Stronger Than Sin Read Online Free

anything.
Anything,
right?”
    “Right,” she confirmed, but she knew she wouldn’t call her brother. He’d already had too much upset in recent months.
    It was time for her to take care of things. And that included finding out why Whittaker was having her followed.
    “This Bradford deal may be a mistake, Raymond,” Morales said as he stood before Edwards in their secondary lab facility. He
     enjoyed the annoyance that flared to life in Edwards’s gaze at his use of his first name. The superior Dr. Edwards considered
     himself above such familiarities, which only increased Morales’s pleasure at goading him.
    Edwards leaned back in his chair and ran a long, thin finger across his lips as he considered his partner’s statement. “I
     know Bradford is one of your favorites—”
    “He’s unstable. The genes create rage he’s barely able to control,” he said.
    Edwards laughed, the sound a rough cackle of disbelief. “Seriously? Seems to me he’s quite capable of control, and given the
     incentive—”
    “What if he finds out about his sister? That she’s not really ill?” Morales asked, truly unhappy about losing his star patient.
     There was just something about Bradford’s anger that he enjoyed, possibly even more than his possession of the former celebrity.
    Or maybe it was just that—his possession of the jock. For too long he had suffered at the mercy of such muscle-bound idiots.
     Having Bradford as his plaything seemed like just compensation for all those years of misery, only his partner clearly didn’t
     think so.
    “Bradford has no contact with his family. That distance only makes it easier for us to carry out this ruse. Plus, Bradford
     is the most stable of all the patients. More reason he should be the sacrificial lamb,” Edwards advised.
    Morales wondered how much separation there could be if Bradford was willing to forfeit himself to help his sister, but as
     he met his partner’s steely-eyed gaze, he realized his say would have no impact. The plans had already been put into motion
     by Edwards and the new associates he had brought into their venture.
    “Whatever you say, Raymond,” he replied.
    “Don’t screw this up, Morales,” Edwards warned.
    “Of course not, Raymond,” he answered and hurried out, smiling as Edwards’s annoyed gaze bored into his back.
    Home, and yet still a prison, Jesse thought a week later.
    Located on Ocean Avenue directly across from the beach, his home was an immense Wedgewood blue colonial with a large wraparound
     porch that opened into a gazebo on one end. Welcoming windows trimmed in white all along the front provided vistas of the
     beach and sea. Balconies on a second floor also allowed him to enjoy the multimillion-dollar view.
    All around the home were inviting lawns and gardens, winter-dormant now, but he could picture their summer glory.
    Despite the home’s welcome, he was still a captive, he thought as he walked around his Spring Lake residence, familiarizing
     himself with the things he had left behind nearly a year ago now.
    The place had been kept up in his absence. Surfaces dusted. Plants watered. Lawns mowed. Not even an old piece of mail, newspaper,
     or magazine in sight to testify to his absence.
    Everything was in place as it should be, which saddened him.
    The trappings of his life had gone on without him, as if he had been an unnecessary part of their daily existence.
    The expensive furnishings; the Game Day room with an assortment of monitors, oversized and overstuffed chairs; shelves filled
     with his assorted trophies and awards. All just useless accessories in a life that had lost its purpose, Jesse thought, and
     within him came a dangerous spark of anger. Sucking in a deep breath, he willed away the desire to smash the cabinets and
     the worthless items within that had cost him so much.
    His family.
    His freedom.
    His humanity, he thought, staring down at his hands and the thick, armorlike skin now covering his knuckles.