Читать книгу Swerve - Michelle McGriff - Страница 11

Almost instantly, the light beams shone around the room and Romia could hear voices floating up from down below. “If she’s on foot we’ll never find her,” someone said. The sounds of sirens poured into the alley; there were at least four squad cars.

“I know, have you ever clocked her? She’s fast. I trained with her once and she was amazing. She—”

“Quit talking about her like she’s a superwoman,” another office said.

“I’m just sayin’…we’re not going to find her.”

Romia moved close in to the wall as the light flew across the room. “This is crazy,” someone admitted. “Did she really kill somebody?”

“Anybody see anything?”

“Who was the victim?”

“I hear it was another cop.” The voices continued until finally the sounds grew muffled and distant.

“Romia killed a cop?” The voices sounded like a crowd growing as the officers below scoured the alleyway. Without the ladder being lowered, they would be hard-pressed to assume she was in one of the buildings. Even if they reasoned on it, it would take a psychic to figure out she was in this particular building—unless she made a sound, which she couldn’t do now if she tried.

Finally, and suddenly, they were gone.

Stiff with mortification and shock, Romia didn’t move for what felt like hours. Standing in the darkness still wearing her helmet, she felt sick, nausea forming deep in the pit of her belly until finally, as if awakening from a half sleep, she slowly removed the helmet and set it quietly on the floor—afraid to make a peep. I’ll be okay here for the night, I guess, she thought, her eyes adjusting to the dark room lightened only by the reflection off the liquor store across street. Its neon sign showed bright down the alleyway as the night began to come alive. It was always that way in the Palemos at night.

Normally, Romia would walk the streets unbothered by the elements. She was fearless—especially when working a beat. She was a plainclothes cop, although most people knew her, so working undercover was generally a waste of time. Besides, a reputation like hers traveled fast. She was tough, but trustworthy. She had a lot of friends on the street. Tonight, she was counting on that, because tomorrow she needed to get some answers and get them quick before her brothers in the law came after her again.

Romia thought about Keliegh and what he must have gone through having interfered the way he had, allowing her to escape arrest. She needed to get a hold of him, but surely he was either detained or being watched. Maybe Tamika. Exhausted, Romia couldn’t even finish the thought. She sat on the dirty floor, burying her face in her hands. Closing her eyes, mentally spent, she leaned her head back against the wall until soon she dozed off, jerking fitfully every few moments.

Suddenly, she jerked fully awake. The presence of the shadowy figure brought her to full alert…That, plus the gun pressing against her forehead. “I can’t believe you’re asleep,” the shadow said, chuckling wickedly with a hint of disappointment in his tone. “I’ve been holding this here for at least a minute. I could have killed you ten times.”

“Once would be plenty,” Romia answered, bringing her leg up between the shadows legs with lightening speed, but he was faster, blocking her. She slapped the gun away only to catch a blow to the head from the opposite hand. Unfazed, she knew the hit had been pulled back. It was as if the shadow was sparring with her and had no plans to kill her. With the agility and speed of a puma, she jumped to a crouching position, blocking quick-coming blows until she maneuvered herself out of the corner she was in. “What do you want? Who are you?”

“As if I would answer you. What is the honor in that? The challenge?” the shadow spoke. His words came without any show of strain or effort while he swung on her effortlessly, maintaining remarkable speed.

Finally, he stepped back from her and stood in the darkness. Dressed completely in black and with his face covered except for his eyes, his features were indistinguishable. But she knew the shadow as male; it was obvious by his build and heavy masculine voice—although he had masked it, whispering huskily when he spoke. As if both sensing the same feelings, she reached for her helmet, but not before he grabbed it. “Aw, the phoenix,” he said, smacking his lips sarcastically. “Elusive little bird…Rises from the ashes, they say. Tsk tsk. As if only you deserved to wear it.”

Romia said nothing. She was thinking too hard, trying to get ahead of this shadow, trying to figure out what was happening to her. “I do deserve it,” she finally blurted, sounding like a little girl instead of the tough cookie everyone knew her to be.

“I’ll determine that, but as for now, you’re just a criminal—a murderer.”

“I didn’t kill that man.”

The shadow laughed. “I know that. You were playing with me behind the bar when it happened. But then again, I’m a terrible alibi, don’t you think?”

He was right, he was no better than the mysterious one-armed man from the movies. No one would believe her if she told them of the encounter with the shadow. She’d have to prove her innocence by finding the killer. It was the only way.

“Who killed him?”

“Who do you think?”

“I don’t know. I…” Romia thought about the scene. “The woman!” Romia gasped. The man chuckled. “Who was she? You know, don’t you?”

“Too easy, but a good start.” The shadow started for the window, but Romia charged at him to get her helmet back. A back kick sent her tumbling. This time he did not hold back. The blow stunned her and she hesitated before getting up, assessing her ribs. “You’ll get this back when you deserve it,” he said, disappearing out the window, taking her helmet with him.

Romia struggled to her feet and ran to the window, only to see an empty alley below. How did he know I was here? she asked herself, feeling the chill of violation. Again she looked around the room. She needed to sleep. It was late, but she knew time was of the essence. Tomorrow would be too late. The trail would be cold. She had to get some answers…now!

She had to get out of her boots and get into some travel gear. She had no gun, no jacket, no vehicle, and now…no lucky charm. All this dawned on her as she slinked through the dark streets, darting in and out of alleyways, avoiding streets where the night people were foraging for food and finding places to sleep warmly.

Surviving.

She felt vulnerable without her bike, jacket, and helmet. Those belongings that bore the symbol that represented her strength were missing now. The police had taken her bike; it was gone when she came down from the building to see if, just in case, they had left it. No such luck. Looking around, she assumed they had her jacket, too.

Framed and hanging on the wall in her apartment, the tapestry was all she had left and she was determined to get it before the police got to her place. Like a cat in the night she moved through the crowded streets undetected without her normal attire.