Sins of the Flesh (14 page)

“I don’t think my client cared whether Shaw came back dead or alive.”

Confusion slipped across Liliana’s features. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that since he sent someone else after her as well, my client is probably hoping someone might be bringing her in dead.”

“He hired you to kill her?” she hissed and shot an anxious look toward the doorway of the guest room.

Mick shrugged and eased the tips of his fingers into his jeans pockets. “No, but with the kind of money he was paying—”

“You understood that having to kill Caterina might be a possibility.” Accusation was thick in her voice. With an abrupt shake of her head, she whirled on her heel and took a few jerky strides away, before she whirled back and faced him. “You used to be my hero. Not anymore.”

Her words cut him deeply, but she was right. Hell, he had never wanted the responsibility that being a hero brought.

But the nagging voice that remained buried deep within him answered back.

“I don’t
eliminate people for money.
Coño
, I wasn’t even going to turn her over without finding out what really happened in that lab.”

Liliana came to stand before him again. “What did happen in that lab, Mick?”

He focused on a spot in the distance, his mind’s eye recalling the pictures Edwards had provided. Recalling what he had seen today—the blood all over the lab and the damage in the room.

“Something awful,” he said before finally facing his sister. “If Shaw did it…” He exhaled roughly. “I need you to be careful until we can figure out what’s going on with her. And Edwards did hire someone else for this job besides me, but that’s been taken care of.”

“Should I reconsider my request to stay here?” Liliana asked, but her tone was teasing, an attempt to lighten the earlier tension between them.

Mick thought about how it might look to the neighbors that Liliana was coming and going. If anything, it might make it appear that nothing was happening in the house except a visit from his sister.

“If you decide to stay, you need to be extra careful.”

“Promise.”

Knowing Liliana, he was sure that promise would be kept. But he also needed something else from her.

“Do you think you could help me review her medical history again? Just in case I missed something?”

Liliana nodded, but inclined her head down the hall to his bedroom. “I just need a few minutes to call Harrison. Let him know I won’t be home tonight, or for that matter, anytime soon.”

“What about your stuff?” he asked.

“I’ll swing by during the day while he’s at the hospital and get my things.”

Mick reached out and dragged her into his arms. “Like I said before, if you need me—”

“I know and I appreciate the offer, but this is something I have to take care of myself.”

The call came well beyond midnight.

Mick and Liliana had been discussing and researching various experiments and treatments based on Shaw’s file for a couple of hours.

“Tell me this isn’t a BFD,” he said to Franklin as he answered.

“Sorry,
amigo
, but the camel’s on fire.”

Shit
, he thought, but forced a smile on his face for his sister. He motioned with his head that he wanted her to leave the room, needing privacy for the upcoming discussion.

“I’ll go check on Caterina,” she said, rising from the chair and hurrying out.

Mick closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “What’s the SNAFU?”

“Edwards was way too calm when I told him I was off the assignment.”

Mick processed that comment, but it didn’t take much to realize why.

“We weren’t the only two he hired.”

“Sorry, man. When I was going through security at the end of the day, I noticed some guest names on their list. Mad Dog paid Wardwell a visit also. I tried to get more info only—”

“Fuck,” Mick muttered and raked his fingers through his hair.

Matthew Donnelly, aka Mad Dog, was nothing but trouble.

“But you’re not sure that Edwards hired him?” he pressed.

“This is the kind of job Mad Dog would do for free,” Franklin retorted with a rough laugh.

Beautiful woman.

Big challenge.

Possible death.

Definitely the kind of assignment Mad Dog would relish.

“Do you know what Mad Dog’s been up to lately?”

“Private security black ops. Heard he was doing some time in the Middle East, but got booted. Then he headed down to South America on another assignment. Never really wanted to stay in touch with him, if you know what I mean,” Franklin replied.

Mick knew exactly. Mad Dog was a sick miserable fuck. Most people wanted to keep off his radar.

“Thanks, Franklin. Keep me posted on anything else you hear.”

Mick snapped the cell phone shut and took a deep breath as he considered Franklin’s news.

Mad Dog had probably been spreading mayhem wherever he went, Mick thought, recalling his last mission with the other mercenary. Two innocent civilians had become collateral damage, not that Mad Dog had cared.

Mad Dog had been fired by the large private security firm after that incident and had seemingly disappeared. Mick had left the firm of his own volition and set up his
private agency to deal with different kinds of problems. Not that those problems hadn’t occasionally involved the possibility of death.

But not cold-blooded murder.

And a man like Mad Dog would help himself to Shaw in other ways as well. In her almost-returning-to-normal state, it was hard to ignore how attractive she was in person.

The professional photographs hadn’t done her justice.

But as he had thought in Edwards’s office days earlier, he reminded himself that beauty didn’t preclude violence.

Not to mention that violence had its own beauty.

Mick was an artist of that kind of beauty.

Raising his hands, Mick examined them, almost as if they belonged to someone else. They were hands capable of brutality, but not cruelty. Hands that could bestow tenderness, not that he’d had much opportunity for that lately. Hands capable of passion, which he could easily get and give.

Women seemed to be drawn to him, or maybe it was better to say they were drawn to the aura of danger around him. Enticed by the prospect of a risky tryst with a handsome man who knew how to satisfy.

That kind of attraction didn’t really make for anything but a passable fuck.

And a sad existence.

Jerking away from the door, he opened it and returned to the guest room where Liliana sat in the comfy chair, laptop on her legs, reading something online.

“You may want to reconsider staying here after all,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

She looked up, her dark eyes filled with puzzlement. “You want me to go back to Harrison?”

Mick strode over to her, kneeled before her, and tenderly took hold of her hands. Strong, capable, loving hands. Hands that could never be violent.

“Someone else has been sent after Shaw. Someone nasty.”

“So? More reason for me to stay and help out,” she said and twined her fingers with his.

“You don’t understand,
hermanita
,” he said, shaking his head.

“I get it. He’s the Big Bad, but you’re here. You’ll watch out for us.”

Her trust in him warmed a long-lost piece of his soul and yet…

“You didn’t think that before. When you said—”

“That you weren’t my hero. I was angry. I wanted to lash out because…”

She looked away from him, but it wasn’t enough to hide the tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Because why, Lil?”

She sucked in a shaky breath and bit her bottom lip. “Because for months now I’ve been losing control of my life. I was angry about that.”

He cupped her chin and urged her to face him. With a proud smile, he said, “You are a beautiful and amazing woman. One who can take care of what she needs to do.”

One lone tear spilled down her cheek. She braved a watery smile and said, “Then trust that I can handle myself now. That I can help you with this assignment.”

She was his blood and they had overcome a great deal of adversity together. The early days when they had first arrived from Mexico and everything had been scarce. As children they had faced the challenges of being different
in a predominantly white community. Survived the near ruin of their family’s business several years earlier.

He wouldn’t dismiss her abilities when he needed them the most.

Recognizing that she needed to be here and involved to regain what she thought she had lost, he said, “Watch your back when you’re coming and going. If you see anything that seems suspicious, you call me and head to the nearest police station.”

“Copy that,” she said and shot him a playful salute.

Gesturing to the laptop, he said, “Get anything else out of there?”

Liliana’s smiled firmed and broadened.

“You bet I did.”

M
ick nudged the door open and walked in, looking fresh and well-rested, but Caterina knew he had spent the night in the chair by the bed again.

Whenever she woke from a sleep packed with fitful images, he had been there, alert as well. Offering comfort. His dark eyes seeming to register every little facet of what was happening, as if to catalogue the events for further analysis.

He had even released her once during the course of that uneven night, escorting her to the bathroom so she could relieve herself. This time he had waited outside the door, sparing her the ignominy that he had visited upon her the day before.

Back in the room, he had tied her up again, but not as tightly.

Has he come to believe I’m not a threat
? Caterina thought.

As Mick approached the bed, Caterina wondered how he could have reached such a decision when she herself still doubted.

The images that had come to her during the night had been violent. Horribly so. A slideshow of blood, destruction,
and death. Vividly real in her mind, but with enough gaps that it made her memory inconsistent.

Through every nightmare he had been by her side, providing stability and comfort.

“Good morning,” he said, walking to the foot of the bed. He released the bindings, but didn’t retie the restraints.

At the headboard, he did the same, freeing her from her bondage.

She rubbed at her wrists, not that they were sore. She had stopped fighting against the restraints last night after supper, realizing that this man and the young woman didn’t intend her harm.

Not like she had struggled at Wardwell.

Wardwell.

She remembered now the names of her captors. Remembered that Dr. Wells hadn’t necessarily been all goodness and light, although he had befriended her.

“They used to tie me down,” she suddenly told Mick.

A flicker of emotion darkened his almost impenetrable gaze as his eyes met hers.

“Edwards?” he asked, seeking confirmation.

She nodded. “Wells, too. And Dr. Morales.”

He plopped down into the chair, but leaned forward, his elbows resting on broad powerful thighs. His fingers loosely laced together.

“Morales is their assistant.” His tone seemed to seek confirmation of that statement.

Caterina searched her brain, trying to remember more about Morales. The name had popped into her recollection last night as she forced herself to try and recall what had happened to her.

Nothing came to her about Morales. She shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

He thought about what he had learned from the files he had taken. “Dr. Morales isn’t a physician. He’s a geneticist, from what we could gather from your files.”

Caterina again tried to place the name. In a burst of intense, powerful images that blinded her, the doctor’s image flashed into her mind.

A dark-eyed little man.

A thin smile as sharp as the instruments in his hand.

Burning pain in her veins from his needle.

The images came over and over, interspersed with agony so real, she needed to escape it. She shifted forward, but encountered a hard chest. Buried her head there as he wrapped his strong arms around her.

“Easy, Cat. They’re just memories,” Mick said softly.

She grabbed hold of his T-shirt, her hands fisted tightly into the fabric as she keened like a child. Only the press of her body against his was very womanly.

Too much so, Mick realized, fighting his visceral reaction to her proximity.

“Why is this happening?” she murmured against his chest, rubbing her head there, as if by doing so she could erase the images.

He cradled the back of her head with immense restraint and tenderness, sifting his fingers through the thick curls. “They gave you small doses of LSD in addition to a bunch of other hallucinogenic drugs. It may take a little while for all that medication to work out of your system.”

“What’s a ‘little while’?” she asked, wagging her head more forcefully, as if trying to dislodge the visions. As he glanced down, he realized she had gone all camo on him again.

Her hands were the color of his dark blue polo shirt and the rest of her was beginning to blend into the rust brown of the oversized T-shirt he had offered her to wear.