Paranormals (Book 1) (38 page)

Jeez, I’ve got a known, paranormal vigilante hanging out in my living room, and he’s
not
in my custody. Wouldn’t Brase just love to see this!

Who knew? Maybe he
could
see it. The thought reminded Michael that justice still demanded to be served, and whatever regrets he had over accepting Vortex’s help vanished.

He already had the bathroom door open a couple of inches when he registered the movement inside. He shoved the door away from him and snatched his tazer, a call for assistance rising to his lips ...

"
Mike!
" Christine cried. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. A towel was wrapped around her torso, but her hair was almost dry and the steam from the shower had long since cleared from the mirror — she’d apparently been in here, just sitting on the closed toilet, for a while now. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest.

Michael was dismayed and embarrassed, to say the least, that he had forgotten Christine was here, but he was also concerned about the questionable company he’d brought with him. He could only hope that both Mark and Vortex would have the good sense to stay where they were.

"I thought you were dead!" Christine was crying,
wailing
. "I heard the explosion! I
heard
it! And the news said that so many people were killed! So many! Why didn’t you call me, Mike? I thought you were dead—!"

"I’m ... I’m sorry," he told her, holding her tight. His chagrin at his oversight grew by leaps and bounds. "I ... I was in charge, I had so much to do. I ... I wanted to call you, but I had no chance to leave, and there were no working phones in the area." Part of him felt like an
ass
for the lie, but it seemed less hurtful than the truth right now.

What made it even worse was the knowledge that he needed to get her out of here as soon as possible.

He held her for a few minutes, both touched and unsettled by the vehemence of her emotions. Then he pulled her back very slowly and whispered, "Christine, I hate to say this, I really do, but you have to leave now."

"
What?!
" The hurt and disbelief seeped with the tears from her eyes.

The feeling that he was, in fact,
quite an ass
increased as he kept his voice low. "We’re not alone."

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, confusion now slipping into the mix.

"My partner is here, and he’s in pretty bad shape. He was banged up even before the explosion today." That, at least, was the God’s honest truth. Next came another ... necessary equivocation — that sounded better than "bald-faced lie," didn’t it? "He’s on edge, in shock. I brought him here to get him under control, but ... I’m afraid of what might happen if he were around anyone but me. He’s a good guy, but he’s had a rough time. I promise I’ll introduce you next time, and that you and I will take an entire weekend together as soon as possible. But ... not now, Christine. I ... I don’t want you, or anyone else, to get hurt. Not after today."

God, how he hated this! She deserved better, but what was his alternative?
Oh, never mind. Come on in, honey. By the way, this is Vortex, the vigilante I told you about. We’re planning an attack on the nation’s most notorious rogues. Want to help?

Not likely.

Christine, in the meantime, seemed to believe every word of it, which made him feel worse than ever. "O-oh ... okay. I’ll just ... go home. But
promise
me you’ll call me as soon as you can?"

"I promise," he agreed, and meant it.

She sniffed, wiped her eyes with the heel of her palms, and stepped into the bedroom. "I’ll just grab my stuff ..."

When she was ready, he guided her back to the front door, making sure to keep his body between her and the entrance to the living room the whole time. He opened the door for her and she stepped out into the hallway.

"I’m sorry about this, Christine," he said again, wondering if maybe he hadn’t made a mistake after all. But how could he take it all back now?

"I know. I ... I don’t want to get in your way."

"You wouldn’t be in the way, Christine. It’s just..." He couldn’t find anything else to say.

"I’m sorry your partner’s in such bad shape. I’m sorry for everything."

That struck an odd chord. "Christine ...?"

But she was already moving down the hall. "Goodbye, Michael."

That
also
felt much heavier than it should have. Had he screwed it all up after all?

Serves you right if you have, you dick!

He couldn’t argue with that sentiment. He resisted the impulse to call her back and closed the door.

"What was
that
all about?" Mark asked the instant he appeared in the living room. His partner wasn’t smiling — not quite — but there was a definite gleam in his eye.

"Not now."

The tone of his voice said it all. Mark shut his mouth.

PCA

"We should hit them as quickly as possible — within the hour, if we can — while they’re still celebrating this little ‘victory’ of theirs."

Takayasu, who had finished applying Neosporin ointment and bandages to Shockwave’s many cuts and scrapes —
and
supplying him with six extra-strength Tylenol — was now absently shuffling a deck of cards and occasionally laying three or four at a time out on the coffee table in front of him before scooping them back into the deck. It appeared as though he were playing some sort of Blackjack-Solitaire, but Steve couldn’t be certain, and he didn’t ask. "I agree," the ensign said with a nod, "but I don’t know how quickly I can assemble a strike team. There certainly won’t be any paranormal help. Are you
positive
this friend of yours, ‘Powerhouse,’ will jump in on our behalf?"

Steve hesitated, then nodded. "As sure as I can be. He saved my life when it would have been much safer for him to continue his facade."

Takayasu absorbed that, then addressed Shockwave. "Are
you
up to this, Mark?"

"I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Mike. I’m lookin’ for some payback myself, you know what I’m sayin’?"

"I know
exactly
what you’re saying," Takayasu agreed.

"So do I," Steve echoed, with perhaps a little too much emotion.

Takayasu regarded him. "I don’t pretend to know exactly what your motivations are, Vortex, but let’s just say I have some ideas ..."

Steve froze again. So long as they remained
unsaid
, he knew he could live with Takayasu’s suspicions. He hoped the ensign wasn’t going to spell them out now.

Takayasu leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, the deck of cards momentarily forgotten. "McLane has a lot to answer for, including the
hundreds
of lives lost today. That means there is a
bigger
picture
than any individual crimes he may have committed before now, however brutal."

Steve fumed, " ‘We want him alive,’ is that it?"

"Not necessarily," Takayasu admitted. "We’re going to be outnumbered, and over
powered
. If it comes down to kill-or-be-killed, do what you have to.
I
certainly will." He paused meaningfully, staring hard into Steve’s eyes. "But I will
not
condone cold-blooded
murder
. If the bastard actually surrenders, however unlikely that may be, we will accept that surrender. Do I make myself clear?"

Every muscle in Steve’s body tensed to steel. He wanted to scream,
That’s easy for
you
to say — he didn’t murder your entire family!
But, like it or not, he was pretty sure that Takayasu knew who he really was. That meant the ensign had at least some idea of what he was asking. And his similar conversation with Ardette was still nagging at him to boot.

At length, Steve said, "I ... can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best."

Takayasu nodded. "I suppose that’s all I can ask of you. Just remember: We’re supposed to be
the good guys
."

Steve thought about Lincoln Roberts, and how the young man had reacted to the idea of Vortex. For better or worse, he knew that Takayasu (and Ardette) might be right.

In the meantime, the ensign had gone back to shuffling and dealing his cards. Not surprisingly, Shockwave had nodded off, his mouth hanging slightly open as he dozed. Steve nodded in the sleeping man’s direction. "I’m worried about him. We have to move soon, and we’ll need him to give everything he’s got."

"I know. But we’re not going anywhere until we come up with
some
kind of plan. Even if McLane’s not expecting us, we can’t just walk right up ..." His voice trailed off, and a faraway look glazed his eyes.

Steve sat up straight. "What is it?"

Takayasu blinked once, then glanced sharply toward the window. Though he could not possibly have seen anything through the closed blinds, he yelled, "Down!" as he threw himself to the floor ...

Had Shockwave been completely awake, he would have recognized it as a repeat of the night before: The window exploding inward, the rubber-like figure bouncing into the living room, ricocheting off the far wall and ceiling like the world’s largest rubber ball. Two pliant arms snapped out in either direction, one catching Takayasu in the shoulder, the other barely missing Shockwave’s head. Mark was groggy at first, but upon seeing the intruder, his face contorted with rage.

Steve, who had followed the ensign’s example, crouched on the floor beside the recliner, waiting for the figure to slow down enough to give him a clear shot. A repellent vortex wave would just send it bouncing around some more. Should he use a compression wave, or his lasers? He was hesitant to cut off any more thumbs, or worse, but...

Takayasu’s tazer sang and Shockwave’s kinetic energy rippled. The elastic rogue — whom Steve now thought just might be female — was struck from two sides at once, but neither attack managed its full effect. The arms shot out again, missing both targets but forcing the agents to seek cover once again.

That’s it
. Steve prepared to crush the rogue into a tiny little—

Before he could fire, the door to the apartment was knocked inward so forcefully that the broken pieces sailed all the way into the living room. Steve twisted, preparing to meet the second assault, but when he saw who was leading it, he grinned.

Powerhouse emerged into the living room, with ol’ Silver Eyes close behind him, flashing her immobilizing light the whole way. Takayasu and Shockwave averted their eyes and covered them with their arms, which only left them more vulnerable to the rubber rogue.

Steve couldn’t allow that. He stood up, fanning out his cape with deliberate flair.

The woman turned toward him. Her smile vanished and her inhuman eyes widened. "Oh, no ..." she whispered. In desperation, she flashed him anyway.

Of course, it didn’t work. "Oh, yes," Steve countered.

The rubber woman snapped an arm against his chest. It didn’t feel great, but his uniform protected him from real harm. He turned the vortex wave on her, and within seconds she was no larger than a basketball, squealing the whole time.

"Powerhouse," Silver Eyes yelled, "do something!"

"All right," the other masked man agreed. He raised an arm and
thumped
her squarely on the chin with one finger. Steve heard her already broken jaw crack once more, and she dropped, mostly unconscious but moaning in pain.

Steve released the vortex wave before it started sucking energy from him. The malleable woman unfolded slowly, but the fight had clearly gone out of her, too.

"Glad to see you again," Steve said.

"Me, too," Powerhouse returned. "I’ve got a lead on my brother and sister. I think they’re on a ranch out in Riverside. Don’t have an exact location, but it’s a start."