Tainted Hearts

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Oh, don’t misunderstand me.” He raised her chin, bringing her gaze back to his. “My interest in you goes far beyond your arresting face and pleasing shape. You possess skills and knowledge that are unique and valuable. I’m attracted to you, but PURE needs you.”

  Tuesday fortified herself against his insidious charm. PURE needed her. The flattery was a means to an end, a practiced tactic. He disgusted her, yet he knew exactly what to say, which insecurities to soothe, which words she longed to hear—just not from him!

  How many women had he seduced with his perceptive charm and soothing smile? How many had he discarded when their usefulness was spent?

  “What does PURE need me to do?”

  He chuckled, tracing her cheek with his index finger. “I’m asking for a sincere commitment. You could be one of the most valuable members of my team, but PURE isn’t a social club. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a harsh, but necessary choice. Survival of the fittest, Ms. Fitzpatrick. Surely, as a scientist, you understand what that means.”

  “I understand what it means, but I—”

  “You’re not comfortable thinking about it in regard to human beings. Life is precious and must be protected, regardless of the price. But what if the only way to truly protect human life is to isolate the PURE population from those already tainted and let Methuselah Syndrome run its course?”

  “There is merit in the concept, but—”

  “Stringent quarantine is a proven medical strategy that dates all the way back to the Typhoid epidemics.” He captured a lock of her hair. It curled around his fingers and he smiled.

  Tuesday wanted to yank the strand from his grasp and run for the elevator, but she hadn’t learned anything important, hadn’t accomplished anything significant.

  “If you choose a PURE mate, your children and your children’s children would be born healthy and whole. No biomechanical hearts, no risk of malfunction, no suppressed immune systems. The Controlled Community will be a haven for those, like you and me, who have resisted the temptation of vanity and kept themselves PURE. Why should we suffer, and be forced to watch our children suffer, because of the choices made by the tainted world?”

  Tears blurred her vision as she thought of little Elise. Eight years of agony and her challenges had just begun. Tuesday’s lips trembled. She quickly pressed them together, not wanting him to understand how powerfully he was affecting her.

  “I see the pain in your eyes,” he whispered. “And it makes me furious. You don’t deserve to bear the burdens of the tainted world! You are fresh and young and beautiful. You deserve to be cherished and adored. Instead you have become the head crusader for a lost cause.”

  A tear escaped and she angrily brushed it away. Damn him! “How can saving people be a lost cause?”

  “Because you’re not really saving them.” His voice was stronger, more commanding. “You’re just postponing the inevitable, slowing the process, while the epidemic spreads.”

  * * * * *

  Tuesday still hadn’t spoken more than monosyllabic responses to his questions by the time they reached the outskirts of Baltimore. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

  If that bastard had raped her while he sat in the lobby mocking PURE’s propaganda, he would never forgive himself. He was tempted to take her to his house—it was closer than her apartment in the heart of the city—but it was likely Job had them followed. Marc couldn’t risk revealing his identity too soon.

  He spotted a posh hotel and decided it would do nicely. A random destination decreased the chances of surveillance.

  She took his hand and followed him from the shuttle, not asking where they were or why he’d brought her here. Definitely not like Tuesday. His fear increased in direct proportion to her silence. By the time he registered under an assumed name and led her to the moderate suite, he was ready to fly straight back to the PURE stronghold and have it out with Job. Marc’s gut knotted and he struggled to keep his tone even and calm.

  “Tuesday, what happened back there? Talk to me.”

  Wandering around the spacious main room, she appeared dazed and despondent. Her hand trailed along the back of the sofa, but her gaze drifted about, unfocused. They could be anywhere and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  “I never want to go back there, but I’ll have to, won’t I? Oh God, how am I going to go back there?” She turned and leaned against the sofa, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I can’t, Marc. I can’t!”

  He approached cautiously, but she scurried away, putting the sofa between them. “Did he hurt you, sweetheart? Why are you so upset?”

  “He’s a snake,” she cried. “He’s evil incarnate and he…” She closed her eyes, her hands fisting tightly. “Just give me a minute.”

  She continued her manic tour of the room, wandering from the windows to the door, pausing before the voice-activated fireplace, then returning to face him across the sofa. He doubted she saw any of it. She was still back at the PURE stronghold.

  Color gradually returned to her face as the muddled expression dissipated. Her green gaze locked with his, finally seeing him for the first time since they left the stronghold. Marc released his pent-up breath.

  “I’ll never underestimate that man again.” She finger combed her hair out of her eyes. “He read me like a book and used every weakness against me.”

  “You managed to send Rahab to me. You had to have had some control.”

  “I thought so, but—”

  “Let’s sit down,” he proposed.

  He’d meant together on the sofa, but she sat in a large armchair and leaned her head against the high back. “I want to claw his pasty skin to ribbons and shove my thumbs into those circus-clown eyes!”

  “I’ll be happy to assist you.” He walked to the front of the sofa and sat facing her. “What happened after Rahab left?”

  Her voice sounded stronger as she explained. “I was so sure he’d bought my act, but he was so slick. I think that’s what bothered me most. I could see how it happens. For the first time since I heard about PURE, I understood how they do it. I was so dazed by the time he kissed my cheek and sent me down in the elevator I was ready to sign my name on the dotted line.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  A shudder passed through her and he couldn’t stay away. Kneeling in front of the chair, he gently cupped her hands between his. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her, but he didn’t attempt anything more intimate.

  “He told me I was championing a useless cause. He logically explained why anyone with Methuselah Syndrome should be allowed to die and part of me believed him. I’m sickened by the thoughts that man implanted in my head.”

  Marc gave her hands a gentle squeeze. The urge to pull her into his arms was nearly overwhelming, but he resisted. She’d been frightened enough. He wasn’t sure an embrace would comfort her right now.

  She scooted forward, her knees touching his abdomen. “We have to stop him. Job is so much more dangerous than I ever imagined. In less than an hour he made me doubt who I am and everything I’ve accomplished in my entire life.” She blew out a ragged breath. “He made me cry. That really pissed me off.”

  Framing her face with his hands, Marc gently kissed her forehead. “Head games. They’re his weapon of choice. He’s a textbook sociopath.”

  “Well, he’s damn good at it.” She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

  With a relieved smile, Marc wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry you had to go through this. You keep getting caught in the crossfire.”

  “Well, this one wasn’t your fault but I still haven’t forgiven you for kidnapping me.” Her voice was muffled against his neck.

  “Is that so? I guess I’ll have to try harder to make amends.”

  “We’ll discuss that in a minute.” Leaving her arms around his neck, she raised her head and looked at him. “What did you think of Rahab? Was that Raeanne and do you think Job has gotten to her?”

  “That
was definitely Raeanne and regardless of how she behaved in front of Job, he isn’t controlling her. She wasn’t able to tell me much because the lobby is monitored, but she gave me these two brochures.” He pulled the folded pamphlets from his back pocket and handed them to Tuesday, returning to the sofa while she read.

  “I’ve seen this one before. Job sent it to me.” She unfolded the document and skimmed the information inside. “This is different than the one he sent me. The graphics are identical, but the text isn’t the same. What is the Final PUREification?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me. You’ve never heard the phrase before?”

  “No, but look, the Controlled Community is scheduled to open shortly after Final PUREification concludes.” She opened the second brochure and cringed. “This is creepy. What do you think it means?”

  “It’s never really explained.”

  “Rahab gave these to you?”

  He nodded.

  “They have two sets of brochures. One for potential recruits and one for those already trusted, at least to some degree. Could this be why Rahab hasn’t just taken Job out and walked away? Maybe she knows what it means. Final PUREification. That can’t be good.”

  “Think about it. Their Controlled Community is intended as a haven for those untainted by the genetic mutation, correct?”

  “Yes. Only 0.0s will be allowed. Those with any sort of taint will remain at the stronghold and be sterilized. It’s extreme, but it’s based on scientific principles. They intend to purge the gene pool of the mutation through selective breeding.”

  Her casual attitude brought him up short. “You don’t agree with this, do you? One hour with Job and you’re a True Believer?”

  “I didn’t say I agree with it. I said it’s based on scientific principles. Is it humane and acceptable to force those principles on others? That’s the real question and the answer is a resounding no. I comprehend survival of the fittest. I don’t condone perpetuating it.”

  “What would it take to perpetuate it?”

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “What are you getting at?”

  “If those between 0.9 and PURE are allowed to live out their lives in the stronghold so long as they don’t reproduce, and all the 0.0s move to the Controlled Community, what happens to the rest of us?”

  “Final PUREification.”

  They looked at each other, horror dawning in their eyes.

  “But how? What could they do…how could—”

  “If it wasn’t for the SP-64, most of us would already be dead or dying.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Job can’t expect me to sabotage my own invention.” Tuesday saw the answer in Marc’s expression and shook her head. “There’s no way. The vast majority of those devices are installed in infants!”

  “Tainted, defective infants nature intended to die.”

  She gasped, her hand instinctively moving to her chest. The strong, steady beat of her natural heart mocked her horror. “Whatever his plan is, there has to be more to it than me. I refused to even see that—creature until today. He knows I’m skeptical at best.”

  Scratching his chin, Marc nodded. “I can’t argue with that. I’ll get my security team working on it, and I need to let Bettencourt know what we’ve learned so far.”

  “What have we really learned? Job is a manipulative lunatic. Rahab appears to have ready access to him but she hasn’t killed him yet and there is an ominous phrase used in some of their literature. That’s not much to report.”

  “It’s more than you realize. It’s a place to start.” He smiled, slowing the escalation of her emotions. “We’ll take a few days off. Wait for him to contact you.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “He will. You’re the unwitting savior of the tainted world. He has to recruit you.”

  “Or PUREify me.”

  He didn’t respond.

  She pushed to her feet, restless and angry. Her life had always been complicated, but Job made her feel powerless, as if his vision of the future was inevitable. She hated helplessness and refused to bow to inevitability. Her entire life had been spent proving naysayers wrong and beating astronomical odds.

  Didn’t Job know who she was?

  “He is not getting away with this.” She glanced at Marc and found him grinning from ear to ear. “What’s with the smile?”

  “Welcome back.”

  Tuesday laughed. “I haven’t been this rattled since some lunatic kidnapped me.” She crossed to the sofa and pulled him to his feet, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Job may consider himself pure but he made me feel filthy. I want to scrub my entire body. I feel contaminated.”

  “Why don’t you take a bath before I fly you home.” He pressed his lips to hers in the teasing hint of a kiss.

  “Why don’t we take a bath and spend the night here?” Moving closer, she pressed her breasts against his chest and tried to kiss him.

  Marc wrapped his hands around her upper arms, staying just out of reach. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage—“

  Standing on her tiptoes, Tuesday silenced him with a kiss. He cupped her butt with both hands, holding her against him, greeting her tongue with the warm swirl of his.

  Not willing to release his mouth, Tuesday clung to him as he guided her toward the bathroom. She wanted to feel his “tainted” hands slide all over her body. She needed to touch him, taste him, take him, until nothing else remained.

  He unzipped her dress and she lifted her arms from the fluttery sleeves. By the time she’d kicked off her sandals and hung the dress on the hook beside the bathroom door, he’d stripped to his boxers.

  Heat moved through her in a languid swirl. Her face flushed, her nipples tightened, and her core pulsed. Sagging against the door, she whispered, “Maybe we should take the bath after. I don’t think I can wait.”

  A wicked grin parted his lips as he stalked toward her. “Whatever Tuesday wants, Tuesday gets.” He leaned in close, bracing himself against the door on either side of her shoulders. “I await your instructions, my lady.”

  She stroked his chest, absorbing the firm warmth with her fingers, her hands. One of his knees nudged her legs apart, rubbing his muscular thigh against her mound. Tension intensified.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  Framing her face with his palms, he kissed her deeply, passionately. He made her feel alive, excited and exciting. Beautiful.

  His mouth descended along the sensitive column of her throat. He cupped her breast in one warm hand. Her nipple hardened, tingled. Her heartbeat thundered beneath his palm. Moving his fingers lower, he circled her with his tongue, nipping and sucking. Tuesday moaned.

  He pulled her away from the door, bending her over his arm. The arch of her back thrust her breasts upward, a sensual offering. His mouth moved across her flesh with lazy fascination. He licked and kissed his way from one breast to the other and back.

  Tuesday’s head spun, her senses burned. She wanted more of him—all of him! Breathless and restless, she clung to his shoulders. His mouth returned to hers as his hands swept downward, pulling her panties off.

  This was it, no more hiding, no barriers. The stubborn remnants of her insecurity tried to reassemble themselves. Would seeing all of her beneath the bathroom’s bright lights make him turn away?

  Soothing her with patient kisses, he rid himself of his underwear and pressed against her skin to skin. His hands skimmed along her sides, stroked her rounded hips, and slipped between their bodies. She rested her head against the door, closing her eyes as he touched her intimately.

  He stroked her damp curls and slipped his middle finger between her passion-slicked folds. For endless minutes he did nothing more than slide his finger forward and back, forward and back.

  Her clit swelled and throbbed insistently. She needed his touch there—now. She arched, grinding against his fingers. He parted her and circled the exquisitely sensitive knot of nerves. Her core melted, preparing for
his entry.

  “God, you’re so hot, so soft. I want to be inside you, but I don’t want to stop touching you,” he murmured against her parted lips.

  With abrupt urgency, he grasped her hips and lifted her to the smooth counter between the double sinks. “That’s cold,” she gasped.

  “Give me a minute and you won’t even notice.”

  His gaze moved over her naked body and Tuesday held her breath. His lips parted, eyes brightened, pupils dilated. Even her battered self-esteem couldn’t deny the longing reflected in his expression. Joy swept through her, dissolving her inhibitions, freeing her desire.

  He ran his hands along her inner thighs, easing her legs apart. Tuesday glanced down, fascinated by the contrast in their skin tone, and the obvious care with which he touched her. Her chest constricted, tension coiled low in her belly making her ache.

  He pushed two fingers inside her and Tuesday fought back a passionate cry. His thumb stroked her while his fingers glided in and out.

  She watched his fingers surge again and again, reveling in the carnal beauty they created. He pulled her hips to the edge of the counter and dragged his fingers out. Her inner muscles fluttered, protesting his retreat. He pressed one hand against the small of her back, while he positioned himself with the other.

  She hadn’t seen him that night in her apartment. Her skirt had hidden a lot! Lifting her knees high against his sides, she opened herself in brazen invitation.

  Bracing against the counter, Tuesday closed her eyes. Her body parted, stretched, and accepted his full length.

  “That feels so good,” he whispered.

  His hands caressed her hips, her breasts, her shoulders, before settling on her hips again. Holding her firmly, he pulled back, leaving only his tip enveloped in her swollen folds.

  Tuesday trembled. This felt wonderful but she needed so much more. He kissed her, one long, consuming kiss after another. She shared his breath, explored his mouth as boldly as he explored hers.

  Marc hooked her legs over his arms and buried himself completely with one forceful lunge. Tuesday gasped. He did it again and again, thrusting hard, withdrawing slowly. Rational thought deserted her. She could see only him. Feel only the thick slide of his body as he moved over and into her.