The midday sun was blinding.
Jack Kadere had barely stepped out of the hotel lobby when he glanced to his side.
Sunlight caught Laurel's brown hair where it draped over her shoulders. Her face was flushed, her expression still carrying a trace of languid exhaustion from the morning's training. The combination was unexpectedly captivating.
"Should we go back?" Jack asked.
"Go back?" Laurel blinked. "We just came out. The room's already checked out."
She turned to look at him—and found him already looking at her.
His dark eyes held something different from the clinical attention he'd given her during training. This was interest. Possession. The kind of gaze a man gave a woman he intended to have.
The directness of it made Laurel look away before she realized she was doing it. Somehow, fully clothed under his stare, she felt more exposed than she had naked in the hotel room.
She didn't know what to say.
If he'd pushed the issue when they first entered the room, or immediately after the training session, she might have resented it—but she would have complied. That was the deal she'd agreed to.
But this? A question? An option?
She had no idea how to respond.
"Never mind." Jack's tone was light, already moving past the moment. "Let's keep some novelty. I won't supervise your training this afternoon. Arrange it yourself."
Laurel nodded automatically. By the time she processed the words, he was already walking away, one hand raised in a casual wave.
She stood there for a long moment before finally heading in the opposite direction.
She hadn't gone far when her mother appeared, worry and anger warring across Dinah Lance's face.
"Are you okay? Did that man do anything to you?"
Laurel shook her head.
"Really?" Dinah's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Her daughter had been taken to a hotel first thing in the morning. Now she was walking out flushed, her legs unsteady. Dinah had enough experience to know what that usually meant.
Laurel explained the actual situation—the training, the supervision, nothing more.
Dinah frowned.
He hadn't revealed who was behind the attack. He hadn't touched her daughter beyond what training required. Just... supervised?
After a moment's consideration, Dinah decided to observe for now. She'd already reported last night's incident; the deaths of several agents weren't something she could handle alone. Her instructions from above were clear: stand by, and gather as much intelligence on Jack Kadere as possible.
---
After parting ways with Laurel, Jack didn't return to his apartment.
He walked without destination, turning the problem over in his mind.
What did a hero need?
A suit. Gadgets.
If he was going to push Laurel toward becoming Black Canary ahead of schedule, both were essential.
He'd already considered the options. Suits could come from Wayne Enterprises—Talia al Ghul's cover identity hadn't been blown, and she was currently the largest shareholder in the Wayne Group. Given their previous... connection, getting a uniform made should be straightforward enough.
Standard equipment could come from the same source.
The iconic piece—the sonic device—was another matter. For that, he'd need to visit Central City and find Cisco Ramon.
He didn't know the man. He didn't have money to offer.
Did either of those things matter?
No. They didn't.
Without realizing it, Jack found himself in one of the city's larger parks.
Despite the heat, people were scattered across the grounds—eating lunch on benches, couples stretched out on blankets, joggers cutting through on the paved paths. The smell of cut grass mixed with distant food cart grease.
Jack spotted a large oak with generous shade and settled against its trunk, legs stretched out on the grass. Dappled sunlight shifted across his face as the branches swayed overhead. He'd ask Felicity to help him contact Talia once she got off work. For now, he watched the park around him and let his thoughts drift.
The peaceful moment lasted approximately ninety seconds.
A woman burst out from behind a cluster of trees, running hard.
Long burgundy hair. Black dress. She glanced over her shoulder as she ran, the posture of someone being chased.
When she turned forward and spotted Jack sitting against the oak, her eyes lit up with sudden inspiration.
She changed direction instantly, closing the distance in seconds. Before Jack could speak, she dropped directly onto his lap, grabbed both his hands and wrapped them around her waist, hooked her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
Very proactive. Very committed. Very thorough.
Her mouth pressed against his like she intended to devour him whole—like the next logical step was tearing off clothes right here on the grass. Her technique was clumsy, rushed, but she threw herself into the performance completely, clutching him tight enough that her body heat bled through her dress and his shirt.
Jack made a low sound of amusement against her lips.
Then his hands tightened on her waist and lifted, rolling her off his lap and onto the grass beneath him in one smooth motion.
She landed on her back with a soft grunt of surprise, the ground cool against her shoulders. Before she could protest, he was braced above her, forearms planted on either side of her head, hands cradling her skull—and his mouth found hers again.
This kiss was nothing like her desperate ambush.
He kissed her slowly. Deliberately. With the unhurried confidence of a man who had decided to take what was offered and intended to enjoy the process.
Irritation flickered through her—she hadn't asked for this, hadn't planned on actually—
But the position hid her better than sitting in his lap had. Anyone approaching would see his back, his shoulders, his body covering hers. Her face was completely obscured.
The practical realization made her relax slightly. And once she stopped fighting the situation, she found herself responding—lips parting, tongue meeting his, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
What had started as a frantic act shifted into something that felt uncomfortably genuine.
Footsteps pounded nearby. Heavy. Purposeful.
Two men in black suits and dark sunglasses—standard government-issue look, like they'd walked off the set of a conspiracy thriller—jogged into view.
They scanned the area. Their gazes swept past the couple tangled together on the grass, lingered for half a second, then moved on. Even hardened professionals found public displays of affection awkward to examine too closely.
"Search separately," one muttered to the other.
They split up and moved deeper into the park, checking behind trees and around the restroom buildings.
The woman beneath Jack didn't move. Neither did he.