Sins of the Flesh

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “Mouthy for someone in your position,” he said, and she detected a nasally tone in his speech. A New Englander, she guessed, not that such information was useful. So she asked him, “And what position would that be?”

  “Soon to be dead meat, but not before we have some fun.”

  He crouched before her and the minimal light in the room glinted off something very shiny and very sharp.

  She controlled the urge to flinch as he brought a long, thin knife close to her chest. He eased it beneath the edges of her shirtfront and with a quick flick of his wrist, cut off a button.

  She stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his actions, but it was impossible not to feel the release of the fabric as each button came loose and her shirtfront parted.

  The damp air chilled her skin as he pulled apart the edges of her shirt. The knife blade was even colder as he slid it beneath the straps of her bra and sliced through them.

  “Beautiful,” he said as he dragged down the bra to expose her breasts.

  She focused her gaze on the wall in front of her, but couldn’t control the shudder that racked her body as the chill in the air and coolness of the knife’s metal registered.

  “Cold?” he asked and shifted the knife across her skin, but made no other motion to touch her.

  “You’re a sick bastard,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He leaned close to her, a twisted smile on his face.

  “Sweetheart, we haven’t even gotten started.”

  Mick knew Mad Dog well enough to know he would run to ground somewhere nearby, unwilling to risk having Liliana out in public for too long. Which meant there were only a few places he might have found to hide out. Somewhere back near Wardwell in the Pine Barrens. Maybe even where Edwards and his partner had taken the remaining gene therapy patients.

  There were some other hiding areas by the Twin Lights in the Highlands, but more possible locations in Fort Hancock. Even with the many battery areas which had been opened for public tours, there remained a large number of tunnels and ammo storage areas in which to hide. Unfortunately, they were the more dilapidated areas and risky to navigate due to their deteriorating conditions.

  But that was where he might go if he had to hide someone for any length of time.

  Liliana’s cell phone sat on the desk before him. Silent.

  Mad Dog was nothing if not predictable. He’d call and offer Liliana in exchange for Caterina. Make him bring Caterina to him and then try to take them all out so he could walk away without leaving behind any witnesses. Collect whatever bounty Edwards and his partners had placed on Caterina’s head.

  Too bad he intended to mess up Mad Dog’s plans.

  He picked up his cell phone and dialed Edwards. Annoyance filled the other man’s voice as he answered.

  “What now, Mr. Carrera? I already gave you—”

  “Mad Dog grabbed my sister.”

  An exasperated sigh sounded across the line. “As I told you before, I have nothing to do with this Mad Dog fellow.”

  Mick didn’t believe that for a moment. “You better pray I find my sister safe and sound, Dr. Edwards.”

  He didn’t wait for Edwards’s reply.

  When he looked up, Caterina was at the door, worry etched onto her features. “Have you heard anything?”

  He shook his head, concern gnawing at him. Mad Dog treated his captives like a cat with a mouse. He liked to play with them first. His gut tightened at the thought of what Mad Dog might be doing with his sister, driving him to his feet.

  “I need to find them. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

  “Mad Dog said to wait for his call. I’m sure—”

  “He’s probably hurting her. That’s his M.O.,” Mick said, driving an agitated hand through his hair as he paced before her.

  Caterina walked to his side and laid a hand on his arm. “He’s got the advantage right now.”

  “I think I know where he is,” he said.

  “And what will you do? Go off half-cocked? Even if you’re willing to risk your life, what about Liliana? What if Mad Dog has involved anyone else?”

  Mick thought about what Mad Dog might be doing to Liliana, but then forced aside such thoughts. He had to keep emotion out of it to stay logical and in control.

  “You’re right, Cat. Mad Dog will call when he has everything just like he wants it.”

  Caterina embraced him. “I’m sorry. I know this is all my fault.”

  He shifted away from her and took hold of her arms, his touch gentle as he attempted to reassure her. “This is not your fault at all.”

  She tapped the center of her chest with her fingers. “He wants me. Just me. I’m willing to go to save Liliana.”

  He wagged his head in chastisement. “Do you really think Mad Dog or his bosses are content to let any of us live?”

  With a sad shake of her head, she said, “No. There’s too much money involved to allow that.”

  He dug his hand into her hair and cradled the back of her head. “Trust me. I suspect where he might have taken her.”

  “Where?” she asked, but Mick shook his head.

  “Fort Hancock probably. Right now we sit tight until we hear from Mad Dog. If I’m right, we’ll wait until it’s dark to go to him. I need cover to approach and have any hope of saving Liliana. Then I’ll head there.”

  “We’ll go together,” she insisted.

  “No,” he replied curtly. “The tunnels are risky even during the day. At dark they’re treacherous and I need to have the benefit of surprise on my side.”

  Liliana’s cell phone chimed, the ring tone overly loud and excessively cheerful.

  As Mick answered, he hit the speakerphone button so Caterina could also hear what Mad Dog had to say.

  “You there, Carrera?” Mad Dog asked.

  Mick kept his tone neutral as he asked, “Where is she, Mad Dog?”

  “I’ve got someone who wants to say hello,” the other man said, but silence followed for long seconds before the muffled noise of what sounded like a slap pierced the quiet.

  Mad Dog warned, “Speak up, bitch,” before the sound of another louder slap filled the line.

  Mick clenched his fists and Caterina covered his hand with hers, offering support while they waited.

  Finally Liliana weakly said, “I’m okay, Mick.”

  Mad Dog’s harsh chuckle followed. “Bitch is stubborn. She’s just making it harder for herself.”

  “You’re a dead man, Mad Dog—”

  “Let’s get this over with, Carrera. You know what I want. Shaw in exchange for your sister.”

  Mick met Caterina’s gaze. Determination filled her gaze as he said to Mad Dog, “When? Where?”

  “Midnight at Fort Hancock. Tunnel off the second set of battery buildings. Follow what’s left of the paths for the old Nike missile tracks until you reach the ammo storage area. We’ll be waiting for you.”

  Before Mick could say another word, the line went dead.

  Caterina squeezed his hand gently and asked, “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

  “About where he is? It’s where I thought he would go to hide,” he admitted, but quickly added, “But he doesn’t plan on making an exchange. He’ll probably lay out a trap or two somewhere along the tunnels to take us out long before we reach Liliana.”

  She shuddered against him and her color paled. “I want to go with you.” Mick twined his fingers with hers and seemed to be considering her request. Finally he said, “I suspect you won’t be left behind no matter what I say. So I guess we need to be ready for whatever Mad Dog throws at us.”

  “What about Liliana? Will he—”

  “Kill her? Not until he’s sure we’re out of the way. She’s his insurance.”

  Caterina leaned against him. Against his rock-solid strength. He picked up his hand and splayed it across her back, urging her even closer.

  She wanted to apologize again for all the trouble she had brought him and his fami
ly, but understood that he didn’t hold her responsible. It didn’t make it any easier to consider that his sister might die because of her. That either of them might die later that night.

  Because of what Edwards and his people had done.

  Because of plain old greed.

  Caterina looked up at him. “We can’t let Edwards get away with this. Someone needs to know what he did. Someone has to find the other patients who were being treated. Some of them were my friends.”

  As Mick met her gaze, he must have realized what she was thinking—that if they both died tonight, their secrets died with them. The sins Edwards and the others had committed would go unpunished.

  With a certainty she couldn’t muster, he said, “You and I are going to see to it that Edwards is punished and the other patients are set free. I promise you that.”

  From what Caterina knew of him, she knew he meant to keep his word, but with a man like Mad Dog to fight…

  “How can you be so certain?”

  A cheerless smile crept onto his features and he cradled her cheek, a slight tremble in his hand. “Because I’d die before seeing any more hurt come to you or Liliana.”

  With a nod, she burrowed against him, hoping that was one promise he wouldn’t have to keep.

  CHAPTER 35

  Edwards sat staring at the phone long minutes after the call from Carrera.

  If he had been a praying man, he might have done as Carrera had suggested and start asking a higher authority for some answer to the problems with which he was faced.

  But he wasn’t a religious man, although some might have said he worshipped at the temple of science.

  Leaning back in his chair, he tapped a finger against his lips, pondering how it was that this had become so complicated. How it had gone from being a brilliant scientific idea to the serial violations and terminations of various patients and Rudy Wells?

  Of course Wells had always been the weakest link in the whole complicated chain, he thought. From the beginning Wells had shown more compassion for the patients than was healthy. As a scientist one had to disassociate oneself from the experiment, and Wells had failed miserably, getting too emotionally involved.

  Wells’s humanity had been his downfall.

  Morales had seen that weakness in Wells immediately. He had expressed his concerns to Edwards when their partner had started to get balky about the introduction of the additional DNA strands into the patients’ therapies.

  In truth, Edwards had been more interested in the science of what would occur than any possible financial gain. It had been Morales who had seen the economic potential of the ultimate genetically modified organism—a human GMO altered for whatever your need and under total control.

  Too bad Morales had complicated everything by having Wells killed before the completion of the Gates Genengineering merger, and now by hiring a psycho to take care of Shaw.

  Morales needed to know what was going on. He picked up the phone and dialed, but the call went to voice mail.

  “Call me,” was all he said.

  Edwards set the phone back in its cradle and once again considered what Carrera had told him. If Mad Dog succeeded, there would be no more worries, but he had hired Carrera because of his reputation for success.

  He couldn’t take a chance that this was the one time Carrera would fail.

  Swiveling his chair to face his computer, Edwards accessed his assorted accounts as well as those of Wardwell and reviewed the various financial records. Then he began transferring money to a number of his private overseas accounts. He was in the process of shifting cash to one of the banks when he realized there was already a rather large sum of money in the account. More money than he recalled being there.

  He was about to access the transaction log when his phone rang. He would have ignored it, but the caller ID indicated it was Morales.

  With a quick glance at his watch that showed that nearly an hour had gone by, he said, “It’s about time you called.”

  Morales chuckled, clearly unfazed by his anger. Never a good sign when an underling didn’t respect you, Edwards thought. “Well? Where were you?” he insisted.

  “Transferring one of our GMOs.”

  Transferring one of the patients? “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone needed a way to deliver a bomb into a secure facility. Shaw’s genetic twin was the answer to their problem,” Morales advised. He spoke as calmly as if he were ordering take-out.

  “You sold one of the patients?” Edwards asked in disbelief, even though he had come to understand that was the ultimate goal of his partnership with Morales.

  “Check your account. I deposited half of the payment there this morning.”

  He didn’t need to check. He now had his answer about the extra money. Morales had put the other woman who had been implanted with the same gene fragments as Shaw on the market. A woman who had been much more malleable, both mentally and physically, than the prickly cellist.

  “What if she’s discovered? What if—”

  “It’s a one-way mission. The bomb will take care of her no matter what.”

  Several million for a disposable GMO.

  More than Edwards had expected, but there was still the problem of Mad Dog.

  “Your mercenary has taken Carrera’s sister hostage. The body count may get too high on this project.”

  Morales laughed once again, much more wickedly than before.

  “I wouldn’t worry, Raymond. I’ve got it all under control.”

  Morales hung up. The second time someone had hung up on him that day.

  He didn’t much care for it. Didn’t much care for Morales calling him by his given name. It was downright disrespectful, and he intended to set Morales straight about it.

  But first he had to finish transferring funds. After that, he would make sure to gather everything he needed to protect himself regardless of whether Carrera or Mad Dog was victorious.

  Edwards had seen what Morales had done to Wells.

  He had no doubt the little pimp would do the same to him unless he had some insurance.

  Mick had spent hours preparing both of them for that night’s mission, reviewing dozens of photos of the site from both amateurs who had visited on tours to images stored in the private archives of the military. Aerial shots had provided an overall picture of the layout of the assorted batteries and buildings comprising Fort Hancock, as well as the roads and parking areas on Sandy Hook.

  He had even hacked into one site to secure more detailed diagrams of the tunnels and mechanisms that had formed part of the Nike missile system, a frontline defense deployed during the Cold War but made obsolete by the development of ICBMs. The Nike missiles hadn’t been fast enough to take down the newer, faster weapons, which had resulted in their decommission.

  Mick and Caterina must have scrutinized the schematics and maps for what seemed like the hundredth time when he shot a quick glance at his watch and said, “It’s time you got some rest.”

  In truth she was tired and hungry, but they still had several hours to go until their assignation with Mad Dog.

  “I’ll go make us a bite to eat,” she said and left him behind in his office, understanding he needed some time alone. As well as Mick had tried to prepare her, Caterina knew there were things he had kept to himself. Things he had to deal with in order to be ready for tonight’s mission.

  The pickings in the refrigerator were slim. She quickly made two turkey sandwiches and took them upstairs. They ate together and yet apart. Each bite mechanical because they were both thinking of other things.

  Of what the night might bring.

  When they finished their sandwiches, Mick thanked Caterina and woodenly repeated his earlier instruction. “You should go get some sleep.”

  She returned to the guest room but was too wired to rest.

  In the corner, leaning against the wall, was the cello. As it had always been for her, the music was the salve to her soul as she sat down and began
to play, her fingers shifting smoothly along the strings. Her bow stroking alive deep rich tones from the cast-off instrument. She didn’t know how long she played, only that when she was done, her heart raced, her bow arm ached a bit, and the back of her neck was damp with sweat.

  As Caterina laid the hand with the bow on her knee and took in a deep breath, she realized Mick was standing at the door to the room. Arms across his chest. A predator’s look in his gaze. When he took a step toward her, her heartbeat skipped and then accelerated when he kneeled before her and took hold of the bow and cello. Gently he moved them aside. Took the place of the cello between her legs.

  Mick clutched her face between his hands, the action in rough contrast to his earlier approach. The look on his face more fierce. She understood.

  There would be no gentleness in this taking. This was the warrior needing what might possibly be a last taste of life before facing death.

  She grabbed hold of his wrists, her grip tight as she demanded he release her. He did and she shifted forward in the chair. Urged him forward until they were face-to-face and she became the aggressor.

  She kissed him hard, accepting the reason for what would follow. Absolving him of guilt for any lack of tenderness because frankly, she wasn’t sure she could be gentle herself. She needed his loving too much to reaffirm the reality of life.

  He answered her, opening his mouth and accepting the rough thrust of her tongue. Digging his fingers into her scalp to imprison her head as the kiss deepened until every breath they took was one. Until they were both shaking and she needed to feel the heat of his body beside her.

  Inside her.

  She yanked at his clothes as he did hers. Separated from him only long enough to remove them. Then he was kneeling before her again, cradled by the softness of her thighs. The jut of his erection pressed to her midsection.

  She encircled him and stroked the length of him, but he surprised her by brushing away her hand and bending to suckle the tips of her breasts. She cradled his head, holding him close. Raising her hips to invite him to enter, but he tantalized her by shifting downward.