Tainted Hearts

by Cyndi Friberg

  * * * * *

  Marc had called ahead to forewarn her of his coming, but Tuesday’s stomach still did a little somersault when she opened the door.

  “Mr. Sinclair,” she greeted.

  “Ms. Fitzpatrick.”

  He stepped past her and entered the apartment. After locking the door, she turned and found herself in his arms. He pressed her against the door and sealed his mouth over hers, capturing her startled gasp. His hands stroked her hips and cupped her butt, while he touched and tasted her with bold sweeps of his tongue.

  She made a small distressed sound as he tore his mouth from hers. Panting softly, she watched him rake his fingers through his hair, then push away from the door. “What was that about?”

  “I just wanted to make damn sure you understand this isn’t strictly business.”

  She touched her still tingling lips, her gaze following his casual stride as he crossed the living room. She’d been ready for him this time—she thought. Dressed in a softly flowing skirt and silky blouse that made her feel feminine and attractive, she’d waited for his arrival. But she’d expected polite, reserved Mr. Sinclair, not this prowling…sexual…

  “Can I have something to drink?”

  Forcing her gaze away from his tight rear end, she asked, “What would you like?”

  “What have you got?”

  “Well, coffee, or—”

  “Do you have a caffeine addiction or something?” He chuckled.

  “Too many hours in the lab.”

  He followed her into the kitchen and accepted a steaming mug of her favorite brew. “Did you have dinner before you arrived?”

  “Yeah. Bettencourt returned my solar shuttle, so I’ve been home and back.”

  A certain catch in his tone made her narrow her eyes. Why would he lie to her about something so simple? “How is Elise?”

  “Sleepy.”

  Tuesday nodded, consciously releasing the tension gathering between her shoulder blades. She wanted to trust him, needed to trust him. So why were her instincts being so contrary?

  “They’ll continue to keep her sedated for a day or two. There hasn’t been any sign of infection or any other complication and the SP-65 is performing perfectly.”

  “I know.”

  She couldn’t read his expression. Did she even want to know what he was thinking in his current mood? She’d never seen him like this, wasn’t even sure what “this” was. He inhaled the steam, then took a slow sip from his mug. His eyes closed as he savored the beverage.

  Now, she’d seen that expression before. His features had relaxed into this same nearly rapturous arrangement as he touched her, stripped her, stimulated her senses until…

  “You didn’t explain what—” She paused to clear her throat. “What you’re doing here.”

  “The president is tired of waiting.” He looked right into her eyes. “And so am I.”

  “That better be two different issues.” She hid her embarrassed smile with a quick sip from her mug.

  “We’ll deal with one issue and then explore the other.” He paused and raked his fingers through his hair. “Your official mission briefing has begun.”

  “Why don’t we have a seat in the living room?” She motioned beyond him with her mug. “I suspect this is going to be a complicated conversation.”

  He nodded and followed her into the front room. “If Rahab has been conditioned for a month or more, she may not want to be rescued. She might well be a liability rather than an asset.”

  “There’s no way to know until we get inside. Is there?” They sat down together pivoting slightly toward each other.

  “It’s best if we prepare ourselves for the worst. Tell me what you know about PURE. And tell me honestly what you think about them.”

  She crossed her legs and considered the question. “I know they operated underground for several years before Job emerged as their leader. Was he always in charge or was it his rise to power that shifted the approach of the organization?”

  “Accounts vary widely but it appears that Job was always at the center of the storm.”

  He paused, so she continued with her account of PURE. “I guess the Ratings Act was their first political success. No one really knew who they were until after they lobbied for mandatory ratings.”

  “How did you vote for the bill?”

  Nervously fiddling with her skirt, she admitted, “I supported it.”

  He took her hand and pulled it away from her mangled skirt. She lifted her gaze to his. “Why wouldn’t you? The way they spun it, it made perfect sense. It was in the public’s best interest to know how far the mutation had spread. The data gathered because of the Ratings Act allowed the identification of genetic patterns and certain predispositions to the syndrome.”

  “But they took it way too far.” She curved her legs to the side, tucking her skirt around them. “The Public Registry has created a form of prejudice that didn’t exist before.”

  “And it’s that prejudice PURE exploits. You’ve read their literature. Tell me what they believe.”

  “PURE believes that those who have refrained from the temptations of vanity shouldn’t be subjected to the—how did they put it—righteous judgment of those who failed to resist the temptation.”

  He caught the hem of her skirt and pushed it up, revealing her bare toes. She laughed and slapped his hand away.

  “In other words,” she dragged out the syllable until his gaze focused on her face. “According to PURE, anyone who ended up with Methuselah Syndrome only got what they deserved.”

  “Yeah. Explain that to Elise.”

  “Elise is suffering from the sin of her father, another biblical principle.” His gaze narrowed, but he made no comment. “Let’s move beyond the obvious. PURE’s ultimate goal is to segregate those untainted by the genetic abnormality until those with it have died out. Then they’ll repopulate the earth with PURE people.”

  “And if we tainted people take too long to die off, Job and his merry men will resort to murder.”

  “If they’re really that fanatical, wouldn’t they be after me too? My life’s work is keeping tainted people alive.” He didn’t respond and a chill skittered down Tuesday’s spine. Lowering her feet to the floor, she pivoted to face him. “You think I’m a target?”

  “You can’t underestimate Job’s dedication to his cause. I think he wants to recruit you, but if you prove uncooperative, don’t doubt that he’ll PUREify you.”

  Rubbing her arms, she pushed to her feet and moved to the other side of the coffee table. He couldn’t be serious. Why would the president even consider sending her to the PURE stronghold if she was a target? “Does Bettencourt know about this?”

  “I don’t know what Bettencourt knows or thinks he knows. You asked for me to supervise you and I’m not sending you in blind.”

  He lounged on the sofa, his arm extended along the back, the picture of self-assured elegance. She wanted to rumple his hair and wrinkle his shirt. How could he be so calm? “All right. While we’re being brutally honest here, explain to me what conditioning means and why any woman with a brain doesn’t just walk away from PURE?”

  “That’s a complicated question. I’m not a psychologist, but I know they target people who are isolated, people who crave affiliation. Their scouts figure out which sort of person a potential recruit will most readily respond to and then that’s who the recruit will happen to meet. Many people don’t need to be recruited; they come to PURE of their own free will.”

  “But why?”

  “Perhaps their Purity Rating is the only thing in their life that has ever made them feel special, important.”

  “God, you’ve just described Sydney to a tee. What did your security people say about her?”

  His head inclined in a faint nod. “They agree. She’s under continual surveillance. If a recruiter goes near her, I’ll know.”

  She couldn’t think about potential threats right now, she had to focus on the mission. “
You said women are treated like slaves. Once they realize what’s expected of them why—”

  “Tuesday, the line between submission and slavery can blur. Pleasure can be addictive. They change the expectations so gradually she doesn’t realize they’ve moved from submission to servitude. Besides, it’s only slavery when the woman is forced to submit.”

  She shivered, her mind filled with unpleasant images, unwanted images. Leo had given her a taste of sexual slavery—do what I want, when I want. She’d been an unimportant receptacle for his lust.

  What Marc hinted at seemed very different. Was it possible for a woman to want a man enough to willingly submit to him? To surrender herself completely? Pleasure could be addictive? She swallowed hard. She’d had her first glimpse at carnal pleasure in Marc’s embrace and it had only been a glimpse.

  “What are you thinking about?” His deep voice interrupted her sensual thoughts. “Your skin is a barometer for your mind. You’re being naughty.”

  She smiled and looked away. “I don’t think that’s what the Scriptures had in mind when they told wives to submit to their husbands.”

  He waited until she returned her gaze to his. “The pleasurable sort of submission enjoyed by consenting adults isn’t what’s going on at PURE. Job trains his disciples to manipulate and control with a classic combination of excess and neglect. They inundate the recruits with attention and praise until they crave it, then intentionally withhold it until they’re desperate to please. It’s emotional abuse, pure and simple.”

  “PURE and simple?”

  Chuckling softly, he continued. “And then there’s Job himself. They’ve created such a mystique that anyone who actually meets him feels as if they’re in the presence of royalty. I’ve heard he’s charming and articulate. And very persuasive.”

  “It’s hard to imagine that one man can possess all of these attributes. How can a charismatic social reformist also murder without a thought?”

  “Horrible things are frequently done in the name of justice and morality.”

  She folded her hands in front of her, tension knotting her belly. “So, Mr. Supervisor, what’s your plan? How do we rescue Rahab without getting me killed?”

  Chapter Ten

  Job turned from the window as Rahab entered his office. With her head bowed, her eyes downcast, she moved with measured precision. Was she afraid of him? Not likely. It was more like she attempted to minimize herself, to draw as little attention as possible.

  Her contradictions were driving him to distraction. All the background information she’d provided checked out but something didn’t fit. Identities could be faked, information planted. He had no real reason to doubt her, except for this nagging feeling that something about her was…wrong.

  “What have you learned?” He watched her closely as she answered.

  “Elihu didn’t return to the stronghold again last night. We can only presume he has yet to accomplish his mission.”

  She clasped her slender hands in front of her as if to hide their trembling, but there was no hesitation in her voice. “I know that, Rahab. What of your mission? How are you progressing?”

  Shifting her weight, she glanced toward the chairs arranged before his desk. Job ignored her discomfort. He liked the shape of her lithe body, enjoyed it far too much to deprive himself of its symmetry. Perhaps he would have her disrobe. Her skin was flawless and fine.

  “I have only uncovered fragments of information, sir. I apologize for not having made more progress.”

  Again, her words indicated a meekness he didn’t sense from little Rahab. “Look at me.” Her light brown gaze met his and held. Ah, there it was, the spirit she tried so hard to conceal. “Take down your hair and stop pretending to be afraid of me. You please me more with your fire.”

  Something ignited within her stare, intense and cutting. He took a step closer, fascinated. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she despised him.

  “As you wish.” She unfastened her hair and arranged the brown strands about her shoulders. “Does this please you, sir?”

  His gaze moved across her delicate features, assessing and thorough. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

  “I came from the Data Center, as you requested.”

  She dared to smile. Job suppressed his urge to slap her. Her spirit amused him, even as it infuriated him. He hadn’t felt more than a passing interest in a woman for a very long time. Too bad she wasn’t a 0.0 or he might have blessed her with his child.

  “If you lie to me, I will beat you, Rahab. I sense deception in you and I don’t like it. Why have you come to PURE? You used Elihu to get to me. Tell me why.”

  Her gaze never wavered from his but despondency settled over her expression. “If I speak honestly, will you punish me?”

  He laughed. “Only if the punishment would please you.”

  “It would not.”

  “Then, speak.”

  Slowly, her tongue moved across her lips and desire surged through Job, heating his blood, making his muscles tense. Why did she have to be tainted? He hadn’t felt this exhilarated in years.

  “If my answer displeases you, will you—”

  “Speak!”

  “I don’t want to be here,” she said emphatically. “I came to PURE because I have nowhere else to go. It was either submit to your rules or sell my body in a Pleasure Lounge. You simply had more to offer.”

  “You’re not moved by our mission? You don’t accept the PURE vision?” He glowered at her, but inside he was laughing. It all made sense now, her ambition, her suppressed resentment. He knew her conversion hadn’t been genuine.

  “I see value in what you’re trying to accomplish, but mostly, sir, I’m just trying to survive. I was hungry and desperate when Elihu found me. He attempted to train me, but I sensed weakness in him. When the opportunity presented itself for me to align myself with someone in whom I sensed no weakness, I seized it.”

  Job couldn’t contain his laughter any longer. Oh, how refreshing! She intended to use him. “And now that you have aligned yourself with me, what do you intend to do with me?”

  “Whatever pleases—us.”

  He scowled in earnest. Did the fool actually imagine she was his equal? She wasn’t even pure! He must instruct her, reveal the error of her thinking. She might be unworthy of his seed but there were other ways she could pleasure him.

  “Tell me what you learned today,” he digressed.

  “General Bettencourt has returned to the mediplex three times since the meeting. Tuesday Fitzpatrick hasn’t been in her office but she has been in the building and—”

  “What? She’s been in the mediplex and still Elihu failed to apprehend her? Has he reported in? When was the last time we heard from him?”

  She fidgeted, her gaze dropping to her folded hands. “I haven’t seen him since our last meeting.”

  “Damn it. This can’t be good.” He stomped behind his desk and sat. “Rahab, send David to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He called her name again when she reached the door. “When I finish speaking with David, I intend to retire for the night. I’ll begin with a leisurely bath. Is my body slave prepared to attend me?”

  “Of course, sir.” She inclined her head and departed.

  * * * * *

  Marc watched Tuesday pace on the other side of the coffee table. Her fluttery skirt swirled out behind her with each pass. She’d caught her hair up in a messy excuse for a style that looked as if it would tumble down at any moment. Sheer and black, her blouse had a scalloped panel that protected her modesty, while allowing her shoulders and the majority of her back to remain visible. Damn fine choice.

  “Do you have a plan?” She faced him, head tilted just so, challenge gleaming in her bright green eyes.

  He sensed her conflicting emotions, impatience, trepidation and desire. His body responded with ready enthusiasm to her smoldering passion. They would indulge their hunger tonight and sleep naked in each other�
�s arms before they focused entirely on the mission.

  “Oh, I definitely have a plan.”

  She arched one eyebrow sharply. “Regarding Rahab or just our extracurricular activities?”

  “Do you want to be an extracurricular activity?” He grinned.

  “Not until we figure out what we’re going to do about Rahab.”

  Patting the sofa beside him, he struggled to reel in his grin. “Come sit down.”

  She batted her eyelashes at him. “Shall I sit on your lap?”

  “Yes please.”

  She sat in the chair facing him. “I’m listening.”

  Bare toes shouldn’t be so alluring. She had a gold ring on the second toe of her right foot. Why was he this captivated by her naked feet? If her feet were bare, chances were her calves were bare and calves led to knees and knees to thighs. Oh, he liked thighs…

  “Now who’s being naughty?”

  He didn’t bother to deny it. His thoughts were definitely naughty. “When was the last time Job contacted you?” He shook away the sensual images swirling through his mind.

  “The day you kidnapped me.”

  “Okay, tomorrow you’re going to contact him. You’re going to explain that one of the employees from Sinclair-Dietrich kidnapped you and forced you to—”

  “You want me to tell him about that?”

  “Yes and no. Tell him as much about the situation as you want, as long as you don’t give him anything specific enough to link it to me personally. It will give you a motivation for seeking him out.”

  “How?”

  “One of the tainted lunatics from Sinclair-Dietrich terrorized you and forced you to move the SP-65 into human trials before you were ready. You hate being manipulated and you’ve had it with all of the needy masses dictating your life. You nearly died at the hands of one of the animals you’ve been foolishly trying to help.”

  “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should just let you all die as nature intended?” She shuddered. “I’m not sure I can be convincing.”