Cease Fire

by Janie Crouch

  Roman’s hand rubbed circles at the small of Keira’s back. “Mother, I’d like for you to meet Keira Spencer. Keira, this is my mother, Maureen Weber Donovan.”

  Maureen turned to Keira and for just a moment disdain burned in her eyes, before she quickly masked it.

  “So glad you could join us so we could get to talk to you today,” Maureen said. “Roman doesn’t bring many of his girls around to meet us.”

  The snub that Keira was just one of many, and therefore unimportant, was slight and said so gently it was almost unrecognizable.

  Definitely recognizable was that this family obviously had money. It surrounded everything about Maureen, from how she dressed, to her walk, to her scent. It was all expensive and expertly finished.

  They walked over to the table where the rest of Roman’s family sat, and introductions were made. Maureen introduced her husband, Maxwell Donovan, who was not Roman’s father but the man Maureen had married after Roman’s father had died fifteen years ago.

  Maxwell Donovan was much more interested in the drink in his hand and the football game he had on his smart phone than he was in anything happening at the table.

  Roman’s sister and her fiancé had also joined them. They seemed nice enough and by the time everyone had ordered lunch, Keira felt like maybe she had imagined the entire thing with Maureen when they’d first met.

  The meal was fine, tasty. Everyone made light, mostly meaningless conversation. Even Maxwell joined in at times, although no one seemed offended when he would jump out of a conversation and back into his game when he felt it necessary. Roman’s smile had Keira relaxing and thinking that she’d allowed her paranoia to cloud her judgment earlier.

  Which was why she was so unprepared for the attack when it occurred.

  Keira couldn’t fault Maureen in her timing: she waited for dessert. If she had done it any earlier in the meal it would’ve just made everything awkward. Instead, she went for the kill in between bites of crème brûlée.

  “So you two met at the wedding last week?” Maureen’s smile didn’t falter at the question.

  Roman smiled over at Keira before answering. “Yes, although we had seen each other before the wedding and knew each other through mutual friends. But last week was the first time we truly connected.”

  Keira appreciated that he was trying to make their relationship sound a little more respectable than how they’d actually got started. Not that she was ashamed of it, but telling his mother the hot details seemed unnecessary.

  But Maureen Donovan had plans of her own.

  “So I noticed you were one of the bridesmaids. How do you know Andrea?”

  “She and I worked together a few years ago.”

  Maureen looked over at Keira. “Was that before, during or after you were a stripper?”

  The words were stated clearly, distinctly enough to make sure not only everyone at their table could hear them, but those guests sitting at the tables surrounding them, as well.

  Keira realized she should’ve expected it. She knew people like this. Knew what they were capable of. And yet she’d let herself be drawn in here thinking that being on Roman’s arm could protect her.

  She wasn’t stupid. She didn’t know why she had made such a stupid mistake.

  Maureen calmly took the napkin out of her lap and folded it, placing it on the table beside her plate as chaos ensued around her. At the word stripper, even Maxwell had turned off his beloved football game. Angela and her fiancé had both gasped and gone wide-eyed, looking back and forth between Roman and Keira.

  Roman narrowed his eyes and looked at Maureen. “What are you talking about, Mother? Andrea Gordon Han is an agent at Omega Sector.”

  Maureen glanced at her son. “But she wasn’t always an agent at your beloved law enforcement agency—” her eyes turned back to Keira “—was she?”

  Keira refused to allow herself to be browbeaten by this woman. “I can’t speak to Andrea’s past, but yes, I used to be a stripper. It was quite lucrative, actually.”

  Keira could feel Roman studying her, but she didn’t even look at him. She knew where her enemy was and it was right across the table.

  And Maureen wasn’t done. “And now you’re a hairdresser? Is that correct, dear?”

  “Yes, it is.” Keira took her napkin and folded it next to her dessert plate just as Maureen had.

  “I would imagine that’s not quite as lucrative as taking your clothes off—and whatever else you did—for money.” Maureen’s smile never faltered.

  “Mother, that’s enough.” Roman’s voice held a cold anger, but Keira honestly wasn’t sure if it was directed toward his mother or toward her.

  Maureen strategically knew when not to push. “Of course, dear. I was just pointing out that a new business can be such a drain on the pocketbook. I wasn’t sure if Keira maybe had discussed needing assistance from you.”

  In other words, that Keira was using Roman for his money. Ironically, if she had known Roman and his family had such wealth she would’ve never gotten involved with him in the first place. She’d thought she’d just been getting involved with a law enforcement agent.

  “I can assure you the salon is doing just fine and in no need of financial assistance from your family.” Keira stood. “As a matter fact, I would like to thank you for the lovely lunch, but now I should probably be getting back to the salon.”

  Maureen smiled. “Of course, dear, you should get back to where you belong. A new business owner always wants to be with her business.”

  A few minutes later, after tense goodbyes, Roman had the car pulled around by the valet and they both slipped inside, the silence between them thick and heavy. Neither of them knew quite what to say. No matter how much Keira wanted it to be different, Maureen’s words had hit them both hard.

  The drive back from the country club was more of the same. Except for agreeing to go back to the salon rather than his place, there didn’t seem to be much to say.

  Roman finally spoke as they pulled up. “My mother—”

  Keira cut him off. “Your mother is the matriarch of a family with wealth and power. She wants to protect you. And your family name.”

  Keira was intimately familiar with that sort of family protection. It had nearly cost her her life six years ago.

  “But still, what she said wasn’t...” he seemed to struggle to find the correct word “...polite.”

  Polite. No, talking about someone’s tawdry prior profession at a country club wouldn’t seem polite to him.

  Keira shook her head. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. I was a stripper, Roman. I did take off my clothes for money. I don’t apologize for it or try to hide it. And I am a hairdresser now.”

  “I know that.”

  They sat there in silence for long minutes, neither of them knowing what to say.

  “Look.” Keira finally broke the quiet. “We probably jumped into this relationship thing too quickly. Let hormones or lust or whatever get the best of us. Maybe we should just say we had a great week, super fantastic sex, and leave it at that.”

  Because Keira couldn’t get involved with a man from a powerful, well-connected family again. She just didn’t have it in her.

  Roman looked relieved. “Yeah. Maybe so. Just let it breathe for a while.”

  But they both knew “letting it breathe” meant letting it go.

  Roman opened the car door for her and hugged her before he left. They both mentioned something about getting together sometime in the future. They both didn’t mean it. Roman gave her a small smile and wave before driving away.

  And right there in the late afternoon, the clock struck midnight and everything around her turned to pumpkins.

  Chapter Five

  Two Months Later

  “Who’s up for a beer once we get off?” Liam Goetz asked as the SWAT
team was heading back late in the afternoon from a full-day wilderness training course.

  The Omega Sector SWAT team wasn’t often called in to do wilderness work, but it did happen. Therefore, training happened.

  But this just seemed to be another long day in a series of long days for Roman.

  “Don’t ask Roman, for God’s sake,” Lillian said, rolling her eyes. “He’s cranky. Again. This has something to do with a woman, I’m telling you.”

  “I’m not cranky,” Roman protested, even though he knew it was just going to feed their argument. “And it has nothing to do with a woman. It’s just been a long-ass day.”

  But his team was right; Roman was irritable. He’d been cranky for two months now.

  And he knew exactly why he was grumpy, although he’d be damned if he’d admit it to anyone.

  “Yeah, you tell him ’em, Roman.” Liam nodded supportively. “My wife was pregnant with twins, so I know what cranky looks like. And you’re only a little bit like that.”

  The rest of the team chuckled, even Derek, their leader, so Roman knew he’d been pretty bad. John Cornell and Saul Poniard, two guys not part of the normal SWAT team, were with them—Poniard probably still trying to get bonus points like he had at the wedding—looking both confused and amused at the banter. Cornell studied them all like they were science projects. The guy gave Roman the creeps.

  “I’d be irritable, too, if I had almost been blown up,” Ashton Fitzgerald, the team’s sharpshooter, said. “Oh, wait, I was almost blown up.”

  Lillian rolled her eyes again. “You found the love of your life in that situation, Fitzy. Weber didn’t. So you’re not supposed to be cranky.”

  Fitzgerald held out his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just glad you guys aren’t mocking me about being Summer’s handyman anymore.”

  Even Roman had to smile at that. They’d teased Ashton mercilessly over his crush on Summer Worrall and the fact that she’d thought he was her condo building’s handyman for the longest time.

  “Oh, I’m sure she still thinks you’re handy.” Liam wagged his eyebrows. “Just for more than fixing her sink now.”

  “All right, boys and girls, it looks like nobody is getting a beer tonight,” Derek said, breaking in. “We just got a call. Emergency hostage drill at the simulator.”

  Nobody groaned out loud, but everybody wanted to. Not that they minded being thrown extra training at the end of a long day. They expected that, even welcomed it, to keep the team focused and prepared.

  Their apprehension lay with the training center itself. Everyone glanced in Fitzgerald’s direction, since he’d been the one almost killed in the very first training op in the simulator months ago.

  “Don’t look at me. As long as we don’t have to wear the suits, I’m all for it,” Fitzgerald said.

  Derek nodded. “No suits. No suits for the foreseeable future.”

  The mesh suits, which were supposed to have simulated a gunshot wound by giving the team member a small electric shock, had malfunctioned and shocked Fitzy’s body over and over, until the SWAT team had finally cut the power to the whole building and saved his life.

  The suits were great in theory, but in practice ended up being a bust.

  With rumors that it had been deliberate sabotage.

  “The call is one hostage and one perp. Federal office building.”

  “One bad guy, boss? Seems a little lax, doesn’t it?” Lillian asked.

  Derek shrugged. “Maybe they’re taking pity on us since we’ve already put in a fifteen-hour day, but somehow I doubt it.” The SWAT truck pulled up to the training simulator. “So let’s be ready for whatever they’re going to throw at us. Poniard, Cornell, you can come in, too, but you’ll need to stay back.”

  John Cornell nodded, but Poniard looked disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to be part of the action. The guy definitely wanted to be SWAT.

  The multimillion-dollar training simulator was designed to be different every time a team went in. The designers could pull up multiple scenarios and realistic-looking robotic bad guys, who were pretty accurate in terms of their “choices” and actions. Some of the best video game programmers and computer engineers in the world had developed the system. Once they got all the kinks worked out—for example, the suits not accidentally almost killing someone—law enforcement groups from all over the country would come here to train. Omega was very fortunate to have it in their backyard.

  The team entered the giant warehouse-type building, into a holding room. There they traded out their real weapons for simulated ones. They weighed about the same and even felt very similar, but shot light beams rather than bullets.

  The countdown was given, the door opened and the team walked into a replica of any generic urban area. This time it was a downtown situation, at night, with rain. Actual mist was simmering in the air around them. Darkness surrounded them except for what little light the streetlamps provided.

  “Cornell, Poniard, this is as far as you go. Everybody else, keep your eyes peeled,” Derek said. “One perp can’t be right.”

  Roman couldn’t agree more. The Omega SWAT team got called in for cases bigger than what local PD could handle, or if a situation occurred on federal property.

  One bad guy in one office? Omega wouldn’t be called in for that, and it didn’t do that much good to train for it, either. But they would, regardless.

  “Fitzy, Liam, head around back. I’m sure there’s some sort of fire escape on a building this old. Lil, find us a completely separate way into the office in case we need it. Roman and I will take the front. Let’s use cameras to see what we’re dealing with here, and watch your backs.”

  Everyone took off in their assigned direction. Fitzgerald and Liam were the first to check in.

  “We’ve got a visual on the suspect and the hostage. Hostage is female, according to the dress she’s wearing, tied to a chair, and has some sort of sack over her head. Suspect is pacing back and forth,” Fitzgerald reported.

  “Or pacing as much as a robot can,” Liam added.

  “Okay, pacing means agitated,” Roman commented. “Agitated means unpredictable. And like Derek said, watch for a partner.”

  Roman and Derek were at the office door, which opened to a hallway. Derek positioned the camera cord under the door; that would allow them to get a visual feed from the room. Roman guarded the hallway to make sure no one would be able to come up on them unawares.

  “Okay, confirm that,” Derek said, once the camera was in place. “Looks like we don’t have anybody else in the front room, either. I can see the suspect pace by.”

  “Derek, I found a way into the air vent and have a good view of the entire room.” Lillian’s voice came through very soft in their ears. “Believe it or not, I think this is just a one-person gig. I can take him out without killing him and we can end this right now. Still have time for the beer and more of Roman’s crankiness.”

  Roman rolled his eyes. This was too damn easy. “Maybe they’re keeping it simple this time. We’re always ready for the big baddies, but sometimes we just come up against a lone wolf.”

  “Let’s hold for five minutes and see what happens,” Derek said. “Because this is a damn waste of good beer time if this is all they’ve got for us.”

  Five minutes came and passed with nothing but the “hostage taker” continuing to pace.

  “Okay, we breach on my mark,” Derek finally said. “Lillian, you take the guy out without killing him, everybody else enters to give her any backup she needs.”

  “Roger that,” the team echoed back.

  Roman wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe ninjas falling out of the sky or a bomb under the conference room table.

  But nothing like that happened.

  Maybe, like he’d told Derek, this was an exercise in restraint, to make sure the team was ready to hand
le a situation that required less brawn and more finesse.

  But it still sucked.

  The team entered the office building at the same time Lillian dropped from the air duct. She rolled as she landed, and shot the suspect in the shoulder, causing the simulated gun he held in his hand to fall to the ground.

  Within moments the rest of the team had “cuffed” the bad guy so he could do no further harm to anyone.

  Mission over.

  “Okay,” Liam said. “That was almost as relaxing as getting a beer.”

  Fitzgerald laughed. “Honestly, I thought the floor was going to turn to acid or something.”

  “My bet was on flesh-eating zombies,” Lillian said.

  Roman went over and took the sack off the “victim’s” head. But where a realistic robot face should’ve been was some sort of television screen.

  With the picture of a woman, also wearing a dress, also tied to a chair, also with a sack over her head.

  “What the hell?” Roman said. The rest of the team rushed over.

  “So glad you could defeat one single perpetrator.”

  Curses flooded the training center as the team watched Damien Freihof come into view on the screen.

  “You have such a difficult time catching me, I thought we better see if you could catch a single bad guy in the simulator.” Freihof smiled for the camera.

  “Where is he?” Roman muttered to the team.

  “Not here, that’s for sure,” Lillian returned. “That’s a real office, not the simulator.”

  Freihof’s face took up the entire screen once again. “Before we continue, let’s make sure we have everybody at Omega on board.”

  A few seconds later, Roman felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. He grabbed it, only to see Freihof’s picture come up on that screen, too. It looked like the same thing was happening to the rest of the team on their phones.

  “I want to apologize to you,” Freihof said, looking impossibly genuine. “I’ve been toying with you, and the people who I’ve been working with haven’t always been successful in the tasks they’ve been given.”