“I didn’t tell him about your new face,” Laura admitted with a heavy sigh.
“Why would you protect me from Job?”
“Because I love Elise,” she snapped. “I knew you were close to perfecting a treatment, so I wouldn’t let Job kill you until your work was done.” She glanced at Tuesday and bitterness reshaped her expression. “Then you worked a miracle and arranged for the surgery, so there was no reason not to move forward with Final PUREification.”
“My daughter’s new heart made me expendable.” Marc shuddered. “Do you realize how sick that is?”
“You killed them all!” Laura shouted. “First my parents, then Emma. And now my brother is dead! You killed my entire family. Even Elise. Your whore cost me my precious Elise.”
Panic drove the breath from his body. He gasped, reaching blindly for his gun.
Tuesday caught his wrist as she shook her head. “She hasn’t hurt Elise. That’s not what she meant. What use has a healthy child for a nurse? She hasn’t hurt Elise.”
“I would never hurt Elise,” Laura sneered. “I’m the only mother that child has ever known. The only decent mother she will ever know.”
“What about the tainted cocktail?” Tuesday moved closer, anger making her bold.
“I administer her medications and I stashed enough of the untainted drugs to get her through the crisis unharmed. I’m not a fool. No harm would have come to Elise.”
“Just to every other child on the planet.” Tuesday clenched her hands into tight little fists, clearly horrified by what could have happened, had nearly happened.
“All clear,” Raeanne reported, returning to the cockpit.
“Deal with her.” He ground out each word. “I need air.”
Tuesday followed him out. He swept her into a rib-bruising hug the second she cleared the hatch. “Too much more of this and I’m going to need one of your devices,” he whispered into her hair.
They heard a pain-filled grunt from inside the shuttle and Raeanne’s insincere, “Gee, I’m sorry.” A muffled curse, followed by, “Oh, is that too tight?”
Tuesday chuckled. “She must make President Rawsen so proud.”
“I’m pretty proud of her.” Marc gentled his hold. “I’m proud of both of you.”
They lapsed into silence as other possibilities unfurled within his mind. “Did it start with Emma or was she… My God, did she marry me so she could avenge her parents? Has the last ten years of my life been controlled by Job?”
Tuesday moved in front of him and pressed her hand against the side of his face. “It doesn’t matter. Even if Emma was part of the master plan, she gave you Elise. And Elise is amazing. She loves you without question and nothing anyone has done will ever change that fact.”
“Mr. Sinclair, can you ID these other two?” Raeanne called. “I don’t recognize them.”
Reluctantly, they returned to the shuttle.
Marc glanced at the pilot and shook his head, but the copilot dragged another gasp from his throat. “That’s Mary.”
Raeanne shook her head. “What’s her real name?”
“Her real name is Mary, Mary Dayle. Lazarus is her brother.” He moved away from the bodies and closer to Laura, who was now propped against the wall with her hands securely restrained. “When did Nate meet Lazarus?”
“The people you shatter have a way of finding each other,” Laura sneered.
“Then, Lazarus is involved?” Raeanne asked. “I thought the scripture sent you off in the wrong direction.”
Laura’s hostile gaze snapped back to Marc. “You thought Job was Lazarus? Oh, he’d be so disappointed. You’ve completely missed the imagery.”
“Well, why don’t you explain it to us so he can rest in peace?” Sarcasm dripped from Raeanne’s words.
“Nate never equated himself with Lazarus. Nate was Jesus, the divine savior of the PUREified world.”
“Charming.” Tuesday shivered.
“Then what name is Lazarus using now?” Raeanne asked impatiently. “Is he still at the stronghold?”
Glaring right into Raeanne’s eyes, Laura concluded, “Lazarus changed his name to David. Now he dispenses discipline at Job’s command.”
“Or he did, until Rahab cracked open his skull and cut off his thumb so we could escape that godforsaken stronghold,” Tuesday reminded.
Laura looked as if she’d say something hateful, but Raeanne didn’t give her the chance. “I don’t care what names they used. They got what they deserved, and so will you. I’m going to see to it personally.”
Marc took Tuesday by the hand and led her back outside. “I think Rahab has the situation under control.”
“And I’ve had enough biblical imagery to last a lifetime.” Tuesday shuddered then melted into his arms. “Is it finally over?”
“It’s over,” he assured. “The future belongs to you and me.”
“And Elise.” She looked up at him and smiled.
“And Elise.” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her with all the tenderness flooding his heart.
Epilogue
“So, are you relieved it’s all over or are you going to miss the excitement?” Vonne asked, her smile almost maternal.
Tuesday relaxed in the chair and wrapped both hands around her coffee mug. She’d needed time off to let her wrist heal and regain her emotional equilibrium, but it felt good to be back at CPT. Vonne’s office was comfortingly familiar. Tuesday had spent endless hours here, explaining her newest designs or just chatting.
“It’s been two weeks but I still get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I check my messages,” Tuesday began. “Laura sang like a bird once she realized there was no easy way out. She explained the details of all their plans, listed names, real and PUREified. Marc was horrified when he found out how many of his trusted colleagues Job’s recruiters had led astray.”
Vonne refilled Tuesday’s mug as she asked, “Why did they hijack the shuttle? Once you guys realized they had contaminated the cocktail that should have been the end of it.”
“The shuttle was bait. They knew Marc would play hero. He can’t help himself. That poor pilot was an ancient gauntlet, an affront Marc couldn’t ignore.”
Vonne shuddered. “But why the murder/suicide? Wouldn’t they have had a better chance of killing Marc if all three of them were shooting?”
Tuesday offered an elaborate shrug. “Now you’re asking me to defend their stupidity. Raeanne has detailed every flaw in PURE’s strategies, and believe me, there were many. They were zealots, not tacticians. Sacrificing two lives to take out their enemy meant nothing to them. The important thing is this misadventure gave General Bettencourt the justification he needed to dismantle the PURE stronghold. All their secrets are exposed, their leaders are either dead or incarcerated—it’s over.”
“Speaking of their enemy…” Vonne segued cheerfully. “How is Mr. Sinclair these days?”
Tingling warmth pervaded Tuesday’s abdomen and she smiled. “Mr. Sinclair is a very busy man. Destroying the contaminated cocktail played havoc with his delivery schedules for a while. But thanks to his lightning-fast reactions, all the shuttles were intercepted, and not one tablet of tainted product reached the public.”
“That’s not what I was asking and you know it.”
“Our relationship is…complicated.”
Folding her arms on top of her desk, Vonne leaned toward Tuesday. “So uncomplicate it. If you let this one slip away, you’re certifiable.”
“Thanks for the advice, boss. I’ll give it due consideration.”
“You’d better,” Vonne called as Tuesday stood and slipped out the office door.
Complicated. That didn’t begin to describe her feelings for Marc. She loved him so much it scared her to death. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. But logistics were a problem. Marc had a housekeeper who didn’t mind watching Elise, now that the girl’s health had stabilized, but Marc preferred to be at home.
She
couldn’t blame him. Her apartment was a dump. But she had always spent more time in her lab than in her apartment, so finding more spacious accommodations had never occurred to her.
A large hand covered her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist, trapping her arms to her sides.
“Don’t move or I’ll make you scream,” Marc whispered into her ear. “No, wait, that’s don’t scream or I’ll make you move.” He turned her around and pressed her against the wall, framing her body with his arms. “See, I was never any good at this kidnapping stuff.”
She traced his smile with her fingertip and basked in the warmth of his eyes. “Fortunately, you make up for the lapse in other areas.”
“Can you sneak away for an hour or two?”
“What did you have in mind?”
He shook his head, eyes sparkling. “It was a yes or no question.”
“With you, the answer’s always yes.”
His arms closed around her, pressing her body against him, while his mouth settled over hers. Tuesday opened for him, ready for his kiss, his taste, his touch. Always ready for him.
“Let’s go.”
He whispered the words against her parted lips, his warmth making her tingle.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Despite her best attempts to cajole more information out of him, Marc refused to say a word regarding their destination. He’d said an hour or two, so they couldn’t be going too far.
He slowed the shuttle and floated to a smooth landing on the drive circling the front of a stately mansion. Tuesday stared at the massive structure with a mixture of wonder and dread. This couldn’t be…was this his house?
Three stories high, with charming dormer windows, the red brick mansion was trimmed in white. Tall, leafy trees created a secluded feeling, though Tuesday had seen numerous other homes from the air. Rose bushes lined the wide gallery, which appeared to wrap around the entire building.
“Shall we go inside or would you just like to stare?”
“Is this really where you live?”
“Not lately, which is what I want to talk about.” He took her by the hand and led her up the sweeping stone steps to the arched double doors.
The interior of the mansion was no less impressive. Every room had a distinct personality. Tuesday was surprised by the functionality of the floor plan, though the sheer scope of the house overwhelmed her.
“Mrs. Manchester is my only live-in domestic, but I assure you she keeps everything running smoothly. You could make whatever changes you wanted or not bother yourself with anything—”
“Are you asking me to move in with you?”
He caught her hands and pulled them to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss against her knuckles. “I hate being apart from you, but…”
“You hate my apartment?” She laughed.
“I was going to say I hate being apart from my daughter, but the apartment has got to go! Why do you live like that?”
“I hate moving more than I hate the apartment, I guess. Besides, I used to spend so little time there it didn’t bother me.”
“I want to show you something.”
Lacing her fingers through his, she hurried to keep up with his excited strides. “No need to hurry, big boy. I can take the afternoon off.”
He laughed, gently squeezing her fingers. He led her to a set of beautifully carved French doors. “The view is a little different here than at my mountain lodge, but I think you’ll like this, too.” He opened the door just a crack and motioned her near.
Tuesday stepped in front of him and peered out through the small opening. Drenched in afternoon sunlight, a wide, rustic deck extended off the back of the house. A padded lounger had been set up near the railing and Elise sat in the chair, a book open across her lap. Eyes closed in contentment, she tilted her face to the sun, greedily absorbing its warmth.
“She’d sleep out there if we’d let her. She loves feeling the wind against her skin.”
“Can you blame her? She spent the first eight years of her life in a hospital bed.” Tuesday glanced at him, hesitating over her next question. “Does she ask about Laura? What did you decide to tell her?”
He closed the door and she turned to face him.
“I avoided her questions for as long as I could. I tried to tell her the truth—I know she’ll find out in time. But right now, I want her to enjoy being a little girl. She’s never had that. Never.”
“I understand.”
“So, I pulled some strings and had Laura make a recording. It seems she’s living in a nice home somewhere in Europe. She explained how she hated to leave Elise, but there was another little girl who needed her desperately, so she had to go. They’ll correspond until I think Elise is ready to hear the truth.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Tuesday cautioned him. “Nothing good ever comes from deception. Does she know about us?”
He shook his head. “It will be pretty hard to hide once you…move in?” He paused. “Or marry me?”
“Yes.” She grinned.
He laughed. “To which one? That wasn’t a yes or no question.”
“Either, or both. I told you. The answer is always yes.” She pulled open the door and walked out onto the deck. Elise looked up. Her wide brown eyes blinked and then narrowed.
“Ms. Fitzpatrick? What are you doing here?”
Marc slipped his arm around Tuesday’s waist. “We were just talking about that. Weren’t we, Tuesday?”
“Yes, we were. Do you mind if we join you?”
“Is something wrong with my heart?” Elise asked.
Marc chuckled and leaned down to kiss his daughter’s brow. “No, sweetheart, Tuesday isn’t here because of you. She’s here because of me.”
“Is something wrong with your heart, Daddy?”
He shifted his loving gaze from Tuesday to Elise and back. “Not anymore, baby. Not anymore!”
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Royal Obsession
Cyndi Friberg
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Radical separatists, created at the onset of the Great Conflict, have been made obsolete by years of peace. They live in their subterranean Shadow Maze and only emerge when it’s time to breed. For Varrik, that time is now.
Varrik, current leader of the Shadow Assassins, knows his people are on the verge of extinction. If they cannot adapt, they will die. Yet if his son were a direct descendant of the High Queen it would secure a place for future generations. Protecting his people is his first priority, so Varrik assembles a hunting party and kidnaps the royal twins. He is determined to claim the eldest for his own.
Echo, the younger princess, knows her pampered sister will never survive the sexual appetites of their virile captor. Echo doesn’t understand the powerful attraction she feels for Varrik, but drawing his attention is a far better choice than allowing him to overwhelm her twin. She doesn’t expect to find him fascinating or to crave the demanding passion he ignites. Can a dominating warrior and his willing captive bring light to the Shadow Maze?
Royal Obsession
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Copyright © 2013 Cyndi Friberg.
Prologue
“Only you can stop this madness. You must speak with the elders.”
Varrik closed his eyes as the plaintive words echoed through his mind. Ripples of discontent had been disrupting the Shadow Maze longer than he could remember. After developing useless feelings for his female, Varrik’s brother, Sekall, had planted seeds of doubt and whispered clever lies. Sekall’s treachery still germinated a decade after his execution.
“I am not my brother.” Varrik opened his eyes and glared at his misguided friend. “Unlike Sekall, I hold true to the Customs.”
“Customs that were obsolete before we were born.” Bemzire wrapped his arm around a woman’s shoulders and drew her close against hi
s side. Varrik didn’t know her name, didn’t allow himself to wonder. Females had only one purpose in the life of a Shadow Assassin and this woman had fulfilled hers. He glanced at the baby sleeping in her arms, ignoring the tightening in his chest. Soon it would be his turn to breed.
“You have a strong, healthy son.” Varrik dragged his gaze away from the infant and focused on Bemzire. “Let that be enough.”
“Enough for what? We are expected to remain in this prison, allowing others to dictate what gives meaning to our lives.” Bemzire stroked his son’s tiny face. Tension hardened his tone, yet his gaze remained tender. “With or without the elders’ consent, we’re leaving the Shadow Maze tonight.”
“They will find you and kill you. You know the law.”
Bemzire stepped closer, challenge flashing in his eyes. “I know it’s forbidden, but can you tell me why?”
“You know why.”
“I know the lies the elders use to control us. I want nothing more to do with the world below.”
“There have always been lulls, shifts in power, and periods of waiting. We are above these things. We answer to a higher calling.” Varrik glanced at the woman. She remained silent and watchful as Bemzire argued their case. “Even if the elders allowed you to leave, how would you survive? You’re a criminal according to the world above. As soon as they realize where you came from, they will take you to the City of Tears.”
“Then sweep my mind. The elders might not realize you have the gift, but I know you do. Use your ability on me, so I have nothing to reveal.”
Varrik shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. If one of the elders sensed the emotions raging in this room, they might join and penetrate his mental shields. He wasn’t ready to be a sweeper, was still too conflicted to embrace his destiny.
“Sweeping your mind won’t keep the overlord from torturing you. If you think you’re a prisoner now, wait until you’ve spent some time in the City of Tears.”
Tainted Hearts Page 23
