Nightingale (42 page)

And the whole time, I’d never known the two of them were my fiancé and my best friend.
 

Never even suspected. Never had the slightest clue.
 

I’d been such a complete, total fool.
 

Some reporter I was. All the classic signs had been there. Matt’s many bruises and injuries, his late nights and odd hours. Karen’s long, strange absences from town and uncanny ability to open any jar, despite her petite size. The pieces clicked together in my mind like a jigsaw puzzle. The two of them must have spent hours laughing at my stupidity and nivet and trusting nature. When they weren’t having hot, superhero sex, that is.
 

My fiancé and best friend were sleeping together and hiding their secret identities from me. I didn’t know which betrayal hurt worse. Or which made me angrier.

“How long has this been going on? I would think given your ... extracurricular activities that sleeping together would be out of the question.” I spat out the words. They left a foul, bitter taste in my mouth.

“Well, it’s actually a funny story.” Matt laughed in a vain effort to lighten the mood.
 

I crossed my arms over my chest, and his half hearted chuckle died on his lips. Too bad he didn’t follow suit.

“Anyway, we were down at the old abandoned mill a couple of months ago, doing the usual epic battle, you know, explosions and danger and stuff, when Crusher, er, Karen, reached out and grabbed me. All this radioactive waste was leaking everywhere, and it was making us both feel really strange, and we just sort of kissed and ...”

His voice trailed off under my red-hot glare. If I had the ability to shoot lasers out of my eyes, the two of them would have been extra-crispy by now. Too bad I didn’t have my own superpower.

Matt still sat on the bed, Karen straddling him. They made no move to disengage or hide their costumes. I knew at once they were actually relieved I had caught them, not only doing the nasty but exposing their secret identities. Relief filled their treacherous eyes, and tension oozed from their pores as if a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. They were happy they’d just ruined my life with their lies and deceit and betrayal. It made me ill.

I took a step back. I had to get away from them. From both of them. My heart couldn’t take any more. I whirled around to dash out of the room.

My high heels snagged on the thick carpet, and I went down in a pile of white tulle. My tiara slipped off my head and rolled across the floor, and my hair tumbled out of its pearl-studded clips. I struggled to stand, and my eyes fell on my cell phone, which I’d dropped, along with the key card. Hitting the floor had made the phone’s screen light up, showing the wallpaper picture of me with my arms around Matt, both of us smiling, both of us
happy
. At least, I had been happy—then.
   

The volcano of anger inside me cooled and congealed into a large, black lump of hate. Matt and Karen had had their fun at my expense. Now, I was going to do something about it. Something to even the score. The pieces of my broken heart twisted in my chest. Something to hurt them like they’d hurt me. Only worse.

I got to my feet, dusted myself off, and stalked over to my phone. Something crunched under the toes of my torturous shoes. I looked down. I’d just smashed my cubic zirconium tiara to bits. It, too, was fake, just like everything else in my life.

I snatched the cell phone.
      

“What are you doing?” Karen asked.

“Just giving the two of you what you so richly deserve.” I squinted at the traitorous, spandex-wearing pair on the phone’s screen. “Say cheese.”

#

The next day, the headline in the
Beginnings Bugle
screamed
MACHINATOR UNMASKED! CRUSHER UNCOVERED! IDENTITIES REVEALED! Find out the truth behind town’s superhero, villain. Story and photos by Carmen Cole
.

My story described in honest, if painful and humiliating detail, how I had uncovered the pair’s real identities. A photo of Karen and Matt, their spandex suits visible beneath their rumpled clothes, stretched across the front page of the newspaper. When they’d realized I was taking pictures of them, they’d tried to talk me out of it. Fools. They should have saved their breath. I would never listen to a word they said. Never again.

When asking nicely hadn’t worked, Karen tried to yank the cell phone out of my hands and squeeze it to bits. But Matt, being the valiant, noble, oh-so-faithful superhero he was, intervened. As I’d coolly backed out of that hotel room, they were rolling around on the floor, punching and kicking each other. I wasn’t sure if they were fighting or engaged in some sort of kinky, rough form of foreplay. Perhaps it was all the same to the superhero-and-villain set.
 

Not even stopping to change out of my wedding gown, I’d gone straight to the
Bugle
and told the editors what I had. It had been one of the most embarrassing, mortifying, downright degrading things I’d ever done, but I squared my shoulders and held my chin up. Page One had been cleared.

I’d spent the rest of the day at the newspaper, digging up all the information I could on Matt and Karen, aka the Machinator and Crusher. Matt’s supposed accidents
at work always occurred the day the Machinator engaged in some big battle. Karen’s long absences and sudden arrivals in town coincided perfectly with Crusher’s stints upstate. Dates, times, places, injuries. It was all there. How stupid, how blind I’d been. I was ashamed to call myself a journalist.

When I didn’t show for the wedding ceremony, Matt’s mother called the paper. I told her everything.

She didn’t speak for a moment. “What about the flowers? And all the food? Everything’s already been paid for. I can’t eat a hundred chickens by myself.”

“Didn’t you hear me, Matilda? I just told you that your son is a superhero.”
 

“Oh, I know that. Who do you think makes his costumes?”

“And did you know about him and Karen too?”

“My boy is special. He gets tons of fan mail. You didn’t think he’d be happy with just one woman, did you?”
      

I hung up on the old bat. She’d never liked me anyway.

An hour later, the local news blared onto the television set. Matt and Karen had made quite a mess at the Forever Inn, and part of the historic building had collapsed. Some things just aren’t made to last. Or to withstand a superhero-ubervillain battle. I sent a photographer to get pictures.

A couple of friends called, trying to get me to calm down and give Matt a chance to explain. I told them to have fun eating Matilda’s precious, already-paid-for chicken and went back to work.

The next morning, the
Bugle
sold out in minutes. The press guys came back in to print an extra 10,000 copies. Phones rang off the hook, as the wire services and national media picked up the story. The
Bugle’s
stock soared. Management had never been happier. As for Karen and Matt, the two of them vanished once the story broke. No one could find them, or their alter egos.
 

I collected as many copies of the newspaper as I could and posted them all over my tiny cubicle. Everyone and his brother stopped by my desk to congratulate me on the big scoop. The publisher himself even came out of his office to give me an
atta-girl
speech. A few of the sports guys cracked jokes about how I’d gotten the story, but a heated look from me sent them scurrying for cover. I was in no mood to be made fun of.
 

After spending almost twenty-four hours at the newspaper, I went home. I opened the door to my apartment, tossed my keys onto a nearby table, and flipped on the lights. Piles of cardboard boxes greeted me. After our honeymoon in Hawaii, I was supposed to move in with Matt, and most of my things already had been packed away.

My thoughts turned to Matt. Where was he? Had he seen the story? Was he sorry he’d lied to me? Or was he with Karen? Picking up where they’d left off?
 

Had he ever really loved me?

My eyes traced over the boxes. Hearts and silly cartoon figures wearing lacy veils and diamond rings decorated the cardboard. The jagged pieces of my heart scraped against each other. The wedding, the honeymoon, the happily ever after. All gone. A few tears leaked out of my eyes, but I smacked them away. I’d done my crying on the way to the newspaper. I wouldn’t do any more.

I dug through one of the boxes, found some wrinkled sweats, and walked into the bedroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the dresser. My auburn hair stuck out at funny angles. Dark purple circles ringed my eyes. Pain and anger burned in the blue depths. I looked more than a little crazy. I felt that way too.
 

To top it off, I still wore my wedding dress, although I’d chucked the unbearable shoes hours ago. I smoothed down the ruined gown. The wear and tear of the day had turned the snow-white fabric a bland beige. The diamond in my engagement ring sparkled in the dim light. I’d been so happy the night Matt had put it on my finger. So sure of my love for him, and his for me. Now the ring just reminded me of broken promises, shattered dreams, and my own blind stupidity.
 

I yanked the ring off, marched over to the dresser, and pulled open a door on my jewelry box. I stared at the ring a moment, then stuffed it in the back of the drawer, and shut it. I turned a key, locking it away.
 

I won’t be fooled again
, I vowed.
Not by anyone
.
Never again
.

Excerpt from HOT MAMA,

Book Two in the
Bigtime paranormal romance series

PART ONE—WEDDING BELLS

Chapter One

My wedding day.
 

It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. A time of joy and celebration and new beginnings. The day every girl dreams of from the time she’s old enough to play dress-up in her mother’s clothes.

It was exactly that sort of day.

Joy. Hope. New beginnings.

But it wasn’t
mine
.

Carmen Cole twirled in front of the full-length mirror. Her white satin wedding dress swung out in an arc then gathered back in on itself. Thousands of crystals dotted the fitted bodice and full skirt, giving the dress a shimmering, ethereal air. A matching crystal necklace sparkled like a ring of stars around her neck.

“How do I look, Fiona?” Carmen turned her blue eyes to mine.

I hated to admit it, but Carmen looked fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. A rosy flush tinted her cheeks. Excitement brightened her eyes. Even her auburn hair glistened beneath her simple lace veil.

“You look fabulous. After all, you’re wearing a Fiona Fine original.”

Carmen frowned at her reflection. “I know it’s one of your more subdued designs, but I still think it’s a little much.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. An errant spark flew from my thumb and landed on the beige carpet. I squashed it with my stiletto. A little much? Please. If Carmen had gotten her way, she would have worn holey jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a ratty T-shirt with some cutesy saying on it to the wedding.
 

Luckily, hotter heads had prevailed. Mine. Then again, it was easy to get your way when you had the ability to shoot fire out of your fingertips. Getting my way was one of the prime benefits of being a superhero. My favorite benefit.
      

Just because I moonlight as a superhero doesn’t mean that I can’t be a little selfish
—
or enjoy the perks of having superpowers. Usually, I’m perfectly happy just being Fiera, one of many superheroes in Bigtime, New York, fighting evil, cracking skulls, and making life miserable for all those pesky ubervillains who want to take over the city, then the world. But every once in a while, I enjoy showing off my fiery skills, especially when it’s for the greater good, such as making sure Carmen didn’t look like a bag lady at her own wedding.

A knock sounded on the door, the knob turned, and Lulu Lo zipped her motorized wheelchair into the room. A royal-blue dress covered her slender form, bringing out the smoothness of her porcelain skin and the cobalt streaks in her spiky black hair. Because we were both bridesmaids, I wore a matching gown, but with a few modifications—a lower bodice, a tighter fit, and a higher slit up the side.

“Nice dress, Sister Carmen.” Lulu whistled. “That’ll make Sam sit up and take notice.”

Carmen grinned. Another spark shot out from my thumb. Sam had already taken plenty of
notice
of Carmen, despite my efforts to the contrary. The two of them were always sneaking off to have wild sex in some corner of the manor house.

“Of course Sam will notice,” I snapped. “I designed the dress. Ours too, if you’ll remember. They’re all fabulous.”

“Well, you do look very
hot
, Fiona.” Lulu laughed.

I glowered at Lulu. Just because I was a member of the Fearless Five, one of the most esteemed superhero teams in the world, didn’t mean that I didn’t get snarly from time to time—or that civilians like Lulu had the right to poke fun at me.
 

Of course, none of this would be happening if Carmen, aka Karma Girl, hadn’t insisted that we tell Lulu our secret, superhero identities. Carmen had argued that Lulu deserved to know the truth, because she’d helped save us from the Terrible Triad, a group of ubervillains. Lulu also was the main squeeze of Henry Harris, aka Hermit of the Fearless Five, and he’d wanted to tell her the truth as well. The other two members of the Fearless Five, Sam “Striker” Sloane and Sean “Mr. Sage” Newman, had agreed with Carmen.