HOT MAMA
By Jennifer Estep
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2007, 2011 by Jennifer Estep
Excerpts from KARMA GIRL and JINX
Copyright © 2007, 2008, and 2011 by Jennifer Estep
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to fictional characters or actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The fictional characters in this story have no relation to any other fictional characters, except those in works by this author.
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HOT MAMA
by
Jennifer Estep
Book Two in the
Bigtime paranormal romance series
Sexy superheroes. Evil ubervillains.
Smart, sassy gals looking for love.
DEDICATION
To my mom, the best person I know.
And to Andre, who coined the phrase “So, are you going to eat that?”
PART ONE—WEDDING BELLS
Chapter One
My wedding day.
It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. A time of joy and celebration and new beginnings. The day every girl dreams of from the time she’s old enough to play dress-up in her mother’s clothes.
It was exactly that sort of day.
Joy. Hope. New beginnings.
But it wasn’t mine.
Carmen Cole twirled in front of the full-length mirror. Her white satin wedding dress swung out in an arc then gathered back in on itself. Thousands of Swarovski crystals dotted the fitted bodice and full skirt, giving the dress a shimmering, ethereal air. A matching crystal necklace sparkled like a ring of stars around her neck.
“How do I look, Fiona?” Carmen turned her blue eyes to mine.
I hated to admit it, but Carmen looked fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. A rosy flush tinted her cheeks. Excitement brightened her eyes. Even her auburn hair glistened underneath her simple lace veil.
“You look fabulous. After all, you’re wearing a Fiona Fine original.”
Carmen frowned at her reflection. “I know it’s one of your more subdued designs, but I still think it’s a little much.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. An errant spark flew from my thumb and landed on the beige carpet. I squashed it with my stiletto. A little much? Please. If Carmen had gotten her way, she would have worn holey jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a ratty T-shirt with some cutesy saying on it to the wedding.
Luckily, hotter heads had prevailed. Mine. Then again, it was easy to get your way when you had the ability to shoot fire out of your fingertips. Getting my way was one of the prime benefits of being a superhero. My favorite benefit.
Just because I moonlight as a superhero doesn’t mean that I can’t be a little selfish—or enjoy the perks of having superpowers. Usually, I’m perfectly happy just being Fiera, one of many superheroes in Bigtime, New York, fighting evil, cracking skulls, and making life miserable for all those pesky ubervillains who want to take over the city, then the world. But every once in a while, I enjoy showing off my fiery skills, especially when it’s for the greater good, such as making sure Carmen didn’t look like a bag lady at her own wedding.
A knock sounded on the door, the knob turned, and Lulu Lo zipped her motorized wheelchair into the room. A royal-blue dress covered her slender form, bringing out the smoothness of her porcelain skin and the cobalt streaks in her spiky black hair. Since we were both bridesmaids, I wore a matching gown, but with a few modifications—a lower bodice, a tighter fit, and a higher slit up the side.
“Nice dress, Sister Carmen.” Lulu whistled. “That’ll make Sam sit up and take notice.”
Carmen grinned. Another spark shot out from my thumb. Sam had already taken plenty of notice of Carmen, despite my efforts to the contrary. The two of them were always sneaking off to have wild sex in some corner of the manor house.
“Of course Sam will notice,” I snapped. “I designed the dress. Ours too, if you’ll remember. They’re all fabulous.”
“Well, you do look very hot, Fiona.” Lulu laughed.
I glowered at Lulu. Just because I was a member of the Fearless Five, one of the most esteemed superhero teams in the world, didn’t mean that I didn’t get snarly from time to time—or that civilians like Lulu had the right to poke fun at me.
Of course, none of this would be happening if Carmen, aka Karma Girl, hadn’t insisted that we tell Lulu our secret, superhero identities. Carmen had argued that Lulu deserved to know the truth, since she’d helped save us from the Terrible Triad, a group of ubervillains. Lulu was also the main squeeze of Henry Harris, aka Hermit of the Fearless Five, and he’d wanted to tell her the truth as well. The other two members of the Fearless Five, Sam “Striker” Sloane and Sean “Mr. Sage” Newman, had agreed with Carmen.
So the four of them told Lulu everything, despite my protests. Once the shock wore off, Lulu ingratiated herself with the rest of the Fearless Five. Now, everybody else treated her like one of the gang. She even had her own room in the top-secret, underground compound with the rest of us.
I ignored Lulu whenever possible. It was bad enough that she knew our real identities. I didn’t want to invite her any more into our lives. Lulu was a computer hacker. She did all sorts of highly illegal things, like breaking into the FBI mainframe and swapping corporate secrets, but nobody cared except me. Not even my father, the esteemed police chief of Bigtime, as well as a member of the Fearless Five.
In return for my blatant hostility, Lulu zinged me with heat-related puns whenever we crossed paths. Fiona’s hot. Fiona’s smokin’. Fiona’s on fire. Like I hadn’t heard them all a hundred thousand times before. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Lulu could have at least come up with something original, if she was going to mock me on a daily basis.
My eyes fixed on Lulu’s hair. I could turn those blue streaks red in a heartbeat. Heat pulsed through my body. My fingers twitched. Just one little spark . . .
“Fiona,” Carmen warned. “There will be no flare-ups today. You promised Sam.”
I had promised Sam. And my father. And Henry. And even Carmen. Three times each. I let go of the fire coursing through my veins and banked it deep inside me. It didn’t matter anyway. Carmen would have just done her empathy thing and used the ambient energy in the room to buffer Lulu and herself from my heat. Carmen had the ability to tap into other people and use their own energy against them. I hated her power, mainly because I hadn’t figured out a way to counteract it yet. Most of the time, I either punched or flambéed my way through danger. But I couldn’t do that with Carmen, because she gave just as good as she got.
Lulu smirked at me and motored away. She’d probably max out my credit cards or do some other devious, identity-theft thing as soon as the wedding ended. I didn’t know what Henry saw in her. Maybe he was just glad that he’d finally found someone who understood all the techno-babble he spouted on a daily basis.
Lulu left the door open, and classical music drifted in, along with the murmur of distant conversations. I eyed the clock on the wall. Five minutes to go. Good. The sooner this spectacle was over with, the better. I wasn’t in the mood for a wedding today. Not any day. Not anymore.
Carmen picked up on my dark thoughts and stared at me in the mirror. “I know this has been hard for you, Fiona. The engagement, the wedding, everything. I’m sorry. I wish things were different. I wish Tornado was still here . . .”
Her soft Southern twang trailed off under my hot gaze. Hard for me? She had no idea.
It’d been over a year since my fiancé, Tornado, had been murdered. Carmen had exposed the superhero’s secret identity as Travis Teague to the world, including our arch-enemies, the Terrible Triad. The ubervillains had killed Travis and used Carmen to get to the rest of us. We’d been captured, stuffed in glass tubes, and almost sucked dry of our superpowers, before Carmen had saved us by getting dumped into a vat of radioactive goo and developing superpowers herself.
Sometimes, I couldn’t believe the irony of it. Carmen exposing superheroes, becoming one herself, and now marrying one. Things never seemed to turn out the way you thought they would, especially in Bigtime.
Mostly though, I still couldn’t believe that Travis was gone. Forever. My heart twisted, and the burning fire inside me flickered and dimmed. My eyes dropped to the square, diamond engagement ring on my finger. Travis had given it to me a week before he’d died. I hadn’t taken it off since.
“Fiona? Are you okay?” Carmen asked.
I wasn’t. Not even close. But this was Carmen’s big day, and I didn’t want to ruin it for her.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “In fact, I was thinking that it’s time for me to get out and start dating again. I’ve done the men of Bigtime a cruel, heartless injustice, depriving them of my fabulous company all this time.” I tossed my long, blond hair over my shoulder for effect.
Carmen’s face lit up like I’d just hit her with a fireball between the eyes. “That’s wonderful, Fiona! Just wonderful!”
Her blue eyes grew cloudy and distant, the way they always did when she was listening to the strange whispers in her head. Carmen called them her inner voice, her instincts. I thought she had more than a few loose rocks rattling around in all that empty space.
“Maybe you’ll meet somebody at the reception,” she murmured.
I huffed. Please. I’d been active on the social scene ever since I’d moved to Bigtime some fifteen years ago, and I knew everybody invited to the wedding. There wasn’t a man among them that I’d date, let alone sleep with.
I twisted the ring on my finger. The silver solidium band heated up on my hot hand, and the diamond glowed like a tiny moon. Still, I would like to find somebody. It’d be nice to be part of a couple again. To laugh and talk and have dinner with someone who wasn’t a relative or an employee or a fellow superhero. To find somebody who looked at me the way that Sam looked at Carmen.
Plus, I liked sex. A lot. It sucked to go without.
My hand stilled. Maybe that’s what I should do. Get drunk at the reception, have a one-night stand with some anonymous guy to take the edge off, and then start looking for someone suitable. Someone more long-term. The only problem with my plan was that it would take an ocean of champagne to get me drunk, given my fast-burning metabolism. Well, it was a good thing Sam was richer than almost everyone else on the planet put together. He could afford a couple hundred thousand dollars’ worth of bubbly if it meant me getting lucky.
The music quickened and swelled, and the conversations faded away. The air hummed with energy and anticipation.
“Time to go.” Carmen smoothed down her billowing skirt. Her hand trembled just a bit.
I picked up her long train, careful not to singe the fabric with my fingers. I’d spent too much time sewing the damn thing to ruin it now. Carmen turned and grabbed my arm.
“Do you think this is the right thing to do? Do you think we should go through with it? Do you think we’re ready? You know how badly my last wedding turned out.” Panic filled her blue eyes.
Badly was the understatement of the century. Right before the wedding, Carmen had found her fiancé boinking her best friend and discovered that the two were her town’s resident superhero and ubervillain. That, of course, had set Carmen off on her little mission to expose the identity of every superhero and ubervillain who crossed her path. Which, of course, is how Carmen had met Sam and the rest of us. Karma, she called it. Destiny, kismet, fate. I just thought of it as bad luck on our part.
But I bit back the sarcastic retort I’d been ready to let loose. The nosy reporter had grown on me, despite my best efforts. And she had saved my life and everyone else’s. I owed her for that. Plus, it was my solemn duty as a bridesmaid to support the bride—even if Carmen occasionally made me want to put my fist through a wall.
“Do you love Sam?”
Carmen nodded. Some of the tension left her body. “With all my heart.”
“Then, it’ll be fine,” I said. “Sam loves you, and you love him. You’re going to have a fabulous wedding, a fantastic honeymoon, and a wonderful life together. Plus, you’re wearing a Fiona Fine original couture gown. And what could possibly be better than that?”
Chapter Two
After Carmen calmed down, we made our way through Sublime, Sam’s mansion on the outskirts of Bigtime. Roughly the size of a small country, the manor house contained just about every antique and art object known to man and superhero. Polished suits of armor, colorful paintings, detailed sculptures, exquisite tapestries. Even though I’d been prowling the halls for years now, the rich furnishings still impressed me. And it took a lot to impress me.
Carmen tiptoed her way through the manor, struggling to stay upright in her towering heels. I stalked along behind, holding up the train so it wouldn’t get snagged on a piece of furniture, and wishing the bride-to-be would move a little faster. I could always zing Carmen with a hot flash. That would get her moving. But I couldn’t risk ruining the gown. Not now. I’d already had to redo it twice because of some temperamental flare-ups on my part.
Carmen stumbled on the edge of an Oriental rug and almost fell on her face.
“Stupid shoes,” she muttered, glaring at me.
Her three-inch strappy sandals had been another hotly contested point between us. Carmen had wanted to wear these ugly, flat, ballet slippers that had gone out of style twenty years ago. I’d told her point-blank that she wasn’t wearing those monstrosities with a Fiona Fine wedding gown. She wasn’t ruining my hard work with her fashion faux paus. Of course, I had to roast most of Carmen’s wornout tennis shoes before she agreed to wear the sandals, but the important thing was that I, and designer fashion, had triumphed yet again.
“I don’t see how you walk in these things,” Carmen said, tugging on one of the white straps wrapped around her ankle.
“It’s easy,” I snapped. “Millions of women do it every day. Now quit whining and walk. You’ve got a superhero to marry.”
Carmen gave me another annoyed glance, but she shuffled forward. Despite Carmen’s time covering the Bigtime society beat, fashion wasn’t her forte. That was my domain. And I knew, like all good designers know, that no outfit is complete without a pair of killer shoes, preferably stilettos. The higher, the better.
After a couple more stumbles and a string of curses, we stopped in front of a pair of doors that led outside. Lulu sat there waiting, along with Chief Sean Newman. Sunlight streamed in through the glass, warming the alcove where we stood. The ceremony was taking place in the luscious gardens that surrounded the enormous estate, as befitting a traditional May wedding.
I peeked through the doors. Henry Harris, the best man, and Sam Sloane, the anxious groom, had already taken their places in front of the minister at the far end of the long aisle.
“Carmen, Fiona,” Chief Newman rumbled in his deep Irish brogue. “You both look beautiful.”
“Chief.” I kissed my father on the cheek.
I’d always called my father chief, ever since I was a little girl and had first seen him in his police uniform. It was a habit I continued out of necessity. Nobody knew about our family connection, except the other members of the Fearless Five and now Lulu. It was safer that way. Since people, and more importantly ubervillains, didn’t know about our relationship, they couldn’t kidnap and use us against each other, either in our real lives or as our superhero alter egos, Fiera and Mr. Sage.
The first notes of the classic wedding march sounded, and the hundreds of guests outside rose to their feet.
“Here we go,” Carmen whispered, her face pale and slightly sweaty.
“Heaven help us all,” I muttered.
Two ushers stepped forward, and the double doors creaked open. The chief took Carmen’s arm, while Lulu motored out. I waited for her to get halfway to the end before stepping outside and strolling along the rose-covered aisle.
A thick white carpet stretched three hundred feet toward a raised dais, which stood beneath an enormous trellis strung with silver roses and purple pansies. Oak and elm trees hovered in the background, providing splashes of green to the scene. Men and women dressed in dark tuxedos, sparkling gowns, and flashing jewels stood on either side of the aisle, adding even more color to the gardens. The sweet, thick scent of the flowers mixed with the men and women’s spicy colognes and heady perfumes. A full orchestra sat on one side of the dais, but their instruments couldn’t quite drown out the low, steady drone of bumblebees in the distance. The sun hung like a ball of orange sherbet in the evening sky, and a faint breeze ruffled my long hair. Late spring was a perfect time for a wedding.
My blue eyes traced over the area, drinking in the sights and sounds. Everything that I’d wanted for my own wedding was right here. Everything except Travis. I clutched my bouquet of roses and turned my engagement ring around.
I took my place next to Lulu and winked at Sam, trying not to look as sad as I felt. I was happy for him and Carmen, truly I was. But I couldn’t stop the pang of longing and jealousy that stabbed my heart with every beat of the soaring music.
The businessman-superhero gave me a nervous grin and tugged on his sleeves. With his dark hair and light, grayish eyes, Sam looked like he’d just stepped out of a men’s magazine.
So did Henry, for once. His glasses gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight, looking like two silver coins against his mocha skin. He flashed me a shy smile and yanked on his tie. Like Carmen, Henry would have worn his usual attire to the wedding—a rumpled sweater vest, plaid pants, and a polka-dot bow tie—if I hadn’t intervened. I’d had to melt a couple of the wires attached to his precious computers, but Henry had eventually seen things my way. Most people did, sooner or later. Especially when I turned up the heat.
The music swelled to a thundering crescendo, and Carmen stepped into view. Sam’s face grew soft and dreamy and dopey at the sight of her. I smiled. Too much? Please. Score another one for Fiona Fine Fashions.
My father escorted Carmen down the aisle. She beamed like a neon light. If she got any happier, she’d blow a bulb. A few people tried to catch her gaze, but the only one Carmen acknowledged was her friend Jasper, Bigtime’s resident mad bomber. Then, Carmen turned her attention to Sam, and the rest of the world fell away. She only had eyes for him, and he for her. The two of them couldn’t stop staring at each other. Cold envy frosted over my aching heart.
The music faded away, and the minister stepped forward.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . .”
#
Thirty minutes later, Carmen and Sam professed their true and undying love for each other. They kissed, everyone cheered, and the wedding ended. I half expected to see white doves and fluffy bunnies stampede down the long aisle, but thankfully, people just blew soap bubbles at the happy couple.
The blushing bride, handsome groom, and other members of the wedding party stayed in the garden to pose for the all-important, post-ceremony pictures. Meanwhile, the rich, distinguished guests drifted out onto the mile-wide lawn where hundreds of tables, gallons of champagne, and thousands of pounds of chicken cordon bleu and other choice foodstuffs waited. Waiters and caterers zipped through the crowd, dishing up food and drinks as fast as they could.
I spotted Kyle Quicke among the caterers. I’d gone to Bigtime University with Kyle, and his family owned Quicke’s, one of my favorite restaurants in Bigtime. I watched Kyle cut a slice of chocolate cake and hand it to a waiting guest. My stomach rumbled. I could use some food. A lot of food.
“Come on, Fiona. It’s time for the pictures,” the chief murmured in my ear, dashing my hopes of a stealthy getaway.
I rolled my eyes and turned back toward the dais.
#
Forty-five minutes later, I tapped my fingers on my arm. “How many pictures are you going to take?” I snapped at the photographer. Patience was not one of my virtues. In fact, I didn’t think it was any sort of virtue at all.
The short, fat man wilted under my hot gaze. Most everybody did. My eyes went to his digital camera. One little flare-up, and it would look like something that came out of a kiln. There’d definitely be no more pictures then . . .
“Fiona.” The chief’s blue eyes narrowed in warning.
I shot him a sour look and dampened my temper. That was the problem with your father being a psychic superhero. You could never get away with anything.
“Actually, I’m done with the wedding party. I just want to get a few more shots of the bride and groom,” the photographer said.
“It’s about bloody time,” I muttered.
I stomped out of the garden and onto the lawn. My stilettos sank into the damp earth, but I yanked up my feet and kept going. Another benefit of having superstrength. Henry, Lulu, and my father followed at a more sedate pace.
Most of the male guests had settled down at the tables and were busy stuffing themselves with chicken, spring vegetables, and fancy sourdough rolls baked in the shape of curling vines and flowers. Not so for the women. Every woman under sixty gathered around the wide, long bar, downing glass after glass of champagne. Some stared at nothing in particular. A few snuffled into their crystal flutes, while others dabbed at their runny mascara. They weren’t tears of joy. Quite the contrary. Three hundred women’s dreams of becoming Mrs. Sam Sloane had just been dashed by a lowly society reporter. It was more than enough to make the stoutest society matron weepy, depressed, and drunk as a skunk.
I shoved my way through the crowd, zapped a few people with hot flashes to make them move, and grabbed the biggest champagne glass I could find. Bubbles fizzed up in the golden liquid. I drained the glass and twitched my nose to ease the sudden tickling sensation. I didn’t need to sneeze flames in front of a thousand people.
“Fiona! Fiona Fine!”
I turned at the sound of my name and spotted Joanne James fluttering her hand at me. Joanne was a tall, skinny woman with a rather large chest and too-smooth features. Hair blacker than shoe polish brushed her slender shoulders, contrasting with the ropes of pearls that encircled her gaunt neck.
Oh boy. I was going to need something a lot stronger than champagne. I ordered a gin and tonic from one of the bartenders and downed two doubles before Joanne sashayed her way through the crowd to my side.
“Fiona, darling!”
“Joanne, darling!”
We airkissed the way that society women are supposed to. My eyes raked over Joanne’s outfit, a gunmetal-gray halter dress with a slinky, sequined skirt. Not bad, but it wasn’t one of mine. Joanne also sized me up, her gaze critiquing everything from my shoes to my chandelier earrings. Standard operating procedure among the women in Bigtime. Once that was out of the way, we made polite chitchat about how fabulous and thin we both looked before Joanne got down to business.
“I’m getting married again next month. I was wondering if I could come in and talk to you about another gown.”
I almost choked on my drink. “What will this one be? Number five?”
Joanne James went through husbands like they were tissues—she used one up and then tossed him aside for another.
“Six actually.”
“Who’s the lucky fellow?” My lips only twitched a little. It was amazing the things you could say with a straight face.
“Berkley Brighton, the whiskey billionaire.”
“Of course.”
Joanne James didn’t waste her time on small-time fish. She only went after the big, big catches. She was Bigtime’s resident black widow, but she didn’t kill her husbands. Instead, Joanne bled her hubbies dry, added their money to her own considerable fortune, and somehow managed to wiggle out of paying for anything—even her own divorce attorneys. In a way, it was her own personal superpower. Joanne was a legend in Bigtime, and more than a few society mamas urged their daughters to emulate her marriage merry-go-round.
“I thought you would have asked Bella Bulluci to design your gown. She did your last two, didn’t she?” I couldn’t resist the dig. Joanne had gone to Bella after complaining that my services were too expensive. As if. Fashion genius like mine was priceless.
Joanne swallowed some champagne. “To be honest, I did ask Bella first, but she turned me down.”
“Really? Why?”
Joanne waved her hand, and I squinted at the sudden glare. The diamond boulder on her finger could easily feed the people of a third world country for years. “Oh, she said she was taking some time off to concentrate on family affairs because of her father’s death. I think she just didn’t want to bother with it.”
Bella Bulluci was one of Bigtime’s most popular designers, next to me, of course. Bella had plenty of talent, but I’d always thought her creations were a bit conservative, tame even. Bella was very fond of solid colors and subtle pinstripes. I was more of a polka-dot, plaid, and leopard-print girl. All rolled into one. With neon sequins and a feather boa to match.
I signaled the bartender and ordered another drink. I didn’t like being anyone’s second choice, but my eyes strayed back to Joanne’s ring. That thing had to be at least ten flawless carats.
Being a superhero had plenty of perks, but there was one major drawback—it was a pricey occupation. We all had to pitch in to keep the Fearless Five out and about fighting crime. Carmen and Henry didn’t contribute much to our annual budget. They couldn’t with the pitiful paychecks they earned as newspaper reporters at The Exposé. My father wasn’t much better off. Even though he was the chief of police, his salary wasn’t what it should be, mainly because most of the city’s budget went to repairing the municipal buildings, bridges, and overpasses that us superheroes and ubervillains obliterated during our epic battles.
That left Sam and I to shoulder the monetary load. With his various business interests and billion-dollar bank balance, Sam gave the most for the greater good. But I chipped in at least five million every year. Sometimes more. Outfitting Joanne James with wedding gown number six would keep us all in black leather and orange-red spandex for the foreseeable future.
“Have your assistant call the store, and we’ll set something up for later this week,” I promised and downed my third gin and tonic.
Joanne smiled, her lips lavender against her pale face. “Fiona, darling, it’s always a pleasure doing business with you.”
We airkissed again and exchanged more meaningless pleasantries. Then, Joanne strutted back through the crowd to Berkley Brighton, a short, square man who’d made his fortune selling Brighton’s Best whiskey. Joanne latched on to his arm, and the pretty young things who’d been clustered around the boisterous billionaire scattered like minnows fleeing a hungry barracuda. Joanne wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with—especially when she was husband hunting. Berkley actually beamed at Joanne, happy to see his honey.
I snorted. Poor guy. He might as well just sign over his family’s secret whiskey recipe to Joanne right now. It would save him a lot of trouble and hefty lawyers’ fees down the road.
While I’d been talking to Joanne, Carmen and Sam had joined the festivities. They walked from table to table, greeting the wedding guests and basking in the afterglow of the ceremony. After paying their respects to the bride and groom, people finished their dinners and drifted out onto the tile dance floor that had been planted on the lawn for the grand occasion. A twelve-piece band to one side of the floor played a loud, brassy version of “The Right Thing To Do” by Carly Simon, Carmen’s favorite singer.
My eyes scanned the glittering crowd. Joanne and Berkley. Carmen and Sam. Henry and Lulu. Even my father was dancing with one of Bigtime’s rich, lonely widows. Couples, couples, everywhere. But no Travis.
No Travis.
The happy society scene and all the couples burned me out. I needed some peace and quiet. Now.
I shoved through the crowd, wrenched open a side door, and stomped inside the manor. The usual rich, shiny trappings greeted me, but for once, I didn’t pay attention to them. Sam wouldn’t like it if I accidentally melted some ancient knight’s suit of armor or fried another one of his Monets. The mood I was in, they’d go up like dry newspaper.
The music and laughter and happy sounds faded away, replaced by the thwack of my heels on the hardwood floors. I walked into one of the many game rooms that populated the manor and sank down onto the smooth leather couch. A big-screen TV took up one wall, while a pool table crouched in the middle of the floor. Dart boards and various other sportslike contraptions filled the rest of the area, but I didn’t really see them. I didn’t see any of it.
I twisted the ring on my finger. It wasn’t nearly as big as Joanne James’s was, but it meant the world to me, even now. Travis. My heart squeezed like a dishrag being wrung out.
“A beautiful bridesmaid alone by herself. What a sad, sad cliché,” a low, cultured voice called out.
I looked up. A man stood in the doorway. He topped out at just over six feet, with a mane of tawny blond hair that curled around the collar of his impeccable tuxedo. Flashing green eyes contrasted with his golden skin, making him look like a sleek lion in the gathering shadows. He strode into the room, his black suit flowing with easy grace around his perfect figure. It fit him well. Then again, just about anything would have looked good on him.
My eyes widened. If Sam resembled a male model, then this guy was the Goliath of male models. Yummy.
The man stared at me, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. The merriment dancing in his sharp gaze made him look that much better, even if he seemed to be making fun of me. I didn’t like people making fun of me, and I especially didn’t like being looked down on. I got to my feet and tossed my long hair back. With my stilettos, he only had half an inch on me.
“I’m not a cliché,” I snapped.
“Really? You were one of the bridesmaids, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sitting here all alone.”
“Yes.”
“And you certainly are beautiful.”
“Oh, yes.”
Modesty is another one of my nonexistent virtues. On a scale of one to ten, I’m a solid eight and a half. With my blond hair, blue eyes, and up-to-there legs, I’ve got the Barbie look men love down pat. The only problem is they think I’m as dumb as one of the plastic dolls. The same thing goes for my alter ego, Fiera. But more than one ubervillain had gotten badly burned by underestimating me.
Still, the compliment pleased me. Every woman likes to be told she’s beautiful, but coming from Mr. Model, it sounded . . . better. Truer. Sexier.
“If all that’s not a cliché, then I don’t know what is.” His voice was deep with a hint of an accent I couldn’t quite place. White teeth gleamed in his tan face, adding to his already staggering sex appeal.
I crossed my arms over my chest and flipped through my mental Rolodex of Bigtime society players. No match. He must be new in town. I certainly would have remembered him. My eyes drifted over his suit, which draped perfectly over his broad shoulders and chest. Oh yeah. I would have remembered him.
I suddenly realized that I was twisting the ring on my finger. Bloody hell. I’d gone from pining over Travis to ogling a complete stranger in the space of a minute. I really did need to get lucky before my hormones made me have a total meltdown. Literally.
The man continued. “You certainly looked sad and lonely sitting there, staring into space.”
“I was doing nothing of the sort.”
I couldn’t tell him that I’d been looking at the ring my murdered fiancé had given me before he’d died. My pain was my own. I didn’t go blabbing about it to strangers. Besides, no one except the Fearless Five had even known Travis and I were engaged. It was another little secret we’d decided to keep to ourselves.
“I was just taking a break from the festivities,” I replied in my best, cool, bored society voice. “All that happiness can be a bit grating after a while.”
“Really? You know we could create our own festivities, you and me.”
I stifled a laugh. That was one of the lamest lines I’d ever heard. “Really? And how could we do that?”
“Let me show you.”
He flashed me a devilish grin, pulled me into his arms, and planted his lips on mine.
Chapter Three
For a moment, I couldn’t believe it. Who the bloody hell did this jerk think he was, kissing me? I was Fiera, for crying out loud. Superhero du jour. Protector of the innocent. Defender of democracy. I could snap his neck like a pretzel stick. I could light his ass up like a firecracker with a mere thought.
I thought of doing both—at the same time. Then, something strange happened.
I realized that I liked kissing him.
A lot.
A whole lot.
He had fantastic lips. Soft, firm, smooth. He tasted like fizzy champagne and smelled of some subtle, spicy soap. The combination made my head spin more than the three drinks I’d just had.
At five-foot-nine, I’m no small, petite thing, but I felt dwarfed by him. His sculpted chest felt like sun-warmed stone under my hands, and his heart thumped under my clenched fingers. His arms held me securely in place. I opened my mouth to tell him something, I wasn’t quite sure what, and he dipped his tongue in. The taste of him, the feel of his mouth, his tongue on mine overwhelmed my senses. I felt like I’d been zapped with a couple dozen stun guns—all weak and twitchy.
He plundered my mouth like a pirate seeking buried treasure. Nibbling my lips. Skimming my teeth. Probing with his tongue. I couldn’t resist him, and I didn’t really want to. I’d been thinking about having a one-night stand. Let’s see how Mr. Model measured up.
So I opened my mouth wider, and my tongue met his. Then, I went on the offensive. Nibbling on his lips. Skimming his teeth. Probing with my tongue. He pulled me closer until I thought we would melt into each other. I certainly felt like I was on fire in more ways than one.
His fingers skimmed my neck and traced down to the tops of my breasts. He slid his hand inside the scooped neckline and stroked my chest. My nipples sprang to attention. His other hand went through the slit in the side of my dress and moved up my leg with quick, sure purpose. Damn, he didn’t waste any time. Smooth, sexy, and bold. I loved it. Absolutely loved it.
A warm, pleasant tingling started between my thighs and spread throughout my body. My stomach quivered the tiniest bit, and my breath came in soft gasps. My hormones had already kicked into overdrive. If he kept this up much longer, I’d have to throw him onto the couch instead of through the wall. Or on the floor. Or maybe on the pool table. It looked sturdy enough—
“Ahem.”
A cool, feminine voice dampened the liquid fire burning inside me.
“Ahem.”
The man sighed in disappointment against my mouth. He pressed his lips to mine once more, withdrew his hands, and stepped back. I tried not to stagger. I felt like I was drunk. And I never got drunk.
“Hello, Bella,” the man said. Regret tinged his deep voice, and his hot green gaze burned into me.
The intensity of his stare made me shiver, a rare thing for me.
I turned my head. Bella Bulluci hovered just inside the door. A forest-green dress of her own design clung to her curvy body, while a simple silver necklace accentuated her graceful neck. A small pair of angel wings dangled from the end of the chain. Bella’s foot tapped out a rapid pattern, smacking onto the wooden floor.
“Fiona.”
“Bella.”
I not-so-discreetly yanked the bodice of my dress back into its proper place. It didn’t have far to go, really.
Bella’s hazel eyes flicked to the man beside me. “Well, I see you’ve met Johnny.”
“Johnny?” So that’s what his name was.
“Johnny Bulluci. My older brother.”
“Your brother?”
“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.” Johnny strolled over to his sister and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek.
My eyes zipped back and forth between them. Side by side, the resemblance was obvious. Same tawny hair, same golden skin, same killer cheekbones. The only difference was their eyes. Bella’s were a soft hazel while Johnny’s were as green as polished jade. Johnny also had almost a foot on his sister. Bella was a bit on the short side.
Bella looked at me, then her brother. She shook her head and looped an arm around his waist. “Seducing another unsuspecting bridesmaid, brother dear?” she asked in a teasing tone.
“Make a habit of it, do you, Johnny?” I asked, smoothing down my skirt.
“Only with the exceptionally beautiful ones.” He winked.
I crossed my arms over my still-tingling chest. His sister had just caught us making out like a couple of sex-starved teenagers, and the man still had the nerve to wink at me. Johnny Bulluci had no shame. I rather liked that about him.
“Johnny’s moved back home from Greece,” Bella explained. “He’s been looking after our business interests overseas.”
So that’s why I hadn’t seen him around Bigtime before. It explained the accent too.
“He arrived in town several weeks ago, and I thought the wedding would be a perfect opportunity for him to meet and mingle. I didn’t know he was going to disappear. I should warn you, Fiona, my brother is a notorious playboy. Always has been.” Bella’s voice was light, but there was a hint of disapproval to it. Her foot kept up its annoyed, tapping pattern.
“No harm done,” I said in a cool voice and flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Johnny and I were just getting better acquainted.”
“Indeed,” Johnny said, his eyes catching mine again. “Indeed—”
Frantic screams slashed through the air. A bright white light flashed outside, followed by a crack of thunder. The ground trembled as though it was going to split open beneath our feet.
We stood there, stunned.
“Grandfather!” Bella shouted.
She ran out the door. Johnny gave me another quick, regretful look and rushed after her.
I stuck my head out into the hall to make sure that they weren’t going to double back and drag me with them, but the pair had already disappeared from sight. Damn, Bella could scoot in those heels. Carmen could definitely learn a thing or two from her.
I locked the door to the game room, ran to the pool table, and twisted a knob hidden underneath one of the corners. The green felt top slid back with a whisper, revealing a row of neatly folded costumes, masks, and shoes. The pool table was one of many objects throughout the manor that held more than just a good time.
It took me about thirty seconds to ditch the bridesmaid dress, stilettos, and earrings, and shimmy into my costume. The orange-red spandex molded to my body like plastic wrap, familiar and comfortable as always. I shoved my feet into my chunky, steel-toed, kick-ass boots and slapped on my flame-shaped mask. Then, I stuffed my dress and heels into the pool table and twisted the knob. The hidden compartment disappeared from sight.
The screams had quieted down, but cracks of thunder ripped through the air like gunfire. My hands curled into fists. Sparks flared to life in my hair. Flames licked at my fingers.
Unless I missed my guess, it was time for Fiera to go kick some ubervillain ass.
Goody.
#
I ran through the halls until I reached the doors that led outside, zoomed down the white carpet that had served as the aisle, and sprinted to the edge of the garden. A row of thick, holly bushes separated the lush, flowering plants from the smooth lawn. I slid to a halt and peeked through one of the small gaps in the glossy greenery.
Bigtime’s finest stood on the lawn, blank looks on their faces. They seemed not to notice the overturned tables, broken dishes, spilled food, and general chaos that surrounded them. Acrid smoke snaked up from an oak tree that had been split in two. Smoldering, snapped branches and shredded leaves littered the singed grass.
A woman dressed in a neon-blue suit stood in the middle of the dance floor. Siren. She had a tangle of black curls and an hourglass figure that would make even a blind monk look twice at her. The silver zipper on her suit was open almost to her navel, showing off enough buoyant cleavage to raise the Titanic. A mask in the shape of a zigzagged lightning bolt covered her bright blue eyes.
But she wasn’t alone. A woman in a shiny silver suit hovered next to Siren in a floating chair. Intelligal. Thick, black goggles highlighted her dark eyes, making them seem as big and round as quarters. A silver cowl clung to her egg-shaped head, hiding her hair from sight, and her suit was zipped up to her neck. It was a good thing too. Intelligal didn’t have the body to pull off the evil sexpot look. She had about as many curves as a board.
So, our new neighborhood ubervillains has decided to crash the wedding. I wasn’t terribly surprised. Siren and Intelligal had come to town about six months ago, right after the members of the Terrible Triad had disappeared. The two had been raising hell ever since. Breaking into computer companies, stealing electronic and media equipment, robbing anyone and everyone they could get their hands on.
But even worse than the general mayhem the pair caused were their powers. It was bad enough that Siren could create powerful lightning bolts and energy balls with her bare hands. But her real weapon was her voice. One throaty whisper from Siren was all it took to turn most people into mindless, willing slaves. Her power especially seemed to work on men. Naturally. Of course, her looks didn’t hurt either when it came to turning men into helpless puppets.
Intelligal didn’t seem to have any superpowers of her own, but she really didn’t need them. Her Intellichair did the work for her. The device was a flying, open-topped tank that wrapped around the ubervillain’s legs and torso. Equipped with heat-seeking missiles, machine-gun turrets, and a force field, the chair was like something out of a James Bond movie. Only better. The Intellichair was also scratch-proof, fire-proof, and virtually indestructible. Most things made out of solidium were. I knew. I’d been trying to melt and smash the chair to pieces for months with no success. I hadn’t even been able to put so much as a dent in the dull gray metal.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you, but I’m afraid my invitation to the wedding got lost in the mail,” Siren cooed into the microphone she’d taken from the band leader. “And I just couldn’t miss the social event of the season.”
Her voice was low and husky and throaty. To the men, it whispered of sexual fantasies come to life. To the women, it was the conspiratorial tone of a trusted friend and confidant. Just about everyone in the crowd nodded their heads, accepting Siren’s explanation for her little lightning storm.
Siren’s dulcet tones curled through the air, seeking out everyone within hearing distance. I felt the humming melody in her voice coiling around me like a boa constrictor, trying to squeeze my will into hers. Trying to make me one of her mindless lackeys. But I was too strong-willed and too temperamental to be manipulated by the likes of Siren. I grabbed on to the roaring fire inside me and concentrated on the heat. The coils burned away, and my head cleared.
So was Carmen. The blushing bride eyed the busty ubervillain with open hatred. Soot streaked her white dress, and her auburn hair had tumbled out of its elegant updo. Carmen’s fingers twitched, and I knew she wanted to tap into Siren’s powers and give the ubervillain a taste of her own medicine. But she couldn’t. Not without blowing her cover as Karma Girl and ruining what was left of her wedding.
I looked for the other members of the Fearless Five. Sam and Henry both wore slightly vacant, dazed expressions. Sam’s tie had come undone, and Henry’s glasses dangled on the end of his nose. They’d been getting better at resisting Siren’s call, but her hypnotic voice still affected them. I snorted. Men. Please. They really were the weaker sex, in every sense of the word. The first time we’d gone up against her, Siren had convinced Sam aka Striker to attack me. It had taken one of my fireballs to the chest to bring him back to his senses. But since Striker regenerated, the only thing my fireball had really hurt was his pride.
My father looked bemused and a bit pained by the whole thing. Siren purred into the microphone again, and the chief massaged his temples. With his psychic powers, he was well beyond Siren’s call, although her voice always left him with one hell of a headache.
Lulu sat next to the chief and gazed at Intelligal’s chair. A calculating expression filled her smooth face, and her fingers tapped against the arm of her wheelchair like it was a keyboard. The computer hacker was probably wondering how she could get Henry aka Hermit to make her a similar contraption. I didn’t blame her. Although I had little use for gadgets, given my natural superpowers, even I had to admit the Intellichair was a cool, deadly gizmo. Especially since it had been kicking our asses for the last six months.
“I do hope you all will forgive my rude outburst,” Siren continued. “I really want to make a good impression on everyone, being so new in town. I’ve heard such lovely, lovely things about Bigtime and all of you. I just want to fit in.”
I rolled my eyes. Good grief, she was simpering now. Did the woman have no pride? She was giving ubervillains everywhere a bad name. As much as I hated evildoers like Malefica, the Wallflower, and Hydra, at least I had some respect for them. They would never have lowered themselves to play to a crowd of civilians.
“Oh, get on with it, Siren. Quit showing off,” Intelligal snapped and crossed her arms over her flat chest. The geeky ubervillain had little use for her partner’s sexy antics. That was two of us.
“You always spoil my fun.” Siren stuck her lip out and pouted.
“I’ll kill her for you, Siren!” one of the wealthy businessmen volunteered.
“Me too!”
“And me!”
“No, let me do it!”
Siren smiled, and several of the older men in the crowd clutched their chests, ready to have coronary episodes if she so much as crooked her pinky. “Thank you, darlings, but that won’t be necessary.”
I thought she muttered the word yet, but I couldn’t be sure. The two ubervillains might work together, but they definitely were not the best of friends. Too bad they wouldn’t take each other out and save me the trouble.
“Intelligal is going to come over to you now. If you’ll be so kind as to put your necklaces, watches, rings, and other valuables into her bag, we would greatly appreciate it.”
Siren’s husky voice wrapped around me again, and I burned away the tight, grasping tendrils. Intelligal zoomed into the glassy-eyed crowd. She hit a button, and the side of her chair opened up. A mechanical arm holding a soft, cloth bag stretched out.
The ubervillain floated through the crowd, robbing Bigtime’s richest, while Siren cooed into the microphone and kept them in line. Although I wanted to lob a fireball or three her way, I couldn’t risk it. There were too many people around. Frying civilians was not good for my image. Or for sales of my action figures, calendars, and other officially licensed merchandise.
Intelligal motored round and round, collecting millions in jewels, watches, and other baubles. Of course, there were a few willful holdouts who weren’t under Siren’s spell and didn’t want to give up their precious shinies. Joanne James was among them. Intelligal had to threaten to shoot Berkley with the machine guns mounted on her chair before Joanne parted with her pearls and enormous engagement ring. Even then, it took her a while to decide between imminent, bloody death and going without her status symbols.
To my surprise, Johnny Bulluci was also among the people who resisted Siren’s throaty call. Unlike the others, he didn’t have a blank look on his face. He and Bella hovered protectively over an old man in a navy tuxedo. That must be the grandfather they’d rushed out to save. What was his name? Something with an R. Reed, Reynolds, Richards, Roger, Rob, Roberto! That was it. Roberto Bulluci. Bobby for short.
Intelligal drifted their way, and Johnny’s eyes narrowed to slits. He shifted his stance, and his jacket opened up, exposing his white shirt. I remembered the solid feel of his chest next to mine. His lips on mine. His hands on my body. I could still smell his spicy scent. My temperature roared up a few hundred degrees. The man was sexy, there was no doubt about that. None whatsoever. Even now, I was thinking about how we could pick up where we’d left off earlier. But I pushed that thought aside. My duty as a superhero came first—pummeling ubervillains whenever possible.
Intelligal stopped in front of the Bullucis. Johnny stepped forward to shield his family from the ubervillain. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists, and Johnny looked like he wanted to leap onto Intelligal’s chair and punch her over and over again. The old man put a wrinkled, restraining hand on Johnny’s arm and shook his head. Johnny shot his grandfather an annoyed look, but he relaxed just a bit. To my surprise, Bella’s lips tightened into a thin line, and her hazel eyes glittered with rage. Bella? Angry? The mild-mannered designer never got angry, not even when she lost out on the Bigtime Fashion Designer of the Year Award to me. Despite his age, Bobby was just as worked up as his grandchildren. Even he shot the ubervillain a look of disgust and loathing.
Johnny handed over a thick watch and his engraved cufflinks. Bella took off her silver chain and charm and threw them into the bag, while Bobby passed over a diamond pinky ring. Intelligal moved on to her next victims, but all three of the Bullucis kept their eyes on her, wishing that looks could kill.
After about twenty minutes, Intelligal finished her mission. The mechanical arm clamped down on the bag, securing it and the goodies inside. She floated back to the dance floor, where Siren waited.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a real pleasure. But I’m afraid it’s time for us to leave.”
“Siren, don’t go!”
“Please stay!”
“We’ll do anything you want!”
Men and a few women called out to the ubervillain, pleading with her to stay.
Siren smiled. “I know you will, darlings, but I really must go before the Fearless Five show up. Now, why don’t you all do me a favor and talk quietly among yourselves for, say, ten minutes? That would make me so happy. And you want to make me happy, don’t you?”
Just about everyone in the crowd immediately turned to each other and began chatting about the weather, the wedding, and how fabulous Siren looked. Siren tossed the microphone back to the befuddled band leader and hopped onto the arm of Intelligal’s chair. The two of them zoomed up off the dance floor.
Ah, my cue at last.
I grabbed the fire pulsing through me, and my body exploded into flames.
Chapter Four
I plowed through the prickly holly bushes and pointed my finger. Flames arced outward, and a line of fire roared up between the ubervillains and the crowd. A few people snapped out of their trances, but most just stared at the flames. I pointed my other finger. Another line of fire sprang up, cutting off the ubervillains’ escape route. I sprinted forward through the flames toward the evildoers.
Siren and Intelligal froze. The chair hovered in midair, and their heads snapped around to me.
“You!” Siren screamed.
Her voice morphed from sultry and simpering to sharp and jagged in an instant. It felt like cold razors slicing into my brain. I clapped my hands to my head, trying to block out the horrible sound.
A bluish energy ball popped into her hand, and Siren reared back to throw it at me. But a streak of lightning cut through the air and slammed into Siren’s back. Shocked, the ubervillain flew off the arm of Intelligal’s chair and hit the ground. Behind her, Carmen waved at me and smiled.
“Get her, Intelligal!” Siren shrieked through a mouthful of dirt. The harsh tone in her voice cut through me again.
Intelligal zoomed up over the dancing flames and punched some buttons on her floating chair. Two flaps opened on the front of the metal contraption, and missiles rocketed out—straight at me. I waited until they were in range, lobbed two fireballs at them, and rolled out of the way. My fireballs slammed into the missiles, and they exploded in midair. The thunderous roar and resulting shockwave jolted the rest of the crowd out of its sheeplike state. People screamed and stampeded and sprinted down the lawn toward the metal gates a mile away. Smoke, soot, and ash darkened the spring sky.
Siren scrambled to her feet and sent a lightning bolt my way. I ducked it and retaliated with a fireball. Intelligal zipped back and forth over us, trying to get a clear shot at me with some more of her pesky missiles.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Johnny Bulluci. He ran through the wall of flames and launched himself onto Intelligal’s chair like it was something he did every day. What the hell did he think he was doing? I was the hero here, not him. The fool was going to get himself killed, and me along with him.
But I was too busy trying to dodge Siren’s energy balls and fry her alive to pay much attention to Johnny. I tried to get close enough to touch Siren, but she kept flinging lightning bolts at me. She was too smart to let me get within arm’s reach. Siren knew I could crush her to goo with my bare hands. I would, given half a chance. I’d wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze her like an orange.
After a few minutes of back-and-forth action, I started to wear Siren down. Her lightning bolts grew weaker, shorter, and slower, and she started backing away from me. I crouched down, ready to pounce on her, when something smacked into me.
“Oof!” I hit the ground so hard my flame-shaped mask left an impression in the smoldering grass.
It took me a second to realize Johnny Bulluci had fallen on top of me. Intelligal must have shaken him off her chair. Johnny didn’t look like it, but the guy weighed a ton. I knew. That’s what I bench-pressed.
“Move, move, move!” I roared.
Johnny rolled off me, onto his feet, and pulled me up in one smooth motion. I shoved him aside and raced toward the ubervillains. Too little, too late.
Siren hopped back onto Intelligal’s chair. A helicopter rotor sprang up from somewhere inside the device and started to whine and whir. Good grief, how many gadgets did the woman have on that thing? The two of them motored up, up, and away. I tossed a couple fireballs in the air, but Intelligal easily steered clear of them. Seconds later, the ubervillains disappeared from sight.
Damn. Just when I was getting warmed up.
“Fiera! Fiera!” someone shouted.
I turned. Chief Newman pointed at the lines of fire still burning on the lawn and threatening to scorch the gardens. I concentrated, pulling the heat back into my own body, and the flames snuffed out. The chief and the others started forward to see if I was injured. I waved them off and marched over to Johnny, who was staring into the sky as if he could see where the ubervillains had gone. Bella and Bobby Bulluci stood next to him, alternating their gazes between Johnny and the wild blue yonder.
“What the hell did you think you were doing? You almost got yourself killed,” I snapped.