Lucky Strike (Super Harem #1) - Catherine Banks Page 0,1

he have just tied my arms in front of me? I supposed there wouldn’t be a next time now that I wasn’t dating a hero anymore.

I had just put my keys in the lock when a rush of wind at my back announced the arrival of a hero or villain.

With a sigh, I turned to find out who was here to ruin my night further.

Transistor stood before me, riding an electric skateboard he manipulated to fly. His lower lip was swollen and bloody, but otherwise, he looked fine.

He held out a brand-new cellphone.

“What?” I asked as I took it.

“I broke yours,” he said and shrugged. “Figured that asshat wouldn’t buy you a replacement now that you dumped him.”

“Thanks,” I whispered and held it against my chest.

He winked at me. “See you soon, Lucy.”

I wanted to remind him that we likely wouldn’t see each other now that I wasn’t with Cobalt, but I was too stunned to say anything.

Maybe villains weren’t so bad after all.

Chapter Two

Someone found out about the breakup and it made front-page news.

Two girls from the other team at my office came to my desk to try to ask me about it. I just told them to remember heroes were still human and none of them were perfect.

Television crews waited out front when my shift was over, so I snuck out the back. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? Who cared what went on in a hero’s love life? They were just people. People with powers, but still just people.

Halfway home, I sensed someone following me.

“I am not in the mood for an interview or kidnapping. So, just leave me alone.” Without waiting for a response, I continued on my way.

Two streets later, I was grabbed and a bag was placed over my head.

I sighed. “Cobalt and I broke up. You aren’t going to convince him to come save me.”

“We’ll see about that,” a deep voice I didn’t recognize said.

“I was having a really good hair day.” I groaned. “Couldn’t you have just blindfolded me?”

“You should be scared and quiet,” he snapped.

I laughed bitterly. “This is the fifteenth time I’ve been kidnapped or taken hostage, whatever you want to call it. You sort of go numb after the tenth time.”

“Gag her,” another man said.

The sound of a sliding van door came from in front of me.

“Oh, my god. You’re amateurs? Not even super? This is the worst day ever.”

They gagged me with a nasty rag that tasted like gasoline and smelled like gear oil. I wanted to vomit, and I swore I’d kick their bodies at least twice each if I did get rescued.

They tossed me into the van unceremoniously. My head hit the metal floor and stars danced before my eyes.

Great, the last thing I needed was a concussion. Doctors were not cheap.

They drove like idiots, making me slide all around the back of the van. I tucked my body into a fetal position to protect my head.

When they finally stopped, I was ready to give them a piece of my mind if they ever took the rag out of my mouth.

One of the idiots hefted me over his shoulder and carried me up what felt like ten flights of stairs.

I heard the distinct sounds of machinery all around us. The moment they opened a door, heat slammed into me like a heavy blanket. Sweat broke out on my face, dripped down my back, and pooled beneath my breasts.

My bra was going to need a soak and wash after this.

I would have grumbled my displeasure, but that would have put my tongue into contact with the rag in my mouth even more.

The moron carrying me finally set me down. My butt hit a hard metal seat and pain zipped from my tailbone up my spine.

I grunted.

Metal clinked loudly as they wrapped chains around me and the chair.

Great. Now I had to wait to be rescued.

A loud whir preceded my chair being raised off the ground.

A squeal escaped before I could stop it as the chains dug into my chest, arms, and legs.

The chair began to spin, and I worried I would throw up and then choke to death because of the rag.

Someone screamed, and I sighed in relief. Finally, someone was here to save me.

“It’s not Cobalt,” one of the amateurs said.

I rolled my eyes. I’d told them.

“Stop or we drop her,” another of the morons said.

Drop me? Oh, gods. Was I over boiling water or something? How cliché and dumb. I’d assumed they were amateurs,