Catalyst

by Kristin Smith

  “About getting really close to the leader of the Fringe?” His eyes narrow.

  “Maybe. But why should you care?”

  “I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “And yet, I do.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Out of curiosity, what did you tell Arian? Why is Emily staying with you?”

  An embarrassed grin creeps over his face. “I told her you two are my cousins, and you needed me to watch your sister while you were on assignment.”

  My mouth drops open. “Your cousin?” Well, that explains the complete and utter ease with seeing Zane and me together in his kitchen.

  “I didn’t know how to explain who you are.” He frowns. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey Arian, there’s this girl I can’t stop thinking about and she needs a place for her sister to stay while she goes to fight the bad guys and save her mother.’” He shakes his head. “Probably wouldn’t have gone over well.”

  “You think?” I say, rivers of sarcasm running through my voice. “And what did you tell your dad? The same thing?” I smirk.

  Zane’s mouth lifts a little. “Obviously not. I told him the truth—kind of. I said that Emily is the sister of a friend who had to go out of town for a few days.”

  A friend. Of course.

  I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. The stress and lack of sleep is wearing me down. When I open them, Zane is staring at me, his eyebrows dipping low in concern.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I sigh as if the weight of the world rests on my shoulders. “I will be. All I need is a good night’s sleep and my mother home again.” I swallow hard. “But in the meantime, you need to find out what’s going on in your dad’s lab. There’s some bad stuff, really bad stuff.”

  “Okay. I will,” he says. He hesitates before glancing around and muttering, “What the hell.” His arms wrap around my waist and pull me to him. I bury my face in his chest and inhale the clean, fresh scent of laundry detergent. “Five days,” he murmurs. “I’ll have your mother for you in five days. I promise.” He kisses the top of my head and releases me.

  When he shuts the door behind him, I know his promise is one I can trust.

  ***

  When I get back to the Compound, I go straight to my room. The stark white walls are blinding, but I find comfort in knowing it is a place of refuge. An escape.

  Lying back on my bed, I think about my visit with Zane. I don’t understand why I’m drawn to him or why I feel safe when I’m in his arms. It’s probably because he’s a GM and everything about him screams perfection, even his stupid voice that has me practically begging to hear my name uttered again.

  And there was the kiss. The one that lit my body on fire. My fingers absentmindedly trace my lips.

  A sharp knock on the door startles me.

  “Come in,” I say, rising from the bed. I suspect it’s Trina stopping by to get a full report on my visit with Emily and Zane.

  However, it’s Trey who enters the room and shuts the door behind him. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like hell.

  “Hey, where were you?” he asks casually. “I came by earlier to see if you wanted to do some target shooting.”

  “I went to visit a friend.”

  He chuckles. “Does this friend have a name?”

  “Yes.” But I really don’t want to tell you.

  Trey shrugs and moves toward my bed. “May I?” he asks before taking a seat.

  “Fine by me.” I sit across from him in the plastic, sloped-back chair—the only accessory in my room.

  “Sienna, about last night—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Huh?” He stares at me, confused.

  “I know you didn’t mean to kill him.”

  Trey shakes his head. “But that’s the problem, I wanted to kill him. When I saw what he planned to do to you—” His fists clench. “I lost it.” He looks at me, his eyes full of sorrow. “I lost it. And I’m sorry.” He throws his hands up. “All I do is apologize lately. First Garrett—” He chokes. “I didn’t want to leave him.” His eyes plead with mine. “Do you know how hard it was for me? To turn my back and watch him die?”

  The guilt is eating away at him, and it breaks my heart. I move to the bed beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know it was hard. And I’m sorry we couldn’t save him. But it’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

  Trey nods and leans toward me, his eyes fixated on my mouth. His hand grazes my chin. “I know we are. I just needed to hear you say it.”

  He exhales, and I smell the liquor on his breath. I know I should ask him to leave, but a part of me is curious.

  When his mouth covers mine, it surprises me. His kiss is so completely different from Zane’s, and yet, just as thrilling. He is urgent. Excited. A little out of control. I feel his hands slide around my body, pulling me close, working their way under my shirt.

  A warning flashes in my brain, but I ignore it. It feels too good. His hands caress my bare back and move to my stomach, sending a million butterflies throughout my body. When his fingers trace the underwire of my bra, I can’t breathe. I know I have to stop him.

  I lightly push his hands away, but he continues to kiss me, driving me backward on the bed. His hands wrap around my rear and bring me even closer to him. My mind screams at me to stop. With shaking hands, I sit up and push him off.

  “That’s enough,” I say, my voice stern. My heart is beating fast, and the ache in my stomach has turned to a pulsating throb.

  Trey sits back with a dazed look on his face. I wonder if he’ll remember this episode in the morning. Will he regret it?

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I don’t know what came over me.” He stands to leave. “Just forget this happened. Please.” He strides out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

  My fingers instinctively touch my lips, and then move to the fire in my cheeks.

  I can’t believe he kissed me. It was unexpected, and yet, it felt… right. Unlike Zane’s kiss that can never amount to anything, this—this is real. Or it could be.

  To think that before today, I’d never kissed one boy, let alone two. Two boys in one day. What are the chances?

  ***

  Over the next few days, I get the feeling Trey is avoiding me. When I take a seat at the lunch table and join him, Trina, Jeff, Curly, Cade, and a few other kids that I’m slowly learning their names, he gets up and leaves the room. When I ask for help at target practice, he instructs Curly to help me. When I have dish or laundry duty and he passes by, he nods politely but keeps going.

  Was it really that awful? Was kissing me such a turn off that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore? I understand he’s older and has more experience, but come on.

  After the fourth day of avoidance, I decide to corner him. During our hour of Reflections—the time we are required to sit and reflect on how to better ourselves and the world around us—I go to his room. If he tells me I’m disgusting, or if he says he hates my guts, I’ll leave him alone. But I need to hear him say it.

  I knock hard, determined not to appear weak and groveling.

  The door swings open, and Trey takes a step back when he sees me.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks. “You’re supposed to be doing Reflections.”

  I let myself into his room and close the door behind me. I nod to his bed. “May I?” This conversation is starting to sound eerily familiar.

  He shrugs. “Be my guest.” He’s trying to play it cool, but there’s no mistaking the second of panic that flashes through his eyes when I sit down on his bed. He takes a seat across from me in the wooden desk chair.

  I stare down at my hands. I had this all planned out in my mind, but now the words fail me. I glance up at him, at his arms crossed over his chest, at his expressionless, laid-back stance. “Did I do something wrong?” I finally blurt out.

  His eyes soften, but then he scowls. “No. Of course not. I did.”

  “Why do you say that?”
I press. “I liked it.”

  His face thaws, and he chuckles. “Just because you liked it doesn’t make it right.”

  “So now you’re avoiding me because you’re afraid you’ve given me the wrong impression?”

  “Yes. I mean no—”

  “Well, which is it?”

  Trey sighs, all traces of hardness gone. He leans forward, his arms resting on his knees. “Listen, Sienna. When I came to your room the other night, I was drunk. I was miserable. I was feeling guilty, and I guess I was looking for comfort. I wanted to see you, but not like that.” He pauses, his stare intense. “I wanted to kiss you. Hell, I want to kiss you. But it was wrong for me to do it when I could barely remember it the next morning.”

  My heart sinks. He doesn’t remember it. That totally electrifying kiss that rocked my insides, and he has no recollection.

  “I mean, I remember parts of it. I know it was good. But when I kiss you, I want to be fully aware, every sense heightened. I want to remember everything.”

  Before I realize what I’m doing, I stand and move toward him. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I tilt his head back as surprise registers in his eyes.

  “I remember it,” I whisper. “Everything about it. And I can promise you, it was a moment I’ll never forget.” I bend over and kiss him lightly on the lips, which sparks a chain reaction, just as I’m hoping.

  His strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. He kisses my forehead, and my body tingles from the nearness of him. Tilting his head back, he stares at me with more longing than I knew a guy could possess. His mouth covers mine, and I’m lost. In his embrace. In his lips. In his hands that drag me closer until our bodies are pressed together.

  Through the thin cotton of my shirt, I can feel the warmth of his hands pressed against my back. His kisses light me up, but his hands spread the fire.

  When his mouth moves down my jaw, a small sigh escapes.

  “Sienna,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my ear.

  Biting my lip to keep from kissing him again, I pull back long enough to look at him. His deep blue eyes pull me in, and I feel like I’m drowning.

  “I thought it was awesome kissing you while I was drunk,” he says, “but it’s fifty times better when I’m sober.”

  “You stopped kissing me to tell me that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You could have told me later,” I point out. Placing my hands on his cheeks, the stubble rough and scratchy against my skin, I lean in. “Shut up and kiss me.”

  Trey raises an eyebrow and grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

  ***

  Early the next morning, I’ve just finished dressing when there’s a knock on the door. I open it to find Trey leaning against the doorframe. He’s freshly showered and shaved, which makes me want to run my hands over his smooth skin.

  He steps inside and pulls me to him, grinning at my surprised look. “Good morning,” he murmurs against my lips.

  My hands touch his face and glide over his hard jaw. He kisses my hand before finding my lips again.

  “Listen,” he says, pulling away. “I want you to know I haven’t given up on your mom. I’ve been in contact with some people, but it might take some time to locate her. Okay?”

  I nod. “Thank you.” I think of Zane’s promise—hopefully, I won’t have to wait much longer. I feel somewhat bad for going behind Trey’s back, but the more people looking for her, the better.

  Trey clears his throat. “I was thinking of doing some target shooting this morning. Care to join me?”

  “Now that you’re talking to me again,” I say, “I’d love to.”

  He winks. “I think we’ve been doing more than talking.”

  “Yeah, and now, hopefully, you feel bad for shutting me out the past few days.”

  His hands slide around my back, pulling me to him. “Really bad. How can I make it up to you?”

  “If you kiss me again, I think I’ll forgive you.”

  My body tingles as Trey complies, moving to my neck first and ending with my mouth. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press my body against his. I think he’s the first to pull away, but I’m not sure. I’m too lightheaded to be fully aware of anything.

  Trey sighs and frowns. “I can see you’re gonna be a distraction.”

  I step back and cross my arms over my chest, my eyes narrowing. “What does that mean?”

  Trey laughs. “No, it’s a good thing—well, and a bad thing.”

  I raise my eyebrows, not amused.

  He reaches for me, but I step out of his grasp. “You have to remember,” he says, “I’m the leader. I can’t appear weak or no one will respect me.”

  “So I make you weak?” I glare at him. The more he talks, the worse this sounds.

  His expression softens. “No, you make me more than…”

  “More than what?”

  “More than I was.” He clears his throat, and I know he’s embarrassed. “We just have to be careful. No one should know.”

  I can’t help the grin that creeps to my face. “I’m a pretty good liar.”

  Trey smiles and reaches for me. “So you say.” His lips are warm as he kisses me on the forehead. “And now you can prove it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Zane Ryder is a miracle worker. True to his word, in less than five days, he’s able to override Radcliffe and get permission for the release of my mother.

  We meet by the railroad tracks a quarter mile from the hidden entrance to the Compound. When he picks me up in his Aria, I slide into the passenger seat, my heart already pounding from nervous energy. He smiles and appears completely at ease, but I’m about to have a coronary. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  “How’s Emily?” I ask, trying to get my mind off what’s ahead.

  Zane smiles at me before throwing the car in gear. “She’s doing well.” He chuckles. “She made me have a tea party with her yesterday.”

  “Really? Where did you get the tea set? There aren’t many little girls lurking around your house.”

  “Arian brought it over—” He casts a nervous glance in my direction. “Emily invited her too.”

  The muscles in my neck tighten. So, Arian is having a tea party with my sister while I train to fight the bad guys. Sounds fair. Not.

  “I’m glad Emily is having fun,” I force out.

  I don’t know why I should care. I’ve spent the past two days kissing another guy. Why shouldn’t Zane have a tea party with his fiancée?

  The injustice of it all stings, reminding me how different we are. I have to fight for my freedom, while he gets to lounge by the pool, drink a cold one, and have pretend tea parties. Our worlds don’t even exist in the same universe.

  “Hey,” he says. “Wanted you to know, I looked into the whole juvenile inmate thing. Couldn’t find anything—no records or such—but something weird is definitely going on. There’s a locked section of the facility on the basement floor, and I don’t even have access to it.” He glances at me. “I haven’t worked up the nerve to ask my father about it yet, though.”

  “Thanks for believing me. I know I probably came off a little harsh.”

  “Not at all. I’m glad you said something. If my dad is doing some crazy experiments on juvenile inmates, I have a right to know. Especially since I will inherit the company.”

  When I look out the window again several minutes later, I notice we are nearing the Satellite Government Facility—or SGF—where the exchange will happen. It’s on the border of the open desert; this is the building Trey rescued me from the night Radcliffe intercepted the exchange. I never got a good look at it that night, but in the day, the large, gray structure is a formidable contrast to the desert landscape.

  “I still don’t know how you managed to pull this off,” I mutter as he parks the car in the half-full lot.

  “Well, AIG now has an incentive for releasing your mom.”

  “What’s the incentive?”

&nb
sp; “A little serum called Re0Gene.”

  “Well…” I wait. “What does it do?”

  “It regenerates cell growth. Promotes quick healing.”

  “Like my miracle burn cream?”

  Zane smiles, shaking his head. “This works a little faster than that.” He reaches for a briefcase in the seat behind him. Once it rests on his lap, he types in a code and opens the clasp. A small vial of purple-colored liquid rests against a velvet backdrop. “I agreed to give them this in exchange for your mother, along with the formula to recreate it,” he says, removing the vial.

  My eyes widen in shock. That must be an extremely important serum for the government to want to get their hands on it. And Zane will lose the rights to the formula. All to help me?

  Zane continues talking. “This serum is my baby. I started working on it when I was eighteen and sliced my head open playing rugby with some friends. I didn’t want to have the scar forever, so I decided to create something that would stimulate a quick regrowth of cells. A miracle healing cream. It took me a couple of years to feel like I had a handle on the formula, and I recently perfected it. I never got a chance to bring it to market, and now, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t.” His eyes flash with excitement. “Here, let me show you how it works. May I?” He indicates the small bandage on my arm, the one from the tracker incision.

  I nod and watch as he carefully removes it. His smile fades when he sees the pulled stitches and red, fleshy wound still struggling to heal.

  “What happened?”

  I sigh. “Radcliffe, the man who kidnapped my mother, put a tracker inside of me. When I joined the Fringe, one of the members helped me remove it.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  I give him an exasperated look. “What do you think?”

  Concern fills his eyes along with something else. Doubt? Maybe he now realizes there is more to the story than I’ve told him before.

  “Watch this,” he says.

  He unscrews the cap on the vial and dabs a small amount onto the incision. A tingling sensation moves under the puckered skin, and then snakes its way up my arm. Almost immediately, the severed skin fuses until there’s no more line, pushing out the unneeded stitches until they fall onto my lap. The redness on my arm fades away, turning my skin a pale pink, and then back to a shade of white.