Hero Stalker

Part Fifty

By the time I woke up, light streamed through the windows on the west side of the bedroom. Dan's sheets had tangled around my chest and legs. The clean white fabric glowed gold in the sunlight. A man who washes his sheets! Even better, I smelled French toast simmering downstairs.

I rolled out of bed. My legs seized up and my knees buckled, dropping me down on the hardwood floor. All the running I'd done last night came back to me. Right. I'd crossed the city twice.

My old clothes were all I had to pull on. Mom had left eighteen texts for me. I replied that I'd spent the night at Annabelle's and slunk downstairs.

Dan was frying sticks of bread on the stove, naked from the waist up. I shivered. I'd spent plenty of time with extremely fit men recently, but he put them all to shame. The hard muscle covering his chest shone under his tanned skin. His biceps flexed as he lifted the pan. Perfect.

His kitchen was bigger than I'd expected, with cheery yellow linoleum tiles and pristine plastic countertops. A faded photo of a blond man in a military uniform hung on one wall, and a photo of Dan with an older woman and a tough-looking brunette hung on the other. A web printout of the 2014-2015 NFL schedule hung on the fridge, pinned with a free magnet from a pizza parlor. All the Heroes' home games had been highlighted.

Dan looked up and smiled. My heart fluttered. "Damn it. I wanted to finish breakfast before you woke up. Well, guess it's lunch, seeing as how it's almost two o'clock."

Jeez. I'd missed church. Well, at least I'd made him happy.

He pulled two blue plastic plates from a cabinet and dished out toast and scrambled eggs. "The maple syrup's in the fridge."

The brand-new bottle sat behind some plastic-wrapped pizza slices. I twisted open the cap and ripped off the little seal. "Where's the trash?"

"In there." He pointed at a door in the corner. The calendar hanging from it hadn't been flipped over since June.

I opened the closet and I opened it and flicked the seal into the trash can. The paper on top of the recycling caught my eye.

The cover of this morning's Clarion bore a photo of me clinging to the wall of RandolphTower. The headline read 'Centurions Descend On City After Police Commissioner's Son Murdered.' Next to it sat 'Why Bayton Doesn't Need Shadowcat', by Annabelle Truman.

I smoothed out the paper and scanned the headline article. I didn't want to know what Annabelle had written about me.

"Can you believe it?" Dan walked up behind me. A trace of bitterness laced his voice. "A police officer gets killed and they still put a photo of a Centurion on the cover. Not even a good Centurion."

I dropped the paper back in the bin. "You don't like Shadowcat?"

"I . . ." he paused. "I mean, I guess she's important to you. The first black woman to join Bayton's team in thirty years."

"I'm a huge psi-nerd," I confessed as I sat down. Blood filled my cheeks. "I've got almost all the action figures."

Dan passed me a plate and sat down across from me. "I get it. Superheroes are fun to read about. Who didn't want to be a Centurion when they were a kid? But in real life . . . I know they saved you from Harpy, but they can be reckless. They rarely have law enforcement backgrounds. I've seen Shadowcat in action. She failed to stop Harpy at the Speedway. She picks fights with other Centurions. She's old enough to know the protocols, but doesn't. Plus, she drinks on duty. Doesn't seem to respect her office. "

I respected Centurions more than anything. And I'd only taken one shot. You're not the only one who hangs out in psi-bars. But I'd been in uniform and he hadn't. I'd provoked Pulse, not him. I couldn't say anything. Especially since, technically, Gloria Dodson hadn't been there.

Instead, I drizzled syrup on my French toast and didn't meet his eyes.

He continued. "And they lie to the press. Ayer sends out all these stupid memos with cover stories. Like Cracken. No way in hell he—" Dan paused. He swallowed hard and changed his tone. "Never mind. I've had a week from a hell and I shouldn't throw it all at you. Let's not talk about work, okay? Let's eat."

The French toast didn't make me feel as full as I thought it would. Dan wanted to know all about my family. I sketched out the full Dodson-Draper family tree, glossing over parts like my mother and sister not speaking to each other. James's sexuality didn't seem to bother him. Good. That would have ended things right there. Stories about the triplets getting in trouble and Will's practical jokes made him laugh in all the right places. But I could tell the ghosts of last night were haunting him as breakfast went on.

"I should probably go down to the station," he said around three. "They're assembling a task force to deal with . . . the problem."

Harpy. I yearned to suit up, sprint to the Tower, and interrogate Cypher about the schematic we'd found. But my legs felt as tight as stretched rubber bands, and I had a giant sushi roll to check on. Thank you, Peregrine, for the extra work. Like I'm not busy enough.

"Are you feeling okay?" Dan ran his thumb over the back of my hand. "I haven't forgotten that Harpy targeted you. Say the word and I'll take you to a PCD safe house. I mean it. No one's gonna touch you while I'm around."

From the tone of his voice, I knew he'd take a bullet for me if he had to. How many times had I dreamed about finding a knight in shining armor? Someone who valued me enough to risk everything for me. But shacking up in a safe house wouldn't help me catch Harpy. "That's a terrible idea," I said, trying to keep the tone light. "Lock us up in a house together and we'll screw each other until the henchmen batter down the door."

My joke did nothing to change his serious tone. "It would be me, you, two other officers, and your immediate family."

"My immediate family in the city consists of nine people, three of whom are toddlers." And I'm not ready to introduce any of them to you yet. "Dan, it isn't worth it. You said it yourself. Harpy doesn't know my name. He doesn't know where I live." And he doesn't know I'm coming for him. "How about instead of police protection, you take me out for dinner. Is Wednesday good for you?"

"Sure." He didn't look very sure of anything. "I'll call you. And, Gloria . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Stay safe. I mean it."

A little warm glow pulsed in my chest as I road the bus to Cable Street. Dan cares about me! He wants to protect me! I tried to focus on that feeling and not on newspapers clutched by every other passenger.