Authors: Jennifer Estep
I plodded over to my desk and retrieved my executive-style chair—complete with rollers. Sweet, sweet rollers. I dug through one of the boxes marked
Towels
and put some black ones over the chair so the leather wouldn’t get soaked with melting snow and blood. Then, I wrestled Talon up into the chair. From there, it was a breeze to slide him across my hardwood floor into the bathroom. I pumped the reclining lever on the bottom of the chair and tipped Talon over into the bathtub, which was sunk into the tiled floor.
I wiped the sweat off my face and cracked my neck to relieve some of the tension. I wouldn’t have to work out for a week after this Fiera-like effort. I thought screaming at Kyle sapped my energy. Lugging a superhero around was worse.
But I wasn’t done with Talon yet. Promise, or no promise, I wasn’t letting him die, which meant figuring out some way to see how injured he really was and warm him up at the same time. I crawled into the oversize bathtub with the unconscious superhero, propped him up into a sitting position, and placed a towel under his head.
Then I stripped him.
I started with his boots, yanking off the heavy blue shoes and matching socks, before moving up and unbuckling the silver belt around his waist. The leg harnesses and grappling hook gun came next, minus the hook, since Talon had shot it away in the alley.
I put the weapon aside and moved on to the crossbow gun. I hefted that weapon in my hands, surprised by how light it was. The metal bow on top was the same cobalt color as the rest of Talon’s costume. A bolt rested in place, the string pulled taut. All you had to do to fire it was pull the trigger mounted on the gun below. I peered at the bolt. The metal shaft led down to a clear, arrow-like tip that seemed to be made of glass. Something blue shimmered inside the bolt, and I jiggled the bow. The material sloshed around like liquid. Maybe Talon has his own version of blinding gas, just like Bandit did.
I curled my hand around the barrel of the gun, my finger on the trigger. A row of buttons ran along either side of the barrel, just pressing into my hand. Each and every one of the buttons would probably make the weapon do amazing things. I didn’t push any of them, though. I didn’t need to shoot a crossbow bolt through the bathroom wall—or into my foot. I set the weapon down and continued with my superhero stripping.
I managed to peel Talon’s pants down his legs and almost wished I hadn’t when I realized he’d gone commando. But I needed to get him warm and cleaned up, and I didn’t think he’d appreciate me soaking his costume in water. Next came the shirt—part of which was stuck to Talon’s bloody shoulder. I tugged gently at first, trying to pry the leather off the crusty wound without causing him any more pain, but it wouldn’t come free. In the end, I had to yank the stiff, sticky fabric away from the bullet holes in the front and back of his body. The superhero let out a low groan, but didn’t wake up. Probably for the best.
I also pulled Talon’s toboggan off his head. I stared at his hair, a rich shade of chestnut shot through with maple highlights. He wore it short in the back and a bit fluffed out on top, or maybe that was because I’d yanked off his winter hat. For some reason, I’d always pictured Talon as more of a Nordic type, with shocking, white-blond locks and icy blue eyes to match.
I laid the toboggan with the rest of Talon’s clothes just outside the door so they wouldn’t get wet. The boots, pants, and weapons were fine, but the blood-soaked shirt was beyond help, especially with two bullet holes in the left shoulder.
I turned back to the naked superhero in the tub, my gaze examining his body from head to toe. Yeah, I knew it was wrong, but I leered at him. Only a little. Piper would never forgive me if I didn’t. Believe me, Talon had plenty of assets to admire. Washboard abs, strong, corded arms, good pecs. I’d never believed in love at first sight. But lust? Certainly.
In addition to the hard body, Talon had plenty of scars; small, slightly puckered holes I took to be old bullet wounds; thin slashes from knives, swords, or other sharp weapons; even a burn mark that looked like a triangle on his right shoulder. Other nicks and scrapes dotted his torso like weird white freckles.
I traced my fingers over the triangle burn. Then, I laid my palm against his chest, right over his heart. Hot tingles surged up into my arm at the touch, and I sighed with pleasure. With my supersensitive skin, I was almost always cold, no matter how many layers I wore, but Talon radiated heat, even though he sat naked in my chilly porcelain tub. Good. That meant he wasn’t suffering from hypothermia as I’d feared, although I still needed to get him cleaned up.
I moved my hand, examining the superhero’s old wounds. I had some experience with first aid, having patched up numerous folks at my events. Kids mostly, who’d gotten too enthusiastic about their playing and ended up with bloody knees. But the more I looked at the scars, the more I realized Talon wasn’t just a G-man superhero. He was also a regular guy—one who’d gotten hurt more than once keeping others safe. One who was hurt right now. One who needed my help.
So, I quit leering. I turned on the tap, wincing as the faucets squeaked, and let the water get warm before stopping up the tub. I also put some Epsom salts into the mix. They always helped me relax after a long day at the office. Maybe they’d help Talon too—and hopefully drown out the lingering stench of blood clinging to his skin.
Now came the ultimate question—to remove the visor or not?
I stared at the visor covering Talon’s eyes and most of his face. The cobalt lenses reminded me of a pair of wraparound aviator sunglasses more than anything else, although they were tall and wide. The design matched the bird on his suit, with its outstretched wings and claws. Right now, the visor was the only thing preserving Talon’s anonymity. I’d stripped everything else away.
Piper wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have yanked his visor off first thing to see who Talon really was. She would have done it before she even thought about moving him out of the snowy alley. But I wasn’t obsessed with superheroes like Piper was. I didn’t particularly care who was who. I just wanted them to steer clear of my events.
But Talon had reacted violently to the gas spewed from Bandit’s bullet. He’d clawed off the visor and scooped snow on his face as if his eyes were on fire, and he hadn’t been able to see me afterward. I was betting his eyes were red and swollen—maybe worse. They needed to be cleaned and flushed, just like the wound in his shoulder. I’d rather remove Talon’s visor and learn his secret identity than have him be blinded for life because I’d refused to act.
So, I reached for the visor—and was rewarded with a violent shock the second my fingers touched the smooth lenses.
BZZT
.
“Ouch!” I yanked my hand back, shaking it. It shocked me! His damn visor had shocked me!
That was only the beginning. Tiny panels opened up where the lenses met the frames on either side, and two thin metal bars slid out. Awestruck, I watched as the bars wrapped around Talon’s head and snapped together in the back with an audible
click
. I leaned back and realized that a small circular device had formed around the two bars, almost like a lock anchoring them together. My fingers crept out to touch it—
And a voice boomed through the bathroom.
Unauthorized user alert! Unauthorized user alert!
I screamed and stumbled back. After a moment, I realized the voice emanated from Talon’s visor—a very mechanized, bossy voice.
Stop and desist your superhero unmasking immediately! Any further attempts to remove Talon’s visor will result in increasing electrical shocks up to and resulting in death. This is not a joke. Repeat, this is not a joke …
The voice went on from there, chastising me for trying to remove the visor and encouraging whoever was listening to dial 911 and/or the hot line for the Fearless Five, and ask for the superhero on call. But only if Talon was bleeding copious amounts.
It took me a minute to realize what had happened—Talon’s visor had some kind of automatic, self-defense mode to keep me from taking it off. I stared at the back of his head where the two bars had locked together. From the smooth texture of the metal, I was pretty sure the bars and lock were made of solidium, the hardest metal around. The stuff was virtually indestructible. You practically had to have a nuclear reactor to melt it down, which meant there was no way for me to get the visor off now. Not even a superstrong superhero like Fiera could have broken those bars. At least, not without a particularly heroic effort.
A visor with its own built-in defense mechanism to keep an unconscious superhero from being unmasked. Now
that
was clever.
I’d already been shocked to within an inch of my life once before, so I wasn’t eager to repeat the process. I heeded the visor’s warning and left it alone. I’d tried to help the superhero. That was all I could do.
I got out some clean washcloths and towels, along with some bandages and all the antibiotic ointments, healing creams, and painkillers I had. By the time I finished, a considerable pile littered the floor next to the bathtub.
After I’d been jolted into having supersenses, I’d tried every migraine drug on the market, trying to find some way to ease the constant pounding in my head. Even now, after I’d gotten a grip on my powers, a horrible headache manifested in my skull at least once a week.
Water filled the tub, and I turned off the faucets. Talon looked much better since I’d brought him in from the cold. The white strain had faded from his face, from what I could see of it, and his breathing was even and steady. I cocked my head to one side, listening—
really
listening. His heart pumped along with a steady rhythm.
My eyes went to his left shoulder and the small hole there. Now, it was time to get that disgusting, coppery blood off the superhero, and see what else I could do to help him. I wet a washcloth and gently pressed it to Talon’s injury.
The second I touched him, the superhero drew in a sharp, ragged breath.
Although I couldn’t see them, I got the distinct impression his eyes snapped open. I didn’t have any time to react or move. Talon jerked up and latched on to my wrist.
Then, he yanked me into the tub with him.
Chapter Five
I didn’t just fall in. I plunged all the way in—fully submerged. Water forced its way into my mouth, my ears, and worst of all—up my nose. Water going up my nose was an excruciatingly painful and ticklish sensation now that I had supersenses, almost like inhaling liquid fire.
I flailed upward, breaking through the surface, coughing, sneezing, and sputtering water all over the superhero.
“Who are you? Where am I? What happened?” Talon demanded, thrashing around in the oversize tub.
Somehow, despite his injured shoulder, the superhero grabbed both my hands and pulled me toward him until I lay against his slick chest. Damn, he was strong, even for a mere G-man.
“You got shot by Bandit in the alley. I was there. You asked me not to call the police, remember?” I asked, trying to squirm free so I could push my wet hair off my face.
Talon’s gripped tightened on my wrists. “Bandit!” he hissed. “Do you work for him? Or Tycoon?”
“Of course not!” I snapped, trying to pull back again but was not successful.
It was more than a little strange to be trapped in a tub full of warm water, especially when I was not so gracefully straddling a very wet, very naked, very
excited
superhero. One with acres of muscles—everywhere. Muscles I could feel through my waterlogged clothes. I couldn’t help but get a little
excited
myself. All right, a lot excited. Lust at first sight was a powerful, powerful thing.
“You got shot. Before you passed out, you told me not to call the cops, so I didn’t. But since I didn’t want you to freeze to death, I brought you to my apartment so I could clean you up and see how badly you were injured. That’s all. I swear.”
Talon stilled. The rest of the night must have come back to him because he nodded and let go of my hands. I used the opportunity to scramble off his lap, careful not to knee him in the groin. I stumbled up out of the tub, water dripping out of my hair and pooling on the floor.
Talon reached up and rubbed his temple. His fingers stilled, and the superhero realized two metal bars encased his head—which meant I’d tried to take off his visor.
“I wanted to see how bad your eyes were,” I said in a defensive tone. “That’s why I tried to remove your glasses, not because I wanted to know your secret identity. Although from the shock I got, I’d say nobody takes off those glasses but you.”
A faint smile curved Talon’s lips. “That’s the idea. They’re programmed to accept only my DNA.”
“Well, it’s a good one. My fingers are still tingling.”
My toes were too, but I think that had more to do with Talon being naked than with his electro-shock visor.
Talon chuckled. “Who are you?” the superhero asked, his voice now more curious than harsh.
I opened my mouth to respond, but thought better of it. I’d wrapped a superhero in a garbage bag, dragged him down several city blocks, shanghaied him into my apartment, stripped him naked, and tried to take off his visor. This was awkward enough already. Did I want Talon to know who I really was? Chances were
he
was some rich businessman who did the superhero gig for kicks in his spare time. Some suave society playboy who’d be at the majority of events I planned. One who’d secretly think of me as a superfreak, while I had no clue who he was—or that he was laughing at me behind my back.