Storm Gathering

  “You have no idea,” Grey muttered. “I've cleared the front entrance for you three. Nobody else for now until we get an agreement in place. I'm done.” He slammed the handheld into place on the wall. “Why can't we just shoot them all?”

  “What fun would that be?” Damon dropped his feet to the floor and double-checked his weapon. “Let's go see who's coming to dinner. Er, breakfast.”

  Grey shook his head and moved out of the control room. There was no way to attack Vanguard and still have any decent relationship with Maureen, so his path was clear. But the president didn't know that yet. Maybe there was a way for Grey to get his hands on that helicopter before the president figured it out.

  He reached the entry door in time to see Mercury scuffling with a guard over a gun. His whistle stopped everyone cold. “Let them keep their weapons.” At this point, he almost welcomed somebody trying to shoot him. “We have more than they do.”

  For now.

  * * *

  Jax Mercury released the guard's neck and faced Greyson Storm. “This place is half mine,” he growled, more than ready for an all-out war.

  Grey rolled his eyes. “Fine. It's half yours.” He turned and started to lead the way to one of the bigger conference rooms in the place.

  Jax cut a look at Shadow, who just shrugged. Maybe a week with Maureen Shadow had worn the guy down. “I'd like to install troops as soon as possible.” No reason not to push the advantage. Especially since Merc soldiers took up residence every few yards. Grey had done a good job of securing the place inside and out. Only prior knowledge of having taken the garage had helped Jax do it again, but he'd lose men if he ordered them inside from there and he knew it.

  “Great,” Grey grumbled, moving to the head of the table. “Maybe we can have a mixer or two first. A kind of get-to-know-you weekend with three-legged races and balloon animals.”

  “Man, you're cranky,” Jax observed. The Merc leader's odd gray eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw looked like granite. “When was the last time you slept?” He took a seat at the foot of the table as Raze sat to his left, his gaze on the door. Sami hung by the entrance.

  “I'd be sleeping now if you'd have arrived at a decent hour,” Grey retorted as Damon took a seat to his right.

  Well, fair enough. “We thought we might need the element of surprise,” Jax said easily.

  “I'm not surprised you came early,” Grey said, leaning back in his chair.

  Tace came into view and instantly hugged Sami. “I'm glad you're here.”

  The woman beamed. The toughest soldier Jax had ever met, one who knew computers like most people knew their own faces, actually sparkled with love. “I missed you,” she murmured.

  “Tace?” Jax asked before he started puking. “Everything good here?”

  Tace nodded. “Yep. Place is solid, and the Mercs have been easy to work with. But I'm exhausted.”

  Sami yawned wildly.

  Jax rolled his eyes while Raze smirked. “Then you should get some sleep. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Or rather, later today.” No doubt they wanted a hot shower somewhere. The two instantly took off.

  “Did she just hop?” Raze asked, his brows drawing down. “I could swear she just hopped.”

  Jax shook his head. It didn't help a guy's position when his toughest soldiers looked like morons.

  Raze turned back to Grey. “Where's my sister?”

  A whisper sounded by the door. “Raze?”

  Raze was up in a second, enfolding his sister in his arms. He leaned back to study her. “You okay?”

  Jax leaned to the side. Moe's curly hair was all over, she was pale, and she looked exhausted. His temper started to stir.

  “I'm fine,” Maureen said, patting her brother's chest.

  Greyson leaned forward, a fierce frown darkening his features. “She'd be a hell of a lot better if she'd listen to me and get some sleep. Moe, you can't work around the clock. The papers and research and all the data will be in the same place after you rest.”

  Jax blinked. The Merc leader seemed genuinely concerned. And a little pissy that the scientist was across the room from him. Was there something going on? Shit. That'd be a disaster. No way was Raze gonna be okay with his sister and a Merc. Maybe the best move would be to get Maureen out of there so they could all calm the hell down. “Ah. Do you want to go sleep or stay here for the meeting, Maureen?”

  She moved past her brother and took a seat next to Jax while Raze sat next to her, effectively flanking her. But it left Raze's back to the door, and Jax didn't like that. He angled his chair farther over so he could watch the entrance, Raze's back, and Greyson all at once.

  Raze dropped his backpack on the floor and drew out several manila file folders. “We doing this or what?”

  Jax eyed Greyson. The guy really did seem out of sorts. “You okay, Storm?”

  Maureen sniffed. “He's probably just tired from meeting with the president a few hours ago.”

  Grey didn't twitch. Just looked at her.

  “What?” she asked, lifting a shoulder.

  Raze narrowed his gaze and looked from one to the other.

  Oh, there was definitely something going on. Jax leaned forward. “How's Atherton?”

  “Fine. Playing hard on the service to country motto,” Grey said easily. “And he has air support, superior weapons, and deals with farming communities. Also claims he has access to at least two more Bunkers with leads on the others.”

  Jax surveyed the room. Greyson had two options since he'd let them in the building. One was to try and take them out now, which would cement his partnership with the president. The other was to ally with them. He couldn't tell which way Greyson was going to go. Bastard.

  Raze apparently reached the same conclusion because he drew his weapon and pointed it between Greyson's eyes.

  Maureen gasped and slapped his arm. “Raze? Stop that. Stop it right now.”

  In answer, Raze used his free hand to grab her chair and roll her behind him. “She leaves before anything goes down,” he said, his gaze fierce.

  Greyson, to his credit, didn't blink.

  Maureen stood and smacked her brother on the top of the head with the flat of her hand.

  Jax winced. “Don't make him shoot, darlin'.”

  Greyson yawned. “Jesus Christ, I'm tired of this shit. Maureen, sit the hell back down. Raze, drop the gun. Jax, say something interesting.” The Merc leader glanced sideways at Damon. “You, I like. You're it. You're the only person I like anywhere right now.”

  Damon sighed. “That's a heavy burden, Grey. Just sayin'.”

  Jax bit back a laugh.

  Raze growled. “I have a feeling you're not taking me seriously, Storm.”

  Greyson shot him a hard look. “Yeah. There's a lot of that going on right now.”

  “Enough,” Jax snapped. “We're all tired, and I'd really like to get into one of those showers while we still have hot water. Obviously, you're either going to shoot at us or align with us, so just fuckin' say what the Mercs are doing.”

  Maureen tugged her chair back into place. “The Mercs are going to align with Vanguard.” She sat.

  Greyson's eyebrows lifted. “We are, are we?”

  She lowered her chin. “Yes. You are.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The only way civilization will survive is if the women just take over. Duh.

  — Maureen Shadow, Notes

  Maureen nearly backed away from the tension suddenly rolling throughout the entire room.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Raze asked, his voice dark.

  Now probably wasn't a good time to tell him he was going to be an uncle. “I'm tired, and I want this settled,” Maureen said. “We need Lynne Harmony here, and we need her now. It's time to find the other Bunkers, and it's time Lynne got back to work curing Scorpius.”

  The men all looked at her, different degrees of badassery on their faces.

  She swallowed. “The only way that happens is if we w
ork together. Greyson has more trained soldiers as well as fresh fish. Vanguard has more people overall as well as the best scientists. The president and vice president pretty much want us all dead. Enough with the posturing.” Apparently it was now her job to be the mediator. God.

  “Agreed,” Greyson said softly, his gaze on her.

  Jax nodded. “Good enough.”

  “Moe? We'll hash this out. Why don't you go get some sleep?” Greyson formed it as a question, but it was clearly an order. “Now.”

  She blinked. “No. You guys won't get there without a mediator. So the faster we reach an agreement, the faster we all get some much-needed sleep.” It was her only chip, and she was using it. There couldn't be that many details to argue about.

  “We want equal access to and same number of soldiers at the Bunker,” Jax started.

  Maureen held up a hand. “We'll get to details in a minute. How long will this Bunker be viable? In other words, how long will the fuel and generators last?”

  Grey drummed his fingertips on the table. “From six months to a year. Tops.”

  Maureen sighed. “So we have a very limited time to figure out how to integrate the two groups in time to move.”

  “Whoa,” Jax said. “Move?”

  Maureen shook her head. “You guys don't get it. Water is going to be a problem, and we'll have to move north to fertile land, fresh water, and wild game. We have months to plan, but then we have to go. Your strongholds are temporary.”

  Okay. So not one of them liked hearing that. She understood.

  Raze tossed a manila file folder on the table, and papers slid out. “We have a fresh food source we can access. Vanguard can last a lot longer than a year.”

  “With rain water, failing structures, and diminishing provisions?” Maureen asked. “Not a chance, brother. You only have a short time before you guys have to move north, even without the clock ticking on the Bunker. Having sixty trained soldiers as part of your crew at that time will only be beneficial.”

  Greyson tapped his finger on a picture from the file and drew it toward him. Something about his stillness gave her pause. He wasn't happy Vanguard had taken his garage. Not at all.

  She cleared her throat. “The Mercs have more space and better food, but the land mass isn't ideal for protection, and you don't have a place for crops or even animals. You'll have to move within a year. Maybe less.”

  He looked up, his gaze veiled. “I see.”

  She fought a shiver. “I've been studying maps for the last couple of hours, and I found one of the existing nuclear reactor sites. The ones that have been supplying areas with power.”

  Raze frowned and leaned back. “We can't use those. They've all shut down.”

  “Yeah, but they'll fail at some point.” She planted her hands on the table. “We have to go somewhere safe where we don't have to worry about that.” The map was imprinted on her brain. “The good news is that we just go north. I think to the Willamette Valley in Oregon. There will be game, fresh water, fertile soil, and hopefully some farm animals that are still alive.”

  Jax's chin dropped. “You want us to move to Oregon? Like the Wild West?”

  She frowned. “It's not the Wild West.” All right. It might've become the Wild West a little bit now. “Long term, that's our only choice.”

  Greyson scrubbed a hand through his thick hair. “I appreciate the long-term approach, but for tonight, or rather this morning, let's reach an agreement covering the next month. If we can make it through July without killing each other, then we can talk beyond that.”

  Jax looked directly at him. “I've already set my terms for the Bunker. I'm fine working together here and keeping our territories separate for now. And I need Damon for a mission.”

  Grey's eyes darkened. “I want Lynne Harmony here working on Scorpius. Looking for some sort of cure.” He twirled the picture around on the table. “The fresh food intrigues me as well. We've found a couple of organic farms that were once fertile close to our territory.”

  “What about integrating women and even kids into the Mercenaries?” Maureen asked.

  Grey focused on her. “Let's tackle that after the first month. “I'm thinking we should use my new friendship with the president to gain intel on the other Bunkers, VP Lake, and available weapons.”

  “You want to play double agent?” Raze asked, his voice low.

  Greyson shrugged. “Don't see why not.”

  Jax's eyes narrowed. “Just as long as you remember who you're actually spying for. And against.”

  Greyson smiled, but the expression didn't remotely reach his eyes. Then he turned, his intense gaze on Moe. “I know exactly where my allegiances lie.” He pushed away from the table. “Get some sleep, Maureen.” He kept moving. “Now. If you'll excuse me, I have weapons to catalogue.” He strode from the room with Damon on his heels.

  The atmosphere in the conference room instantly softened. Became more peaceful.

  Jax looked at Raze. “Well?”

  Raze shrugged. “Dunno. He could be playing us, but part of me doesn't think he'd bother. Though he is a fan of the long game. Snipers are freakishly patient, and his end goal might be something we can't see.”

  “You think he ever found Zach Barter?” Jax asked.

  “He hasn't,” Maureen murmured. “But he'll never stop looking.”

  Raze stretched his legs out. “There's more than Barter going on with Greyson Storm. He's hunting something or someone else. Something bigger. I can feel it.”

  Maureen swallowed. Right now, the only prey Greyson seemed to be hunting was her.

  * * *

  Maureen sat in bed, the battery-operated lantern glowing next to her. She'd found one file on Scorpius in the upstairs control room, and she wanted to be finished reading the research by the time Greyson gave her access to the labs in a few hours.

  She rubbed her eyes, having left Raze and Jax in the conference room nearly an hour ago. It had to be about five in the morning.

  Her door opened, and Greyson stood there. He still had a gun strapped to his thigh, adding an extra layer of danger to an already deadly predator. Tension rolled from him, and his full mouth curved down as he obviously tried to tame his temper.

  She blinked. “Hi.”

  “I'm certain I told you to get some sleep.” Red flushed high across his face, and his nostrils flared. He grabbed the files off the bed and threw them at the far wall, scattering papers across the entire floor in a surprising fit of temper.

  Shock shook her, followed rapidly by anger. She pushed from the bed and stomped over to him, shoving a finger in his chest. “You are picking up every single one of those.” He was a fucking child having a tantrum.

  “Yeah. I'm done,” he said absently, as if speaking to himself. With barely a twitch, he moved in her direction, swinging her up into his arms—all raw, easy strength.

  He looked around, spotted a chair over by a small desk, and strode over to drop into it.

  Her head knocked against his chest. “What are you doing?”

  He winced and lifted her—with one arm—and removed his gun, setting it behind him on the desk. Placing her back down, he fisted his hand in her hair, drew her head back, and poised his face right above hers.

  She stopped breathing. In her T-shirt and panties, her precarious position became clear.

  The dim light caressed the sharp angles of his face, making his eyes glow a relentless greenish-gray. “I've tried explaining nicely. I've tried threats. The only thing I haven't tried is tying you to the headboard.” His minty breath brushed her lips.

  An image of them in bed, her tied with his magnificent body over her slipped into her mind, clear as a picture. She gave a slight shiver.

  His lips pursed. “So, that's the plan.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Then why, Maureen?” he asked softly, his tone gravelly and his hold implacable. “You're pregnant, you haven't been feeling well, and yet you refuse to sleep. Tell me why.”
>
  “I'll sleep now,” she said quickly—too quickly.

  His gaze narrowed. “No. Now you'll talk. Tell me why.”

  Saying the words out loud would do more than expose her to Greyson, as if he needed another advantage. It'd make the reality concrete. Her gaze dropped to his lips. Maybe if she just kissed him…

  “No,” he said softly. “We're not moving until you talk to me.”

  Her gaze flew up to his. Damn it. He wasn't messing around. Did Greyson ever mess around? She was too tired to fight him. To contest the truth. “I have to save him,” she whispered, playing with Greyson's T-shirt.

  “Save who?” he asked, his other hand enclosing hers and holding her still.

  She exhaled and met his gaze. “The baby. If there's a chance to save him, it's here in the Bunker. Somewhere in the research and the labs. What if I miss it by a day? I don't even know how long the pregnancies lasted. Nobody said. Was it two weeks? Two months? Six months? What about—”

  Greyson kissed her gently, stopping her words. He licked the corners of her lips and ran his tongue along the seam.

  He tasted of mint and man. Her body went from tense to fully aroused in a nanosecond, every inch of her sensitized. For him. For this dangerous, mysterious, intriguing, protective man she was just getting to know. One she wasn't sure she should trust.

  He lifted just enough to capture her gaze again. His eyes had softened, as did his voice. “Sweetheart. We'll figure it out. With rested brains and refreshed bodies. You're a scientist, and you know that's necessary.” He stood and moved to the bed, setting her back on the mattress. Then he lifted his shirt over his head, and the play of muscle, the ripped and predatory planes, caught her full attention. He gently took off his necklace with the ring and set it aside.

  His jeans were next, leaving him nude.

  Her mouth went dry. He glanced at the gun on the desk, loped over to grab it, obviously unconcerned with his nudity, and put it on the bed table closest to the door. The sound of the locks engaging filled the silence before he pulled back the covers and planted himself in her bed.