A dank, musty odor fills my nostrils as I inhale, trying to breathe past the pain. I’m still covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, but my right leg is now bandaged beneath my pants. As I rise slowly to a sitting position, my hands scrape across something sticky. I swallow back the bile that rises in my throat.
When I look around, I see someone huddled like a scared rabbit in the corner of the cinderblock room. My eyes focus on the figure and the shock of red hair.
It’s my mother.
I can’t get to her fast enough. I draw her into my arms as she looks at me with wide eyes.
“Sienna? How’d you—?”
I shush her and stroke her matted hair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.” I pull back to look at her. “Did they hurt you?”
She shakes her head. Her green eyes are tainted with tears, and a slight butterfly rash decorates the bridge of her nose and cheeks—a common symptom of a systemic lupus flare-up. My heart breaks for her. She is too delicate. Too sick. Too fragile to endure this.
I rest my forehead on my mom’s shoulder and hold her as sobs rack her body. Her swollen hands clutch the bottom of my shirt like she’s afraid I might disappear. Physically, she’s in my arms, and yet, she’s not really here. She’s retreated to that place she goes when life is too unbearable.
Gradually, her crying subsides, and I can tell she’s asleep. I reposition my body until I’m leaning against the hard wall, my mother’s head cradled against my chest. My stomach rumbles. The darkness of the cell and lack of windows make it impossible to tell what time it is.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head on the wall as the stench of the cell fills my nostrils. A mixture of urine and body odor. I swallow hard to keep from gagging and bury my face in my mother’s hair. It still smells of lavender shampoo.
A low moan reverberates down the hall, and my eyes snap open. We are not alone. Someone or something is only a few feet away. My body tenses, waiting, listening for another sound.
But there is only silence.
***
Metal scrapes against metal. Radcliffe stands in the doorway of the cell, freshly showered and smelling of bath soap.
“Miss Preston. How are you?” he says, directing his smirk at me. “How’s the assignment coming along?”
I glance down at my mother, whose head is resting in my lap. Thankfully, she’s still asleep. “It’s not,” I say. “How am I supposed to get back into Harlow’s house?”
He gives me a disapproving look. “You’ll have to be creative. You need to get close to Harlow. Get in on the inside, become part of the family.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
Radcliffe’s mouth curves into a wicked grin. “Seduce the pants off his genetically modified son.”
Seduce Zane? Zane? The one engaged to the perfect princess with the endless legs, tan thighs, and perfect size-two body? My lips curl in disgust. Impossible. What would he ever see in me? Pale skin, freckled nose, frizzy red hair… the list goes on.
“If that’s your plan, you must be crazy,” I retort.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have a certain… appeal to men. More than you think.” His eyes rove over my body curiously, as if he has X-ray vision. Shuddering, I cross my arms over my chest.
If I thought killing Harlow was bad, seducing Zane is fifty times worse.
I can’t do it. I won’t do it. There has to be another way. If I can get my mother out of here, we can leave. Go someplace remote where no one can find us. Maybe somewhere up north where it’s not so hot. Or someplace by the ocean—I’ve always wanted to learn to surf.
But then I remember the tracker inside of me. A shiver works its way up my spine. He will always have eyes on me. He will know every move I make. I can’t escape because I’ll never be free.
However, I can send my mother and Emily far away. To a place where they will be safe. If these men can’t get my family, they can’t hurt me. The greatest pain they can deliver would be to hurt my mother or Emily. My life means nothing, especially if I have to live it without them.
Mom stirs and opens her eyes. When she sees me, she smiles, but it is quickly replaced with a look of fear as she sits up and looks at the doorway.
I stand and face Radcliffe. “Can I take her home now? She’s sick. And you don’t need her.”
He smiles, but his eyes never light up. “Ah, Sienna, surely you know me better than that by now. I’ve already told you, your mother serves as insurance to make sure you complete your end of the deal.” He leans in close, and I almost gag on the staleness of his breath. “When Harlow Ryder is dead, your mother may return home.”
My fists clench and unclench. Before I can stop myself, I lunge at him, my fingernails searching, clawing for any bit of skin they can find. They connect with his face, the skin scraping beneath my nails as I carve long marks down his cheeks.
His hand comes full force across my face, knocking me to the ground. Hot, white pain radiates across my cheek, and I gasp for air. I reach for my mother, who screams from her corner, but all I grab is concrete. My hands scrape across the ground as Radcliffe lifts my legs and drags me from the cell.
Without my blindfold, I see it all. A cell block. Filled with prisoners.
My guess is that these are all people who have gotten on Radcliffe’s bad side. And I know if I’m not careful, I’ll be here too. And Emily will be motherless. Sisterless. And homeless.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The blindfold is forced back over my eyes, and the goons lead me to the SUV while Radcliffe tends to his wounds. It gives me a significant amount of satisfaction to know I caused him pain and possible scarring. I wish my aim had been a little higher. It would make my day to gouge out his eyes.
I pay careful attention to every detail I hear and everything I smell. The plop-plop of dripping water. From a pipe perhaps? The faint echo as my feet slide over concrete flooring, and the grainy shuffle of dirt moving with my feet. Too much dirt to be a main level floor. From the damp, musty smell, I get the impression we’re underground.
The inside of the SUV reeks of hamburgers and onions. After a few seconds, my body tilts like we’re driving up a steep incline or a ramp. When we reach the top, more light filters in behind the blindfold. Sunlight. I think I’m right. They must have taken me to their underground bunker. Now if I can only figure out where…
We drive for about twenty minutes, the sun warming the left side of my body through the window. Based on the position of the sun in these early morning hours, I assume we’re driving south.
They drop me off somewhere in the desert. As I struggle to remove the blindfold, the car pulls away. I cry out in frustration, dirt and dust filling my mouth and nostrils. They can’t leave me alone is this God-forsaken wasteland!
But as I glance around the barren landscape, I realize my bike rests beside the undergrowth. I don’t know how it got there or why they left it for me, but I don’t intend to question this one small token of generosity.
The burn on my leg sears beneath the bandage when I place it next to the exhaust pipe, and I squeeze my eyes shut in pain, every muscle throbbing, every bone aching. I want to go home. I need to see Emily.
When I pull up to my house, a sob chokes the back of my throat. I slide off my bike and stumble toward the front door. I’m halfway across the yard when I notice the sleek silver car parked on the dirt road in front of our trailer, as if it were accidentally driven to the wrong side of town.
Zane steps out, and I am horrified. I glance down at my dirt-stained pants, bloodstained top, burned leg, and raw hands. I want to run inside and lock the door. Instead, I straighten up, wipe a palm across my sweaty face, and wait.
He walks toward me, and my heart pounds. Why do I feel sick to my stomach every time I see him? Like I might hurl at any moment?
“Sienna.” He says my name like it’s the sweetest thing in the world. It rolls off his tongue like butter and honey combined.
I’m tired. I’m drained. I’
m scared. But seeing Zane gives me an unexpected surge of energy, and as he walks toward me, I think, It will all be okay.
He has a huge grin on his face, but as he draws closer, the grin fades. His eyebrows knit together, and he stares at me. “What happened?” He’s by my side before I have a chance to speak. He touches my face, my arms, and my hair. Each place he touches is like an electrical fire burning my skin. I collapse, and he catches me, drawing me to him. My head fits perfectly against his chest, and I breathe him in, an earthy, cedar mixture.
The dam bursts and the tears flow. I’m tired of being strong. I’m sick of proving myself.
Zane strokes my hair and kisses my forehead, his lips warm against my hot skin. My whole body longs for more, for his kisses to rain down on me. But instead, he lifts me gently and carries me into the trailer, placing me on the sofa. I want him next to me, but he moves to the kitchen.
Reality check, Sienna. He’s engaged.
I wipe the tears from my face as he returns with a wet rag. He sits next to me, and my heart thunders. With careful, steady hands, he wipes the dirt from my arms and cleans the cuts on my hands and face. His touch is gentle. I close my eyes and allow myself to be taken care of for the first time since my dad died.
Neither of us speaks, even when he returns to the kitchen to rewet and wring out the rag. He’s calm and silent, but I know he has questions. Lots of them. But he’s saving them—for the right time.
His hands lightly touch my cheek where Radcliffe struck me. I’m sure it’s a bruise by now. His eyes question me, but his lips don’t move.
When he’s cleaned off the last drop of dried blood, Zane returns the rag to the kitchen and brings back a cup of water. Wordlessly, he hands it to me, and I drink. He stares at me. Once I’ve set the cup on the coffee table, he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving my face.
“What. Happened.” His voice is quiet, controlled, and the words are more of a statement than a question.
I don’t know what to say. I liked the silence more than his questioning eyes.
“I… had an accident. On my bike.”
His eyes narrow. “The bike you rode home? It looked fine to me.” He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. His gaze is unsettling. “Who hurt you?”
My voice catches in my throat. “Please. Don’t ask me.”
He reaches for my hand, and a volt of electricity surges through my fingertips. Can he feel it too?
“Sienna, I want to help you. Please. Let me.” His eyes are pained.
But why should he care? Pretty soon, he’ll have the perfect genetically modified family—a model for the world. Why should he care about trailer-park trash?
As if reading my mind, he speaks again. “I care about you. More than I should. More than an engaged man has a right to. If there’s anything I can do to help, please tell me.”
I shake my head. That action causes a dull ache to climb from the back of my head and spread to my temples.
“Is it…?” He pauses as he struggles for the words. Swallowing hard, he continues. “Is it a boyfriend? Did he do this to you?”
The absurdity of the question produces a bubble of laughter to burst out. A boyfriend? Ha! I wish I were dealing with some lame boyfriend instead of the kingpin of the government hierarchy. I clamp my hand over my mouth when I see the hurt in Zane’s eyes.
“I’m sorry. No, it’s not a boyfriend.”
A soft knock on the door saves me from his questioning gaze. I hurry to get up and go to it, knowing who it is before I even fling it open. Emily. And Mrs. Locke.
Fresh tears fill my eyes as I grab Emily and pull her into my arms. I squeeze her as if at any moment, she might disappear. I kiss her button nose, her wiry curls, and her soft cheek before setting her on the ground.
“Si-Si, who’s that?” Emily asks, pointing to Zane.
“His name is Zane. Why don’t you go over and say hi while I talk to Mrs. Locke?”
I watch her run over to Zane and place her small hands on his knees before I focus my attention on our neighbor. “Thank you for watching her, Mrs. Locke. I hope she wasn’t any trouble for you.” I’m glad the elderly woman has bad eyesight and doesn’t notice the bruise on my face.
Mrs. Locke smiles, showing off a stained set of false teeth. “No trouble at all. She was an angel, as always. If you need me any more while your mother is out of town, you know where to find me.”
I glance over at Zane, who has Emily in his lap and is lightly tickling her. Emily giggles and swats at his hands. I smile and turn back to Mrs. Locke. “I appreciate the offer.”
She leans close and lowers her voice. “What a nice young man. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Something like that.”
Mrs. Locke gives me a knowing look. “Well, don’t let that one get away.”
Smiling, I decide it’s best not to correct her. I can’t let something I don’t have get away.
Mrs. Locke turns to leave and waves to Emily. “Bye, dear.”
Emily waves and resumes playing with Zane, who is now hiding a small toy in one hand and making her guess which hand it’s in.
Once Mrs. Locke is gone, I shut the door and lean against it, studying Zane with Emily.
When he sees me staring at him, he flashes a sheepish grin. “I’ve always liked kids.”
“You would be a great big brother.” I sink onto the couch next to him, and he turns serious.
“I overheard you and your neighbor. Your mom is out of town?” Emily pats his face and lies back in his arms.
Pursing my lips together, I shake my head a little. “Emily, why don’t you run and get Mr. Bear to show to our friend Zane? I’m sure he’d love to meet him.”
Emily’s face lights up, and she scrambles out of his arms. “Be right back!”
When she’s out of earshot, I say, “My mother was abducted. I know who has her, but…”
“Is it the same person who did this?” His fingers touch my face again, and I flinch, not because it hurts, but because of the warmth that spreads every time he touches me.
I hesitate, my eyes shifting to the threadbare carpet. “Yes.”
“But what?” His fingers slide to my chin, gently lifting it. My eyes connect with his, and I want to tell him everything. I want someone to know. Maybe if he knows, I can find a way out of this mess.
I want to tell him… but I don’t.
“I have to do something to get her back.”
“What?” His eyes cloud over.
Seduce you. Break up your engagement. Kill your father… Take your pick.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Fair enough. Can I do anything?”
My mind flits to Emily. With Radcliffe out there somewhere plotting his next move, she’s in danger. And truthfully, I can’t protect her. What is one girl compared to an entire entourage of soldiers at Radcliffe’s disposal?
“I’m worried about Emily,” I say, my voice soft.
Not even two heartbeats pass before Zane pipes up, “Why don’t you both come to my house? Obviously, I don’t know what’s going on, but at least you’ll be safe there.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I have to find my mother.” If he had asked me yesterday, I might have jumped at the chance to get closer to Harlow Ryder, but now, there’s no way I’m going through with the whole murder thing. Radcliffe will have to find himself another scapegoat. “I just need to figure out what to do with Emily.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll take her.”
“That’s sweet of you to offer, but what do you know about taking care of a child?”
“I won’t be alone, you know. Greta, our housekeeper, practically raised me, and I know she’d be willing to help. Then there’s Arian. I’m sure she’s good with kids.”
Hearing Arian’s name is like a knife through the stomach. Of course she’s good with kids. She’s beautiful and perfect and good at everything. You lucky son-of-a-gun.
&
nbsp; My lips turn up into a tight-lipped smile. “It’s too much to ask, and I barely know you—”
“I’ll take her.” He says it like there’s no more room for discussion.
“What would you tell your father? Or Arian?”
He shrugs. “I’ll think of something.”
“I might be off the grid for a while,” I warn him.
“That’s okay.”
“And she’s not always as sweet as she appears to be.” Not exactly true, but I want him to be willing to take the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Zane grins. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
When Emily runs back into the room a moment later with one hand clutching Mr. Bear, I pull her onto my lap and explain that she’ll be staying with Zane and his family for a while.
“Are you coming, Si-Si?”
I hug her tight and whisper in her ear. “No, sweetie. I have to work, but we’ll be together again real soon.”
“But I want you to come,” she whines.
“I know. But it’s only for a few days. Okay?”
Her bottom lip sticks out in a pout, but she nods, her curls bouncing.
“Do you want to help me pack a bag?”
She slides off my lap and runs back to her room, and Mr. Bear is left forgotten on the couch.
Before I have a chance to stand, Zane covers my hand with his. Warmth spreads up my arm. His eyes are dark. And worried.
“Let me help you. Please. I can find your mother. I have money. And connections.”
I know the connections he has. Money always equals connections. A small voice gnaws at the back of my brain, reminding me of Radcliffe’s words. Seduce the pants off his genetically modified son.
No. I won’t do it. I may now be a liar, a thief, and a cheat, but there are two things I’m not. I am not a murderer. And I am not a tramp. I cannot allow myself to get any closer to Zane than I already am.
I force a smile. “Thank you for offering, but this is something I have to do on my own.”
Catalyst Page 9
