Designed to Love (29 page)

"Now the first assignment should be fairly
simple for the group," the honeyed voice of our British tyrant
resumes, after we all witness a thirty second clip of Chord
McCullough being whipped.

"Holy shit!" Natalie breathes, looking like
she might bolt at any minute. I wasn't sure, given what was at
stake, that I could easily let her walk away now. Thankfully, I
don't have to make that choice yet—she is as riveted to the tape as
the rest of us.

"The keystone pipeline running from Canada
to the refineries in Texas is under construction and is seven-five
percent complete. You will destroy it, along with the Bakken oil
fields in North Dakota by the end of this week. It shouldn't be too
hard considering that you were able to induce a 7.8 magnitude
earthquake in Montana. I'm not opposed to casualties, in fact I
expect some given the magnitude of damage that the area will incur.
The sooner you complete this assignment the jollier of a mood I
will be in when I meet with Cataryn," he says, before pausing. "She
really is quite lovely isn't she, Ronan?" he ends the video by
saying in a taunting voice. The hiss and growling sound departing
from my mouth must sound animalistic because Natalie looks at me
nervously, and slowly backs away.

CAT

"I still can't believe that you spoke to him
like that. No one speaks to Zane in that manner," Sophia says,
shaking her head in disbelief. We are in the bathroom, and she is
curling my hair in preparation for my meeting tonight. For some
reason, she thinks it's important that I present myself looking my
best and for lack of anything better to do with my time, I allow
her to fuss over my appearance. When she presents me with a package
delivered to the apartment while I was in the shower, I open it
with trepidation.

"He has this weird fetish about being
formally dressed for dinner," she says, as I hold up the
calf-length, formfitting cocktail dress, making an ugly face.

"Does he just keep a closet full of women's
clothes conveniently ready to disperse to his captives? And by the
way, how did he know my size?" I demand, looking at her for answers
and becoming suspicious when she looks away guiltily.

"Sophia, why do you work for him?" I finally
blurt out, silently criticizing her judgment. She pauses for a
moment, seriously considering my question and her response takes me
by surprise.

"Believe it or not Cat, most of the time
Zane is decent to me. This is the first time that he's ever asked
me to participate in something I'm not comfortable with, and he's
only hurt me one other time."

"Sophia, did you stop to think that the
reason you're not comfortable with this is because you are
committing a very serious crime? What do you think will happen when
Zane is caught, which he will be, and everyone that is involved in
this little scheme is hauled off to jail?" I say raising my voice
at her.

I can see a hint of fear in her eyes but she
steadily holds my gaze when she replies. "You're not the only one
who has family members' lives at stake, Cat. And besides, Zane gave
me the option of being reassigned, but when I found out whom he was
going to send as your attendant, I couldn't allow it, so that's why
I am here," she says quietly, shrugging her shoulders.

***

The last thing I want to do is get Sophia in
trouble with Zane for not cooperating with his requests, but there
is no way in hell I am wearing the formfitting black cocktail dress
to this dinner meeting.

"I couldn't give a crap about how he dresses
for dinner," I say, rolling the dress up in a ball and tossing it
across the room. She has a look of disapproval as she watches me
tie my dirty sneakers, and tuck the crisp white blouse she lent me
into my blue jeans. Of course, I have other reasons for not wearing
the dress. I wasn't sure where I was being taken to meet with Zane,
but if the opportunity arose for an escape, I was going to be as
ready as possible. I grab my jacket and stuff the other half of my
uneaten sandwich from lunch into the pocket.

"Don't be afraid, Cat. If you do as he says,
I don't think he'll hurt you," she whispers, unwittingly
undermining my self-confidence. It is 4:25 and Sophia is standing
there holding the jet black blindfold which she ties snugly around
my eyes, and the room goes pitch black. When I hear the key turn in
the lock and feel the rush of cold air down the stairs of the
bunker, I feel my whole body tremble, and my knees go weak. Sophia
tries to tell my escorts that I can be trusted not to remove my
blindfold, but they restrained my hands behind my back anyway. If
not for the steel grip on my arm, guiding me up the stairs and the
hard body supporting me from behind, I would probably have crumbled
in a heap on the stairwell.

The chill of the air feels good, but it is
short lived when I am silently forced into the back seat of a car
that has the heater blasting out warm air. I try hard to
concentrate on the number of turns we make which adds up to just
five in a matter of a few minutes, and then the car stops, and I am
escorted on a short walk to another location. Once again, I am
maneuvered into what feels like a large utility vehicle. It isn't
until I am strapped in a three point harness and a headset is
placed over my ears that I have the first inkling that I am being
transported by air to my final destination. When the aircraft takes
off flying what feels like vertical to the ground, it takes a
moment for my heart to catch up. The bunker and Sophia offered some
measure of security and predictability. Now, as I sit restrained in
the cold, rigid seat, engulfed in darkness and silence, my earlier
confidence is shattered. I miss Ronan more than ever, and I force
myself to swallow the hard lump forming at the base of my throat as
I try to establish a mental connection with him. It's my first time
out of the bunker since meeting with Zane and I am dying to hear
the sound of his voice again, even fantasizing that he's sitting in
the seat next to me. I know that speed and distance seem to play an
important factor in the Designer's being able to telepathically
communicate, so I don't get completely discouraged when he doesn't
connect.

***

Had I not been shown the video tape with our
family members, I would have come to the meeting with Zane tonight,
completely prepared to use my abilities to kill him and escape.
Instead, I find myself contemplating Lawrence's last words to me.
In order to have any influence over Zane, you
need to be around him as much as possible. You need to maintain
emotional control at all times. Fear, anger, doubt, and hatred will
decrease your energy. You must always maintain a state of higher
energy when trying to influence him. Remember, you were genetically
modified with an open circuit between your conscious and
subconscious mind, which gives your thoughts and emotions
extraordinary power above and beyond that of a non-modified human.
Use that power to the good, and you will always have
it.

Lawrence had faith that I had the genetic
makeup needed to change Zane from a heinous, gray color screening
to a yellow or even white. I was beginning to wonder if I had any
other choice but to try.

***

No matter how hard I try to get my two
traveling companions to cooperate, they refuse to take my blindfold
off before handing me over to Zane. I reassure myself that had I
been able to actually see the energy fields, I would have been
successful in influencing their thoughts. Now I am being escorted
with a hand on each arm up a set of steps, which leaves the men
accompanying me breathing hard by the time we get to the top. It is
hard to glean much in the way of clues with a blindfold on, but
nonetheless I tuck a few observations away for future analysis: an
hour flight in a jet could take a person up to two to three hundred
miles away, landing strip is within walking distance of our
destination, and the ground is cold and wet.

The soft squeak of a door, followed by a
rush of warm air, signals that we've reached our destination. "Ah,
thank you gentleman I will take it from here," I hear Zane's soft,
aristocratic voice tell the two, as he leads me by the arm inside.
A moment later, the door closes behind us, and I feel Zane's hands
fumbling with the restraints on my wrists.

"Was it really necessary to keep me
blindfolded and restrained the whole way?" I ask as he releases the
tie behind my head.

"Actually it might be a little overkill, but
until I know the extent of your sister's abilities, I don't want to
take any chances," he says.

I turn to face him blinking against the
insult of bright lights that temporarily blind me. True to Sophie's
word, he is formally dressed in a black dinner jacket with matching
trousers, a white formal shirt, with a black silk bow tie and black
patent leather oxford shoes. I am momentarily distracted by his
appearance and for the briefest second, regret not wearing the
formal dress he sent to me. We are standing in a large foyer with
white marble floors that feature a huge gold and black medallion
inlay. A grand staircase looms directly ahead of us and a set of
marble pillars frame hallways on either side of it.

"So, you really do dress for dinner," I
mumble, trying not to gawk at him or my surroundings.

He smirks and raises an eyebrow as he
glances down at my attire.

"Yes, I really do dress for dinner and...
apparently you don't," he quips disapprovingly.

"I'm not here to impress you. Tell me what
you want with me and my sister. I want to go home," I say
flatly.

His gray blue eyes seem to dance with
amusement, and he tilts his head to one side. "I never discuss
business on an empty stomach Cataryn, and I spent a good deal of
time preparing our meal, so shall we?" he asks, bending his arm and
tilting his elbow toward me as he offers me his arm in a
gentlemanly manner that seems completely natural for him. With a
blue color screening, the guy is sure to lose his temper over
something, so reluctantly I hook my hand around his arm, allowing
him to escort me up the stairs. The minute my arm touches his, a
pageantry of orange flecks highlights his previously solid blue
color screening, startling me enough to cause me to stop and
stare.

"Is there something wrong?" he asks, looking
down at me quizzically.

"Besides the fact that you've kidnapped my
family and are holding me against my will..." I murmur, slowly
withdrawing my arm from his as I take a step back and watch his
color revert back to solid blue. Before he can respond, I
hesitantly, place my hand back on his arm and unintentionally
whisper, "Interesting," when his aura lights up with orange once
again.

"What's interesting?" he asks
impatiently.

"Oh, um—this place," I reply, quickly
looking away, showing interest in the eclectic display of art work.
To my relief, he feels compelled to give me a history lesson on
each piece as we ascend the grand staircase.

"The dining room is this way," he says,
motioning me through a set of heavy wooden double doors at the
top.

"Are we in a hotel?" I ask, looking around
the room that has a bar on one side and five round tables with
white lace table cloths on the other.

"It was at one time. Please, have a seat,"
he says, pulling one of the chairs out for me, and then pouring me
a glass of water from the pitcher on the table.

"I'll be right back," he calls over his
shoulder before disappearing through the door near the bar. Moments
later he returns carrying a tray full of food which he carefully
places on a nearby table, and unloads several serving dishes with
silver plated dome covers. One by one, he removes the covers,
revealing an impressive array of perfectly garnished gourmet
dishes. Right on cue my stomach rumbles with hunger pangs, and he
looks over at me and grins.

"I'm glad you brought your appetite, I hate
to see food go to waste," he says, taking a seat opposite of
me.

"I'm not sure what your motives are for all
of this Zane, but can you please just skip the niceties and tell me
why I'm here."

Ignoring me he says, "Let's see, here we
have a Bombay chicken pasta and this is a strawberry salad with a
balsamic vinaigrette. If you're not in the mood for strawberries, I
also made a roasted pear and fig salad with a honey-pear
vinaigrette. Would you like me to serve you?" he asks, already
reaching for my plate.

"Go for it," I reply.
Have it your way, you lunatic. It's time for me to get down
to business anyway, but first things first,
I think to
myself.

"May I use the restroom?"

"There's one off the kitchen," he says,
pointing to the double doors.

The large restaurant style kitchen is full
of lethal weapons, and I stand there for a minute picturing myself
launching butcher knives into his chest. I shiver in
response
.
I despised the guy
but...

Making my way around two very large
stainless steel prep islands, I find the small bathroom and quickly
lock myself in.

"Ronan—I'm out of the
bunker. Can you hear me?"
I wait and listen with my eyes
squeezed closed, trying to ignore Zane clanking pans in the
kitchen. Seconds seem like hours as I wait for his response, and
when I hear it, I almost squeal with joy.

"Oh Cat. You can't
imagine how much I needed to hear your voice. Are you are outside
the bunker? I'll remote travel there now,"
he says,
anxiously.

"No Ronan. I was
transferred in an airplane to Zane's house."

"Zane who?"
he asks with a noticeably different demeanor.

"Zane Harrington. He's the
one that kidnapped me from the Great Falls airport. Did you get the
video?"