Catalyst: Book 2 in The Dark Paradise Chronicles

by Isadora Brown

  “You are forgetting something,” Henry said, locking eyes with Ollo. The god frowned, his mind trying to grasp what he could have possibly left out. “You are assuming Lucas Burr is responsible for the Lespoirs’ demise, but we can’t be certain of that. You have to remember that as of this moment, the culprit could be anybody.”

  Andie

  It was the beginning of February, and Andie was still getting used to going to school again. Apparently, Tucker Wilson wasn’t that much of a recluse, because he immediately informed her teacher she had completed the necessary hours required for the internship in a month so there was no reason to attend anymore. Though Aaron Groundling’s arrest was public knowledge and her ordeal had been broadcasted for a couple of days, she didn’t want anyone to catch wind of their previous history together. Wilson probably wanted to save his company’s face, both publically and financially, so he gave Andie outstanding reviews and released her from her position with the promise of a letter of recommendation if she ever needed it. This information was given to her by Sookie Chesterman, Aaron Groundling’s much more amicable replacement, so she had had no direct contact with Tucker Wilson.

  Which really didn’t matter. She had a guaranteed A in the class and stayed on top of homework by finishing it right after school. In the evenings, she could focus on getting donations for her animal shelter. Her animal shelter. Which meant she was insistent she do everything the right way in terms of starting it up and opening it. Jack kept insisting on loaning her the money, but she refused outright. Instead, she allowed him to assist her with scouting for a suitable location for the shelter and recruiting recurring donors for it. When Jack called her from the office to tell her that a meeting was scheduled with one such donor, she huzzah’ed on the phone, causing Jack to snicker and Carey to give her a look as she blocked Andie to ensure no teachers or security guards would catch her on the phone with her billionaire boyfriend, even during lunch.

  Boyfriend.

  The word still caught her off-guard and took her breath away. She had a boyfriend.

  Well, technically they hadn’t labeled their relationship, but it was, in fact, a relationship, and they were together. Exclusively.

  There was still a lot to talk about, however. How soon would they go public? Should they go public at all? Would they actually have to say anything in particular? She knew he kept a bad boy reputation so no one would think he was the Black Wing. Would he have to pretend to still be that person, even though they were together? Because she was not okay with that.

  How did someone be the girlfriend of a billionaire who also happened to be a secret vigilante? A guardian angel? How could she be that, and a student, and a sister, and a daughter, and the executive director of her own animal shelter? The latter was the hat she had to wear this evening.

  Currently, she was in her room in the manor, trying on different business-appropriate dresses and coaching herself on how to behave tonight. If Reese hadn’t been going through her own troubles, Andie would have invited her over for some girl talk and aesthetic advice. She had no experience and she was nervous. There was a reason seventeen-year-olds didn’t run their own companies—for the most part—she had tests and boys and parents and problems she needed to worry about.

  And when did sex factor into the equation? They had been together for three weeks and four days, and while they had had amazing make out sessions, they had yet to cross that last line. Sex was always a sensitive subject for her. After Aaron…. She didn’t want to think about it. About a month into that relationship, he’d pressured her to keep going and she kept saying no until she said yes just to shut him up. And he took it without being sensitive or gentle or grateful. And she stayed with him because she didn’t know that what he had done was wrong, because in her mind, she could have stopped him but didn’t.

  Do not cry, Shepherd. Just stop thinking about it.

  So, sex. With Jack. It would certainly be pleasant. Although, that wasn’t really saying all that much, and pleasant wasn’t the word she thought should be associated with sex. She knew what she was doing, of course. She knew her preferences, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous. Jack had had sex with lots of women and Andie had had sex with one man lots and lots of times. She wouldn’t deny the importance of sex in a relationship—it was up there with trust, respect, and a good sense of humor—and what if it wasn’t good between them? What if it was just…meh? He was experienced and so was she, but he had a few years and hundreds of partners on her and—

  “Stop it, Shepherd. Stop thinking about Jack having sex. You have a business meeting you need to concentrate on. And you need to find a cute, professional outfit.”

  She wished Keirah were still around. It would be so much easier to have someone to vent to.

  Andie finally decided on a little black dress that was both modest and formfitting. She fussed her hair back into a bun, and just as she began to put on her makeup, a knock interrupted her.

  “Come in,” she called, expecting it to be Beverly.

  Except it wasn’t. It was her mom. She had to do a double-take because of how much she and Keirah looked alike. Her brown hair was pulled back into a decent bun and she was wearing a dowdy business suit. But it was better than the pajamas she wore out. And the fact that she was out of the house in the first place was a big deal.

  “I’m glad to see you have your own room,” she remarked, her dark eyes glancing around.

  Andie’s eyes narrowed. Any glimmer of longing, of missing her mother, vanished. “What are you doing here?” she snapped, with more attitude than she originally intended. She wanted to sound flat, indifferent.

  “I heard Aaron—”

  “That was a month ago,” Andie said, going back to her makeup. She wasn’t good at multitasking in this way, but it needed to get done and there was no way she wanted to give her mother her full attention. Suddenly, something dawned on Andie. She whipped her head around so her eyes landed on her mouth. Her neck pinched in protest. “This little visit isn’t about me, is it? It’s about Keirah.”

  “Andie, listen.” Judith Shepherd sounded desperate, something she never was. Her brown eyes lightened as they pleaded with her daughter. “You have the means now. Maybe we could hire a private investigator—”

  “Means?” Andie said through a hiss. Her eyes flashed dark as she finished her eyeliner. “Means? You think that just because I’m dating Jack Phillip I can just use his money to find my criminal sister who doesn’t even want to be found? I don’t think so.” She went back to the mirror to start applying her eye shadow.

  “Don’t say that about your sister,” Judith said. “She’s just lost her way. Maybe if I had paid more attention to her, or wasn’t hard on her the way I had been—”

  “Mom, she made her choice.” Andie couldn’t help but shake her head, hoping the small gesture would calm her down. Right now, she was nothing short of livid. “Don’t justify her behavior. She is an adult. She knows the difference between right and wrong. Don’t blame yourself for what she did. If you want, I can give you something to take blame for: neglecting your duties as a mother, isolating yourself from us, blaming Dad for everything when half of it was your fault, blaming me for looking like Dad, and blaming Keirah for looking like you. You didn’t take responsibility for anything, Mom. And you cannot facilitate the same thing for her. So stop.”

  “This is my chance, Andie.” Again, that desperation. “My chance to be a good mom.”

  “A good mom? If you wanted to be a good mom, you would have been there for me after my ex-boyfriend kidnapped me and tortured me.”

  “Yes, I messed up, but I can be better.”

  “Better?” Andie paused in order to put gloss on her lips. She made sure to look her mother in the eye when she said, “You can’t save Keirah, Mom.”

  There was a tense silence, and Andie went back to her mirror to make sure she looked decent for the evening. She wasn’t too familiar with complex makeup details, and it was odd to look at t
he finished product in the mirror. She was pleased with herself, however. She looked quite pretty.

  “Andie,” Judith murmured. For some reason, there was pity in her eyes. Either that, or guilt. “I…I want to make things right between the two of us, too.”

  And that was when Andie snapped.

  “Mom,” she said in an uncharacteristically calm voice. “You kicked me out of the house because you blamed me for Keirah’s kidnapping. A lot has happened in that time, but it’s made me a stronger person. So in a weird, twisted way, you made me a stronger person. Everything is fine with us, but I don’t want a relationship with you. I’ve made it this far on my own. I’ve learned that, actually, I don’t need you, and quite frankly, I’m better off without you.”

  “Andie—”

  “No, Mom.” Andie turned to face her mom. “You kicked me out of the house. I’m kicking you out of my life. You and Keirah,” she amended. “I love you and I sincerely hope you’re happy. You look good and more put-together than I’ve seen you since Dad left. That’s great. But I have too much on my plate to worry about you too. I can’t do it anymore, Mom. I just can’t.”

  Judith opened her mouth as though she was about to say something, to refute Andie, but something stopped her. Andie wasn’t sure if Judith saw something in her look, her eyes, but there was something about her mother that indicated that she finally believed her. Judith nodded once, but before she left, Andie turned away. She didn’t want to watch her mother walk out of her life, especially when Andie was the one who made it that way. She felt guilt settle on her shoulders, but soon that would go away. She knew that because along with that guilt came relief.

  Andie allowed herself a moment to breathe in and out, in and out, and then she slid on her heels and headed out the door. She hoped the gray clouds looming over head didn’t signify rain.

  Keirah

  Noir was gone again, doing something that related to whatever plan he was working on now that they had robbed a few banks and killed a few henchmen. She hadn’t killed anyone, of course, but she knew he did, and she wouldn’t lie, seeing him so angry yet so collected turned her on.

  How long had it been since Noir had scooped her up from Underwood Mental Institution? She hadn’t counted the days, and honestly, it really didn’t matter. She was completely content in her current environment, looking forward to the exhilaration her persona, Bombshell, brought to her otherwise mundane life. Life before Noir, actually. Life with Onyx’s most notorious criminal was anything but boring. Even on days such as today, when there was really nothing to do, there always seemed to be something to do.

  And there was always the act of making love.

  Keirah smiled warmly, but a blush tickled the tips of her cheeks as she thought about what had occurred only a couple of days ago. And it was she who had initiated such lewd behavior. Well…she didn’t think it was lewd at the time. And Noir hadn’t objected. In fact, it would seem that he wanted it as badly as she did. Keirah wasn’t stupid. She knew Noir got turned on when he killed people. That was why, when he shot the henchmen who had been present during the time she fucked him, he had her flat on her back and ravaged her body again.

  It gave her a thrill. It was twisted and demented, but God, it only enhanced their sex life. Gasoline on the already-burning fire, as they say.

  She tilted her head, staring mindlessly at the television screen that was currently playing an episode of The Wendy Williams Show. Keirah got really into the show because it was on at a time when Noir was out and about while she was stuck in the manor. Ever since the two men had attempted to rape Keirah while Noir was gone, he had her tag along on his errands, but lately he had wanted her to stay at home while he did things he didn’t want her to know about. To ensure her safety without his presence, any henchman found at the manor while he was away would be shot without question. At first, Keirah wasn’t exactly comfortable, wondering if some of the men would be stupid enough to try and hide from him, thinking they could get away with it, but so far, nothing had happened, and she was getting more and more comfortable being alone as the days went on.

  “This just in,” a voice said, snapping Keirah out of her thoughts and causing her to focus on the television screen. Rarely was anything so newsworthy as to interrupt Wendy Williams. “Commissioner Bryan Jarrett of the Onyx police department has just been rushed to Onyx General following a confrontation with none other Noir himself. While details are sparse, we here at Onyx Broadcasting have managed to acquire a few tidbits of information, plus a picture of Jarrett as he was being rushed into an ambulance.”

  Keirah felt her whole spine stiffen and her eyes narrowed. He had told her—warned her—that he would kill Jarrett, but she never imagined he would actively seek out the commissioner and inflict harm on him just for the sake of doing so. Noir never worked like that; everything, every plan, was some sort of game. If the citizens of Onyx won, they would not be harmed—until the next game, of course—and if they lost that was when the damage was done. She knew she was pushing it, but Noir, when considering the population of Onyx as a whole, only killed people if they lost the game.

  Commissioner Jarrett wasn’t even playing.

  “As far as we know, Commissioner Jarrett was exiting the police station in broad daylight when Noir confronted him. Though we do not have an audio or visual recording, a few witnesses have confirmed that Noir said something along the lines of, ‘Well, well, well, Commissioner. I hear you’ve been getting a little too friendly with my girl. You do realize this is unprofessional, don’t you? Have you been punished for this breech in code of conduct? No? Well, let me take that honor then, please.’ And then they claim he reached into his blazer pocket, pulled out a knife and started to stab Commissioner Jarrett repeatedly. He stopped after a moment and then slipped the knife back into his jacket before skipping—yes, skipping—away, as though nothing had happened, as though he didn’t just stab an honored police commissioner.”

  Suddenly, a grainy picture that was probably taken on a cell phone popped up on the screen. It showed Jarrett on a gurney, unconscious. He appeared to be shirtless, with multiple bands of gauze wrapped around his torso. Other than that, it was hard to decipher anything else.

  Keirah was in shock. Her eyes immediately clouded with unshed tears, and she hoped beyond a reasonable doubt that somehow Jarrett would pull through. That he would survive.

  “Jarrett is still in critical condition. He has a wife, Linda, of six years, and a newborn baby boy. She has yet to comment on the situation. We’ll have more on this story later tonight. And now back to your scheduled programming.”

  Keirah was still dumbstruck by the turn of events when Noir walked through the door a half an hour later. She had never started a fight with him about anything really, but this time he pushed her too far. Did he really think that she wouldn’t find out about what he had done, and even if she had, did he think she wouldn’t be upset by it? Did he really think she was that…compliant?

  “Hello, darling,” he greeted with a wolfish grin, pushing his eyebrows up as he walked in front of her. When he saw the glare currently occupying her brown eyes, he cocked his head at a forty-five degree angle, as if he was a scientist studying a specimen. “What, pray tell, is, uh, wrong?” he asked.

  “What did you do to Jarrett?” Keirah asked, her eyes narrowed sharply and her stance rigid and tense. His presence did nothing to intimidate her; she had known him for too long and knew him too well.

  “Ah, I see you’ve, hum…heard about our dear commissionerrrrr,” Noir drawled, the corner of his lips twitching up as he regarded Keirah with bronzed eyes. They sparkled darkly, Keirah uncertain of their intent. “Well, it seemed he had a…oh, what shall we call it? A, a situation.”

  Keirah, without fully comprehending what she was doing, reached up and slapped him across the face. Hard.

  It was the sound of her hand touching his skin in such fashion that caused Noir the most surprise, but he reached up and touched his chin anyway. N
ow as he regarded the woman in front of him, all amusement left his face. He was angry.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked him. “Out of all the people you could have done that to, why did you choose him?”

  This time it was Noir who slapped Keirah across the face. Because he was much stronger than she was, his slap stung and would probably leave a mark.

  “Because you’re mine, and he, well, he doesn’t seem to think so,” Noir growled, his gloved hands curling at his sides. “And yanno what? I hope the bastard dies. Then Onyx will be in such an uproar and at, uh, well, at its most vulnerable. I could take them for a, hum…ride.”

  “And what about me?” Keirah asked, her eyes shifting to a color almost black due to the tears accumulating in her eyes. “Don’t you care what I think?”

  “You shouldn’t care about…that man,” Noir said, his voice cleanly articulated and slow. “All you should care about is me.”

  “Well, I do care about Jarrett,” Keirah said. “He was there for me when you couldn’t be.”

  It was probably the words that set him off, knowing that he wasn’t the sole person she cared about in this cold and bleak world, or maybe it was the fact that she pointed out something he wanted to avoid hearing despite how true it was. Whatever it was caused him to seethe in anger, however. He lunged at Keirah, needing to take his anger out on something.

  Well, it appeared Keirah needed to do the same thing because she met his attack with one of her own, and for the next five minutes, they slapped, punch, kicked, and everything in between. It was the first physical fight they had gotten into without the intention of sex during or after.

  “I can’t be here,” Keirah shouted, pushing herself up to a standing position as best as she could.