quickly, “again.”

  “We can go up to the penthouse and get cleaned up,” West addressed Mallory, trying to hide his own smile.

  “So did you figure it out?” he asked Dalton. “Where is she sending the troops?”

  “She’s not,” Dalton said. “That’s the crazy part. The unit is slotted to be deployed right here in Glacier City.”

  “Here?” Mallory asked. “What for?”

  “That part I wasn’t able to figure out, and I had to leave rather suddenly” Dalton admitted. “But I figure the next step is to trace the money. That type of facility doesn’t come cheap. If we find out who’s footing the bills, that might point us in the right direction.”

  “Where do we start?” Mallory asked. “Pull public records on the zoo?”

  “No need,” West told him. “The zoo is currently owned by one Mr. Constantine Panchenko.”

  West basked in the victory of putting it all together, for only a second before he remembered.

  He had uncovered that information with Cordelia.

  What had he just done?

  He’d managed to compartmentalize his emotions long enough for his friend to be put back together. But now they were spilling over, exploding.

  He had tried to chase after Cordelia, to apologize, to somehow make everything the way it was before his injuries.

  But his legs had refused to move.

  He knew someday the glitch would happen during something important. He just never imagined it would be that important.

  Could he ever run fast enough, or punch hard enough to get her back?

  West was beginning to rethink some of his decisions.

  With a Herculean effort, he pushed the thought away. He needed to focus on the new problem.

  “Constantine ‘The Tailor’ Panchenko?” Dalton asked incredulously.

  “The one and only,” West confirmed.

  “Who’s that?” Mallory asked.

  “The patriarch of a big time Ukrainian mob family,” West explained.

  “And he’s some kind of tailor?”

  “Not exactly,” Dalton explained. “But he does have habit of sewing people’s mouths shut when they say something he doesn’t like.”

  “I so wish I didn’t know that,” Mallory said with a small shudder. “Why would he want Project Cerberus?"

  “That’s a good question,” Dalton said.

  “There’s a big power play going on in the Glacier City underworld right now,” West explained. “Soldiers like that could give Panchenko what he needs to make sure his organization, the Malina, comes out on top.”

  Dalton whistled.

  “That’s some heavy duty shit right there.”

  “What are we going to do?” Mallory asked, wide-eyed.

  “Nothing we can do about it right now,” West sighed, thinking more about Cordelia than Panchenko. “Maybe a hot shower and some shuteye will give us a better outlook.”

  Mallory nodded.

  Dalton hopped off the table.

  “Thank you, Mallory,” he said, kissing the top of her head on his way past to the elevator.

  West tried again not to laugh at the fan-girl look on her face.

  “Thanks, Mal,” he told her.

  “That’s my job. Apparently.”

  The elevator arrived and they rode it up in silence.

  West tried not to think about the last time he was in the Worthington Building above ground level. Especially the part where he plummeted twelve stories to what should have been his death.

  Was it all just a big cosmic coincidence, or had he survived for a reason?

  The doors opened into the penthouse.

  His old place stood still and silent. The afternoon clouds outside reflected in the dark hardwood of the penthouse floor, making it feel as if stepping out of the foyer and into the living room would be like jumping into the sky.

  West shuddered and stayed away from the windows as he headed to the staircase. He would come to terms with his height issues - just not today. He was too tired for another battle.

  “I’ll just grab some clean clothes and head back to my place,” Dalton said.

  “Because that worked out so well for you last time?” West asked. “I think as long as you have that tracking device, we should probably stick together, just in case.”

  “In case you need to save me again?” Dalton asked with a raised eyebrow.

  West tried to give him back a look, but ended up laughing instead. Dalton laughed too. It wasn’t even really funny. It was just such a relief not to be running.

  West looked up at his dinosaur fossil, then back at the elevator, hoping there was no way for an unauthorized rider to get to the penthouse.

  A bright splash of red ribbon caught his eye.

  On the oak console table by the elevator, sat a package with a large bow.

  Was it a welcome home gift?

  No one even knew he was back yet.

  “I thought we made a pretty good team last night,” he told Dalton, as he removed the ribbon and opened the box.

  “We did,” Dalton replied. “A really good team. But this is serious. An entire unit of super soldiers is bad enough. You really want to go head to head with the Malina? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’d look good with my mouth stitched shut.”

  West held up the contents of the box.

  Jess.

  She must have left it here for him.

  His heart sagged in his chest like a deflated bike tire. And he still had so many miles to ride.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Dalton asked.

  “Someone needs to do something about the bad things happening in this city,” West said, gazing at the gift.

  He met Dalton’s eyes.

  “It might as well be us,” West said.

  THE END of Augmented.

  Turn the page to continue with Book 3 - Upgraded.

  Upgraded (Book 3)

  1

  Edward Dalton savored the whisper of a warm breeze on his neck as he gazed down ten stories at the quiet parking lot. Summer had taken hold of the city below. Even though he was on duty, this moment on the rooftop served as a welcome respite from the heat.

  Dalton had sp
ent most of the last few years watching over Westley Worthington in one form or another, as his friend and as the head of security for Worthington Enterprises. Now, he was literally watching over him. He waited for West to get into position, so he could take out the lights.

  Although there was no guarantee that their adversaries would wait until he and West were set up.

  Dalton peered through the scope of his rifle. No movement in the shadows below, and his heightened senses weren’t picking up anything special. Only the usual smells of Glacier City - smog, sweat and cooking spices and, rising from the subway, the unique blend of bad things and bleach that roiled below the street.

  And the four scumbags who waited, unsuspecting, in the shadows for a big delivery.

  This was his fifth night in a row out with West.

  Crime had exploded in Glacier City these past few weeks, and the police were losing control of the streets. West and Dalton were taking serious action to help stem the surge of atrocities. But all their efforts were beginning to feel like a finger in the dam.

  West wasn’t about to give up, though. And Dalton was pretty sure it wasn’t just a desire to save the city that motivated him.

  Ever since West had blown up at Cordelia, and sent her and her wheelchair-bound sister packing, he had been a broken man, seeking distraction at every turn.

  Cordelia Cross was a one in a million woman. She was smart, but with a kindness that was almost maternal. And although she had a no-nonsense way about her, and certainly wasn’t one to dress for her assets, as soon as you got to know her you couldn’t stop noticing how beautiful she was. That inner beauty glowed through everything she did, and in Dalton’s eyes she was radiant.

  He could only imagine how West felt.

  Dalton had watched West grow from a reckless playboy into something resembling a man through Cordelia’s friendship. He figured it was only a matter of time before they came to their senses and fell in love.

  The night West lashed out at Cordelia had been a train wreck.

  But Cordelia wasn’t the kind of person to hold a grudge. Dalton couldn’t understand why West didn’t reach out to her, apologize, and throw himself at her feet. She wouldn’t have left him there for long.

  But Dalton had promised himself long ago not to get tangled up in another man’s love life.

  After three days under the cloud of a despondent employer, however, Dalton had broken that promise and asked West if he should arrange a meeting with Cordelia and her sister, Jess.

  West had politely declined, his face a mask of practiced nonchalance.

  But what Dalton heard was more complicated. Pain colored his friend’s voice, his heart raced. Dalton even got the sharp scent of fear coming off him.

  The whole thing had left Dalton shaken, and he’d dropped the matter after that.

  Movement in the parking lot below pulled Dalton out of his thoughts.

  West.

  Even with his night vision, and knowing where to look, Dalton could barely see him. The suit the kid had made for him was pretty amazing.

  The gear was tight, almost form-fitting, and covered West from head to toe. And it was made from a material that picked up ambient light frequencies and retransmitted them. Which had the effect of making the color of the suit match whatever colors surrounded it.

  A high-tech invisibility cloak, basically.

  Dalton had heard that the military was developing stuff like that for adaptive camouflage, but he’d never seen it in action.

  As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even sure how a teenager could get her hands on material like that.

  But Jess was as determined as her big sister, and maybe even more intelligent. And she had a gift for all things related to vigilante crime fighting.

  Her access to West’s bottomless credit card probably hadn’t hurt either.

  At any rate, the adaptive camo wasn’t even the best part. The torso of the suit was wired to give off high intensity infrared, blinding any type of night vision goggles, and making it almost impossible to get a picture or video image of West in action.

  West moved into position below, at the flank of the four men standing at the mouth of the abandoned lot.

  If their intel was correct, these men were waiting for a pretty sizable delivery of illegal firearms.

  As if on cue, an unmarked van turned from an adjoining street into the parking lot and pulled up short.

  Two more men got out. Dalton could see, even from his vantage point, that they were armed with submachine guns.

  The deal was going down.

  In the lot below, West powered up his suit. The torso gave off a faint glow as he approached the men.

  Dalton’s cue.

  Utilizing his unique position above the action, Dalton quickly used his silenced rifle to take out the lights over the parking lot. One, two, three, four. Done.

  Then he watched through his scope, all his senses amped up to the max.

  He could drop most of them before they knew what was happening, he’d always been the best marksman in his unit.

  But that wasn’t their style.

  He and West had agreed that they needed to intimidate the criminals as much as possible, but still set a good example for the decent folks of Glacier City.

  A killing spree wouldn’t really help their image.

  That was easy enough to decide ahead of time in the comfort of West’s penthouse. But Dalton had seen the heat of battle. In these moments of crux, Dalton lay in wait, ready to ditch the high road if West got in over his head.

  What he saw right now troubled him.

  The first four men scrambled like cockroaches, just as he anticipated.

  The other two, the ones from the van, were more worrisome. They moved in a tight formation, checking all the angles, using the van for cover.

  The behavior was too professional. It screamed military to Dalton, and it set off warning bells.

  The two men hopped back into the vehicle, trying to make a quick getaway with their load intact.

  Dalton bided his time, waiting for the van to pick up a little speed.

  When they were moving along nicely, he took his shot.

  His aim was true. The bullet punctured the front tire just as the vehicle took the sharp turn out of the lot.

  The van wobbled, on the edge of balance for a moment, before going over on its side.

  The passenger door, now on the top side of the vehicle, popped open and the two men inside scrambled out and bolted into the night.

  The other four who remained below began to shout and panic.

  Dalton couldn’t help but smile as West stepped into view.

  The crowning touch on the costume was Jess’s strategic omission of LED fibers in key locations on the torso.

  The result was a glow that took the form of a spectral face or skull.

  With the camouflage in action on the arms and legs, the boney face seemed to float, a haunting visage, promising justice.

  The costume proved so effective at intimidation, it had quickly earned West a nickname among the street toughs and low-lifes he’d been targeting night after night.

  Dalton heard it now, carried to his perch on the warm summer breeze as West made short work of the frightened men below.

  The Ghost.

  2

  Cordelia made her hundredth trip of the day across the plush Oriental carpet. She stepped up the two stairs into Peter’s office.

  “Excuse me, Peter,” she said as unobtrusively as she could. “The car is here for your ten o’clock with the mayor.”

  Peter sat in a high-backed, brown leather office chair at his enormous mahogany desk, gazing down at his journal. His brown hair glimmered in the light from the crystal chandelier above. He was wearing one of the practically identical imported suits he wore every day.

  Prince Charming, corporate style.

  “Thank you so much, Cordelia,” he said, giving her the benevolent eye-crinkling smile he seemed to wear all the time these days.


  Was it ungenerous of her to feel like he only smiled like that because it was good for his PR?

  West’s former best friend, Peter, now worked as a consultant, securing grants for city renovation projects and coordinating or even overseeing many of the projects himself.

  In the time since his falling out with West, Peter had made quite a name for himself in Glacier City as a humanitarian, as well as a shrewd businessman. The Glacier City Sentinel had referred to him last week as ‘one of those rare geniuses who operates with both the bottom line and the city’s best interests at heart’.

  Cordelia nodded and smiled back, and then padded back to her desk.

  Worthington Enterprises had been a study in clean modern lines and cold stone, all designed to accentuate the stark view of Glacier City below.

  But the feeling here at Peter’s office was altogether different. The old building Peter had transformed into headquarters for his consulting work was warm and traditional. Chestnut wainscoting lined the upper lobby area from floor to ceiling. The door to Peter’s private office was flanked by an archway of built-in bookshelves. Lush hand-knotted rugs covered every inch of the hardwood. Antique fixtures hung from the ceilings. And the view of the city was broken up by multi paned windows, and framed by formal window treatments.

  Cordelia’s footsteps had rung on marble floors when she worked with West, and ultimately ended up running Worthington Enterprises in his absence for a period of time.

  Here with Peter, both her footsteps and her influence were so muted as to be practically undetectable. She spent her days feeling like the invisible woman, tiptoeing back and forth to Peter’s door with messages and coffee.

  She tried to remind herself to be grateful for not just a job, but a chance to be part of an organization that was improving the city.

  But running for coffee was still just running for coffee. And managing Peter’s calendar was easier than managing West’s had been, since Peter actually followed his calendar.

  None of it felt like the exhilarating challenge of studying and lubricating the gears of a giant corporation. She missed Worthington Enterprises, for all its wild investors and failing divisions. The company had a pulse, a life of its own that seemed almost to mimic the personality of its owner.