Tainted Hearts (8 page)

“I haven’t… It’s not just my face. My body
hasn’t been cosmetically enhanced either.”

She sounded so utterly miserable, Marc
wasn’t sure he understood what she meant. Gently cupping one
breast, he said, “There’s no need for enhancement.”

If anything, she only looked more miserable.
“Nature wasn’t quite so kind with the rest of me.”

“Tuesday.” He stepped back and swept her
from head to foot with a slow assessing stare. “What the hell are
you talking about?”

Crossing her arms over her breasts, she
stared back at him silently.

“Your legs are long, your hips are nicely
rounded, and from what I could see when you were on all fours,
there is certainly nothing wrong with your ass, so what is—”

“My thighs wiggle, my hips are fleshy, my
stomach makes me look pregnant, and my—butt is fat.”

“With your vast knowledge of the female
anatomy…” He laughed. “Guess you do have a vast knowledge of
anatomy, but I’m more qualified to judge the appeal of female
anatomy, so why don’t you let me determine if I find your—butt fat
or not.”

She slipped her arms into the straps of her
dress and Marc wanted to howl. “How about if I tell you how I’m
going to save your daughter, instead?”

Smart lady. His body would have been much
happier with a truly dumb blonde right about now. Tuesday
Fitzpatrick was…complicated.

“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed. “I don’t see
why we can’t have the conversation naked, but I do like the
topic.”

She smiled and moved toward the door. Her
glorious breasts swayed subtly and he realized her bra lay on the
floor at the foot of the bed.

His already pounding erection just about
buckled his knees.

A shrill perimeter alarm signaled an
unscheduled arrival. Phil Carey turned to the security screen,
which monitored the secluded shuttle lot. He armed the external
pulse array without moving his gaze from the monitor.

From the outside, his headquarters appeared
to be a ramshackle warehouse, indistinguishable from the myriad
buildings crowding the industrial sector of the city.

A common, unmarked shuttle landed. He
reached for the transmitter, meaning to warn the trespasser they’d
put down in a private lot. The side hatch opened and Elijah James
climbed down.

What was he doing here? His current
assignment as “Elihu”, Job’s lieutenant was perhaps the most
dangerous Elijah had ever undertaken. Elijah was much too
experienced to risk exposure without good reason. Something must
have gone wrong at the Tower of Babel.

Elijah disappeared into the adjacent
building. An underground passage connected the two. Having no one
enter or exit directly reinforced the illusion that Phil’s building
was abandoned.

Phil met Elijah as he emerged from the
security passage.

“Sixteen months of groveling and kissing
that pompous weasel’s ass and she blows it all in one fell
swoop.”

If the young man’s florid face was any
indication, he needed a minute to regain his composure. “Let’s take
this to my office. I still have scans to run.”

Elijah followed him silently down the
concrete corridor. Exposed pipes and mildewed cracks completed the
dismal setting. Phil pushed open his office door and motioned for
his subordinate to precede him.

Beyond the simple threshold, Phil’s spacious
office awaited like an oasis in the desert. Comfortable, clean, and
painstakingly organized, the room revealed more about Phil than he
cared to admit.

Elijah looked around in silent awe. “You’ve
added a toy or two since the last time I came down here.”

“Our current employer is generous in the
extreme.”

Elijah scoffed. “Sinclair owes you his life.
Suck all the blood money you can out of that bastard.”

“Maybe it’s best you’re out.” Phil studied
him through narrowed eyes. “You’re starting to sound like one of
them.”

Elijah slipped his hand into the pocket of
his uniform pants and moved farther into the room. A faint bruise
discolored his jaw. Tension twisted inside Phil. Had Elijah blown
his cover?

“What happened?”

“So many of the PURE concepts make perfect
sense on the surface.”

“Survival of the fittest, redemptive
purging, Job’s propaganda isn’t even original.” Phil dismissed the
nonsense with a wave of his hand. “Where does he think you are and
who were you referring to in the corridor?”

“Working my way into Job’s confidence has
been time consuming and demeaning in ways I’ll never explain. But
I’m there. He trusts me implicitly and tells me everything.”

Phil pulled out a chair and sat. Elijah
paced the short distance between the control console and the door.
“If you’ve achieved your objectives, why are you upset?”

“Three weeks ago I was sent out on
recruitment detail with several other disciples. I had no choice
but to act the part and I found a woman who seemed more than
willing.”

“You knew sexual interaction might become
necessary when you accepted this assignment. Has the woman proven
to be difficult? I still don’t see the problem.”

Elijah huffed and plopped down in a chair
facing Phil. “I screwed up, Phil. This whole day has been a comedy
of errors. Job has developed an interest in Tuesday Fitzpatrick.
Interest, hell, it’s an obsession. He told me—”

“Did you say Tuesday Fitzpatrick? Mr.
Sinclair asked me earlier if Job had shown any interest in her. Why
didn’t you report this to me? How many times have I told you that
nothing is incidental?”

Elijah crossed his legs, his hands clenching
around the arms of the chair. “He has me run background checks on
all sorts of people. I included her in my last report.”

Elijah was meticulous. The documentation was
doubtlessly there. It was only Marc’s request for information that
brought Tuesday to mind. “Go on. How did you screw up and what do
we need to do to reestablish Job’s trust in you?”

“It’s complicated. Job ordered me to bring
Tuesday to him. I guess he’s tried to contact her and she’s playing
hard to get. He sent me to arrange a meeting.”

“With or without her consent?”

Without responding to the question, Elijah
went on. “Her schedule indicated she had a meeting with the
Sinclair-Dietrich team and the shuttle always uses a rooftop pad.
It’s more secluded and easier to access than the departure ring at
the mediplex, so I set up at SD Towers. She boarded the shuttle,
but the damn thing didn’t follow its flight plan. I have no idea
where she went.”

Phil chuckled. This was getting interesting.
Had Marc taken an uninvited guest to his hunting lodge? Why? She
wouldn’t recognize him with his recent facial enhancements. Phil
gave a mental shrug. Perhaps that was the point.

Elijah’s gaze narrowed. “Do you know where
she is?”

“I might. Why does Job want her?”

“This is where it gets really strange. Job
decided to use my trainee to punish me. He all but bent her over
his desk and made me watch.”

“How did your trainee react? Were you able
to intervene?”

“I was prepared to. I tried to, but she was
into it. I think it’s what she wanted all along. It was obvious she
was using me to get to Job. So, I just played along.”

“You left her with him?” Tension gripped
Phil’s stomach. This wasn’t good. If half the reports he’d
uncovered were true, this girl was in serious trouble. “Should I
arrange an extraction?” She wasn’t technically his responsibility,
but one of his men had recruited her.

“Not yet. There’s something odd about the
whole thing. She seemed like the average desperate outcast when I
recruited her, but over and over I’ve sensed something different,
something more. She has a definite agenda.”

This caught Phil’s attention. The
disenfranchised flocked to freaks like Job. “What exactly did you
sense?” Elijah’s empathic abilities were minimal at best. Still,
what he did pick up tended to be accurate.

He shrugged, frustration heightening his
color. “She was always guarded. Then, fury would spike when she
thought no one was paying attention. She played me, Phil, offered
herself to Job while I went off to redeem myself. We don’t need to
do anything. She’s right where she wants to be.”

“Any chance she could be an operative?”

Elijah shook his head, dismissing the
possibility. “She might be wily, but Rahab’s just a kid.”

“Rahab?” Phil about choked on the name. “Do
you know her real name? Who decided to call her Rahab?”

“Does that mean something to you? Everyone
in the stronghold takes on biblical names. There are hundreds of
Marys and I know of at least two other Rahabs.”

Phil said nothing for a long moment. It had
to be a coincidence. What would Raeanne Rawsen be doing in the PURE
stronghold? “Describe her to me.”

“Medium height, maybe a little less. She
looks tiny at first glance, but she’s toned, athletic. Long dark
hair, big brown eyes.”

The body type was right, but Raeanne’s eyes
were blue. Besides, wouldn’t Elijah have recognized her? The
tragedy had been fodder for the tabloids for almost a year. He
shook away the speculation. He’d have to do some digging.

“You can crash here tonight,” he told the
younger man. “I’ll contact Mr. Sinclair and find out more about his
interest in Tuesday. I have an old army buddy who can probably help
us find out more about Rahab. Just give me an hour or two.”

“I know I shouldn’t have come here. I just
didn’t know what else to do. She damn near blew my cover and I
still need to produce Tuesday if I intend to go back in.”

“One step at a time,
Elihu
. One step
at a time.”

Tuesday collapsed onto a kitchen chair and
covered her face with her hands. She had to get away from her
captor! The nobility of his quest made him far more dangerous than
any of Job’s fanatical followers. Marc would do whatever it took to
save his daughter’s life. She knew that now. How could he not? How
could any parent look into Elise’s wide, dark eyes and not resolve
to move Heaven and Earth, make any sacrifice to ease her pain?

“So what’s your plan?”

Lowering her hands to the table, she found
Marc seated across from her. He sure moved quietly for such a big
man. What had he looked like before his enhancements? Why did he
seem so…familiar? It didn’t matter. She had to focus on the task at
hand, convincing him she had a plan.

“The second generation is ready for human
testing,” she began.

“You’re not using Elise as a guinea pig.
That’s not the deal.”

“Hear me out. There have always been two
minor problems with the SP-64. The first is more a vulnerability
than a problem and we’re still working on a failsafe. The second is
a slight, intermittent malfunction with the valves. The
self-rerouting feature compensates for any failure, but it’s
troubling nonetheless. We’ve solved the problem in the SP-65. It
performed flawlessly in the animal tests and CPT just received a
ten-patient permit for human installation. The problem is, because
the SP-64 is performing so well, we haven’t been able to convince
anyone to volunteer.”

“Why risk the unknown when there’s a proven
product already in existence.”

“Exactly.” She interlaced her fingers while
possibilities rolled through her mind. Everything she said was
true. She’d begun the tale only to shift his focus from seducing
her, but why not slot Elise for one of the SP-65s? It was a
mutually beneficial proposition.

Because you’re giving in to the demands of a
kidnapper.

No, you’re saving a little girl.

“Is any of this true?” Suspicion etched his
tone and again she wondered at his flawless insight. Even if she
asked him if he was empathic, why would he admit it?

Scooting her chair closer to the table, she
looked him in the eyes. “Every word.”

“Is it possible?”

“That’s the more complicated question. It’s
possible to install a SP-65 in Elise, but when, where, who would
perform the procedure? A conventional hospital is out, way too many
variables. I’ll tell Vonne I found our first volunteer. She’ll be
thrilled. Still, I have to have a reason why you want to remain
anonymous.”

He fidgeted, combed his hair off his
forehead with his fingers. “Tell her…oh, to hell with it. My
biggest fear when I decided to do this was that you’d recognize me.
I think you suspected my face had changed because you remembered my
voice.”

“I know you?”

“We’ve vidconferenced for years, Ms.
Fitzpatrick. I even asked you to dance at the fundraiser for the
Methuselah Foundation last spring. You politely turned me
down.”

His hair. He hadn’t changed his hair. And
that crooked smile. Why hadn’t she realized it sooner? “Mr.
Sinclair?”

“Edward Marcus Sinclair,” he confirmed. “My
friends really do call me Marc.”

Speechless, she visually searched his
enhanced features for any sign of the man she knew. He looked at
least ten years younger. The subtle sophistication was gone,
glitzed over with trendy flair and vivid color.

She much preferred his natural
appearance.

“Was there a reason for the change?”

He shrugged. “Midlife crisis.”

Annoyed by his nonchalance, she crossed her
arms under her breasts and glared. “You looked ten years younger
than you actually are before this change. Now you look
twenty-five.”

“Well, you look good enough to eat with your
breasts all propped up like that.” His heated gaze added credence
to his words. “Do you want to talk or shall we play?”

With a little yelp, she uncrossed her arms.
Marcus Sinclair. She’d been kidnapped by Marcus Sinclair. A
convoluted mixture of excitement and dread muddled her emotions.
His father was technically CEO, but everyone knew who ran
Sinclair-Dietrich. The eldest son—Marcus. He wasn’t just rich, and
politically connected, he could buy CPT with petty cash.