Blindside by Jayden Alexander Page B

stopped shooting up, is that it? You got your powers back.”
    “That’s what you’re afraid of?” With a small laugh, Mac shrugged out of his jacket. “You want a gut check? Go ahead.”
    Brass knucks glinted dull gold on the gray desk. “I wouldn’t know if you fake it.”
    “It’s like a blink. Come at me slow, and I’ll be able to control it. You do it fast, instinct trumps over will.” And Mac lifted his arms to leave his ribs defenseless.
    “Makes sense.” Steel slammed into bruised and aching flesh. Iced agony exploded in Mac’s stomach, Doc’s strength surprising for a cop ten years at a desk. Mac didn’t fight the need to double over, the burst of pain preferable to conflicting emotions.
    “Satisfied?” A good way to disguise a fit of coughing.
    Doc’s pale gaze glittered over the coffee cup. “For now.”
    “You still don’t trust me.” Hard to hide irony under short, ragged fights for breath.
    “Trust you? I hate your kind. Running around with your powers, thinking you’re the law. Or you’re above it.” Williams tossed the cup into the trash with the others. “You’re the only means I have to deal with this Rook. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy—”
    A quick beep of the intercom cut off the rest. “Commander, media crew is here.”
    “Yes, send her in. Amy Avalon. ” His smile bloomed wide when Mac dropped the pretense of nonchalance.
    “You didn’t hire me to talk to a reporter.”
    Williams smoothed out his tie. “You get the Night Rook and you’re redemption itself with your hero’s mug. You don’t, then I was right for all these years. Either way, its time you tell San Mike you’re back, and I figure it’ll be good to do that in my office. Assure the people you’re under control.”
    “And pave your way to the commissioner’s tower?”
    “If it works out.” Another flash of white camera-ready teeth. “Shall I tell Amy you pulled out?” As if on cue, the heavy door burst open and threw Mac back into the past. Same hairstyle in fire-engine red, same glossy, frosted mouth twisted in a smile. Same business suit and heels in matching, eye-searing red.
    “Mr. Mac Gamble. Narc.” With her camera crew behind her and a mic clutched in her crimson-tipped hand, Amy stalked toward him. “Pleasure to meet you, finally, in person.”
    He hadn’t seen that grin since her triumphant voice spelled out his name for the cameras. “Ms. Avalon.”
    Her practiced smile seemed just this side of grim. “My sources indicate you’re consulting with the Night Rook investigation.” Amy settled into a chair, crossing tanned legs. A fringe of bangs dusted over eyes sparkling at the promise of ratings. “Can you confirm?”
    Williams watched with a blank face, probably ready to bust out the appropriate expression.
    “Your sources are correct.” Mac faced the winking red eye of the camera.
    Amy threw him a withering smile and took out a small notepad. “Can you confirm this vigilante has your gifts?”
    He pictured Lana in skintight leather, blood on her arm because she hadn’t had the “gift” long enough to understand when the shields got low. “I haven’t seen the full extent of what the Night Rook can do.”
    “You have no powers now, isn’t that correct? You’re still using an inhibitor serum?”
    “Chief Williams checked moments ago.” And he’d have another bruise to prove it.
    The laser momentarily left his face to focus on San Mike’s future commissioner. Williams assumed the appropriate expression of the tired but relentless man in charge. The perfect photo op. “I can confirm Mr. Gamble is—for now—without ‘gifts.’” He busted out the air quotes.
    More sparkling teeth. “Too bad we couldn’t see your method of testing.”
    “Perhaps another time.”
    This garnered another glittering smile. “I understand your abilities run on instinct? You couldn’t, say, fake that you don’t have them? Commander?”
    “Doc,