Swerve (19 page)

One week later

Keliegh lay in the hospital bed. It was more than obvious that he was hurt worse than she could have first imagined. Her heart tightened. She wanted to touch him, hold him, to beg him to forgive her. But no, she had to only watch him lay there, helpless. Maybe he wasn't in pain. Perhaps the burns would not scar his beauty. It was the best she could hope for. His face was peaceful, soft, and despite the obvious cuts and bruises, still as handsome as ever. She would only imagine his soulful brown eyes as they were closed in deep sleep.

“I'm sorry, Keliegh,” she whispered after making her way closer to his bedside. “I'm sorry I'm who I am and must do what I must do. It's a bigger calling than this life I've been living. It's so big. It's…” Romia shook her head. “I have to find my father. I have to help him bring Maxwell down. I didn't know at first but I know now and…” She shook her head, feeling the confusion coming on again, the tug at her ethics. Her entire life had been a lie. Her training in martial arts, her life in the foster home, all a ploy and plot designed by her mother for this day. Surely her mother knew this day would come and maybe she had hoped to join her in this mission—side by side as avengers of justice.

Again she shook her head as if questioning the justice that Maxwell Huntington claimed needing to be avenged. He was a liar and a fraud. He was the bad guy. It hadn't taken too many hours to find out the truth about the Phoenix team.

Maxwell's story changed so often she had no more trust for him and no choice but to do the research on her own. He was a fishy character from the start, and there was no doubt in her mind his claims of helping her after those men tried to kill her were selfish. For all she knew, he'd set her up; hell, he'd done it with Jerry and Olga. He'd ruined her career and, dare she say, her life. He needed to pay for that one just on GP.

But now to realize that he could have been behind the murder of her mother was too much. “And this dance, this Sherlock-Moriarty dance that he's doing with my father…I have to be a part of this ending,” she said to Keliegh as he lay there, not hearing her.

“Why he is so obsessed with trying to destroy the Phoenix team, I don't know. Heck, I don't even know what side of the law the Phoenix team is on. Maybe we're all on the same side and this is some personal inner, office conflict,” she said, thinking of some of her fellow officers and how much she didn't like them and vice versa.

Nonetheless, Maxwell's efforts to make her believe that her father and mother had been nothing more than vicious killers and terrorists had failed. This was because Romia was a cop, a good cop. Maxwell failed to realize she questioned everything and that his answers were weak and, therefore, she believed the opposite of all he'd told her. She believed the Phoenix had a bigger purpose than simply making trouble for the government. There had to be more to the story than what he presented.

Over the past few months, Romia had pondered the stories Maxwell had told her and some of the stories he'd told Royale. She'd stolen away time to research the names he dropped so carelessly. She found only the opposite to be true about her grandfather. She found that the man who had called himself the Phoenix was in fact a double agent—true—but the facts were, at least in her mind, that he was working to rid the world of those who had abused their power and authority. What looked like insanity was in fact genius misguided. The idea of finding a group of people with extraordinary abilities was like creating a bunch of comic book superheroes. Only the result wasn't what he had expected. There was no parade. There were no showers of confetti or congratulations. There was only angry, jealous people staring, pointing, and rejecting the “freaks” who stepped in to do what they themselves could not. Romia could relate to that.

Unorthodox were the Phoenix's ways, unconventional his undertaking, true, but Romia could see past that to his deeper mission. And, in her mind and heart, Maxwell was misleading her into believing that her grandfather was a bad person. It was unfortunate that she felt such a lack of trust in Maxwell, because for now she had to follow him. She had to follow him if for no other reason than to find her father. To find Stone would bring about clarity and that's what she sought now. She would let no one and nothing get in her way of seeking clarity. She needed it for herself and she promised it to Royale.

Royale didn't trust Maxwell either, and that was hard on him considering Maxwell had taken him and gave him what the nuns did not. But then again, Royale, too, was a puzzle of blurry lines. Nonetheless, Royale had earned her respect and friendship, which was hard to do. When they returned to Europe together, she and Royale would visit that convent and get to the bottom of his existence. There were secrets there at that convent and together they would find them.

“We could die in the dark, you know,” Royale had said one night as they ran. They often ran at night, enjoying the silence of the air, filling it only with their breathing as they cleared mile after mile, strengthening themselves for a battle that Maxwell said was coming. The battle neither understood.

“Not me, I refuse to not understand this war.”

“Then you agree we have been drafted.”

“I have. I don't know about you. You seem content to serve.”

“No. I'm not. I've only followed to see where this will end. I have only done what is required to find answers.”

“You've killed to find answers to questions you don't even have?”

“Oh,” Royale chuckled, turning and running backward after getting in front of her. “I have many questions. I'm just not openly inquisitive as you. I don't show my hands as easily as you.”

“Are you saying that after all these years you've been with Maxwell you have not asked in the open what is his purpose?”

“Yes. His purpose is to find this man Stone and stop him from becoming as powerful as his father the Phoenix was.”

“Hmm, I don't believe it. I believe it's more than that.”

“What do you believe?” Royale asked.

“I believe you're expecting me to show my hand too easily,” she said in French, showing that she'd been catching on quickly to the language. He laughed.

Yes, she believed Maxwell had an ulterior motive for wanting to find Stone, and once finding him, he would expose it.

And I believe he'll die at my father's hands,
she thought suddenly as if realizing that thought for the first time. A shiver ran down her spin.

At that moment too, Keliegh moved slightly, causing Romia to jump. If he opened his eyes, she knew it would be too late to run, too late to hide.

“I can't let him see me,” she mumbled. Her shame was more than she could handle. She didn't want him to look at her, to see her, not now, not after all the pain her life had caused him. Whether she understood any of the life she now lived, or not, it didn't matter; she was the reason poor Keliegh had suffered this way.

He had tried to save her from her destiny.

His eyes opened momentarily and locked on her for only a second. His lips attempted to move but could not. She knew he assumed himself to be dreaming and if only he knew she was indeed standing there alive and well, surely he would have had mixed emotions.

“I love you, Keliegh,” Romia said before touching his hand, making a connection, perhaps for the last time. “With more than all my heart.”

At that moment, Keliegh nodded ever so slightly.

Had he heard her?

Romia knew it was time to go, but pulling away was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. Keliegh had been her first partner—in more ways than one.

She had no idea what lay ahead of her with this new group of people. They were the undead. That's what she'd come to call them as she had slowly begun to understand how they moved around in society, taking over lives of those who once lived. She didn't know yet if she trusted Olga and Jerry. They were following, but did they know where and why they were being led? What had he promised them?

Maybe they, too, were being blackmailed or coerced against their will. She'd need to find out more about her partners. There was nothing worse than trusting one's life to one who didn't care about his or her own.

None of it really mattered though. Romia was for right. Maybe she would rub off on them. Maybe she would make them question their allegiance to Maxwell…
maybe not.

The transmitter in her watch beeped once. It was her signal to leave.

Royale had agreed to time her visit. “Since you have no brains where this man is concerned,” he had barked, sounding jealous about her plans to visit Keliegh. He made no bones about his feelings where she and her feelings for Keliegh were concerned.

Stepping from the ICU unit as discreetly as she went in, she made her way to the stairs. It always amazed her how unseen she could be while standing in the open. Dashing to the stairway, she used the railing to cover the several flights down within seconds. Reaching the fourth floor she disrobed, tossing the doctor's white jacket, surgical gloves, shoes, and paper booties, and the blonde wig in the trash. She then pulled off the slacks, and unrolled the skirt that she wore around her waist to bulk up her frame, and slipped into the flip-flops she had in tucked in the rolls of the skirt. She smoothed down the skirt before pulling up her natural hair into a bun and donning eye glasses and a fake beauty mark under her eye. She exited then through the bowels of the hospital.

Outside, Royale was waiting, right on time. He was dressed much like a college student today. Royale was never late when it came to meeting her, or connecting with her. It was as if she could read his mind and he hers. They seemed to move as one in thought. Even when he spoke in French she understood what he said. It was a strange sensation, true.

But nothing that compared to what she felt for Keliegh Jack.

Romia quickly climbed on the back of the motorcycle with Royale. They looked like two young people out for the day.

“Got him outta ya system?” he said over his shoulder.

“Never,” Romia said, pulling the plain white helmet over her head, as he pulled off quickly.

It had been a year since Keliegh had found himself falling into and reopening the case of the mysterious group that called themselves the Phoenix team. Some around the precinct had implied they were a government agency, others implied they were terrorists. Whatever the case, they, in the end, had touched his life in ways he often did not want to talk about.

Tommy, too, was reluctant to review the past year. She'd healed from her injuries and had gone on with life with a fresh new vitality that spoke of a person who had grown from a traumatic or life-changing experience. She'd grown as a woman, allowing love to come in for Jim Beem—or—least a healthy amount of lust.

Maybe Keleigh had grown also or maybe not at all, for still he dreamed of the day in the hospital when he saw her beauty for the last time.

Was he dreaming?

“Of course I was,” he mumbled aloud.

Nonetheless, perhaps it was best that everyone involved put this all behind them, as it was too difficult to really believe. The covert spy operation whose actual existence could not be proven to have existed. Spies counter spies, double agents, and ignominious acts of betrayal, murder, and borderline treason left Keliegh confused in his loyalties where the group was concerned. Were they good, or evil? Friend or foe? Was Romia real?

His mind went to the day she went up in flames. That was the hardest memory of all. The body recovered was confirmed to be her. Whatever pyro trick she thought she was playing didn't work.

“This poor girl didn't stand a chance of surviving this prank. I'll say it again, don't play with matches,” Sam, in forensics, said. Normally those kinds of comments would have brought a joke or two, albeit in bad taste. But not that day. Tommy could barely hold it together long enough to get out of the room before giving way to tears. Thinking of her partner and how much losing Romia hurt, she couldn't help it.

Upon initial research, it was proven that Maxwell Huntington, the head of the IA, had been dead for many years. That information alone was enough to send Keliegh's mind into a tailspin back when he first heard it. However, it was the confirmation that, upon closer investigation, Romia Smith, as he knew her, never existed that had taken him over to the dark side, in his thoughts. The rest of the characters, as they played out this act, were inconsequential as far as he was concerned. They were just secondary actors in this wild fantasy performance.

How had Romia slipped into a life under the wire, and existed for thirty years as an upright and law-abiding woman? Was her life just a façade? Sometimes as he drove past her apartmetnt he would ask himself this question when tempted to stop and knock on the door.

What kind of mystic was she? Who was she really? What had she wanted? What had been her purpose and mission? Did she even know or was she an unwitting participant?

Keliegh would never be sure about Romia and her true loyalties. All he knew was that she wasn't who he thought she was, and that the woman she was had gone.

And maybe that was a good thing. He shook his head at that thought. No, that would never be a good thing. He tugged at his shirt in the area of his heart. No, losing Romia, or whoever she was, would never be a good thing.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Keliegh thought about all of it. Running it through his mind like a bad movie. The thoughts, each one, were tiring and laborious to get through. Stripping down to his shorts and climbing into bed, Keliegh gave into his mental and physical exhaustion. He'd healed completely from the physical injuries he'd incurred during the explosion and had been back to work for nearly a month.

Members of precinct overtly avoided the discussion of the incident surrounding Romia Smith. Even on Friday nights, hanging out at a new place in the Palemoes, ones who remembered Mike just let it go into the past. Truly it was a thing of the past. Even Lawrence and Jim never talked about it, although he was certain Jim had not let it go. Jim wasn't one to leave something unfinished. With Jim and Lawrence's beyond fair share of unusual cases on the books, Keliegh only hoped Jim would not get himself in trouble one day stepping too close to the mystery of the Phoenix.

Turning out the light, Keliegh lay on his back, noticing the full moon shining through his window as he finally gave into dozing.

Suddenly snapping awake, he felt the presence of someone in his room. Reaching for his gun he noticed the sensation passed as instantly as it came. “Shit,” he gasped, sitting up in the bed. “I'm going nuts,” he finally admitted.

Just then, as he reached for the small lamp, he felt a slender hand on his, stopping him from turning on the light. Grabbing hold of his interloper's wrist, he was blocked from any defense by the flat of a hand to his forehead, which knocked him back onto his pillow. Before he could rise up to fight he felt full lips covering his mouth. The kiss was warm, then hot, firm and then soft, before changing to one more desperate and hungry.

He was confused, yet highly affected as his tongue played in a frighteningly familiar volley. Reaching for the visitor's head, he felt the long hair which fell freely, stroking his face. Pulling from the kiss, he tried to adjust his eyes, but was given no time as the woman mounted him, sliding down on his manhood which stood erect and ready, exposed through the front of his undershorts. He was ready to penetrate her, which she allowed, seething in instant pleasure, squirming and riding him as if he were her possession. Keliegh groaned in pleasure, allowing the violation. He bit her neck and her breasts as the two of them groped and wrestled in a lover's battle for sweet conquest.

Panting and gasping, the woman climaxed, yet did not tire or show a break in her hunger for him. Pulling his shoulder, she rolled over, pulling him on her where he then took the advantage position, sliding into the beauty whose face was still not well defined. Her entire body was black as the dark room around them. She was no more than a…
shadow
…against his bed sheets.

Maybe this was a dream; he would only imagine it to be, as nothing real could be this fantastic, this genuinely wonderful.

“Who are you?” he asked, rising up into a push-up position while going deep into her pleasure. “Who…” Again his inquiry was interrupted by her eager lips, mouth, and tongue as she pulled him down to her. She grabbed at his ears, urging his stroke to quicken by arching upward.

Her thighs were taunt, her arms muscular, her scent familiar.

Within moments he exploded inside her and together their breathing bated and undulated, until eventually he slid from her tightness and fell over to the side of her.

In the darkened room, his mouth opened as he voiced the impossible question. “Romia?” he asked her.

The woman was still for the first time since he became aware of her presence. Suddenly rising up, she hovered over him. It may have been his imagination, but her eyes were clearly seen for the first time tonight. That is before, with a short, quick movement of her hand to the side of his head, she rendered him unconscious.

“Sleep well, my love,” she said. “I shall visit you again one day,” she promised.

 

“So are you happy now?” Royale asked, surprising her with his presence.

Again he'd followed her, found her, seemingly knowing her next move. She'd parked over five blocks away and in the darkness of the night she'd run back to her motorcycle that waited for her. Reaching the bike, she stopped abruptly at the sight of Royale leaning against the building dressed in his normal black attire. Only tonight he wore no mask. He looked like a normal young man just out for an evening ride. She smiled broadly, unable to hold on to her formally tight expression. She smiled a lot these days and with good reason. The trip to the convent had revealed to them both many secrets that changed their lives in a good way.

“Very,” she answered, pulling on the skull cap she had in her pocket and then sliding her helmet onto her head. She mounted her motorcycle.

Royale mounted his, parked next to hers, as well. Before sliding his helmet over his woolly locks, he grinned without looking at her directly.

Together they drove off toward the direction of the rising sun.