Tainted Hearts (7 page)

“How does Bettencourt know what name she’s
using?” Marc mused.

The sofa squeaked as Marc stood, but Tuesday
couldn’t drag her gaze from the blank screen. Fear pounded through
her veins, stronger now than it had been when she’d emerged from
the drug-induced stupor. Was there even a little girl? Was this a
test? Some sick game?

What did he really want with her?

She licked her lips slowly, trying not to
reveal her escalating anxiety. Should she confront him or just play
along?

What difference would it make in the long
run?

“Okay. What are you thinking now? Somehow I
doubt this one’s going to make me laugh.”

He was standing, so she stood, dragging her
gaze to his. “Are you Job?”

Closing his eyes, he heaved an exasperated
sigh. “I thought we had this all settled. I am not Job and I have
no affiliation with those lunatics.”

“Your kidnapping me on the same day Job
warned me not to make him do something unconventional is just a
happy coincidence?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and
looked at her. The green material of his shirt stretched tight over
his nicely defined biceps. “Maybe we should have delved a bit
deeper into this topic before. What’s your connection to PURE? Is
that why the president wants you so badly? Are you already on the
inside?”

“Do you even have a daughter?” she
countered.

His large hand banded her arm and he led
her, rather forcefully, back into the bedroom. “You’re not as
observant as you think.” He nodded toward the picture mounted to
the left of the bed.

Surrounded by thick, green grass, sunshine
bright upon her face, sat a little girl. Her feet were bare and her
T-shirt bore the familiar Sinclair-Dietrich logo. The child’s
alabaster skin was shadowed with purple beneath her large,
thick-lashed brown eyes. Contained in two neat braids, her
golden-brown hair was only a shade or two lighter than her father’s
and her smile tilted at the same angle Marc’s had when Tuesday made
him laugh.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s dying!”

Marc hadn’t meant to say the words quite so
forcefully, but pain propelled them from his throat. Tuesday
flinched and took a step back. “Are you satisfied now? Will you
trade this little girl’s future for your own? Right now the
government wants to control you both. I’ve got the means to keep
them from controlling you, and you—”

“The picture could be faked. Vidcom her. I
want to see her.”

He closed his eyes and started counting.

Why wouldn’t she be reasonable? Why was she
making everything so much harder than it needed to be? He
hesitated. Could he control the situation if he allowed such a
call? Phil would wring his neck.

Slowly opening his eyes, he stared at her.
“If I thought far enough ahead to plant the picture, I could just
as easily have planted a video file.”

“Not an interactive one. I want to talk to
her.”

“Not a chance!” What was this about?
“Why?”

She shook her head, setting all those
strawberry curls to dancing. “What you’re asking me to do is
illegal, buddy. I don’t think asking to meet the patient is too
much to expect.”

Raking both hands through his hair, he
started toward the other side of the bed. Was that all there was to
it? Her emotions were so convoluted he couldn’t begin to unravel
them. “Fine. You can talk to Elise, but you have to send a text
message to Vonne Lucero first.”

“Forever negotiating?”

He opened the nightstand with his security
code and pulled out his vidcom. “I want General Lapdog off my back.
Tell your boss you checked into whatever hotel you were supposed to
check into and everything is a-okay. Then, I’ll contact Elise.”

“How long have you been spying on us? Did
you tap into the mediplex security directly or plant your own
bugs?”

He just smiled. She held out her hand for
the vidcom, but he shook his head. “Give me her number, I’ll key in
the message.”

Narrowing to glistening slits of green, her
gaze spoke eloquently of her displeasure. In a tense, resentful
voice she told him the number and Marc did the rest. Then, he
entered his home number and raised the device to his ear. “Hi,
Laura, it’s Marc. Is she awake? Sure, I’ll wait.”

“Who’s Laura?”

None of your damn business.
It was
the answer she deserved! “Elise’s nurse.”

She accepted the explanation with a silent
nod. Was she starting to see how impossible this had been for him?
Starting to sense…

“Hi, Daddy.”

Elise sounded breathless—frail. His chest
compressed painfully, his heart desperate to beat for both of them.
“Hi, sweetheart. Laura told me you’ve had a time of it today.”
Moving the handset away from his ear, he switched it to speaker
mode and stalked toward Tuesday, challenging her with his eyes.

“She put me on bypass. I have to just lie
here for hours, Daddy. I’ll go insane!”

“If she doesn’t put you on bypass when your
numbers go that high, you’ll end up back in the hospital. Talk
about lying around for hours with nothing to do. Listen,
sweetheart, I’m with a friend and she didn’t realize I had a
daughter. She’d like to say hello. You okay with that?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Shifting the device in front of him so
Tuesday could see the display, he activated video, without
relinquishing control.

“Dad! You didn’t say anything about
video!”

Elise looked positively wretched, and for
once in his life, Marc was thankful. Her thin body made a barely
discernible mound in her bed. She’d yanked the covers up past her
chin. All that remained was her emaciated face and her too-thin
fingers.

“Sorry. This is my friend. We were—”

“But Dad…” She wheezed and coughed. “Daddy,
that’s Tuesday Fitzpatrick.”

Shit! He hadn’t considered that Elise might
recognize her. Tuesday looked nearly as startled as his
daughter.

“Hi, Elise,” Tuesday greeted. “It’s nice to
meet you. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, relax. Get some
rest.”

Knowing Laura was never far away, he
deactivated video, but Elise’s voice continued in a passionate
rush. “Daddy does this mean…is Ms. Fitzpatrick going to give me one
of her hearts? I thought you said it wasn’t up to her. I
thought—”

“Elise has had a hard day, Mr.
Sinclair!”

The second he heard Laura’s angry voice, he
frantically cut off the speaker. She always addressed him formally
when she was pissed off. Had Tuesday heard his name? This just went
from bad to worse.

He raised the handset to his ear. “I
apologize. I didn’t mean to upset—”

“How could she not be upset?” Laura railed.
“You’re dangling her dreams before her like candy on a string!”

“Laura, please calm down. I am not with
Tuesday Fitzpatrick.”

“You’re supposed to be relaxing. Who the
hell are you with?”

He’d never tolerate insubordination in any
other employee, but Laura was not only Elise’s nurse, she was
family. “She’s a friend, Laura, nothing more. I hadn’t seen her in
years, so she dropped by my hotel to catch up. She’s happily
married with two kids.”

“Well, what was this about Tuesday
Fitzpatrick? I’ve never seen Elise so upset.”

“My friend has a similar hair color, that’s
all. Elise saw what she—”

“She saw what she has dreamed about her
entire life! You have to be more sensitive to her needs. What were
you thinking?”

Infuriated by the irony, Marc glared at his
reluctant companion. “I didn’t think—”

“Obviously! I apologize for my lack of
respect, but this was just plain stupid. I’ll speak with you
later.”

She disconnected.

He tossed the vidcom in the nightstand
drawer and locked it, hoping the distraction would cool his temper.
It didn’t.

Tuesday stood at the foot of his bed, her
face devoid of expression, while her fingers reflexively crumpled
the material of her dress. Emotions seethed below the surface—pity,
anger, regret. Still, her outward calm frustrated him. “Are you
satisfied?” he sneered.

“Satisfied?” Her jaw dropped and fire leapt
within her eyes. “I’m not the one who started this! You kidnapped
me! If your daughter is upset right now, you have no one to blame
but…”

He took a menacing step toward her, cutting
short her angry tirade. “Do you realize what this will do to her if
we fail? Not only will you condemn her body, but it will crush her
spirit.”

“I didn’t condemn her to anything, asshole!
You’re the one who took Methuselah!”

“Fine! I’m an asshole, but Elise is
completely innocent in all of this. We have to help her! We have to
find a way.”

Each impassioned plea penetrated a little
more. Tuesday retreated into her professional reserve, but the
child’s face pursued her ruthlessly. Those huge, illness-sunken
eyes stared back, luminous with hope and expectation.

“I’m not God,” she whispered. “I…”

“You are to Elise.”

His warm hands closed around her upper arms,
his strangely beautiful gaze burned into hers, demanding things she
didn’t understand, stirring feelings she wasn’t ready to feel.
“I’ll do what I can.”

“Not good enough!”

Tension built within her, tightening and
twisting until she wanted to scream, had to lash out. She hit his
chest. He ignored her. “What do you want me to do?” she demanded.
“I’m not a surgeon. I can’t grab one off the shelf and install it
on your kitchen table!”

He moved closer.

Tears blurred her vision. She blinked
furiously.

“She needs you, Tuesday.” His voice, rough
with emotion and determination played across her senses, like a
physical touch. “You’re her only hope.”

Hope!

Damn him. Those haunted eyes, in that
delicate face… Tuesday sobbed. Her tears escaped. “I’ll—try.”

“Not good enough.” His tone was gentle now.
He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. His
lips touched the corner of her mouth.

No! Not now. This wasn’t fair. Her emotions
were too raw. She couldn’t resist his tenderness.

Everything within her that was feminine and
soft pulsed to life…yearning. He was masculine and strong—and just
a touch away.

“I’ll—”

He cut off her words with his mouth,
wrapping her firmly in his arms. She opened for him, hungry, yet
vulnerable. He wanted too much, expected too much. She couldn’t
think when he touched her. Didn’t want to think. Trembling, she
sank her fingers into his thick hair and ventured into his mouth
with her tongue.

This was madness. She was falling into his
trap, allowing him to manipulate her.

It had been years since she felt truly
alive. How had he known where to strike? It was almost as if… She’d
heard the rumors, everyone had heard about the experiments. Was it
possible? Could Marc be a genetic anomaly, able to sense her
emotions and hear her thoughts?

“Marc.” She sighed his name as his mouth
moved to the underside of her jaw. “You don’t have to do this.” His
hand cupped her breast and she instinctively arched into the touch,
needing it so badly she trembled.

“This isn’t…like that.” His moist breath
fanned her skin, sending tingles spiraling deep into her body. “I
want to touch you. No, I need this.”

Part of her still suspected he was just
telling her what she wanted to hear, but his thumb found her nipple
and she no longer cared. She felt alive! She felt desired. She
felt
.

He slipped her zipper down and pulled her
dress along her arms, trapping her elbows against her waist. The
deep rose lace of her bra offset her ivory skin. A sound
suspiciously like a growl escaped his throat. He traced the
scalloped edge of the bra with just his fingertip, then spiraled
inward until he circled her nipple. It tingled and tightened
against the lace. The gentle abrading made her want to squirm, but
she held perfectly still, enjoying every nuance of sensation.

He cupped her breast again, the heat of his
palm searing her skin with so little left between them.

Suddenly, she caught his wrist. “Marc, I
don’t want you to do this if… I don’t want… I mean I do, but—”

He put his finger over her lips. “Don’t.
Don’t think. Don’t rationalize. Just feel. For once in your life,
just let yourself feel.”

And she felt. She felt the subtle tightening
and then the merciful release as he unfastened her bra. She felt
his heated breath against her shoulder as he guided her arms from
the wide straps of her sundress, and finally the tantalizing glide
of his mouth against her collarbone.

“Your breasts are unbelievable,” he
whispered, his tongue stroking the silken curve. “It should be a
crime to cover them up.” He chuckled. “With anything but my
hands…or my mouth.”

His hands caressed, cupping and squeezing,
stroking and lifting her breasts, while she whimpered in needful
urgency. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she guided his mouth to
her nipple. He happily obliged, drawing upon it firmly, then
catching it between his teeth. She cried out, but the pressure
stopped well short of pain.

“Please.” She was shocked by the demand in
her own voice.

“Please stop or please more?”

Trembling, she wrapped her arms around him.
If she let this go any further, this gorgeous man would peel down
her dress and see her fleshy hips and round thighs, her…but she
ached like she’d never ached before.

“Everything about this is wrong,” she
whispered. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Marc gently pushed her to arm’s length,
searching her flushed face, confounded. “My name is not what’s
bothering you. You’re afraid of something. I won’t get you
pregnant. Is that what you’re worried about?” She shook her head.
“I’d never hurt you, Tuesday. If you aren’t enjoying this, let’s
stop.”