Tainted Hearts

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Then, lift up or I’ll rip it off you.”

  She raised her hips and he pulled the thin straps down along her thighs. He knelt and her heart flipped over in her chest. Would Marc… Leo had refused to put his mouth on her. Every time she’d hinted that she might enjoy experimenting in that way, Leo had seemed repulsed.

  “More wine?” Marc grinned and drizzled it into her feminine curls.

  She giggled. “That’s cold.” The cool liquid saturated her folds and a startled gasp tore from her throat. “It burns!”

  He quickly lifted her feet to his shoulders, forcing her knees to bend. His mouth soothed the sting with slow, tantalizing sweeps of his tongue. Drizzling more wine, his lips joined the seduction. He nuzzled and gently sucked, leaving the wine against her delicate folds only long enough to intensify the sensitivity.

  Tuesday moaned. Oh, it was good—it was so good. The chilled wine contrasted with the heat of his breath and there was nothing tentative about the way his mouth touched her. His lips and tongue stroked and explored every hidden recess, every tender crevice.

  “You like that?” he whispered, his mouth moving against her.

  “Yes, oh yes!”

  He built the tension to a fevered pitch, cooling her intimate flesh with wine, then setting her ablaze with his torrid kisses. She clasped the edge of the table, her head tossing from side to side. Dropping the empty goblet to the carpet, he focused entirely on arousing her. She trembled, lifting her hips in brazen invitation.

  He circled her swollen clit with the tip of his tongue, while he pushed two fingers gradually into her throbbing core. Tuesday held perfectly still, overcome by the thrill of penetration. Her legs shook, instinctively opening wider. She waited for him to move, to work his fingers in and out, but he flexed them instead, gently curved them inward. After repositioning several times, he stroked across a gathering of nerve endings that made her passage tingle and burn.

  “Oh,” she cried out, her heels slipping off his shoulders and onto his back.

  He caressed her with his fingers and circled her with his tongue. Tuesday writhed helplessly, the intensity rapidly approaching pain.

  “Don’t fight it, love,” he coaxed. “Relax and you’ll come.”

  Relax? She felt like her body was about to fly apart. How was she supposed to relax? “I don’t think I can.” She panted.

  “Now or never,” he warned playfully.

  Slowly, he pulled his fingers out, but his tongue flicked across her ruthlessly. Heated sensations coalesced deep inside her, gathering tighter and tighter, and then sprang free. She cried out, her hips arching off the table while violent shudders of pleasure ricocheted through her body.

  Marc drew her against his chest, kissing her deeply. We should move to the bedroom. He really didn’t want to take her on the tabletop but she raised her legs against his sides and angled her hips in silent invitation. His shaft found her entrance as if of its own volition. Her slick folds closed around him, her heat seared him and he groaned.

  “Here? Or—”

  “Here!” She crossed her ankles at the small of his back and pulled his mouth to hers.

  Unable to restrain himself a moment longer, he thrust home in one forceful lunge. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Oh, love, did I hurt you?” Her supple legs tightened around his hips and her inner muscles rippled with release. He chuckled. “Guess not.”

  Panting, she sank to her back, her legs still hooked around his waist. He dragged her to the edge of the table and pulled almost out of her. Firmly holding her hips, he began to move in earnest. Her legs hindered his depth, minimized his leverage. He pulled her closer.

  With a frustrated cry, she unhooked her ankles and grabbed the backs of her knees, opening herself, offering herself.

  Heat suffused Marc’s entire body and his cock jerked inside her. He hooked his fingers over the edge of the table and thrust deeply. She clung to him, hot and liquid, yet incredibly tight. Trembling with each penetration, she groaned as he dragged himself nearly out. He wanted this to go on forever, the gathering pleasure, the intimate connection.

  He covered her mouth with his, matching each thrust with a stroke of his tongue. He had to be inside her, to be part of her, complete her. He felt nearly frantic with the urge to join with her. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get deep enough—couldn’t get enough.

  What was wrong with him?

  Why did he feel so—desperate?

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he cried out sharply. He dragged her ass off the table, wrapped his arms firmly around her hips and surrendered to release.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marc’s vidcom sent out a shrill signal and he dragged his mouth away from Tuesday’s breast. “Shit.” He growled and crawled off the bed.

  “Ignore it.”

  “I can’t. That’s an urgent page. Only one person has the code to activate it and there’s no way he’d use it unless it was an emergency.”

  His vidcom was still clamped to the waistband of his pants, which he’d left in the main room of the hotel suit. Snatching the device from its holder, he activated audio only as he returned to the bedroom.

  “What’s wrong, Cobra? This better be important.”

  “I wouldn’t have disturbed you otherwise.” Tension crackled through Phil’s tone. “I sent for an interrogator as you requested but our disciple got the better of him.”

  Marc’s passion-muddled brain awkwardly decoded the message. Elijah James had escaped. “Is it possible he returned to his assignment without informing you?”

  “I don’t believe so, sir. His attitude greatly improved during his interrogation. The last time I spoke with him we were discussing alternate assignments.”

  “Then why would he bolt?” Marc glanced at the bed. Tuesday watched silently, absorbing his side of the conversation with rapt interest.

  “He’s scared. There’s no mystery here. He figures if you don’t end his assignment, the prime suspect will. I just need to know how you’d like to proceed.”

  “How much of a liability is he? Do we dare just let him run?”

  “That’s your call. Some of his information is potentially damning, but he’d need motivation to use it.”

  “Better safe than sorry. See if you can round him up.”

  “Affirmative. Cobra, out.”

  Marc set his vidcom on the nightstand and got back into bed.

  “What was that about?” Tuesday’s gaze shone with curiosity.

  Marc had guarded his secrets so long, part of him fought against revealing them now. “I lost my contact inside the PURE stronghold.”

  “You have an operative inside PURE?” She sat, holding the sheet against her naked breasts.

  “Had. Past tense. We’re currently unable to verify his location.”

  “Oh God, do you think Job found him?”

  Marc shook his head. “He’d been taken to a safe house to unwind for a few days. He’d been Job’s right hand for over a year and it was starting to get to him.”

  “What happened? Why did you send him to the safe house?”

  Inching the sheet down, Marc tried to distract her. She ignored the ploy and stared at him expectantly. “Job ordered him to bring you to him, but I snatched you first.”

  She shuddered. “You sent him to the safe house to protect him from Job.”

  “It’s more complicated than that. He knows he’s in danger because he failed, but a year at Job’s side has convinced him I’m evil incarnate. He showed up at the other hotel shortly after you left for work.”

  “Showed up? I gather it wasn’t a social call.”

  Marc shook his head. “He tried to blast a hole in my chest that even a SP-64 wouldn’t fix. This makes try number four.”

  “How long has Job been trying to kill you?”

  “The first attempt was three years ago.” He stretched out on his back, folding his hands behind his head. “The second was on the fifth anniversary of Emma�
��s death, and the third was not quite three months ago.”

  “And you’re certain Job is behind the attempts?”

  “Job is not a subtle man. Before all this began, I received a message explaining why I must be PUREified. It wasn’t the first death threat I’d received. I thought I could handle it.”

  “Why do you say it like that? You’re still alive.”

  “I hired the best security specialist money can buy. Phil works for me, but I follow his directives to the letter. That’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

  She snuggled against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “Does Bettencourt know about Phil?”

  “Hell no. I don’t trust him any more than you do.”

  “But you trust Phil?”

  “He hasn’t failed me yet. One of Phil’s security protocols warned me of my unwanted visitor.”

  Pushing up on her elbow, she looked down into his face. “What are you doing about the missing operative?”

  “I told Phil to try to find him. I hate loose ends.”

  * * * * *

  Tuesday stood before him in all her naked glory, bathed in pale moonlight, her gaze warm and adoring. She cupped her lush breasts, her smile warm and inviting.

  “Turn around, my love, and lift your hair. I want to see that magnificent ass.”

  Tuesday turned, gathering her mass of strawberry-blonde curls atop her head, exposing the elegant line of her spine, her soft, womanly hips, and—

  Urgent pounding on the door to Job’s private apartment jarred him from his fantasy. He cursed under his breath as the illusion faded and the woman before him reverted to her natural appearance. The cloud of curly hair straightened and darkened. Her body thinned, her flawless ivory skin took on an olive cast and the plush, rounded hips shrank to boyish proportions. Disgusted, he threw Rahab her robe and stood.

  Snatching his robe from the foot of the bed, he struggled into it as he hurried across his sitting room to unlock the door. He and David were the only ones who could activate the elevator and David would never disturb him unless the need was dire. He knew better.

  Job yanked open the door and demanded an explanation with his expression.

  “I have a gift for you,” David said simply.

  Following his lieutenant down the short corridor, Job activated the lights in the salon with a voice command and found his “gift” kneeling, naked, his hands bound behind his back.

  “Where did you find him?” Job smiled at David, pleased by the speed of his success.

  “Attempting to leave the country. He’s a coward. Cowards run.”

  “I was not attempting to leave. I was—”

  Job stopped Elihu’s words with a vicious uppercut, rocking him backward, splitting his lip. “You will only speak when I request information or I’ll have your mouth sewn shut.”

  Catching a faint movement out of the corner of his eye, Job snapped his head toward the corridor. Rahab stood there, a white silk robe doing little to conceal her charms. Her dark gaze was fixed on Elihu, but as usual Job couldn’t read her expression.

  “Join us, Rahab. David has found the traitor. I’d like you to see how we deal with disloyalty. By betraying one member of PURE, he has betrayed us all.”

  She padded across the salon and sat facing Elihu. Was she hiding her face from him or did she want to watch her ex-lover suffer? No matter, her loyalty would be tested soon enough.

  He turned back to Elihu. “I’m a reasonable man. Explain where David found you and why you were there. I will listen to your account of the tale.”

  Elihu’s mouth opened, as if he would speak, but his lips just trembled and he bowed his head.

  “Shall I ask the question of David? He has already determined your guilt.”

  “I was at the transport station but I was not preparing to leave.”

  When Elihu said nothing more, Job kicked him in the side. “And? That hardly explains your absence or your presence at the transport station. Your mission was to locate Tuesday Fitzpatrick and bring her to me. Where is she?” Blood trickled across Elihu’s chin and dripped onto his chest. Job glanced at Rahab. “Clean him up, before he soils my carpeting.”

  She retrieved several tissues from the box on the end table and approached her ex-lover with disdain in her eyes. Job watched as she none too gently wiped his lip, chin and chest. Unforgiving little bitch. He smiled. Her spirit still amused him but her physical appeal had vanished when he saw Tuesday in person for the first time.

  Tuesday, with her soft, shapely body and her untainted blood, she was a woman worthy of his seed.

  “I know Tuesday came to you,” Elihu said. “I know you are greatly displeased with me and I was attempting to regain your favor.”

  The conviction in his tone cut through Job’s half-formed image of Tuesday. He looked at the kneeling man, his curiosity piqued. “How did you hope to regain my favor at the transport station?”

  Elihu’s dark eyes darted to his and then away. “I was able to isolate an image of the Sinclair-Dietrich shuttle she boarded the morning she disappeared.”

  “I know she was kidnapped by an employee of Sinclair-Dietrich. She told me as much.” Bored already, Job’s attention drifted. David’s cold blue gaze had settled on Rahab. She clutched the front of her robe, but the bottom edge gaped, revealing her toned legs to mid-thigh. Perhaps he would allow David to—

  “You don’t understand, sir,” Elihu persisted. “The shuttle isn’t registered to the corporation. It’s registered to Marcus Sinclair.”

  His interest focused squarely on Elihu again, Job considered the information. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s why I was at the transport station. I bribed an acquaintance to pull up a routine log on the shuttle. I know where he took her, how long they stayed and everywhere the shuttle has been since.”

  Excitement zinged through Job’s body. It couldn’t be that simple. Sinclair wasn’t that stupid. “Is it a single operator registration or can anyone Sinclair designates use the shuttle?”

  “There are twelve designated users,” Elihu admitted.

  “Then, you know nothing more than Tuesday told me. It could have been any one of those twelve people. Where’s the shuttle now?”

  “It left the mediplex at midmorning and flew directly to Sinclair Estates.”

  That added credence to Elihu’s hypothesis, but Job required proof. “We can’t penetrate the estate’s security, we’ve tried,” he grumbled.

  “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

  David seldom bothered to speak, so Job had learned to heed him when he did. “What?”

  “Ms. Fitzpatrick’s tainted lover.” David’s lips curved in a cruel distortion of a smile. “While you’re scouring the planet for Sinclair, he strolled into the lobby of your stronghold.”

  Fury blinded Job. He kicked the coffee table, sending the contents flying across the room. “That bastard will not make a fool of me! I need options and I need them now.”

  “Tuesday has a sister,” Elihu offered in a rush, “and she is True Pure just like Tuesday.”

  “What?” He stomped back to the traitor and grasped his chin. “Tuesday is an orphan. The plague left her so.”

  “Both her parents died of Methuselah Syndrome but her younger sister is still alive.”

  Shoving Elihu away, he turned and glared at David. “Did you know about this?”

  “I keep no secrets from you.” David sounded genuinely affronted. “I knew nothing of a sister.”

  “Why have you never mentioned this before?”

  “I just learned about her, sir.” Elihu licked his lips, desperation contorting his expression. “The younger one uses their mother’s maiden name.”

  “Shall I bring her to you?” David asked.

  Job stroked his chin as possibilities rolled through his mind. “I need you here. Send one of the female recruiters with a security contingent. Make sure they understand that the mission requires discretion.” />
  * * * * *

  The gentle brush of warm lips against her shoulder drew Tuesday from a peaceful sleep. She rolled onto her back and sleepily blinked her eyes until Marc’s striking features came into focus. Caressing the side of his face, she smiled as his stubbly jaw abraded her fingertips.

  “You’re even gorgeous in the morning,” she murmured. “It really isn’t fair.”

  He laughed. “At least you didn’t call me beautiful. Though I’m not sure I’m comfortable with gorgeous either.”

  “Breathtakingly handsome? Knee-meltingly sexy? Nope, sorry, you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

  “Well, I’d like to keep the drop-dead part out of it, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Don’t worry.” She stretched up and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. “I’ll protect you.”

  He swept her beneath him, settling himself between her thighs. “My hero.” His mouth returned her kiss with much more intensity. “Do you realize we’ve never made love in a bed?”

  She chuckled, her nipples rubbing against his chest. “That’s because the one time we made it to the bed you answered your stupid vidcom.”

  Sticky from the wine and their mutual passion the night before, they had enjoyed a long hot shower, but the silky glide of soapy hands and hot skin sliding against hot skin soon had them wanting more. After he took her facing the bathroom mirror, braced against the countertop, they showered separately.

  “We’re in bed now,” he whispered.

  “I noticed.” She also noticed how hard he’d grown against her belly and how easy it would be for him to shift his hips and fill her.

  “Do you want me inside you?”

  She groaned. Of all the men on the planet, why did she have to fall in love with a talker? Her thoughts came screeching to a halt. Fall in love with? Her heart skipped a beat and heat cascaded through her. She was in love with Marc Sinclair!

  “It’s a simple question.” He slid down along her body. “Either you want me inside you or you don’t.” Cupping her breast, he circled her nipple with his tongue, teasing it carefully with his teeth. “Or maybe it’s not.” He moved farther down. “I suppose you might be deciding what part of me you want inside you.”