Nightingale by Jennifer Estep

Author:Jennifer Estep [Estep, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Jennifer Estep
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

I froze. Bandit on my block. On my street. Talking to me. Calling me by name. Not good. So not good.

“Um, hello,” I said in the calmest voice I could muster. One should always avoid being rude to ubervillains if one wanted to keep breathing.

I clutched Rascal to my chest with one hand. With the other, I reached into my vest pocket and curled my fingers around my stun gun. Not that it would do much damage against the ubervillain. If I could somehow manage to use it before he just killed me.

Despite the disasters I’d faced at my events, I’d never been confronted by an ubervillain—not once. I didn’t think I had anything that would slow Bandit down, much less save me from getting shot. My vest contained many, many things. Unfortunately, Kevlar was not one of them. But I was definitely splurging for it the next time I went to Oodles o’ Stuff.

“You have something that belongs to me,” Bandit drawled. He jerked his thumb over his finger, pointing at the limo. “Or rather to my employer, Tycoon. And I want it back. Now.”

My eyes flicked to the car. Something red dangled from the rearview mirror, something that seemed to have a familiar, heart-like shape to it, but that was all I could make out. Even with my supervision, I couldn’t see who was inside through the metal of the car—and I didn’t want to. Tycoon was notorious for keeping his identity a secret. Rumors said only a handful of people knew who the mob boss really was, and his anonymity allowed him to stay in business and avoid being busted by Chief Sean Newman. If I saw Tycoon’s face, I might as well just shoot myself instead of waiting for Bandit to do it.

“I have something that belongs to Tycoon?” I said, confused.

Bandit nodded, his dark hair falling forward. The moonlight hit his face, highlighting the black-and-white, paisley pattern in the bandana tied around his face. It only added to his sinister air.

“There must be some mistake. I don’t have anything of yours. Or his. I’ve never met you before. Never even seen you before. Well, not in person anyway.”

Like most ubervillains, Bandit occasionally appeared on SNN hawking his latest merchandise. The ubervillain also held illegal camps where people could go play cowboys for a day—complete with real duels using real guns and real bullets. And, of course, Bandit made the news whenever he evaded the police or superheroes during high-speed car chases. A couple of weeks ago, he and Pistol Pete, the gun-loving superhero, shot up the street outside Oodles o’ Stuff when they both went in to buy some supplies at the same time.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Abby.” Bandit’s voice sounded low, hard, and cold, despite the way he drawled out his words. “I know you have it. It wasn’t in your apartment or at the convention center. So, you must have it on you.”

My apartment? He’d been in my apartment? My blood congealed a little more.

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