Tainted Hearts

by Cyndi Friberg

  It wouldn’t have been her choice either, but she had few options without going home. She’d worn the diaphanous garment the night before because it displayed her figure to advantage and made her feel naughty. “It’s the only one I have with buttons on the front.”

  “So, wear one of my shirts.”

  “That would cover even less than the dress.” She flashed her sweetest smile.

  “Can we get going?” the general muttered. “There’s a public shuttle stop just off PURE property. We’ll offload you there. He might ask how you got to the stronghold. It’s better to have your answers prepared.”

  That was one concept she understood completely. Job had gotten the better of her before. She wouldn’t underestimate him again.

  General Bettencourt led them to the same transport that had returned them from the mountain lodge. At least it looked the same to Tuesday’s untrained eye. They settled into their seats and she waited for the gravitational pull of takeoff to stabilize before she asked, “Were you able to learn anything about Final PUREification?”

  “Just scatterings of the phrase in their literature. It doesn’t seem to be significant.”

  Tuesday and Marc laughed in unison.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Marc drawled. “Job doesn’t scatter phrases lightly. I learned the numerical code for my name and intercepted the order for my PUREification. Unfortunately, the order had already been sent. Two days later a sniper unloaded on me in broad daylight.”

  “So, why are you alive to tell the tale?” The general arched his brow challengingly.

  “Because I intercepted the message. I was wearing Flexlar body armor, but he took a chunk out of my face. That’s when I decided to have it enhanced, not just reconstructed. You’re the one who said PURE is up to something. Remember the ‘demonstration of power’? Well, this is it, sir. If you’re not too senile to recognize it.”

  “Would you two just stop already?” Tuesday fiddled with her skirt, consciously keeping her nervous fingers away from the loaded button. “Shall we test the transmitter, or were you not finished growling at each other?”

  The transmitter worked beautifully, relaying color images and sound with remarkable clarity.

  Moments after they landed, Marc flung his safety restraints off and stood. “How does surveillance protect her? What are you going to do if he tries to rape or kill her? She’s not going anywhere until you explain this to me.”

  “She’s protected.” The general rose more slowly and faced off with Marc. “If she knows the specifics, it could put everyone in danger.”

  “Trust me?” Marc scoffed. “That’s your plan? I don’t trust you and neither does—”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Tuesday joined the argument. “I’m not just thinking about Raeanne. Job gave me a taste of PURE’s power and it still makes me shudder. They prey on the weak and lonely, exploit vulnerabilities. I’m going to do this and General Bettencourt is in charge.”

  She wanted to slap the smug smile off Bettencourt’s face, but it offered Marc the perfect opportunity.

  “This is bullshit. I’m not going to watch you die.” He nodded toward the hatch. “Let me out.”

  “I won’t allow you to interfere,” Bettencourt insisted.

  “Interfere with what? Her suicide? I’ll take the tram to SD Towers, now open the goddamn hatch!”

  Bettencourt opened the hatch and watched Marc stomp off toward the tram station. He motioned one of his men forward. “Make sure he gets on the tram. The last thing I need is a lovesick hero.” Turning back to her, he asked, “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  Accepting his reassurance with a stiff nod, she stepped off the transport. Marc was on his way to Phil to activate the contingency plan. She wasn’t doing this alone.

  * * * * *

  “I’ve got company.” Marc’s words activated the audiocom snugly lodged inside his ear canal. “I’ll take the tram southbound for two stations.”

  “Copy that,” Phil replied.

  Bettencourt’s man stood on the terminal platform until the tram left the station. The urge to flip him off was nearly overwhelming. Marc turned his back and grabbed hold of a slender alloy pole as the tram rocked into motion. Better let the minion think he was too pissed off to notice.

  He hurried from the tram and ran to Phil’s shuttle. The hatch lowered as Marc drew near. “He’s got her bugged, but he’s sending her in alone. What the hell is he thinking?”

  Phil barely looked up from his control console as Marc strapped in. “Anything I told you at this point would be speculation. It’s better to focus on our objectives.” He made a bland gesture toward the burly, dark-haired man dressed in a PURE uniform. “That’s Geoff. He’ll be your escort for the evening.”

  Marc smirked at Phil. “Smartass.”

  “Guilty as charged, but we really don’t have much time.”

  “So, start briefing me now.”

  Phil swiveled his chair away from the console. “The stronghold is divided into three towers. Job occupies the top floor of tower A. Tower B is filled with individual living quarters for those with a Purity Rating below .09. Tower C is used for training and houses Job’s soldiers. What no one realizes is most of the soldiers are not only tainted, they’re genetic anomalies.”

  Marc felt his jaw drop and snapped it shut.

  “Yeah, we’ve all had that reaction.” The shuttle’s vibration intensified, then stilled as the ship landed. “We’ll explore the full scope of Job’s hypocrisy once this is over. Geoff has level three clearance, but we also have Elijah’s codes. Using a combination of the two, we should be able to get you into tower A.”

  Marc unfastened his safety restraints and took the visitor pass Geoff handed him, ignoring the blood rushing through his ears. “I don’t like the ‘should’.”

  “I told my supervisor I was bringing a potential recruit in with me today,” Geoff explained.

  “How long have you been undercover?” He glanced from Geoff to Phil. The older man had turned his attention back to the controls. Phil hadn’t mentioned anything about an undercover soldier. Why was Phil holding out on him?

  “Eight months.” Geoff shrugged out of his straps and stood. “After I scan you in, we’ll stop by the armory, and cross over on the first connecting tier.”

  “The bad news is from there on you’ll have to take utility passageways and evacuation stairwells or your weapons will set off alarms. I hope you like stairs,” Phil informed without turning around. “Come on,” he muttered, his fingers making several rapid adjustments. “Did Bettencourt mention what frequency he was using on your lady friend?”

  “No. It was a pinhead audio/visual transmitter.”

  Phil chuckled. “All right. Let’s see if he’s grown complacent in his old age.” An image appeared on the monitor in front of him and he laughed again. “Thank God he’s predictable.”

  Marc recognized the lobby of the stronghold. Tuesday sat against the windows, fiddling with one of their brochures.

  “I’ll keep you informed of every move she makes,” Phil continued. “You stay in the stairwells unless things turn sour. Remember you’re just a safety net.”

  * * * * *

  Clinging tenaciously to the fact she wasn’t alone, Tuesday waited in the lobby for an escort. She hoped Job would send Rahab, but the dour-faced blond man rounded the corner from the elevators and approached.

  “Where’s your friend?”

  He sounded disappointed. Tuesday’s voice lodged in her throat. “What’s your name?” Trying to mimic his cold tone, she ended up sounding even more upset.

  “Master is what you’ll call me, when Job entrusts you to my care.”

  His arrogance allowed her to relax a bit. “If my involvement in PURE is contingent upon submitting to you, I’ll channel my energies elsewhere.”

  His sand-colored eyebrow angled upward, but he didn’t reply.
<
br />   Her sigh of relief proved premature as they reached the elevator. He scanned open the lift as he’d done before but remained inside when the door slid shut. Without turning around, he began speaking. “Job spoils his pets. I believe in the rod. I’ve found interesting uses for the rod. Painfully pleasurable uses. You better never displease Job, or he’ll give you to me. I’ll relish the opportunity to use my rod on you.” His harsh laughter made her shiver. “To use both my rods on you.”

  The door opened and he strode into the foyer. Had that been a motivational speech? She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from laughing. This was not funny!

  “What do you find amusing?” Job asked from the salon.

  Compared to the goon, Job seemed normal. The thought pushed her over the edge. She chuckled and then laughed.

  Humiliated and terrified, she turned around and battled her emotions into submission. But realizing how well Job would like her metaphor, she found herself laughing all over again.

  Job’s slender white hands touched her shoulders and she started violently. “I’m sorry. I laugh when I’m nervous and you’ve got me tied in knots.”

  Truth rang through her words and his hands moved to her upper arms. “I don’t mean to make you nervous. I invited you here to put you at ease.”

  She turned, glaring at the other man over Job’s shoulder. “Then why did you send him for me? You should have heard what he said in the elevator.”

  “David has a fondness for discipline, so I give him those in need of its sting.”

  “What is his Purity Rating?”

  Her question clearly startled Job. “David is a medical mystery. Though he willingly partook of temptation, his rating remains 0.0.”

  “My penance overcame the mutation,” David announced proudly.

  “So you claim,” Job muttered. “I’ve found no scriptural justification for your chosen means of penance, but we meet each other’s needs.”

  “He makes me uncomfortable.” She tried to move away from Job, but his hands remained on her upper arms. “Please make him leave.”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that. You see, new information has come to light that I find most distressing.” His hands slid down her arms, circled her wrists and dragged them to the small of her back. She twisted and arched away. He anchored her against him, pulling viciously on her hands. Something snapped in her right wrist and white-hot pain shot up her arm. A strangled scream tore from her throat and she stopped struggling.

  “What new information? What are you talking about?” She panted. Pain spiked up her right arm with each harsh breath.

  “Who kidnapped you?” he asked casually. “What was his name?”

  “Why would my abductor tell me his name?”

  A salacious smile parted his lips while he rubbed suggestively against her pelvis. “Because whatever he did to you while he held you captive, you liked well enough to keep him around. Who’s your tainted lover, Tuesday? Tell me his name.”

  All of her mental cautions echoed back, mocking her. She’d walked right into his trap. How long would they wait to rescue her? What could they do? They couldn’t get beyond the lobby without an escort. Marc was right. All Bettencourt had done was provide them with a front row seat for her degradation.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered. “And I think you broke my wrist.”

  What was Marc’s backup plan? What could he do that the general couldn’t? Terror gave way to a calm certainty. If she waited to be rescued, she would die.

  “Stop struggling and you won’t be damaged.” Job made a snarling sound and spun her around, quickly trapping her arms against her sides. “You’re right, David. She needs discipline. Shall we show her what happens when someone refuses to submit to you?”

  David’s stoic features became animated with malevolent pleasure. “Oh, yes. Let her see.” He shoved a large chair to one side, revealing a person curled in the fetal position, so badly bruised his skin appeared purple. Raised welts and depressed gouges distorted the shape of his flesh, but miraculously the skin wasn’t broken. Not a drop of blood had escaped. “Elihu never surrendered, so I was compelled to press on.”

  She didn’t ask if the poor creature was still alive. He was either dead or comatose.

  And she was next.

  Think! What does he want from you? What will deescalate his anger?

  “What must I do to prove my submission?” she cried, pain making her lightheaded. “I honestly don’t know his name.”

  “You don’t know your lover’s name?” Job sneered. “I think she needs a live demonstration. Go get Rahab.”

  “No!” She threw her weight forward, then slammed her head back into his chin. He stumbled. For a moment, she was free.

  His hand caught in her hair and searing pain ignited her scalp. She screamed. He pulled her head back, twisting her hair around his fist. Catching her injured wrist, he jerked it behind her back and forced her to follow David down the hallway.

  Lights sparked before her eyes and bile rose into her throat. She had to get away from them or a fractured wrist would be the least of her problems.

  “You will watch Rahab’s demonstration of obedience,” he sneered into her ear. “She is not fully trained, but you can learn much from her example.”

  She kicked at the walls and used her free arm to impede their progress, all the while fighting her need to throw up. He shoved her, propelling her as much with her tangled hair as with her twisted arm.

  “Why are you doing this?” A sob tore from her throat. “I’m not unwilling. Why are you hurting me?”

  He shoved her into an office, his panting breath filling her ear. “Because, little liar, Elise Sinclair now has one of your gizmos purring away in her chest. There’s only one way it could have gotten there. You must really think I’m a fool.”

  Slowly, Tuesday licked her lips. He knew. He knew everything. Perhaps not everything. Did he know who Rahab was? Had he guessed her purpose for being here?

  “Elise is an innocent child. Should I have let her die?”

  He spun her around to face him, his hand finally releasing her hair. “Yes!” he snarled. “She is cursed. God intended that she die. You are not God!” His lips pressed together, almost as if he were fighting back tears, but those star-shielded eyes made it impossible to determine his emotions. “Why would you do this to me? Why would you spread your thighs for the enemy? I must despise you now. I must.”

  With the speed of a striking snake, his hand tangled in her hair again. She whimpered, pressing her injured arm against her chest, as he forced her to her knees.

  He jerked her head to the side. “Classroom C, visual only.”

  She didn’t understand the voice command until one of the monitors inset in the wall flickered to life. Sydney sat at a table with six other women. An instructor calmly explained the three-dimensional graph projecting from the center of the table.

  “No!” Panic and fury choked her, robbed her of breath. He would not twist Sydney into one of his followers. She forced air past her burning throat and unclenched her jaw. “I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t hurt—”

  “Sydney is here of her own free will,” he snapped. “She shares the PURE vision. I only showed her to you to help you understand that you are expendable. If you continue to be unreasonable, I will fulfill my destiny with Sydney by my side.”

  No! She repeated the word silently, unwilling to reveal the full depth of her terror. She had to protect Sydney no matter what it took. “If I stay with you, will you let her go?”

  Before he could respond, a muttered curse and several violent thuds drew her attention toward the open doorway. David came into view, wrestling Rahab down the hall. His arm banded her waist and trapped one of her hands, but she clawed and kicked, lodging herself against the walls of the corridor.

  This was the epitome of obedience?

  “You touch me again, you son of a bitch, and I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I will.”

/>   Desolation echoed in the words and Tuesday looked more closely at Rahab. Her face was bruised, as was her neck. Had someone been choking her?

  “Please, Job.” Despite the pain it caused her, she turned her head and looked up at him. “I don’t need a demonstration. She’s obviously suffered enough.”

  “She hasn’t begun to suffer,” David promised, jerking her away from the wall and shoving her into the office. “You want more of what you got last night? You settled down fast enough once I was inside you.”

  Using the massive desk as a vault, Rahab launched herself at David, toppling him with her backward momentum. His head collided with the doorframe and a sickening crack echoed in the office.

  Not pausing to assess the damage, Rahab advanced on Job.

  His hands released Tuesday. She pivoted, still on her knees, and drove her elbow hard into his groin. He howled, dropping to a graceless heap beside her.

  Rahab wasn’t satisfied with his pain-filled moaning. She knelt, her knees flush with his back. Hooking her arm around his head, she snapped his neck.

  Stunned and horrified, Tuesday stared in macabre fascination. Rahab made it look so easy. How could this be Raeanne Rawsen, gently reared daughter of the president?

  “I just murdered two men,” Rahab stated calmly. “Do you want to stick around?”

  Tuesday struggled to her feet and pointed to the monitor. “I’m not leaving without my sister.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The red haze gradually dissipated as Marc felt Tuesday’s fear recede. He stopped struggling against Geoff’s hold.

  “Are you ready to behave?” the soldier asked. “Phil warned me that you’d try to be a hero.”

  Marc let lose a string of profanity that made Geoff laugh. “What—is—going—on?” Ragged breaths separated his angry words. “Are Bettencourt and Phil in bed together?”

  “I don’t think either would appreciate the analogy and the answer is no. Bettencourt is running some sort of Black Ops shit. Phil didn’t have time to figure out the specifics.”