To prove motive, however, Mick had to confirm that the merger was actually proceeding. Opening his e-mail program, he right-clicked on one of the e-mails from Edwards and checked the message header. Buried in the header was the IP address for Wardwell’s system. Launching a hacking program a friend had provided years ago, the system started searching for open ports and found several of them in the firewall.
He used one of the open ports and accessed the Wardwell system, hoping that someone in IT had been lazy and left at least one of the servers with its default settings. Sure enough, one server still had the “no password” default. Shortly after this discovery, Mick entered the Wardwell system. He didn’t want to linger long, afraid that someone might eventually catch on to his break-in.
He started a search for “Gates” and within just a few short minutes had located a Word document on the server. Better yet, it was in a directory that appeared to belong to Edwards. He quickly downloaded the document and exited.
When he opened the document, it confirmed the merger had progressed substantially.
Gates Genengineering had made an offer of 100 million dollars to acquire Wardwell. With that much money at stake, he now had possible motives for Wells’s murder, whether to silence a whistle-blower or get a bigger share of the money from the deal.
He had to warn Franklin.
He dialed his friend, who immediately answered.
“I’ve got some information and you’re not going to like it,” he said and explained about the merger.
“I’m liking this less and less every day, Mick. I’ve got a family now,” Franklin said. For the first time ever, Mick heard something in his friend’s tone that he had never expected to hear.
Real fear. The kind that grabbed hold of your gut and made you doubt. Even a scintilla of doubt on a mission was not good.
“I understand, Franklin. So here’s what I want you to do.”
CHAPTER 23
Mick provided Franklin with the basic information about the deal and asked him to try and track down more information as to when it might be finalized. Then he gave him the names and addresses of the two terminated patients whose files he had stolen. He needed to know more about what their families had been told regarding their progress and deaths.
“What about Donnelly?” Franklin asked, concern in his voice.
What about Mad Dog? Mick thought, recalling his earlier encounter with the man. “Whatever happens with Mad Dog won’t involve you. I promise you that. It’ll be between him and me.”
Because they had a score to settle.
“Thanks, Mick. I’ve got too much to lose,” his friend said and hung up.
Mick snapped the phone shut, Franklin’s last words digging into his brain.
I’ve got too much to lose. Mick had little if anything to lose.
He rose, intent on checking on Caterina, when he heard the insistent beep-beep-beep of the alarm system signaling that someone had opened a point of entry into the house.
He rushed to the guest room hoping it hadn’t been Caterina, but she was gone.
Cursing, he grabbed the stair railing, vaulted down to the middle of the stairs, then up and over the handrail to the next level. He landed on the wooden floor with enough force to rattle the nearby furniture.
Ahead of him the kitchen door leading to the backyard was wide open.
He ran toward the door and the cell phone at his hip began to buzz. A message flashed, alerting him to the fact that Caterina had breached the designated perimeter for the ankle bracelet she was wearing.
He rushed outside, believing he would have to give chase as she ran off the property, but instead he watched as she executed a graceful dive into the built-in pool in the backyard.
Shocked, he was about to go after her when the house alarm increased in pitch, alerting him to the fact that it would soon trip and dispatch instructions to the central station.
Since Caterina didn’t seem to be going anywhere and he didn’t need the police coming to check out the call from the central station, he returned inside and shut off the alarm. He answered his phone when it rang a second later.
“I got a warning here at the station about the ankle bracelet. Do I need to send in the troops?” Ramon asked.
Mick walked toward the edge of the pool where Caterina was treading water in the center, her arms wrapped tight around herself, shivering. The violent chattering of her teeth visible even with the long distance.
Something was wrong, but it was nothing that needed to involve Ramon.
“No, amigo. Everything is under control here,” he said, but as Caterina’s skin faded away to the bright blue of the pool lining, nothing could have been further from the truth.
Mick walked to the edge of the pool and crouched down, meeting her gaze, made an almost iridescent aqua from the reflection from the pool water and the increasingly intense hue of her skin.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Hot… burning up,” she replied, and slowly sank beneath the surface of the water.
Shit, he thought. Liliana would be pissed as all hell if he let Caterina drown on his watch.
He quickly yanked off his shirt, pants, and shoes, placed his cell phone within easy reach on the pool deck, and dove in.
With one powerful stroke he reached her.
Wrapping his arms around her body, he dragged her to the surface, where they both gulped in a big breath of air.
To his surprise, she laid her head on his shoulder and once again said, “I’m burning up.”
She was. Even with the cool water surrounding them, heat poured off her skin. Her body shivered against his with brutal force, her teeth rattling together until, with each second that passed, the chill of the waters penetrated her body and brought some relief.
Relief from the fever racking her body didn’t bring an end to the transformation of her skin. Luckily the high fence surrounding the property offered some privacy for the moment, but not much.
Anyone with a second story facing their way could get a good look once they left the water, since the back porch light illuminated a wide swath of the yard and pool area. He had to get her to restore more of her human state before they could return to the house.
He raised one hand and ran it across the slick strands of her hair in a soothing gesture. Bringing his lips close to the shell of her ear, he whispered, “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded and finally relaxed a bit, releasing the tight hold she’d had on her own body to wrap her arms around him.
So not good, he thought at the soft press of her body against his.
Think baseball, he said to himself as he cupped her cheek and urged her to lift her head. When she did so, he said, “I need you to lose the camo, Cat.”
Realization sank in as she examined her arms.
She screwed her eyes shut and beneath her breath began her mantra. Her lips barely moved as she said, “Focus. Focus. Focus.”
He braced one hand in the middle of her back and joined in the mantra. Only it distracted him from safe thoughts of baseball.
Caterina clearly noticed the natural reaction his body was having to her being so close.
“Focus,” she said more loudly, and opened her eyes.
They were back to normal, not that he could ever call eyes that blue and beautiful normal.
She bit her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth as she raised one hand to steady herself against his shoulder.
The movement only pressed them closer together and revealed another truth—he was not the only one who was possibly aroused.
Her pupils were wide and a bright stain of pink colored her cheeks. A flush of passion and not fever. The pebbly hard tips of her nipples rubbed across his chest and he would have had to be a saint not to touch.
He was no saint, but somehow he restrained himself.
He cupped her cheek, leaned his head close and asked, “Do you feel well enough to go back into the house?”
Caterin
a focused on his warm breath and the hard palm of his hand against her skin. Closed her eyes and imagined it was a lover’s touch. A touch that begged for sweet compensation in return.
Opening her eyes, she inched toward him until her lips almost brushed his and whispered, “Yes.”
His breath hitched in his chest and against her body; his erection jumped in response. He applied gentle pressure and urged her face upward as she acquiesced to that demand.
Human demand.
The call of male to female somehow reaffirming that she was still a woman. Still so much more than someone’s lab experiment.
When she brought up her head, he was bending toward her. He paused as his lips brushed hers, the warm spill of his breath enticing her to savor his mouth.
She touched her lips to his, telling herself to focus on them. On him. On the pleasure his touch brought her.
Mick groaned at her consent, certain that this was insanity and yet he couldn’t stop kissing her.
She brought both hands to his shoulders. They were still hot against his skin, but not as hot as before.
But way more hot than was right, and he knew that as good as this felt and as much as he wanted to part her thighs and drive himself into her, honor demanded that he stop.
Easing himself away but keeping a steadying grasp on her, he said, “We need to get you back inside. Make sure you’re okay.”
Puzzlement traveled across her features, followed by confusion and possibly disappointment. “You don’t want—”
“I do want, but not like this,” he explained.
He’d had one too many cases of want with little else attached to it.
She was a case of too much want with too much luggage, none of it good.
Until it could be more and be something less dangerous, she was off limits, he told himself.
“Let’s go in,” he said, noting that her body had returned to normal during their interlude.
She confirmed his instruction with a nod of her head. With a kick and one strong swipe of his arm he propelled them from the deeper end of the pool to where they could stand.
Side by side they walked to the stairs and stepped out onto the pool deck, the summer night air balmy against their skin. The wet oversized T-shirt clung to her body, shaping every curve. Exposing her long legs and the graceful sweep of her neck and one shoulder as the shirt slipped downward from the pull of the sodden fabric.
His own state was too obvious through the boxers he wore.
A bright flush stained her cheeks as she noticed. With a quick pivot on one heel, she raced back into the house, leaving him to mutter a curse and hurriedly scoop up his clothing and cell phone.
Inside the house, he re-armed the alarm system before snagging a beach towel from the mudroom off the kitchen. He wrapped it around his body, grabbed another towel, and followed the trail of wet footprints up the stairs.
The door to the bathroom was closed and he knocked on it. Caterina only partially opened the door, but it was enough for him to see that she was now totally naked. He thrust the towel through the opening in the door and stalked to his room, where he changed into dry sweats.
With Caterina’s fever, she needed something more lightweight to wear. He located an old cotton robe that would do.
He exited his room and found she was already back in the guest room, sitting on the bed, her knees tucked up to her chest and the beach towel encircling her body. Arms wrapped around herself in a defensive gesture.
She had brushed her hair and it was slicked back from her face, bringing to stark notice her wide eyes and classically perfect features.
Mick stalked to the recliner, held out the robe, and sat down.
She took the robe from him, eased it on, and tied it closed. She then proceeded to do that shimmy thing that all women seemed to learn as some part of the growing-up ritual, shifting a bit here and there to slip the towel off without dislodging the protection of the robe.
“What were you thinking?” he said.
She looked away toward the window at the far side of the room and shrugged. “I felt so hot and all that cool water was out there….”
Her voice trailed off and she faced him once again. “I won’t do it again.”
It was difficult to be angry when she was so damned agreeable and innocent-looking, sitting there with her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Head leaning on those knees as those damned blue eyes locked on him. The black of the waterproof ankle bracelet glaring against her creamy skin.
“When you trip the alarms, remember that it may not all be White Hats that answer,” he said, forcing a roughness to his voice to reinforce his concern.
“Are you a White Hat?” she asked, but beneath the innocent tones of her voice lay challenge. She suspected that on occasion he walked the line between black and white.
“It depends,” he said, confirming her suspicion. And because he was becoming too interested in her as something more than his target, he inched to the edge of the recliner and placed his hand on the crook of her neck. One hand was all it took to almost encircle that fragile column as he slid his thumb over her larynx.
He tightened his grip just a bit, enough for her to realize his intent. Her eyes widened with apprehension and she grabbed hold of his wrist with both hands.
“You won’t hurt me.”
CHAPTER 24
“I won’t?” Mick replied, increasing the pressure on her throat even though doing so made him cringe inside. Still, he achieved the result he’d wanted.
Caterina’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. Her skin erupted with the deep maroon color of his cotton robe and her hands tightened on his wrist, almost painfully so.
He could handle her like this, he thought. He could handle her when she wasn’t all soft enticing female.
“You want me to believe you’re a killer, but you’re not,” Caterina said, her grip as firm as his.
Reason told Mick to increase the pressure at her throat, to disprove her belief. But he couldn’t, because she was right.
Caterina met his gaze as her heart thumped in quick allegro beats. She held fast to his wrist and as she did so, the weird halo sight she had battled earlier returned, outlining his body in a bright blue, while his center appeared as a combination of other colors, communicating to her brain the heat of his body.
Like one of those cheap gum machine love-test strips, she saw the cooler outside edges of his limbs and the increasing warmth toward his core. In the middle of his chest, the brightest of all the colors. The most intense spot of heat.
Caterina shifted one hand from his wrist to that spot. Absorbed the thump-thump of his heart against the sensitized pads of her fingers. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. A steady reliable beat like that of a conductor’s baton.
Splaying her hand against that beat, she closed her eyes and concentrated on it. As she did so, the pressure at her throat eased until Mick finally moved his hand completely away.
But she didn’t remove hers.
Opening her eyes, she met his gaze. The color of his dark brown eyes had deepened to almost black. Beneath her hand, the thump-thump remained steady, but tension had crept into his body.
Finally she pulled her hand away and wrapped her arms around her knees once again.
“You know what I think?” she said, alternately confused and accepting of what was happening between them.
“I don’t care what you think,” Mick replied, still obviously struggling to convince her that he was dangerous.
“I think you’re a White Hat, only you’re afraid to admit it because you won’t be able to control people if they think you might actually have a heart.”
She’d learned about fear and control from her father. She understood it well.
Amazingly he saw past her words to the emotion that drove her. “Not all control is bad, Cat. And you will do what I tell you.”
On some level, she knew he only meant well. That he wanted to protect her and his sister and anyone else who ca
me under his charge. But she had struggled to be free for too long. She had lost that precious freedom at Wardwell and she’d be damned if that happened again.
“We’ll see,” she said.
Dog tired, Liliana plodded up the three steps, stumbling on the last one despite the post lantern lighting up the walk in the late dawn hours. She caught herself before she fell and continued up the walk.
At the door, she fumbled to find the keys in the bottom of her purse.
A big mistake.
Someone covered her mouth with a large masculine hand and wrapped an arm around her midsection, trapping her arms against her sides. Her purse and medical bag fell to the ground with a noisy clatter. She prayed someone inside would hear the ruckus.
With little effort, her assailant picked her up off the ground and moved toward the side of the wraparound porch. She tried to scream but she could barely breathe, much less muster any kind of noise. Mick’s words reverberated in her brain about being careful. About the danger they all might be in. She’d let fatigue make her careless, but knew she had to act now.
Twisting and turning her body, she managed to free one arm. Curling her hand into a claw, she reached behind her, raked her assailant’s face, and heard his surprised yell. His grip on her mouth loosened with her attack and she followed up with a sharp backward elbow to his midsection.
He grunted and released her, freeing her to swing around with her other elbow. The blow connected with his nose, the sound a sickening crunch.
Her attacker released a groan and fell away from her.
Liliana didn’t wait to see who it was.
She raced to the door just as Mick flung it open and stepped out onto the porch, barefoot and bare-chested, Glock in his hand. If the weapon wasn’t scary enough, the bruises and scars on his body screamed, Don’t mess with me.
Mick immediately pulled her behind him, using his body as a shield. Then she heard his amused chuckle.
Sins of the Flesh Page 14
