Catalyst

by Kristin Smith

  I choke back a sob as his arms encircle my back, pulling me to him. Then the dam breaks loose. I sob into his bare skin, my tears mingling with the water droplets from his hair that drip and run down his body. I don’t know why I’m crying. Maybe a few tears escape for my dead father, a few fall for my missing mother, and I suppose, some drop for the loss of my own innocence.

  When the tears finally run dry, I wipe my face and sit up. I’m sure I look a mess. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, avoiding Zane’s eyes.

  I feel his thumb lightly trace my cheekbone, and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. His hands cup my chin and pull my face toward his. Heart pounding, my eyes open.

  “Sienna,” he says, his voice thick. I love it when he says my name, as if it’s the most beautiful word in the world, one he rolls around on his tongue and wants to taste over and over again.

  His lips touch mine, so lightly, so gentle that it’s more of a tease than a kiss. His mouth moves into a smile when I don’t push him away. When he leans in again, our lips melt together. His lips are smooth and full and he tastes like mint. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it doesn’t matter because our bodies seem to know exactly what to do. He moves to my jaw, my chin, and my cheek, while an ache spreads in my belly. I don’t want it to end. Ever. When he pulls away, I know I have to tell him the truth. All of it.

  “Zane,” I whisper. “I have to tell you something.”

  He strokes my face with his fingers and pulls my chin closer. “Shh, it can wait. Right now, this is what matters.” He kisses me again, deeper, more passionate. My hands wrap around his neck. My fingers pull through his hair and skim his neckline. His hands move to the small of my back, pressing me firmly to him. When his fingers run along the side of my waist, they cause the fire in my belly to spread deeper.

  When we do pull away, my cheeks are flaming from both excitement and embarrassment. I place my hands on either side of my face to cool my steaming cheeks. Zane smiles before growing serious. He leans forward and stares at me. “Sienna, let me help you.”

  I start to protest, but he places his finger over my lips.

  “I won’t take no for an answer. Let me do this my way. No guns. No fighting. No deaths. I promise I can have your mom in your arms in less than a week.”

  I swallow hard. How can he make that kind of promise? He has no idea the kind of men we’re dealing with. “These men are dangerous and crooked. They won’t care that you have money.”

  “You say they work for the government?”

  I nod. “Radcliffe, the man who took my mom, says he’s head of the AIG.”

  “Then I already have him in my pocket.”

  My forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “For years, the AIG branch of government has tried to gain access to our company. And I have some bait of my own I can use to get what I want. And what I want is your mother freed and you left alone.”

  It might work. It just might work.

  Hope fills me like birds taking flight. I smile and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. “Thank you,” I murmur.

  “Am I interrupting something?” a cold voice speaks from the doorway.

  I jump back, almost falling off the couch, as my guilty eyes connect with those of Steele Ryder.

  “Zane?” Steele cocks his head and waits for an explanation.

  Zane stands and takes a defensive stance, legs shoulder-width apart, shoulders squared. “Yeah, Steele, you are. Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

  The two men stare at each other, and I sit perfectly still. Whatever is going on between them extends deeper than Zane caught with a girl other than his fiancée.

  “Think about what you’re doing, Zane. You’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life,” Steele warns before striding away.

  Zane lets out a whoosh of air and sinks back onto the couch beside me. “Sorry about that.”

  “He’s very interested in your life, isn’t he?”

  “Because he’s twenty years older than I am, he’s been more like a second father than a brother. He only wants what’s best for me, but his approach is a little rough.”

  I think back to the words Steele said. Biggest mistake of your life. That’s me. I’m the biggest mistake. Knowing that doesn’t exactly bring warm fuzzies.

  I decide to drive Steele’s point home. “So, when is your wedding?” A knot forms in my stomach as I say the words. We may have kissed, but he’s engaged. To someone else. A kiss doesn’t change that.

  Zane frowns. I can tell he doesn’t like me bringing up the obvious. “In a few months?”

  “You have everything picked out? Invitations, flowers, cake… house?” I put emphasis on the last word so he realizes this isn’t a game. He’s about to start a life with someone else. He’ll have perfect GM babies and kiss his GM wife before he leaves for work every day.

  Zane nods, his eyes dark. “I think Arian is taking care of those things. Except the house part,” he quickly adds.

  I need to turn and pull the dagger from my heart, but instead, I force a smile. “Sounds lovely,” I say, not even trying to hide my sarcasm. I stand quickly before I say something else I’ll regret. “I should go.” Avoiding his eyes, I focus on the coffee table. “Are you okay to keep Emily for a few more days?”

  “Of course. And I’ll work on gaining access to your mother.” He pauses. “Sienna?”

  I’m forced to look into his eyes, those warm, brown, genetically modified eyes. I don’t stand a chance.

  “Stay safe, okay?” He moves toward me and pulls me into his arms. I don’t understand what he’s doing. He’s playing with my heart, with my emotions, and I don’t like it one bit. “For me? Please stay safe.”

  I lean out of his embrace. “Sure I will. For Emily and my mom.”

  “Hey, don’t be like that.” His eyes search mine. “Things are complicated for me right now.”

  “Me too,” I reply.

  His arms drop, and he moves to the foyer. “You probably want to say goodbye to Emily before you leave? I imagine they’re in the kitchen. It’s right this way if you want to follow me.” He sounds distant, not at all like the guy I was just making out with on his living room couch—half-naked, mind you.

  He leads me down a hallway of pictures; pictures of Zane as a baby, a wide grin on his face; pictures of Harlow, his wife, and Steele before Zane was born; pictures of Zane and his father. But never a picture of Zane and his mother. I peer at a picture of the mother he never knew. She’s beautiful, her long, dark hair framing her face and her wide blue eyes that crinkle as she smiles. She looks oddly familiar…

  I gasp in recognition. The woman from the picture of my father. My father before he changed his name and identity.

  My father knew Zane’s mother?

  “Your mother’s name was Penelope?”

  Zane nods. “That’s why my dad created Chromo 120.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Why?”

  “To stop the genetic spread of imperfect genes. He often says if he had only lived a lifetime ago, he could have saved my mother.”

  “How did she die?”

  “During childbirth, but it was because of a medical condition she’d struggled with for years.”

  I hesitate, wondering if I should confide in Zane what I learned about my father and his mother. I’m about to, but fear that he might say something to Harlow stops me. “She was beautiful,” I say instead.

  “Yeah, she was,” he says, his voice soft. “I wish she could be at my wedding and be there to hold my first child…” He trails off.

  Even though I realize he’s sharing something very personal about his mother, his words sting, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I know those significant moments in his life will belong to Arian.

  Zane leads me around a corner and through the back entrance of a brightly lit gourmet kitchen. Emily stands on a wooden stool next to Greta, carefully rolling out the crust on the large, butcher-block i
sland that fills the center of the oversized kitchen. I run my hand over the smooth stone surface of the adjacent countertops. The last time I was in here, I was trying to poison Zane’s father.

  “Look, Si-Si, look what I made,” Emily squeals, pointing to the crust.

  “She has been such a good helper.” Greta winks at me. “This is actually our second pie crust. The first is already in the oven.”

  “Si-Si, do you want to try my pie?”

  I lift Emily off the stool and into my arms. “I need to go, Em.”

  “Where are you going? Why can’t you stay longer? Don’t you want to try the pie I made?” She hurls questions at me like a firing squad.

  Zane clears his throat. “Emily has a point. There’s no need for you to rush off when there’s one of Greta’s pies in the oven.” He winks at me. “I happen to know she makes the best pies.”

  Greta pats the counter and nods to one of the barstools. “Take a seat, dear. The strawberry pie will be out of the oven in five minutes and then it will just need a few minutes to cool down.” She glances up at Zane. “Zane, do you think you can help whip up the meringue for the second pie?”

  Zane looks down at his bathing suit-clad body. “Let me throw on a shirt first.” He dashes out of the room.

  “What kind of pie are you making now?” I ask.

  “Key lime with a meringue topping. It’s my favorite.”

  “It sounds delish.”

  “Zane has always been my helper,” Greta confides, her eyes glazing over in admiration. “Ever since he was a small boy, he would come into the kitchen and watch me cook. When he was old enough, he started helping me prepare the meals.” She wipes her hands on her apron and moves to the fridge, pulling out the eggs. As she sets them on the counter, her eyes meet mine. “Zane is like a son to me. His mother and I were friends back in school. When I heard about her death, I came to Harlow and offered to help. And here I am, twenty-one years later.”

  “Did you ever have a family of your own?”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “No. Harlow has offered many times to find my genetic match, but I’m content with the life I have.”

  Something she said sends a trigger to my brain. She knew Penelope in school… Perhaps she knew my father as well. “Did you by chance know a man named Mitch Hoover?”

  Greta’s eyes widen in surprise. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “He was an old friend of my dad’s,” I lie.

  “I knew him very well. He and Penelope were friends for years. She’s the one who helped him get a job as the geneticist in Harlow’s company.” She purses her lips. “Such a sad accident that man was in. Can you imagine having a seizure while you’re driving?” Leaning forward, she says, “You know, this is between you and me, but I’ve always wondered if somehow Mitch blamed himself for Penelope’s death. It just seems ironic that he would drive his car off a cliff only days after Penelope died.”

  My heart stops beating for a moment. “He… uh… drove his car off a cliff?”

  “Yeah, saddest thing. It was said he had a seizure and lost control. But I’ve always wondered if it was suicide and not a seizure at all.” She straightens up. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  My father faked his own death. That must be what the Devil meant when he said he helped my father find a different venue.

  My mind reels as Zane enters the room wearing a red Cybertronics T-shirt and his still-damp bathing suit.

  Greta puts him to work cracking eggs and whipping egg whites, while I watch from my perch on the bar stool, trying to ingest what she shared with me. My father and Penelope were friends, and he faked his death and changed his identity only days after she died. Why?

  My eyes focus on the pie making in front of me. I’m entertained by the way Greta and Zane tease and joke with one another. Even Emily is part of the teasing. And as I watch, I don’t feel left out, just the opposite actually. I feel a part of something truly wonderful. A family. A functional one. It reminds me so much of how my family used to be before my father was murdered, my mother got sick, and I got caught up in all this mess. An ache spreads through my chest, but I swallow hard and force the pity from my mind.

  “Greta, I think these egg whites are about as stiff as they’re going to get,” Zane says, eyeing the bowl. “I know you said something about soft peaks, but if I wait any longer, I’ll grow my own mountain range.”

  I hop off the stool to take a look. Greta told Zane the meringue would be ready when soft peaks formed. I peer into the bowl. “Yep, it’s done.”

  Zane rolls his eyes. “You say that like you’re a meringue expert.”

  I place my hands on my hips. “Maybe I am.”

  Zane grins. “If you’re such an expert, why don’t you taste it and tell me if it’s ready?” He reaches in and scoops up some with his finger. I lean back, not sure how I feel about sucking meringue off his finger. But that’s not his intention.

  He spreads the meringue down my nose and laughs. My eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in determination. I stick my hand in and scoop up a handful as Zane’s smile fades from his face.

  “You wouldn’t,” he says.

  I smear the meringue all over his face, laughing hysterically.

  Emily squeals with laughter, and Greta chastises in a gentle tone. “All right, you two, there won’t be any left for the pie.”

  Zane reaches out to grab me, but he stops when his eyes connect with something behind the island. I turn and my heart skips a beat.

  Arian.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. Henry let me in and said you were in the kitchen,” Arian says, her smile hesitant.

  Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem upset that Zane is hanging out with another girl. She doesn’t seem to care that Zane has meringue all over his face. Is this an act or is she really this nice?

  When her eyes rest on me, she gives me a warm smile. “You must be Sienna.”

  She holds out a carefully manicured hand, and I want to sink into the floor. I lean forward and shake her delicate hand. Hands that have probably never washed a dish in her life. Zane hands me a towel to wipe my face and moves forward to kiss his fiancée on the cheek.

  “Did I forget about an appointment?” he murmurs.

  Arian laughs, and I get a glimpse of her blindingly white teeth. “No. Steele called to remind me about the super sale at Nelly’s Catering-and-Things, and I stopped by to see if you want to go.”

  Steele. Of course.

  Zane’s eyes flit to me for a small moment, and it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. This is my cue to leave.

  “I was just leaving, so—” I place the towel on the counter.

  “But I just got here,” Arian replies, pouting. “And I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

  My jaw clenches as I stare at Arian. I wonder what Zane told her about me. Why does she think Emily is staying here? I find it hard to believe she doesn’t have one jealous bone in her body. Would she care to know that only moments earlier, I was kissing her soon-to-be hubby?

  “And Si-Si, you haven’t had any pie yet,” Emily whines.

  “I can remedy that,” Greta croons. Like a silent cooking ninja, she’s already dished the strawberry pie onto melamine plates and now hands one to each of us, saving the last piece for Emily. Zane settles onto a bar stool next to Arian and I lean against the counter, ready to make a quick escape.

  “So, Sienna,” Arian says, “Zane tells me you’re an undercover reporter working on an assignment outside Rubex.”

  This is news to me. I raise my eyebrows. “He did?”

  “How’s it going over there? I hear there’s a lot of anger from that radical group the Fringe.”

  Zane averts his eyes, and now I know. He’s just as good at lying as I am.

  I smile and try to compose myself. “It’s crazy. Members of the Fringe are restless, as always.” I decide to add a little pro-Fringe propaganda into this conversation. “It’s interesting, th
ough. I’m finding that the Fringe is a very misunderstood group of people.”

  Zane chokes on his pie, but I continue unscathed. “It’s true. There have been several attacks in the past few months blamed on them, and yet, they’re innocent. I’ve had the opportunity to get really close to their leader.” I wink at Arian. “I mean, really close. And he swears they’re being set up.”

  I feel Zane’s eyes on me, but I focus on taking a big bite of my pie.

  “I had no idea,” Arian says, her beautiful face twisting in surprise.

  “Neither did I, not until I met them and talked with their leader.” I shrug. “They’re actually good people who are just trying to better society.”

  “Well, your article will be an eye opener for all of us then,” Arian says, lifting her fork to take a bite of pie.

  “It’s important to get the truth out there,” I say blatantly, looking directly at Zane.

  Arian doesn’t notice. She’s too busy stabbing a strawberry and delicately placing it into her heart-shaped mouth.

  I continue eating my pie and even finish off Emily’s when she hands it to me after saying she’s full.

  When it seems socially acceptable to make my escape, I politely excuse myself and say goodbye to Emily. Even though I don’t want to leave her, based on Zane’s promise, I know it will only be a few short days until we’re together again.

  Zane offers to walk me to the door, and even though my eyes shift uncomfortably to Arian, she seems fine with it. I say good-bye to Arian and thank Greta for the pie, before bending down to give Emily one last hug.

  “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  She nods.

  “Now go get some clothes on. You shouldn’t stay in that wet bathing suit all day.”

  Emily takes off running, her tiny feet pattering over the marble floors.

  Zane leads me to the front door and walks me out on the stoop, closing the door behind us.

  “Thanks again for watching Emily—”

  Zane stops me. “Did you mean what you said in the kitchen?”

  I draw a blank. “About what?”