Even Villains Go To The Movies (9 page)

He leaned his head back. The stuccoed ceiling offered no inspiration for his women troubles. Beautiful blondes; there were two too many in his life right now.

Forcing the memory of Rage’s kiss from his mind, he opened the second binder, full of the forgotten ones. The super villains who got away, the superheroes who went rogue, all the people who had dropped off the radar for whatever reason.

Most of them weren’t even in the computer system. No one had felt the need to file the cold cases. But some of them were promising: at the very back of the binder was a model photo, a handsome man in a three-piece suit who was smiling at the camera like his career depended on how many people swooned. At the bottom of the same page, Arktos had tucked an old print photograph of a blonde woman with a warm smile and the words ZEPHYR GIRL printed across her white shirt in metallic blue.

He took the photograph out and set it to the side. Doctor Charm and Zephyr Girl were in the wrong folder. They were both dead, killed in an explosion at Doctor Charm’s lab during a fight.

The smile on Doctor Charm’s face drew his attention, though. Rage had the same chin, a similar bone structure. And Charm was the sort of villain someone would take as a lover.

“Hey,” Aaron said as he headed for the fridge. “What’s for dinner?”

“What are you making?”

“A sandwich.” Aaron stopped to look over his shoulder. “Nice job, big brother. Did you get her phone number too?”

Arktos’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “Whose?”

“Angela’s.” Aaron reached down to grab Zephyr Girl’s photo. At Arktos’s stumped expression, Aaron wiggled the picture. “Mia’s tutor? The hot chick teaching me math? The one with the legs you were staring at?”

Arktos colored and snatched the photograph away. “That’s Zephyr Girl.”

“Really?” Aaron shrugged. “Then AJ is her clone. Barbie doesn’t have outfits that match that perfectly.”

Arktos looked at it again. “Rage said her name was Angela, and that her father was a super villain,” he told Aaron as the pieces slowly fell into place.

“Did she mention her mom was a superhero? That’s the sort of thing I’d mention.”

Arktos flipped the pages to check the death dates of the hero and villain. “Go upstairs. Get the blue book in my closet, the big one.”

“Okay.” Aaron gave him a long, critical look.

“Hurry!”

Aaron ran and came back with the book. “What’s in here?”

“Superhero missions. It’s one of the books Katrina wanted tossed because of water damage, but I managed to find somebody who could redo the binding. Check page ninety-two, I think it’s that. Operation Poisoned Apple.”

“Sounds cheerful,” Aaron said as he sat on the table and turned the pages. “Here it is.” He slid the binder across the table.

Arktos studied the photographs. “What’s it say?”

“Ah, not much, it’s a summary of an operation that was busted. Some heroes went rogue and wanted to kill the kids of super villains, but it was busted up by some heroes. Um, why can super villains have kids if you can’t?”

Arktos pressed his lips together. “Good question. Are there any names?”

“Rolling Shock. The Rainbow Dane.” Aaron chuckled. “Oh, here, Zephyr Girl; she’s the one who broke the ring up after going undercover as a rogue.”

“Year?”

“Twenty-twelve.”

Arktos’s heart skipped. What did this mean? He held the photograph out to his brother and caught his gaze. “Aaron,” he said slowly. “Zephyr Girl died. In 2005.”

Chapter Eleven

Dear Mom,

I’m trying to picture Maria joining the U.S. Forestry Service and I’m drawing a blank. The mind boggles.

By the way, do you have Delilah’s work number? I asked her to look into something for me and she’s refusing to answer her cell phone. I need to talk to her ASAP.

Love,

Angela

The apartment wasn’t meant for pacing, but Angela tried anyway. Five steps to one corner, six steps to the next—three if she didn’t want to go into the kitchen—five, six... “Delilah, pick up your phone!” Picturing her sister diving for the ringing cell didn’t do any good. Delilah’s playback tune circled around for its second replay, because everyone wanted to spend their night listening to orchestral arrangements.

“Hello?”

Angela clutched at the phone. “Delilah! Where have you been?”

“At work.”

Angela checked the clock. “Isn’t it a little late for work?”

“I had to go back to the office after a funeral.” Delilah sighed on the other end of the line. “Is someone going to die if I ask you to call back next week?”

“Maybe.”

Delilah remained silent for a moment. “Someone we like?”

Angela bit her lip. “Yes?”

“Angela, what are you doing over there? I thought you were supposed to be lying low and keeping out of trouble.”

“I’m not in trouble. I’m observing trouble. There’s a difference.” She resumed pacing. “There’s...it’s complicated. I’m sorry. Whose funeral were you at?”

“Midwestern Fury’s; he was the main superhero for Chicago.”

“And you killed him?”

“No. I went to his funeral to see if I could find his killer. He’s the second superhero we’ve lost this year.”

Angela checked the phone to make sure she had the right number. “Why do you care? I thought you were firmly anti-hero.”

“I am, but the same big game hunters who go after superheroes like to hunt my big name clients. I told you about that stalking case back in February. I think it’s the same person, or the same group. Atlanta’s Golden Hunt is the name the man gave me, but I still don’t have enough evidence to hand the case over to the police and get them shut down.”

“They hunt humans?”

“Just apex predators in general, but to join they need to kill a human, yes.” In the background Angela could hear the soft clicking of a keyboard. “The stalker and I had a good chat before the police arrived. All right, I have your data. The earrings are custom work made by Jorge Fidel out of Brooklyn. He made two sets of twisted silver and platinum—good call on that. One set is still in the Brooklyn showroom, the other was sold to Tyler Running Fox. According to the gossip, he gave them to his girlfriend.”

“Ty doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Angela blurted out. She rolled her eyes at herself and continued. “At least not that anyone’s mentioned to me.”

“Glee Keni? The actress?” Delilah made an exasperated sound. “Why am I the one who knows who’s dating who in Hollywood when you’re the one who lives there?”

Angela shrugged and readjusted the phone. “I’ve worked on set with both of them. If they’re dating then it’s a low-key relationship.”

Delilah snorted. “Wishful thinking, kiddo. In the past month, a man acting as Running Fox’s agent has purchased close to a million in jewelry for Glee. Rings, necklaces, lots of bracelets.” More clicking followed. “Hmmm. Does Running Fox have a gambling problem?”

“Not that I’m aware of, why?”

“His net worth is a fraction of what it should be. Let me check... Good grief. He spends an estimated ninety percent of his income on charity. That’s ridiculous.”

“Ten percent of his income is probably more than normal people earn in ten years.” Angela flopped back on her couch. “So, I guess that confirms most of my worst fears.”

“Oh? Am I missing some sisterly gossip?”

Angela mumbled under her breath, and then with a sigh, told her sister about the pyro and Arktos. “Both are familiar. I knew I’d bumped into them before, but this just makes it worse. The blonde dropped the earring. She and Pyro are close. I guess it makes sense that it’s Glee and Tyler. And Jacob told me when we first met that he was a superhero.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“Jacob...he’s nice. I guess. I don’t know. He gives off a weird vibe sometimes. Very possessive. Very controlling. Arktos isn’t like that.”

“It could be that he feels like a different person in uniform. Or maybe Jacob is a superhero but isn’t Arktos. Either way, you need to stay away from them.”

“I know.” She crossed her arms. “I told Arktos it wouldn’t work. That we couldn’t...couldn’t anything, really.”

“Good, because you can’t. Not without blowing your cover sky high. He’s Company, Angela. They’re monsters.”

She rolled her eyes. “One day that attitude is going to get you into trouble. No,” she said over her sister’s protest. “Skip it. What about Travys? Have you found out anything about him?”

“He’s buried deep. The case never made it to public records. I’ll work on it tonight after I go over the data I collected from the funeral.”

“Delilah, this Golden Hunt thing. Don’t try to attract their attention. Okay?”

“Would I do something like that?” Delilah asked with an air of innocence.

“Yes.”

“Meh. I’ll be careful. I’m collecting data in my role as a security advisor. I’ll let the police handle everything. I’ll call you when I have something on Travys.”

“Okay. Love ya. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Angela stared at the silent phone. It took her a moment to realize she was holding her breath. She shivered as she forced herself to draw oxygen into her lungs. Poor Travys. Poor her. Why couldn’t The Company just leave her alone? All she wanted was a normal life: a job, PTA meetings, maybe someone to go to the movies with on a Friday night.

There was a knock at the door before it swung open. “AJ, you need to lock up. This is L.A.,” Luiz said as she walked in. “What are you doing?”

“Um.” Angela waved the phone. “Waiting for a phone call and moping.”

Luiz’s forehead wrinkled. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I guess. It’s just...family stuff.” Angela shoved her phone under the couch pillow. “What do you need?”

“Mia’s school is holding a fundraiser tonight at the Salsa Bar. The whole charter school funding thing. I’m trying to drum up some support.” Luiz did a quick rumba step. “Want to go dance?”

“Sure. I...” Well, why not? It was better than moping. “Yeah. Sure. How much is it?”

“Twenty-five will get you in, but all donations go to the school fund so they can buy the old building. If they can get enough by July first they can open the school after Labor Day in September.” Luiz gave her a cheesy grin. “How’s that for a sales pitch.”

Angela smiled back. “I’ll grab some cash.”

“Great! I’m going to go knock on some more doors. I put flyers up at the studio but the Salsa Bar is the low-rent district and I don’t think we’re going to get a great turnout.”

“I promise to put on something pretty and flirt with anyone who makes eye contact as I drive over. With my helmet on. Visor down.”

Luiz rolled her eyes. “Very helpful. Thank you.”

Angela retrieved her phone and went to raid her closet for dancing clothes. She didn’t own much in the way of flirty, super-short skirts, and she wasn’t going to wear a skirt on her bike anyway. Instead she grabbed tight white jeans and a shimmering blue blouse with an asymmetrical hem. If the party got really hot she could kick off the jeans and just wear the shirt as a super-short dress. She pulled it on and did a practice turn in the mirror. It covered all the important bits. Good enough.

It took thirty-five minutes to work her way through L.A. traffic to the little shack on the beach that served up Latin dance music, south-of-the-border food, and the best selection of homemade salsa in the state of California. Angela found herself checking her side mirrors the whole way, watching for a familiar black bike. But if Arktos was out tonight, he wasn’t on her side of town.

Which was good, she reminded herself. They’d kissed. That was it. It was time to laugh it off and move on.

Angela parked her bike at the end of a long row, trying to make sure she wouldn’t get boxed in. Mia was on door duty, smiling winningly with the line of people dropping twenties into her cash box and flirting with Aaron, who sat beside her with a proprietary air.

Mia waved when she saw Angela. “Hey! I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

Angela smiled. “I wasn’t, but your mom dragged me out of the house. How’s the fundraising going?”

Aaron grimaced and Mia’s smile turned brittle. “It could be better.”

Angela fished an envelope filled with cash out of her pocket. “Here, see if that helps.”

Mia started counting. “Holy mother of...AJ! Where did you get this?”

Aaron took the envelope from Mia and counted. “Did you kill somebody?”

“My sister sent me some cash to help me set up a new house. I figured I have a job. I don’t need handouts.”

“What does your sister do?” Mia asked.

Angela looked at the envelope filled with money taken off drug runners when Maria had taken over South America. “She’s in law enforcement.”

“I’m going to be a cop when I grow up,” Aaron announced. “This is bank.”

“Will it help?”

Mia nodded eagerly. “This gets us a lot closer. Thank you.” Salsa music wafted out into the sultry evening air.

“You should go dance,” Aaron said. “My brother’s in there complaining because no one knows how to tango.”

Angela laughed. “And I’m supposed to find him how? Is he wearing his helmet?”

“Can you tango?” Aaron asked.

“I learned in college. There was a competitive dance team. It was basic stuff, but it was fun.”

“Go inside!” Mia ordered. “No one’s dancing. It’s worse than a freshman social.”

“I’ll tell my brother to come say hi to you!” Aaron called after her.

As soon as she opened the door, Angela was hit by the smell of grilling meat and hot chiles. All the tables had been pushed to the side to open up the dance floor, but everyone was avoiding it. Shrugging off her riding jacket, Angela worked her way through the crowd, searching for Luiz.

“AJ!” Luiz’s hand waved over heads. “Over here!”

“Hey,” Angela said as she pushed her way to the bar past a group of men arguing the baseball season. “You’ve got a good turnout.”

“Everyone’s paying minimum cover,” Luiz said. “The Salsa Bar takes five per head, plus the cost of food, so five people make a hundred dollars.”

Angela did a quick head count. “You’re going to need another fundraiser.”

“Don’t I know it!” Luiz took her drinks from the bartender and paid him. “We staked out a table over in the corner. Here, take this.” She shoved a pink drink into Angela’s hand and led the way.