Free Powerless by Tera Lynn Childs, Tracy Deebs Page A

ability to melt steel, so I move on. I’ve searched the office, so I head for the bathroom—yes, he has his own bathroom attached to his office, complete with shower and steam room.
    I can’t imagine the Superhero Collective traipsing through a bathroom to get to a secret sub-level, but maybe that makes it the perfect access point. The shower, specifically, would be a really clever place for a secret door. All that tile provides plenty of places to hide an access button. Before I can do much more than step into the shower, I hear Mr. Malone’s office door opening and muffled voices.
    Oh shit! He’s here! I have absolutely no excuse to be in Mr. Malone’s office except for the truth, and it’s not like I can just blurt that out. Who, me? I’m just investigating an accusation made by villains who I’m not even supposed to remember. But I believed them enough to doubt the president of the League’s integrity. Yeah. That would go over well.
    I’m totally screwed.
    I would trade anything for the power of invisibility right now.
    I launch into full-blown panic mode. Glancing frantically around the small room, I try to find a place to hide. It’s not like there are a lot of options—the shower is a glass cubicle, the cabinet under the sink is stuffed with Kleenex boxes and other stuff, and the towel closet has shelves that only leave about two inches between them and the door.
    I settle on the steam room—it has a full-length door with only a small, square window. Hopefully Mr. Malone’s not here for a late-night sauna session.
    As the voices get closer, I slip inside and close the door carefully, holding the handle so it doesn’t click into place.
    “I don’t know, Rex,” a male voice I don’t recognize says. “I’m not happy with this recent breach of security.”
    “I understand, but it’s fine. Sit down, have a drink.” There’s the tinkle of what sounds like ice cubes on glass. “They didn’t get anything.”
    I can’t believe how clearly I can hear them. What if they can hear me too? I try to quiet my panicked breathing.
    With all the money Mr. Malone spent on this office, you would think he’d have spent some on soundproofing. But isn’t that typical? All show and no substance.
    I press myself back against the wall.
    “They knew to come here. To look for the missing villains—”
    My heart stops. Terror rips through me and for a second I forget how to breathe.
    “Again, they didn’t find anything or we would have heard about it by now. And if they try to come back, they will run into deadly security measures.”
    “I’m not sure that’s good enough,” a different male voice says.
    “It is, John,” Mr. Malone insists. “Trust me.”
    The other men don’t respond, or if they do, their voices are too soft for me to make out. They must be displeased though, because Mr. Malone suddenly booms, “Why don’t you come down with me? You can take a look at what I’ve done today. I assure you, it will put your minds at ease.”
    “That might be best,” the first man says. “I’d like to look over the new security, make sure there are no flaws.”
    “Absolutely, absolutely.” Mr. Malone’s joviality sounds forced, but that’s not exactly a surprise. I’ve been around the Malone house enough to know he hates being questioned about anything. He gets furious every time Rebel stands up to him over something stupid. I can’t imagine how angry he is right now.
    He would never trip over himself to please the other members of the Collective. So who are these other men that Mr. Malone feels the need to placate them?
    The voices fade a little, and I hear what I think is the office door shutting. Then I don’t hear anything.
    For a few seconds I just stand there, shaking, my heart in my throat. I can’t believe how careless I was, how close I came to getting caught. And I really, really can’t believe what I just overheard.
    I replay the conversation, the sick feeling in my stomach getting