Powerless by Tera Lynn Childs, Tracy Deebs Read Free Book Online Page A

a big, beefy hand around my forearm.
    “Don’t touch me!” I yank at my arm, but he won’t let go.
    Fine.
    Annoyed all over again, I fork over my ID and watch as Suit 2 swipes it through a small, handheld machine. It beeps, long and high-pitched, and I tense despite myself. I have a reason for being here. I’m not doing anything wrong. But these guys don’t look like they care one way or the other. For a moment I have visions of being swept into a nondescript vehicle and taken away to parts unknown.
    If that happens though, I’m not going without a fight. I am sick and tired of being pushed around.
    “Thank you, Ms. Swift.” Suit 2 hands my ID back to me. “Have a safe night.”
    And then they’re turning away, walking away, as if they didn’t just threaten to physically detain me without cause. As if they didn’t just grab me. I guess I should be grateful they’re letting me go, but all I am is pissed.
    Determined to get out of here before things get even more screwed up, I make a beeline for the door, plowing straight into my best friend who is walking in as I’m rushing out. Rebel wraps me in a vanilla-and-leather-scented hug.
    “Oh, Kenna! Thank God you’re okay!” She squeezes me tight enough to cut off my oxygen supply.
    And for a second—just a second—I cling to her.
    “I’m fine,” I tell her, pulling away. “What are you doing here?” I keep my voice to a whisper, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because I still have the heebie-jeebies after my run-in with the suits.
    Rebel has no such heebie-jeebies—and no such reason to keep her voice lower than a shout. “I was worried about you! My dad got the alarm that there was a break-in. Then I started thinking about how you like to work late in your mom’s lab and I tried to text you, but you never answered. I drove by your house and your car wasn’t there. I freaked out.”
    She stops to catch a breath and I take advantage of the pause to get out a few words of my own.
    “I wasn’t hurt,” I tell her. “The villains who broke in were looking for something—I don’t know what—but they didn’t do much damage, at least nothing the Cleaners can’t fix.”
    Rebel looks relieved. “So nobody was hurt?”
    “Nope. Just some broken glass and scorched walls. Your dad and Riley are on it,” I say. “Oh, and by the way, did you know your brother has taken to wearing a cape?”
    Rebel rolls her eyes. “He swears it’s just a coat. But I’m so glad you’re all right!”
    She throws her arms around me again, and again I put up with it, despite her studded leather belt digging into my stomach. After all, that’s kind of par for the course in a Rebel hug.
    My best friend is about as different from her dad and brother as she can get and still be a member of the Malone family. In fact, while there’s never a doubt in anyone’s mind that Mr. Malone and Riley are heroes —they pretty much wear it on their sleeves…or their capes —at first glance, most people in our world would assume Rebel is a villain. She’s the sweetest person I know (to everyone except her dad, at least), but it’s easy to see how someone could make that mistake.
    Tonight, she’s dressed in a short leather skirt with ripped-up, melting tights in black and white, a black tank that proclaims “Love is the movement,” and worn combat boots that have definitely seen better days. Her razor-cut, bleached-almost-white hair is short and spiky, and she’s wearing more jewelry than I even own: four earrings in her left ear, three in her right, a bunch of mismatched bracelets on both wrists, and a ring on every finger. Even her bright blue eyes—so like her dad’s and brother’s—look punk with heavy, black eyeliner and fake lashes.
    “Were you freaking out?” she asks when she finally pulls away.
    “You know me,” I say with a meaningful shrug. Rebel is the only person besides my mom who knows about my secret immunity and that I can’t be harmed by superpowers.