Temptress Page 2

  “I’ll take him back to my place.” I cringed at the thought. My penthouse was my sanctuary. The only place I was Jenny Ray instead of Temptress. I never brought guys back, let alone heroes. It would start with Thinktank, and then a few alphabet agencies looking for him, followed by his crime-fighting buddies, and soon I’d be on the map for every super who wanted revenge. I needed to get him out before he woke up.

  Swinging Thinktank onto my back, I floated for the edge of the building. “I’ll call when I figure this out.”

  “You better,” Chief said as I flew further. “And get some rest. You look like hell.”

  I snorted. Hell? That was for damn sure.

  Coasting away from the glitter of the strip, I climbed for more altitude. By the time we made it to the Palms and touched down on my balcony, I felt like I’d been put through a pasta roller. The infinity pool’s lights glowed invitingly, but I wanted a bath. A hot, hot bath.

  I kicked off my heels and moved through the sliding door, flicking lights with one hand and balancing Thinktank with the other. I flipped him onto the boxy sofa in the formal living room. His feet hung over the edges, but instead of looking awkward, he made the sofa look ridiculous. Like contemporary furniture wasn’t man enough to hold him.

  Making him as comfortable as I could, I rearranged his arms. Blood oozed from his biceps. The laser. I’d scored a better hit than I thought.

  I padded on cold tiles to the bathroom and opened my under-sink pharmacy. Prescription bottles crowded the tiered shelves. I popped a couple of Vicodin from the enormous bottle at the front and blinked in some eye drops before wrestling out the med-kit. I had a broken nail, but my nose looked worse than it was and, for once, someone else had the worst of the scrapes and burns. I was just really, really skuzzy. I flicked the taps for the tub and added three scoops of eucalyptus bath salt. Between those and the Vicodin, I’d have to start feeling less like tenderized meat, but bliss would have to wait a few more minutes.

  Thinktank hadn’t stirred on the couch. Unbuttoning his shirt, I couldn’t help but notice his abs. I could totally do my laundry on that washboard.

  I tried to maneuver the shirt off, but he was too heavy. I grabbed scissors from the med-kit. I’d already done enough that de-arming his Armani wouldn’t make it any worse. After a few snips, I draped the severed sleeve over a sofa arm and bent to check the damage.

  An even half-circle tore through Thinktank’s arm, just below his M10 tattoo. Singed skin curled around the wound, but there wasn’t as much blood as I thought, and the laser had self-cauterized. To be sure, I sprayed some anti-bacterial mist before wrapping his arm with gauze.

  That was one issue down. The next one wasn’t so simple.

  Focusing on Thinktank’s energy, I let his powers rise to fill me. His thoughts blurred with wordless images that wouldn’t come into focus. I could sense tangles of awareness from all over the hotel, including the chaos from a rager in the penthouse four floors up. That, I’d expected. Everything else was a surprise.

  Thinktank’s nose had been broken three times. He was left-handed and a Master in kung fu. The temperature in the penthouse fluctuated between 67 and 68 degrees, and everywhere I looked, I had an instant count. Candles, eighteen; wine glasses, thirty-two; and hairs on Thinktank’s arms, one-hundred thirty-seven thousand, two-hundred eighty-five.

  I couldn’t shift my gaze without new waves of ratios and measurements. The longer I looked, the more it built, until I had full-scale statistics. Thinktank breathed an average of eleven and a half times per minute. Before I could get overwhelmed with the measurements of his lips, I ducked for kiss.

  As soon as we touched, his power slipped my grasp, slinking back to the swirl of energies inside me. Pain jabbed into my skull. As if the situation wasn’t enough of a headache, I had to get an actual migraine. I pulled away and left Thinktank to sleep it off. Maybe his powers were so aware that they needed him conscious before they’d snap back. It had never happened before, but his powers weren’t like any of the others in my repertoire.

  I poured a glass of sangria and made my way to the tub. Short of molesting him, there was nothing I could do until Thinktank woke. I wasn’t going there. We could talk it out after my bath. After swishing through half a bottle of mouthwash, I kicked off my dress and panties, leaving them balled on the tile, and sank to my shoulders in the steamy, eucalyptus-scented water.

  Hero-work could wait a while.

  I jerked awake. I’d gone numb to that harpy’s kiss, but I couldn’t sense her. Or anything short of the obvious. I was in a million dollar penthouse—still Vegas by the skyline—cramped on a pretentious sofa with a missing sleeve and a bandaged arm.

  Nothing else.

  No specs, no data, no measurements.

  Silence. No powers.

  Temptress. For a guy with a super-brain, I was a royal idiot. She’d slipped by me like nothing, passing under my safeguards and hitting Steel before I could blink. Still, I’d had her.

  Then she sucked my soul out. If I couldn’t get my powers back—

  No. Fuck that. Where was she? And where was Steel?

  The penthouse was too quiet. A few dim lights glowed, but other than the red stilettos tipped over on the balcony, the place looked like a model unit. The formal dining room was still set with stacks of plates and folded napkins. Did anyone live here? Or was it meant to be my holding cell?

  I slipped into the kitchen. A wineglass stood in the sink, printed with scarlet lipstick. She had to be here. I couldn’t key in on her thoughts to confirm, but my ears worked fine, especially with so little else to distract.

  A soft splash echoed from the hallway. I stole toward the noise. Was it Temptress? I wasn’t her match at the moment, but I gritted my teeth. Either way, I was getting Steel and my powers.

  I moved through more empty, decorator-sterile rooms. The bedroom was the only one that looked lived-in, with a closet full of clothes and a bottle of cologne on the nightstand. I pressed my ear to the closed door. I’d kick it down if I had to, but for the hell of it, I turned the knob. It eased open.

  Temptress lay in the square marble tub, eyes closed, with wet curls plastered to her cheek and shoulders. Asleep, no make-up, the soft light glowed against the curve of her neck. No wonder Steel had been fooled. He might be a red-blooded hero, but he’d screwed us all over for women who didn’t come close to this one. Under other circumstances, I might’ve taken my chances and slipped into the tub.

  But they called her Temptress for a reason. I had to assume she was faking.

  I pushed the door open further. An empty wine glass and an open bottle of pills sat on the tub’s marble ledge. I froze. She couldn’t be…

  Not if she was taking my powers with her. I sucked in a too-loud breath.

  Temptress’s eyes snapped open. Piercing blue, they glared fire. Like she was the victim.

  “Where’s Steel?” I returned the glare and strode toward her. After two quick steps, power pressed against me. My forehead banged the invisible barrier. So she could do force fields. What other tricks was she hiding?

  “Steel’s in police custody until he goes on trial for rape.”

  “Rape?” Her words knocked me back. A trial? Temptress was a vigilante. “Who accused him?”

  “That’s confiden—”

  “Bullshit.” I thumped the wall. Steel liked his women willing. He’d never touch a girl who wasn’t interested. If he had, I’d kill him myself. “He’s my subordinate. Tell me.”

  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?”