Free A New Day (StrikeForce #1) by Colleen Vanderlinden

the anchor went to an interview with the West Bloomfield chief of police.
    “So, chief. Is this what I think it is? Is our burglar a powered person?” the anchor in the studio asked.
    “That is what it appears to be. Which may very well explain why he was so hard to apprehend.”
    I let out a little breath. They still thought they were dealing with a dude. This was a good thing.
    “And will StrikeForce be involved in the investigation as a result?” the anchor asked.
    On screen, the chief nodded. “I met with Alpha right before coming on the air with you. He has promised StrikeForce’s assistance, as well as their partnership in trying to get an identity. There aren’t that many powered people around. It won’t be hard to narrow it down.”
    “Do we believe this is the same being who destroyed the vacant Eight Mile Motel?” the anchor asked, and they cut to video of the pile of rubble I’d left in my wake.
    “Right now, that is the assumption we have to go with. Eyewitness reports indicate someone flying away from that scene. It’s not all that common of an ability.”
    “This being seems dangerous.”
    “Indeed. The public should consider this person to be extremely dangerous. Any indication of someone flying, someone with a ridiculous amount of strength, should be called in to either local law enforcement or the StrikeForce hotline. Do not attempt to approach the suspect. Stay safe, stay in your home or vehicle, and let the professionals deal with him.”
    The news went to commercial and I sat there numbly. I was getting sloppy. Stupid. I should have taken off on foot, and then flown away later. I knew better. I’d always valued my anonymity. A figure in black, skulking into houses and emptying them. That had always been all I was. Now that they’d connected the two sides of my identity, now that there was that super powered angle… shit.
    My life was about to get more complicated. StrikeForce wasn’t the most active organization, but they had some hard hitters. They’d taken in a few super powered troublemakers in the past few years. It wasn’t all about photo ops for Alpha and, if nothing else, they could prove to be a definite pain in the ass.
    I tried to soothe myself with the fact that they were still sure I was a guy. So they weren’t all that close, and as long as I laid low for a while, it would blow over. Or at least the immediate heat would.
    And the next thought I had was that I could be used as a bargaining chip. Damian lived the same life I did. What if he got caught? What if he decided to use me, turn me over in exchange for lighter punishment? What if he blabbed?
    “You’re being paranoid,” I muttered, snapping the television off. I paced. What I really wanted to do was put my fist through something, but that would be an even dumber idea now than it had been the first time I’d done it.
    Luther would be pissed. I could look forward to a lecture from her, no matter how good the loot was. Any heat on me was potential heat on her, and Luther was all about Luther. Luther wouldn’t hurt me. Couldn’t now, actually. But she knew who I was. She likely knew who my mother was and where she lived and worked.
    You wouldn’t think she’d be worth worrying about. Geriatric Polish lady, right? Here’s the thing, though: you don’t stay in this business for very long without being able to make damn sure that your secrets stay secrets.
    Her sisters, her nieces… there was a whole family empire built on fencing stolen goods and sharing the profits. None of them would be happy with the petty thief who ended up blowing the whole thing wide open.
    I couldn’t fuck up again. Which meant no jobs, no matter how bitchy Luther got about it.
    I’d get by, but it would be tight. With what I had stuffed in my dresser, I would be able to pay Mama’s crazy medical bills, but I wouldn’t be able to help anyone else. And the holidays were coming up and that was always one of those times when people who