Karma Girl Part 8

weren't too monstrous, and got the heck outta Dodge. With my shopping complete for the next two months, I went home to change.

That night, I suffered through another boring society soiree, the annual fundraiser for the Bigtime Symphony Orchestra, held at the s.p.a.cious and lavish Bigtime Convention Center and Orchestra Hall.

Naturally, the fundraising committee had chosen a musical theme for the event. Plastic music notes, paper pianos, and cardboard violins dangled from the ceiling, while members of the orchestra played cla.s.sics by the likes of Mozart and Bach.

All the usual suspects attended. Sam Sloane and his supermodel of the week. Fiona Fine wearing her latest sequin-covered monstrosity. Even Morgana Madison came out for the event.

I tapped my finger against my champagne gla.s.s. This was supposed to have been my night off, but Sandra had called in sick. Instead of working on uncovering Striker's ident.i.ty, I'd been called in to cover another bit of society fluff. I'd done my interviews and taken notes in record time. All I needed was a quote from the orchestra's conductor, and I could go write my story. I wandered through the orchestra pit, where the bar had been set up, waiting for the conductor to finish schmoozing with his rich patrons before I pounced on him.

"I didn't realize they let just anyone into these things," Fiona sniffed. The tall blond elbowed me out of the way and ordered a double gin and tonic.

"h.e.l.lo, Miss Fine," I said in a sweet, sugary tone that would rot teeth. "It's good to see you again too.

Tell me, did you make your dress yourself, or did it come out of a paint-by-numbers catalog?"

Fiona's pink lips pressed together. Too bad her face didn't crack from the strain. I glared at the haughty fas.h.i.+on designer, daring her to make a scene. I wasn't afraid of these people, and I wouldn't be cowed by them. Not anymore. I didn't even care if I kept my lousy job on the society beat. Let the editors at The Expose fire me for offending Fiona Fine. The threat of being dumped into a vat of radioactive goo made my other trials and tribulations pale in comparison.

"Carmen, what a pleasant surprise," Chief Newman's deep brogue cut in.

Fiona gave the police chief a heated look, grabbed her drink, and flounced away. The chief appeared at my elbow. He had traded in his usual subdued suit and tie for a brand-new tuxedo. He looked quite distinguished, and many of the wealthy widows eyed him like hungry vultures flying over a piece of fresh meat.

"h.e.l.lo, Chief. Good to see you."

Newman lowered his voice. "Listen, I know it's a lousy time to talk business, but I want you to come down to the station tomorrow and take a look at a couple of bodies we found out by the marina."

"Bodies? Why?"

"They might be your two kidnappers. They match your description."

"How did they die?" I asked.

"They froze to death in one of the big fish freezers down by the docks."

For a moment, my vision fuzzed over. I shook my head, and the world returned to normal. Still, I couldn't stop the chill slithering up my spine.

"They probably got drunk and wandered into the freezer by accident. We found several beer cans at the scene. The coroner says their blood alcohol levels were off the charts."

I knew better. Frost's icy handprints covered this one. My inner voice chattered. He'd murdered his two henchmen. The question was, why? Had they stepped out of line? Or were Frost and the rest of the Triad trying to send me a message?

KarmaGirl.

"Are you ready for me, Miss Cole?" The conductor, a thin man with a receding hairline, interrupted our conversation.

I felt stiff, frozen inside. Every movement was an effort. "Sure thing, Mr. Muzicale. I'll see you tomorrow, Chief."

"Just come by when you get a chance. I'll be in all day." The chief strolled away. Matronly, marriage-minded society types trailed after him like sharks drawn to blood in the water. I focused my attention on the balding conductor and plastered a big, fake smile on my face.

"Tell me, Mr. Muzicale. What does the Bigtime Symphony Orchestra have on tap for patrons this season?"

Two hours later, I put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on my story and sent it to the society editor. After getting the usual response, I walked over to Henry's desk. He wore his typical sweater vest, khakis, and bow tie.

Henry had skipped right over his youth. He wasn't even thirty yet, but he already dressed like an old man.

His nose hovered next to the flickering computer monitor. His fingers danced over the keyboard in a rapid, staccato rhythm.

"Henry? Henry?"

No response. I put a hand on his shoulder. A static shock sparked and cracked between us.

"Yikes!" Henry jumped a foot out of his chair. "You scared me!"

"Sorry for the interruption." I shook my tingling hand. "I was wondering if you had compiled that list for me."

Henry blinked. "Sure. I've got it here somewhere. Let me check."

He dug through a tall stack of papers. Minutes ticked by. I frowned. Even though his desk was Chaos Central, Henry could usually find a pin in less than a second. What was up with him?

Ten minutes later, Henry yanked a thick binder out from under a pile of half-empty, take-out Chinese cartons on the back of his desk. I wrinkled my nose. The paper containers reeked of two-week-old General's Chicken.

"Here you go. All the info on the fifty wealthiest citizens of Bigtime."

"Thanks, Henry." I stuffed the binder into my purse. "By the way, did someone named Lulu call you?"

Henry pushed his gla.s.ses up his nose. "Yes, yes, she did."

"And what did you think of her?"

"She seemed like a very nice woman."

I arched an eyebrow. "A nice woman? A nice woman you might take to dinner if you could tear yourself away from your computer long enough?"

Henry fiddled with his gla.s.ses again. "Um, well, you see . . ."

"Never mind, Henry. I'll let you two work it out. I just wanted to make sure she'd called you and got the ball rolling."

Henry and Lulu had made contact. My inner voice whispered with satisfaction. The rest would take care of itself. Who knew? Maybe Lulu could introduce Henry to Bella Bulluci's men's collection and get rid of those horrid polka-dot bow ties. Or at least get him to stop wearing stripes with them.

I told Henry good night and made my way through the gauntlet to the elevator. I rode down to the ground floor, brushed past the doorman, and hurried out onto the sidewalk.

"Hey, baby. Where you off to? Why don't you come over here and sit on Daddy's lap?" my familiar hara.s.ser cooed from his stoop.

KarmaGirl.

"Get a life, loser," I snapped and kept walking.

After two blocks, I stopped. A faint scuffle sounded behind me. I turned, but there was no one on the deserted street. I didn't even see any headlights coming in my direction.No people, no cars, nothing. A s.h.i.+ver slid up my spine. I eased a hand down into my purse and grabbed my pepper spray. I continued on, quickening my strides.

The uneasy feeling continued for several more blocks. My inner voice murmured, and I knew who was, well, stalking me.

"Oh come out," I snapped. "I really hate playing hide-and-seek, especially with superheroes. You're all so much better at it than I am. It's so not fair."

I scanned the long, dark shadows. I squinted hard, but saw nothing unusual, just walls and parked cars and expired meters. "Well, are you going to show yourself or not?"

A couple of college-age kids with backpacks slung over their shoulders plodded down the steps of the Bigtime Public Library. They heard the tail end of my conversation with my invisible friend, because they gave me a wide berth and giggled as they pa.s.sed. They probably thought I was some drugged-out hooker talking to myself. They disappeared around the corner. More laughter floated on the air.

I tapped my shoe on the pavement. It had been a long day, and I was exhausted. I didn't want to play any games tonight. "h.e.l.lo? Is anyone out there? Striker?"

He didn't appear. After a long, tense moment, I let out a breath. If Striker wanted to follow me home, so be it. I couldn't stop him. If he was even out there to start with. Maybe I was just imagining things due to my odd, intense desire to see the s.e.xy superhero again.

I turned around to continue my trek home. Striker stood in front of me.

I shrieked and stumbled back. My heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. My arms windmilled. My body tilted backward. I closed my eyes, bracing for the inevitable, painful impact.

It never came. I opened my eyes. Striker had caught me. The superhero loomed over me. His arms supported my back, and he held me like we were ballroom dancers frozen in an elegant dip. His hot breath brushed against my cheek as soft as a b.u.t.terfly's kiss on my feverish skin. He smelled of musk and the cool night, and his leather costume felt smooth and supple under my grasping fingers. Striker's firm, hard thigh lodged between my legs. He s.h.i.+fted his weight, rubbing my thighs ever so slightly. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s tightened at the sensual contact, and a warm sensation flooded my veins. I couldn't breathe.

Striker's eyes widened. Hot, electric blue sparks flared to life in their silvery depths. A current snapped and hummed between us. For a mad, mad moment, I thought Striker might lean in and kiss me, capture my lips with his. I parted my own. I wanted him to. Oh, how I wanted him to. Every molecule of my overheated body screamed at him to do it.

Striker pulled me upright. His hands slid down my back, scorching my skin through my jacket and the thin silk of my dress. He held on to me a moment longer than necessary, then dropped his hands. My head felt light and airy as a cloud. I didn't know if I was dizzy from the abrupt change in elevation or from the feel of Striker's strong arms around me. Maybe both.

"Don't do that," I snapped, trying to hide my hormonal flare-up. "Do you want to give me a heart attack?"

Striker shrugged. "Sorry. You said to come out. I was just waiting for the kids to go by. How did you know I was following you?"

"It was quiet. Too quiet," I said in a deep, serious voice.

Striker folded his arms over his chest.

KarmaGirl.

"It was a dark and stormy night?" I tried again.

He looked up. The moon glittered like a giant opal in the sky.

"I just knew, okay?"

Curiosity filled Striker's eyes, but I didn't feel like explaining myself. He had his secrets, I would keep mine. Including the fact I was desperately, dangerously attracted to him.

"So are you going to walk me home or what?" I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. "It's rather cold. I'd really hate to get frostbite and rob Malefica and Frost of their chance to turn me into a monster."

Striker gestured at the deserted street. I began to walk, and the superhero fell in step beside me, sliding from shadow to shadow like the creature of the night he was. A block went by, then another, then another. I wasn't sure what to say to him, given the way our last conversation had gone. It hadn't been a smas.h.i.+ng success.

"So, how was your day?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"How was your day? Bust any more drug runners? Apprehend any thieves? Have any building-leveling fights with ubervillains?"

"Why do you ask?" Suspicion colored Striker's deep voice.

I closed my eyes a moment, letting his rich tone wash over me. Even his voice was s.e.xy. "I'm just making conversation. That's what people do, you know. There's no ulterior motive. I promise."

"Well, I got up this morning, went to work-" He stopped.

"Went to work and what?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Well, what did you do after work?"

"I can't tell you that either."

"Well, what did you have for lunch?" I snapped. "Surely that's not top secret superhero information."

"Steak with mashed potatoes and a side salad," Striker replied. "And a piece of chocolate cheesecake for dessert."

I gave up on conversation after that. I was too jealous of the cheesecake to continue.

We strolled along. I looked at Striker. His silvery eyes glowed like a cat's in the twilight, and his hair glistened under the fluorescent streetlights. My gaze traced over his lean, muscled form. His black leather suit clung to his body like a second skin. The man certainly filled it out well. My eyes dipped lower. In all sorts of places. My cheeks flushed. Despite the chill in the air, I felt very warm.

Focus, Carmen, focus. I pulled my thoughts back to the matter at hand. Striker knew what I was up to.

So why had he sought me out? He should have been busy burying all traces of his real ident.i.ty from my prying eyes. Instead, he walked me home like we were a couple of teenagers out on a date. Maybe he'd mistaken me for a little old lady who needed help crossing the street. I bit back a laugh. Not likely.

Several minutes later, we arrived at my apartment building, and I still hadn't come up with any answers to my burning questions. Or a way to cool this sudden s.e.xual fire inside me.

"Well, here we are," I said. "Home, sweet home. Thanks for the company."

"You know, you really shouldn't walk on the streets at night by yourself," Striker said. "It's not very safe, especially now that Malefica has targeted you."

"Yeah, well. It's cheaper than taking a cab all the time. Some of us have to live within our means."

"Why do you say that?"

I eyed Striker's supple leather suit and the two swords that peeked up over his shoulder. "Your getup KarmaGirl.

there probably costs more than everything I own put together. It's obvious you're not a poor man, Striker. If I had to guess, I'd say you're just another bored billionaire who does this for kicks in his spare time. Right? Tell me, are you hooked on the adrenaline rush or just a slave to the n.o.ble idea of making the world a better place?"

Striker's eyes darkened to a stormy gray. He didn't reply. Ah, so I'd hit the nail on the head. Perhaps Henry's list would be more useful than I thought.

I fished my keys out of my battered purse. "Did you want something else? It's been a long day, and I'd like to go inside and get some sleep."

"The reason I followed you tonight was to offer you protection," Striker muttered.

My mouth dropped open. "Protection?"

"Yes. We can protect you from Malefica and the rest of the Triad until we figure a way out of this mess."

All I could do was just stare at him. Then, reality kicked in. "How could you protect me? Put me up in a safe house somewhere with round-the-clock guards?" I shook my head. "Sorry, I've read that story before. Everything would be fine for a while. But one day, your guard would be down, and Malefica would come for me. Besides, I can't go into hiding and keep my job. Like I said before, I'm not independently wealthy. Protection isn't really an option for me."