Free Blaze of Glory by Sheryl Nantus Page A

think we really need to use those now.”
    “Sure.” A beam of morning sunlight bounced off his nearly bald head. “Name’s Harris Limox. Codename Meltdown.”
    I must have given myself away with the gasp. He chuckled, grabbing a few packets of sugar and dumping them in his cup.
    “Yeah, yeah, I know. A bad guy. Never came up against you in rotation, but I’d heard of you and Mike. One helluva team.”
    “Thanks.” The half and half had taken the edge off but the coffee still could use some sweetness. “How did you make it here so fast?” I frowned. “And how’d you find me? I said I’d go back to the tower in twenty-four hours.”
    Limox nodded towards the busy street outside. “I was down in Detroit when the crap hit the wall. Hiked across the border in Windsor and grabbed a bus, first to Ottawa, but hopped off here when I got your message.” One meaty finger touched his jaw. “Scared the hell out of me when I heard you. I was half asleep on the bus and thought I was totally losing it. We got into Toronto about dawn and I headed for the tower.” He stabbed a finger into the sky. “Not hard to see that from anywhere downtown. I spotted you flying away and followed you, keeping quiet.”
    “Why?”
    He played with his cup a minute before responding. “I thought it might be a trap. Wouldn’t put it past the Agency. When I saw there wasn’t anyone hanging around, I decided to follow you for a bit, just to be sure.” He laughed. “Watched you take that guy out. Nice work.”
    I lowered my head, trying to hide my embarrassed blush. “Why were you heading for Ottawa?”
    “Asking for refugee status. Asylum.” He grinned, showing off a set of rotted teeth that both startled and depressed me. “Figured I’d take advantage of my freedom to get the hell out of the States.”
    “Except that I’m Canadian and we signed off on the North American Super Act.” My knuckles rapped the top of the table. “You’d have gotten nowhere with that. There’s no country in the world that offers asylum to supers.”
    The shocked look on his face said it all. “Damn. Must have slept through that part of the briefing.”
    I couldn’t help smiling as I took another sip of coffee. “Was part of the orientation.”
    “So you’re putting together a team to fight the bad guys.” He said it so loudly that I winced. “What, you think they care?” Limox jerked a thumb at the milling people grabbing their morning coffee and rushing off to parts unknown. “You think they give a shit about us?” He leaned in. “So why should we give a shit about them?”
    I moved in close, trying not to inhale the smell of sweat and a few days without a shower. “Because we’re supers and it’s what we do.” My eyes narrowed. “So if you’re not interested in helping them, then why are you here?”
    “I want to stay alive.” The angry whisper matched the deadness in his eyes. “Tell me you figured out how to get this out.” His fat index finger tapped the back of his neck. “’Cause I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t be trying to be the hero if you were afraid they’d pop you like a zit.”
    I leaned back in the chair. “Really. So you’re only going to help if I keep you alive.”
    “It works for me.” Limox took another sip of coffee. “I’m a bad guy, remember? I chose that for a reason.”
    A gaggle of schoolgirls paused at the corner, waiting for the light to change, and his concentration snapped from the coffee to the barely-covering-vital-parts skirts they were wearing. I sighed. Now I remembered the briefing on Meltdown. It was part of a general know-your-enemy ramble just in case we had to fill in for an A-lister.
    “Where’s your Guardian?” I glanced around in a fit of paranoia. No one seemed to be paying attention to us, grabbing their daily or hourly cup of caffeine and heading out the door. We were just another pair of strange people sitting in a coffee shop rambling on about nothing.
    Limox looked