More Than Jamie Baker (Jamie Baker #2) (25 page)

“You’re sorry?” the man shouted. “My son is dead! An innocent little boy! You wouldn’t help him, but you’ll come to save this brat?”

The man shook the terrified girl in his arms and I accidentally blitzed all electronic equipment in the immediate area. I also blew up my necklace again, darn it.

“Where were you this morning when my son was drowning in the neighbor’s pool?”

I felt bad about the guy’s kid, but he was seriously starting to piss me off. He only had a minute or two more of talk left before I just gave up and went Super Jamie on his butt.

“I didn’t know about your son,” I said through clenched teeth. “I don’t have some magical, psychic mind powers that tell me when someone’s in trouble. Where were
you
when your son needed your help?”

“He was passed out on the couch, drunk!” the little girl blurted. “It’s where he always is!”

“Shut up, you worthless piece of trash! You were supposed to be watching him! It’s your fault he’s dead!”

The man started to shake the girl again and that was it. I had to do something. If I could just get him to move his gun away from the little girl’s head, I could move fast enough to take him down before he had a chance to fire it or throw himself off the building. The only way I could think of to do that was give him something he wanted to point it at more than his daughter.

“Hey, douchebag!” I yelled. “I’ve got news for you. You’re the reason your son is dead, and if you don’t let your daughter go right now you’ll be joining him on the other side.”

I waited for the man to turn his gun on me, but he kept it plastered to the little girl’s temple.

I could hear the negotiator’s frantic questions and commands, but I ignored them. This needed to end.

“This garbage ain’t mine,” the man sneered at me. “She’s my slut wife’s kid. I never wanted her, and she let my son die. If you come any closer, I’ll kill her. I’ll kill us both. I swear I will!”

The man took a small step back, bringing himself as close to the edge as he could go and still keep his balance.

I took a breath. I didn’t think the guy had the guts to really do it, but what if I was wrong? What if I just pissed this guy off and he went through with his threats? I was pretty sure I could catch them before they went over if that happened, but seeing that little girl so close to the edge made me realize it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Okay,” I said pulling my hands back up in surrender, the way the negotiator was pleading with me to do. “All right. I’m not coming any closer, and I’m turning off the power.”

I took a step back and forced my energy to settle down. The man with the gun seemed to gain some confidence once my eyes were back to normal.

“Look, you don’t really want to die, do you?” I asked, then pointed to the little girl. “And she’s not really the person you want to hurt, is she? If she were, I wouldn’t be here.”

The man pushed the gun harder against his stepdaughter’s head, his grip on the handle tightened so much that his knuckles went white. His eyes sharpened on me.

“There are multiple sharpshooters pointing guns at your head right now.” I didn’t know if that was true, but it sounded good. “The only reason they haven’t shot you yet is because if you die you’ll fall and take that little girl with you. If you shoot her, you’re a dead man.”

“You think I care? My son is
dead
.”

I shrugged. “I think you’d rather see me die than her, and you won’t have time to kill us both.”

“Angel!” the negotiator hissed. “What are you doing? Just ask him what his demands are. Ask him how you can make it up to him. Play up your remorse for his son’s death. Don’t put ideas into his head. He’s unstable. He really will shoot you!”

“Exactly,” I whispered and then raised my voice to address the crazy man again. “Go ahead and do it,” I said. “Shoot me. I deserve it. People have been hurt because of me. People like your son.”

The gun flicked my direction just the tiniest bit, but it wasn’t far enough away from the girl’s head for me to make a move. The plan was working though, so I had to keep going. “You know what I was doing this morning while your son was dying? Watching reruns of
So You Think You Can Dance
on the Internet.”

Bingo. That totally did it. The man called me a very derogatory name and flung his pistol in my direction. The moment he acted, I took off at full speed. Before he even had time to pull the trigger, I ripped the gun from his hands and yanked both him and the girl a safe distance from the ledge. The girl scraped her knee when she fell to the ground, but she didn’t seem too mad about it when I snapped the handcuffs in half and told her to run to the police. I don’t think people had even made sense of what happened before the girl was racing across the roof to safety.

“Hey, negotiator man, it’s all clear,” I said as I pressed a knee into the perp’s back and pulled his hands painfully behind him. “Come get this jerk and throw his butt in jail for a long time.”

Seconds later a whole team of guys did exactly that. There was chaos for a minute as they dragged the guy off, and then I was left standing on the rooftop with a small handful of cops, the negotiator, the grumpy guy who seemed to be in charge of the operation, and the news helicopters that had been circling, getting the entire thing on film.

“Well done, Angel,” the negotiator said as I handed him his microphone back. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

I wanted to feel good, but the sick feeling in my gut hadn’t left. “Please don’t thank me. In a way, all of this was my fault. That man did all this to get to me.”

The grumpy cop huffed, annoyed that I’d taken responsibility before he could shove it in my face. The negotiator rolled his eyes at the other man and said, “You can’t blame yourself for that man’s actions, but there are better ways of using the gifts you’ve been given. Come back to the station with me. I could introduce you to a lot of people. You could do so much more good, help so many more people if you were working with us instead of around us.”

The guy seemed sincere, but it was an offer I could never accept. His face fell in disappointment when I shook my head. “I’m sorry. If I turned myself in, who knows what would happen to me. The government might lock me up because they are scared of my power, or they’d try to study me.”

“They wouldn’t.”

I shook my head again. “You can’t promise that, and I can’t risk it. Thanks for having faith in me, though. I’m really sorry about what happened today, but I have to go now.”

“Now hold on, young lady!” Captain Frowns A Lot started to yell.

I wasn’t in the mood to hear him lecture and threaten me—and I certainly wasn’t going to let him arrest me—so I took off. I was on the ground out front of the building before he even finished his sentence.

I was about to make a run for it, but I saw all the camera crews there and I made myself stop. People went crazy when they realized who was suddenly standing in front of them. I waited out the frenzy of cheers and questions, then asked the nearest reporter for her microphone. “I just want to say one thing,” I said, ignoring her questions. “This is the last time I ever respond to a threat like this. Anyone out there who thinks putting innocent people in danger is a good way to get to me, know that no matter what you do, I won’t show up. Policemen of the world, if it ever happens again, you’d better just kill the jerks because I’m not coming. The United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists and from now on, neither do I.” I started to hand the microphone back to the reporter, but couldn’t resist saying one last thing. “Oh, and
Super Babe
? Really? You guys couldn’t get more creative than that? Worst nickname ever. Stick with Chelsea’s Angel, or come up with something less idiotic. Please. I’m begging.”

And with that last plea, I was gone.

After the thing in LA
, I went straight to my parents’ house. I knew they’d be beyond upset. As expected, they fussed over me for a few minutes and then lectured me. Per their usual MO, they begged me to reconsider the superhero thing, but I wasn’t going to budge. I enjoyed it. I needed it. Doing this was helping me as much as it was helping others.

My mother’s main argument was that it was dangerous—even though she’d been the one to text me what was going on—and my father’s was that my identity was going to be found out and the government was going to lock me up somewhere. He was every bit as fond of theories as Ryan was. His were just of the conspiracy variety, whereas Ryan’s were always more scientific in nature.

The way I saw the situation—not that I was theorizing in any variety—was that because Visticorp knew about my powers I was already in danger and people were already trying to lock me up. I didn’t see any reason to stop helping people when safety didn’t really exist.

Of course, voicing my argument only made them freak out worse. I swear, if I were still a minor living under their roof they’d have us living under a rock in Alaska by now.

My dad was using the word “aliases” when Ryan finally called me. I was so glad for the excuse to end the conversation.

“The news came on in the lobby of the hotel during Gene’s banquet. You have no idea how hard it was not to flip out in front of him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. What could you have done? Not go?”

“Exactly!” Have I mentioned how much I love my boyfriend? “My parents were so mad at me. They were only scared for me though, so I guess they’re forgiven.”

“I didn’t like watching that guy point a gun at you.”

“I almost wish he’d gotten a shot off. Then they could nail him with attempted murder along with all his other charges. Chelsea’s Angel would
so
show up for that subpoena.”

“So, what did the police think of you?”

“Pretty much what we’ve talked about before. There was one guy on a major power trip that wanted to haul me back to the station in cuffs, but most of the people there had a hero worship thing going on. The negotiator guy was pretty cool. I kind of liked working with him. He tried to convince me to join the force, but didn’t seem all that surprised when I said no. I’m mostly worried about this kind of thing happening again.”

Ryan laughed. “I could tell with your whole ‘I don’t negotiate with terrorists’ speech. Very hardcore of you, babe, and so hot. But I really did have a hard time watching you out there. I don’t think I’m going to feel better until I have physical proof that you’re okay. I’m on my way back to school now. You should meet me there. I need you in my arms ASAP.”

“I’ll come in a bit. I think my dad’s gotten enough lecturing out of his system for the night. I just have to sit through dinner.” My mom is such a stress cooker. She’d already been preparing a meal even before I got there. “You want me to bring you some leftovers?”

“The only thing I want is you, so eat fast.”

I couldn’t eat fast enough. Finally, we were starting to wrap it up when the doorbell rang. My parents were still in high alert paranoia mode, and both looked at me. I listened and was a little surprised by our guests. “It’s Becky and our friend Teddy. I was with Teddy when I saw the news. I bailed on him without much explanation. They’re probably just checking on me to make sure I’m okay.”

They were. “What happened?” Becky demanded as soon as she was in the door. “Is everything okay?”

My mom was quick—so much better with the excuses than me. “We’re all okay. We’ve had a death in the family—my aunt. She was very old and she went peacefully, but it was pretty sudden. I was really upset. I’m afraid I called Jamie in a fit of tears and scared her half to death. I’m sorry we worried you.”

“Oh, Mrs. Baker, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, honey. I’m sorry it’s under such sad circumstances, but I am so happy you’ve stopped by. It’s been weeks.” She hugged Becky—whom she worshiped as much as Ryan for helping to bring me out of my Ice Queen phase. Then she smiled at Teddy. The poor guy was still holding my basket of laundry. Mom did a double take, but didn’t ask as she took the clothes from him. “Are you guys hungry? We were just having dinner and there’s plenty extra—I’m a bit of a stress cooker.”

I had to smile to myself at her choice of words. When your parents are the only people you talk to or hang out with for over a year, you get to know them pretty well.