Tainted Hearts (20 page)

Her casual attitude brought him up short.
“You don’t agree with this, do you? One hour with Job and you’re a
True Believer?”

“I didn’t say I agree with it. I said it’s
based on scientific principles. Is it humane and acceptable to
force those principles on others? That’s the real question and the
answer is a resounding no. I comprehend survival of the fittest. I
don’t condone perpetuating it.”

“What would it take to perpetuate it?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “What are
you getting at?”

“If those between 0.9 and PURE are allowed
to live out their lives in the stronghold so long as they don’t
reproduce, and all the 0.0s move to the Controlled Community, what
happens to the rest of us?”

“Final PUREification.”

They looked at each other, horror dawning in
their eyes.

“But how? What could they do…how could—”

“If it wasn’t for the SP-64, most of us
would already be dead or dying.”

“Job can’t expect me to sabotage my own
invention.” Tuesday saw the answer in Marc’s expression and shook
her head. “There’s no way. The vast majority of those devices are
installed in infants!”

“Tainted, defective infants nature intended
to die.”

She gasped, her hand instinctively moving to
her chest. The strong, steady beat of her natural heart mocked her
horror. “Whatever his plan is, there has to be more to it than me.
I refused to even see that—creature until today. He knows I’m
skeptical at best.”

Scratching his chin, Marc nodded. “I can’t
argue with that. I’ll get my security team working on it, and I
need to let Bettencourt know what we’ve learned so far.”

“What have we really learned? Job is a
manipulative lunatic. Rahab appears to have ready access to him but
she hasn’t killed him yet and there is an ominous phrase used in
some of their literature. That’s not much to report.”

“It’s more than you realize. It’s a place to
start.” He smiled, slowing the escalation of her emotions. “We’ll
take a few days off. Wait for him to contact you.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He will. You’re the unwitting savior of the
tainted world. He has to recruit you.”

“Or PUREify me.”

He didn’t respond.

She pushed to her feet, restless and angry.
Her life had always been complicated, but Job made her feel
powerless, as if his vision of the future was inevitable. She hated
helplessness and refused to bow to inevitability. Her entire life
had been spent proving naysayers wrong and beating astronomical
odds.

Didn’t Job know who she was?

“He is not getting away with this.” She
glanced at Marc and found him grinning from ear to ear. “What’s
with the smile?”

“Welcome back.”

Tuesday laughed. “I haven’t been this
rattled since some lunatic kidnapped me.” She crossed to the sofa
and pulled him to his feet, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Job may consider himself pure but he made me feel filthy. I want
to scrub my entire body. I feel contaminated.”

“Why don’t you take a bath before I fly you
home.” He pressed his lips to hers in the teasing hint of a
kiss.

“Why don’t we take a bath and spend the
night here?” Moving closer, she pressed her breasts against his
chest and tried to kiss him.

Marc wrapped his hands around her upper
arms, staying just out of reach. “Are you sure? I don’t want to
take advantage—“

Standing on her tiptoes, Tuesday silenced
him with a kiss. He cupped her butt with both hands, holding her
against him, greeting her tongue with the warm swirl of his.

Not willing to release his mouth, Tuesday
clung to him as he guided her toward the bathroom. She wanted to
feel his “tainted” hands slide all over her body. She needed to
touch him, taste him, take him, until nothing else remained.

He unzipped her dress and she lifted her
arms from the fluttery sleeves. By the time she’d kicked off her
sandals and hung the dress on the hook beside the bathroom door,
he’d stripped to his boxers.

Heat moved through her in a languid swirl.
Her face flushed, her nipples tightened, and her core pulsed.
Sagging against the door, she whispered, “Maybe we should take the
bath after. I don’t think I can wait.”

A wicked grin parted his lips as he stalked
toward her. “Whatever Tuesday wants, Tuesday gets.” He leaned in
close, bracing himself against the door on either side of her
shoulders. “I await your instructions, my lady.”

She stroked his chest, absorbing the firm
warmth with her fingers, her hands. One of his knees nudged her
legs apart, rubbing his muscular thigh against her mound. Tension
intensified.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Framing her face with his palms, he kissed
her deeply, passionately. He made her feel alive, excited and
exciting. Beautiful.

His mouth descended along the sensitive
column of her throat. He cupped her breast in one warm hand. Her
nipple hardened, tingled. Her heartbeat thundered beneath his palm.
Moving his fingers lower, he circled her with his tongue, nipping
and sucking. Tuesday moaned.

He pulled her away from the door, bending
her over his arm. The arch of her back thrust her breasts upward, a
sensual offering. His mouth moved across her flesh with lazy
fascination. He licked and kissed his way from one breast to the
other and back.

Tuesday’s head spun, her senses burned. She
wanted more of him—all of him! Breathless and restless, she clung
to his shoulders. His mouth returned to hers as his hands swept
downward, pulling her panties off.

This was it, no more hiding, no barriers.
The stubborn remnants of her insecurity tried to reassemble
themselves. Would seeing all of her beneath the bathroom’s bright
lights make him turn away?

Soothing her with patient kisses, he rid
himself of his underwear and pressed against her skin to skin. His
hands skimmed along her sides, stroked her rounded hips, and
slipped between their bodies. She rested her head against the door,
closing her eyes as he touched her intimately.

He stroked her damp curls and slipped his
middle finger between her passion-slicked folds. For endless
minutes he did nothing more than slide his finger forward and back,
forward and back.

Her clit swelled and throbbed insistently.
She needed his touch there—now. She arched, grinding against his
fingers. He parted her and circled the exquisitely sensitive knot
of nerves. Her core melted, preparing for his entry.

“God, you’re so hot, so soft. I want to be
inside you, but I don’t want to stop touching you,” he murmured
against her parted lips.

With abrupt urgency, he grasped her hips and
lifted her to the smooth counter between the double sinks. “That’s
cold,” she gasped.

“Give me a minute and you won’t even
notice.”

His gaze moved over her naked body and
Tuesday held her breath. His lips parted, eyes brightened, pupils
dilated. Even her battered self-esteem couldn’t deny the longing
reflected in his expression. Joy swept through her, dissolving her
inhibitions, freeing her desire.

He ran his hands along her inner thighs,
easing her legs apart. Tuesday glanced down, fascinated by the
contrast in their skin tone, and the obvious care with which he
touched her. Her chest constricted, tension coiled low in her belly
making her ache.

He pushed two fingers inside her and Tuesday
fought back a passionate cry. His thumb stroked her while his
fingers glided in and out.

She watched his fingers surge again and
again, reveling in the carnal beauty they created. He pulled her
hips to the edge of the counter and dragged his fingers out. Her
inner muscles fluttered, protesting his retreat. He pressed one
hand against the small of her back, while he positioned himself
with the other.

She hadn’t seen him that night in her
apartment. Her skirt had hidden a lot! Lifting her knees high
against his sides, she opened herself in brazen invitation.

Bracing against the counter, Tuesday closed
her eyes. Her body parted, stretched, and accepted his full
length.

“That feels so good,” he whispered.

His hands caressed her hips, her breasts,
her shoulders, before settling on her hips again. Holding her
firmly, he pulled back, leaving only his tip enveloped in her
swollen folds.

Tuesday trembled. This felt wonderful but
she needed so much more. He kissed her, one long, consuming kiss
after another. She shared his breath, explored his mouth as boldly
as he explored hers.

Marc hooked her legs over his arms and
buried himself completely with one forceful lunge. Tuesday gasped.
He did it again and again, thrusting hard, withdrawing slowly.
Rational thought deserted her. She could see only him. Feel only
the thick slide of his body as he moved over and into her.

He leaned down, sucking her nipple into his
mouth, never breaking rhythm with his hips. Climax built with
alarming speed. She didn’t want it to be over so soon.

She leaned back against the mirror and
grabbed her knees, pulled her legs wide, surrendered completely.
Marc flicked her clit with his fingertips as he thrust hard and
deep. She cried out, tightening around him, trembling violently as
pleasure inundated her senses.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her
against his chest. Her body vibrated with gentle aftershocks as
they kissed. He smiled into her eyes, but Tuesday glanced away,
embarrassed by her wantonness.

She’d been so consumed by the intensity of
her orgasm she wasn’t even sure if he made it.

“Are you ready for that bath now?” he
whispered against her lips.

Tuesday was gone when Marc woke up the
following morning. His vidcom rested in the middle of her pillow,
the cursor highlighted the memo feature.

He activated the message and held the device
in front of him as Tuesday’s smiling face materialized.

“Please don’t be angry. I thought it would
be easier if I snuck away while you slept. You would have insisted
on flying me home and that would have been dangerous for both of
us. The less we’re seen together, the safer we’ll be. At least
until this mess with PURE is finished.”

She paused, a mischievous smile curving her
lips.

“I suspect you can look in on me anytime you
want. I’ll be at the lab trying to figure out how our favorite
freak plans to sabotage my heart.” She blew him a kiss and ended
the recording.

Marc tossed back the covers and crawled out
of bed. She was right. He would have wanted to stay with her as
long as possible but his presence didn’t really protect her. His
identity put her at risk. If Job somehow learned she was Marc
Sinclair’s lover…

Marc blew out a ragged breath. He needed to
contact Phil. Had Elijah gone back to the stronghold? How had Job
reacted to meeting his queen?

Marc went to the bathroom and retrieved a
small packet from the pocket of his pants. Over the years Marc had
learned to appreciate Phil’s security toys. He took a thin strip
from the packet and pressed the adhesive side across the main
door’s seam. If anyone entered the suite, the strip would send a
signal to his vidcom.

Grabbing his vidcom and his pistol, he
headed for the bathroom. He took a towel from the rack and stepped
into the shower stall. “Spray on.”

Images of Tuesday’s soft body flared to life
within his mind. Their timing couldn’t be worse, but he wouldn’t
regret the emotions stirring within his soul. He’d thought those
emotions dead and buried many years ago.

“Intruder alert.”

Jarred from his contented thoughts by the
synthesized voice of his vidcom, Marc stepped from the stall and
wrapped the towel around his hips. Leaving the shower spray active,
he took his pistol and deactivated the safety.

Chances were he was about to scare the hell
out of the housekeepers. But he had no intention of gambling with
his life. One door led to the main room of the suite, the other to
the bedroom. He turned off his vidcom and crept toward the bedroom
door.

Easing the portal open, he scanned the room
with practiced ease, checking for bulges in the draperies and any
change in the furniture’s arrangement.

Nothing.

He crept across the room and inched open the
door to the main room of the suite.

The door was jerked open and the intruder
collided with Marc, knocking him back into the bedroom with a
violent shove. Dressed entirely in black, complete with a
translucent mask, the assassin raised his gun and fired. Marc
dropped and rolled. The blast seared a wide furrow in the
carpeting, trailing behind Marc like a macabre shadow.

Marc spun and kicked the assassin’s legs out
from under him, aiming his shot at the other man’s knees. His blast
went wide. The assassin laughed, scrambling to his feet.

Launching himself at the assassin, Marc
caught him around the thighs. They tumbled to the carpet, Marc on
top, the intruder thrashing beneath. Marc pressed his pistol to the
other man’s head and slammed his hand against the floor.

“Drop it or die!”

The assassin held tightly to his weapon.
Marc jammed his thumb into his wrist and waited for the assassin’s
hand to go numb. The intruder bucked and twisted, Marc’s pistol a
silent reminder that death was half a heartbeat away.

Marc didn’t want to blow his head off, but
the stubborn fool wouldn’t let go. Then the assassin’s fingers went
lax and the weapon slipped from his grasp.

Batting it out of reach, Marc snatched the
mask off the assassin’s face and sadly shook his head. “What is Job
paying you, Elihu?”

Elijah James glared up at him, murder still
burning in his gaze. “This has nothing to do with Job. You should
have fried a long time ago.”

Marc dragged him to his feet and marched him
into the outer room. With his gun carefully trained on Elijah, Marc
snatched the braided tiebacks from the drapes.