It's almost here!!

Only a few more sleeps until Caped and Fabulous will be released into the world! But if you're wanting a little sneak peek, I've got you covered. And brace yourselves for that first line. It's...a visual. :0 Happy reading! 

Chapter One

Some days, being a superhero sucked giant, hairy, dirty, sweaty, crusty, donkey dicks. And today was one of those days.

Bryn Terrell clenched her teeth and leaned back in her hospital bed as the ER doctor stared at the gash on her forehead with judgement in his eyes. “This is the third time in two months I’ve treated you for job related injuries,” the bespectacled bastard said.

​She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you suggest that maybe it’s the way I’m dressed, I’m going to have to throat punch you.”

See, that was funny because she was currently wearing a leather superhero suit with a shiny red cape, and she was being treated for a possible concussion after getting her ass handed to her by a supervillain, and this guy was looking at her like she’d been asking for a beating.

Not funny ha ha, of course. Funny in a sad, pathetic kind of way. Which was a common thread in her life these days.

And supervillains were to blame. Nothing had been the same since those genetically engineered super assholes came into the picture.

“Can you just slap a bandage on this cut, tell me I don’t have a concussion and let me go back to work?” she asked, not even able to feign politeness. Not after the day she’d had.

The balding bastard with the disapproving side eye—Dr. Richards, the hospital lanyard around his thick neck read—frowned at her. “That cut needs a few stitches, and I want to send you for a head CT.”

Oh, fuck no. Bryn sat up, doing her best to ignore the way the room was suddenly spinning, and said, “No stitches. Just use the liquid sutures. And no head CT. I’m telling you, I’m fine.” Superheroes did have moderately enhanced healing abilities, after all.

He glared at her over the top of his tortoiseshell frames. “My apologies. I wasn’t aware they gave out medical degrees in superhero school.”

OK, first of all, the sarcasm was totally unnecessary. And second of all, “No, they didn’t, but I’m starting to wonder if you missed the classes on bedside manner, or if they just don’t teach that anymore.”

A chuckle from the doorway cut off whatever Dr. Richards was going to say next, and Bryn was forced to tamp down her foul temper as her boss made her way into the tiny, puke green-colored room.

Greer Glenanne was the most imposing woman Bryn had ever met. And it wasn’t her physical appearance that was so cowing, either. She was only about 5’6”, lived in Star Trek hoodies and flip flops, and looked at least a decade younger than her 51-years.

She wasn’t intimidating because of her former superhero status or current power position as the chief superhero handler at Morgan Enterprises, either. Her ability to bench press a city bus, fly, and fire Bryn from her role as Gem City’s official superhero wasn’t what made Bryn sit up a little straighter whenever the woman was near.

If she was a man, everyone would say Greer had big dick energy. She was strong, confident, and fearless. Always ready to take charge and lead her people through any situation that arose. She was a doer. Greer Glenanne got shit done.

Bryn, on the other hand, was…well, what was the opposite of a doer? A do-ee? She had always been more likely to react than to be proactive when it came to problem solving. Greer was her idol.

And right now, her idol was looking at her with a combination of amusement and stern reproach. “Making friends, I see,” Greer said, her raspy voice thick with sarcasm.

That was another thing Bryn admired about Greer. That voice. Everything Greer said sounded cool and sexy. Bryn’s voice sounded like a Muppet on helium. “You don’t pay me to make friends.”

Greer crossed her arms over her chest, blocking Bryn’s view of the design on the black hoodie she was wearing. She wasn’t sure, but she thought this one said, ‘Beam Me Up, Scottie. There’s no intelligent life here.’ “I don’t pay you to get your ass kicked either, kid, but here we are.”
“Rude.” True, but rude, nonetheless.

The doctor tried to interrupt, but ran for the hills when Greer turned a glare on him that was sharp enough to peel paint.

When the sound of his stupid squeaky shoes faded into the distance, Greer said, “Sorry. I get grumpy when I’m dragged out of my nice warm bed because one of my superheroes is refusing medical treatment.”

Bryn would probably be grumpy if she’d been dragged out of Greer’s bed, too. The penthouse in the Morgan Enterprises building was plush to an almost ridiculous degree.

Killian Morgan, Greer’s husband, would also be hard to leave behind, she imagined. You know, if you were into the whole tall, dark, muscled, charming, Irish, unspeakably hot, billionaire thing. Which, who wasn’t?

But Bryn was assuming all that. It’d been a while since she’d last had any man in her bed. And she’d never had one as hot as Killian. She wasn’t sure her anxiety could handle getting naked in front of a man who was prettier than her. Greer obviously had no such trouble.   

Her boss took a seat at Bryn’s bedside. Giving her a palms-up gesture, she asked, “So? What the hell happened? It was just supposed to be a smash and grab.”

Smash and grab was what they called a common criminal apprehension. Smash ‘em unconscious, grab ‘em, and drag their ass to the police. There wasn’t a typical smash and grab Bryn couldn’t handle. Unfortunately for her, this hadn’t been a typical smash and grab.

Bryn threw her head back against the cheap hospital pillow again and winced when it felt like a rock under her poor battered brain. “Dispatch told Ellie it was a bank robbery in progress. Cops were too far out to get there in time to stop the guy. But when I went in, it became clear really fast—” Like when the fucker shoved me so hard I tripped, spun around like a top, and smashed my head on the teller counter.-- “—that he wasn’t a typical human.”

Greer winced. “Supervillain?”

“Yep.”

And if the shove hadn’t been enough to clue her in to his enhanced status, the speed with which he fled the scene certainly was. Dude must’ve gotten a triple dose of the supervillain juice in that lab because he was impressive. Impressively inconvenient for her, that is.

“Did you get any evidence for security to track him?”

Bryn raised a brow. “You mean other than his handprints on my chest?”

She wasn’t even joking. She’d probably have two giant, palm-shaped bruises right above her boobs for a week. 

Greer frowned at her. “I think I liked you better when you were bubbly and happy all the time.”

Bryn liked herself better when she’d been bubbly and happy, too. But being a major city’s only superhero after the advent of supervillains was enough to darken the soul of even the bubbliest of bubbly cheerleaders. “No, you didn’t.”

“You’re right,” Greer conceded. “I didn’t. I like you grumpy and bitchy. But save the grumpy bitchiness for everyone else, OK? I’m on your side here.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I got some video footage of the guy from my vest cam, but it’s poor quality.”

The footage was poor quality because it’d been taken while she was flying across the room, totally out of control. It had not been her finest moment on the job.   

“I assume you sent it to security?”

“No. I sent it to Rio.”

That answer satisfied Greer. If Greer was a doer, Rio Flores was a super do-er. He was Greer’s executive assistant in title, but so respected within Morgan Enterprises that everyone assumed he was Greer’s boss. Not in a misogynistic way, of course. Everyone knew Greer was a great liaison for her superheroes. It was just that Rio was calm, cool, collected, impeccably dressed, and knew everything. Greer often had food on her sweatshirt and forgot to brush her hair.

But anyhoo, sending the footage to Rio ensured it would be analyzed immediately. Especially since Rio was marrying the head of security at Morgan Enterprises in two weeks.

Greer leaned forward, resting her elbows on Bryn’s bed. “This is the third time this has happened in two months.”

Bryn groaned. This was not news to her. Or the company’s insurance provider. “I know my last few interactions with these guys could’ve gone smoother. But I’m learning a lot about how to deal with them.” Like how important it was not to let them toss you around like a rag doll. “And no matter how many hits I might’ve taken—” A lot, OK? It was a lot. “—this was the first one who escaped. I’ll find him. I promise.”

“I’m less worried about him getting away at this point than I am about you potentially getting yourself killed.”

She shrugged. “That’s part of the gig, right? You know that better than anyone.”

Bryn had taken over as Gem City’s official superhero when Greer retired five years ago. She lacked some of Greer’s flashier powers, but with the help of her Overwatch, Ellie, she’d always done a fine job. Until now, of course.

But that wasn’t entirely her fault. After all, she wasn’t the one who’d unleashed supervillains on the world. That rather dubious honor belonged to Greer’s husband.

That, however, wasn’t the point. The point was that supervillains were making her look like an incompetent twit and it was really starting to piss her off.

Greer sighed. “Look, I’ve been putting this off, but I think it’s time we got you some backup.”

Bryn felt her mouth turning down of its own volition. “Like, a partner?”

“Sure. Or…a second superhero for the city. Someone with powers that are…complementary to yours.”

She was being very careful with her words, which made Bryn itchy because Greer was never careful with her words. If she had to guess, what she imagined her boss was trying to say was that Gem City needed a hero who could kick more ass than Bryn could. After all, her ability to heal injuries and see through walls was cool and all, but it certainly didn’t help her much in a fight with a genetically enhanced criminal. “You don’t think I can do the job on my own anymore,” she said quietly.

Greer’s brow furrowed. “Kid, I know you can do the job. I’ve watched you do it for five years. But these are unprecedented times. If we got someone in here who could help fight the supervillains—and the run-of-the-mill violent psychopaths—the workload could be divided up in a way that was less likely to cause you an ER visit.”

Leaving her with low-level criminals and idiots. “No, thank you. I’ve got this.”

Greer narrowed her eyes. “You shouldn’t take it too personally. I had you as backup when I was the city’s superhero. This would be no different.”

And Rio always used to refer to her as Plan B. Or Betamax. Not great memories for her. Bryn picked at a tiny hole in her bed sheet. “I was a trainee. You’re not talking about getting me a trainee. You’re talking about hiring someone who will be better at this than me.”

She sounded petulant even to her own ears. But she couldn’t help it. Whoever caught the supervillains was going to be the city’s real superhero. Even if Greer didn’t intend to demote her, that’s what was going to happen naturally if they brought in a superhero with superior genetic gifts. 

Unless…

She sat up a little straighter and winced as her poor concussed head protested even the slight movement. “What if I find my own backup? Someone who will be willing to work under me?”

Greer frowned. “I mean, I’ve already put in a few calls to see who would be willing to come here, but if you have someone in mind, I’m fine with that. I think you need to be prepared for the worst, though. No offense, but you’re young, blonde, haven’t been on the job that long, and your powers are considered passive by some of the other superheroes. It might be hard to find someone who won’t step on you on their way to the top. Other superheroes can be a cutthroat bunch, kid.”

All true. Except Bryn knew someone who owed her one. Someone who had exactly the kind of superpowers that would be the perfect complement to her own. Someone who had absolutely zero ambitions to be a leader on the Morgan Enterprises superhero team. “It’ll be fine. I know a guy.”

Finding him, however, might be a more difficult task. Convincing him to act like a superhero might prove challenging, too. But she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Or blow it up, she supposed. ​

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