SECRET IDENTITY (3 page)

Shaking his head, Lorne pull the tab off of the can, taking
extra care not to rip away the entire top. “Stop it, guys. I didn’t pick the
factory because Brenda was involved with it.” He paused with the drink almost
to his lips and glanced at Luke. “Wait a minute.
You
knew she’d be
there!”

“So what if I did?”

“Asshole. You did it on purpose! You deliberately sent me
there because you knew Brenda would be, too!”

Luke shrugged. “I sent you there because I knew how
destructive the explosion would be. How many people did you save?”

“You know how many,” Lorne mumbled, then took a sip of his
drink. They had celebrated Luke’s first appearance as Mr. Mental with root
beer, and the tradition had been repeated when Lee earned his moniker as
Espionage. Frankly, Lorne wasn’t big on root beer, but at the moment it tasted
just right, in spite of his brothers’ teasing.

“Well, I don’t.” Lee pouted playfully. “I’m not the mental
genius in this family, remember? So give!”

Lorne gave a little shrug. “Sixteen or seventeen.”

“Twenty-eight,” Luke corrected. “Plus he dissipated that
poisonous cloud and put out that chemical fire in nothing flat. Congratulations
again, Lorne!”

“So, what’s your next plan of action?” Lee asked.

Jerking a thumb in the eldest’s direction, Lorne replied, “Ask
Mister Know-It-All.”

To their surprise, Luke suddenly became serious. “Actually,
I have no immediate plan of action because we’re going to be needed right here
in town to help an old friend through a very serious crisis in her life.”

The word “her” instantly raised the hairs on the back of
Lorne’s neck. He gave his oldest brother a stern eye, as did Lee. “Don’t hold
out on us, Luke. You promised. We all gave the oath, so give!”

“You remember me telling you there are two kinds of events I
can foresee in the future, right?”

“Yeah. The inevitable, and the consequential,” Lee provided.

“This is an inevitable, isn’t it?” Lorne asked.

Slowly, Luke nodded. “’Fraid so. Guys…we’re losing Mike
McKay.”

Lorne felt a sudden icy chill run through him. He nearly
dropped the can of soda in shock as Lee softly whispered, “How?”

“Heart attack. Blockage. It’s beyond our powers.”

Beyond our powers.
An “inevitable” event that no one
had the ability to stop or alter in any way, no matter who they were, or what
kind of powers they held. Like the plant explosion had been inevitable. But the
people he had saved, those lives had been in the “consequential” category.
Depending on his intervention, on certain criteria or “consequences”, the death
toll could have risen as high as several hundred. Instead, there had been just
three.

Three deaths, and all of them at the heart of the explosion
when the tanks had ruptured. Lorne knew he should be glad to have saved so
many, but those three would forever remain on his conscience as those he lost.
His first outing as The Defender, who failed to defend and protect. Those
deaths were three too many in his book. But, as Luke told them, some deaths
were inevitable. Just not all.

And now, their brother with the incredible mental gifts was
telling them that their next-door neighbor, a good man they had known as “Mr.
Mac” for more than twenty years, was going to die soon.

In the next heartbeat, Lorne grasped the full fact of what
Luke was saying. “When?” The word was out of his mouth before he was aware of
asking.

“Tonight.”

Luke paused, and it was as if a dark cloud passed over his
face. He didn’t have to say anything further. For several long, silent minutes,
the three brothers bowed their heads in tribute.

It was Lee who finally sniffed and whispered, “Who gets to
call Brenda to let her know after it’s over?”

“I will,” Lorne volunteered. He glanced at Luke, who nodded.

Yeah, it was inevitable that he would be the one to make the
call.

Chapter 3

Lust

Brenda opened her eyes and rolled over to check the alarm
clock. Peeved, she laid back and sighed loudly.

“It’s not even four o’clock, and I’m wide awake. Why?”

Oh, girl, you know why.

“Yeah, I do. It’s because of him. Mister Black Mask and
Black Leather Pants. Jesus, if those things were any tighter, I’d be able to
see his heritage.”

Don’t forget the jacket.

“Oh, God, no. How could I forget? I’ll bet a year’s pay his
biceps are thicker than my waist.”

In fact, there wasn’t a spot on the man that was
forgettable. From his long, dark hair she would love to run her fingers
through, to the man’s fathomless dark eyes. And that voice. Oh, God, that voice!
So deep, it resonated through her bones.

Brenda reached down, slipped her hand underneath the elastic
waistband of her cotton pajamas, and slid her fingers between her thighs. As
she’d suspected, just dreaming of the man was enough to make her wet.

She moved her fingernails over her tightening clit, lightly
scraping it, and a shiver of delight went through her. Smiling softly, she
closed her eyes.

“What if it was you doing those things to me?” she
whispered. “What if you flew to my window and lightly rapped on the glass,
wanting to come in and have your way with me before flying off again?”

It was so easy to imagine.

Quickly, she shed her pajama bottoms, then reached for the
battery-operated dildo in the bottom nightstand drawer. Lying back on the mattress,
she first warmed the head of the vibrator between her legs as she set up the
scenario in her mind’s eye.

He rapped on the apartment window with gloved knuckles.
The sound was loud enough to wake her, and she stared in surprise at the black
figure outlined against the moon-washed night sky.

She opened the window, allowing him to squeeze through
the opening. He chuckled at the tight fight, and at the thought of where else
there could be a tight fit, another shiver went through her in anticipation.

“I know it’s late,” he began to apologize.

She quickly placed a finger on his lips.

“It’s never too late.”

He smiled, dark eyes sparkling, reflecting the moonlight.
Taking her hand, he kissed the finger, then slowly inserted it into his warm,
wet mouth to run his tongue across the sensitive skin. Brenda felt her breath
catch in her throat as she watched him suckle the digit, pumping it in and out
like a lollipop. Or dick. Impulsively, her eyes dropped to his crotch, but his
pants blended with the darkness, preventing her from seeing whether or not he
was sporting a hard-on, but her instincts told her he was.

He pulled her finger from his mouth, kissed the tip
again. Then, to her shock, he lowered her hand to his pants where she could
grasp the hard, thick roll underneath the layer of leather. Either the man
could read her thoughts, or they were of like mind. Regardless, Brenda gave his
cock a squeeze, and was rewarded with a hiss of pleasure.

“I know we’ve only just met,” he started again.

This time she shushed him.

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

She waited for him to close the window. Once his
attention was back on her, she scooted toward the headboard and waited for him
to make the next move.

Brenda turned on the vibrator and slipped the head between
her lower lips. The dildo’s head kissed her clit with pulsating strokes, and it
was so easy to imagine the stranger in black taking her with his mouth. Licking
and sucking on the taut piece of flesh as his head dipped like a cat licking
cream. She could almost feel his thick hair between her fingers, cool and
slightly damp with dew.

Rolling the warm, realistic-looking penis toward her
entrance, she inserted it an inch at a time, teasing herself as her imagination
envisioned the superhero unbuttoning his pants just enough to allow his
erection to spring forth. Still fully clothed, he bent over her, and she
pressed the dildo further up inside her.

She screwed it inside her, turning it, letting it drill her
as she turned it up another notch. Working the vibrator in and out of her
weeping channel, she used her free hand to pinch her nipples. The same way the
stranger would pinch or lightly teethe the tips as he rocked in and out of her.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it. Give it to me, big boy.”

He would be rough but gentle. He couldn’t spend all night,
but he was determined to make these few minutes count. She sensed his urgency,
and her hand moved faster. She could feel herself lifting, growing closer to
completion, and in her imagination she could hear his dark voice urging her to
come.

“Squeeze me, Brenda. Oh, yes. I want to see your orgasm.
I want to hear you scream. I want to feel your pussy squeeze every drop from
me. Fuck me, Brenda. Fuck me as hard as I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

Her release came unexpectedly, and she continued to ram the
dildo in and out, keeping her orgasm bright and hot. She was barely aware of
the fact that she was holding her breath until the sound of her pulse drummed
in her ears. Gasping, Brenda felt her body begin its descent into a languid
afterglow. Her muscles melted into the sheets. Her mind clouded over,
surrendering to sleep. Switching off the vibrator, she barely had the energy to
drop it over the side of the bed.

Replete, the masked man sat back on his heels and stuffed
himself back into his tight leather pants, zipping—no, rebuttoning the pants.
Bending back over her, he gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

“That was incredible.”

“There’s always more where that came from.”

He leaned up to open the window.

Her imagination skipped a beat as her weariness washed over
her. It had been a very nice dream. Very nice. A dream.

It took a few seconds for her brain to register the fact
that her cell phone was ringing. Reluctantly, Brenda groaned and crawled out of
bed to stumble over to the dresser where she’d left her purse. The number on
the phone’s display was unfamiliar, but the area code was Fullerton’s. For a
split second she debated whether to let the caller go to voice mail, but her
conscience urged her to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Miss Brenda McKay, please.”

“This is her.”

“Miss McKay? I’m sorry to call you at this time of night. My
name is Dr. Randolph. I’m here at the county hospital in Fullerton. I’m afraid
I have some bad news.”

Chapter 4

Home

The day was muggy but breezy when Brenda pulled up into the driveway.
As the garage door slowly opened, it reminded her once again that the
split-level was hers. It was no longer “her family’s”. It was “hers”. No
strings attached, as of four o’clock that afternoon.

Pulling into the garage, familiar smells assailed her. The
scent of motor oil and grease were predominant, since her father had loved
spending many afternoons fine-tuning the antique Oldsmobile’s engine. Now, the
Oldsmobile, the cans of oil, and Dad were gone, but never the memories or the
residual odors of those memories.

She had just walked into the kitchen from the garage when
the front doorbell rang. Her first reaction was irritation.

Go away. I just got home. I’m heartbroken, and I want to
be alone, all right?

The doorbell rang again.

“Might as well get it,
and get it over with
,” she
told herself. There was no telling if the intruder would continue to ring the
bell, and maybe include banging on the front door. Plus there was no way she
could go from the kitchen into the hallway leading to the bedrooms without
passing in front of the door and not be seen by whoever was out there.

Resigned, she strode through the living room, into the
foyer. A dark shape reflected behind the large oval glass inset in the door,
but she had no qualms about opening it. After all, this was Fullerton. Hometown,
U.S.A. Norman Rockwell heaven.

“Hi, Brenda. Saw you pull in.”

She gasped and stared in shock at the man standing on her
front porch. The black hair was long and shaggy, and pulled back into a short
ponytail at the nape of his thick neck. He wore a faded plaid shirt open like a
jacket over a pristine clean white t-shirt, and baggy, tattered jeans, along
with a pair of black flip-flops. Still, he was instantly recognizable past the
days-old stubble by his shy smile and amazing gray eyes.

“Lorne Palmer! Goodness gracious! How
are
you!”
Impulsively, she hugged him, and immediately she became aware that there was a
man’s body underneath the almost homeless-looking outer layer. There were hard
muscles hidden by the blue plaid flannel. Wide shoulders. The college boy had
grown up, just like she had. Quickly, Brenda pushed it to the side and stared
at her neighbor. “God, I was hoping you’d come over. It’s been, what? Six
years?” She glanced back over her shoulder at the disarray inside the house,
then turned an apologetic face toward him. “I would invite you inside, but I
just got here, and there’s nothing I can offer—”

Lorne produced two soft drinks from where he had been
shielding them behind his back. “I figured you might like a more welcoming
homecoming than to face an empty house.” He gave a nod toward the porch. “Come
on. Let’s have a sit like we used to.”

They took their seats on the stoop, and the years fell away.
Several minutes passed as they drank their sodas. Brenda marveled at how much
things hadn’t changed despite time, and for that she was truly grateful.

“Thank you for calling me. I mean, it was nice to hear your
voice after so long. And nice to have one of my almost brothers break it to me.”
She graced him with a small smile. “Thanks.”