Changed (Second Sight) (2 page)

“Oh,
god
,” she groaned.

He glided upward, deep inside her, as she arched wildly to accept him. The hot glide of flesh on flesh seared into her as her body shuddered and twitched and her pelvis jerked at the penetration. Mac’s fingers pressed deeply into her sensitive spot and quickly circled. Pulsating waves of need burst in her abdomen and Isabelle couldn’t lie still. Her hand flew to his hip, she intertwined her legs with his, and her pelvis bucked violently backward.

Mac’s hips met hers with a gyrating thud and the hard length of him plunged into her core. The stiff flesh was like a rod, pushing at her walls, moving so deeply that her other hand clutched her abdomen. A deep shuddering erupted in her core, then quickly rippled outward until her entire body began to quake. Mac’s hips reared back against the pull of her hand but as he reversed direction, he tugged at her mound. His fingers ground on her sweet spot as he plunged upward yet again. The vibrating, gyrating collision sent a quivering jolt through her. His already distended flesh quickly swelled within her as she frantically tried to move her hips in time to his. But as he pounded upward again and yet again, and his fingers kneaded her aching mound, her sensitive spot throbbed in near pain. Suddenly, Isabelle felt a strong, familiar sensation begin to claim her. As Mac softly grunted against her neck, his hand feverishly fueled the burning in her mound. Like a tidal wave had suddenly been unleashed, Isabelle’s body erupted in a chain of convulsions completely beyond her control.

•••••

Mac felt Isabelle thrash in his grasp, her hips pulsating wildly, her back pressed hard into his chest. Her body throbbed around his arousal as he plunged deeper, his hand gripping her mound as though his life depended on keeping them connected. He thrust deeply, over and over, as her warm depths pulled on him, stroked him, and fed his desire to be completely inside. His hips flew into a primal rhythm, the tempo increasing, swelling him, plunging into her over and over.

Isabelle’s breath came in short, sharp gasps and Mac could barely pull in enough air. As though she stoked a fiery brand, molten heat speared upward through his stiff flesh, desperate to be quenched, and yet savoring the exquisite pain. But as Isabelle suddenly cried out and clenched on him, a frenzy of simultaneous explosions began.

His climax rocketed upward in a jarring, pulsing, beating of their bodies. Her hips shuddered and convulsed in turn as he erupted deep within her. He groaned at the sheer ecstasy of it as staccato spasms claimed his body. His pulsing life gushed into her with a rush of passion that robbed him of all sensations, except for her body accepting him and milking him for even more.

“Isabelle,” he whispered harshly, barely audible over her high-pitched moans.

Together they rode the wild waves of their release as she clamped down hard and he jerked within her. As their breathing turned to grunts and the pumping rhythm of their hips became erratic, a last, glorious peak shattered them both.

“
Mac
,” Isabelle cried out, as he groaned loudly with his final release.

Gradually, as their bodies spent themselves, the surging tide began to ebb.

Slowly, the rush of sensations retreated and deep relief took its place. Isabelle quieted in his arms and their labored breathing began to slow. Still inside her, Mac snuggled tightly, bringing his knees up under hers. Her arms hugged his, across her chest. And as a final sigh of completion escaped them both, a stillness and peace fell over them that Mac could have endured forever.

MAURICE WATCHED GEOFFREY pace as he crossed the lab yet again. It was amusing.

“I’m just saying,” Geoffrey said. “That we need to replace Daniel.”
 

He passed in front of the glass doors of the chromatography refrigeration units.

It’d be nice to take those
, thought Maurice.
Excellent temperature control.

“The queue is screwed up,” Geoffrey said, beginning a count on his thumb. “We need new photos,” he said, adding his index finger. “New posts in the Coming Home forum.” He showed his three fingers to Maurice. “That’s just for starters.”

Geoffrey passed the row of lab benches where the spores were germinating nicely. The Hall strain wasn’t the latest but it was deadly–
in the extreme
. In its pure form, only one microgram was fatal. If Geoffrey had any inkling at all, he wouldn’t even be in the room, let alone strutting in front of them. The glass flasks were lined up in order, although the different shades of brown also identified the various solution strengths. They were actually quite beautiful.

“Are you listening to me?” Geoffrey said.

Maurice tore his eyes away from the lab bench.

“Not really,” he said.

Geoffrey threw his hands in the air. For a moment, Maurice studied him, the public face of the Green Earth Commune.
 

I wonder
, he thought,
if
I’d
had all the plastic surgery and exercise, the capped teeth and the tanning booth, if I’d be as good looking. We do, after all, share the same genes.

Spoken like a true geneticist
, Maurice thought, as Geoffrey put his hands on his hips and glared at him.

Maurice took a deep breath. He didn’t really have time for this. He glanced at the flasks. There was still a lot to do, some of it real science.

“I’m worried!” Geoffrey said.

That
got Maurice’s attention. He stared at his brother.

“
You’re
worried,” Maurice said.

“You’re
not
?”

Maurice shrugged.

“I don’t
believe
this,” Geoffrey said. “What are we going to tell the couple who’ve already paid for Kayla’s baby? How are we going to sell the others? We
need
someone on that side of the business.”

Daniel had been quite the find. It’s not like they could advertise.

“Recruit another programmer,” Maurice finally said. “Recruitment is
your
department.”

“Well, it’s not that easy is it?”

Maurice had to grin. The shoe was on the other foot and the change felt good.

“I know,” Geoffrey said, snapping his fingers. He reversed direction and headed to the door. “I’ll post something on Facebook. The internet is
full
of programmers.”

Maurice shook his head and snickered under his breath.

“Just as along as you stay out of my way,” he muttered.

AS MAC DRIED the frying pan and stowed it below in the kitchen cabinet, Isabelle put the last plate in the dish rack to dry. They hadn’t exactly worked themselves into a routine yet. In fact, they were really just starting to learn about each other. He folded the dish towel and set it on the edge of the sink with a final pat.
 

The first week had been rough: the accidental readings, the Green Earth Commune, Kayla’s baby.

Kayla’s baby
, Mac thought.
How had Daniel thought he’d be able to sell it to Maurice?

And what about the Botox?

“I thought,” Isabelle said, “that we weren’t thinking about work.”

Though she still stood next to him at the sink, she’d turned her head to watch him.

“That’s right,” he said, nodding. She was dressed only in a white, terry cloth robe, her bare hands still wet. He moved behind her, slipping his arms around her middle. He’d thrown on a pair of FBI Academy shorts and a Behavioral Sciences t-shirt from his old unit. “We’re not.”

“Except we are,” she said, leaving her hands in the sink.

“No,” he said, dangerously close to her ear. “We’re
not
.”

Isabelle squirmed and pointedly leaned her head away from his.

“Oh my god,” she said, giggling a bit. “Do
not
start.”

Mac smiled to himself and stood up straighter.

But as his arms settled around Isabelle’s waist, his thoughts returned again to the Botox.

“Right,” Isabelle said, craning her head to look at him. “Tell me you’re not thinking of it.”

He grinned at her.

“Okay, I’m not thinking of it.”

She held up one hand, showing him her fingers.

“
Really?
” she said.
 

“Oh, you’d read me without my permission, would you?”

“Permission?” she said, smiling. “I didn’t think I needed
permission
to touch you.”

He hugged her closer.

“It depends,” he said, trying to nuzzle behind her ear.

“Why Botox?” she said quickly, leaning away.

“Here I’m trying to hug you–”

“Seriously, Mac,” Isabelle said, her smile fading. “Something’s wrong. I know it.” She looked into his eyes. “You know it too. I don’t have to read you to know that.”

He might have gazed into her amazing, amber eyes forever. But they were searching his and waiting for an answer. He took in a deep breath.

“All right,” he said, slowly letting her go. “What have we got?” As he stepped back, she turned around to face him. “You read Botox, an angry Maurice who wouldn’t buy Little Gavin, and some computer files.”

“Yes,” she said nodding, putting her hands into the pockets of the robe.

“We know that Botox is a drug used in cosmetic surgery. We have a commune where the cult leader is fathering children left and right. There’s a sycophantic tech guy who tries to sell them his own son. Hidden accounts. Identities that don’t go back more than seven years.” He paused, crossed his arms over his chest, and shook his head. “None of it fits together.”

There were simply too many unanswered questions–and too little data–the bane of any profiler.

Mac suddenly remembered Daniel’s computers. They’d been confiscated from his condo by the Cyber Crime division. Tim had discovered that the security firewalls protecting Daniel’s machines were the same as those protecting the commune.

“You saw computer files,” Mac said. Isabelle nodded. “I wonder where Tim is with that.”

•••••

While Mac called in to the FBI, Isabelle called Yolanda.
 

I should have called sooner.
 

Her older psychic friend had been right yet again. Daniel
had
been in Isabelle’s future. Though Yolanda had made it clear she wasn’t in favor of psychics and non-psychics together, she’d still done a crystal ball reading for Isabelle. And, true to her word, she’d kept anything she’d learned about Isabelle and Mac to herself.

Isabelle sat down on the bed and heard the phone pick up.

“Is it cliché to say I knew you were going to call?” Yolanda said.

Isabelle laughed a little.
 

“Very,” she said, relieved.

Yolanda was business as usual. After the way Isabelle had nearly bolted from the room after the reading, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Yolanda had been very troubled by what she’d seen in the future and Isabelle had been terrified of hearing anything to do with her and Mac.

“Even so,” Yolanda said, exhaling loudly. “I mean, phew! It sure is good to hear your voice.”

Isabelle frowned a little. Yolanda sounded relieved as well.

“It’s good to hear yours too,” Isabelle said. “I just wanted you to know that everything worked out fine.” She smirked. “Not that you didn’t already know.”

“So the commune’s all done then,” Yolanda said. “Well, good riddance.”

Isabelle blinked.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What?” There was silence on the other end of the phone. Good riddance? What did that mean? “Yolanda?”

More silence.

“Look at the time,” Yolanda said hurriedly. “Who knew it was getting so late. I’ve got to go. You stay in touch.”
 

Then she hung up.

Without so much as a goodbye, Isabelle found herself listening to nothing. Then she stared at the phone.

Good riddance?

•••••

“
What?
” Tim yelled, so loudly Mac had to hold the phone away from his ear.

“
Hey
,” Mac said. “Take it easy.”

“Oh,” Tim said, immediately deflated. “Mac. I thought it was Martinez again.”
Really?
Mac thought.
Is that how you’d talk to your boss?
“But if you’re calling about these damn computers,” Tim said, immediately agitated again. “Get in line.”

Damn
computers.

“I take it there’s no joy on the hacking front,” Mac said.

“To put it mildly,” Tim said. “There was a rootkit hiding a virus.”

Though Mac didn’t know what a rootkit was, he was pretty sure he understood virus.

“What happened?”

“It started erasing the hard disk,” Tim said wearily, as though he’d explained this a hundred times already today. “Writing over it. I pulled the power.”

Mac recalled the smug look on Daniel’s face in the interrogation room. He’d refused to answer a
single
question. The only thing he would say is ‘you’ll see.’
 

Is
this
what he meant?

“Look,” Tim said tiredly. “I’ve got a lot to do. Anything else?”

Mac realized Tim must have been working all weekend.

“No,” Mac said. “Not unless you can scan for the word Botox.”

“Botox?” Tim said. “
No
. I mean, not ‘no’ to Botox. No to anything. Until I can be sure this won’t happen to the second machine, I’m not even turning it on. And until I can kill that virus after mounting the device as a non-bootable disc, I’m not scanning anything.”

MAURICE WATCHED THE albino, lab rat topple sideways in its little glass cage. He quickly logged the time and jotted down a brief note.

“Paralysis,” he said.

He scanned back up the list.

Difficulty swallowing.

Blurred vision.

Trouble breathing.

Abdominal cramps.

And the timing? He quickly tallied the numbers and then did a quick conversion in his head. The weakest members would be dead tonight. The rest, tomorrow. Not even the commune’s doctor would suspect. The first few cases would likely be diagnosed as stomach flu. He’d even take a little himself.
 

Wouldn’t want to be a suspect.