Stronger than Sin (Sin Hunters)

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Not even the chill wind blowing off the ocean could cool the rage churning inside him, creating dangerous heat at his core that needed relief.

  He entered his bedroom and tore off the sweatshirt and pants he had worn to sleep.

  They smelled of her. Womanly, with the faintest whiff of some kind of flowery fragrance. He hadn’t noticed that aroma at first. Only when he had buried his face in the side of her neck had the slightest hint of perfume teased him.

  He brought the shirt up to his face and inhaled deeply, imprinting her scent in his mind. Safeguarding it and the associated memories.

  Dressing in fresh fleece, he nearly skipped down the stairs in his haste to reach the gym and work out his anger and frustration.

  It was dark downstairs still, but at the sound of his footsteps, a light snapped on in the guest bedroom, where Whittaker’s men took turns sleeping.

  Howard stumbled to the door. His sandy blond hair was disheveled, sticking up in spots but matted in others as if drenched with sweat. The white T-shirt he wore was stained with light and dark spots that looked wet, and at midthigh, a rusty red blotch marred the leg of his gray sweatpants.

  He looked like shit, Jesse thought.

  And pissed off.

  Howard’s hazel-colored eyes glittered with an unusual light that penetrated the dimness in the hallway.

  “Mornin’,” Jesse said, trying to avoid a confrontation.

  Howard grunted and staggered back into the room.

  Jesse paused in the doorway as Howard fell onto the bed. The linens were in disarray, half off and on and twisted, as if he’d had a rough night. Judging from the way Howard lay staring up at the ceiling, almost distractedly, Jesse guessed this morning was not much better.

  Jesse sought out Bruno to tell him about Howard’s condition.

  He found the man in the kitchen, half asleep in one of the kitchen chairs. His eyes opened sluggishly at Jesse’s entry.

  “Dontcha ever sleep?” Bruno asked, annoyance in every syllable.

  “Howard is looking kinda punk.” Jesse jerked his hand, thumb extended, in the direction of the guest bedroom.

  “Boss man said not to worry. Thinks Howard caught some kind of bug at the hospital last night. That’s why I’m still on duty,” Bruno advised. He rose from his chair to switch from the dim cabinet accent lights that were on to the overhead spotlights, bathing the room in brightness.

  Jesse doubted it was just a simple bug but needed more to confirm his suspicions. Maybe when Liliana arrived…

  When Liliana arrived he intended to come clean, he thought, leaning his hand on the frame of the door as he wavered, exhausted both physically and emotionally.

  Bruno immediately jumped on it.

  “Are you okay?”

  Jesse shook his head to clear the slight wave of dizziness that had hit him. “Fine. Just a little woozy after last night.”

  Bruno rolled his eyes and pointed to his swollen nose. “I get it.”

  Jesse doubted Bruno understood but didn’t say. He headed toward the gym, where, with a measured pace, he did a circuit with the free weights, working past the pain in his side. When he was done, he jumped on the AMT machine, pushing on the pedals and arms in alternating paces, from a stair climb to a long running stride. He kept at it until heavy sweat rolled from his body and the pool of angry heat at his center had dissipated.

  Snagging a towel from a pile by the door, he dried his face and returned to his room for a shower, feeling energized but also in control.

  He knew he would need to keep in check when Liliana returned.

  In the shower, he ran soapy hands across his skin, recalling the feel of her touch. Flinching as he ran one hand over the bruised spot on his ribs where Howard had beaten him. Despite the pain, the bruise was a good sign. It was still tender and purplish. No sign of bone formation. Yet.

  He was hopeful that bone would not develop. With his other injuries, his body’s response had been almost immediate.

  Since the treatments of the other day, that had all changed. For how long he didn’t know, but he was grateful for even a short reprieve from the destruction being wrought on his body.

  He rinsed off, stepped out, and dried himself. Strode to the sink, where he checked the gash on his head. Beneath the butterfly bandages Liliana had applied, the injury was only just starting to knit.

  With a thankful sigh, he left the bathroom, but as he did so, Liliana walked into his room.

  He knew immediately from her face that trouble had arrived.

  CHAPTER 25

  Liliana had a stranglehold on the handle of her physician’s bag. Dark circles marred the skin beneath her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well.

  He understood.

  The winter chill had brought pink spots to her cheeks, but under that spot of color, her olive-toned skin was pale.

  All was not right.

  “Mornin’,” he said lamely, unsure of just how to start the day with her.

  Liliana was obviously not as unsure.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, Jesse?” She arched a brow for emphasis, reminding him of his mother when she had been about to punish him for being bad.

  And he had been bad with Liliana. Horrible, in fact. There was only one way to make it right.

  “I haven’t been totally honest with you,” he said and approached her, but she stepped back toward the closed door.

  “I would never hurt you,” he reminded, only she let out a harsh sigh and shook her head.

  “You already did.”

  She knew, he realized. There was no hiding the deception any longer. Which meant that more than their relationship was at stake. Her life was at risk if Whittaker found out.

  “You can’t even begin to understand what’s going on,” he said, hands outspread as he pled his case.

  “Try me, and while you’re at it, put on some clothes.”

  She flicked her hand at his nakedness, clearly disturbed by it. Or maybe she was distracted by it, a good thing to remember for the future.

  For right now he wanted her focused on what he would say.

  Snagging the sweatpants tossed on his bed, he jerked them on, then stood before her, hands on his hips as he fumbled for how to start. Raking his hand through his hair, he finally dragged the words from inside him.

  “I’d do anything for the people I care about,” he confessed.

  She swung her bag back and forth before she said, “If you care for me, how about starting with the truth?”

  Starting with the truth? He wasn’t even sure where to begin, much less where honesty came into the picture. So he just started at the beginning.

  “I didn’t plan on becoming a guinea pig when I signed up for the Wardwell treatments. I thought they would make my life better. Let me go back to playing football.”

  He blew out a harsh sigh and dug both his hands through his hair, dragging back the shorter strands and releasing them before returning his hands to his hips. Looking away from her condemning gaze, he continued.

  “For the past year I’ve been poked and prodded. Tortured. I would have done anything to be free, only…”

  Only he wouldn’t have traded his freedom for hurting someone he loved. But he hadn’t been given a choice.

  “Whittaker came into the picture about a month ago. Maybe he was involved all along, but I only found out about him recently,” he explained.

  “Whittaker freed you?” Liliana prompted.

  Jesse laughed harshly and shook his head. Held up his hands and motioned to everything around him. “If you can call being a captive in my own home free.”

  “But it’s better than being in a lab, isn’t it?” she challenged.

  “Yes, but being in a lab didn’t risk others. Didn’t risk my sister’s life. Or yours.”

  Liliana shook her head forcefully and her hair shifted violently with the motion. “I don’t get it.”

  Jesse spread his hands wide again, awkwardly circled them in the ai
r as he tried to explain. “When Whittaker arrived, he told me my sister was sick with a more aggressive form of what I have. He said that if I helped them, they would help cure her.”

  “But look at you,” Liliana said, gesturing to the ruined portions of his body.

  “They said you might have the way to control this.”

  She tapped her chest, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Me? I’m a novice at this. A rank amateur.”

  “But you had something they wanted—a new inhibitor. And they told me that might stop the damage,” he said and ran his hand down the large exoskeleton of bone on his ribs.

  Liliana tossed her bag onto the bed and strode away from him, pacing as she considered his words. Clearly upset. She finally faced him and once again pointed to herself. “What I know can’t help you, as much as I want it to. That inhibitor could kill you if it’s administered.”

  He didn’t doubt her.

  It hit him hard, as if he had been punched in the solar plexus. His knees wobbled and he sucked in a rough breath, took a step back, and sat on the bed as he considered her words.

  He had risked his life, his sister’s, and Liliana’s for nothing. Shaking his head, he mumbled, “I didn’t do it for myself. I did it for Jackie.”

  “How do you even know Whittaker is telling the truth about your sister? How could he know if she’s sick?”

  “I don’t know if he’s telling the truth, but if he was… Could I risk not helping her? I wanted for her to be well.”

  Liliana didn’t doubt that, but nothing that she did could help. She approached him, wanting to hold him, but she held back. “I wish there was something I could do, but the inhibitor isn’t the answer.”

  He nodded but averted his gaze, looking downward. “He said he would kill Jackie if I didn’t help. If I told anyone what was happening.” His head shot up, fear in his eyes. “Whittaker isn’t FBI, Liliana.”

  “I know, Jesse. My cousin is a police chief. I asked him to investigate Whittaker.”

  Jesse shook his head vehemently. “You can’t let him know that. You can’t tell Whittaker the inhibitor won’t work—”

  “It won’t work on you, Jesse. But it’ll work on other patients.”

  Relief washed over him. “That’s good. Some of them were in pretty tough shape.”

  “How many?” she asked, wondering at the number of Wardwell patients who were still alive.

  “Over a dozen,” he replied, surprising her.

  “A dozen? But there were only eight original—”

  “They started grabbing homeless people off the street. There were at least a dozen at my lab location,” he advised.

  “Your location? There’s more than one?” she asked, pacing before him as she considered his revelations.

  Jesse laid his hand on her hip to stop her nervous motion. “You can’t let Whittaker know. He’ll kill you and everyone in your lab.”

  She faced him, her features intense as she examined his face. “Is that why you lied to me?”

  “I had no choice, Liliana. I had to protect you and Jackie,” he pleaded and squeezed her hip tenderly, urging her closer.

  “I’m sorry,” he said and leaned his head against her midsection, submitting himself to her judgment.

  She had hoped he would have a reasonable explanation to justify his lies. His behavior was so humbling and his actions so selfless, they didn’t fail to touch her heart.

  Wanting to comfort him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dipped her head to rest along the top of his. “Don’t ever lie to me again.”

  His body shuddered against her with a massive release of emotion. “Never again. I promise.”

  Maybe it was foolish to rely on that vow, but sometimes risk was warranted due to the possible rewards.

  Jesse’s freedom.

  A cure for Jackie if she was in fact sick.

  Safety for herself, Carmen, and the others in the lab.

  Kneeling, she cupped his face in her hands and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek.

  “We need to plan, Jesse. We need to figure out what to do.”

  Jesse laid his hand on the side of her neck and rubbed his thumb along the line of her jaw. “We’ll do it together.”

  “Together,” Liliana said and sitting side by side, they formulated their strategy.

  CHAPTER 26

  The plan took on a life that neither of them expected.

  “Are you sure about this?” Jesse caressed the line of her jaw repeatedly as if to reassure himself she was still with him.

  “No, but I can’t think of any other way to keep everyone safe.”

  Everyone except the two of them.

  If they embarked on this course of action, they risked themselves, but as their gazes locked, Liliana knew he was set to act and so was she.

  “I’ll have your back, Liliana,” he reassured and teasingly added, “And maybe your front, as well.”

  She smiled as he had intended. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He grinned. “It’s why you love me.”

  Her smile wavered a bit, and he understood, even though it created a well of pain in the area of his heart. It was too soon to speak about love, especially when that fragile emotion had been birthed in a sea of lies.

  “It’s okay, Liliana. I won’t pressure you.”

  She nodded, and a watery glint collected in her eyes. “I care for you, but…”

  “I’m fine with whatever you want,” he urged again, and to silence any further protest, he kissed her. She was stiff at first but soon responded, her kiss confessing what she couldn’t with words.

  Liliana battled him. Battled herself, but it was a lost cause. She cared for him more than was possibly good.

  He had lied to her.

  But for good reasons, the voice inside her head countered. He was only trying to protect his sister. Watch over her, too. Except Liliana didn’t need his protection. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she thought, and withdrew from the kiss.

  “Liliana?” He ran his fingers down her cheek, almost pleading.

  “Not yet, Jesse.”

  With a slight nod of his head, he released her, earning her respect by honoring her wish.

  She rose and waved for him to stand. “I want to take a look at your injuries.”

  He did as she asked, held his arms up, which caused a slight hitch in his side.

  “Still sore?” She ran her hand across the bruise, palpating it gently as she did so.

  “Still sore, but that’s a good thing,” he said, peering downward to where her hand rested at his side.

  “A good thing,” she repeated, her mind clearly on something else for a moment before she tardily retreated her hand.

  “Something wrong?” He bent slightly so he could better read her face and what she was thinking.

  “The patient they supposedly found yesterday is like you.”

  Jesse recalled another bone patient in the lab. Like him, but not, since the man’s disease had been far more advanced. He understood then Liliana’s distraction.

  “He’s dying, isn’t he? Frank is dying,” he said, the man’s name suddenly popping into his brain.

  “Frank? Dark-haired. In his early fifties?”

  It fit the description of the other patient, so he nodded. “Frank Lambert. I think that was his name.”

  “He’s not dead yet,” Liliana said, although she was uncertain how much longer they could sustain his life. The fever was not a good sign, and she feared that the possible use of an inhibitor complex might have compromised his bone marrow. She had delayed in taking a specimen because of his weakened condition, but if they couldn’t control the fever, she might not have any choice.

  Which made her think about someone else who seemed to be exhibiting signs of a fever.

  “Have you seen Howard this morning?”

  Jesse nodded and rubbed his hands along the tops of his thighs. “He doesn’t seem to be doing well.”

  She recal
led the blood on his pants leg. The patch and bit of blood at his back. There was only one conclusion she could reach.

  “I think they injected him with the same genes they used on you.” She looked away from him, plucked at the sheets on his bed.

  He covered her hand with his, attempting to calm her. Offering comfort as he slipped his hand into hers.

  “If they did that, he may become dangerous. Quickly.”

  Her hand trembled slightly, arousing his need to protect, but also to understand more about her.

  “There’s more to it, isn’t there? When we first met, you were already afraid of the violence. Why?”

  She evaded him, but he placed his thumb and forefinger at her chin and gently insisted that she face not only him, but his query.

  “Doesn’t violence frighten you?” she dissembled.

  With a harsh chuckle, he replied, “I was a professional football player. I saw violence of one kind or another every day, but I suspect you’ve witnessed more than you care to.”

  Liliana could have continued to hide but unexpectedly realized that to do so was akin to the lying of which she had accused him.

  “My ex-fiancé abused me. Mentally. Physically,” she confessed and met his gaze, wanting to reveal all that was in her heart.

  Jesse shook his head, confused. “Why did you become engaged to him?”

  She shrugged. “He wasn’t like that at first. Something happened. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t share it with me. As time passed, he got more and more reclusive. Abusive.”

  Narrowing his gaze, Jesse considered her carefully, and his scrutiny drove her to reveal more.

  “Last year one of Morales’s patients kidnapped me. Santiago. He nearly killed my brother.”

  “But you survived,” he said and eased his hand into her hair, tenderly cradling the back of her head. Massaging it gently, he continued. “You survived, and you’re stronger for it.”

  “But maybe not smarter.”

  Although she didn’t withdraw from him physically, she did retreat emotionally. He understood. She had placed herself in danger again, not only by agreeing to their plan, but by caring for him.

  “We’ll survive this together. And we’ll be stronger for it,” he exhorted, and a weak smile came to her lips.