Heels and Heroes (11 page)

Pictures of Howler, Justice, and StrongArm covered the front page of the newspaper. She read through the article, and got nearly to the end of the story before she realized she gripped the paper so tightly her hands hurt.

It was all Justice, all StrongArm. No mention of her, of Char. No hint in the whole damn thing that someone other than Justice might have helped save the day.

She found her purse where she’d dropped it on the couch and yanked out her cell phone. No missed calls. No warnings or explanations from Justice. Nothing.

She flipped the phone open and found him in her contact lists, and then snapped it shut. No. This wasn’t a conversation she could have over the phone.

***

Justice threw the newspaper onto the table and cursed. He’d done his best to keep the reporters in the dark about Howler’s obsession with Silencer, knowing she wouldn’t like the speculation that might come with that information. But he had credited her as the main reason they’d been able to take down Howler. He should have known when the reporter blinked in confusion when he’d explained Silencer’s power that she might not think it impressive enough to mention in the article.

As if they could have taken down Howler without it or her.

Banging at the front door pulled him from his thoughts. The figure framed through the glass was familiar, and his stomach dropped.

Brenda didn’t say anything, but shoved past him to pace in the space between his dining room table and the back of the couch. He winced at the sight of her still-bruised face. The pink tinge to her skin and the hard line of her mouth made it clear she’d seen the article.

“How are you?” he blurted out, unable to stand her angry silence any longer.

“How am I?” she asked, voice tense. But she didn’t answer the question. Instead, she glared at him, jaw muscles twitching.

“Look, Brenda, I’m sorry. I know the article—”

“What? Didn’t credit anyone except you for taking down Howler? Of course you know about it! You were the source of the damn story!” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, some of the anger had drained from her expression. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t something you would do on purpose. I know that.” She nodded as if convincing herself as she spoke. “I should have given you a chance to explain. It’s just, after everything….”

He opened his mouth to tell her the truth; that he hadn’t left her out of the explanation. That the reporter had screwed the story up. But before the words left his mouth, he snapped it shut. He’d already hurt her, even in the short time they’d known each other well. She’d hurt him, too. Nothing was irreversible—yet. But if he explained and it worked out, he could lose her. Lose her to a super villain or in a less spectacular, but still permanent, way. He’d learned that the hard way. Was it worth the potential pain?

He looked at her, taking in her wide eyes, her healing split lip, the obvious unhappiness on her face.

Because of him.

If he told her, she’d forgive him, and he’d never get up the courage to leave. With her, he wouldn’t be able to go halfway. He already cared too much.

Caring deeply always ended in pain.

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “The reporter was hot.”

The slap rang out, seeming to echo off the walls. He glimpsed her tear-filled eyes and reached out to her, but she dodged and ran out the door.

The weight on his chest threatened to suffocate him and he tried to breathe. He’d known not telling Brenda the truth would hurt her, but he hadn’t realized the hole it would leave in his own chest.

He walked back to the bedroom and pulled the stack of pictures from his nightstand drawer, and pretended that the burning in his eyes wasn’t tears.

***

Brenda clutched the steering wheel of her car so tightly her hands ached. The night spent at her parents’ place was rough, even with their awkward sympathy. After rushing out of the house and taking her mother’s car, she could hardly pretend nothing happened. Hiding her emotions had also proved difficult, but showing themselves beyond considerate, her family hadn’t pressed her for information. Not that they needed to. All the particulars necessary to put it together were in that damn newspaper.

She parked in her usual spot and walked up to her apartment. Silence greeted her and she gritted her teeth. She could do this. She’d managed fine on her own before Justice appeared in her life. And she was a
hero
. Oh, she’d always had her superpower, but now she knew how strong she was. She’d taken out a super villain.

If nothing else, Justice had given her that confidence.

The vacuum drowned out her thoughts as she started on cleaning her home. Cleaning, she’d found, was a good distraction from almost any problem. She ran the machine through her room and back out into the living room, and then shut it off to scoot the coffee table out of the way. She took a step then stopped, staring dumbly at the man standing next to her couch.

Jeans and a T-shirt adorned his body. Her heart quickened, thumping against her chest. How could he be even sexier in casual clothes than he was in uniform? Life just wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but the door was unlocked, and you didn’t seem to hear me knocking.”

“What do you want?” She yanked on the vacuum cord and grimaced as it finally gave, whipping around the corner to smack into the hallway wall.

“Can we sit?” He shifted on his feet, and his lack of confidence suddenly made her think of the little boy in the pictures.

She frowned. “You can sit all you want. I have an apartment to clean.”

“Brenda,” he said, and then reached out and grasped her lightly by her shoulders, “please, just hear me out.”

She met his pleading eyes with a hard stare, but finally she gave a short nod. They sat on the couch, and she yanked her hands back when he tried to take them into his own. He winced, but didn’t try again.

“I lied to you.” He reached out and placed a finger on her lips when she opened her mouth to interrupt. “Please, let me get this out, okay?”

She shrugged and stared at the coffee table.
Fine
. If he needed to assuage his guilt to move on and leave her alone, it would be better than dealing with him repeatedly as he tried to get whatever it was off his chest. She wasn’t sure she could stand to see him all the time. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Yesterday, when you came to talk to me about the article, I lied and let you think I was attracted to that reporter and left you out of the story purposefully.”

“So what, you’re telling me she wasn’t your cup of tea now?” She’d seen the caption photo of the reporter. He had another think coming if he thought she was going to buy that.

He snorted. “And tell you another lie? No, she was pretty enough, but I wasn’t interested. I know it sounds like a cliché, but you’re the only woman I’ve had eyes for since we started this investigation. Well, before that, really, if I’m totally honest.”

She risked a quick glance at him, but he didn’t seem to be joking. She held out a hand, gesturing for him to continue with his explanation.

“You saw the pictures, in my nightstand?”

She opened her mouth to deny it, and then shrugged. “Yeah, I saw them.”

“I figured. They weren’t in the order I always keep them.”

Brenda frowned and looked at his face. But he wasn’t watching her anymore, his gaze had settled onto his hands sitting in his lap. Order? Nothing else in his house made her think he was neat enough to have an order to anything, let alone some old pictures.

“They were my family, as you’ve probably guessed. They….” He cleared his throat. “They died. When I was a teenager.”

Her mouth fell open, and before she could think, words tumbled from her mouth. “Oh God, Justice. I’m so sorry.” She pulled him close for a hug, but his arms stayed in his lap, so after a couple of seconds, she moved back. “Was it a super villain?”

He laughed, a short sound filled with no amusement. “Nope. Drunk driver. Took all three of them out.” He looked up at her, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “They were superheroes, Brenda, in every sense of the word. But their powers weren’t anything flashy, nothing that was able to save them from something so…mundane. That’s why I became a police officer, so I could help people hurt by non-supers, too.”

Justice reached to the end table behind him and grabbed a tissue from the blue box. He handed it to her, and she realized her cheeks were wet. She dabbed at them and muttered a thank you.

“I have other family—cousins, aunts and uncles. But I’ve never let myself get close to them. I always figured if I did, it would just hurt too damn badly when I lost one.” He took a deep breath. “It’s why I pushed you away yesterday, Brenda. I love you. But I’m scared to death I’m going to lose you, too. When I saw you on that hospital bed….” He shook his head. “That was my fault. My fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault!” she cried. “The only one responsible was Howler. You gave me the confidence to face him.”

“Exactly! If I hadn’t talked you into it—”

“Then what, Justice? More people would have gotten hurt, that’s what. You helped me get the confidence to save people; then you saved me when Howler was trying to beat me to death.” She took in a ragged breath. “You were there when I needed you. If you hadn’t been, I might be dead. Other people—innocent people—could have paid for it with their lives.”

Some of the bleakness faded from his expression. “We did kick his ass, didn’t we?”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “We did.” Tentatively, she took one of his hands and held it with both of her own. “And I love you, too.”

Justice lifted her off the couch and kissed her, softly to avoid hurting her still-healing lip, until her head spun. When he finally set her down, her heart raced for a very different reason than when he’d barged into her apartment.

His face close to hers, he leaned in and grazed her ear with his lips, and then whispered, “Say you’ll be with me.”

She pulled her head back and met his gaze with her own. “I’m not going to stop being a superhero,” she said. “I can’t give up part of myself so that you can be sure I’m safe.”

“Of course not. You might just have to put up with me at your side from time to time.” He grinned at her, and her heart warmed.

“I guess I can handle that,” she said, hope and love and other emotions she couldn’t identify bubbling out of her chest.

Justice whooped and pulled her close. And she knew she was home.

~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

Tiffany currently lives in Phoenix, AZ, by way of Chicago and Denver, and is happily married to a secret romantic. She spends her days working in Corporate America while daydreaming about sexy heroes, ass-kicking heroines, and interesting ways to kill people (for her books, of course). Her nights are reserved for writing and bothering her husband and cats (according to them). Her passions include reading, chocolate, travel, wine, and family.

You can visit Tiffany at:

http://tiffanyallee.com

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