A Villainous Affair

Chapter 6

Herb's head pounded as he left Scarlet's flat to go in search of medical attention. Except he wasn't sure how much of the pain originated from the blow he'd received or to his mind blowing encounter with Scarlet Overkill. The woman was a mystery he badly wanted to solve.

Memories of her swirled around in his head, clinging to him as strongly as the thick fog blanketing London that night. He'd never known anyone as complicated as Scarlet. Or as intriguing. She was a warrior, a vixen-and as untamable as they came.

Not that he'd want to tame her. Oh, no. Scarlet wasn't meant to be domesticated. She was meant to be worshipped in all of her wild glory. And given the chance, Herb intended to do just that.

Daydreaming about her would have to wait, however, because now the effects of the attack were really doing a number to his head. He visited a 24/7 clinic that catered to down-on-their-financial-luck villains. The bet money he'd won from Bart paid for a rudimentary exam and a few painkillers to get him through the night. Upon exiting the clinic, he checked his watch. Three a.m. What was left of the night, anyway. Now cleared of any life-threatening injuries, he headed home.

His current residence wasn't a true flat, but a loft in one corner of a sprawling warehouse. The large, airy space, with its brick walls, exposed pipes, and sturdy construction lent itself well to his tinkering, which occupied most of his time. He rented the space in exchange for doing odd repair jobs around the warehouse. Herb ascended the stairs to the third floor and unlocked the side entrance that served as his front door.

Without even bothering to turn on the lights, he swallowed a painkiller and crashed face-first on his mattress in the corner. Sleep washed over him like a tidal wave.

***

Herb awoke to the ear-shattering sound of someone pounding on the door. He forced his eyelids open. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows. Then he checked the nearest clock. He'd slept all the way until four in the afternoon. He didn't owe rent and his calendar was clear of commitments, so who the heck could it be?

Herb quickly gulped down another painkiller and then stumbled to the door. "Coming," he called.

He unlocked the door and opened it.

A woman stood on the landing, poised and elegant, haloed by the blazing afternoon sun.

Scarlet.

Wow. Those must have been some painkillers. Was he hallucinating this beautiful vision?

"Can I come in?" She shoved past him without waiting for an answer. "Thanks."

The fruity notes of her perfume tickled his nose. So she was real. And right here in his loft. Far out.

She wore a pleated red skirt with a matching top. Her midnight black hair was clipped neatly against her head with two red barrettes in the shape of bows. Strappy red sandals covered her feet. She carried a bulging satchel. Full of loot most likely.

Herb ran a hand through his hair as he closed the door. Who was he kidding? His hair always looked like he'd just woken up. But he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit he was excited to see Scarlet again and wanted to look his best.

"Hey...nice to see you. Uh, how did you know where I lived?"

"You gave me your card."

"Oh. Yeah." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Tried and failed to rub the wrinkles from his jacket. "So what's up?"

"I was in the neighborhood...," she stood by the window and peeked through the curtain, "...robbing a bank. When I was about to make my getaway, my stupid car wouldn't start. So I ran." Apparently satisfied no one was about to bust in on them, she turned to Herb. "Can you fix it?"