Karma Girl

by Jennifer Estep

  Finally, we teleported back over to Quicke’s and waited. Swifte zoomed to a stop in front of us a second later.

  “Bringing up the rear, just like always,” Debonair said, smiling at the masked man.

  “Watching your back, just like always,” Swifte retorted.

  The two of them punched each other on the shoulder, shook hands, and started exchanging the latest hero-villain gossip. Swifte did most of the talking, spitting out words as fast as he could run. I guess he got around more than Debonair did. Literally.

  “Are the two of you friends?” I asked during a rare moment when Swifte stopped long enough to take a breath.

  I didn’t know much about Swifte, but I’d never heard of him being part of a superhero team before. He was a loner, like Debonair. Swifte was one of the heroes who liked to keep the spotlight fixed on himself, but the two of them acted awfully chummy. They had to be more than casual acquaintances. Did superheroes have real friends? Or maybe their relationship was more of a professional colleague kind of thing.

  “Not really,” Swifte said. “I’m just always around whenever D here gets himself into trouble.”

  “Is that often?” I asked.

  “Often enough.” The superhero looked me up and down. “So this is your main squeeze, huh, Debonair? The one you keep yammering about all the time. Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  Debonair slung his arm around my shoulders. “Not bad? Bella is gorgeous from head to toe. Anyone who says otherwise is a fool. Besides, at least I have a main squeeze. How long has it been since you’ve had a date?”

  Swifte grinned. “About two hours, if you count speed dating.”

  Debonair shook his head, then laughed.

  The way they poked fun at each other reminded me of my relationship with Johnny. I would have thought they were brothers, except I knew that Debonair, Devlin Dash, was an only child.

  “Well, folks, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a city to patrol.” Swifte gave us a salute. “Later.”

  I blinked, and he was gone. I shook my head, trying to get the world to slow back down to normal. Talking to Swifte was like living your life on permanent fast-forward.

  “Now that we’ve gotten rid of motor-mouth, I’m going to take you somewhere really special,” Debonair said. “Hold on to me, and don’t let go.”

  I was all too happy to wrap my arms around his waist, lean my head on his shoulder, and close my eyes.

  POP!

  The wind whipped my hair around my face, and I opened my eyes. We stood on top of the Skyline Bridge. The enormous suspension bridge stretched over the bay and connected one side of Bigtime to the other. The mile-high platform offered a sweeping view of the nighttime skyline. The towering skyscrapers resembled slender candles from this distance, set here and there with jeweled lights. Cars zoomed over the bridge below, their headlights winking like fireflies, while the lapping water of the bay shimmered all around us, a silver carpet at the bottom of the world.

  “It’s amazing,” I whispered.

  “Isn’t it?” Debonair said. “This is my favorite place in the entire city. I come up here a lot to get away from it all and just think.”

  Debonair snapped his fingers. Two lawn chairs appeared, along with a thick stadium blanket.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  I nodded. We sat in the chairs, scooting close together, and Debonair wrapped the blanket around us. I didn’t really need it, though. Just being near him was enough to keep me warm. We sat there, listening to the whistling wind and the hum of the cars below for a long time.

  “So what do you think of superheroes now?” Debonair asked, his voice light and hopeful.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are we all still as bad as you think we are?”

  I frowned. “Wait a minute. That’s what this is about? You’ve been teleporting me around the city because you’re hoping I’ll change my mind about dating a superhero?”

  He gave me a shy smile. “Guilty as charged. So, is it working? Being with a guy who can take you anywhere you want to go does have some perks, right?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not about having powers. That’s not why I don’t like superheroes.”

  “Then why?” Debonair asked. “What’s so terrible about being a superhero?”

  “Because where there are heroes, there are also villains. Villains who want to do bad things. Villains who hurt people. Who kill people.”

  “So, you’re afraid something will happen to me?” Debonair asked. “Bella, I can promise you—”

  “Don’t,” I snapped, my voice as cold as the solidium cables around us. “Don’t you dare promise me that you won’t get hurt. I’ve had other people make those same promises to me. And they never, ever kept them.”

  Memories of my father flooded my mind. His face. Smile. Laugh. Voice. All gone forever because he’d cared more about being Johnny Angel than he had about me and my brother.

  I suddenly couldn’t stand to be near Debonair. To be touching him. To feel him next to me. I stood up and threw off the blanket. My power flared, and the wind whistled down and tore the fabric from my fingertips. Debonair reached for it, but the blanket sailed away, floating out over the bay.

  “I’m sorry about that. I’ll buy you another blanket.” I rubbed my aching head. “I think you should take me home. Now.”

  Debonair stared at me, his eyes two pools of blue against his pale face. “All right. If that’s what you really want.”

  I nodded.

  Debonair snapped his fingers, and the chairs disappeared. Then, he put his arm around me and teleported us back to my bedroom. I stepped away from him, shrugged out of my coat, and yanked off my gloves.

  “Thank you for this evening. I had a nice time,” I said in a stiff voice.

  And I had. For a little while, I’d been able to pretend Debonair wasn’t a superhero. That he was just a guy that I liked. Instead of someone I could never be with.

  “Bella—” he started.

  “I’ve had a long day, and I’m really tired. I think you should go.”

  Debonair reached for my hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. I couldn’t stop my pulse from speeding up at his touch, but I kept my face and eyes hard.

  “As you wish,” Debonair murmured, his voice sad.

  Then—

  POP!

  He was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After a night of fitful sleep, I headed into the city to visit the art museum the next morning. Despite Bobby’s protests, I needed to get out of the house. Needed some time away to think about me and Debonair. And if we could really have a future together. Because somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d started falling for the sexy thief, blue-black leather, mask, and all.

  But before I left, I cleaned up the mess I’d made in the kitchen. It wasn’t pretty. The pasta and sauce had glued itself to the floor, and it took me twice as long to scrape it up than it would have last night. I’d almost finished when my luck turned against me, and I knocked over the bucket of water I’d used to mop up the pasta. I sighed and started all over again.

  I showered, changed into a fitted black suit, and drove my Benz into the city. Even though it was lunchtime and downtown hummed with activity, I snagged a parking spot right outside the museum, just like usual. The Bigtime Museum of Modern Art was closed for repairs, but one of the security guards waved me through.

  If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought there was another benefit planned. People scurried back and forth in the marble halls. But instead of fundraiser types, most of them were construction guys, hauling supplies over to the damaged wing. Just about everybody wore a hard hat and carried tape measures, rulers, or some other sort of tool. They chattered among themselves, shouting over the steady thwack and thump of the sledgehammers. The harsh, chemical smell of paint and plaster filled the air, burning my nose.

  I walked over to the wing that housed the museum offices. I pushed open the gl
ass door and went inside, my heels sinking into the plush carpeting. A secretary manned the information desk out front, her multiple phones jangling in time like instruments in a symphony. I waved at her and strolled down the hall to Arthur Anders’s office. I knocked on the door and cracked it open.

  Arthur sat behind his desk, talking on the phone. He waved me in and finished his conversation. Then, he rose, straightened his plaid jacket, and came around the desk. Arthur gave me a friendly hug and kissed me on both cheeks. My old professor was very continental that way.

  “Bella, how are you feeling?” Arthur gestured for me to sit down and took the chair opposite mine. “I was so glad to hear the Fearless Five rescued you. And so quickly.”

  “I’m fine. I didn’t come to any real harm. Just got shaken up a bit.” I didn’t want to talk about my ordeal, so I switched the conversation back to the thing Arthur loved best—the museum.

  “How are you holding up? How bad was the damage?”

  “Not as catastrophic as it could have been. Being the location for a superhero-ubervillain battle has long been one of my greatest fears.” Arthur took his glasses off and started polishing them with the edge of his jacket. “The roof was destroyed, along with one wall. Most of the items on display escaped major damage, though. We were extremely lucky in that regard.”

  I grimaced. There was that damn word again.

  “We should be able to reopen in a couple of days,” Arthur continued.

  “So soon?”

  He slipped his glasses back on. “People have been wonderful. Donations have poured in to pay to repair the damage, and all the local construction crews have been more than willing to help get the museum back into shape. We’ve even had some heroes come and clear out the rubble and get things back on track.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, grateful something was going to turn out right from all this messy drama.

  “What’s even more wonderful is that the Fearless Five recovered the Star Sapphire. Berkley’s agreed to let us put it back on display and continue the Whimsical Wonders exhibit—with a bit more security, of course.”

  “Of course,” I murmured.

  Arthur’s phone rang again. He moved to pick up the receiver, and I waved a silent goodbye and left his office. I’d learned what I needed to. But I still wanted to see the damage for myself, so I headed back to the new wing of the museum.

  Arthur was right. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. One of the walls was gone, probably from the force of the grenade blast. Construction workers clustered around the empty space, measuring and talking about angles and structural soundness and other building terms. All the glass and rubble and debris had already been cleaned up. The roof had been replaced, as had the many spot-and footlights. All the items that had been on display were gone, though. They wouldn’t be brought back in until they’d been cleaned and everything was pristine and secure once more.

  As I stared at the beefy workers, my thoughts wandered back to Debonair and what had happened between us last night.

  Now that I knew—or at least thought—he was Devlin Dash, things were even more complicated. He wasn’t just some guy in a sexy suit who seduced me. He was a real person, someone I knew. Or at least, thought I did.

  I thought back, trying to remember every encounter I’d had with the awkward businessman, including our dinner together the night my father had been murdered. I’d told him the truth. I couldn’t remember much of anything that had happened around the time of my father’s death. Oh, I remembered ordering the appropriate flowers, picking out a casket, making sure the newspapers printed the correct obituary. But the service itself was a blur. I’d felt that way for weeks afterward, like I was just going through the motions of life, instead of actually living it.

  From what I could recall, I hadn’t thought of it as a date. Just a dinner between two acquaintances. We’d been working late, chairing the art auction, and had stopped by Quicke’s before heading to our respective homes. I wondered why Devlin thought it had been a date. And whether he actually wanted to see me now or was just hanging around because he knew he could get lucky—

  My cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and checked the caller ID. Hannah Harmon.

  I frowned. What could she want? Despite working on the benefit, we weren’t exactly friends. We were just associates and barely that. Hannah had made noises after my father died about making a bid for Bulluci Industries. She’d retracted her offer after Grandfather had made it clear Bulluci was and always would be a family affair. Family was everything to Grandfather—and to me.

  “Hello, Hannah. How are you?” I asked in my best business voice.

  Family might be everything, but you should never burn bridges.

  “I just wanted to call and see how you were doing.” Hannah’s voice was just as smooth and professional as mine. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I heard about what happened at the museum. What a terrible tragedy.”

  “Yes, yes it was.”

  “But thank goodness you’re all right. I heard the Fearless Five rescued you from Debonair.”

  “Yes, they did. They also recovered the Star Sapphire, from what I remember.” I was purposefully vague on the details. Jasper was right. Sometimes, it was just easier to play dumb.

  “From what you remember?”

  “I took a rather nasty fall in the museum and hit my head quite hard. I don’t really remember much of what happened.” It was all part of the cover story the superheroes and I had come up with.

  “But you’re feeling better now?” Hannah asked.

  “Oh, yes. Much.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful.”

  Her expressionless voice didn’t quite match the good wishes coming out of her mouth. Then again, Hannah had never been overly charming to me. She wasn’t one for blowing smoke up people’s asses—unless she wanted something.

  “Tell me, just out of curiosity, do you know what the Fearless Five are going to do with the sapphire? I imagine Berkley’s rather anxious to get it back.”

  “Actually, I just talked with Arthur about that,” I replied. “The superheroes are going to return it to the museum so it can go back on display. They really didn’t include me in their plans. You know how the Fearless Five are. They just show up, rescue you, and leave.”

  “I see.” Hannah paused. “Well, I know you must be busy. I’ll let you go.”

  “Well, thanks for calling and for your concern—”

  She hung up before I finished. I frowned at the phone, puzzled by the call. Was Hannah hoping another death in the family would convince my grandfather to sell out? It wasn’t happening, not unless Grandfather, Johnny, Fiona, and I all died in some terrible accident at the exact same time. Even then, our wills would ensure we left the company in the proper hands—Sam Sloane’s.

  I didn’t have time to think about Hannah Harmon and her strange call. Not a moment after Hannah hung up, my phone rang again. Devlin Dash, the caller ID informed me.

  My hands tightened around the phone. I thought about not answering it. For about half a second. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Bella. It’s Devlin Dash.” His voice sounded cool and smooth over the phone. He seemed much more sure of himself when we weren’t actually talking face-to-face. Or when he was wearing a leather mask.

  “Devlin. It’s nice to hear from you.” I tried to remain as calm as possible.

  “I just wanted to call and say that Grams and I had a wonderful time last night. I’m sorry we had to cut it short.”

  I hung onto his every word, looking for hidden meanings in each and every syllable. “I’m glad the two of you enjoyed yourselves. Did Grace take care of Kelly?”

  “Oh, yes,” Devlin said. “It turned out to be something rather minor, actually.”

  “Like what?” I asked, pressing for details, hoping he’d slip up and expose himself.

  “Oh, nothing important. Kelly was just feeling a litt
le tired, that’s all.”

  “I see.”

  Silence hung between us. I dug through my purse, snagging a pencil and a stray sheet of paper I’d tucked into one of the side pockets. I sat down on a nearby bench and started sketching another portrait of Debonair. Except this time, I put Devlin Dash’s face on the body of the handsome thief. It fit perfectly, further convincing me of the superhero’s true identity.

  Devlin cleared his throat. “Anyway, I was also calling to…I was wondering…maybe…if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? For the auction?” His voice wavered with every word.

  I didn’t respond. I wanted more information before I saw Devlin—or Debonair—again. I wanted to be ready to confront him with the truth. I didn’t want our relationship to continue based on sex alone. Actually, I didn’t know if I wanted it to continue at all. In short, I needed Carmen Cole’s help before I saw him again.

  “I’m sorry, Devlin. I can’t tonight. I’m having dinner with Carmen Cole and some other friends.”

  “Oh.”

  Disappointment tinged in his voice. In a weird way, it made me happy he wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him.

  I drew in a deep breath. “But how about tomorrow night?”

  “That would be fantastic!” Devlin exclaimed. “Quicke’s at eight o’clock?”

  “I’ll see you there,” I promised.

  “Great! I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

  I thought of our encounter in the bathroom last night. The way he’d touched me. Held me. Made me cry out his name.

  “Me too,” I replied. “More than you know.”

  *

  I left the museum and headed out to Sublime, Sam Sloane’s mansion on the outskirts of the city. I pulled my Benz up to the front of the house and rang the buzzer. No one answered. I wasn’t surprised. Sam didn’t believe in having a housekeeping staff around. He thought it would be too easy for them to figure out his and the rest of the Fearless Five’s secret identities. The door was locked, but I punched in the 555 access code, and it buzzed open.