Damned If You Don't (18 page)

“I thought you didn’t want him to know about me just yet.”

“I figured we needed the help, so I called in on my friendship. He gave me twenty-four.”

“I see,” she said. “Do you think whoever used this woman as a guinea pig has already sold the formula?”

He pursed his lips in thought. “No. Not yet. Why are you asking?”

Morgan hesitated, hating that she did. It was hard to deal with someone when every time she said something, a niggle of doubt crept into her brain. But that was what lack of trust caused.

“I was cutting through several departments one day. In a hurry as usual. I overheard one end of a telephone conversation that may be important. I mean, I just realized it might be important.”

“Do you know who was talking?” Jack asked. She could hear the interest in his voice and the tight control on his emotions that made his response

“No. There were too many instruments running. It was too loud, and I was too far away to tell.”

“What makes you think it’s relevant?”

“Because at first I thought it was someone, you know, having an affair. The voice sounded…the conversation was…”

“Intimate?” he pressed.

“Pornographic.”

“All right,” he replied, his tone thoughtful. “What else?”

“Then I figured whoever it was, in spite of the tone of the conversation, was possibly talking to someone else about one of our distributors in Europe. The end of the conversation was distinctly about one of them, a company called Gateway. Maybe this person was looking for a market.”

“Possibly. But I still don’t think whoever it is has found one yet.”

“Why?”

“Because Sam hasn’t gotten all of his zeroes. He’s still looking for us. So it stands to reason, his client doesn’t have his or her zeroes either.”

Morgan nodded. “That makes sense.”

“It does, but just remember, I’m still not sure if we’re not dealing with a serial killer. We can’t rule out that possibility yet.”

Morgan shuddered. “I know.”

She took a deep breath and let the air out in a soft rush. In spite of hating him for betraying her, Morgan’s desire to make things right let her confess, “I need to do something, Jack. I need to fix this.”

“I understand, Morgan. And I promise you we’ll make this right.”

She watched Jack close his eyes and realized she wasn’t his only problem. “What about your buddy Sam? He might end up going to jail.”

She watched Jack frown and open them. He snared her gaze with his, as open and honest a gaze as she’d ever recognized. “He’s responsible for his actions. He’s created his own problems, and he’s going to have to get himself out of them.”

Morgan nodded, trying hard to believe that she had his loyalty. “Was this all about money, Jack?” BioClin. His buddy Sam. Her voice broke as she repeated, “Was it really all for the money?”

He winced at the pain in her voice. “I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “But I swear to you. As God is my witness. Knowing you don’t believe a word I’m going to say. I’m gonna find this bastard. Or bastards. They’re going to get Jack. And they’re going to get justice.”

* * * *

A dim light cast eerie shadows along the wall, glancing off a bank of stainless-steel doors and gleaming countertops. Rows of cabinets lined the opposite wall filled with beakers and test tubes waiting to be used. Evenly spaced work areas, now silent before the day began, waited patiently to start their work again.

Only the sound of a man’s heavy breathing broke the silence.

Anton Dvorak sat straight in the cushioned vinyl lab chair, his hands tied behind his back. He shivered with pleasure as a long red fingernail parted the folds of his once perfectly pressed dress shirt. His tie held his hands, just tight enough so he couldn’t break the bond, just loose enough to allow blood to flow. He’d learned the hard way not to fight. The knot tightened if he struggled.

She’d left him squirming in his chair for hours once when he protested.

That insidious finger drew lazy swirls over his abdomen.
Go lower. Go lower.

He dared not even whisper his plea for fear of her reprisal, not the least of which would be an abrupt end to his night of pleasure.

Her finger traveled aimlessly, and Anton sucked in his stomach, holding his breath in the hope her finger would slip. Just one touch, one graze of skin on skin. He released the air slowly, knowing she would never make that kind of mistake.

A hint of perfume danced through the air. His nostrils widened to catch every delectable morsel of scent. The finger of both pleasure and pain dipped just below his waist, reminding him of the prize.

But, oh God, the torture.

His cock strained for contact, swollen until he was certain it would break. She’d opened his shirt and pants and allowed him to be free, yet there was no freedom in this room, only submission—and the insanity of reward.

Anton swallowed hard as she blew a soft breath over his straining flesh. She strutted her body in front of him, dressed in red lace, her breasts pushed up until they overflowed their confines, her dark thatch shiny and wet from his oral ministrations.

“That was good, Anton. Very good. You have a talented tongue. But not good enough. And you know if you don’t please me, then I won’t please you.”

Words tumbled to the tip of that talented tongue. Words like one touch, one suck, one millisecond in that warm, wonderful, haven of femininity. His lips parted, his chest heaved. He stared at her crotch as if by thought he could bring the prize to him.

She laughed.

Merciful heavens, she laughed. Today was going to be a good day. Today she wouldn’t watch him shame himself with that derisive smile on her face. He hated that smile.

Oh the joy. Today she was going to let him in.

His cock jumped in answer, and she crooned to the organ. Her palm cupped his balls, and he shuddered. He didn’t dare come now. He bit the inside of his cheek, welcoming the pain. He couldn’t come now. She’d deny him for days if he did.

He reined in his mind, concentrating on chemical equations, performing routine calculations in his head. She rolled his balls between her fingers.

Ah God. She was doing it on purpose. There was that grin again.

“Bitch.”

She laughed. “You cannot come until I come at least two more times. Do you understand?”

He nodded. It was a test of wills. A battle of the sexes.

She straddled him. She rubbed her hot, wet core all over his erection. Without giving him a chance to protest, a chance to breathe, she lifted up and thrust herself all the way down on his cock. She started riding him like a horse, up and down, each movement sheer torture, incredible delight. But he didn’t dare come. Not yet. Not until she did. Two more times. Then she would give him the reward he so richly deserved.

But in every battle there were ebbs and flows. It was his turn to make her sweat. Literally and figuratively.

“Sam Ormond has a partner. A guy named Jack Kent. He’s with Mackenzie. I’m positive they know what happened.”

His lover didn’t even break stride, just kept pumping up and down with her mouth parted and her lips glistening in the dim light. A tiny thrill of fear helped take the edge off his lust and Anton was able to keep his composure as she played with her nub and then orgasmed all over his thighs.

She lifted one leg and climbed off him, her face still an unsatisfied mask of desire. Not for him. He’d understood that long ago. For sex. And more sex. And more sex. She pushed her mound over his face, nearly smothering him in an attempt to quench the unquenchable. He stuck his tongue out and lapped at her core. She ground her thighs against his face, begging and pleading until she came one more time.

Thank God, he thought. He’d withstood her demands. Again.

“That’s your problem, Anton. Not mine.”

He frowned. “But you told me all we needed to do was find a buyer. You told me it didn’t matter if the process worked or not. By the time anyone found out, we’d have our money.” Fear and concern caused him to start to shrink. “You told me we would make a fortune.”

She laughed. “Yes, well, I didn’t expect Mackenzie to grow a pair and become so virtuous.”

He watched her stick her finger deep inside her core and pull it out. He licked his lips. “I promised BioClin they’d get their data back.”

She tsked. “You should never make promises you can’t keep, Anton.”

She waved the shiny digit under his nose. His erection grew to full length once more. “But what do I do now?”

“That’s your problem. No one knows I had anything to do with it, Anton. You’re the one who contacted Gateway. You’re the one who’s been playing both sides against the middle.”

“And if I told you I taped our conversations?”

She laughed even harder. “I’d know you were lying. You know why?”

The next thing he knew, she had his balls in her hand. Her fingers tightened slowly. At first the pain made him even more engorged. Then the pain reached deep into his belly.

“I’m sorry!” he yelled. “I’m sorry,” he cried, real tears filling his eyes and falling down his cheeks. The pain. Oh God, shooting through his brain.

Just when he thought he was going to pass out, she let go. And she swallowed his cock whole. She brought him back to full strength in seconds, then slid her steaming, wet heat over him.

He watched her throw back her head and open her long, slender neck to his gaze. Such a pretty neck. White and smooth and flawless. What a shame to mar such lovely skin. She lifted up and down on top of him, and he lifted his hips to match her movements. She tweaked his nipple with her thumb and forefinger, and intense pleasure shot through his groin. With one part of his brain, Anton acknowledged that he was about to come. With the other, he realized he was going to regret losing her. And as he reached the peak of sensation, as his mind reached parity with his body, one thought pounded along with the pounding of their bodies.

He had the formula. He had the data from the original experiments. He could take the data he had, fix the formula, and cut her out completely. His only regret would be that he wasn’t going to be around to see her face when she found out he was gone.

Chapter Seventeen

“Touch another one of my fries, and I’ll be forced to remove your fingers from your hand.”

Taken aback, Morgan had to look at Jack twice before she saw that little grin of his. She yanked her fingers back and stared at them to make sure they were all there. “I’ll remember that.”

He sat back in the booth of the restaurant, seemingly at ease with himself. She frowned, wondering how he could look so unaffected. As if telling her to get over it already would wipe the slate clean.

Jack waved his hand for their waiter and asked for a check. Then he finished the last of his french fries. By himself.

Morgan threw herself back into her seat too and started fidgeting. “I don’t want to go back to the hotel. I’m tired of being cooped up.”

She watched him cock his head. “So am I.”

“Since the only way I want to communicate with you right now is about finding a murderer, let’s try to be productive, shall we?”

He smiled. “I’m not sure how much we can do until I contact Ian again. So why don’t you just try to relax.”

“I can’t. I need to find out who’s behind all of this so I can put an end to it once and for all.”

He sighed. “I always thought scientists were patient people. You know. One step at a time? That sort of thing?”

“We are. I mean, I am. Normally. Well, I try to be.”

“Ahh. So it’s the lack of control that’s bugging you.”

“Yes. No.” Morgan snared his gaze with hers. “I think you know exactly what I’m feeling right now.”

He nodded, his face turning grim for a moment. Then he brightened. “I have an idea. How about we free-mind for a few minutes?”

“What’s free-mind?”

“It’s like playing with a gigantic whiteboard. Anything you think of, we write down. And somewhere along the way, we get dots we can connect.” He cocked his head at her. “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t heard of this before. I’d have thought in your line of business, it would be a first step.”

She shook her head. “I’m so linear, you can use me as a level.”

He smiled, and she realized how much she’d missed his smile. “I’ll remember that.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Let your mind go.”

Morgan knew that would be nearly impossible. “I can’t, Jack. Every time I do, I feel responsible for an innocent woman’s death. I get angry, and I can’t think anymore. I want justice. For her. For all of them.”

“And absolution for yourself?”

“Yes! No!” She grabbed her head with her hands. Then covered her face with them so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “Oh God, Jack. It’s tearing me up inside.”

He reached out across the table and gently pried them loose. His touch felt so good, so right. “I know, Morgan.”

She could feel his reluctance as he let go. “I keep thinking I missed something. Something simple. Something really stupid. Something that’s going to make me hate myself more than I do already. Just help me find the bastard or bastards who did this so I can try to sleep at night,” she begged.

He sat back and pulled a pad and pen out of his jacket pocket. He gave her a couple of sheets of paper, and she pulled another pen out of her pocketbook.

“All right. Let’s start at the beginning,” he began. “Before you began to think there was a problem. You must have had contact with upper management.”

She threw him a look. “Of course. I even gave two boardroom presentations.”

That piqued his interest. “Who was there?”

“The COO, the CFO, the VPs of Marketing, Regulatory, R&D, two senior members of my staff to explain some of our findings, and the heads of the other departments.”

She watched him frown. “The heads of other departments? Why were they there?”

“Courtesy, mostly. But you also have to understand the implications of my work for the company. This was bigger than Lipitor and Viagra put together. So, at the time, I also thought they were invited to ask questions. Of course, you throw enough PhDs into the mix, you get back alphabet soup.”