Chapter 6
Wyatt: Friend Drew, where are you?
Orion: I’m the one who’s supposed to be fashionably late.
Orion: Stop stealing my moves.
Wyatt: Janet suggested we tell Arthur you’re visiting your Aunt Flo.
Orion: Oh, I can’t wait to see this.
Wyatt: Friend Drew, we have your back.
Late to work. No time to iron. I didn’t have time to bring pastries, homemade or store-bought.
My untimely arrival got odd looks from Arthur and Connor.
Janet had given me a giant wink as if I had done something to earn her approval.
I had a thousand things to worry about, and as I sat back in my chair, I could still feel Booker’s hand.
I wanted to daydream about what would have happened had he been there when I woke up. In the middle of the night, he had crawled out of bed, taken the cooler, and excused himself. Before he left, he set out a glass of water and a handful of aspirin. I couldn’t tell if it was romantic or practical.
“Drew.” Janet’s voice on the intercom nearly had me peeing myself. “There is a Ms. LaToya here to see you.”
Shit. Not today of all days.
“If you’d like, I can entertain her.” Entertain meant flirt. Janet had no boundaries.
I pressed the button. “Send her in.”
I did a quick pat-down, trying to stretch the wrinkles out of my dress shirt.
It didn’t help. I gave my beard a quick brush and prepared for another round of Carmen LaToya making idle threats and refusing to budge on her proposal.
After last night, I’d rather deal with the devil herself than sort through what happened.
Carmen didn’t knock. She walked in with a smug expression on her face and closed the door behind her.
This blue blazer made it harder to spot the shoulder holster, but I knew it was there.
Now that I thought about it, I wondered if there were any other weapons stashed away.
We rarely dealt with clients I had to frisk.
Then again, I didn’t have many clients who spent their days surrounded by people capable of bending steel without breaking a sweat.
“Carmen.” First name. She wouldn’t recognize it as a slight, but I did. Last night had been a catastrophe, or at least that’s how I remembered it. “It’s always a pleasure.”
She took a seat without being offered. I suspected Carmen LaToya didn’t wait for permission. She laid the briefcase on my desk but didn’t open it. Her lack of an introduction pushed the conversation into silence, an intimidation tactic. I had watched Booker do the same thing in his interviews.
“This game—” I gestured to her. “—is getting old.”
Rude? I couldn’t remember the last time I had been intentionally rude.
I tried to recalibrate and return to the fun-loving Drew everybody knew.
My mind couldn’t focus on the here and now.
I kept thinking about the scientist and the sensation of his neck tucked into the crook of my arm.
The hysteria that followed had transformed into grief.
Now, I was confused, as if my emotions had betrayed me. My reaction hardly made sense.
“Should I come back when you’re not so distracted?”
“Only if you’re ready to sign.” I caught the gasp in my throat. “What are the new terms?”
When Carmen smirked, it didn’t read as humor. Not in a funny, ha ha, kind of way. It was more like a cat about to devour a mouse. I wanted to see her on the opposite side of the desk from Booker. Which of them would crack first? Could he get her to spill all the dirty secrets?
“Something has changed.”
“In the contract?”
“In you.”
I didn’t try to lie. Carmen would know if I didn’t tell the truth.
She had already hinted at knowing my identity…
my real identity. Had she made any alterations to our contract?
At our last meeting, I had been desperate for her approval, ready to concede for the sake of the deal.
She was right, after last night, something had changed.
Instead of begging, I let the mask drop.
“Let’s hear your demands,” I said.
She shook her head. “Not a demand, an offer.” Despite moving her lips, she had mastered the art of stillness. I recognized her control, probably more than most. Her cryptic delivery felt more like theatrics than a true offer.
“Tint.” She didn’t pose it as a question.
Whatever intelligence she had working for her at Centurion Tower had done its homework.
I could deny it and feign ignorance, or I could admit the truth.
Inside that briefcase was the contract Arthur had been waiting for.
Which choice would get me where we needed to be?
Between blinks, everything but the overhead light turned black.
Carmen turned in her seat, inspecting the flex of power. She appeared to hover in space, sitting on an invisible chair. The single light above cast an eerie shadow over her face, making her appear sinister. It seemed fitting.
“Huh.” With the team she attempted to assemble, I shouldn’t have been surprised at the lack of shock. “Shadow manipulation?” The question lacked curiosity and reeked of judgment.
“Hue manipulation.”
“Color? Quaint.”
The temptation to color her retinas like I had the scientist bubbled to the surface.
On any other day, she could poke and prod, and I’d take it like a dutiful employee.
My emotions weren’t in check. Today, I wanted to lunge across the desk and see if her hand-to-hand combat skills backed up that attitude.
“There it is,” she said. The smile turned genuine. “The real you.”
“Carmen, what do you want?”
The bravado faltered as I realized Janet could see through the tinted glass.
Would she tell Arthur I broke our cardinal rule and announced that Secret Identities Incorporated hired actual heroes?
His face would go slack as the disappointment settled in.
I regretted it. The fear of his reaction had me nervously tapping the desk.
“I’m repeating my offer,” she said. “This,” she waved to the room, “is cute. But this isn’t the man I want to recruit.”
Pride? Validation? Carmen LaToya, the director of what could be one of the most heroic teams of supers, had come to recruit Hellion.
She didn’t want a man who changed colors with the snap of a finger.
She wanted a vigilante willing to do whatever it took to get the job done.
I would have been flattered if I hadn’t detected an ulterior motive.
Did she want to put together a team of heroes who would do the dirty work so her A-list could keep their hands clean? Orion’s paranoia had rubbed off.
“He’s not interested.”
Carmen stood. “Pity.” Despite it being hidden in the black, she popped the locks on her briefcase. She set a stack of papers in front of me. “When you reconsider—”
“I won’t.”
“When you do.” She had gumption. “Call me.”
She walked through the darkness, reaching the door. When she opened it, I relaxed, the black fading until I sat in my everyday office. I watched as she crossed the lobby and exited the office. My fingers stopped tapping, and I sighed with relief.
I had thought falling asleep last night would be the reset I needed.
Instead, I remained in a daze, unable to regulate myself.
From showing up disheveled to threatening Carmen with my abilities, I had become a hot mess.
I wished Booker was here. With his hand pressed against my shoulder blades, he had quieted the chaos in my head.
“I demand a do-over,” I muttered.
I stared at the stack of papers. All the notes I had included were there. I opened the first page, looking for the exclusivity agreement.
“Agree to a non-exclusive partnership…” Huh? I flipped to the next note. Then the next. The next. Every revision I had made had been included. “She kept them all?”
On the last page, there was a list of signatures. Among them, Carmen LaToya. This was almost enough to make Arthur forget I outed myself as a super. I continued staring at the ink, expecting her name to vanish.
“Arthur!” I shouted. “We need to talk!”
It almost wiped away the uncertainty that dogged me all morning.
Almost.