by C. C. Ekeke
That wiped the confidence off Monty’s face.
Missy grew annoyed by the pause in Quinn’s departure. “Who’s Damián Hazard?” she asked.
Montgomery ignored her, turning grey. “How do you know that name?”
Quinn grinned as Montgomery’s resolve crumbled. “I know about Solstice Equity. And Laura Tarsitano from Paxton-Brandt,” she continued. “I know Ivan Oshiro bails out Missy’s opponents and makes them vanish. I know how Solstice owns every Junction business sponsoring Missy’s profile.”
Missy now looked more confused than angry. “What’s she talking about?”
Montgomery’s glare turned murderous. “Shut your mouth.”
Quinn spread her arms, challenging him to try. “Your buddy Damián wants to rebuild the Junction into a crime haven.”
Montgomery lunged at her. “Shut UP!”
Missy anxiously dragged him backward. “Monty. That’s not true, right?”
Montgomery was too shaken to reply. His eyes gleamed with hatred and fear. Of Damián Hazard.
“Monty,” Missy repeated more firmly, forcing Montgomery Major to face her. “Deny it!”
“He can’t,” Quinn confirmed.
Montgomery opened his mouth, trembling. He reached to stroke Missy’s face. “I can explain…”
Missy clapped a hand over her horrified mouth. “Oh my God.” The reaction was bittersweet, as another person in Missy’s life had betrayed her.
Missy backed away, eyes alight with such heartbreak it hurt Quinn to watch. “You and your Hazard friend,” she sobbed, “are going to kill everyone in the Junction? Why?”
“Missy! You’re acting childish.” Montgomery reached for his wife to pull her close, like the property he saw her as. “Calm down.”
“Don’t touch me!” Missy shoved Monty off, knocking him on his butt. “How could you?” she shrieked.
Quinn didn’t like how quickly things had spiraled. Missy needed to be far away from her husband before a line got crossed. “Missy. Come with me.” She held her hand out. “We need to tell the police.”
“No!” Montgomery lurched to his feet, grabbing Missy’s face like he owned it. “Don’t walk away from this. Remember when we first met? When you were in rehab?”
“He targeted you in rehab, Missy. Manipulated you,” Quinn yelled. “Your whole relationship is a lie.”
“Don’t listen to that lying bitch,” Montgomery ordered his flabbergasted wife, eyes for her only. “In rehab, you told me you wanted to save lives. But the world turned on you. Laughed at you. Like me. That’s why we clicked.
“The Junction’s demise is our chance to become San Miguel’s heroes,” Montgomery pressed, like he actually loved Missy. No wonder he’d sucked her in. “You and me against the world.”
“Missy,” Quinn refuted. “You know this is wrong. Once this comes to light and you willingly partook, your career is over.” Her inner cynic wanted to see the worst in Missy, which was what everyone else would do. She chose to believe in Missy’s inner good, reaching for her. “Now come with me.”
A sad little smile filled Missy’s face. She took Monty's hands into her own. “You’re right,” she whispered shakily. “I don’t wanna be a punchline anymore. I want little girls to look up to me again.”
Disappointment struck Quinn with staggering force. She let her hand drop.
Missy sniffled, turning to Quinn. “But I won’t take shortcuts.” She caught a startled Montgomery by the collar, hoisting him off his feet. Her eyes burned. “You’re not hurting anyone in the Junction.”
That pleased Quinn so much, she almost cartwheeled. But time wasn’t on their side. She marched forward to separate Missy from her husband. “Missy, let’s go—LOOK OUT!”
Montgomery whipped something from his jacket, slamming it into Missy’s throat.
Her body went ramrod straight, eyes bulging as if she’d choked on food. Missy collapsed to the floor and convulsed, staring at nothing.
Quinn watched in horror as Montgomery stood over his wife, a Taser in his grip crackling. “Then you’re part of the world I am against,” he snarled.
With Missy down, Quinn knew the danger she was in. If that device could take down someone with Missy’s durability, Quinn panicked at the damage that could do to her. She backtracked to the door.
Montgomery whipped around on her with frightening quickness. “You ruined everything, bitch.” He pounced, stabbing his Taser at Quinn’s chest.
Despite surging fear, she reacted just like Geist and Therese had taught.
She darted aside, and Montgomery angrily charged at nothing. Quinn came from the left, driving a hard knee to the stomach, doubling Montgomery over. Then she slammed her elbow into the back of his neck with all her strength. Montgomery’s limbs splayed out awkwardly before he faceplanted.
Quinn aimed a flurry of kicks to Montgomery’s stomach. That kept him down.
“I’ll take ‘bitch’ as a compliment.” She snatched away the Taser and scurried over to Missy. The superhero lay motionless on the floor, eyes rolled back.
“Missy?” Quinn shook her. The superhero was out like a light. Anger washed over Quinn as she stared at the Taser in her hands. She turned ferociously to jab Montgomery with his weapon. Only for fingers to wrap around her throat.
Quinn suddenly found herself high off the floor, barely able to inhale with the iron grip choking her out. Staring up at her was a man with sculpted, handsome features. His mouth was a grim slash of disdain, cold grey eyes vacant. The eyes of a killer.
He was clean-cut, with short brown hair, his three-piece navy-blue suit undeniably custom-made. Despite her oxygen-deprived state, Quinn recognized him from Therese’s photos.
Damián Hazard.
Quinn jabbed the Taser at his face. Hazard slapped the device from her fingers effortlessly.
“Forgive my abruptness,” he said, his mid-Atlantic accent calm and refined. “But if anyone will physically reprimand Montgomery, it is myself.”
Hazard turned his icy gaze down on Montgomery, who struggled up to a knee. “You said this journalist would be an unwitting asset. Yet she somehow has learned my name and our plans.” The subtle disappointment in Hazard’s voice made it much more chilling. “I will not stomach such a liability.” He turned his attention back on Quinn, whose lungs burned from lacking oxygen. “It will truly be a shame to watch the life drain from that face, attractive as it may be.”
Quinn shivered, knowing she was about to die even as her consciousness faded. A glance at Missy’s motionless form confirmed that. Quinn cursed herself for not texting Hugo. Dark spots bubbled into her vision as she caught Montgomery reaching to Hazard beseechingly.
“Please, Mr. Hazard,” he begged. “Don’t kill Bauer in my home!”
Don’t kill me anywhere, she tried saying. But between Hazard’s chokehold and her oxygen-starved brain, Quinn only made an objecting moan.
Mild offense barely rippled through Hazard. “Do you consider me a savage?” The threat of a smile graced the well-dressed man’s face. “I know exactly where to dispose of our problematic journalist.”
Quinn never heard the location, because Hazard was squeezing her throat tighter. Numbing darkness soon washed over her head. And she never resurfaced.
Chapter 43
“Ooooh, lasagna,” Hugo groaned, crouching on the sidewalk and clutching his blissfully stuffed belly.
The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind. Mister Quiet, aka Mr. Proctor, had been stopped and the kidnapped students rescued. SLOCO Daily revealed an exclusive view into Mr. Proctor’s twisted mind plus glimpses of his underground lair. Hugo had no interest in a closer look at Mr. Proctor. Then there was the guilt over not feeling guilty for his actions.
“You did the right thing,” Simon, Mom, and Ms. Ortiz had said after he’d told each one.
Hugo knew that. Then why wouldn’t this non-guilty guilt go away?
Articles on various news sites spoke of the mysterious hero who’d
rescued the students and stopped Mr. Proctor. Some guessed it was an Elite member. Others guessed the Tomorrow Man, whose issued statement neither confirmed nor denied his involvement. Hugo wasn’t surprised by that thirsty famewhore trying to steal credit. “At least no one suspects me."
Hugo forced himself upright, just coming from Brent’s wine country mansion. The visit had been half-altruistic, half fact-finding. Brent had discussed his ordeal, including his savior. When he’d confessed to not recognizing the hero, Hugo was relieved.
Despite getting kidnapped yesterday, Brent brushed off Hugo’s concerns. “Bro, I’m alive. That psycho teacher’s cancelled. And I’m hanging with one of my best friends.”
Infectious optimism wasn’t the only thing Brent had inherited from his blond, athletic, and beautiful parents. The Longwells, both who resembled Vikings, had insisted Hugo stay for lunch.
“I tried Brent after your call,” Mrs. Longwell had stated, clasping her son’s forearm affectionately. “When he didn’t answer, I called the police. Thanks to you! Lunch is the least we can do.”
Lunch included the most scrumptious lasagna Hugo had eaten ever. The Longwells would’ve fed him dinner if he hadn’t excused himself, hence why Hugo could barely superspeed let alone walk home.
Studying the burnt coppery skies, he had an hour and a half before tonight’s dance competition. Hugo planned on attending to support his Fab Phenoms crew, then do a night patrol afterward.
His pocket vibrated urgently. Fishing out his regular cell, he beamed at the caller ID. “Hey, Jodie.” Hugo had been meaning to call. “Did you and Brie hang at the party?” He wanted them to be friends again. Even Briseis deserved a ride-or-die BFF.
“Didn’t go,” Jordana retorted almost rudely. From what Hugo heard in the background, she wasn’t alone.
He frowned. “That sucks.” Hugo changed the subject. “I just saw Brent. You visit him today?” Brent had mentioned Jodie stopping over. Nothing more.
“This morning,” Jodie dismissed. “Come over.”
Hugo stiffened. His mind danced with chilling possibilities. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes. I’ll text my address.”
Despite his rising worries, Hugo decided to indulge her request. “Okay.”
He waited fifteen minutes before superspeeding to Jordana’s home in southern Paso Robles, a gorgeous stuccoed house. When he slowed and approached normally, Hugo sensed seven heartbeats. Was one of them Brie? The door opened after one ring. Hugo faced a stout, dark-skinned man, mid-forties, with a full head of salt-and-pepper curls. Mr. Buchanan had a meaty handshake. His cheery face was somewhat familiar besides being Jordana’s dad. “Glad to finally meet you, Bogota. Heard you’re some kind of hero.”
Hugo gave a nervous laugh as Mr. Buchanan motioned him inside. “Not really.” His superhearing detected Mrs. Buchanan in the study while Jodie’s brothers played the Gods of Vengeance videogame in the living room. “Is Jordana upstairs?”
The elder Buchanan nodded. “With one of her girlfriends. She’s a popular girl.”
Hugo fought to keep smiling. “Okay.” He headed upstairs to the room Mr. Buchanan had directed. He heard Jodie conversing with someone familiar. Not Brie. Another relief. So why was she here?
After he knocked, the door opened to reveal Jordana in a Mets tee and grey sweatpants, curly hair in a ponytail.
“Hi,” Hugo gave her a hug. His gaze raked over Jordana’s guest. “Hello," he greeted in a stiff voice.
Jennifer Thomas sat on Jordana’s bed, freckles standing out on pale flesh. The lanky girl wore jeans and an off-the-shoulder black tee, her wavy ginger bob pulled back. She offered a feeble wave. “Hi, Hugo.”
“What’s this?” Hugo asked, still guarded after Jodie closed the door.
“Tell him,” she ordered her friend.
J-Tom closed her eyes briefly, then spoke. “Brie’s party invite was a setup.”
Hugo narrowed his eyes, more confused. “A setup for what?”
“Natalie and Spencer getting Jodie drunk. Then Lia taking pictures to look like Jodie hooked up with random guys,” J-Tom blurted out. “Posting them on IG and Snapchat.”
Hugo heard but couldn’t believe. “What?”
Jodie seemed more hurt than mad. “But J-Tom texted me to avoid the party after Spencer warned her.”
Hugo clutched his skull, unable to draw breath. Thank God for Spencer. He knew Brie could be cruel, but this was next-level dark-sided. “Why?”
“Because…” J-Tom exhaled shakily. “Brie’s the Devil.”
Jordana’s mom called her from downstairs in Spanish.
She grimaced. “Be right back.” She scurried from the bedroom, leaving Hugo with J-Tom.
He sat beside her. They didn’t know each other well outside the Brie and Jodie connection. But awkward conversation beat awkward silence. “You okay?” Hugo inquired.
J-Tom watched him with such probing intensity, Hugo shifted uneasily in his seat.
She turned away, shaking her head. “I don’t recognize Brie anymore. She’s become such a bully. I confronted her after hearing what she almost did to Jodie. Brie loses her shit, calls me disloyal and inauthentic—” J-Tom caught herself. “I cursed her out and left the basketball party.”
Hugo wrinkled his nose, stuck on J-Tom’s words. “Why did Brie call you inauthentic?”
J-Tom clammed up and stood. “It’s nothing.”
“You dating Spencer isn’t nothing,” Hugo countered.
J-Tom’s head turned neck-breakingly fast, eyes bulging like she’d swallowed a lemon.
Hugo had to laugh. “At Fall Fling, you and Spencer didn't have dates, danced mostly with each other. You looked like a couple.” Half-true. At Fall Fling, Hugo had been sprinting down dark hallways to rescue Presley. He also had caught Spencer and J-Tom devouring each other, oblivious to everything.
He raised a hand to calm J-Tom’s clear horror. “I’ve told no one.”
She eventually relaxed. “Surprised you noticed anything the way you and that punk rock girl were dancing.” Both teens laughed.
Jen sat beside him. “I like boys. But Spence was so upset the day Titan died. The next day, I’m consoling her and…shit just happened. And keeps happening…” J-Tom looked and sounded woozy.
Hugo felt for her. “Brie knew?”
“From day one.” J-Tom gave a ragged sigh. “Thought I could trust her. But after last night, I’m done.”
Hugo still couldn’t understand Brie’s scheme to falsely slut-shame her best friend. Why?
Downstairs, Jordana and her mom bickered in Spanish. So Hugo continued engaging J-Tom. “You like Spencer Michelman? On purpose?” Hypocrite…
J-Tom giggled. “Spence is...challenging. But it’s out of self-preservation. Like why she sleeps with her boytoy randoms. Once she lets you in,” Jenn gushed, “it’s amazing.”
Hugo gulped, already knowing this but held his tongue.
J-Tom rubbed the back of her neck. “But when I want more than lowkey hookups, she shuts down. Then comes back hot and heavy, sucking me back in…” She exhaled. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
Sounds like Spencer… “Listen, Jennifer.” Hugo leaned close, holding J-Tom’s gaze. “Tomorrow’s not promised.” Hugo recalled failing to save his classmates, Violet and Paul. His chest throbbed with shame. “Choose whoever chooses you. Girl or guy.” That lesson had taken years to sink into Hugo.
“Can I ask you something?” Jen murmured.
“Sure.”
“Brie tried to hurt Jodie and you.” Her stare probed deep again. “Why’s she so obsessed with you?”
Hugo went cold all over. I hurt Brie. He noticed how close they’d moved to each other, both drawn by this new potential friendship.
Hearing Jodie plodding upstairs, Hugo withdrew. J-Tom blinked, snapping out of her glassy-eyed trance as the door reopened.
“Sorry. Mom needed computer help,” Jodie apologized, entering. “Gen-Xers are so tech ignorant.”<
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Hugo glanced at his cellphone clock and the window. The sun had almost disappeared. “I gotta go. Dance competition to support.”
“Movie night at home,” J-Tom added, turning to Hugo. “Thanks for…you know.”
He offered a hand. J-Tom bearhugged him. “I’m a hugger. Deal with it.”
Hugo laughed and returned her embrace.
When J-Tom exchanged farewells with Jodie, their unspoken eye discussion promised a later chat. Hugo couldn’t stomach the idea that Brie tried hurting these two. He was disgusted…and over her.
“I know what you did,” Jordana declared after J-Tom left. They stood outside her house.
Hugo turned to her in slight dread. “That’s a loaded sentence.”
“Having Brent take me to the basketball party.” Jodie moved into his personal space, eye-fucking the daylights out of him. “I told Brent this morning that I liked someone else.”
“Oh…” Well, this complicates things… Hugo ached to stay with Jodie, hold and kiss her. But he’d promised his dance crew he’d attend their competition. Unless… “Come with me to the dance competition.”
Jordana’s reaction was incredulous. “I’m not dressed up.”
Hugo shrugged. “I’ll wait. My dad always said if life gives you problems, dance it out.”
Jordana laughed. “Gimme twenty minutes.”
Forty-five minutes later, they left in Jordana’s car. The wait was worth it: skintight little black dress, teased up-down hairdo, gold hoop earrings. A twelve on the Rihanna scale.
“En fuego,” Hugo murmured. Jodie gave him a glowing look.
Is this a date? Whatever, Hugo just wanted to enjoy her.
The competition was at SLO 805 in San Miguel’s warehouse district. The entry line wrapped around the block. “The competition will be over by the time we enter,” Jordana complained.
“Relax,” Hugo assured. As expected, he was on the list. Hugo gave Jordana a told ya smirk. She rolled her eyes and smiled as he led her by the hand past the long, salty line.
The Phenoms, wearing jean jackets and pants combo, weren’t in great spirits backstage. Everyone lit up when Hugo arrived.