Greed: A Superhero Romance (The Deadly Seven Book 2)

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Two levels of air whooshed by before Griffin’s boots slammed into the pavement. He tucked and rolled automatically to lessen the impact. In a fluid motion, he found his feet, checked his hold on the metal orbs and hurtled them at the heads of two gun-toting men swinging their weapons his way.

  They had no chance.

  The smoke bombs orbited their heads, struck temples, and then went onto the next. Round and round the little silver orbs went, one by one knocking men out like a brutal tornado. It all happened in the space of seconds and then he was creeping into the warehouse, signaling for Evan to follow.

  The instant he got inside, his heart stopped.

  Lilo stood at the middle of the open space with a dead body at her feet. To her right, Doppenger pointed a gun at her head—once again dressed as Greed. To her left, a cluster of men drew their weapons.

  She was going to get caught in the crossfire.

  Before his mind registered his movement, he pushed forward with an almighty grunt. His legs surged, his arms pumped. Had to get to Lilo.

  Still a few feet away, the first shot was fired. And the second. And the third. And then a rapid percussion surrounded them, almost throwing his senses into hyper-drive and shutting him down.

  But he forced the panic away. He threw his ability out to surround them with a magnetic net. Still running, he skidded to a halt in front of Lilo, enveloped her, and turned his back to the majority of the peppered bullets, just in case. Sound continued to jackhammer the atmosphere in a firework finale of explosion, but his ability remained strong as metal projectiles headed their way. Sweat beaded at his temples, but he held, catching each bullet in his net. The rushing roar begged him to travel back in time to when he was on tour, back when he was tortured. For Lilo’s sake, he stayed present. He couldn’t afford to slip into the past. Not now.

  Beyond her shoulder, the imposter’s eyes widened over his face scarf with the realization of what Griffin was doing. In slow motion, Griffin watched him shift the angle of his gun from the mob behind Griffin to point at the back of Lilo’s trembling head.

  Doppenger fired until the magazine clicked empty. Within seconds, the mob also ended their shooting. A wall of floating bullets separated them on all sides. He let go of Lilo and all the greed in the room seeped back in, allowing him to supernaturally reengage his opponents’ position. Four with the mob, some approaching from outside, and still one in front of him, the slimiest sense of all, Doppenger.

  “Legendary,” came Evan’s voice over the comms. “My turn.”

  A black shadow flashed at the corner of Griffin’s vision as Evan raced in. He skidded to his knees across a puddle where two of the mob stood, took hold of a leg on each man, and let rip a blue flash of arcing power. The electricity fried their nervous systems, and they dropped. Evan was up before they hit the ground, moving on to the next two.

  That was Griffin’s cue. He sidestepped Lilo, ran toward the imposter, planted his bo-staff on the ground and vaulted feet first to hit the man’s chest, propelling him into a pile of wooden crates.

  He prowled up to the writhing body and scrutinized the man, feeling his temper rise. His bo-staff clattered to the ground as he picked Doppenger up by the scruff and punched him in the face. And again. And again. Doppenger’s head snapped back each time. He punched until a wet feeling bled through his face mask to coat Griffin’s fist. Somewhere far away in his mind, he knew he should stop. He knew Doppenger was just a greedy man playing superhero dress ups, that he couldn’t help his addiction, but he’d threatened Lilo. He’d tried to kill her.

  Griffin wanted him to pay, and his red, uncontrolled rage wanted to keep hitting.

  But movement niggled in his periphery. More sin. More greed. He shoved Doppenger’s limp body back into the crates and whirled to survey the warehouse.

  More people were coming in. Some looked like homeless people, others were fallen soldiers from the alley.

  “What is this, a free for all?” Evan’s voice came over his ear-comms.

  A groan behind him.

  Doppenger tried to rise, so Griffin side-kicked him.

  Stay down.

  But he kept rising, twisting, fighting back. Unnaturally so. For a sheer second of doubt, Griffin considered the man behind the mask wasn’t Doppenger, but his greed signature was identical.

  Lilo’s yelp drew his attention.

  She stabbed her cattle prod into one of the hoboes approaching her, then in a slick move he didn’t think she had, she sideswiped a man’s knee, and went straight for his throat, in a punch that took no quarter.

  Griffin hesitated, impressed. The imposter took advantage of his distraction, got hold of his staff, and swung it against Griffin’s head. Pain exploded at his temple and he staggered back.

  Panic compounded in his body as sounds in the room amplified, and the tactile sensations he’d stifled roared to the surface. It was all too much. He had to protect Lilo. Had to get out of there.

  With too many variables, he had only one option. Deploy the smoke bombs.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lilo couldn’t believe it. The hobo who’d tried to steal her jacket from the woman and baby had come after her! And he brought friends.

  Of all the nerve and greedy cheek, to attack her after she’d already been attacked, and while a battle still took place. Years of weekly self-defense training kicked in, and her body moved on instinct. She rounded on the men coming her way and released the cattle prod’s fury. One went down, seizing and urinating his pants. The second came after her with a knee to her stomach, but she’d practiced that scenario many times. She deflected with a window-washer swipe, stepped in and went for his soft spots—punch to the throat, kick to the junk, fingers to the eyes and then… and then…

  She looked around. Where was the smoke coming from?

  White cloud surrounded her, creating a screen that blocked her vision. She stilled. With her sight compromised, the sounds grew louder, echoing around her. Men grunting, hitting, fighting and echoing off the walls. A man screamed. Oh God. That was closer than she thought.

  Lilo’s heart rate picked up, and her nerves sparked, wanting to breathe faster, but she choked. She covered her mouth with her sleeve. The chemicals made her eyes water.

  Someone yanked her. She tumbled to the side, tripped, and fell into powerful leather clad arms. Horror seized her as she looked into the face of one of the Deadly Seven.

  Blue face mask.

  She’d seen two of them fighting. Two Greeds. One good, one evil. Which one was this?

  Holy mother of mercy.

  With barely time to register blue stern eyes, she was hauled over a shoulder and moving, bouncing through the smoke at an alarmingly fast pace.

  “Let me go!” She thumped him on his back as they burst out of the warehouse and into the alley.

  He kept jogging.

  But there was no way she’d go down without a fight. She still had her cattle prod and shoved it into his leg, aiming for behind his knee. A buzzing sound exploded. He staggered, let loose a strangled growl that set her hairs on edge, but didn’t let go.

  He kept jogging.

  She screamed and thumped as they bounced along. She thrashed and writhed. She went for his thigh again, but the prod whipped out of her hand and skittered to the floor. It was as though someone had pulled it on a string. No! She could cry. It got smaller as the distance grew between them.

  That was her last weapon.

  Her last line of defense.

  No, that wasn’t entirely true, she still had her fists. She twisted to use them on him, aiming for the head.

  “Stop,” he growled, but his voice was wrong, all distorted and computerized.

  “I’ll stop when you let me go.” Her punches glanced off his hard back, butt and thighs. What the hell was this guy made of, granite? She was more likely to break her fists than him.

  But she wouldn’t give up.

  She tried to pinch. Surely there had to be some soft skin somewher
e.

  Nope.

  Another guttural growl, a grunt, and then they shouldered through a door and into a dark, dank smelling room.

  No! No, no, no.

  She would not be locked in a room with this man. He killed her cousin, he shot Griffin, he was a murderer. She knew this with all certainty because the real Greed wouldn’t kidnap her, would he? Surely he’d be back there fighting. The real Deadly Seven were good. She’d stake her unicorn story on it.

  Her brain shot into her stomach as he flipped her from his shoulder and pushed her into a wall. Oh, God. The room swayed. She almost vomited.

  “Stop fighting me.”

  “Never,” she gasped and swung wide, but it was like one of those childish games when they turn you around and around and then you have to try to walk a straight line. She couldn’t do anything. The man in front of her swirled.

  “Relax.” A hand steadied her.

  No! “Don’t touch me,” she slurred.

  Her kidnapper watched patiently as her dizziness abated, and she became aware of a buzzing, flickering light behind him, a globe dangling from a cord.

  When she brought her attention back to the man, cold, hard eyes peered back at her. Killer! He grappled her flying fists and flattened her against the wall with his body.

  So warm.

  She hated that her body rejoiced in his heat because she was cold. She pushed against him.

  “I’m not him,” came the deep voice as he leaned into her, nose hitting hers—only a thin layer of fabric separating their skin. “I’m the real Greed.”

  Stupid man stood with his legs apart. She kneed upward. “I don’t believe you.”

  He took the hit in the groin and bit out, “I swear it’s me.”

  “Your bo-staff is missing.”

  “There were more important things to carry.”

  “Oh sure, a likely story.” He was sounding remarkably non-psycho and she didn’t like it. Too much anger and aggression had built inside her with her fight-or-flight reaction. Fight, dammit, she wanted to fight.

  Never again would she be tied up like Donnie tied her.

  She pushed at him, but it was like being stuck between two unforgiving walls. A frustrated cry ripped from her lungs as helplessness washed over her. He was too strong. Too powerful. As if sensing her sudden turn of emotions, he let go and stood back.

  The light continued to flicker and they must have hit it because now it swung behind him with a squeak. Without breaking eye contact, he caught the cable, halting the globe. When he let go, he held up his palms in surrender.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear, but I need you to remove that weapon strapped to your thigh before you use it against me.”

  She didn’t have a weapon. She’d given it away, and the stupid hobo man must have stolen it from the poor woman, and how the fuck did he know she’d had a weapon strapped to her thigh?

  She pointed at him. “Stay back.”

  “I can sense the metal. It’s small, but it’s there.” He frowned, cocking his head. “It’s… u-shaped. A pin?”

  Sense the metal? Just what the fudging fork?

  “Don’t you think I’d use the weapon if I had it?” She bit her lip and, knowing it was hopeless, went for his eyes, but her steam had run out. He caught her wrists, twisted and pushed her face first against the wall with the length of his body, arms trapped behind her in his grip. The cold wall on her cheek broke her composure.

  “Please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t.”

  She’d exhausted her adrenal glands until nothing was left. If he truly was the bad Greed, this was it for her. But if he was telling the truth…

  The hard wall behind her softened. “So… it’s not a weapon?”

  “No. I swear. I mean, like I said, there is no weapon. I gave it away to this woman in the street, to protect herself because I gave her my jacket and then there was a baby, and, oh my God, you can check if you like. Just check for God’s sake.”

  The instant her rambling words finished, she froze. Did she just say that?

  You can check if you like.

  Idiot. Complete idiot.

  “He used a gun. I abhor guns and have never used them. You can check me.”

  He wanted her to frisk him? That was almost as frightening a prospect.

  “You saw how I stopped those bullets, correct?” His grip on her loosened, allowing her arms some lag, but he kept her facing the wall.

  Who didn’t see that?

  When the pelting of bullets sprayed the room, she’d thought she was a goner for sure, but then Greed had arrived. He took her in his steady arms and held her tight while the world shattered around them. The real Greed could manipulate metal. The real Envy could use electricity. Those were the facts.

  Focus on the facts, Lilo. She nodded.

  “Okay, so if I was the imposter, would I be able to do this?”

  The metal buckle on her thigh holster wobbled, tickling her skin, sending shivers up her spine from the intimate touch. She gasped. Second by second, her apprehension melted.

  “I don’t know how else to prove it to you.” He turned her around to face him. “Honestly, you can check me for a gun if that will help convince you.”

  He held his arms wide, leaving himself vulnerable to an attack. Not that she had anything left to attack with.

  “Check me.”

  If she frisked him and found no weapons, would it matter?

  Would she feel safe?

  The questions tumbled in her mind as she looked him over. He was a full head taller than her, broad shouldered and buff. Strength incarnate.

  Even with a man as soft as Donnie, she knew her limits when he decided to force her in the bedroom. He never followed through with his threats, but he liked to remind her that he was stronger. There were times he’d tied or held her down and delighted in her struggles, saying that the excitement made the sex better.

  There were times she’d felt terrified and helpless.

  She had no doubt that underneath Greed’s leather was a body made for war. There were many straps and pockets on his suit. Places weapons could hide. But the more she looked at him, the more reason pushed her fears away. This man before her wasn’t the man who shot Nathanial, nor the one who killed in the warehouse. He was a hero who put himself in danger, for no pay, no regard, and constant attacks from the media.

  And there he was, protecting her, keeping her safe. Still, she’d feel better if he wasn’t hiding behind that scarf and hood. If he wanted her trust then he had to reciprocate.

  “Show me your face,” she demanded.

  “You’re a reporter. I can’t do that.”

  “You know who I am?”

  After a beat of stern scrutiny, he said, “I’ve read your articles.”

  “Oh.” A blush hit her cheeks and suddenly, she remembered something. She’d left her spy-phone in there, and… “Oh shit. My father!”

  Greed dipped his head and touched his finger to his ear. “Status update on the hostage.” His eyes locked onto her as he listened to the relay. “Copy that. I’m with… the woman. I’ll see her home safely.” He dropped his hand and stared.

  Well, that confirmed it. The imposter worked alone. This man had friends. As soon as the notion hit her, excitement skipped up her spine, and she saw embarrassing flashes of her vision board with the kissy-hearts. Thank goodness he’d never seen it.

  “Is my father okay?” she asked.

  “He is alive.”

  “Where is he?”

  “My colleagues have the situation under control. The imposter is in our custody, and your father will be handed to police.”

  Relief closed her eyes, and she fell back against the wall. At least he wasn’t about to be murdered. She should feel relieved, but she wasn’t. Something nagged at the edges of her mind and she couldn’t quite pick it up. Her journalist instincts were telling her to keep pushing, keep investigating her father, the pictures, and those men out there. The imposter Greed tu
rned up for the second time in relation to her family. She could have died.

  All those bullets firing at her.

  The weight of realization hit her and made her legs wobble.

  Greed caught her by the elbows, steadying her.

  She should open her eyes. Open your eyes, Lilo. But she couldn’t. He was there. The heat of him enveloped her like a comforting blanket.

  “You saved my life,” she breathed.

  She owed him everything.

  When no answer came back, she lifted her lids to the full impact of his attention. Those eyes betrayed his thoughts—two dark blue orbs burned with intensity—at her.

  He frowned and slowly, his hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, as if he couldn’t help himself.

  She tensed.

  Okay, that definitely wasn’t platonic.

  It was a caress, she realized with a jolt. The moment the thought sank in, her perception changed. It was almost a click in her brain. No longer did she feel like he was a stranger, but someone she trusted. This man saved her life. Overcome with awe, she looked up at him. He could stop a rain of bullets midair and he put her above all else in that room.

  He wanted her.

  Inch by inch, she lifted her palms until they flattened against his front. Her simple touch through his thick leather made his pupils blacken. He made a sound as though he bit back a groan.

  They stared at each other, waiting for the other to halt the direction they were headed.

  No one spoke, but their eyes said enough.

  She slid her hands up and over his broad shoulders.

  He cupped her face, rough warrior fingers rasping along her jaw.

  Now’s your chance, his eyes challenged. Tell me to let go.

  Instead, she blurted: “Kiss me.”

  His lids hooded with a sultry gaze and she could almost feel the heat of his breath as he exhaled.

  Yes, that was a red blooded man under there, and he wanted to kiss her too. Slowly, she tugged at his face scarf, but in a snap, he captured her wrists and held them over her head against the wall.

  Shock sparked a thrill.