Already unsure of what had happened between them and what it meant. Where it would lead them.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sensing the tension in her.
“I don’t know. Am I?” she answered honestly.
CHAPTER 20
Whittaker paced before the assorted cages, pleased with what he was seeing. The patients seemed more responsive. Even the patient who had been nearly catatonic a few days before was alert, although still abed. His breathing was labored, and as Whittaker reached through and touched his skin, he marveled at the hardness of it and the muscle beneath.
Hard like bone. Maybe as hard as Bradford would become if his condition progressed and none of their treatments were effective.
As he strode past the patients with Shaw’s gene combo, some of them changed color before his eyes. Fear or flight response still, he thought, hoping that they might be able to master control over the color change much like Shaw had.
Edwards and Morales had indicated to him that on at least two occasions Caterina had been able to blend into her environs using the skin camouflage. They had also sold another patient—or rather, it was better to say their genetically modified organism—for a hefty sum, and the GMO had performed perfectly.
Unfortunately that other GMO was now useless bits and pieces in an army morgue after her buyers had detonated the bomb-laden vest she had worn inside the Iraqi Green Zone.
The success of that particular mission had made the product Edwards and Morales had developed quite desirable in certain circles and brought it to his attention.
His black-ops group was well known in those venues, and having access to the GMOs in addition to the availability of it for his men was worth every penny he had invested.
Or should he say every million he had invested?
He walked back to where Edwards and Morales were standing beside Howard. His man was at ease, hands held before him. Body erect and mind alert in case action was needed.
The perfect soldier, still.
The perfect candidate for modification.
“The inhibitor seems to be working well,” Whittaker said as he came to stand before them.
Morales nodded. “Combined with the plasmapheresis, we’ve satisfactorily contained the replication in most of the patients.”
“It’ll take some time, however, to produce enough of the inhibitor to provide the patients with another round of treatments,” Edwards indicated.
“How much time?” Whittaker prompted, wondering if in the meantime he would have to secure yet another batch from the annoying Dr. Carrera.
“Possibly too long,” Morales admitted.
“Thank you, Doctor. I’m grateful for your truthfulness,” he said. Knowing the limits allowed him to know how much longer he had to deal with Bradford and Carrera, who were increasingly trying his patience.
“But it will take even longer to develop something to deal with situations similar to Bradford’s,” Morales also confessed.
Whittaker glanced at Howard, who had been standing resolutely by the two scientists during the discussion. “You understand the consequences? Until we can find a way to control Bradford’s replication—”
“I’ll get stronger. Denser,” Howard intoned, voice devoid of emotion.
And more able to control Bradford, Whittaker thought. Howard had not liked being overpowered by the other man earlier that night.
“It may take some time for the changes to occur. In Bradford it took several weeks for the foreign gene fragments to become sufficiently incorporated into his native DNA to make any impact,” Edwards explained.
Weeks to implement, but in months the results would be amazing, Whittaker thought, recalling the force of Bradford’s blow. Almost absentmindedly he ran his hands across his ribs, which still ached from the contact. It had been like being hit with a battering ram.
With a team of such men, there wouldn’t be a mission they couldn’t complete. All they had to do was get the changes under control.
“I understand, Dr. Edwards,” Howard replied and methodically began removing his suit jacket and shirt.
Edwards gestured to the stainless steel table just a few feet away. “You’ll have to remove your pants and briefs, as well.”
With a slight incline of his head to note his assent, Howard stripped until he was naked, tidily folding his clothes along the way into a neat pile he placed on a chair beside the table.
Morales picked up a long, corkscrew-like probe from the surgical tray holding an assortment of gleaming steel instruments.
“If you would be so kind as to lie facedown on the table,” Morales said to Howard, who immediately complied, lying on his stomach but with his face turned toward Whittaker.
Stoic, as the two doctors converged on him.
Edwards jabbed a needle into an area close to the smooth dimple in Howard’s back. After he did so, he grabbed a scalpel from the surgical tray and made a small incision.
Morales approached with a test tube bearing something green and glowing. He handed it to Edwards, who sucked up a syringe full of the liquid.
Whittaker pointed to the test tube. “Is that it?”
Edwards affirmed it with a nod. “These are the DNA strands we’ve isolated and tagged with green fluorescent proteins. The proteins will help us gauge how well the genes are recombining with the DNA in Mr. Howard’s bone marrow.”
Morales inserted the corkscrew probe into the incision and pressed inward.
Barely a flinch traveled across Howard’s face as Morales bored into bone. A second later Edwards was inserting the tip of the syringe into the incision and pressing inward, finding the channel between the probe and bone. Depressing the plunger to plant the GFP-laden DNA.
As soon as the syringe was emptied, both scientists retracted their instruments and closed the incision.
“Is that all?” Howard asked.
“What do you mean?” Edwards questioned as Howard rolled over onto his back and leaned on one elbow.
“If you put it somewhere else, will the change happen faster?”
An uneasy smile crept across Edwards’s face, but Morales’s showed no similar concern. “The long bones are excellent spots for bone marrow production.”
Howard glanced toward him, as if asking permission, not that Whittaker would deny him. What did he care if Howard wanted to fuck up his body for the good of the cause?
“I’m game,” Howard replied and leaned back down onto the table.
“Femur?” Morales said, arching a brow and peering at his partner.
Once again a moment of discomfort flared across Edwards’s face, but then, with a nod, he reached behind him and prepared for the new procedure.
“Excellent,” Whittaker said. The faster Howard developed, the sooner he could get rid of complications like Bradford and Carrera.
CHAPTER 21
Jesse turned and his knee grazed her leg. He raised his hand and brushed aside her hair. Her brown-eyed gaze flickered to his face as her hands rubbed once, then twice, across the fabric of her pants.
Everything about her communicated her nervousness, and he understood. He suspected Liliana wasn’t the kind to just jump into bed with a man, much less a man who was also her patient.
And a man who was lying to her via the sin of omission.
Guilt wrenched his gut into a knot tighter than that of his earlier desire. Seeking to alleviate that guilt and her anxiety, he dug his hand beneath the thick wealth of her hair and encircled her neck with his hand. Gently, he stroked his thumb along the sensitive skin at her throat.
“It was very special for me,” he said, the tones of his voice low and intimate. Even more so when he leaned a bit closer and repeated, “Very special.”
Beneath his thumb came a jumpy swallow. “It was special for me, as well.”
“Then let’s not second-guess why it happened and be grateful that it did,” he replied, wanting for the discomfort of the moment after to be gone and replaced by the earlier connec
tion that had driven them to making love.
Making love, he thought, suddenly certain that it had been that and not just sex.
Special, he thought again, and for good measure, he bent and kissed her. Hesitantly. Tenderly. The kiss undemanding and caring.
Tension fled her body with the kiss. He eased his hand from her neck as he withdrew from the homecoming of her lips. If he lingered there too long, he might find himself picking her up and taking her back to the bed.
Instead Jesse leaned back on the arm of the sofa, dragging her against him to lie down along his length. Rubbing her back gently, he said, “You had a long day. You must be tired.”
“A little,” she confessed, her earlier anxiety slowly leaving her body.
“Being a doctor can be tough. Long hours. Lots of work,” he said.
“I can handle it,” she said, a note of defensiveness arising in her voice.
“I’m sure you can,” he replied, and he cradled her chin and gently urged her face upward. “You’re a very strong woman.”
Before she had gotten to know him, Liliana might have said that he was putting the moves on her. Now she had little doubt about his sincerity or about his own strength of character.
“So are you. Strong, and not just physically.”
He released a sigh as uncertainty flared across his face. “I wish I had been stronger. More reasonable. Then maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
She understood, and yet…
“But then we wouldn’t have met.”
He brought his lips close to hers and whispered, “And that would have been the greater sin.”
He kissed her, and that simple touch of lip to lip conveyed so much more than words could have alone. Love. Despair. Need. Promise. The kiss was filled with all that was and all that could be.
When they broke apart, Jesse said, “One day this will all seem unreal. Things will be back to normal. You’ll be back at the hospital.”
“And you’ll be…” she said, anxiously waiting for his reply.
“Coaching football. Maybe in high school.”
She recalled her challenge to him the other day that he stop living in the past. His answer now confirmed that maybe he had. That he was thinking for the future instead of holding on to what-might-have-beens.
“Sounds like a good plan. Would you stay here? In the area?”
“How else could we keep on seeing each other?” he teased, but she sensed it was half serious to test the waters.
Tempted to respond that she would offer his team a discount on physicals, she instead tilted her head upward until her lips were once again within kissing distance.
“I’d like to keep on seeing you. Have you meet my family,” she replied.
The strong line of his smile brushed across her mouth and he murmured, “Do you think they’ll approve of me?”
A loud knock came at the door, and they bolted apart as Bruno entered without warning.
“Ever hear of knocking?” Jesse asked as he rose from the sofa, hands fisted at his sides.
“It’s okay.” Liliana rose and covered his hand with hers. He relaxed at her touch, reassuring her that he was capable of control.
“Whittaker called. They think they found another patient,” Bruno advised.
Another Wardwell escapee?
Excitement raced through Liliana at the possibility that they would soon find all of the patients and free them.
“Where is—”
“Back at your lab. Whittaker wants you to meet him there. He says it’s urgent.”
Liliana looked up at Jesse apologetically, regretting that she had to leave him so soon. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
Jesse twined his fingers with hers and squeezed gently. He had known all night that she would eventually have to go, but it didn’t make the leaving any easier. Especially after the too-short encounter they had shared.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said and watched her depart. Observed Bruno eyeing her appreciatively as she walked out the door.
When Bruno returned his attention to Jesse, his guard said, “You better not get too close to the doc. Don’t want to break her heart when you go.”
Before Jesse could reply, Bruno exited, closing the door behind him but leaving behind the cryptic words.
When you go.
Was Whittaker planning on taking him somewhere? Had he gotten whatever he wanted from Liliana? If he had, would he keep his promise to help Jackie?
Dozens of questions raced through his brain as he paced back and forth in his room, feeling more like a caged animal than ever before. Finally it was more than he could bear.
He headed to the kitchen, where Bruno was reading the paper as usual.
He lowered it as Jesse entered, watched over the page’s edge as Jesse went to the fridge. After Jesse grabbed a soda and faced him, Bruno finally brought the paper down to his lap.
“What did you mean by ‘when I go’?”
Bruno shrugged. “Boss man’s giving the doc another patient to work on. He got the drugs he wanted, and you’re a pain in the ass.”
Which meant that in Bruno’s mind he was expendable, but had Whittaker reached the same conclusion?
He eyed the other man. It wouldn’t take much to overpower him. Hell, he had nearly gotten past three of them earlier that night. And as sore as his body was, he wouldn’t go down easy if Whittaker decided to take him out.
But there was one thing… no, make that two things that kept him from escaping Bruno right then and there.
His sister and Liliana.
Until he knew Whittaker’s plans for them, he would have to sacrifice his own freedom.
Bruno must not have liked how Jesse was eyeing him, since he slipped his hand beneath his jacket, confirming his gun was in easy reach.
“No need, Bruno. I’m not going to cause any more trouble.”
Not yet, anyway, he thought as he left the room.
CHAPTER 22
A cold knot of fear gripped Liliana’s insides as she assessed the patient lying on the examination table.
Carmen stood across from her, face pale.
The patient was human—or at least he had been at one time. Almost his entire body was covered with what appeared to be an exoskeleton of bone. Only a few patches of human skin remained on his body and face.
The patient’s breath rasped in and out of his chest, barely lifting it, as if battling a heavy weight.
Liliana wondered how far the ossification extended. Were his organs likewise being infiltrated?
She leaned over the patient and his eyes fluttered open. Still human. Pleading.
For what? she wondered. A cure, or the peace of death?
“Where did you find him?” She looked over her shoulder to where Whittaker stood by the door beside Howard, who seemed a little pale himself.
“Local police got a report of a body along the side of the road. Called us when they noted his condition. Haven’t confirmed it yet, but I think he’s one of the Wardwell patients,” Whittaker lied. He was well aware that it was one of the original patients, because he and Howard had taken him from Morales’s lab earlier in the day.
“It looks like what’s happening with Jesse,” Carmen said, sending another skitter of fear through Liliana.
As her friend noted her reaction, she quickly added, “But we’ve got Jesse under control. Not like this.”
No, not like this, Liliana thought, slipping on her stethoscope to listen to the man’s heartbeat and lungs. The heartbeat was sluggish. Labored like his breathing.
She yanked off the stethoscope. “Let’s get him on oxygen. Get a blood sample.”
“What about a bone marrow plug?” Carmen asked even as she was setting up the monitoring equipment.
Liliana wheeled over a respirator and eased the mask over his face. Immediately his breathing grew less stressful.
“Let’s wait on the marrow until we can get him to the hospital,” she said and prepped an IV. What
remained of the human parts of the man’s eyes, skin, and lips were showing extreme signs of dehydration.
“I’m not sure that’s going to be possible,” Whittaker advised, but this time Liliana wasn’t going to settle for that answer.
“This man is critical,” she said, motioning to the patient. “If you’re worried about people nosing around, we can arrange for him to be placed in quarantine.”
“If you can accomplish that, I may be amenable to moving him,” Whittaker replied, surprising her. She had been expecting more of a battle. His easy surrender raised her antenna about his real agenda.
“I’ll make the arrangements.”
She left the room to make the necessary calls to the hospital, including an ambulance for transporting the patient. It made her wonder why he had been brought to the lab in the first place. When she had finished making all the arrangements with the hospital, she phoned her cousin Ramon.
He immediately answered. “No news yet, Lil.”
“No news? As in, you haven’t been able to find out anything about Whittaker and his men?”
“Nothing. None of the local branches are claiming him. Of course, he could be part of some secret unit,” Ramon advised.
Liliana could picture Whittaker running some kind of clandestine operation, but it still worried her that none of the local Feds knew of him. Maybe if she had a picture of him, only…
“Wait a second, Ramon.”
She raced to her desk and woke her desktop from its hibernated state. Because they had to share data in an assortment of ways, the computers had been networked to be operated remotely. Using the remote desktop connection, she accessed Carmen’s laptop out on the worktable. Engaging the webcam on the unit, she was able to see to where Whittaker and Howard stood by the door.
Luckily the faces of the two men were visible to the camera, and with a few quick keystrokes, she snapped off a bunch of photos and saved them to the hard drive.
“I’m e-mailing you pictures of the agents. Maybe that will help,” she said.
“Just got them. I’ll use them to ask around,” Ramon confirmed.
Stronger than Sin (Sin Hunters) Page 16