Changed (Second Sight)

by Hunter, Hazel

  Mac took a moment to catch his breath and glanced back at the door to the lab. His cell phone was on the floor. As he stooped to pick it up, he saw that the call with Tim had ended.

  For a moment, he stared at it.

  Tim had said something–something about food poisoning.

  Mac automatically looked down the hall in front of him and at the place where the kitchen would be on the ground level.

  He knew how Maurice was going to spread the toxin.

  He couldn’t let that happen but, as he took off at a run, his mind railed against him.

  You have to find Isabelle!

  •••••

  Isabelle grunted as Geoffrey’s arm grabbed her from behind, constricted around her middle, and lifted her off her feet. She jackknifed over his arm as the world crazily tilted and she lost any sense of up or down. The only thing she knew was she had to get away. Her feet flailed but didn’t reach the ground. She tried to tug at Geoffrey’s arm but it wouldn’t move. She tried to scream but she couldn’t get a breath.

  In moments though, he’d let her go and she lurched backward.

  With a jarring huff, she landed on the lounge chair, followed immediately by Geoffrey’s hand landing on her chest. He shoved. Her back collided with the inclined cushion and suddenly Geoffrey’s face was in front of her.

  “If you want rough,” he said as his lips curled into a snarl. “You got rough.”

  His fingers wound into her hair and yanked, as his mouth smashed down on hers.

  “No!” she tried to scream but her voice was muffled by his lips.

  She tried to bite him.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he yelled, pulling quickly away.

  As he held her head down, his teeth bit into her neck.

  “No!” she screamed. “Stop!”

  His hand clamped down over her mouth.

  “Not so loud,” he said against her throat. “I haven’t given you anything to scream about.” He bit her under the jaw. “Yet.”

  His weight pressed down on her chest but she realized with a shock that her hands were free. She tried to hit him but her arms wouldn’t cooperate. She tried to scratch him but found she couldn’t with the gloves.

  His slobbering bites were working their way down her throat, her chest.

  No!

  Isabelle found his head, grabbed two handfuls of hair, and pulled.

  Suddenly, the pressure on her body disappeared.

  “Okay,” Geoffrey said. “That’s enough.”

  For a moment, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She raised her head to find that she was alone.

  “Oh god,” she breathed.

  Using the arm of the chair, she tugged herself into a sitting position. The deck tilted and swayed but was empty. Where had he gone? It didn’t matter. This was her chance.

  But, as she tried to stand, her legs crumpled underneath her. Instead of getting up, she slid off the side of the lounge. With a jolt, she dropped to the deck, sitting hard on her own legs.

  No, no, no. Get up!

  But now, with nothing to grab, she could barely sit up straight. She twisted in place and threw one arm over the cushion. Though she pulled with all her might, she couldn’t move her own weight.

  “Here we are,” said Geoffrey. Her shoulder was wrenched around so fast her head couldn’t keep up. But when she finally turned to face him, a glass was forced into her mouth. “Drink up,” he said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “FBI!” MAC YELLED as he ran into the main dining room. “FBI!”

  One woman near him screeched and dropped her plate. It crashed to the floor as she cowered away.

  Mac thrust his badge up into the air.

  “I’m FBI Special Agent MacMillan and the food has been poisoned!”

  Incredulous stares met him. A man in the corner stood up. The woman who had dropped her plate backed away from the spilled food.

  But no one else moved.

  They looked at their plates and each other.

  “It’s botulism,” Mac said. “Maurice has tainted it with botulism.”

  One of the women at a table to his left stood.

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said, her face contorted in anger. Her pregnancy ballooned in front of her, her hands holding it. “Dr. Girod would never do such a thing.”

  Another woman stood up next to her.

  “We all eat together!” the other woman said, looking around her, motioning for others to stand.

  “Geoffrey wouldn’t poison us!” said another pregnant woman as she struggled to her feet.

  “It’s not Geoffrey!” Mac said, pocketing his badge. “It’s Maurice. Dr. Maurice Giraudot not Girod. If you want to see the dead lab rats, you only have to follow me.” He jabbed his thumb back at the hallway. “They’re right upstairs.” He turned his glare on the two women standing together. “Do you want to see?”

  “It’s a lie,” said the first one but she didn’t seem quite as sure of herself.

  “Then eat,” Mac said. He looked at the bowl of stew in front of her. “Do you really want to take that risk?”

  “Wait,” said the woman who’d dropped her plate. She turned to a young woman who barely looked eighteen. She’d just arrived at the dining hall behind Mac and was staring into the room, her mouth open. “Jackie,” said the woman. “Do you remember? When we were chopping in the kitchen?”

  Jackie stopped staring at Mac and finally turned her eyes to the woman.

  “Remember?” Jackie said. “Remember what?”

  “Remember Dr. Maurice? He was taking a measurement in the kitchen.”

  “No,” someone seated at one of the long tables said. “No, he was taking a sample.”

  “Geoffrey interrupted him,” said someone else.

  The sound of chairs scooting away from the tables started to fill the air.

  “I’ve already eaten!” screamed someone.

  “Me too!” yelled someone else.

  “Stay calm,” Mac yelled over the growing din. “Help is on its way. Stay calm!”

  •••••

  Rough was all well and good but Geoffrey didn’t need his hair pulled.

  Or his face scratched. He’d had too many surgeries to risk that.

  It never did to bruise the girls either. Memory loss didn’t hide a bruise.

  “Drink up,” he muttered.

  Isabelle had sunk to the deck, the chaise lounge behind her the only thing keeping her upright. He stood over her, straddling her, his knees pinning her shoulders back, making her thrust her chest out. With a deft movement he’d done many times before, he quickly pinched her nose and forced her head back. Her mouth automatically opened and he poured the tea in. Though she quickly shut her mouth, it’d been enough. Geoffrey tossed the glass aside and held her mouth shut.

  Isabelle’s eyes went wide as she realized what he was doing. Though she tried to grab his hands, her pinned shoulders wouldn’t allow her arms enough range of motion. They virtually flopped at her sides. She was sitting on her own legs and, as he gave her head a quick shake, she tried to jerk away.

  “Swallow,” he said, bringing his face close to hers. “Be a good girl and swallow or you’ll choke.”

  Though he thought for a moment that she might actually strangle, she finally swallowed.

  He let her nose go and her nostrils immediately flared and she sucked in air. She tried to reach for the hand that covered her mouth but Geoffrey had had enough of the biting. His tongue was sore and throbbing. He grabbed her hair and forced her head back even farther. He’d waited this long, he could wait five more minutes.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AS MAC FINALLY enlisted the aid of some of the cooler heads, they began to separate those who’d eaten something, anything, from those who hadn’t. A couple of people had called for emergency rescue, apparently not believing help was already coming. But at least pandemonium had been averted. Plates of uneaten food were everywhere. Word had also been sent to the other dining
rooms in the dorms. But, in all of this, no one had seen either Maurice or Geoffrey.

  Or Isabelle.

  Though he’d already tried once, there was no better way to cover the entire commune than the security monitors. They had to be somewhere on the premises. Mac backed out of the dining room and, in moments, he was bounding up the stairs. Almost like a routine now, he quickly rounded the corner into the hallway where the monitors were. As he got there, the door was just closing. He glimpsed the back of someone who’d just entered–someone wearing a white lab coat.

  Mac half-opened, half-kicked the door open. It sailed through the air, colliding with the wall and bouncing back with a loud bang. The ploy had its desired effect as Dr. Maurice Giraudot jumped into the air.

  “Hello, doctor,” Mac said. He grabbed him by the lapels and threw him against the wall. Maurice’s head knocked against it and his glasses fell off. “Here to observe your handiwork?”

  “Take your hands off me!” Maurice said.

  Mac put his forearm across the doctor’s throat and pushed.

  “Where is Isabelle?”

  “I don’t know,” Maurice managed to squeak. He grabbed Mac’s arm and tried to move it.

  Mac pushed harder.

  “Where is she?”

  Maurice’s eyes bulged.

  “I…don’t…know,” he whispered.

  “Tell me,” Mac snarled. “Or you will die. Before anyone gets here,” Mac said as he shoved again, “I’ll kill you.” He eased off. “Where is she?”

  “I…” Maurice’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Geof…frey,” he mouthed.

  “And where is Geoffrey?”

  Maurice flicked his eyes toward the door.

  “Third door,” he wheezed.

  •••••

  Geoffrey took Isabelle under the arms and lifted.

  “There we go,” he said, straining a little as he hauled her up.

  From where she sat on the deck, he only had to get her up to the chaise lounge. Her petite frame was light and her struggling had almost stopped. Even so, he wanted to be careful not to hurt his back. He’d already done that once. He used his legs to lift and then moved her backward. Quickly, he settled her down on the cushion and let her fall sideways.

  “No,” she muttered as she landed with a soft thud.

  Geoffrey lifted her legs onto the lounge and rolled her to her back.

  “There,” he said, standing and gazing down at her.

  He hardly knew where to start.

  The lounge was barely wide enough for him to straddle her but he managed with his knees at her waist. As he sat on her hips, though, she tried to sit up.

  “No,” she said, the gorgeous eyes half-closed, her hands batting the air. “Geoffey–” she slurred. He easily pushed her back and she landed with another thud and a little grunt. God it was sexy how she said his name. His arousal throbbed in his shorts and he quickly grabbed her breasts.

  “Oh yeah,” he said. Exactly what he’d thought. The flesh plump but firm–young. He squeezed. Her hands found his wrists. He squeezed harder. Her fingers tugged futilely at his arms. He squeezed harder. A whimpering moan escaped her and her hips squirmed underneath him.

  “Stop,” she breathed. “Please.”

  The way she begged–it was perfect. To hell with the foreplay.

  He grabbed the light blouse at the neck’s v-line and ripped. He felt like he could have ripped leather. His chest swelled with the effort as the fabric gave way. Isabelle managed to grasp at it, trying to hold it together.

  “Oh no,” he said. “You’ve teased me long enough.”

  The blouse ripped completely in two.

  Geoffrey threw the torn edges aside and gazed down at what he’d revealed. Her body was gorgeous, the olive skin flawless, the hourglass shape of her no longer just a hint. But as his groin throbbed, she tried to cover herself with her gloved hands. He easily captured them, took both wrists in one hand, and pinned them on the cushion over her head. As he leaned down on top of her, his arousal pressed into her flat stomach and he cupped her through the satiny bra. Though she tried weakly to raise her head, he easily pressed it back into the cushion with his own.

  “Got you,” he hissed and then his mouth clamped down over hers.

  He plunged his tongue into her, no longer worried about her biting. She’d become more and more lethargic, less coordinated, and definitely weaker. Though it’d taken a second dose, the roofie was finally doing its job. He worked furiously on her mouth, the tender lips no longer pushing back. He devoured her, anxious to move on, and yet thrilled just to be kissing her. Slowly, her jaw went slack.

  Geoffrey drew back and smiled. Isabelle’s eyes were closed. He let her wrists go and her hands fell limply at her sides. He stared down at her breasts, squeezing the one he still cupped. He watched it give, bulge between his fingers. His arousal felt like it would burst. He needed to be quick.

  He got up on his knees and lifted Isabelle a little higher on the lounge. Her head tilted back over the top edge of the cushion, her neck completely relaxed, her lips parted. He spread the ripped blouse wide open. His hands landed on her breasts again but quickly smoothed down her flat stomach to her hips.

  The skirt. He should have unzipped that before he’d laid her down. No matter. He’d noticed from her very first visit that she didn’t wear panty hose. He backed up a little and flipped the hem of her skirt up, revealing delicate, pink-laced panties that could easily be moved aside.

  No problem, he thought, unzipping his fly.

  •••••

  As Maurice slid to the floor, unconscious, Mac flew through the door and into the hallway. Third door on the left.

  He counted them.

  One.

  He had no intention of picking any more locks. As he passed the second door, he picked up steam, pushed with his thighs and led with his shoulder. Like a battering ram, he crashed into the third door as splintered wood flew in every direction and he barreled through.

  “Isabelle!” he yelled. The stench of Geoffrey’s cologne was everywhere. “Isabelle!”

  The plush living room was empty. Neither Isabelle or–

  There was a loud thump from beyond the sliding glass window to his left. Mac crossed the room in seconds, grabbed the handle and threw the door open, slamming it on its rubber stopper. He thrust the screen door to the left so hard it came off its rail.

  “Isabelle!” he yelled.

  Sprawled on a deck chair, obviously unconscious, Isabelle was nearly naked. Her shirt was open, her skirt hiked up, her eyes–

  In a heartbeat, Mac was kneeling next to her. Quickly, he put an ear to her chest and a hand to her diaphragm. Her heart was good and strong, her breathing deep and regular. But, as he carefully thumbed an eyelid open, there was no doubt she was unconscious. Quickly, Mac reached for her hands. The gloves were on.

  Thank god.

  He’d just been about to lift her head when he heard a loud thud behind him. Mac immediately swiveled his head to see Geoffrey–sprawled several yards away, not far from another sliding door. Like some clown act, his shorts were around his ankles. He clutched at them and tried to get up at the same time.

  Mac jumped to his feet.

  “I didn’t do it!” Geoffrey screamed, putting a hand up in defense.

  A roar of pure animal rage erupted from deep in Mac’s chest and he launched.

  Geoffrey’s face went white.

  “I didn’t have sex!” Geoffrey screamed, his voice impossibly high. Mac was barely aware of the sound of ripping fabric as he yanked Geoffrey up by the back of his collar and dragged him to the deck railing. “No!” Geoffrey wailed. “I didn’t–” Mac slammed Geoffrey’s face into the wood. He grabbed a fistful of hair to keep Geoffrey on his feet and yanked his head back. “No,” Geoffrey tried to say around the blood pooling in his mouth.

  Even as Geoffrey’s legs sagged, Mac’s entire body trembled with fury. But as he was about to throw Geoffrey’s hea
d down again, Mac realized he heard something. Water dripping. He looked down. Urine was leaking from Geoffrey’s white briefs. Though Mac let Geoffrey sink to his knees, he kept a hold of his hair. Blood poured from his flattened nose and one of his eye teeth was broken.

  In the distance, Mac heard the faint sound of multiple sirens and glanced back at Isabelle, who hadn’t moved.

  Mac’s jaw tightened so hard his teeth crunched together. As though he were a rag doll, Mac dragged Geoffrey to the lounge where Isabelle lay. He shook Geoffrey’s head viciously.

  “What did you do to her,” Mac snarled. “Is it botulism?”

  Blood from Geoffrey’s mouth and nose spattered everywhere.

  “What?” he said, sounding like he had a cold. “I don’t…No!”

  “Goddammit,” Mac said, putting his mouth right next to the man’s ear. “If you don’t tell me what you did to her, I’m going to rip the lips off your face.”

  “Roofie,” Geoffrey said, through the swelling in his mouth, his broken tooth whistling. “Roofie.”

  Mac glared down at him, incredulous.

  The date rape drug?

  His fist tightened in Geoffrey’s hair and, for a moment, he nearly dragged him back to the deck railing. But, to Mac’s astonishment, the man’s face suddenly screwed up and he cried.

  As Mac scowled in revulsion, he let Geoffrey go with a rough shove and turned back to Isabelle.

  A roofie. If she’d had it with alcohol…his eyes landed on a glass that had rolled up against a leg of the lounge.

  As Geoffrey curled into a fetal position, Mac snatched up the glass and took a sniff. A roofie would be odorless but not alcohol. The two together could be deadly, especially for someone Isabelle’s size. But the glass only smelled of something fruity. No alcohol. Quickly, Mac stooped over Isabelle, lowered the hem of her skirt, and folded the ripped halves of her blouse over her chest. He lay the glass down on her midsection and then gently picked her up behind the knees and shoulders.