Tainted Hearts (21 page)

“Have a seat.” Marc motioned to one of the
dining room chairs with his pistol.

Without warning, Elijah lunged for Marc. The
pulse from Marc’s gun knocked the younger man backward and he
crumpled to the carpeting.

“Have to do everything the hard way,” Marc
muttered as he positioned the unconscious man in the chair and
bound his arms and legs to the stout metal frame.

While his assassin-turned-hostage was still
unconscious Marc dressed and retrieved his vidcom from the
bathroom. He kept his pistol in hand in case Elijah tried something
stupid again.

Marc paged Phil.

“Cobra here.”

“I just had an unexpected visitor. I’d
rather not involve the authorities at this point. Would you care to
come collect your prodigal son?”

Elijah was still dazed when Phil arrived
twenty minutes later.

“He swears this is personal, but that seems
hard to believe.” Marc waited for Phil to conclude his string of
profanity before he continued to speak. “Do you think Job ordered
the hit?”

“Honestly?”

Marc rolled his eyes. “No, lie to me.
Attempted murder isn’t enough excitement to get my morning
started.”

“Don’t turn smartass on me.” Phil crossed
his arms over his chest. “I don’t have the patience and I don’t
need the money, so—”

“Why the hell was Elijah here aiming a pulse
pistol at me?”

“You’re the grim reaper, the angel of death,
a putrid arm spreading pestilence.” Elijah’s voice sounded groggy
and slurred.

“Charming imagery.” Marc sneered. “Did they
teach you that during your PURE indoctrination?”

“I found you. Job will too. It’s only a
matter of time.” Elijah ended the statement with another hateful
glare.

“He’s been spouting PURE doctrines since he
returned a few days ago. I thought the deprogrammer was getting
through to him.”

“Apparently not.”

Phil studied Elijah, disappointment clear in
his blue gaze. “I’ll take care of it, Mr. Sinclair. I take full
responsibility.”

“Placing blame is a waste of time.” Marc
banished the concept with a wave of his arm. “How did he find me
and what does he really know? If his conversion is authentic, he
could have vital information. He’s seen my new face. He cannot be
allowed to notify Job.” He turned to Elijah, his gaze narrowed and
menacing. “What is Final PUREification? Tell me now and I’ll let
you live.”

“You are the bringer of death, not life. The
future is in God’s hands.”

Marc clenched and unclenched his fists,
turning back to Phil. “You used to be military. Do you know any
good interrogators?”

Phil smirked. “I might. Help me load him in
my shuttle and I’ll see what I can do.”

Tuesday spent the next three days in her lab
researching, determined to thwart PURE’s plans. The SP-64 operated
on a self-contained power source, with redundant backup cells. The
cells recharged once a week while the owner slept. The wireless
recharger was compact and available at any electronic store. The
same wireless, rechargeable cells powered everything from vidcoms
to handheld workstations.

Had PURE found a way to interrupt or
overload the cells? An electromagnetic pulse that would cause mass
malfunction?

Except for the minor valve glitch, the
design was at optimum. How did PURE hope to use her masterpiece as
a weapon for mass murder? It didn’t make sense.

“Have you even been home since I saw you
last?” Vonne asked as she strolled through the open door.

“There’s a cot and a shower in the back.”
She waved away her friend’s concern.

“Though I appreciate your dedication, I
think I can be fined by the Labor Board for things like this.”

Tuesday pushed away from her desk and stood,
stretching the stiffness from her back. “No one is making me stay
here. Besides, I answer to a higher authority than the Labor Board
at the moment.”

“Meaning you answer to a higher authority
than me?”

Smiling despite her fatigue, Tuesday rolled
her shoulders and moved out from behind her desk. “You’ve always
been more of a source of information and support. Browbeating is
definitely not your style.”

“For which you are ever grateful?” Vonne
asked hopefully.

“I could use a few hours away from here.
Clear my head.”

Vonne scowled, practicing her brow beating.
“You could use a few days away from here. Why don’t you work from
home, or better yet, see if Subject A’s father will take you some
place exotic.”

“And leave Subject A?”

“Subject A is being discharged today under
the supervision of her nurse.”

Arching a brow, Tuesday considered the
significance. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I knew she was
recovering remarkably well but I didn’t realize she was ready to go
home.”

“Aren’t you and—her father talking?”

“It’s complicated.” She felt a pang of
frustration at the understatement.

She had no doubt Job was having her watched.
The mediplex had been swept by a team of technicians to remove
electronic surveillance devices but she knew Marc still monitored
certain areas. He’d jacked into the building’s own security system
and the technicians hadn’t found his points of access. If Marc
could do it, so could Job. Every time she was with Marc, it
increased the chances Job would discover Marc’s identity.

“I know you aren’t officially back at work
but can you tell me anything?”

She heaved an audible sigh. She’d known
Vonne for most of her adult life. It was hard keeping secrets from
her. “I don’t know that much more than you know already, Vonne. But
what I do is Top Secret.”

“Figures. Well, I guess the location of
Subject A’s father is Top Secret too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was looking for you up on the Corporate
Level. Wanted you to have this.”

She took the scrap of paper from Vonne and
smiled.

“You got my note.” Marc swung the door open
and breathed in Tuesday’s scent, sweet, lightly floral, enticingly
feminine. She swept past him and into the hotel room. He
smiled.

“Sorry it took me so long. I stopped at my
apartment to freshen up. I got a little obsessed with my research
and lost track of the time.”

Brows scrunched together over his eyes, he
glanced at his watch. “It’s barely nine.”

“Okay, I lost track of the days.” She
laughed. He loved hearing her laugh, wanted to wrap himself in the
warm, musical sound and float around the room.

Distracted by the beauty of her elfin
features, it took him a moment to realize the significance of what
she’d said. “You’ve been at the mediplex since I saw you last,
three days ago?”

“I tend to be driven.”

“I’ll say.”

These had been the longest three days of his
life. He’d hoped Phil would have a breakthrough with Elijah. If the
spy told them what they needed to know, there would be no reason
for Tuesday to return to the PURE stronghold.

She’d turned to Marc for comfort after the
emotional trauma of meeting Job. Their passionate encounter had
been wonderful. But Marc wanted to make certain her feelings ran
deeper than a momentary need for comfort.

He ushered her farther into the room and
seated her at a small round table. Massive windows framed a
spectacular view of the city lights and jutting buildings
silhouetted against a blue-black sky. He took the bottle of chilled
white wine and filled their glasses. “Any progress? Have you
figured out what they’re planning?”

Her jovial mood disintegrated and he wanted
to kick himself. Tonight was about romance, candlelight and
fantasy. Why’d he go and open his big mouth?

She lifted her wineglass and sipped. He
watched her lips, the delicate movement of her throat. “I haven’t a
clue and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve tried to anticipate everything
but it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe we were wrong about the heart. Final
PUREification could have nothing to do with the SP-64.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what else
it could be. Disabling the SP-64 specifically targets those with
Methuselah Syndrome.”

He waved away the subject with his
wineglass. “This isn’t why I asked you here. We’ll talk through all
your findings and develop a plan first thing in the morning. I want
this night to be special. I want it to be for us. We’ve had
precious little time together without outside pressures
complicating things. Tonight I want to focus entirely on us. No
distractions. No interruptions. Just you and me.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks. “Sounds
wonderful.”

“I know this all began unconventionally but
I promise after the assignment with Job is concluded, we’ll rewind.
Or start over. I’ll take you out to dinner and to the theater.
Whatever you want.”

“I want you.”

Emotion spiraled through him, passionate and
possessive. Green fire lit her gaze and stirred his smoldering
desire. So, why was he disappointed by her words? “I need you,
Tuesday. This is more than want.”

I love you.
He bit back the words
before he sent her screaming in terror from the room. Slow,
romantic, gentle. He had to approach her carefully.

She pushed back her chair and gulped down
the rest of her wine. Bracing herself for what was to come? God, he
hoped not. He wanted her wild and willing, not stiff and
accepting.

As usual, she wore a gauzy, swirling dress
that would have looked ridiculous on anyone but her. She quickly
kicked aside her woven leather sandals and grabbed the hem of her
dress. Pulling it off over her head, she revealed what little she
wore beneath. The tiny scrap of material was hardly worth terming
panties.

“Any questions about what I need?” she
asked, with a slow sexy smile.

Marc stood, shed his shirt, and shucked his
pants faster than he could remember having accomplished the feat in
his life. His gaze fixed on that teasing scrap of lace, now her
only covering. Shoes and socks quickly followed in a messy heap but
unlike her, he shed his briefs.

Mesmerized by the bunch and flex of his
magnificent body, Tuesday could only stare. Every taut plane, every
ridged muscle, every ripple of definition stimulated her senses and
heated her blood. She advanced before he even disentangled himself
from his underwear. She had to touch him—there was no way around
it. She simply must memorize every contour of his flesh.

He groaned at the first stroke of her eager
hands, but stood still and let her explore. His arms circled her
loosely, leaving plenty of room to maneuver. Pressing against him,
she caressed his broad back and tight buttocks.

“My turn,” he whispered hoarsely, stepping
back. He pulled the table away from the window and set the
wineglasses aside. Then he helped her hop up onto the smooth
tabletop.

She glanced out at the skyline, her eyes
widening as she realized the significance of the view. “Someone
might see us,” she protested.

“And won’t they be jealous. Let’s share the
rest of the wine.”

His sensual smile assured her he had no
interest in crystal goblets. He stepped between her knees and
pulled her snugly against his chest. Her breasts and belly pressed
against his warm torso. Taking a deep swig directly from the
bottle, he carefully sealed his mouth over hers. She angled her
head, accepting the intimate link and the trickle of crisp, white
wine.

The intoxicating flavor added a new
dimension to their kisses. She swallowed the wine and threaded her
fingers through his thick hair. Their breaths mingled, their
tongues danced. He licked and nibbled his way from her mouth to the
sensitive underside of her jaw.

Guiding her hands to the edge of the table
behind her and spreading her legs a bit wider, he positioned her
for his pleasure. She watched his eyes, warmed by the hunger she
saw in his gaze. He retrieved one of the glasses from the floor and
poured the rest of the wine into it. She didn’t ask what he
intended. Anticipation curled through her, intensifying the
persistent throb in her feminine core.

He dipped his fingers in the wine and
smiled. “You’re so damn tempting like this, maybe I’ll just pull up
a chair and enjoy the view.”

“And maybe I’ll get bored and go home.”

Stepping back between her legs, he painted
her gently parted lips with the wine. “A woman who knows what she
wants. Gotta love that.”

He bent and licked her lips, not really
kissing her, just sampling the wine before it evaporated. Her
nipples received the same treatment. Over and over he coated them
with wine, then licked them clean. She needed the firm suction of
his mouth, but he laved her gently, teasingly, until she arched,
frustrated and restless.

Setting the wineglass beside her on the
table, he turned his attention to her black lace thong. “This is
just plain sexy. Did you buy it for me?”

“I bought it a long time ago. I’ve just
never worn it until now.”

“Then, lift up or I’ll rip it off you.”

She raised her hips and he pulled the thin
straps down along her thighs. He knelt and her heart flipped over
in her chest. Would Marc… Leo had refused to put his mouth on her.
Every time she’d hinted that she might enjoy experimenting in that
way, Leo had seemed repulsed.

“More wine?” Marc grinned and drizzled it
into her feminine curls.

She giggled. “That’s cold.” The cool liquid
saturated her folds and a startled gasp tore from her throat. “It
burns!”

He quickly lifted her feet to his shoulders,
forcing her knees to bend. His mouth soothed the sting with slow,
tantalizing sweeps of his tongue. Drizzling more wine, his lips
joined the seduction. He nuzzled and gently sucked, leaving the
wine against her delicate folds only long enough to intensify the
sensitivity.