So Not a Hero (18 page)

I could have hauled him in. Even without a currently active EAPF warrant, the authorities would be overjoyed to finally get their hands on the elusive Doctor Maniac. Of course, I’d have to have some way to prove that’s who he was. There were no pictures of Martin anywhere and, as far as I knew, only about a half dozen people knew his name and face. He might remain incarcerated for a few days, a week at the absolute most. Then he’d be free and not even I would be safe from the wrath that would follow.

Alexis’ sunshine-soaked voice chirped in my ear, cutting into the brooding. “Hey, girl. Where are you?”

I sighed and answered. “Ten blocks from HQ.”

“Good. I’m almost done here so I’ll just meet you there. Greg said we could end our shift early so we’d have time to eat before we went shopping.”

I winced. “You didn’t tell him I had a date with Kurt did you?”

There was complete silence for several seconds. Then the teen came back on, this time a little less cheery. “Well, no. I didn’t say anything about it at all. But I think Darla might still be mad about you punching her because she told
everyone
.”

CHAPTER 12: JUST LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE

“You look awesome,” Alexis said, a gigantic smile on her face. “Detective Sexy isn’t going to know what hit him.”

I turned and looked in the mirror. The girl looking back at me seemed so anxious I couldn’t tell if she was going to float on air or projectile vomit.

I’d let Alexis drag me back to the mall so I could try on forty or fifty different outfits in over a dozen stores. The teen might have been a dervish practically spinning me in and out of dresses and skirts, but she was attentive enough to know something was wrong. After we left the third boutique, she led me to a bench near the wishing fountain and made me sit. She plopped down beside me and looked into my eyes. “Am I being too spazzy?” she asked. “We can totally just leave if you want.”

I patted her hand and shook my head. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re having too much fun with this and I … I need the distraction.”

“What’s wrong? Did Greg or Richard say something to you about going out on a date with the EAPF?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I sort of, maybe kinda, ran into my ex earlier.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Oh. My. God. Where? When?”

“Downtown,” I said. “Right after we got that kid Bobby loaded onto the transport. I was heading back to the tower and ran into him.”

She grinned. “He’s all jealous, isn’t he? You’re a big shot hero now. I bet he asked you to get back together with him didn’t he?”

Had he? While I was sure that if I’d agreed to make his triplet fantasy come to life he wouldn’t complain, did Martin really want me back? Not that it would ever happen. Of that I was absolutely positive.

Mostly.

I shook my head. “No. He was with a … he’s moved on. I think.”

“Well, if you ask me, you’re better off. Any guy who doesn’t think you’re a catch is crazy.”

Yes, of that I had no doubt.

I stood up and looked down at her. “Come on,
Lexi-chan
,” I said using the nickname I’d recently bestowed upon her. “Find me something that will take Kurt’s breath away. Or at least give him a raging boner.”

The teen giggled, covering her mouth with one hand, and then the shopping whirlwind resumed.

We eventually agreed upon an emerald green, A-line dress with a sleeveless halter top. The upper half fit snugly enough to support and accent the girls without squishing, and the bottom flared out just above the knee. It was both fetching and conservative. I had originally complained that it was too loose in multiple spots to be practical. The teen had countered by insisting that it had to be possible for me to go one evening without running into any Enhanced trouble.

I slipped my feet into the matching flats we purchased from the same store. Alexis had protested repeatedly that heels would be better, but I reminded her that my increased density meant that a misstep could put a hole in concrete. Or possibly Kurt’s foot. I turned left and right as I examined myself and then pushed my hair off my neck. “Think I should wear it up?”

The teen tapped her finger against her lips in contemplation and then nodded. “Yes. But to the side, though. I have a barrette that will go great with the dress. Hold on a sec.” She turned and ran through the wall, returning a few moments later with a silver hair clip adorned with imitation emeralds. I held my hair to the side with one hand as I secured the strands in place with the clip.

“Perfect,” she squealed. “You look beautiful.”

I smiled and turned to my reflection again. I had to admit that I did look pretty damned good, despite the butterflies gnawing at my insides. I only hoped that Kurt would feel the same way.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Amalfi’s Italian Eatery was a quaint building nestled in among the four- and five-story buildings of Charlotte’s cultural district. As I came up the sidewalk to the restaurant, Kurt stood from the stone bench he’d been using and gave me a wide smile. “You look … beautiful,” he said as he gave me a very chaste examination. I reminded myself that he’d seen me at my worst—twice even—and that helped settle some of my nervousness.

“Thank you,” I answered, taking the moment to do a little sightseeing of my own. The light blue polo and khaki slacks fit him perfectly and showed off a more athletic physique than I’d noticed under his business suits. He hadn’t shaved, but the little trace of stubble running along his jaw made him look rugged rather than scruffy. He noticed the attention and smirked, running his hand along his cheek.

“Yeah. I was worried about being late and-”

“I like it,” I said, cutting him off. I forced my hand to stay by my side to resist the urge to run my fingers over his jaw.
Too soon for that, Karen
.

A little color rose in his cheeks and he extended an arm. “Shall we?”

I allowed him to lead me through the doors into a large room that smelled as if someone had bottled Italy and then liberally used it as an air freshener. The aroma of garlic and oregano wafted all around, tantalizing the senses without overpowering. A stone podium stood guard between the entrance and the dining area beyond. The black and brass sign affixed to the front of it asked that patrons please wait to be seated. And on two comfortable-looking benches nearby, several people did just that, all of them seeming eager for their turn to come.

Kurt and I approached the cheerful-looking teen behind the stand. The handsome detective informed her that we had a reservation, and it only took a moment for the girl to scan the list, nod her head, and scoop up a pair of menus from the table beside her. “Right this way, Mr. Braddock,” she said, turning to guide us through another doorway into the dining room. We followed and stepped into another part of the world.

The décor was pure Mediterranean and looked like pictures I’d seen of Tuscan villas. The floor was stone tiles of various shades and shapes, forming a haphazard mosaic pattern. The walls were a dark yellow color, punctuated at intervals with thick wooden planks stained a dark earthen tone. Shelves of the same type of wood stuck out in multiple locations. Some of them held vases with flowers, others had decorative objects like copper watering cans and weathered garden tools. The far wall had a large, open window into the kitchen, providing an entertaining view of busy chefs and the slightly muffled sounds of organized chaos taking place.

Every table in the spacious dining room was taken with customers who were either awaiting their meal, in the process of devouring the delicious-smelling dishes, or taking a few minutes respite after gorging themselves. Not a single individual looked unhappy or displeased.

The hostess led us away from the crowded dining area to a table on the back patio which overlooked the fountains and walkways of City Center Park. Kurt put his hand on the back of a chair and pulled it out for me. When I hesitated, he smiled. The more he did that, the more I realized I liked it. “Don’t worry,” he said. “All of the furniture here is dura-steel reinforced. Nick, the owner, is an Enhanced durable himself.”

“Ok.” I said, placing my bottom in the seat. Kurt walked around to his own chair as the hostess handed us each a thick menu and promised our server would be along soon. I was very impressed that the good detective had anticipated my need for a tougher-than-normal chair. I could hear Alexis whispering “bonus points” in my head. I had to agree.

Less than a minute later, our server—a twenty-something with bright streaks of blue running through her brown hair—arrived and asked if we wanted a pre-meal beverage. Then her mouth dropped open and the pointed at me. “Holy crap! You’re Kayo.”

I nodded, looking around nervously. A couple nearby turned to see what the fuss was about. Denying it would have been futile. “That’s me.”

“I used to think you were super awesome back when you were Crushette. Of course, I was going through this rebellious phase with my step-mother. You know how it is.”

I didn’t have a step-mother. But my own family relations were far from the stuff of Hallmark cards. “Must have been tough.”

She nodded. “Then you went to jail and I started following that hero Whirlwind, but then she quit to have kids or something. And now you’re back, only this time as a Good Guy.” She thrust her pen and pad out towards me. “Can I get your autograph? Please?”

“Uh,” I looked over at Kurt. His expression shifted between amusement at my newly-discovered fame and annoyance, probably because our conversation was interrupted. “Sure,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him. I scribbled my name on the pad and then handed it back to her. “There. Any chance we could order?”

“Order? Oh! Yeah.” The girl twirled the pen in a circle around her temple. “Sorry for spacing out like that. What can I get you?”

“Uh,” I said, flipping open the menu and hastily making a choice. “Small chef salad, no egg. With the low-fat balsamic dressing on the side.”

Kurt’s menu had remained closed the entire time we’d been seated, but the order rolled off his tongue as if by memory. “I’d like the veal piccatta with steamed vegetables. And a bottle of Chianti, thanks.” Then he looked across the table at me, mischievous grin in place. “I never would have guessed you as one of those girls.”

“Excuse me,” I said, arching a brow. “One of what girls?”

“The ‘I-am-going-to-starve-so-I-don’t-gain-weight’ type.” He held up a hand. “I’m not judging you. Just observing.”

“Ever think I might not be that hungry?”

He nodded. “That is a possibility.” Something in his voice told me that he didn’t believe that. Probably because of the way my stomach had growled loudly on the way to our table.

I clenched my jaw and fought against the urge to see if I could push the menu
through
his chest. I turned my head slightly to the side and spoke to the waitress, not taking my eyes off Kurt’s. “Cancel that. I’ll have the chicken carbonara and a side salad with ranch.” The girl made the requested change on the pad and left.

I glared at the smirking detective. “My uniform damned well better fit tomorrow.”

He took a sip of his water, grin widening. “If it doesn’t, you could always fight crime in your panties.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you’ve seen enough of me doing that already.”

He gave a tiny shrug of one shoulder. “Oh, I could probably stand to see more.”

The waitress returned with the wine and poured a small amount in a glass for Kurt to taste. Then she moved to fill my glass and I stopped her before she could. “I’ll stick with water.”

Kurt gave me a curious look. “Are you sure you don’t want something stronger?”

I shook my head. “I tend to forget things when I drink.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I can rip a vault door off its hinges without a lot of effort. Too much booze and something like a simple handshake could turn into an emergency room event.”

He raised both eyebrows and nodded with a whistle. “Good point. I’ll wait until I’ve a power suit on before challenging you to tequila shots.” The waitress smirked a little as she topped off his glass and set the bottle on the table.

I let a small laugh escape at the image of Kurt in Mechanix-like armor. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, sharing brief and casual glances. I felt as if that awkwardness I’d feared was rearing its ugly head. Finally, after several agonizing minutes, Kurt sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking at me.

“Are you as rusty at this as I am?” he asked.

I held my breath for a second and then exhaled loudly and buried my face in my hands. “God yes,” I said through my fingers. “I feel like I’ve stepped into a foreign country where I don’t speak the language and my guidebook is written in Aramaic.” I peeked at him over the top of my fingers.

That charming smile was back on his face again. “Okay, so let’s take turns asking each other questions.” Then he held up a finger. “And we can have a pass on any that we really don’t want to answer. Sound good? It’ll kill the silence and keep us occupied through dinner.”

I nodded and took a couple of deep breaths. “Ladies first,” I said, trying to relax. “Why did you join the EAPF?”

He took a sip of the wine, apparently using the time as a buffer to formulate an answer. He set the glass down and looked at me with those light blue eyes. “I’m a third-generation cop. My grandfather was the Chief of Police for most of the Fifties. My dad was a Marine MP who came home from the first Gulf War and realized that he still needed that type of structure in his life. So he joined the CPD. I guess it’s in our blood.”

I arched a brow. “Okay, but why not follow them and join the CPD?”

He sighed. “Dad went Active in Ninety-Six. Enhanced strength. Only a low Class One, but still enough to be registered.”

I nodded. “Bet that made catching bad guys easier.”

The half-smile that had been playing on his lips faltered. “Yeah. Except … he got canned. The Enhanced were still a new thing. A lot of the other guys, guys he’d been friends with for years, didn’t want him around anymore.” His jaw clenched. “They didn’t want to put their lives in the hands of a ‘freak.’”

“I’m sorry.” The un-Enhanced never seemed to understand just how deeply that word cut, especially when spoken by people we thought were on our side. “What did he do?”