He leaned down, sucking her nipple into his mouth, never breaking rhythm with his hips. Climax built with alarming speed. She didn’t want it to be over so soon.
She leaned back against the mirror and grabbed her knees, pulled her legs wide, surrendered completely. Marc flicked her clit with his fingertips as he thrust hard and deep. She cried out, tightening around him, trembling violently as pleasure inundated her senses.
He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest. Her body vibrated with gentle aftershocks as they kissed. He smiled into her eyes, but Tuesday glanced away, embarrassed by her wantonness.
She’d been so consumed by the intensity of her orgasm she wasn’t even sure if he made it.
“Are you ready for that bath now?” he whispered against her lips.
* * * * *
Tuesday was gone when Marc woke up the following morning. His vidcom rested in the middle of her pillow, the cursor highlighted the memo feature.
He activated the message and held the device in front of him as Tuesday’s smiling face materialized.
“Please don’t be angry. I thought it would be easier if I snuck away while you slept. You would have insisted on flying me home and that would have been dangerous for both of us. The less we’re seen together, the safer we’ll be. At least until this mess with PURE is finished.”
She paused, a mischievous smile curving her lips.
“I suspect you can look in on me anytime you want. I’ll be at the lab trying to figure out how our favorite freak plans to sabotage my heart.” She blew him a kiss and ended the recording.
Marc tossed back the covers and crawled out of bed. She was right. He would have wanted to stay with her as long as possible but his presence didn’t really protect her. His identity put her at risk. If Job somehow learned she was Marc Sinclair’s lover…
Marc blew out a ragged breath. He needed to contact Phil. Had Elijah gone back to the stronghold? How had Job reacted to meeting his queen?
Marc went to the bathroom and retrieved a small packet from the pocket of his pants. Over the years Marc had learned to appreciate Phil’s security toys. He took a thin strip from the packet and pressed the adhesive side across the main door’s seam. If anyone entered the suite, the strip would send a signal to his vidcom.
Grabbing his vidcom and his pistol, he headed for the bathroom. He took a towel from the rack and stepped into the shower stall. “Spray on.”
Images of Tuesday’s soft body flared to life within his mind. Their timing couldn’t be worse, but he wouldn’t regret the emotions stirring within his soul. He’d thought those emotions dead and buried many years ago.
“Intruder alert.”
Jarred from his contented thoughts by the synthesized voice of his vidcom, Marc stepped from the stall and wrapped the towel around his hips. Leaving the shower spray active, he took his pistol and deactivated the safety.
Chances were he was about to scare the hell out of the housekeepers. But he had no intention of gambling with his life. One door led to the main room of the suite, the other to the bedroom. He turned off his vidcom and crept toward the bedroom door.
Easing the portal open, he scanned the room with practiced ease, checking for bulges in the draperies and any change in the furniture’s arrangement.
Nothing.
He crept across the room and inched open the door to the main room of the suite.
The door was jerked open and the intruder collided with Marc, knocking him back into the bedroom with a violent shove. Dressed entirely in black, complete with a translucent mask, the assassin raised his gun and fired. Marc dropped and rolled. The blast seared a wide furrow in the carpeting, trailing behind Marc like a macabre shadow.
Marc spun and kicked the assassin’s legs out from under him, aiming his shot at the other man’s knees. His blast went wide. The assassin laughed, scrambling to his feet.
Launching himself at the assassin, Marc caught him around the thighs. They tumbled to the carpet, Marc on top, the intruder thrashing beneath. Marc pressed his pistol to the other man’s head and slammed his hand against the floor.
“Drop it or die!”
The assassin held tightly to his weapon. Marc jammed his thumb into his wrist and waited for the assassin’s hand to go numb. The intruder bucked and twisted, Marc’s pistol a silent reminder that death was half a heartbeat away.
Marc didn’t want to blow his head off, but the stubborn fool wouldn’t let go. Then the assassin’s fingers went lax and the weapon slipped from his grasp.
Batting it out of reach, Marc snatched the mask off the assassin’s face and sadly shook his head. “What is Job paying you, Elihu?”
Elijah James glared up at him, murder still burning in his gaze. “This has nothing to do with Job. You should have fried a long time ago.”
Marc dragged him to his feet and marched him into the outer room. With his gun carefully trained on Elijah, Marc snatched the braided tiebacks from the drapes.
“Have a seat.” Marc motioned to one of the dining room chairs with his pistol.
Without warning, Elijah lunged for Marc. The pulse from Marc’s gun knocked the younger man backward and he crumpled to the carpeting.
“Have to do everything the hard way,” Marc muttered as he positioned the unconscious man in the chair and bound his arms and legs to the stout metal frame.
While his assassin-turned-hostage was still unconscious Marc dressed and retrieved his vidcom from the bathroom. He kept his pistol in hand in case Elijah tried something stupid again.
Marc paged Phil.
“Cobra here.”
“I just had an unexpected visitor. I’d rather not involve the authorities at this point. Would you care to come collect your prodigal son?”
Elijah was still dazed when Phil arrived twenty minutes later.
“He swears this is personal, but that seems hard to believe.” Marc waited for Phil to conclude his string of profanity before he continued to speak. “Do you think Job ordered the hit?”
“Honestly?”
Marc rolled his eyes. “No, lie to me. Attempted murder isn’t enough excitement to get my morning started.”
“Don’t turn smartass on me.” Phil crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t have the patience and I don’t need the money, so—”
“Why the hell was Elijah here aiming a pulse pistol at me?”
“You’re the grim reaper, the angel of death, a putrid arm spreading pestilence.” Elijah’s voice sounded groggy and slurred.
“Charming imagery.” Marc sneered. “Did they teach you that during your PURE indoctrination?”
“I found you. Job will too. It’s only a matter of time.” Elijah ended the statement with another hateful glare.
“He’s been spouting PURE doctrines since he returned a few days ago. I thought the deprogrammer was getting through to him.”
“Apparently not.”
Phil studied Elijah, disappointment clear in his blue gaze. “I’ll take care of it, Mr. Sinclair. I take full responsibility.”
“Placing blame is a waste of time.” Marc banished the concept with a wave of his arm. “How did he find me and what does he really know? If his conversion is authentic, he could have vital information. He’s seen my new face. He cannot be allowed to notify Job.” He turned to Elijah, his gaze narrowed and menacing. “What is Final PUREification? Tell me now and I’ll let you live.”
“You are the bringer of death, not life. The future is in God’s hands.”
Marc clenched and unclenched his fists, turning back to Phil. “You used to be military. Do you know any good interrogators?”
Phil smirked. “I might. Help me load him in my shuttle and I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday spent the next three days in her lab researching, determined to thwart PURE’s plans. The SP-64 operated on a self-contained power source, with redundant backup cells. The cells recharged once a week while the owner slept. The
wireless recharger was compact and available at any electronic store. The same wireless, rechargeable cells powered everything from vidcoms to handheld workstations.
Had PURE found a way to interrupt or overload the cells? An electromagnetic pulse that would cause mass malfunction?
Except for the minor valve glitch, the design was at optimum. How did PURE hope to use her masterpiece as a weapon for mass murder? It didn’t make sense.
“Have you even been home since I saw you last?” Vonne asked as she strolled through the open door.
“There’s a cot and a shower in the back.” She waved away her friend’s concern.
“Though I appreciate your dedication, I think I can be fined by the Labor Board for things like this.”
Tuesday pushed away from her desk and stood, stretching the stiffness from her back. “No one is making me stay here. Besides, I answer to a higher authority than the Labor Board at the moment.”
“Meaning you answer to a higher authority than me?”
Smiling despite her fatigue, Tuesday rolled her shoulders and moved out from behind her desk. “You’ve always been more of a source of information and support. Browbeating is definitely not your style.”
“For which you are ever grateful?” Vonne asked hopefully.
“I could use a few hours away from here. Clear my head.”
Vonne scowled, practicing her brow beating. “You could use a few days away from here. Why don’t you work from home, or better yet, see if Subject A’s father will take you some place exotic.”
“And leave Subject A?”
“Subject A is being discharged today under the supervision of her nurse.”
Arching a brow, Tuesday considered the significance. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I knew she was recovering remarkably well but I didn’t realize she was ready to go home.”
“Aren’t you and—her father talking?”
“It’s complicated.” She felt a pang of frustration at the understatement.
She had no doubt Job was having her watched. The mediplex had been swept by a team of technicians to remove electronic surveillance devices but she knew Marc still monitored certain areas. He’d jacked into the building’s own security system and the technicians hadn’t found his points of access. If Marc could do it, so could Job. Every time she was with Marc, it increased the chances Job would discover Marc’s identity.
“I know you aren’t officially back at work but can you tell me anything?”
She heaved an audible sigh. She’d known Vonne for most of her adult life. It was hard keeping secrets from her. “I don’t know that much more than you know already, Vonne. But what I do is Top Secret.”
“Figures. Well, I guess the location of Subject A’s father is Top Secret too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He was looking for you up on the Corporate Level. Wanted you to have this.”
She took the scrap of paper from Vonne and smiled.
* * * * *
“You got my note.” Marc swung the door open and breathed in Tuesday’s scent, sweet, lightly floral, enticingly feminine. She swept past him and into the hotel room. He smiled.
“Sorry it took me so long. I stopped at my apartment to freshen up. I got a little obsessed with my research and lost track of the time.”
Brows scrunched together over his eyes, he glanced at his watch. “It’s barely nine.”
“Okay, I lost track of the days.” She laughed. He loved hearing her laugh, wanted to wrap himself in the warm, musical sound and float around the room.
Distracted by the beauty of her elfin features, it took him a moment to realize the significance of what she’d said. “You’ve been at the mediplex since I saw you last, three days ago?”
“I tend to be driven.”
“I’ll say.”
These had been the longest three days of his life. He’d hoped Phil would have a breakthrough with Elijah. If the spy told them what they needed to know, there would be no reason for Tuesday to return to the PURE stronghold.
She’d turned to Marc for comfort after the emotional trauma of meeting Job. Their passionate encounter had been wonderful. But Marc wanted to make certain her feelings ran deeper than a momentary need for comfort.
He ushered her farther into the room and seated her at a small round table. Massive windows framed a spectacular view of the city lights and jutting buildings silhouetted against a blue-black sky. He took the bottle of chilled white wine and filled their glasses. “Any progress? Have you figured out what they’re planning?”
Her jovial mood disintegrated and he wanted to kick himself. Tonight was about romance, candlelight and fantasy. Why’d he go and open his big mouth?
She lifted her wineglass and sipped. He watched her lips, the delicate movement of her throat. “I haven’t a clue and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve tried to anticipate everything but it just doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe we were wrong about the heart. Final PUREification could have nothing to do with the SP-64.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what else it could be. Disabling the SP-64 specifically targets those with Methuselah Syndrome.”
He waved away the subject with his wineglass. “This isn’t why I asked you here. We’ll talk through all your findings and develop a plan first thing in the morning. I want this night to be special. I want it to be for us. We’ve had precious little time together without outside pressures complicating things. Tonight I want to focus entirely on us. No distractions. No interruptions. Just you and me.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks. “Sounds wonderful.”
“I know this all began unconventionally but I promise after the assignment with Job is concluded, we’ll rewind. Or start over. I’ll take you out to dinner and to the theater. Whatever you want.”
“I want you.”
Emotion spiraled through him, passionate and possessive. Green fire lit her gaze and stirred his smoldering desire. So, why was he disappointed by her words? “I need you, Tuesday. This is more than want.”
I love you. He bit back the words before he sent her screaming in terror from the room. Slow, romantic, gentle. He had to approach her carefully.
She pushed back her chair and gulped down the rest of her wine. Bracing herself for what was to come? God, he hoped not. He wanted her wild and willing, not stiff and accepting.
As usual, she wore a gauzy, swirling dress that would have looked ridiculous on anyone but her. She quickly kicked aside her woven leather sandals and grabbed the hem of her dress. Pulling it off over her head, she revealed what little she wore beneath. The tiny scrap of material was hardly worth terming panties.
“Any questions about what I need?” she asked, with a slow sexy smile.
Marc stood, shed his shirt, and shucked his pants faster than he could remember having accomplished the feat in his life. His gaze fixed on that teasing scrap of lace, now her only covering. Shoes and socks quickly followed in a messy heap but unlike her, he shed his briefs.
Mesmerized by the bunch and flex of his magnificent body, Tuesday could only stare. Every taut plane, every ridged muscle, every ripple of definition stimulated her senses and heated her blood. She advanced before he even disentangled himself from his underwear. She had to touch him—there was no way around it. She simply must memorize every contour of his flesh.
He groaned at the first stroke of her eager hands, but stood still and let her explore. His arms circled her loosely, leaving plenty of room to maneuver. Pressing against him, she caressed his broad back and tight buttocks.
“My turn,” he whispered hoarsely, stepping back. He pulled the table away from the window and set the wineglasses aside. Then he helped her hop up onto the smooth tabletop.
She glanced out at the skyline, her eyes widening as she realized the significance of the view. “Someone might see us,” she protested.
“And won’t they be jealous. Let’s share the rest of the wine.”
His
sensual smile assured her he had no interest in crystal goblets. He stepped between her knees and pulled her snugly against his chest. Her breasts and belly pressed against his warm torso. Taking a deep swig directly from the bottle, he carefully sealed his mouth over hers. She angled her head, accepting the intimate link and the trickle of crisp, white wine.
The intoxicating flavor added a new dimension to their kisses. She swallowed the wine and threaded her fingers through his thick hair. Their breaths mingled, their tongues danced. He licked and nibbled his way from her mouth to the sensitive underside of her jaw.
Guiding her hands to the edge of the table behind her and spreading her legs a bit wider, he positioned her for his pleasure. She watched his eyes, warmed by the hunger she saw in his gaze. He retrieved one of the glasses from the floor and poured the rest of the wine into it. She didn’t ask what he intended. Anticipation curled through her, intensifying the persistent throb in her feminine core.
He dipped his fingers in the wine and smiled. “You’re so damn tempting like this, maybe I’ll just pull up a chair and enjoy the view.”
“And maybe I’ll get bored and go home.”
Stepping back between her legs, he painted her gently parted lips with the wine. “A woman who knows what she wants. Gotta love that.”
He bent and licked her lips, not really kissing her, just sampling the wine before it evaporated. Her nipples received the same treatment. Over and over he coated them with wine, then licked them clean. She needed the firm suction of his mouth, but he laved her gently, teasingly, until she arched, frustrated and restless.
Setting the wineglass beside her on the table, he turned his attention to her black lace thong. “This is just plain sexy. Did you buy it for me?”
“I bought it a long time ago. I’ve just never worn it until now.”
Tainted Hearts Page 16
