“You caught me off guard.”
“Oh,” she says, clicking her tongue. “It’s all my fault, is it?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Already this is turning into another emotional mess that I have no capacity to handle.
“Actually, Zane, when it comes to you, I haven’t a frigging clue what is going on in that messed-up head of yours.” She digs her fingernails into her thighs as she glowers at me.
“You don’t understand a fucking thing!” I growl, incensed beyond reason. She flinches and I hate myself. “Look, I’m sorry,” I say, climbing to my feet. “But I can’t do this with you, Mel. Forget that kiss. Forget about me. This means nothing.” I turn and walk away, leaving her with those bitter parting words.
She avoids me as if I’m a cancerous growth the next day. Despite my efforts to seek her out, she continually ignores me. I’m desperate to apologize, but she won’t let me get close enough to her to even say “hi.” I don’t blame her. I was grossly unfair to her, and I can only imagine how confused and hurt she is. I want to make amends, try to put this right, but I can’t do that by myself.
The President’s deadline is looming large, and I’m no closer to reaching a decision. I’m reviewing my options again when Malcolm lands on my doorstep. Taking one look at his face, I shudder in nervous anticipation. “What’s happened?”
His shoulders heave and I think he might break down. “It’s Ari.”
Everything inside me goes still. I stare at him, unsure if I want to hear it.
“We can’t find her. She’s missing.”
PART III - CAL
CHAPTER 14
I accept the call with a huge amount of apprehension and a fairly healthy dose of skepticism. It’s been over two months since I’ve had any involvement with my arch-nemesis, Zane Anders, or the object of our mutual obsession. I’ve no idea why he’s contacting me now. He probably wants to gloat over the fact that he got the girl, relish rubbing my nose in it. A familiar surge of aggression flares inside me, and my fists clench at my sides.
When I first spotted Ariana Skyee on Novo, I thought my biggest challenge would be winning her heart.
But I was wrong.
Holding onto it was the hardest test of all.
And I failed.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I connect to the line. “What do you want?” I snap.
“Have you heard from her?” Zane asks, no pretense of formalities either.
His question throws me off guard. Why would I hear from her? I asked her to make a choice and she did. She turned her back on me without as much as a goodbye. The pain of it still cuts me to the bone. To think that I meant so little to her, that everything she told me was an empty truth. She played me for a right fool. “Why would I hear from her?”
“Stop playing games,” he hisses. “This is serious. Have you heard from her or not?”
The frantic tone in his voice stops me dead in my tracks. A fluttery feeling of dread sweeps through me, and my mouth is sandpaper dry. “I haven’t heard from her since she left for Greece.” There’s a long hesitation on the other end of the line. “What’s going on?”
“She’s missing,” Zane says, almost whispering it.
Anxiety squirms in my chest. “Since when?” My voice is strained.
“No one has seen her in two days. The doctor is missing too.”
“Perhaps they are on their way back to Saoirse HQ,” I suggest. Though Taylor is the world’s biggest flirt, he’s also a super-smart guy. If Ariana is with him, then she must be all right. There’s another telling pause on the line, and I have a real bad feeling about this. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Micha’s off the grid. We think she’s looking for Ari.”
“Why?” Then I remember something that Calista Corr said to us when we were in Florida. To be honest, I didn’t pay that much attention to it. It seemed a little far-fetched. Micha is just a big-time freak as far as I’m concerned. And I can’t imagine that she’d expend energy looking for one solitary girl who hardly poses any threat to her. But am I wide of the mark?
Zane exhales loudly down the line. “She has a personal agenda, and we have reason to believe she intends to hurt Ari.”
“And you’re not going to explain that to me, are you?” My knuckles bleach white as I fist my hands at my side.
“All that matters is she’s in danger. I’d thought she might be with you.”
Razor-sharp shards of pain puncture my chest at the suggestion that something might have happened to her. I clutch my head in my hands. It’s only then that his other statement registers in my brain. “Why would you think she’d be with me?” More telling silence on the end of the line. “When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“A few weeks ago,” he replies.
That’s odd. “How come?” Even more silence. Seriously, this guy would test the patience of a saint. And I certainly can’t claim to be saintly.
“We’re not together,” he says eventually.
Come again? What? “Since when?”
He makes a wretched sound at the back of his throat as he speaks. “You genuinely don’t know this?”
“Why would I ask if I already knew?” Sarcasm is thick in my tone.
“She has chosen to leave her past in the past,” he says, rather cryptically.
Am I her past too? Has she chosen to forgo both of us? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not the one who should be explaining this.” He sounds maddeningly calm, and I wish I could stuff my hand through the line and ram it in his face.
“Well, considering you and Malcolm have managed to lose her, I don’t expect she’ll be telling me anything anytime soon!” I roar, nerves and anger getting the better of me.
“This is a waste of time. If she contacts you, will you let me know, please.”
I grunt an acknowledgment and cut the call.
Stomping out of the communications hut, I flounce back to my tent. I’m highly strung and it’s at times like this when I’m tested to my limit. Though the doctors continue to work with me and I take my daily meds, the surge of aggression is so deeply rooted in my psyche that I struggle to maintain control at times of extreme stress. Messing with a person’s DNA does that to you, I suppose.
I’m charging through the camp like a man on a mission. A voice calls out to me but I stride forward, desperate to get within the safe confines of my pod. Collapsing spread-eagled on the bed, I bury a scream in my pillow. The door clicks open and my head jolts up.
“There you are,” Amber says. I nuzzle my pillow again. “What’s wrong?”
“I need a minute to calm down,” I admit, my voice muffled in the pillow.
She waits silently and patiently, and my stupid brain thinks what a good match she’d make for Zane. I snort but it comes out like a strangled laugh. It eases the last of my tension though and I sit up, clutching the pillow to my chest.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” she demands, cocking an eyebrow. I resist the urge to flip her off. She’s constantly nagging me, telling me to cop on and take my head out of my ass. I know I’ve been moping but come on … are girls the only ones allowed to feel heartsick? I’ve never felt so forlorn in my entire life.
That I had the girl of my dreams and made a total fucking mess of it is killing me inside.
Wincing internally as I think of those last few days together, I blow air out of my mouth. All the horrible things that were said. The mutual anger and hurt. My inability to say or do the right thing. Every damn word out of my mouth aggravated the situation. But I was hurting so much over the whole situation with Deacon and my dad and the mixed-up shit with Zane that constantly hovered over our relationship, creating dark shadows where there should have been rainbows. I shake my head and try to pull myself out of it. Amber looks at me knowingly, understanding fully that I’ve retreated into that dark place in my head.
Forcing myself to focus, I swallo
w loudly. “Ariana is missing.” I scratch my head. “No one has seen her for two days, and there’s this crazy psycho bitch out for her blood.”
“Oh no,” Amber says. Fucking understatement of the year. “What are you going to do?”
That’s the million-dollar question now, isn’t it? “I don’t know,” I admit. “I needed to control myself before I could start thinking about that part.” I push my hair back out of my eyes. It’s grown at an abnormal rate these last couple of months, and it’s almost back to the same style I wore when I first met Ariana. We’re supposed to keep our hair buzzed tight but I refuse to cut it. It’s somewhat symbolic: Like, if I return to the way I looked before, then everything will be okay. I snort and Amber pins me with a look.
“What?” I throw up my hands. “I’m thinking.” I pout and she laughs.
She’s been like a breath of fresh air these past couple of months. I don’t think I would’ve survived without her. She refuses to take any of my crap, and I know I’d be wallowing in an even murkier pit of self-loathing if she weren’t there to bust my balls.
All the while my brain is meandering, I’m thinking of solutions.
Irrepressible fear surges through me, coating my insides with acid. If anything happens to Ariana … fuck. “I’m going to find Ariana myself,” I say. Standing up, I chuck the pillow at Amber’s head.
Ducking down super-fast, she manages to avoid eating a mouthful of polyester. I smirk. Her reactions are impressive. “You’re such an ass.” I smirk even wider. “That wasn’t a compliment,” she adds.
I stride out of the pod, Amber hot on my heels. “Quit acting like my shadow.”
“Jerk,” she mutters under her breath.
I look over my shoulder. “I heard that.”
“You were meant to.”
My lips tug up at the corners, but I can’t quite bring myself to laugh—not when Ariana is out there somewhere, her life in possible danger.
Persuading Amber that I’m capable of talking to the CO on my own, I walk alone to the command tent. I spot Commander De Luca’s head the second I step into the tent. “Sir? Can I have a word?”
He motions me over with his fingers. I put in my request immediately. Tipping back in his chair, he frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that. Malcolm must be going out of his mind with worry.” I shoot him an “I’m going out of my mind with worry” look. “I understand,” he says, sitting up straighter, “but I can’t release you this minute. I’ll have to put in a request for a replacement. We lost too many in the last raid, and I can’t afford to be a man down.”
Hell no. I need to go now. There’s no way I can hang around here scratching my balls when Ariana is in danger. I pace up and down, chewing on my fingernail. Commander De Luca stands and places himself in front of me. His firm hands land on my shoulders. “I know you care for her, son. I’ll do everything I can to rush the request through. But until then, you’ll have to stick with it. We have to escort one of the medical teams tomorrow morning, and I need you to form part of the guard detail. I should have some news for you when you return.”
I hop anxiously from foot to foot, chock-a-block full of nervous energy. “Okay. Thank you, sir.” It’s an effort to remain polite. The inner demon inside my head urges me to pick him up and throw him at the nearest hard thing. But I shut that nasty voice out. Commander De Luca is one of the good guys, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I hurt him for no reason. The man is only doing his job.
Still, they think they can stop me from going after her? They can think again.
“Cal?” he calls out as I reach the door. “You still taking your meds?” There’s no fooling him. I nod. “Try not to worry, son. Ariana knows how to take care of herself.”
As I walk to the communications tent, I acknowledge his words. Ariana can take care of herself, I know that full well, but it provides no reassurance all the same. If Micha is truly gunning for her ass, then she has the full extent of government resources at her disposal. It wouldn’t be that difficult to get a lock on her location. She’s carrying my baby and if anything should happen to either of them, I think I’ll lose my life. I kick the ground in frustration and try to scrub all destructive thoughts from my head.
Ending the secure comm-call with Ben, I push my palms into my forehead and let out an almighty roar. The female soldier in the booth beside me almost jumps out of her skin. Frustration is building to crescendo-level inside me, and I need to hit something or someone. I’m stuck in this damn hellhole until the next Velo is available. Seventy-two hours was Ben’s best guess. How in the hell am I expected to hunker down here for seventy-two frigging hours when the love of my life could be out there in danger? I crack my neck and try to calm my raging hormones.
I load up my plate and scour the food tent for any sign of familiar faces. Amber raises her hand and waves me over. Xander pins me with a concerned look the minute I sit down. Holy shit sticks, she can’t keep her lips closed for five minutes. I scowl at Amber. As usual, she’s having none of my crap. “Lose the sourpuss, Cal,” she says, pointing her fork at me. “We’re your friends. And we’re here to help.”
“What did the CO say?” Xander asks.
“He’ll put in a rush request for a replacement, but until then I’m stuck here.” I shovel food onto my fork and stuff it in my face.
“Man, this sucks,” Captain Obvious says.
“You think?” I glare at him.
My head jerks back and a searing pain cuts across my cheek. Cupping my hand to my face, I drop my fork and hop up, staring her in the face. “What the fuck, Amber?”
“Are you done being a jerk?”
Xander chuckles. Her expression contains considerable challenge, and rage simmers under my skin. Squeezing my eyes shut, I count to ten. When I reopen them, Amber has re-taken her seat. “Do you have a death wish?”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she says, scooping up a mouthful of potato.
Her relentless confidence in me is heartwarming, though no less alarming. I turn and face Xander. “Sorry for being such an ass. Lousy day.” It’s hardly an excuse. Most every day is a lousy day, and I usually manage to at least act as if I have some level of acceptable social skills.
“It’s okay, bro. I have my fair share of those.” I silently curse my lack of sensitivity. Xander’s twin brother Riga lost his life when the stealth-craft we were traveling to Florida in was firebombed out of the sky by the government. I know he’s had his darks days. We’ve talked about it enough. Two damaged souls always gravitate toward one another.
“I’m an idiot.” I drag my hands through my hair as Amber smirks.
“Glad you’re finally accepting your shortcomings.”
To hell with social skills. I flip her off. She returns the gesture and I laugh. That she can so graciously forgive me for all the crap I put her through in the past is amazing. She’s a great girl and I’m lucky to count her as a friend. But that’s all she is. And I’ve explained that bluntly to her. I don’t think she has any romantic intentions toward me anyway, but when we had our little heart-to-heart, I felt it best to put it all on the line.
And I’m glad we did. Because I don’t think we’d have the friendship we have now if I hadn’t laid that ghost to rest.
“I heard we suffered another defeat this morning,” Xander says, between mouthfuls.
I nod, recalling Commander De Luca’s words. “It seems the government has stepped up the attacks in the last couple of days. The CO said word from our global allies is that attacks in Europe have eased off considerably. Saoirse thinks Calavero is targeting the United States as their main priority.”
“Damn, that’s given me a right case of the chills,” Xander announces.
“I know. More and more it feels like we’re outnumbered and outmaneuvered. But I spoke to my dad the other day, and the Inner Council has a few things up their sleeves,” I admit quietly, unsure if I’m expected to keep his confidence or not.
“Well, I hope they show their hand so
on. We’re losing bodies as fast as we recruit them.” Xander takes a lengthy drink from his cup.
Thrusting my plate away, I rub my hands over my full belly. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, according to Amber. Phantom bonding with my baby, she reckons. I shake my head at her inexperienced attempt at psychoanalysis. Ulcer more like, I told her. Though the bitter churning in my stomach could just be linked to my acidic heart.
I’m lying in bed later that night, fretful as usual. Days burst at the seams with military activity so there’s little time to indulge my depressive inner monologue. But the nights are a different story entirely. All the thoughts I fight so hard to resist assault me when I’m most vulnerable.
Ariana is always at the forefront of my mind, never more so than today. Zane’s revelation has confused me. When she left without saying goodbye, I was stunned into silence. Then Dad explained she’d had no choice and some of the stress had leaked out. Commander Skyee passed on her message: I’m sorry. That was the extent of it and I’ve puzzled over it every day since.
Sorry we’re over? Sorry I chose him over you? Sorry I took your heart and trampled all over it? Or simply I’m sorry that I left like this? My thoughts have swung back and forth as I’ve tried to make sense of it. How powerful two simple words can be.
I’d waited for her to contact me, but the call never came. As days turned into weeks and then into months, I’ve tried to come to terms with the fact that she must have chosen him. That that’s what the message meant. Cursing myself for throwing that stupid ultimatum at her in the heat of an argument, and for telling her it was over, I’ve wondered why I always seem to be at the helm of my own destruction.
Maybe I should’ve tried to contact her, but the way I see it, I’m always the one giving chase. Just this once, I needed her to pursue me.
I needed to know that she does care and what we’ve shared was real; to believe that I’m truly in possession of her love. The longer time passed with no word, the harder it felt for me to make that move. I should’ve contacted her when she first left, but it’s too late now.
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