Chapter 15
POP.
“Did he dump you?” She continued chewing her gum as if she held a grudge. “Or did you dump him?”
“Nobody dumped anybody.”
“So you’re still together?”
Becky. My dear, sweet Becky. I recognized the trap laid out before me.
No matter what I answered, she’d walk away with a hefty bit of gossip.
Perhaps she should have been the one doing the interviewing, and we’d have gotten somewhere.
A small room filled with the sound of her chomping away, I’d confess to murder.
“Oh, look.” Her eyebrows waggled as she stood. “Your man friend has arrived.”
Becky stood, pulling the seat out for Booker. He shot me a curious glance as she shoved it under him. “Oof.” She lingered for a moment, making kissy faces behind his back. Before I could shoo her away, she darted into the kitchen with her father.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt.”
“Apparently we’re best friends now. She insists I go roller skating with her.”
“I’d pay to see that.”
“My tailbone hurts thinking about it.”
“Have you been paying attention to the news?” Booker dug into his pocket for his phone. “Did you see the video I sent?”
“I sort of lost my phone.” Not entirely a lie. “What’s going on?”
“Mayhem.” He slid the phone across the table. “More than normal.”
The reporter had taken cover behind a pickup truck as the cameraman scurried close behind.
The reporter pointed up, signaling for the cameraman to raise the camera.
Over the tailgate, a duo in spandex robbed the bank in the business district.
As the lady in spandex bolted from the building, she transformed into an eagle and carried her partner and the duffel bags of cash into the sky.
“Doesn’t that bank get robbed weekly?” I asked.
He reached over and flicked the screen. Security footage showed a man in blue leather launching spears made of ice at a cop car. When that didn’t frighten the officers, his hands turned blue, and the car frosted over.
“There’s a couple others. It’s like the villains are out in force.”
“Think the Centurions are going to show up?”
“It’d be the perfect time for them to debut.”
I closed out the video and spotted the HeroApp? on his screen—sixty-eight new notifications.
We knew more supervillains were showing up every day, but that seemed high for the last twenty-four hours.
It seemed as if the Vanguard was being thrown into chaos before our eyes.
I’d need to ask Orion if he had any theories…
as soon as I dared to show my face in the office.
“About earlier, I need to explain.” I spat it out before my brain had time to stop me. That was twice Booker had caught Hellion—me lose control. I feared what he might think. I had been entertaining the thought for a few days. It was time to be brave.
“You don’t need to explain yourself.”
I shook my head. “I do.”
He didn’t push, which made telling him even more important. Booker made space, but he never pressed. I wanted to tell him something; I just didn’t know what.
“I’m not always a nice person.” Long sigh. It might not seem like much of a confession, but I had spent so long trying to be the perfect friend, the image of what I thought others needed. Even the smallest admission felt huge.
“I know.”
“You don’t understand.” He couldn’t and not be so blasé about it.
“I’ve understood it for a while.” He said it as if it were nothing more than emailing without a ‘Warm Regards’ at the end. I didn’t want to confess to frequent bone snapping or goading bad guys into fistfights, but I felt like I owed him a bit more of a confession.
Booker reached across the table, palms up.
When I didn’t budge, he gestured to his wiggling fingers.
His eyes were an almost brilliant green, and I couldn’t stop staring.
The color might be the first thing people noticed, but it was the range of emotions they expressed.
From curiosity to concern, it was almost as if they could show them all at once.
I caved. They were hot, almost clammy, as if he were the one confessing.
“You never need to explain yourself to me.” It had been the thesis of our relationship.
At first, I thought it was the same tactic he used during his interviews.
The thing I loved most about him had been the way he let me set the pace.
He did it with such precision that, at times, I thought he could read my mind.
“I know.” Should I say thanks, or was admitting I understood his intentions enough?
I wanted to add, “But I want to,” but I wasn’t quite there yet.
I was more surprised that I was even entertaining the thought.
With one confession, would the entire house of cards come falling down? With Booker… did I care?
“I need to confess something.”
His thumb traced a line between my knuckles. I wondered if he’d admit a deep, dark secret. Maybe it had something to do with his job. Or maybe it had to do with me? Did he know about Tint? Or Hellion. I said I wanted him to know, but with the possibility in the air, I could feel my pulse race.
“I—” He paused, eyebrow raised.
“Shit has hit the fan.” I recognized that disgruntled voice.
Boots stomped across the pizza parlor to our table.
Thankfully, the only other customer was tucked in a corner with headphones on as he ate.
“I got back to my place, and somebody destroyed my house. While I packed, there was a knock at the door.”
Tia stood next to the table. She glanced in my direction, her lip curling in a snarl. I hadn’t asked about the card Booker gave her, thinking it might be the address of a safe house. I let go of his hands as our date went from personal confession to strictly business.
“Goons,” she barked. “They sent goons!”
Booker reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. He started scribbling on a napkin. “This is the number of a friend. Danny’s somebody I’d trust with my life. Tell him it’s a Redline situation. He’ll know what it means.”
“Until when? You two figure out what’s going on?”
“We’re close.”
“Like hell you are.” Tia and Janet were two chaotic sides to the same coin. “You’ve been at this for how long? You’re chasing dead ends.”
She wasn’t wrong. Just when we thought we were getting closer, the culprit turned out to be a decoy.
Cypher and Redford were nothing more than patsies.
I leaned back in my chair while Booker tried to placate Tia.
Cypher we found through good ol’ fashioned detective work.
Or had we? We found Redford in almost the same manner.
Orion would say there was no such thing as coincidences.
I hated to admit it, but he might have a point.
“She’s right.” My statement stopped them mid-sentence. “Have we been played?”
Tia’s eyes rolled back. “World’s greatest detective, you’re not. I could have told you that.”
“Where was that photo taken?” I asked.
Tia snarled again. In the interview room, she had been scared, borderline terrified.
She had time to regroup, and the Tia I knew from the waiting room had returned with a vengeance.
Perhaps it was the setting, or knowing I backed down with Booker here, but given the chance, I think she’d take a swing.
I waited for her to unleash a stream of curses.
“Centurion Tower.” SMACK. She put enough force into the blow that it landed somewhere between a slap and a punch. “Asshole.”
She stepped out of reach. Tia might have mustered some bravado, but I scared her, and that wouldn’t fade anytime soon. I deserved nothing less.
I was surprised when she reached into her pocket and produced a crumpled card. She tossed it on the table. I waited for another slap, but Tia stomped toward the door.
“Pull your heads out of your asses.” She paused at the door, the bell jingling overhead. “Fix this, or I’ll do it for you.”
What did Booker think about our exchange?
After this morning, he only asked if I had discovered anything useful.
I discovered plenty, but nothing that made any sense.
This is why Orion had a board with photographs and documents linked by red string.
The pieces were there, but they didn’t always make sense.
I opened the card.
An invitation to Centurion Tower. It was a chance for the influencers of Vanguard to see inside what would someday be the home base of Vanguard’s greatest defenders.
Carmen LaToya understood how to create a public relations splash.
The particulars weren’t interesting. At the bottom, embossed in black, was the three-pointed Trident.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a clue.”
“To who’s in charge?”
Running a finger over the stamp, I could feel the grooves of the embossing. What were the chances that assassins with tattoos were involved with Centurion Tower? It seemed illogical, but I could already hear Orion whispering in my ear, “Welcome to my world.”
There were no such things as coincidences.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “What were you saying?”
“We might need to—”
“From earlier.”
“Oh. That.” I caught his eyes dropping to the table.
After this morning, I thought I’d be the one shying away from difficult conversations.
What did Booker have to confess that chewed him up inside?
He opened his mouth as if he were going to speak before biting back the words.
I recognized the nervous twitching while trying to wrestle with demons. “It’s just—”
“Mushroom extravaganza.” Becky, perfect timing as usual. She held a pan with a steaming pizza covered in mushrooms. “Who was that lady? I thought she was going to kick your ass.”
“Becky!” barked her father from the kitchen.
“I’m pretty sure she could take you,” she whispered in my direction. “Good thing your boyfriend is here.”
My eyes lit up at the comment. Booker smirked as she slid the pizza between us.
We slept together once. Did that mean we had a label between us?
Becky had dropped a bomb, and at the same time, I didn’t hate the sound of it.
Were we heading in that direction? Our dates were interlinked with our jobs, and I couldn’t imagine he’d stay after we solved Synergy’s villain problem. It almost made me want to drag my feet.
“So cute,” Becky muttered as she walked away.
Whatever Booker wanted to confess, fate stopped him twice. I couldn’t handle seeing those green eyes drop again. “How far are you into Frankenstein?”
He smiled, and that’s the only thing that mattered right now. Whatever was going on with us, with the investigation, it could wait. Instead, we’d eat pizza and talk about books. Our secrets could wait.
As I grabbed a slice oozing with cheese, I stared at the crumpled invitation on the table. There was no avoiding the trident. The answer was there. I could feel it in my bones, dancing on the tip of my tongue, and yet I couldn’t place it. There was only one person who could connect the pieces.