Read Online Black and White by Jackie Kessler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jackie Kessler
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which wasn’t really a surprise; two o’clock was between shifts. Plenty of time to get ready for the thrice-damned
Jack Goldwater Show.
She replayed the conversation with Meteorite as she waited for an elevator, and again as she rode up to the twenty-ninth floor. By the time she was standing outsideher apartment, she was feeling exhausted, wrung out. And ashamed of her momentary weakness.
A hero always had to be on guard. Especially with former friends.
Next time
, she told herself as she stripped off her gauntlet.
Next time.
She waved her palm in front of the door sensor. It hummed in recognition, then the door slid open. Massaging her sweaty hand, Jet stepped inside, and light slowly illuminated the apartment. She paused just beyond the threshold, waiting, as always, for the lights to finish brightening to their fullest before she pulled back her cowl and unpinned her cape. The lights would stay on as long as she remained inside, even when she slept.
Jet knew what lurked in the dark. And she preferred not to meet it in the safety of her own home.
She hung up her hooded cape on a hook by the door, then stripped off her other glove and put both on the small table there. Next came the boots, made of the same thick leather as the gauntlets; she unzipped them and pulled her stockinged feet free.
Whoa—time for a new deodorizer in the boots.
Or maybe she should leave off the antisweat pads and let her stinky feet take out all criminals unfortunate enough to be downwind.
Her lips twitched in a sudden smile.
Code name: Body Odor.
Placing the boots neatly beneath the table, she removed the thick, pouched belt from her waist and looped it in a tight circle before setting it down on top of her gauntlets. Then she let out a tired sigh. Maybe other heroes felt lighter when they removed their official accoutrements of office. But standing in nothing but the shiny skinsuit, swathed from chin to toe in inky black, Jet felt naked. Exposed.
Sweeping her glance over her living room, she paused at the cushioned glider-rocker tucked in the corner, next to the window that showed the hazy New Chicago skylineand, most important, next to her overstuffed bookcase. She knew it was eccentric, but she preferred the old-fashioned paper books to reading electronically. Something about the feel of the book in her hands, of the smell of the paper, gave her comfort. Most of the novels crammed on the shelves were romances. Maybe it was trite, but Jet loved to read books that guaranteed a happily-ever-after.
Real life so rarely ended well; it was nice to lose herself in a fantasy of happiness, even if it was just in the well-worn pages of a book.
Tonight she’d read one of the historicals from the early twenty-first century. Those always made her smile. Assuming she didn’t have a mission, of course. Or another beat on Iridium.
Unzipping her costume, she padded over to her vid-phone. Two messages. She’d forgotten to set visual for messaging, so she was stuck with voice only. Light, she was tired.
“Hey, Jet. It’s Bruce. Looking forward to dinner later.”
Warmth tingled in her belly as she replayed the quick message. None of the other Runners had ever confirmed that she’d be home, or had bothered to leave messages. Then again, none of the other Runners had been sexy, dark-haired men who made her skin feel electric …
“Hello, Jet. I hear you’ve had an interesting day.”
The second speaker’s voice both sent ice up her spine and, incongruously, made her relax. Then again, Night always sounded cold, even when he was laughing—like now, with his low chuckle.
“Interesting in the Chinese sense, of course. When you get in, call me.”
No mention of whether he was calling as her former mentor or as an ex-officio member of the Corp EC. As the Academy representative, Night was in the loop on all things extrahuman. Including, apparently, her screwup with Iridium.
She blew out a frustrated sigh. Iri had caught her completely off
Jack Goldwater Show.
She replayed the conversation with Meteorite as she waited for an elevator, and again as she rode up to the twenty-ninth floor. By the time she was standing outsideher apartment, she was feeling exhausted, wrung out. And ashamed of her momentary weakness.
A hero always had to be on guard. Especially with former friends.
Next time
, she told herself as she stripped off her gauntlet.
Next time.
She waved her palm in front of the door sensor. It hummed in recognition, then the door slid open. Massaging her sweaty hand, Jet stepped inside, and light slowly illuminated the apartment. She paused just beyond the threshold, waiting, as always, for the lights to finish brightening to their fullest before she pulled back her cowl and unpinned her cape. The lights would stay on as long as she remained inside, even when she slept.
Jet knew what lurked in the dark. And she preferred not to meet it in the safety of her own home.
She hung up her hooded cape on a hook by the door, then stripped off her other glove and put both on the small table there. Next came the boots, made of the same thick leather as the gauntlets; she unzipped them and pulled her stockinged feet free.
Whoa—time for a new deodorizer in the boots.
Or maybe she should leave off the antisweat pads and let her stinky feet take out all criminals unfortunate enough to be downwind.
Her lips twitched in a sudden smile.
Code name: Body Odor.
Placing the boots neatly beneath the table, she removed the thick, pouched belt from her waist and looped it in a tight circle before setting it down on top of her gauntlets. Then she let out a tired sigh. Maybe other heroes felt lighter when they removed their official accoutrements of office. But standing in nothing but the shiny skinsuit, swathed from chin to toe in inky black, Jet felt naked. Exposed.
Sweeping her glance over her living room, she paused at the cushioned glider-rocker tucked in the corner, next to the window that showed the hazy New Chicago skylineand, most important, next to her overstuffed bookcase. She knew it was eccentric, but she preferred the old-fashioned paper books to reading electronically. Something about the feel of the book in her hands, of the smell of the paper, gave her comfort. Most of the novels crammed on the shelves were romances. Maybe it was trite, but Jet loved to read books that guaranteed a happily-ever-after.
Real life so rarely ended well; it was nice to lose herself in a fantasy of happiness, even if it was just in the well-worn pages of a book.
Tonight she’d read one of the historicals from the early twenty-first century. Those always made her smile. Assuming she didn’t have a mission, of course. Or another beat on Iridium.
Unzipping her costume, she padded over to her vid-phone. Two messages. She’d forgotten to set visual for messaging, so she was stuck with voice only. Light, she was tired.
“Hey, Jet. It’s Bruce. Looking forward to dinner later.”
Warmth tingled in her belly as she replayed the quick message. None of the other Runners had ever confirmed that she’d be home, or had bothered to leave messages. Then again, none of the other Runners had been sexy, dark-haired men who made her skin feel electric …
“Hello, Jet. I hear you’ve had an interesting day.”
The second speaker’s voice both sent ice up her spine and, incongruously, made her relax. Then again, Night always sounded cold, even when he was laughing—like now, with his low chuckle.
“Interesting in the Chinese sense, of course. When you get in, call me.”
No mention of whether he was calling as her former mentor or as an ex-officio member of the Corp EC. As the Academy representative, Night was in the loop on all things extrahuman. Including, apparently, her screwup with Iridium.
She blew out a frustrated sigh. Iri had caught her completely off
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