Center of the Universe (Twelfth Keeper) Page 8

  It was intense and passionate and beautiful. And she was beginning to understand why it scared him.

  Nine

  Phoenix lay next to Kennedy on her twin-sized bed, the side of her body pressed against his. Ocean breezes swept into her bedroom through the window, gently stirring the curtains, the sheets, and their hair. The hypnotic peacefulness of it all was lulling him to sleep, and he fought to stay awake. He’d like to know how people in beach towns got any work done when they could do this all day. He had never felt so relaxed.

  They stayed like that for a long time, staring into each other’s eyes without speaking. Every shade of blue existed within the depths of Kennedy’s eyes. Looking into them, he saw everything that was important to him, and it scared him to think one person could mean so much.

  Neither one of them hurried to remove themselves from her bed. Phoenix hoped to God her family didn’t come back anytime soon, seeing as how the current circumstances looked incriminating…

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  Because he might as well take advantage of the situation.

  Her whole body tensed up. The steady rise and fall of her chest stilled. She hesitated for a long moment, pressing her lips together before saying, “Okay.”

  He traced one of his fingers over the bow of her mouth. All he could think about was how his lips hadn’t been the last she’d tasted, hadn’t been the last to leave her breathless, hadn’t been the last to set her on fire. He needed to rectify that.

  The need was so powerful, so primal that deep down he knew this had nothing to do with a kiss. This was about erasing all lingering memories of him.

  He moved closer, hovering an inch above her mouth. Closing his eyes, he forced the images of her kissing that slobbering douchebag out of his head. Not that her boy-next-door was a douchebag. He was probably a decent bloke, especially since he’d managed to earn Kennedy’s friendship. But it made Phoenix feel better to think of him as a douchebag. He supposed it was easier that way. It made the whole thing less significant.

  Jealousy wasn’t something he was familiar with. So far he wasn’t a fan. He didn’t know if his was a normal reaction, or if he’d lost his mind, and in this case, he had no intentions of telling her what it was doing to him.

  But he could kiss her.

  He could kiss the hell out of her.

  He could prove whatever was between them was bigger than some boy-next-door cliché.

  Lowering his mouth to hers, that was exactly what he did. Everything he felt, he put into that kiss—the love, the pain, the desire, the jealousy, the anger—every raw emotion inside him, he dug out. For her.

  He planned to make her forget her own name, wanted to make her see stars. If exploding perfection existed in a kiss, that’s what he aimed to create.

  Funny thing was…he lost hold of himself, and he wasn’t sure how it happened. It was like she absorbed each emotion, drinking it in, bearing it with him, kissing his wounds and sparking his desire. She welcomed him with passion, as if she’d waited for her whole life for this moment.

  Everything going on outside of the room faded away. She wasn’t Kennedy, and he wasn’t Phoenix anymore. There were no boys-next-door. There were no other people in the world. They didn’t have a planet to protect or humanity—only each other.

  ~ ~

  The sound of a rickety fan and muted voices woke him up. Phoenix blinked, trying to remember where he was. The surroundings were different—the air was warmer and the sheets smelled flowery…like a girl. He sat up, looking around, noticing the stack of print books on the nightstand.

  Kennedy’s house…and her bed.

  Those voices could only mean one thing. Her family was home. He groaned, rubbing his temples. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep even though Kennedy told him to. “You look exhausted,” she whispered, smoothing his brow. He hadn’t planned on staying. But he liked being there, holding her, and enjoyed the feeling too much to move. Before he knew it, he was out.

  That’s what he got for being such a dumbass. He hadn’t slept in two days, not since before he saw that wave…and after that he couldn’t. Every waking thought was spent figuring out the fastest way to get here.

  “You’re way too lenient these days, Mom.”

  Phoenix stood and quietly opened the bedroom door. Sizzling pops and the aroma of someone cooking came from down the hall.

  “For Pete’s sake, Rea, she’s seventeen. I’m giving her a break because it’s nice to see some normalcy in her life.”

  “Ha!” the first voice scoffed—the older daughter, probably. “Like having Phoenix Jorgensen in your bed is a normal everyday thing.”

  Phoenix’s steps slowed. By the sound of that conversation, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go in there. And even if he did, they would wonder how much he’d heard.

  Where were the creaky floorboards when you needed them?

  “Crushes, infatuations—those things are normal and healthy. Honestly, I’m happy Kenn gets to experience a little of that. Imagine what it’s like to live up there all alone. This Phoenix fellow is close to her age. He’s someone she can relate to.”

  Reagan chuckled. “Yeah okay, Mom. If you think they’re just friends, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”

  A few seconds of silence passed while someone turned on a machine—a mixer or blender—and then the mom said, “Why don’t you be helpful, Reagan, and check on the chicken.”

  Before they could say anything else, Phoenix used that at his cue to enter kitchen. Mrs. Mitchell saw him approach and powered off the mixer. Reagan set her spatula down.

  “Hello.” His voice was still low from sleeping. “Sorry to drop in unannounced. I didn’t mean to stay.”

  Mrs. Mitchell leaned against the counter. She studied him with large brown eyes, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Long, uncomfortable seconds passes without her saying anything, just staring.

  Not at all awkward.

  Finally, she swallowed, collected herself, then said, “I hope you don’t intend to make a habit out of sleeping in my daughter’s bed.”

  Phoenix flinched. Admittedly, being found in Kennedy’s bed wasn’t the greatest move on his part. He should have never allowed it to happen. “I apologize, Mrs. Mitchell. I flew straight from Russia and didn’t realize how jet-lagged I was—not that it’s an excuse. It won’t happen again. I plan to get a hotel tonight.”

  She stared at him a moment longer, dissecting him with her eyes, before saying, “You’re welcome to stay here—on the couch, of course.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, surprised by the offer, and not entirely sure how to respond. And then he surprised himself by saying, “Okay. That’d be nice.”

  “Are you hungry? I’m making chicken alfredo for dinner.”

  “I’m always hungry.” He grinned sheepishly. That was an understatement, because the truth was that he was always starving, and the smell of Ashley Mitchell’s food already had set his stomach to growling.

  “Good.” She smiled back at him. “I’ve recently cut back my hours at work, and now that I have more time on my hands, I’ve found I enjoy cooking.”

  “Do you need help with anything?” He thought it was a good question to ask, but he didn’t spend much time eating home cooked meals, or visiting people for that matter, so he wasn’t sure what was considered polite.

  “We’re good, but thanks.” Mrs. Mitchell set her towel on the counter and turned the mixer back on. “Kennedy is out back,” she said over her shoulder. “We’ll be done in a bit.”

  Phoenix fled through the back door, sort of relieved to get out of there. The backyard was small, only a patch of green, consisting of two oak trees, a palm and an empty hammock. Kennedy was in the middle practicing…Karate?

  If that’s what it was.

  She made it look like a toddler playing ninja. He made a tsk, tsk noise. “Master Mushi would be ashamed.”

  Kennedy turned around, her eyes slit. “Keep the snarky black-belt r
emarks to yourself. This doesn’t come easy to everyone.”

  Phoenix shook his head, letting out a breath she wouldn’t hear. He’d been teasing, but this was obviously a sensitive subject. Bloody hell.

  He eyed her up and down. “You know I can help you, if you want.”

  She stood straighter, chewing on her lower lip. After a long moment of debating, she held up her hands as if to say what the hell.

  “What stance were you just in?”

  “Zenkutzu, I think.”

  “No, you weren’t.” He kept his voice even, showing her he was only making an observation. “You have to keep both of your feet straight, like this.” He demonstrated the stance. When she tried to mimic him, he tapped her ankles to move them into the correct position. “Yep, just like that.”

  She lowered her eyes, looking over her form. A slow smile crept across her face when she saw she’d gotten it right. “I also have trouble with the kicks.”

  “Okay. We’ll work on those.”

  For the next few minutes, he helped her learn how to do a proper kick. He figured she wasn’t as bad as she thought because it wasn’t long before she got the hang of it. She needed time and repetitions to perfect it, and maybe a hearty dose of self-confidence, but she would get it eventually.

  Most of the keepers had years to practice martial arts and a number of other types of combat. They barely had to think about it anymore, the moves had become so practiced. Watching them train could make it seem hopeless for a beginner. He had a feeling that’s what was bringing her down.

  “See, you got it.” He nudged her with his elbow, pushing her off balance mid-kick.

  He grinned when she swatted at him. Or tried to. He blocked her hands with ease. “Calm down, grasshopper.”

  Kennedy gave up, rolled her eyes and headed to the hammock, falling into it. “So when are you planning to tell me what happened in Russia?”

  He let out a sigh, wishing he didn’t have to. It had been hard enough telling Mason, and humiliating besides. He raked his hands through his hair, wondering where to begin. “We lost Dominika.” That was probably the most pivotal event in the stack of them.

  Kennedy sat up in the hammock, staring at him with wide eyes. “You lost Nika?”

  He continued to tell her the whole story, from start to finish, and didn’t leave out a single piece. By the time he was done, she was as confused as he was about the whole thing.

  “So you’re saying she knew someone on the list of names you found?” Kennedy asked, trying to help him make sense of it.

  He nodded. “That’s what she said. Do you think that has anything to do with why she ran off?”

  Kennedy shrugged. “I mean—it’s definitely weird. You said she seemed so committed in the beginning, so it doesn’t make sense that she would just disappear unless something provoked her. Maybe it was the name she saw.”

  Phoenix had considered that, too. Professor Mason was currently in the middle of a detailed investigation for every name on that list.

  “We’re not sure how any of the names relate,” he told Kennedy. “But we know that one of them lives in Orlando—a golfer’s wife. I plan to interview her while I’m here in Florida.”

  “When?” she asked, leaning forward.

  “I don’t know,” He leaned against one of the trees. “Tomorrow, maybe. Your mom invited me to stay the night.”

  Sunlight streamed through the trees, reflecting the crimson-red highlights in Kennedy’s hair. She was so beautiful, and she didn’t notice it. He liked that about her.

  She nodded, thinking for a moment. “Okay. I’m coming.”

  Her tone dared him to argue with her, but he didn’t bother. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be allowed to come. This part of the world was her home, just as Russia was Nika’s. “I’ll talk to Mason.”

  She sat back into the hammock, looking relieved to hear him say that. “Thank you.” Her words were whispered, but they held a depth of gratitude.

  He doubted the Nika argument would hold much ground with Professor Mason now that she’d disappeared. But he was taking Kennedy whether he liked it or not. One more day was all he had left before going back to the monotony of Olympus. He wanted to spend every last second of it with Kennedy.

  Ten

  Between her mom and sister and their probing questions, Kennedy assumed dinner would be unbearable. But surprisingly, it wasn’t so bad. Phoenix had charmed them both over in no time. Mostly he talked about where he grew up in Norway, his horde of brothers, and a grandmother in London he referred to as the “cheerful dictator.”

  Thankfully, no one asked the So how’d you get to be friends with Kennedy? question. She doubted Ashley would appreciate the fact that Phoenix saved her from nearly drowning to death—all because DOE officials thought it was in her best interest to hold her under water. She still couldn’t get over that one. How did drowning a person help them to get over their fear of the water? That was like pushing someone with a fear of heights off the tallest building. The rationale was beyond her comprehension.

  Later, when she told Ashley she would be going to Orlando the next day, she got an earsplitting, “But you just got here!”

  “It’s only for the day, Mom. Don’t freak out.”

  “I haven’t spoken to Mason yet.” Phoenix eyed Kennedy subtly, letting her know nothing had been confirmed yet.

  In her mind, it was already confirmed. Whether Mason agreed to authorize her or not, she was going, and there wasn’t one thing he could say about it. She was tired of sitting around like some useless outdated gadget, instead of contributing like a keeper should be doing.

  Ashley said, “If it’s only for the day, I suppose I’m okay with it. I work tomorrow anyway.”

  After dinner, Phoenix contacted Mason. Kennedy was in the middle of making up his bed on the sofa when she heard him arguing out on the front porch. “Grant the approval, Professor. It’s an interview with a housewife. We can handle it.”

  Kennedy stepped outside, quietly shutting the door behind her. Opening and shutting doors was something she was still getting used to since leaving Olympus. She’d grown so accustomed to them doing it automatically that she barely noticed they were there most of the time. Ah, the things people took for granted…

  “It’s not that simple, Nix.”

  Professor Mason’s tanned face and his pointy white beard lit up the space in front of Phoenix. There was a stubborn crease to his brow that hinted at his mood.

  “Hello, Kennedy,” Mason said, seeing her approach. “How’s Florida this time of year?”

  “It’s sunny, Professor. How have you been?”

  “Not great, kiddo. I’m preparing for a Sae-yer battle. On top of that, I’m under fire for losing Dominika.”

  “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior,” Kennedy said with a teasing wink. “No disappearing acts, I swear.” Then more seriously, she added, “I only want to help.”

  Professor Mason let out a long, grumbling sigh. He looked away from the camera lens, debating. “Fine. I suppose I’ll approve it.”

  Phoenix and Kennedy exchanged surprised glances. They both expected more of an argument, but Mason was proving to be unexpectedly compliant.

  “When the two of you talk to Mrs. Little, find out everything you can. Ask her about the names on that list, see if she recognizes any of them.”

  “What about the plate number I gave you?” Phoenix asked. “Did you find out who owns the bike?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s a company vehicle, owned by Ryder Industries.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means a dead end, Nix. We contacted their distribution department, but they’ve lost record of who the bike was allocated to.”

  Phoenix balled his hands into fists. “A little too convenient, if you ask me.”

  Professor Mason shrugged. “Sometimes that’s the way it goes. Try your luck with Mrs. Little. At this point, getting to the bottom of Project 27 isn’t going to happe
n unless she gives you a lead.”

  Phoenix nodded. “We’ll try our best.” He signed off, and Professor Mason’s face disappeared.

  Lingering disappointment lined Phoenix’s expression. Kennedy could see he was taking this much harder than she originally thought. “You could still find him.” She hoped some her optimism would rub off on him.

  “I’m not so sure about that.” He walked to the porch railing and looked up at the stars. “I might’ve screwed up this assignment.”

  So much for being optimistic.

  Kennedy swung her legs, and hopped up onto the railing, facing Phoenix. “Let’s say you did. Hypothetically.”

  He met her gaze, arching a brow. “Okay…”

  “So it’s screwed. Big deal.” She shrugged. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about than some mysterious file Plaffle left behind in his computer. Things like evil aliens coming to destroy the planet, remember?”

  “You shouldn’t joke about that.”

  She snorted. “Trust me—I only joke to keep from crying.”

  For one short moment, he cracked a smile, but it disappeared just as quickly. “I don’t know, Kennedy. There’s something bigger behind this project, I can feel it.”

  “Maybe what you’re feeling is antsy—did you ever think of that? Like you need to be doing something to keep from going crazy? Waiting for the Sae-yers to get here can’t be easy on any of us. I think we’re all sort of waiting around for DOE to give us the bad news.”

  “Is that what you’ve been going through?”

  Kennedy stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “To tell you the truth, I’m scared to death. Every day I’m here, I’m wondering if these are the last moments I’ll spend with my family. And they don’t have a clue…sometimes I wish I could tell them. Other times, I’m grateful they don’t know.”