SECRET IDENTITY Read online

  “What?” she whispered.

  After a few more seconds, Alan shook his head. “I thought I heard something.”

  “From the TV station?”

  “No. Outside. There’s a microphone in the base of the antenna.”

  “What kind of something? Could it be someone? Someone alive?” Maybe everyone outside wasn’t dead. She could only pray.

  Without warning, the van lurched to one side. Brenda gave a squeal of fright, and Alan yelled as they grabbed for something to hold on to so they wouldn’t be pitched about inside the interior of the van like loose marbles in a can. The vehicle bounced again, ending upright. Alan’s eyes widened, and he pointed out the front.

  “Look!”

  The yellowish cloud was dissipating. No. Brenda swiped the tears again from her eyes and tried to get a better look. No, it appeared as if the cloud was being blown away. Almost like it was being…fanned?

  There was a movement at the far edge of the windshield. She crawled to the front of the van, with Alan right behind her. Together they stared at the area where they could barely make out someone, a figure, standing not too far from them. As the fumes rolled away, they were finally able to see a man.

  Brenda gasped in shock and delight. Yes, it was a man. A very well-built man, with a wide chest, small waist and hips, and long, muscular legs. A total stranger wearing a shiny black leather-looking jacket and pants. What appeared to initially be black paint across his face was actually a mask.

  But what was more astonishing was the fact that this man was gripping two of the factory’s huge steel doors, one in each hand, and was waving them up and down like enormous fans, breaking up the yellow cloud with a speed and skill that was astonishing to watch.

  “Who…the…hell?” Alan’s hushed voice commented over her shoulder.

  “It looks like we have a new superhero,” she said in awe.

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “Infinity’s been gone, what? Sixteen years?” She started to smile. A new superhero. It was almost too good to be true.

  She gave a quick glance at the area around them and saw the fumes were almost all gone. As much as she would love to remain there watching this mysterious stranger in black save the day, she knew they needed to seek medical attention, especially for the reporter who remained unconscious.

  “Damn! Will you look at the guy? Those doors have to be at least four inches thick and solid steel. I betcha they weigh at least seven or eight hundred pounds each, and he’s waving them like playing cards!”

  “Alan!”

  Her tone got his attention.

  “We have to get her to the nearest hospital, and we need be checked out, too,” she told him, gesturing toward the reporter. “Monning Clinic is about four blocks away. Can you drive us there now? I’ll show you the way.”

  The cameraman never got the chance to answer because the van’s side door slid open.

  “Anyone in here needing immediate medical attention?”

  Dark blue eyes slid over Brenda before darting to the cameraman, who was already lifting the reporter into his arms.

  “Here.”

  The woman was transferred to the arms of the black-clad man, and a prick of unexpected jealousy went through Brenda.

  “Can you two make it over to the hospital on your own?” the man asked.

  His voice was rich and deep, and sent shivers through her. His glance paused below her waist.

  “Better get that taken care of as soon as you get there,” he added.

  Brenda looked down to notice for the first time that her leg was bleeding. At some point she’d ripped her pants and cut herself during the explosion. “Okay.” It sounded so lame, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

  At Alan’s nod to his previous question, the superhero backed away from the vehicle. In the next second, he lifted off of the ground and flew away.

  Brenda hopped out of the van to watch him go until he disappeared in the distance. Her body felt as though she was holding onto an electric fence, and the current was setting off fireworks in her bloodstream. The moment the man had set his eyes on her, it was as though time and the universe had come to a screeching halt. At the same time, she could feel herself growing wet between the thighs.

  This man had called to her in the most primal way, and she had no idea who he was, or even what his name was. But she would find out. Whatever it took, she would find out, one way or another, if it was the last thing she ever did.

  Chapter 2

  News

  A can of soft drink floated into the living room from the kitchen and dropped down onto the coffee table in front of him. Lorne smiled and picked it up as his two brothers walked in with big grins on their faces.

  “Congratulations! Our late bloomer has finally gone public!” Luke crowed and whacked his younger sibling on the back.

  “Mighty fine intro, too,” Lee commented. “Hell of a lot better than having to rescue some old woman’s cat from a tree.”

  The men snickered as they watched Lorne’s ears flame, and sat in chairs on the opposite side of the table.

  “Hey, do you think Brenda recognized you?” Lee asked, getting directly to the point.

  Lorne shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”

  “But she was definitely interested,” Luke said. “So were you.”

  When Lorne shot his older brother a defensive look, Luke laughed loudly in response.

  “Oh, come off it, little bro! If she had coughed just one time, you would have scooped her up and taken her straight to Mercy General! Admit it!”

  “Yeah, Lorne. You’ve had a thing for her ever since we were kids,” Lee said.

  Shaking his head, Lorne pull the tab off of the can, taking extra care not to rip away the entire top. “Stop it, guys. I didn’t pick the factory because Brenda was involved with it.” He paused with the drink almost to his lips and glanced at Luke. “Wait a minute. You knew she’d be there!”

  “So what if I did?”

  “Asshole. You did it on purpose! You deliberately sent me there because you knew Brenda would be, too!”

  Luke shrugged. “I sent you there because I knew how destructive the explosion would be. How many people did you save?”

  “You know how many,” Lorne mumbled, then took a sip of his drink. They had celebrated Luke’s first appearance as Mr. Mental with root beer, and the tradition had been repeated when Lee earned his moniker as Espionage. Frankly, Lorne wasn’t big on root beer, but at the moment it tasted just right, in spite of his brothers’ teasing.

  “Well, I don’t.” Lee pouted playfully. “I’m not the mental genius in this family, remember? So give!”

  Lorne gave a little shrug. “Sixteen or seventeen.”

  “Twenty-eight,” Luke corrected. “Plus he dissipated that poisonous cloud and put out that chemical fire in nothing flat. Congratulations again, Lorne!”

  “So, what’s your next plan of action?” Lee asked.

  Jerking a thumb in the eldest’s direction, Lorne replied, “Ask Mister Know-It-All.”

  To their surprise, Luke suddenly became serious. “Actually, I have no immediate plan of action because we’re going to be needed right here in town to help an old friend through a very serious crisis in her life.”

  The word “her” instantly raised the hairs on the back of Lorne’s neck. He gave his oldest brother a stern eye, as did Lee. “Don’t hold out on us, Luke. You promised. We all gave the oath, so give!”

  “You remember me telling you there are two kinds of events I can foresee in the future, right?”

  “Yeah. The inevitable, and the consequential,” Lee provided.

  “This is an inevitable, isn’t it?” Lorne asked.

  Slowly, Luke nodded. “’Fraid so. Guys…we’re losing Mike McKay.”

  Lorne felt a sudden icy chill run through him. He nearly dropped the can of soda in shock as Lee softly whispered, “How?”

  “Heart attack. Blockage. It’s beyond our p
owers.”

  Beyond our powers. An “inevitable” event that no one had the ability to stop or alter in any way, no matter who they were, or what kind of powers they held. Like the plant explosion had been inevitable. But the people he had saved, those lives had been in the “consequential” category. Depending on his intervention, on certain criteria or “consequences”, the death toll could have risen as high as several hundred. Instead, there had been just three.

  Three deaths, and all of them at the heart of the explosion when the tanks had ruptured. Lorne knew he should be glad to have saved so many, but those three would forever remain on his conscience as those he lost. His first outing as The Defender, who failed to defend and protect. Those deaths were three too many in his book. But, as Luke told them, some deaths were inevitable. Just not all.

  And now, their brother with the incredible mental gifts was telling them that their next-door neighbor, a good man they had known as “Mr. Mac” for more than twenty years, was going to die soon.

  In the next heartbeat, Lorne grasped the full fact of what Luke was saying. “When?” The word was out of his mouth before he was aware of asking.

  “Tonight.”

  Luke paused, and it was as if a dark cloud passed over his face. He didn’t have to say anything further. For several long, silent minutes, the three brothers bowed their heads in tribute.

  It was Lee who finally sniffed and whispered, “Who gets to call Brenda to let her know after it’s over?”

  “I will,” Lorne volunteered. He glanced at Luke, who nodded.

  Yeah, it was inevitable that he would be the one to make the call.

  Chapter 3

  Lust

  Brenda opened her eyes and rolled over to check the alarm clock. Peeved, she laid back and sighed loudly.

  “It’s not even four o’clock, and I’m wide awake. Why?”

  Oh, girl, you know why.

  “Yeah, I do. It’s because of him. Mister Black Mask and Black Leather Pants. Jesus, if those things were any tighter, I’d be able to see his heritage.”

  Don’t forget the jacket.

  “Oh, God, no. How could I forget? I’ll bet a year’s pay his biceps are thicker than my waist.”

  In fact, there wasn’t a spot on the man that was forgettable. From his long, dark hair she would love to run her fingers through, to the man’s fathomless dark eyes. And that voice. Oh, God, that voice! So deep, it resonated through her bones.

  Brenda reached down, slipped her hand underneath the elastic waistband of her cotton pajamas, and slid her fingers between her thighs. As she’d suspected, just dreaming of the man was enough to make her wet.

  She moved her fingernails over her tightening clit, lightly scraping it, and a shiver of delight went through her. Smiling softly, she closed her eyes.

  “What if it was you doing those things to me?” she whispered. “What if you flew to my window and lightly rapped on the glass, wanting to come in and have your way with me before flying off again?”

  It was so easy to imagine.

  Quickly, she shed her pajama bottoms, then reached for the battery-operated dildo in the bottom nightstand drawer. Lying back on the mattress, she first warmed the head of the vibrator between her legs as she set up the scenario in her mind’s eye.

  He rapped on the apartment window with gloved knuckles. The sound was loud enough to wake her, and she stared in surprise at the black figure outlined against the moon-washed night sky.

  She opened the window, allowing him to squeeze through the opening. He chuckled at the tight fight, and at the thought of where else there could be a tight fit, another shiver went through her in anticipation.

  “I know it’s late,” he began to apologize.

  She quickly placed a finger on his lips.

  “It’s never too late.”

  He smiled, dark eyes sparkling, reflecting the moonlight. Taking her hand, he kissed the finger, then slowly inserted it into his warm, wet mouth to run his tongue across the sensitive skin. Brenda felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched him suckle the digit, pumping it in and out like a lollipop. Or dick. Impulsively, her eyes dropped to his crotch, but his pants blended with the darkness, preventing her from seeing whether or not he was sporting a hard-on, but her instincts told her he was.

  He pulled her finger from his mouth, kissed the tip again. Then, to her shock, he lowered her hand to his pants where she could grasp the hard, thick roll underneath the layer of leather. Either the man could read her thoughts, or they were of like mind. Regardless, Brenda gave his cock a squeeze, and was rewarded with a hiss of pleasure.

  “I know we’ve only just met,” he started again.

  This time she shushed him.

  “Don’t ruin the moment.”

  She waited for him to close the window. Once his attention was back on her, she scooted toward the headboard and waited for him to make the next move.

  Brenda turned on the vibrator and slipped the head between her lower lips. The dildo’s head kissed her clit with pulsating strokes, and it was so easy to imagine the stranger in black taking her with his mouth. Licking and sucking on the taut piece of flesh as his head dipped like a cat licking cream. She could almost feel his thick hair between her fingers, cool and slightly damp with dew.

  Rolling the warm, realistic-looking penis toward her entrance, she inserted it an inch at a time, teasing herself as her imagination envisioned the superhero unbuttoning his pants just enough to allow his erection to spring forth. Still fully clothed, he bent over her, and she pressed the dildo further up inside her.

  She screwed it inside her, turning it, letting it drill her as she turned it up another notch. Working the vibrator in and out of her weeping channel, she used her free hand to pinch her nipples. The same way the stranger would pinch or lightly teethe the tips as he rocked in and out of her.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s it. Give it to me, big boy.”

  He would be rough but gentle. He couldn’t spend all night, but he was determined to make these few minutes count. She sensed his urgency, and her hand moved faster. She could feel herself lifting, growing closer to completion, and in her imagination she could hear his dark voice urging her to come.

  “Squeeze me, Brenda. Oh, yes. I want to see your orgasm. I want to hear you scream. I want to feel your pussy squeeze every drop from me. Fuck me, Brenda. Fuck me as hard as I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

  Her release came unexpectedly, and she continued to ram the dildo in and out, keeping her orgasm bright and hot. She was barely aware of the fact that she was holding her breath until the sound of her pulse drummed in her ears. Gasping, Brenda felt her body begin its descent into a languid afterglow. Her muscles melted into the sheets. Her mind clouded over, surrendering to sleep. Switching off the vibrator, she barely had the energy to drop it over the side of the bed.

  Replete, the masked man sat back on his heels and stuffed himself back into his tight leather pants, zipping—no, rebuttoning the pants. Bending back over her, he gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

  “That was incredible.”

  “There’s always more where that came from.”

  He leaned up to open the window.

  Her imagination skipped a beat as her weariness washed over her. It had been a very nice dream. Very nice. A dream.

  It took a few seconds for her brain to register the fact that her cell phone was ringing. Reluctantly, Brenda groaned and crawled out of bed to stumble over to the dresser where she’d left her purse. The number on the phone’s display was unfamiliar, but the area code was Fullerton’s. For a split second she debated whether to let the caller go to voice mail, but her conscience urged her to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Brenda McKay, please.”

  “This is her.”

  “Miss McKay? I’m sorry to call you at this time of night. My name is Dr. Randolph. I’m here at the county hospital in Fullerton. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Chapter
4

  Home

  The day was muggy but breezy when Brenda pulled up into the driveway. As the garage door slowly opened, it reminded her once again that the split-level was hers. It was no longer “her family’s”. It was “hers”. No strings attached, as of four o’clock that afternoon.

  Pulling into the garage, familiar smells assailed her. The scent of motor oil and grease were predominant, since her father had loved spending many afternoons fine-tuning the antique Oldsmobile’s engine. Now, the Oldsmobile, the cans of oil, and Dad were gone, but never the memories or the residual odors of those memories.

  She had just walked into the kitchen from the garage when the front doorbell rang. Her first reaction was irritation.

  Go away. I just got home. I’m heartbroken, and I want to be alone, all right?

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Might as well get it, and get it over with,” she told herself. There was no telling if the intruder would continue to ring the bell, and maybe include banging on the front door. Plus there was no way she could go from the kitchen into the hallway leading to the bedrooms without passing in front of the door and not be seen by whoever was out there.

  Resigned, she strode through the living room, into the foyer. A dark shape reflected behind the large oval glass inset in the door, but she had no qualms about opening it. After all, this was Fullerton. Hometown, U.S.A. Norman Rockwell heaven.

  “Hi, Brenda. Saw you pull in.”

  She gasped and stared in shock at the man standing on her front porch. The black hair was long and shaggy, and pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his thick neck. He wore a faded plaid shirt open like a jacket over a pristine clean white t-shirt, and baggy, tattered jeans, along with a pair of black flip-flops. Still, he was instantly recognizable past the days-old stubble by his shy smile and amazing gray eyes.

  “Lorne Palmer! Goodness gracious! How are you!” Impulsively, she hugged him, and immediately she became aware that there was a man’s body underneath the almost homeless-looking outer layer. There were hard muscles hidden by the blue plaid flannel. Wide shoulders. The college boy had grown up, just like she had. Quickly, Brenda pushed it to the side and stared at her neighbor. “God, I was hoping you’d come over. It’s been, what? Six years?” She glanced back over her shoulder at the disarray inside the house, then turned an apologetic face toward him. “I would invite you inside, but I just got here, and there’s nothing I can offer—”