The Supers of Project 12: The Complete Superhero Series

by Angel Lawson

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Quinn

  She’s wearing gloves so it’s not a big deal, but still…the feeling of her hand in his, covered or not, is nice. Warm. But it’s not just her touch that has Quinn flustered, and he is…flustered in the kind of way that no one would ever know it.

  Why? He thinks about it as he walks in step with her while still allowing her to lead. Mostly it’s the way Astrid changed the instant she put on that Super Suit. He’s not sure if it’s because it was made specifically for her, or if Atticus had some insight he wasn’t aware of, but everything about her got a boost and he’s not just thinking about how her breasts look perfect zipped under that leather.

  No, he’s thinking about her attitude and demeanor. She’s always strong and fairly confident, but in the suit she seems more relaxed, more at ease, and he’s terrified he’ll do something or say something to run that version of her off.

  But so far she hasn’t. And not only that, she’s holding his hand and her hip brushes into his on every third step. This is the same woman that told him off last night for inching too close on the couch. The woman who revealed her heartbreak with her first love. He must tread carefully with this woman.

  They’ve walked for blocks, but Astrid finally turns down a wet alley. Tucked between the buildings is a skinny water tower. Eight feet off the ground hangs a ladder.

  “Give me a boost?” she asks.

  Quinn reluctantly drops her hand and she steps back to get a running start. He bends, cupping his hand, and she runs toward him, lifting her foot off the ground, into the air. She flies gracefully, catching the bottom rung with her fingers. The ladder slides down quickly with a clang.

  Without thinking Quinn has reached for her, her hips. His hands cup her backside, helping her slow down. She looks over her shoulder at him and he drops his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  He expects her to run—bolt. Maybe slap him across the face, but she just hoists herself up, rung after rung to the top. With a leaping jump of his own he follows, close on her heels. A different kind of adrenaline pumps when he gets to the landing. Something clearer. Pure. The air is crisp, smelling of fall. He looks out on the city, lights bright, including shadows of red and blue from the robbery earlier. He glances at Astrid, who is looking into the horizon.

  “The gym is over there, on the sliver between the Swamp and downtown.” She points to the harbor and draws a line with her finger, landing on her building. “They call that strip the Harbor Line. It’s an old trolley line that split the city. Caused an economic divide, splitting off the older houses and diverse community from the rest of the town. Now it’s the marker of change. Developers are revitalizing the line with expensive houses and condos. I ran down one of the exercise trails the other day. I counted three yoga studios, four yogurt shops, and two craft breweries.”

  “Hipster’s paradise,” he says.

  “Basically, yeah. It’s causing tensions. I hate it for the people down in the Swamp. It’s making them desperate to see the line that separated them decades ago get bigger, wider. It’s why there’s been an uptick in crime.”

  He looks out over the area she describes and the blinking lights of boats in the harbor. “Makes sense.”

  “Atticus used to send me on runs—like jogging runs. At first I thought he was punishing me, but after a while I think he just wanted me out of the gym—away from the sweat and flow of testosterone. The runs calmed me, especially after my breakup with Jay. I’d plug in my music and shut out everything else but the beat of my feet along with the music. I’d set my pace. Music, feet, breathing and get into a rhythm. I learned the whole town. Every inch of the city. One of those places was here.”

  He listens, hanging on every word. There’s something soothing about her voice and he doesn’t notice until she’s already taken off the gloves. She holds her hands up, letting the breeze blow through them. “Up here it was quiet. Just the wind and the muffled sound of the streets below. No people. No heartbeats or footsteps. Just quiet.”

  Quinn doesn’t move, not an inch, when Astrid shifts to stand in front of him. He keeps his hands to his sides, waiting. Watching. With her bare hands she touches his chest, palms flat.

  “That night in the alley, when you grabbed my hands, I thought my world had stopped. I’ve spent my whole life, from the day I touched Owen on Miss Rosalie’s back porch and saw the terrible, horrible secrets people can carry, trying to keep my hands to myself. Gloves, mittens, pockets…anything to keep the echo away. I hate it. I hate the way it feels. Only the bad rises to the top.”

  He wants to touch her, so badly, to the point he thinks he may go mad. He balls his fists, swallows.

  She closes her eyes and spreads her fingers over his heart. After a moment she taps out a beat. His beat. “That whole time we were at the Quick-Mart you never flinched. Your heart rate stayed steady, did you know that?”

  “No.”

  “You had complete control over your body. But right now it’s fluttering like a hummingbird.”

  His cheeks heat with the revelation and the scent of vanilla grows. “Seems you get a rise out of me.”

  “Is that so?” She drops her hands, grazing the tips of her fingers against his. As if that wasn’t enough she continues, suddenly taking his right hand and laying it over the leather on her chest.

  “You can’t feel it, not the same, but mine is racing too.” She tilts her head and looks at him. They’re both still wearing masks—clad in costumes that disguise their true identities, but the words coming from her mouth are a revelation of truth. “The thought of being near someone I can’t read…it’s terrifying.”

  Quinn laughs, he can’t help it, and he takes the chance of resting his hand on top of hers and wrapping his fingers around hers. “Welcome to the world the rest of us live in, Astrid.”

  She thinks about this. “In that world, the one where you don’t know what the other person is thinking, or feeling, what would you do next?”

  His eyes dart to her lips. And his left hand hovers over her hip. “You sure you want the answer to that question?”

  She nods.

  He closes the gap, dropping his hand to her waist, and his mouth lingers a breath away. “I’d kiss her,” he says, giving her one last out, because they’re heading down a road he’s certain they can’t return from. Her eyes flutter shut, and the first taste is electric—not his kind—but the emotional sort. Her lips are soft, her body close. He can’t hear her heartbeat, not the way she can hear his, but he has no doubt that she feels it as much as he does. The hormonal kind, and when she kisses him back he knows he’s right.

  There’s no turning back from here.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Astrid

  That kiss barrels toward her like a freight train. It’s something she had only read about or seen on TV. It’s different than the first kiss they’d shared. That one was about adrenaline. This one is something else. Like a cliché, she tries to hold herself upright when her knees wobble. She tries not to struggle for air when her breath catches when she tastes the warm seduction of his tongue.

  Her senses soar toward overload, the loudest is the pounding of his heartbeat like a warrior’s drum. Even though she can’t read him with her hands she can hear that, she can smell his desire, and taste the hunger of his mouth. And that’s not all. No, her senses take in everything. The needy groan in the back of his throat. The stretch of leather where she can feel him just below her belly where their bodies meet.

  Damn, so this is what it’s like with only the good stuff. She’s seriously been missing out.

  Quinn’s lips are soft but his kisses grow hard and just when she’s ready to go all in, he stops.

  “Is this okay?” he asks, pulling away but not letting go. His hands clench around her waist. She likes the feel of the weight, of his touch, more than she ever expected.

  “Definitely.”

  He brushes back her hair and the simple act sends chills down her spine. She ha
dn’t realized how isolated she’d become from others’ touch until this moment. “I don’t want to impose or push. Or be a jerk. I definitely do not want that.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Because,” he rambles, “I know this is new and sudden and we barely know one another and I’m not just some kind of asshat who makes a play at every beautiful woman I meet…”

  Ignoring the heat in her cheeks from the compliment, Astrid holds her fingers to his lips. It’s cold up here but they’re warm from kissing. “It’s fine,” she tells him. “Really, really nice.”

  He tilts his head and a wide smile spreads across his face, and she’s pretty sure that any woman he met would gladly want to know him more. A lot more. She doesn’t give him a chance to speak—she just wants to feel him again. She licks her lips and lifts her chin and up above the lights of Crescent City, for the first time in a long, long, time, Astrid stops thinking and relishes feeling.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Astrid

  Loss isn’t new.

  Astrid has experienced it many times now. Her parents’ tragic death. The explosion at the home that snatched away the children and Miss Rosalie. From that moment, Atticus, along with Harry Styles, had been her constant.

  Saying goodbye is harder than she expects. The dirt is raw and dark. The scent fills her nostrils and she doesn’t want this to be her memory. Atticus smelled like pine. His energy had been nothing but supportive and hopeful. When they lower his coffin into the ground, she averts her gaze, only to catch the soft concern of sapphire blue eyes waiting and watching.

  A different ache fills her chest, knowing that there’s one thing in common with the loss in her life. There’s no denying it when the first shovel of dirt lands on the wooden box.

  It’s not until after the final guests have left the grave site--former colleagues, trainers at the gym and an endless stream of clients--that Astrid takes her first real breath of the day.

  Jensen lingers near the car, a cigarette between his fingers.

  “Any news?” she asks him, but she knows that he’d tell her if there was an update.

  “No.” He takes a final suck and exhales, dropping the butt on the ground and smashing it with his foot. He looks over at Quinn questioningly.

  “This is Quinn McCrae. He’s a new trainer with the program. His father and Atticus were old friends.”

  Jensen pushes a hand through his graying hair. Thin lines tug at his eyes. He looks like he needs a million-year nap. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”

  Quinn nods. “Same.”

  With another unsure glance at Quinn, Jensen finally says, “There was nothing usable at the crime scene. No prints. No evidence. Are you sure you didn’t hear anything on the com?”

  “No. We got disconnected earlier. I didn’t know anything until I saw it myself.” Astrid slides her hands into her coat pockets. “I just don’t know how someone got the jump on him. Atticus always played it safe.”

  “Maybe whatever disconnected your communication messed up the rest of his security, too. I wasn’t able to find a recorder in the vehicle.”

  Astrid knew this wasn’t true. She’d been the one to shut him out, but it does get her thinking. “Maybe,” she lies. “If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”

  Jensen nods, looking like he wants to say something else—anything to make this better—but they both know it’s not possible.

  “And the program?” he asks. Atticus’ Elite Training Program was privately run and her name is on it as well. The contract between the gym and the feds is still valid.

  “I plan on keeping it,” she says. “I’ve got a good team and a slate of candidates in process. I should have final rankings in the next week or so.”

  “Sounds good.” Astrid is relieved when he adds, “I’ll be in touch,” and finally walks away, leaving her alone with Quinn.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks as Jensen’s car drives away.

  “Yep. Time to get back to the Lair.”

  *

  “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.” The garage lights up when she flips the switch by the door. “I was just so distracted by…everything, you know?”

  Atticus did have security for everything. The house, the gym and his vehicles; especially the van that they took on missions. Jensen’s team had gone over it carefully and returned it a few days ago. Astrid had Quinn drive it into the garage and she’d forgotten about it, overwhelmed by running the gym, planning a funeral, and getting used to having a partner.

  “It’s been a busy week.” Quinn opens the sliding door. A wave of noxious odor rolls out. “It’s okay to let a few things slip by.”

  Is it, though? The blood stains on the front seat tell a different story. As the body count surrounding Astrid grows, she’s not so sure, and when Quinn brushes past her leaving a wake of heat, she feels the warring conflict of her mind over her body. He squats in the van and looks at the blood on the floor and then back up at her.

  “Why don’t you let me do this?” he says. “You go take a break. A nap, whatever.”

  Normally she’d fight, but the coppery scent is more than she can handle. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

  “Good idea.”

  She heads straight for the back door and out into the sunny but cool afternoon light. Atticus believed in the power of fitness and health, much like Quinn. He loathed her soda addiction, but since that and being a huge slob were her only vices, he let it slide. Astrid chokes back a sob, knowing her life is irrevocably changed and today is just the first day of a new adventure.

  Even with Quinn in her life and the hope that some of the other Project 12 members survived, she feels utterly alone.

  She walks down the sidewalk, into the park connected to the University. It’s a fabulous greenspace tucked in the hustle of her urban city. The cement road fades into a gravel path and Astrid heads toward the lake.

  She stops near a cluster of rocks and sits down, eyes scanning the water. Movement, brown on spindly legs, catches her attention. Two deer wade through the marshy edge across the small lake, nibbling at the grass.

  Footsteps catch her attention, along with the scent of fall leaves and bonfire. Astrid doesn’t move but feels the person standing close to her.

  “Oh good, I got here in time,” the guy says, and she glances over. She can only see the sharp line of his profile peeking out from the edge of an oversized hat with flaps that cover his ears. His hands are stuffed in the front pouch of his brown and green-striped hoodie.

  She looks back at the deer and is surprised to see a third wobble through the grass. A fawn, brown with a hint of white under its neck.

  “Look,” she says, without thinking. The tiny bit of nature in the middle of a sprawling city brings out a bit of glee.

  “It’s wild, isn’t it? I try to catch them when I can. Late afternoon is best.” A grin plays on his mouth and his energy is infectious. “There are birds in the lake too. Egret and geese pass through. Turtles. Seeing all these animals just living amongst us is epic. You’d never know with the buildings and parking garages and constant construction.”

  “They’re survivors.”

  He looks over and they make brief eye contact. His smile widens, revealing straight, white teeth and a dimple on his cheek. “They really are. Not only that, they just refuse to be put down, you know? They adapt. They learn new ways to find food, to build their homes.”

  “Yeah,” she agrees, watching them pick through the water, the adults keeping an eye on the fawn. “It’s pretty cool.”

  The trio of deer round the bend of the lake and vanish into the trees. The sun hits the top of the trees. It’s getting darker earlier now and Astrid knows she should get back before Quinn worries about her. She smiles at the thought. She still has someone looking out for her—worrying about her. Standing, she nods at the man who still has his eyes trained across the lake, like he’s hoping to catch another gl
impse.

  “Have a good night,” she says, passing him on her way back to the path.

  “You too.” She’s started walking toward the park entrance when he adds, “Keep surviving.”

  It’s an odd thing to say, but before she can stop herself she replies back, “You too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Quinn

  The recording device is carefully hidden beneath the lining of the van’s roof. Quinn uses his ability to locate electrical currents. It would be easy to miss, even using technology. He can actually feel the current vibrating under the fabric and hones in on a unique and unusual spot between the two front seats.

  He removes it with a knife, splitting the canvas and fishing out the small battery-powered rectangle. With the press of a button, a small USB connector appears. He checks the rest of the van, sliding his hands over every surface, but comes up empty except for the cameras.

  “I found it,” he tells Astrid back in the Lair. Her cheeks have a little color now. “Feel any better?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  They sit side by side in front of the computer. Quinn plugs in the connector and boots up the program. Astrid jabs him with an elbow. “Thank god for those years of you being a nerd camp instructor, am I right?”

  He smiles, the one he’s learned she likes, and replies smoothly, “Deflowering virgins wasn’t the only skill I gained that summer.”

  Her cheeks turn pink and he turns back to the computer, knowing not to push it too far. Quinn likes flirting with her. A lot. And after that kiss on the water tower, he’s hoping for more. When the timing is right, he may go for it. But most of all he’s just happy to have a partner and friend in the middle of this epic shit-storm.

  A video appears, splitting the screen. Two cameras were mounted in different places. Quinn had found those, too. One in the steering wheel and another mounted on the side of the car, under the door handle.

  The footage is in black and white with no sound. It starts with a flicker, after Atticus parked the car by the river that night. Astrid gets out of the car and Quinn moves to the front seat. The camera catches Astrid’s lower body as she walks away from the car to meet Jensen.