Tainted Hearts

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Something already begun,” Tuesday suggested. “If the plans are set in place and all his followers have to do is allow them to play out, even Job’s death wouldn’t affect the outcome.”

  Bettencourt nodded, but turned back to Raeanne. “Were you able to discover anything else?”

  “I found a computer file titled F_PURE, but I wasn’t able to break the encryption. That’s not my area of expertise.” She stood at the foot of the table, her hands locked behind her back. Tuesday found it all fascinating; it had a sort of barbaric charm.

  Raeanne continued her report. “I spotted a file entitled John_11_35. Job loved biblical imagery. I thought it was the encryption key, but no such luck.”

  “So the only real lead we have is this F_PURE file.” Bettencourt absently stroked his chin.

  “Yes, sir. I undocked Job’s personal CPU before we left his office.” She produced the palm-size device and set it on the tabletop. “It takes a retinal scan to activate it, so I’m not sure how useful it will be.”

  “Any good hacker can get around biometric security. I’ll make the arrangements as soon as we’re finished.”

  “You have a security specialist in the next room,” Tuesday told him. “My sister writes code for a living. In her misspent youth, she hacked into systems and left messages explaining how she’d done it.”

  “She could have charged obscene amounts of money for the information,” Raeanne pointed out. “Why would she give it away?”

  “Purely for the challenge. Well, it landed her a job with one of the top network security companies in the world, so I guess it was more than just the challenge.”

  Bettencourt stood. “There’s a workroom two doors down. We’ll provide her with whatever she needs. Report to me when…when you have something to report.”

  * * * * *

  “I can’t believe I was so gullible.” Sydney sat on a cot in a closet-sized room, clearly designed for temporary use. “Even after everything you said, I fought the idea that Job was evil. It was only when I heard his message taunting you that I…”

  Tuesday knelt and wrapped her uninjured arm around Sydney’s back. Her cracked wrist now sported a splint, but she instinctively protected it anyway.

  “I understand. I’d been warned, told about Raeanne’s fiancé but I found myself wanting to believe his lies. He was insidious, like a poison that smells nice and tastes sweet.”

  “What will happen to the others? There were hundreds of people living in that complex. And think how many more are involved.”

  “That’s where you come in. They’re planning something big and we have to figure out what it is. Raeanne has an encrypted file she believes is important. Are you up to a little hacking?”

  “Hell yes. I’ll do whatever I can.” She pushed to her feet and pulled Tuesday up off the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I get sick just thinking about what could have happened.”

  “You’ve never listen to me.” Tuesday smiled. “Why should this have been different?”

  Sydney didn’t argue; she just turned toward the door. “Just for the record, you look like shit. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you if I learn anything new.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marc stepped outside the nondescript building and leaned back against the rough concrete wall. Tension gathered between his eyes, pounding into his head. He’d never been so frightened in his life. It had been so damn close, much too close. He wasn’t equipped for this. He was a scientist, a businessman.

  A deep chuckle interrupted his self-recriminations. “You remained remarkably composed for a scientist,” Geoff said from the shadows.

  “Thank you, I think.” He waited for the younger man to join him in the moonlight. “So you’re an anomaly too? I almost had myself convinced I imagined how fast you moved.”

  “I’m telepathic and mildly clairvoyant, but my most useful mutation is preternatural speed.”

  “Fast and strong, that’s definitely a handy combination for a soldier.” Marc heaved a ragged sigh. “Did you update Cobra?”

  “Yes, sir. He appreciates your allowing him to remain in the shadows.”

  He shot Geoff a sidelong glance. “I’m not his only employer, am I?”

  “You’ll have to ask Cobra about that.”

  Marc smiled. Unless his instincts had failed him completely, Bettencourt wasn’t the only one involved in “Black Ops shit”.

  “How long have you known him?” Marc asked.

  “Longer than I care to admit. Let’s just say Methuselah worked its magic on me in more ways than one. I’m a hell of a lot older than I look.”

  “You aren’t still taking…” One glance in Geoff’s eyes told him all he needed to know. To maintain his extraordinary abilities, Geoff willingly sacrificed his health and any hope he had of fathering healthy children. “Is it worth it?”

  “It was today.”

  Marc shook his head. This wasn’t the first indication he’d come across that Methuselah was still being produced. An underground lab or government funded project, he had no way of knowing. More mysteries for another day.

  He glanced away and Geoff departed as suddenly as he’d arrived. Was Phil more involved with the Reporters than he had led Marc to believe? Was he protecting those with genetic anomalies or exploiting them? Geoff’s loyalty made it hard to believe Phil was one of the bad guys. Still, the lines between right and wrong had become hopelessly blurred since the epidemic.

  Dragging his vidcom out of his pocket, he selected a scrambled channel and sent an audio page to his house.

  “Hello, Mr. Sinclair.” His housekeeper responded. How odd. He’d expected Laura to answer the call. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was just checking in. How is Elise and where is Laura?”

  “Elise is sound asleep and Laura stepped out for the night.” He heard a warm chuckle, then, “I think she had a date. It’s about time if you ask me.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. Laura’s social life had been practically nonexistent ever since Elise was born. “It doesn’t look like I’ll make it home tonight. I’ll update you as soon as my schedule solidifies.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing. Elise is doing wonderfully.”

  “I appreciate your devotion. Enjoy what’s left of the night.” Turning back toward the side door of the building, Marc nearly collided with Bettencourt.

  “Are you working for Phil Carey?” the general demanded without preamble.

  Marc smiled and slipped his vidcom back into his pocket. “I don’t work for anyone, unless you count my father of course.”

  Bettencourt’s gaze narrowed and suspicion radiated off him in blistering waves. “Is Phil Carey working for you?”

  “I have thousands of employees. You can’t expect me to remember them all. If you’ll excuse me.” He tried to brush past the other man but Bettencourt grabbed his arm. “I sure as hell don’t work for you.” Marc glared at the offending hand until Bettencourt released him.

  “I thought Phil retired. Obviously, I was wrong. Tell him I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  Marc didn’t dignify the order with a response. He opened the door and slipped inside the building. After checking on Sydney to make sure she had everything she needed, he went in search of Tuesday.

  The day’s events had been traumatic for everyone, but Tuesday had been blindsided by Job’s aggression. Just the thought of her terror sent a fresh spike of fury shooting through Marc.

  Sydney had directed him to a room near the infirmary. He knocked on the door and waited for a response.

  Raeanne rounded a corner and flashed a knowing smile. “I sent her to the officers’ quarters. She deserved better than that dismal cell.”

  “This room was good enough for Sydney.”

  “Sydney didn’t save my life.”

  “Not yet. She’s working on it.”

  “If she cracks the code, I’ll give her my room.” With another unexpected smile, Raean
ne continued down the corridor.

  “Wait. Where are the officers’ quarters?”

  “Take a left past the gym. She’s in the second room on the right.”

  Marc followed Raeanne’s directions and peeked into the shadowed room. Tuesday lay on her side, one of her hands tucked under her cheek. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, surrounding her face in curls. He let the door close behind him, mesmerized by her delicate beauty.

  A murmur escaped her throat, drawing Marc toward the bunk. She moved her splinted wrist above her head and rolled onto her back. Distress rippled from her and tension constricted Marc’s chest. He didn’t want her to be afraid. He wanted her out of harm’s way and relaxed enough to do something utterly frivolous. She’d been the world’s champion too long. She deserved to be happy.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and took her uninjured hand between his. “I’m here, love. You’re safe.” His gaze drifted across her features and settled on the splint immobilizing her wrist. Why couldn’t his genetic mutation have given him the ability to take away her pain?

  She moved again, faster now, anxiety increasing her restlessness.

  “Tuesday.” He touched her soft cheek, his tone firm yet caring. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

  A violent shudder passed through her body and Marc scooped her into his arms. She clung to him, fear and hatred poured out of her, saturating his senses and making him groan. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her sorrow made him despise Job even more.

  “It’s over.” He stroked her back, draping her legs across his lap. “You’re safe.”

  Her fingers pushed into his hair. She snuggled against him, her face pressed against the side of his neck. “I was dreaming.”

  “I know.” He buried his face in her hair and savored her faintly floral scent. A calming wave swept through her, easing the worst of her fear. Did she find comfort just being in his arms? God, he hoped so. “Try to relax.”

  She still trembled. Her fingers sifted his hair over and over. “Touch me. Don’t stop touching me. I can’t get his smirking face out of my mind.”

  He rubbed her back, tracing her spine with his fingertips on the way down and using his whole hand with the upstroke. Her breath stirred against his skin, sending tingles down his spine.

  “I can’t stop shaking.” Easing back, he looked into her eyes. The muddled desire burning there made his empathy unnecessary. “I think I need…”

  “You’ve had a hell of a day.”

  She raised her hand to his face, her gaze focusing on his mouth. She shook, her lips trembled, and tears welled behind her lashes. Longing expanded inside him, possessive and passionate. Still, he wasn’t convinced sex was what she needed.

  Don’t have sex with her, make love to her. Show her how much you care.

  Turning his face to the side, he pressed a kiss against the center of her palm. He tuned out the water-stained walls and the utilitarian furniture and focused entirely on Tuesday. She stared back at him, silent and needful, her gaze bright even in the shadowy room.

  They were beyond words, their desire stripped of all artifice and pretense. He brushed his lips over hers. She opened, offering, waiting. Angling his mouth over hers, he caressed her lips with his tongue before easing inside.

  For endless moments they did nothing more than kiss, sharing their breaths and savoring the closeness. Then she pressed his hand to her breast, arching into his palm.

  She needed more than superficial reassurance. He felt her hunger build. Responding excitement spiraled through him, making it hard to breathe. He took the kiss deeper, stroking his tongue over hers, leading her tongue into his mouth.

  A murmur escaped her throat and she wiggled restlessly. Wrapping his arms around her, he laid her back across the bed. Her legs arched over his hips. He kept his mouth pressed over hers, refusing to lose the intimacy of their kiss.

  Making sure he wouldn’t hurt her, he guided her splinted wrist above her head. Her other hand continued its nonstop course from his hair, down his chest, to his hip, and back. He wanted her eager fingers wrapped around his cock, squeezing and stroking, but their position prevented her from touching him.

  This was about her pleasure, driving back the ghosts and making her feel secure. He unfastened her dress and caressed her breasts, tracing lazy circles around her nipples before teasing them with his thumb.

  She arched into his touch and curled her tongue around his. Yearning built within her, sweeping into him with astounding speed. Never before had he been so attuned to her desires. The new perspective intoxicated him, aroused him unbearably. She felt empty, craved the elemental connection of her mate moving inside her body.

  He found the hem of her dress and slipped his hand beneath. Her skin was warm and so incredibly soft. Her legs parted with his first nudge of his fingers. She lifted her hips as he tugged her damp panties down, unashamed of her desire.

  An image flickered to life within his mind. He knelt on the bed with his face pressed to the juncture of her thighs, her legs draped over his shoulders. He couldn’t tell if she craved the kiss or if his mind had triggered the image. Desire sizzled along his nerve endings and it suddenly didn’t matter.

  Dropping her panties to the floor beside the bunk, he bent her knee and ducked beneath her leg, making room for himself between her thighs. She whimpered when their mouths separated but he was already moving into the position he’d seen so clearly in his mind.

  The anticipation pounding through her was nearly as intoxicating as her scent. He leaned close and breathed over her moist flesh. Her thighs flexed and her fingers tangled in his hair. Myriad emotions rolled through her being and washed over him, need, anticipation, tenderness. Each more exciting than the last. It thrilled him to know how much she wanted him. Affection unfurled with equal intensity. He wished they had hours to explore these feelings but they were in the eye of the hurricane. The stronger, far side of the storm was still ahead of them.

  “Please,” she murmured.

  He didn’t make her wait. Concentrating on what pleased her most, he tantalized her senses with tender caresses and gentle kisses.

  Tuesday pressed her lips together, fighting back a scream of pleasure. Perfectly attuned to her desire, Marc licked her clit and caressed her folds. She arched, pressing closer to his mouth and greedily accepting the tenderness revealed with each stroke of his tongue.

  He was selfless and caring, expressing his love, not just with his kiss, but his entire being. She pushed her fingers through his hair and rocked her hips as he pushed his tongue into the very heart of her body. So nice, yet not nearly enough.

  Easily sensing her restlessness, he surged up along her body and thrust home. She stared into his eyes, surrendering the last of her uncertainty. If this was her last day on Earth, her only regret would be not having more time with Marc.

  Each firm stroke was an intentional joining, a blending of minds, bodies and hearts. She canted her hips and arched her back, wanting all he had to give. Tension built, gathering, heating. She dragged his head down and claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss. Her cries were muffled by his lips as tingling heat spread out through her entire body, then returned to coalesce between her thighs. He shuddered violently, clutching her to his chest as he joined her in release.

  He eased his hold, gently stroking her hair away from her face. She outlined his lips with her index finger and smiled into his eyes.

  “Do you think they heard us?” she whispered.

  “I don’t care if they did. You needed this. We needed this. Nothing else matters.”

  She blew out a satisfied sigh. “This bed isn’t big enough for both of us.”

  “It is if we stay like this.”

  Her chuckle accented the fact that he was still deep inside her. They both groaned.

  “I don’t think anyone will begrudge us a few minutes of selfishness, but we are in the middle of a crisis.”

  With obvious reluctance, he separated their bodies and refastened
his pants. “I’ll go clean up in the locker room. Showering together seems to lead to the need for another shower.”

  “I’ll meet you in the workroom.”

  He nodded and slipped from the room.

  * * * * *

  “I booted below the operating system, which bypassed the biometric safeguards,” Sydney explained. “That’s not possible without physical access to the CPU. Thank God for Raeanne’s quick thinking.”

  Tuesday glanced at Marc and smiled. His forehead scrunched and one eyebrow quirked at an odd angle.

  “Is she still speaking English?” he asked.

  “What does that mean to the cyberly challenged?” Tuesday prompted. Marc stood beside her, his arm resting lightly on her shoulders.

  “I got in without a retinal scan,” Sydney said with a wink. “The file is encoded with Kerberos XI encryption, hard as hell to crack on a good day. I tried every trick in the book, but I couldn’t identify the algorithm.”

  “You said couldn’t not can’t. Have you figured it out?” Tuesday asked hopefully.

  Sydney turned back to the monitor. “No, but I figured out why I can’t break it. There’s a subroutine shifting the cryptology every five minutes and my crack takes about fifteen minutes to complete a pass.”

  “By the time you identify the code, the subroutine has already changed it.” Tuesday signed. They had no other leads. It was imperative that Sydney open this file.

  “Exactly.”

  “Can you shut it down?” Marc asked.

  Sydney shook her head. “I’ve tried. It’s completely integrated with the other file. You can’t access one without the other. But,” she paused for effect, “this is a multiprocessor application and I’ve isolated the program to the third core of the fifth processor.”

  “How will that help?” Tuesday stepped closer to the workstation. Marc’s hand slipped to the small of her back.

  “I’ve written another subroutine that will spawn multiple job threads to the same processor. Hopefully this will slow down the scrambler so my crack can lock on to a code before the program resets the algorithm.”