Temptress (3 page)

Temptress sighed and rubbed her temples. “Miranda Hutchins. Two months ago, after the Ten saved her life stopping a robbery at First American.”

“He’s innocent.” Miranda was desperate, a divorcee with two kids who could’ve been considered a stalker if Steel wasn’t so good at avoiding her.

“The jury will decide that. Heroes aren’t above the law.” Temptress tucked damp hair behind her ear, shifting the water enough to show the upper curves of her breasts. I couldn’t help noticing, but I wasn’t distracted.

“You want to lecture me about the law?” At least if she was telling the truth, Steel was safe. “After you stole my powers?”

“What about you, Mr. Action Hero? Were you going to drown me until I was dead, or just brain damaged?”

“You’re claiming self-defense?” I’d been foolish to attack her like that, but there’d been no other choice once I realized who she was. I hit the wall again. “When you can do this?”

“
That
is making my raging migraine worse.” Temptress slumped, tipping her head back as she sank deeper into the tub. “If you can chill for thirty seconds, I’ll let the field down and explain.”

“Fine.” I could use some explanation. The pressure around me relaxed.

“I botched the mission, okay? I was supposed to bag Steel and get out, but our intel said you and most of the others weren’t going to make it to the party. I wouldn’t have gone with the plan if I’d known you’d all be there.”

“Temptress works for the police?” That was hard to swallow.

“Always. Not that you’ll believe me. I’m supposed to be some badass supervillainess who seduces innocent, law-abiding heroes, right?”

“Something like that.” The girl was legendary. She’d taken more supers—villains and heroes—off the market than any other mercenary, and she was one of a handful of us who was unregistered with the bureau. Untraceable. It was assumed that her targets went missing or worse. Not to prison.

“I’ve never killed anyone.” She rolled her eyes.

My chest froze. “You’re using my powers.”

“And they’re frickin’ annoying. I tried to give them back before you woke up, but they wouldn’t stick. It should work now that you’re conscious.”

“What do I have to do?” I gritted my teeth. She lay in the tub, content as could be, flaunting my powers. I knew exactly what that meant. Everything about me was open to her.

“I’d argue that I was about as far from content as a girl could get if I didn’t know what’s coming next.” Temptress drained her wineglass. “Hand me that towel?”

I picked up the towel, but held it just out of her reach. She needed to get out of my head and listen to my words. I repeated them with just as much heat. “What do I have to do?”

Temptress stood, and water slicked down her smooth, knockout body. She grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself. I would’ve looked away, but it was too late.

“We have to kiss again. But not here. Let me get—”

I couldn’t read minds anymore, but I knew she wanted to say dressed. No more waiting. I kissed her hard, almost savagely, crushing her mouth as I grabbed her shoulders.

She made a noise of protest, but didn’t let loose her arsenal of powers. Instead, she glared for a moment before closing her eyes. Her energy shifted as it had the moment she attacked me, but this was different. I could feel the strength of her spirit and the crushing wave of pain that tried to drown her. My grip loosened, and she shifted, her towel falling as the energy swirled.

Our lips parted, and my tongue found its way into her mouth. She tasted like sweet wine.

Temptress opened her eyes, and her gaze was full of heat instead of powers. Her naked body—hot and still wet from the bath—pressed against my bare chest. I wanted to run my fingers through her damp curls.

God, she was sexy.

If she wanted to seduce me, I could go with the plan. She had the power, and without her good grace I wouldn’t get far. It was the best strategy.

Temptress hooked her thumbs into the waist of my jeans, and her touch jolted down my hips. I gripped her tighter.

I wouldn’t let her wrap me around her finger that easily, but then again, maybe I wouldn’t have a choice.

Chapter Three

Thinktank’s breathing was getting ragged, and I didn’t need to read his mind to know he was attracted. To my body, at least. Not many guys could make out with a naked woman without reacting. He was still bitter, but as our kiss deepened, his angry feelings faded.

I’d managed to hold onto his energy through the kiss, but whatever I did, it wouldn’t go back. I was screwed.

But damn, could he kiss.

Thinktank’s hands slipped down my lower back, and I didn’t try to fend him off. He was practically stealing my breath, and his thoughts had broken down to flashes of images. I caught a few flattering pictures of my body, and some things he wanted to try with it. I wanted to let him.

This couldn’t happen.

I pushed him away and grabbed the soaked towel that had fallen half in the tub. He turned his back, but I couldn’t help listening in.

—losing focus because she’s sexy as hell. Temptress is—

“Could you stop calling me Temptress? I have a name.” Tucking the towel tight around my arms, I swept past Thinktank. Though I wasn’t quite blushing, I didn’t want him to know how much our kiss had me worked up. Now I needed a cold shower.

“What am I supposed to call you?” Thinktank asked.

I hesitated in the doorway. My name was supposed to be secret, but if Thinktank was going to be here a while, he’d get on my last nerve if he kept thinking of me as Temptress. “It’s Jenny.”

“Jenny?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“And what am I supposed to call you?” I would’ve folded my arms, but I didn’t want to drop my towel a second time. It had taken all the balls I had to stand in the tub. I’d almost had an aneurysm when he stormed in. Superpowers or not, I didn’t like being shaken out of a doze to strange men in my bathroom. “Or do you like to go by Thinktank in private?” I wouldn’t put it past him. He seemed like the kind of guy who was all hero, all the time. Standing like a tower of muscles, he wouldn’t have looked out of place with a cape and an eye mask.

“Just Tank.”

Why was I not surprised?

“Well, Tank.” I moved into the bedroom and grabbed my robe from the dresser. “I’m going to change. You can do whatever you want. Call your buddies and tell them you’re safe.” I belted the silk around me and let the towel fall to the floor. Tank didn’t react, but he was definitely watching. “Just don’t invite them over unless they want to lose their powers too.”

Tank’s face tightened. I slipped into the walk-in closet and shut the door. He could pout as much as he wanted as long as he didn’t bring his buddies to my doorstep. I sighed as I slipped into a pair of loose jeans. However this fiasco ended, I was going to have to move again. It had been, what? Ten months at the Palms? That was a personal best. Caesar’s would take me back in a heartbeat, but their chief of security still squicked me out. No self-respecting ex-Marine should wear a mullet. Maybe Mandalay? They had some sweet penthouses.

I sighed again and shrugged into an NYU hoodie. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten since who knew when, unless booze counted as food. My head and aching body reminded me that wine was not in the food pyramid. Ramen and
Iron Chef
on DVR would’ve hit the spot, but Tank was on the phone in the living room. He cut his conversation when I walked in. Far be it from me to disturb him in my own home.

I pointed downstairs, and Tank nodded. He could stay right where he was. We might be stuck together, but I wasn’t babysitting.

The elevator offered blissful silence, but as soon as I was alone, pain crashed. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought my arms were hanging by threads of tendon, and that someone had hammered a few railroad spikes into my skull. Not even my eyes were immune. Damned lasers. But I knew better. I shouldn’t have used them.

The doors pinged, and a wave of noise blasted in. I slipped out as a pack of co-eds stumbled in on their stilettos. Why did women wear shoes they couldn’t walk in? Or wear six-inchers to get wasted? I never went higher than four on missions, and at the moment, flip-flops were all I could manage.

On a Friday night, midnight was early by Vegas standards, and the casino was packed. Slots pinged, and a big crowd clustered around the high-stakes blackjack tables, cheering so loudly I winced. With all the women in slinky dresses and mini-skirts, my hoodie and jeans didn’t exactly blend. I caught a few dirty looks as I wove through the hallways. As I passed the Playboy Club, Donny, the massive Samoan bouncer, waved and motioned to lift the rope. That earned me a lot more dirty looks as everyone in line turned to see who rated. I smiled and shook my head. He shrugged.

The clubs would be way more than I could handle. I needed food, and then I was going straight to bed like a good little girl.

I slipped to an employee door but fumbled with my key fob. My hands were still raw from the fire and ice, and I hadn’t had a chance to put on my burn cream. Another strike against Tank. What if he had to stay for a while? What if his powers never went back? I shuddered.

“Excuse me, Miss? This is employees-only.” A bright-eyed, square-jawed security guy touched my shoulder. He had to be new.

“I’m authorized.” I waved my fob against the plate and the locks beeped, but he grabbed my sleeve.

“I’m sorry.” He took in the hoodie and flip-flops. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

Burning eyes or not, I thought about lasering IDIOT onto his forehead. Before I could, someone grabbed the new guy’s wrist. “You’re not harassing our VIP, are you, Rick?” The larger man glared.

“Sir, she—” New guy’s eyes widened.

“She has a higher security clearance than you do. Now go check the taxi stand and don’t bother Ms. Ray again.”

The new guy nodded and hustled away.

I snorted. “The taxi stand, Seth?”

“What kind of pit boss would I be if I didn’t put the newbies in their place?” Seth winked. In his tailored gray Ralph Lauren, he could pass for a gangster until he smiled. Then his dimples made him look more like a rich kid headed for a charity fundraiser. He held the door open and escorted me down the hallway. “Bad night?”

“The worst.” I hadn’t felt this ragged since I took down the supervillain training cell in Miami. And that was ten to one. The more powers I got, the more they grated on my body.

“Sushi?” Seth asked. I nodded.

“I’ll have them clear the chef’s table.” He strode ahead. “I have to check the floor, but mind if I join you afterward?”

“The more the merrier.” Seth would help distract from the pain. He waved and hurried ahead.

By the time I slipped through the service entrance, Seth was gone, and the chef’s table was set for one. I flopped into the booth, and the head chef came to pour my dish of sake. “What can I cook for you this evening, Ms. Ray?”

Most of the kitchen workers had already gone home. Only a few stations were still cranking out food for the bar. My stomach rumbled from the smell of frying spring rolls. “Nothing special, Noriyuki-san. I don’t want to keep you late.”

Chef Noriyuki narrowed his eyes. “You are too thin, Ms. Ray.”

“I’m not—” I started to defend myself, but the chef had already moved off to bark instructions at the remaining brigade. He wouldn’t listen to me, and I didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead I sipped my sake and watched the chefs, growing more ravenous as new smells filled the kitchen.

 
One of the waiters presented me with a tray of high-end sashimi and a mountain of spicy tuna rolls. My favorites. I’d barely started chomping into them when the hot courses arrived. Chef Noriyuki’s assistants heaped the table with everything I loved. Sweet potato tempura, teriyaki vegetables, spring rolls and a steaming cauldron of udon noodles with beautifully sliced veggies that made my mouth water.

“Is there anything else you would like?” Chef Noriyuki approached the table.

“This is amazing. I love you, Noriyuki-san. Seriously.
Daisuki
.”

The chef was actually starting to blush when a commotion started at the server’s entrance. All I could glimpse through the doors was a tall man and the kitchen workers trying to shoo him away. “I’m supposed to meet Jenny Ray. She’s here, isn’t she?”

My spirits sank. It hadn’t taken Tank long to find me. Or to figure out my last name. Here I’d been doing such a great job pretending he didn’t exist.

“This is your friend?” Chef Noriyuki asked. “I can call security if he is bothering you.”

“You can let him in. Sorry for the trouble.” Chef Noriyuki bowed slightly and called to the other workers. They parted, allowing Tank into the kitchen. He’d found a new shirt somewhere, and slid into the booth like he’d been invited. Why did I have to look like hell when he looked like he just stepped out of a comic book?

“How’d you find me?” I popped a spicy tuna roll into my mouth.

“All you have in your fridge is soy sauce and wasabi. I figured you’d go to the closest place to get Japanese. Lucky you live in a hotel.”

“That’s not
all
I have.” I took a sip of sake.