Supervillainess (Part One) by Lizzy Ford Page B

townhome, past a formal
living room, home theatre, and large kitchen. When he reached the
sliding glass doors on the backside of the house, he understood why
this was called Millionaires’ Row.
    Kimber opened the doors and stepped onto a
large deck overlooking the river. A patch of green grass ran from
the edge of the entertaining area to a private pier. Far across the
expanse of water, stately mansions rose up from the banks.
    He leaned against the railing of the deck,
gazing at the lights reflecting off the glossy surface of the
river. The air smelled of water, and giant hedges rose on either
sides of the property to create a sense of privacy. The patter of
rain on the roof and awning overhead was soothing, soft.
    It was by far the nicest house he’d ever
seen. After several deep breaths, he returned to the interior.
    Kimber explored three out of four floors,
until he was satisfied he knew the location of everything he
needed.
    “Maybe I’m glad I didn’t refuse,” he said to
himself, observing the large guestroom he had selected. It was the
size of a hotel suite, complete with its own kitchenette.
    Too tired to venture to the fourth floor, he
stripped and took his first hot shower in a week, and then sank
into a plush bed to sleep.
     
    ***
     
    Kimber awoke to the scent of bacon and eggs.
His nose wrinkled, and he stretched back. His first solid night of
sleep in a week hadn’t been disturbed by voices over the intercom
or dreams about running through fire to save his neighbors. Instead
of awaking refreshed, though, he felt as if the events of last
weekend and his week of double shifts were just catching up to
him.
    His body ached, and he was as tired as when
he dropped into bed last night. He sighed and reached for the phone
on the pillow beside his. It was a few minutes before seven. His
alarm hadn’t gone off. It was the smell that drew him from
sleep.
    Kimber sat up abruptly.
    Someone else was in the house.
    Had Tish been wrong about the dates of her
friend’s vacation?
    He dressed hastily and left the room with
his backpack, preparing a profuse apology for why he was sleeping
in a stranger’s house.
    He reached the last stair and glanced
towards the door. Was it rude for him just to leave? Did he owe the
owner an apology?
    Did he really want to deal with any more
embarrassment after the articles the local media continued to
feature?
    His mind decided, he struck off towards the
front door.
    “Mister Wellington,” came a deep, male voice
from behind him.
    Kimber drew a breath and prepared to
apologize. Turning, he was momentarily taken aback by the size of
the man. Kimber had a large frame – but this man was nothing short
of menacing. Seven feet tall, blocky shoulders, dark hair streaked
with white, and a black suit.
    “Your breakfast is ready,” the stranger said
and turned, returning to the kitchen.
    “Uh … okay.” Kimber trailed.
“Breakfast?”
    The massive man didn’t respond. He went to
the breakfast nook overlooking the river and stood to the side,
hands crossed before him as he waited. On the table was a plate of
food and steaming cup of coffee.
    Kimber looked from the man to the food,
perplexed.
    “If you prefer, I can make French toast,”
the man offered.
    “No, no. This is great.” Kimber approached.
He set his possessions behind the chair and sat. “You’re sure this
is for me?”
    “It is,” the large man answered.
    “You’re a … cook?”
    “Among other things.”
    “How did you get in here?”
    “My boss owns the place. She told me to make
sure you were comfortable.”
    Tish’s friend had gone all out. Kimber dug
into his breakfast, not about to turn down a free, home-cooked
meal, even if the large man standing over the table while he ate
was distracting. The food was flavored well, hearty and fresh. When
he had finished, the other man swept his dishes away.
    Kimber rose. “Thanks,” he said and gathered
his belongings.
    “I can drive you to work.”
    “That’s