Catalyst

by Kristin Smith

  ***

  I expect Radcliffe to handcuff me and take me back to his dark prison, but all he does is nod at the door.

  “You may go,” he says.

  Waves of shock wash over me, and I stand there, my arms ready to be tied up, cuffed, or bound. I watch Radcliffe raise his arm and speak into his watch, but he doesn’t come near me. Instead, he scoots back his chair and sidles out of the room, followed by a puffing Mr. Chadwick. Clearly, he’s not too happy that he didn’t get his serum. I sit and wait for a few minutes, staring at the blank wall. Surely, they are coming for me.

  After what seems like an eternity, I realize they are indeed not coming for me. There is no cavalry. There is no Sienna takedown. There’s no one but me.

  Alone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The sunlight blinds me and sends white, glaring dots across my vision as I push open the glass door of the Satellite Government Facility. It’s so bright that it hurts to open my eyes. I blink rapidly until my eyes adjust to the sun, and then I turn to scan the parking lot. I know he’s long gone. I don’t even pretend to believe he’ll stick around.

  Sure enough, the space where the Aria was parked is now empty.

  A small piece of me crumbles. If I hadn’t wasted the past year lying and stealing to make money, this would have never happened. If I hadn’t allowed myself to care for him, to develop feelings for him, then I wouldn’t be in this situation.

  There’s only one person now who cares enough to help me. Pulling out my Lynk, I call Trey. He’s surprised I left the Compound without telling him, and I can only imagine the lecture I’ll get later. Thankfully, he agrees to come get me. But not at the government facility. We decide to meet at the gas station a mile down the road.

  I set to walking the narrow highway that looks like it leads to the middle of nowhere. Like a strip of gray in a sea of endless brown, the road stretches as far as I can see. It’s another hot desert day, and these Pavilion-find jeans and dark purple, scoop-neck shirt absorb the heat and cause my body to burn. As the sweat rolls down my back and trickles into my eyes, I think, Why shouldn’t I be as miserable on the outside as I am on the inside?

  The road blurs a little, either from the heat rising up from the blacktop or from the tears that sting my eyes.

  Then I think of Emily, still with Zane. I know he would never hurt her, but it’s time for me to take her back. Maybe I can bring her to the Compound, introduce her to Trey, Curly, and Trina. Yes, first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll pick her up.

  I pull my Lynk from my pocket and send Zane a message, apologizing for what happened and informing him that I plan to get my sister in the morning. But of course, there’s no response.

  The gas station is nearly deserted, and I take a seat on the curb to wait for Trey. All of this seems too normal. I half-expect men in tinted black SUVs to pull up and nab me, or a sniper who sits a mile out to take me down. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t think I do normal very well. I’ve spent the past couple of weeks watching over my shoulder, prepared to fight, always on edge. It feels weird not to be that way.

  I hear Trey’s pickup before I see it. The only vehicle on the road, I know it has to be him. He pulls up in front of the curb, and I climb in. All I want to do is forget about the heartache I feel at my mother’s rejection. Forget about how much I hurt Zane with my lies. Forget about the triumphant smile on Radcliffe’s face when he realized he’d won. I played his game, and he beat me.

  In order to forget, I do the only thing I can think of. I slide over to Trey and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his warm skin. He must have just showered because he smells of bath soap. I pull back, and his eyes register surprise and then appreciation as my fingers brush over his strong jaw and smooth lips. My mouth finds his, and, for a moment, I do forget. I’m just a girl kissing a boy, and there are no GMs, no Colonel Radcliffe. No loss of innocence, no misplaced mother, and no dead father.

  His fingers slide over the curve of my waist and draw me closer.

  I’m breathless when we finally pull apart.

  “I’ll never get used to you doing that,” he says, shaking his head with a smile.

  “Good,” I answer back. I know it’s strange, but I do feel lighter. Like his kisses suck out all the dark, all the negative, and leave only the good parts of me.

  He cocks his head to the side. “Do you want to go somewhere? Maybe get away for a few hours?”

  “Can you do that?” I ask. I know he’s busy training and today is Shipment Day. Even though he didn’t go on the supply run, he’ll need to be there to organize the goods when they get back.

  He pulls my chin closer and kisses my nose. “Yes, I can. Even I need a break sometimes. Besides, Nash is there. He can take care of things until I get back.”

  Just hearing Nash’s name makes my skin run cold, despite the heat fogging the windows. So much for escaping all the bad parts of my life. I’m about to kiss Trey again to force away the feeling of Nash’s hands around my neck, but he starts the truck and pulls away from the curb.

  We ride in silence, further away from the Compound. When I glance behind me, the city is but a speck in the distance. Trey clears his throat before breaking the silence.

  “Do you want to tell me why you were at the SGF?” His eyes flit to mine for a moment before returning to the road.

  I sigh, already knowing he won’t like that I went to another guy for help.

  “Sienna?”

  I clear my throat. “I want to tell you everything. I do,” I say. “But can you wait a little longer?”

  He glances at me, but he doesn’t press for more information.

  It takes an hour to drive to the place Trey wants to take me. This area of the desert is more lush and green, as if long ago people cared enough to plant trees and bushes conducive to the heat.

  Trey parks the truck under a low-hanging palm tree and strides around the car to let me out. I’m already out before he reaches the passenger side. He grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me through a canopy of trees. A shiver of delight travels up my spine as his thumb caresses the back of my hand.

  We are alone out here. My heart pounds at the implication. We’ve stolen a few private moments in the last couple of days since our first kiss, but we’ve never been completely alone. There’s always been someone knocking at his door because they need something, or someone coming down the hall. Not wanting to be discovered, we always had to pull apart. But this time, there is no one. No distractions. No interruptions. Nothing.

  My stomach twists in nervousness. I don’t know how I feel about being alone with him. I trust him, of course. But I don’t know if I trust myself.

  My fingers glide over the glossy, heart-shaped leaves of a hibiscus. Trey stops and snaps a yellow flower from the bush. His fingers brush against my cheek as he tucks the bloom behind my ear.

  The canopy of flowers and trees open up to reveal a lagoon. With sloping dirt sides rising around it and overflowing foliage trailing all around the greenish-blue water, it looks inviting. And completely secluded.

  “How did you know about this place?” I ask, bending down to test the water. It’s cool enough to entice, especially on a hot day like this.

  “My dad discovered it when he was scouting out a place for the Compound. We used to come here all the time when I was younger. It was my mom’s favorite place. It was the one place outside the Compound that Mom and Dad could escape to.”

  I stand and face him. “Do you miss her?”

  “Not as much as I used to. Claire was a very strong, no-nonsense kind of woman.” He tilts his head and studies my face until a flush creeps to my cheeks. “You sometimes remind me of her.”

  I smile and wait because it looks like he wants to say more. He takes a seat at the edge of the water, patting the ground beside him. I sit and adjust my body so I face him, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

  “My mom didn’t always have it e
asy. Being married to my father, I mean.”

  I stare at him, listening intently. He’s never said much about his parents before.

  “Their whole marriage, he was in love with another woman.”

  My mouth drops open. “Did he cheat on your mom?”

  Trey shakes his head and glances down at the ground. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but—” He pauses. “I’m not sure.”

  “This sounds like an interesting story,” I prod.

  “It’s not your typical love story, I’ll tell you that.” He scoops up some of the sandy dirt, letting it trail through his fingers. “You remember how I had you break in to Harlow Ryder’s office?”

  I nod, not sure where he’s headed with this story.

  “Well, I wasn’t completely truthful about the reasoning behind it.”

  Hmm… Seems like I’m not the only one keeping secrets.

  “I mean, yes, I didn’t want that computer chip to get into the wrong hands, but I also wanted to hit Harlow where it hurts. For more reasons than what his company is doing to juvenile delinquents.”

  “Why?”

  Trey sighs. “Years ago, my father and Harlow were friends. Lab partners in University, actually. My father was in love with a woman—a woman by the name of Penelope Fields. He didn’t have much money, so they planned to elope one weekend during their break.

  “Well, Harlow set his eyes on Penelope. Somehow, he convinced her she would be better off with him than my father. Even back then, Harlow was a wealthy, handsome man with the means to give her whatever she wanted. That isn’t what drew her to him, however. Harlow also confided in Penelope that he had created a sophisticated DNA database that could track the genetic makeup of a person and determine the perfect genetic match between two individuals.”

  My mind reels. Penelope Fields was Zane’s mother. Bryant Winchester was in love with Harlow Ryder’s wife? Oh wow, the plot just got even thicker.

  Trey continues. “Penelope was doubtful at first. But when Harlow offered to show her how it worked and test to see if they were a genetic match, she agreed. He took a sample of DNA from both of them, uploaded it to the database, and wouldn’t you know it? They were a perfect match.

  “Harlow convinced Penelope that their marriage would be more successful than their counterparts, that their children would be smarter and better looking. He convinced her that he could make her happy, not my father. Penelope believed him, and my father lost the love of his life. Harlow and Penelope were married a few months later and had a son soon after.”

  Trey pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “When she was in her forties, Harlow mastered genetic modification. Wanting to have a genetically modified child of his own, he convinced her to carry one more child, even though she had a medical condition that made it risky.” His eyebrows lower and he stares at the ground. “She gave birth to Harlow’s greatest creation, his son Zane, but she died right after childbirth. My father blamed Harlow because he cared more about his company than he did his own wife. My father never stopped loving Penelope, even after her death.”

  I remember the hall of pictures in Zane’s house and the words he spoke as we looked at the pictures of his family. My dad often says if he had only lived a lifetime ago, he could have saved my mother.

  “My mom always knew my dad loved another woman,” Trey continues, “but I guess she just accepted it.” He uses a stick to scratch a line in the soft earth. “My mother was a nurse when my dad met her. I think he loved her spunk. So different from Penelope. He tried to immerse himself in her love, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough.”

  “That must have been hard for your mom. Being second best?”

  “At times, I think it was. But like I said before, she was a strong woman. She didn’t let things like that bother her, and if she did, she never let it show.”

  As I sit, reviewing what Trey told me about Harlow, Penelope, Bryant, and Claire, I realize that knowing this now makes what I need to tell Trey easier, and yet, at the same time, more difficult.

  I open my mouth to speak, the truth about Zane bubbling at my lips, when Trey stands, brushes himself off, and starts to remove his shirt. My eyes widen and my mouth closes when he exposes his muscles and the two dimples in his lower back. When he turns, I get a glimpse of fully formed pecs, washboard abs, and a scar on his stomach underneath the last oblique muscle.

  “I think it’s time for a swim.” He grins.

  I’ve never seen him with his shirt off before. Besides his muscles and scar, I’m surprised by a real tattoo of a Phoenix on his left shoulder blade, the kind that sits on top of the skin.

  Something about his tattoo catches my eye, and I stand to get a closer look. My fingers graze over the symbol tattooed on the belly of the Phoenix—interlocking triangles and spirals forming the shape of a tree. The same shape that climbs up his left arm, under the skin.

  “What is it?” I ask, my fingers trailing over his back.

  “A Dara Knot.” He glances over his shoulder. “The Gaelic symbol is an oak tree used to represent power, wisdom, strength, and leadership.”

  “As if you need a symbol representing power and leadership,” I tease. “It’s not like you’re a leader or anything.”

  Trey smirks. “I’m the best damn leader, and you know it.”

  I tilt my head and give him what I hope is a flirty smile. “Do I?”

  He turns and grasps me around the waist, pulling me to him. “Do you need a reminder?”

  Laughing, I move out of his reach and circle his back to get another look at his tattoo. “So, why the Phoenix?” I eye the beautiful red and orange bird with the long tail feathers that trail down his back.

  He shrugs. “I like what a Phoenix represents. That no matter what we’ve done in our past, we have the power to change, to experience a rebirth.”

  That’s exactly what I need. A rebirth. If I can’t wipe away the past year, at least I can change. “I like that, too,” I say, thinking of the butterflies under my skin.

  His eyes connect with mine, and a deep flush spreads to my cheeks. “So,” he says casually, “how about that swim?”

  “I don’t have a swimsuit,” I reply, my heart picking up speed.

  “Who says you need a swimsuit?” He flashes me a wicked grin.

  My fingers reach out to touch the scar on his stomach, and his muscles tighten. “What happened?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. He closes his eyes as I run my fingers over the white mark. When he opens them, he grabs my hand and lifts my fingers to his lips, kissing each one. Slowly. Deliberately.

  My knees go weak as the ache in my belly returns and lights me on fire.

  Trey hooks his fingers in my belt loops and pulls me to him as my heart pounds. His lips cover mine, and I am consumed by the taste of him, the smell of him, and the feel of him. His lips move down my jaw and to my neck, and I throw my head back, clinging to his bare shoulders.

  “Let’s go for a swim,” he says, his lips brushing my ear, his warm breath tickling my hot skin. He steps out of his jeans and dives into the lagoon wearing nothing but his boxers.

  My cheeks flame and match the raging fire inside of me. I take a deep breath and slip out of my jeans. I decide to leave my T-shirt on because no matter how much I like Trey, I don’t feel comfortable swimming around in a bra and panties. It’s one thing to do it when I think no one is around; it’s another to do it with a half-naked guy.

  Trey resurfaces twenty yards out as I make my way into the water. It’s a little unnerving not to see the bottom. I can only begin to wonder what kinds of creatures call this their home.

  “Are there snakes in here?” I’m deathly afraid of them.

  Trey swims closer and tries to splash me with a wave of water. “Probably.” He grins.

  I turn around and retreat. “No way. I’m not swimming in there.”

  Trey swims to the side and climbs out. I avert my eyes to avoid seeing the way his wet boxers cling to him. He scoops me up, m
y legs kicking, and jumps into the water. Squealing, I hang on to his neck as the cool water hits my skin.

  He treads water for a few seconds, still holding me in his arms, before he tips me backward and dunks me. Water floods my eyes and burns my nostrils, and I come up sputtering, my arms flailing. Not very gracefully.

  “You’re gonna get it now,” I threaten, swimming after him.

  But he disappears under the water. In the murky darkness, I have no idea where he’s gone.

  Thirty seconds pass. Forty-five. Then a minute. I turn in the water, my shirt billowing around me, my eyes flitting over the lagoon. My heart pounds after a minute and a half. “Trey,” I call out, my voice shaky with fear. “This isn’t funny.”

  Something grazes against my leg, and I scream. I propel myself forward, but something yanks me back. All I can picture is a giant snake wrapping its body around my leg and dragging me down to the depths. When I kick as hard as I can, my foot lands against something solid. Strong hands grip my waist and drag me closer. When Trey surfaces, I punch him in the shoulder.

  He laughs and runs a hand through his wet hair while I glare at him.

  “That was so not funny,” I retort.

  “I think it was.” His smile is playful.

  “You scared me. I thought—”

  “You thought I got sucked in by the Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

  I want to knock the grin off his face. “You are this close,” I hold together my thumb and forefinger, “to getting the teeth knocked out of your head.”

  His laugh echoes around the water. Encircling my back with his hands, he draws me to him. Even though I like being in his arms, it’s infinitely harder to tread water when you’re in someone else’s space. He lifts my arms around his neck.

  “Here, hold on to me, and I’ll tread water for both of us.” His hand slides down my arm, my smooth, scar-free arm, and he stops. “What the hell?” he says, turning it over and studying it. His eyes connect with mine, and he’s suspicious. “The stitches? The tracker scar? Where is it?”