Heels and Heroes

Heels and Heroes Page 3

Justice, in addition to having superior strength, which was helpful if not entirely uncommon, had the ability to track supers. A rare ability, enough so his decision to become a superhero instead of a super villain was almost miraculous. Many of the strong ones went the other way. Little reward waited in the hero business other than the appreciation of the general public, which could be fleeting and could quickly turn to outrage and anger. Villains, on the other hand, found their chosen professions quite profitable.

Until a superhero caught them.

After what seemed like hours, Justice emerged from the bank. His hard expression wasn’t the least bit contrite, but he didn’t make any biting follow-up comments either.

“We’re too late. I can’t track him.”

“So, what happens now? We go home and wait for him to rob another bank?”

Justice grimaced. “That’s not all we do. We’ve got people on it. But I’ll take you home.”

That was it, wasn’t it? We had people on it, but she wasn’t part of the we. She was the you. Not powerful enough to really be part of the Superhero League in anything but name, but not normal enough to fit in among humans.

But that was why she’d worked so hard, wasn’t it? Why she’d pushed herself through pharmacy school and worked her butt off to become not just good at her job, but excellent. And in that, she’d succeeded.

He started walking back to the car, and she followed him automatically. He’d send her home and then do his superhero thing. Figured.

Silence overtook the car, thick in the air, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “So what did you think of your first super villain scene?” he asked.

“It wasn’t my first scene,” she said, but didn’t elaborate.

Fine. If she didn’t want to talk, they didn’t have to talk. He didn’t realize how hard he gripped the steering wheel until he felt the material start to bend in his hands. Biting back a curse, he relaxed his hold. What was it about this woman? She’d driven him nuts from afar with her eyes and smile since he’d transferred to the Chicago league two years before, and now that she was close, she still drove him crazy—in a different way—with her scathing tongue and contrary attitude.

“It was weird to see the scene like that,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “So…” she waved her hand in the air, searching for the right word, “…clean.”

He nodded. “The least-destroyed crime scene I’ve seen in a while. Definitely the cleanest I’ve seen by a super villain.”

She turned to him, and the weight of her gaze made his pulse quicken. “Do you see a lot of non-super villain crime scenes?”

Shit.

He’d slipped up. He was so careful; he never slipped up. It was her fault. Damn woman, she wrecked his concentration.

“You know, on television.” He shrugged, trying to keep his voice light and airy.

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.

Desperate to change the subject, he asked, “So how long have you been with the Chicago league?”

He saw her frown deepen and her eyes narrow with his peripheral vision, but she answered his question. “Since forever. I’m from here. My parents are superheroes. They used to be on The Council, but they’re retired now.”

Her parents had been Council members; no wonder she had such a chip on her shoulder. All people born with abilities, whether it was something useful and impressive like super speed, or as useless as making grass grow from your skull, were permitted to join their local Superhero League. After all, even abilities that seemed useless could come in handy, and they always needed volunteers to speak at schools and oversee charity work. But Council members were different. Only the most powerful superheroes were found on the councils of their area chapters. If both of her parents had been Council members, she’d had a lot to live up to.

“Must have been hard,” he said finally. “Two parents on The Council and you being….” He stopped talking, trying frantically to think of a way to finish the sentence without sounding condescending.

“What? Disabled by my crappy superpower? There are a lot of paths to success, Justice. Superpowers are just the easiest way.”

“Hey, it’s not like good superpowers are a surefire way to success.”

“No? Well it’s the nearest thing to the easy street that exists. Most of us have to work a little harder than being born special to succeed in life.”

“Just because you’re jealous—”

She gasped. “I’m not jealous!” Her head whipped around to look out her window. “Hey, stop the car!”

“Oh, you’d rather walk home than face an argument you can’t win? Some superhero you are.”

“You passed my apartment half a block ago, genius.”

He opened his mouth but no words came out. As they slid to the side of the road Silencer jumped out before he brought them to a complete stop, slamming the car door behind her.

Work seemed a little drabber than normal after spending the night arguing with a superhero and investigating a crime scene, and for some reason Justice’s face—the part not hidden by his mask, anyway—kept flitting to the top of her thoughts. Not that it hadn’t in the past, but things were different now. He’d proved himself to be a jerk, just as she’d figured he would. He was a powerful superhero after all, and that kind of thing tended to go to a man’s head.

So why was it she couldn’t think about anything but how strong his hands looked? How they’d feel, rough against her skin.

“Hey, Bren, we’re running a bit behind out here,” Maria said, nodding toward the pharmacy as she peeked into Brenda’s office.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll be out in just a minute,” she said, face burning as if the woman could read her thoughts.

Maria nodded and turned back to her work.

What she should be worried about was Howler. What did Justice expect her to do if she blocked his powers? Run up and kick him? Self-defense and karate classes she’d taken over the years had been purely for fitness’s sake, and she wasn’t prepared for a real fight. Oh, there was the standard training regiment all superheroes went through, but it was just practice, not real experience. Not that she hadn’t imagined being in a real fight more than once while she practiced. She’d meant to ask Justice more questions, sort out the specifics of The Council’s plan, but he’d touched on her sore spot. Made her angry. Accused her of being jealous. As if he knew what it was like to be in her shoes.

Brenda shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had to focus. An administrator filling out a bit of paperwork could afford a distracted brain to a certain extent; a pharmacist couldn’t.

So for the next two hours she kept her attention on work. Thoughts of superheroes and villains and Justice moved to the back of her brain, and she focused on filling the prescriptions that might very well mean life or death to the people they’d been ordered for. Requiring superpowers or no, it was a hefty responsibility.

Superheroes weren’t the only ones who saved lives.

“It’s Ms., not Miss,” an icy voice said from the counter. The voice was familiar enough to pull her from double-checking the information sheet she was stapling to a prescription bag, but she couldn’t quite place it.

The woman who corrected Maria’s use of her name didn’t look familiar. Short, brown hair, graying at her temples, did nothing to cover an ordinary fortyish face that sat on top of a body that wasn’t exactly overweight but didn’t appear to get a lot of gym time, either. Her too-tight T-shirt that proclaimed she was a fan of the local high school football team didn’t ring any bells.

Brenda moved closer to the counter to get a better look. She still couldn’t place her, and it felt important she did. The woman noticed Brenda’s stare, and returned it with one of her own.

“Can I help you, dear?” she asked, voice only slightly more kind than the one she’d used to correct Maria.

Recognition hit Brenda. Maybe it was the “dear” that did it; most people didn’t call strangers dear—not in Chicago. Or maybe the slightly condescending motherly tone triggered her recall. Whatever the cause, she knew without a doubt that the woman standing at her counter was Violet. Violet in her normal clothes.

“No, sorry. I thought you were someone else,” Brenda stammered, and a flush crept up her cheeks for the lie.

She pursed her lips and looked Brenda up and down thoughtfully but didn’t say anything else. Instead, she snatched the prescription bag from Maria’s hand and turned to leave. She stopped after a couple of steps and pivoted back around, just enough to give Brenda one last considering glance before she walked out the door.

A loud chirp made Brenda jump. She glared at her cell phone and then grabbed it to silence the noise.

“Another emergency?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll explain—”

“Later, I know.” Maria grinned and waved her away.

Operating on little sleep, Brenda had left the house without packing a superhero outfit with her. Luckily, she had the extra mask she always carried in her car—it was regulation, after all. So after parking, she tied the mask on and tried to look as official as she could while wearing a superhero mask with a pair of slacks and a button-up blouse. She had half convinced herself it was working until she met up with Justice at the crime scene.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked, after taking in her outfit and shiny red mask.

“It’s regulation,” she snapped back.

He frowned at that, but didn’t argue with her. He of course wore his normal gear, and she wondered if he ever took it off. An image of him showering in all that black leather flashed in her mind, and it was all she could do to suppress a giggle.

“Something funny?”

One of the bank’s double doors hung from a single heavy hinge, and the other was nowhere in sight. Rubble decorated the once-professional lobby, and peeking inside revealed that much of the debris came from the second story, which had half collapsed on the floor below it. Brenda backed up, not eager to test the stability of what remained of the two-story building. “This…doesn’t look like our guy.”