Mercury Striking

  He’d planned every single inch of Vanguard territory with protection and survival in mind for his force of five hundred people, but it was getting more difficult to keep the enemy outside. “We need to shore up the eastern edge,” he said, pointing to a series of old apartment buildings.

  Wyatt nodded. “We have a new force of soldiers ready to defend, but none have seen combat.”

  “They will soon enough.” Jax rubbed his left eye to get rid of the pain behind it.

  “When’s the last time you slept?” Wyatt asked.

  Jax shrugged. “Day before yesterday? Maybe?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “How do you do that?”

  “Military training.” Jax turned to recheck the security for headquarters. Training wasn’t all, though, was it? He swallowed and kept going, not looking back. Now wasn’t the time to share his secrets, not even with Wyatt.

  Chapter Five

  Instinct rules man as much as animals . . . perhaps that will be our ultimate trump card in this global fight for survival.

  —Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony

  Lynne awoke cocooned in warmth, her body luxuriating in the feel of fresh clothes, her mind clearing after sleep. Real sleep. She stretched and instantly stilled, her eyelids crashing open. A hard body spooned her from behind.

  Panic ripped into her and shot adrenaline through her veins. Sunlight slid in from the boarded-up window, making it maybe late afternoon?

  “Relax,” a deep voice rumbled.

  Slowly, like prey, she rolled over to face Jax Mercury, bare chested, cascading heat. A jagged tattoo made up of complicated lines and sharp edges wound over his left shoulder. She could make out a 20 in the center, covered and crossed over by lines. A special ops tat with a 44 in it shifted in the muscle on his left arm. A military designation of some type? “You promised,” she whispered.

  He opened one brown eye. “I’m not attacking you, am I?”

  “Well, no.” She inhaled, trying to slow her heart rate before a panic attack swamped her. She eyed him, tousled and relaxed. His right bicep held a tattoo with sharp lines, a shield, and the word VANGUARD written through a heart. A dark lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and a bristly shadow covered his square jaw, giving him the look of a lazy panther.

  Panthers didn’t really get lazy, now did they?

  He sighed and reached for the comforter, frowning when she flinched. Sighing, he pulled up the threadbare fabric to her neck, covering her completely.

  “I need to know what I’m dealin’ with here, darlin’,” he rumbled, opening both eyes and focusing on her.

  She curled her knees up toward her chest, hitting his hip bone on the way. “What do you mean?”

  His gaze roamed her face, lingered on her lips, and returned to her eyes. “The world has turned shitty-times-ten for women without the ability to fight.”

  She blinked. “I know.” Predators always found the weak.

  “What really happened when you disappeared from the CDC? Kidnapping or escape?” he asked.

  Apparently the questioning would begin in bed. She tried to move back, but the wall stopped her. “I’d rather discuss this later while clothed.”

  “That’s unfortunate, because we’re discussing it now.” His tone remained gentle.

  She’d have to crawl over him to get to the floor, and no way was she getting in a tussle in bed with him. “I escaped.”

  “Three months ago.”

  “Yes.” She plucked at a string on the comforter. “The contagion spread, and soon the people in control weren’t the people who should be in control. I ran.”

  He nodded. “Right about that time, the news stopped.”

  So many people had succumbed to the illness, the world had seemed to stop. “I know.”

  “Where have you been for three months?”

  She tightened her jaw to keep her lips from trembling. “Before the Internet crashed, the battles in L.A. were broadcast continually. I saw you fight, and I later read about the group you’ve formed here. Even the worst of the worst know not to come within five miles of inner Los Angeles, or they face the wrath of Jax Mercury.”

  He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Those reports were exaggerated.”

  “Of course.” She rubbed sleep from her eyes, her heart rate finally slowing. “The remaining doctors at the CDC tried to contain me, but I got loose. I knew I needed to get here, that with your vitamin B stores and fighting troops, maybe I could be safe and help find a cure.” That wasn’t the whole story. But she couldn’t trust him with it yet.

  “Did you meet trouble on the way?”

  “Of course.” There was always trouble, and she’d seen too much. “But I made it here.”

  He touched her cheek. “Did anybody hurt you?”

  She frowned. Oh. “No. I traveled with my uncle Bruce, who was a hell of a cop in his day. He helped me to break out of the CDC—the center we created in the nation’s capital the second Scorpius got out of hand.”

  “Wasn’t the CDC branch in D.C. just policy oriented?”

  “Yes, but we took over a hospital and started researching there, and once I was better, I worked there. It was supposed to be temporary, but as you know, everything happened so quickly, so we never returned to the main CDC hospital in Atlanta.”

  Her uncle Bruce had visited her many times in the hospital, and when it became evident that several of the CDC doctors had been infected and were considering making Lynne a prisoner, he’d come up with a plan to get her out. “He posed as a lab technician to get me out of the facility, and then he had an elaborate scheme that included three stairwells, one secured lab, and finally a row of windows.” She smiled and then faltered. “We’d been on the run for months, and he’d taken great pains to protect me. He died a month ago.” The pain was fresh and almost doubled her over. She’d lost so many family members and friends, as had any survivor. God, it hurt.

  “I’m sorry.” Jax ran a knuckle across her chin. “Scorpius?”

  It’d be easy to just nod and lie. “No. Bruce was killed by one of the groups seeking me. Many people are hunting me, believing I either started the apocalypse on purpose or I have knowledge about a cure.”

  She had knowledge about Myriad but no cure. “After my uncle’s death, I continued my search for you and safety, meeting stragglers on the way and staying away from most encampments. Foraged for food when I could.” Of course they were hunting her now. It was amazing she’d survived, considering she could trip over a smooth floor, she was such a klutz.

  Her former lack of grace was the least of her worries. At some point, she’d need to tell Mercury everything, especially if he wouldn’t let her out of the room. But not now, and definitely not while in such a vulnerable position. “I haven’t been attacked, Jax.”

  “Good.” His smile seemed almost sinful. “Then you can relax here in our bed and not flinch when I pull up the covers.”

  Heat flared through her. Our bed? “Oh, hell no. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

  He glanced at her, at the bed, down at his chest, and then back at her. “I believe you are.”

  She shoved him. “Absolutely not.” When he didn’t move or respond, she coughed out air. “Why? Why would you want to share a bed?”

  He sighed. “It’s not personal. You’re a danger to people, and some of them might be a danger to you. So you stay with me, under guard, where I can protect everybody.” He pointed to the stacked locks on the door, which she’d failed to study the day before. The door was metal, huge, and obviously not native to the building. “There are locks on both sides, and I have all the keys. One of us could take the couch, but frankly, it sucks.”

  What should’ve been the worst come-on she’d ever heard actually sounded like the truth. It was a pretty cage, but a cage nonetheless. She needed freedom. “I want my own place.”

  “You’re not safe, and I can’t have guards on you 24/7. Sometimes it’s just me, and I need sleep. So you sleep when I sleep, and everybody sta
ys safe. Period.” He stretched an arm above his head, showing that amazingly cut chest. “Like I said, I won’t force you. You want the couch? It’s yours.”

  She eyed the cold-looking, rather worn leather. It was a freakin’ luxury compared to sleeping on the hard ground, but even so, now she’d had a taste of a real bed again . . . “A gentleman would give me the bed.”

  He scratched the stubble next to his scar. “All the gentlemen are dead, baby. Soldiers and survivors are what we have now.”

  She pushed up to one elbow, discreetly eyeing the locks on the door before studying him. “How dangerous is it here for me?”

  “Very.” His eyes darkened from bourbon to Guinness. “We have many who haven’t been infected, and you are a carrier.”

  “Anybody who survived the fever is a carrier.”

  “As you know, there are rumors that you carry a new strain of the disease.”

  More lies meant to force her away from other people. “We already discussed that. Either you believe me or you don’t,” she whispered.

  His expression didn’t gentle. “There are so many rumors and ghost stories out there; I don’t pay attention to them.”

  She swallowed, her throat clogging. “Good. There is no new strain of the bacterial infection. I’m no different from anybody else who’s survived Scorpius.”

  “You’re the only one with a blue heart.”

  “I know. I was infected with the main strain, and then we used one of the many experiments to save my life, turning my heart blue. We were never able to duplicate the exact concoction again, although since it didn’t cure me, I’m not sure it matters.”

  “You’re different. How can it not matter?”

  She sighed. “My heart is blue, as are a few veins around it. I have both photosphores and chromatophores in my heart, which without the initial bacterial infection would be impossible. Squids and octopi have the same materials, essentially, and they can turn different colors—usually blue.”

  “So you have squid genes?” His brows furrowed, and his gaze pierced her.

  She snorted. “Not exactly, but close enough.”

  “Wait a minute. Aren’t squid and octopuses high in vitamin B?”

  Wow. Smart guy, wasn’t he? “Yes.”

  “How does that relate to your heart?”

  “I don’t know, except when we were experimenting for a cure, we used a lot of B. Obviously.”

  For a moment that ticked into tension, he just studied her with those dark eyes.

  She had to look away from such intensity, so she glanced at the boarded-up window. “How secure is your facility?”

  “Very, but we’re known, and the battles in L.A. aren’t finished. We’re all regrouping.”

  Her stomach rolled over. “The battles aren’t over? But the news reported—”

  “The news was wrong. We still have groups vying for position and for food sources. In fact, once we’re stronger, we might have to move north to more fertile land. The food here won’t last much longer.” He sighed. “Can you give me any statistics on what’s out there right now?”

  She bit her lip. “Lots of smaller groups trying to organize, from what I saw. We stayed away from cities, so I don’t know the stats of how many people are still untouched and how many are Rippers.”

  “What about the status of the U.S. military? Or, shit, the entire world?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She rubbed her eyes. “Even before I escaped, I wasn’t in the loop, not really. We were contained in the CDC, doing our research. I wasn’t allowed out very often.”

  “Billions are dead.”

  “Yes.” Her chest grew heavy. “Billions are definitely dead. I hoped I’d be safe here.”

  Jax shook his head. “We need to move soon, and I need data about the threats out there. The north of L.A. is controlled by a group called the Mercenaries, and they’re worse than Rippers.”

  She internalized a truth she hadn’t fully realized. There was no safe place. Studying him, she frowned. “Most people would be afraid to be in a bed with a Scorpius survivor. Scared they’d catch the contagion.”

  “Not much scares me.” He rolled his neck on the pillow. “Plus, that knowledge in your head? It’s pretty much our only hope. On the off chance that you’re carrying a more dangerous disease, I’d rather be a guinea pig than do nothing.”

  “I’m not carrying a new strain.”

  “I believe you.” He leaned up on one muscled arm, mimicking her pose. “Like I said, I don’t listen to rumors.”

  “Good. But you have to know there’s a bounty on my head.” After she’d escaped, the Elite Force had been created to hunt her down, and they’d offered money for help.

  He frowned. “Well, I know there’s a reward for your safe return. How is that a bounty?”

  “How is it not?”

  “Did you know the latest reward is not only money but stores of vitamin B for anybody who brings you back to the CDC?”

  Her lungs compressed. Vitamin B was more valuable than money these days. “That would help a lot with infected persons.”

  “Maybe. It seems to me that anybody infected with the bacteria is screwed.”

  She shook her head. “Not everybody continues changing, especially if they keep up regular injections of vitamin B.”

  “Uh-huh. If you say so.”

  “Even if some folks who initially survived the plague turned into killers, that doesn’t mean they all will. There’s still a chance.” She knew more about the survivors than he did.

  “I don’t think so. Anybody who caught the fever, even if they seemed to survive it, will eventually succumb and become a Ripper,” he said.

  “I hate that name.” She flopped back down. “Jack the Ripper shouldn’t be immortalized, even if half of the survivors basically turn into serial killers with no empathy.”

  Jax shrugged. “What else would we call them?”

  She shook her head, not having a better answer. Silence ticked around them, and a new tension filtered through the room.

  Vulnerability and an unwelcome sense of curiosity swamped her. She was in bed, practically nude, with Jax Mercury. What now?

  Chapter Six

  It is the individual, the heart in one humble man, where good and evil ultimately fight it out.

  —Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony

  Jax kept still and tried to banish the hard-on partially hidden under the bedspread. The last thing he wanted was to spook the woman, and truth be told, he’d just had his best sleep in months. Something about wrapping his body around the tiny brunette, holding her close, and smelling her gardenia scent had relaxed him on a subconscious level. Yeah, she was dangerous as hell, but there was a delicacy within her that called to him. On too many damn levels.

  Unfortunately, he needed to get his ass out of bed and get to work. Medical supplies were dangerously low, and he’d already planned three raids for the day at clinics in the Malibu area. Chances were the places had been raided already, but he had to find some penicillin. There were several pet shops between Vanguard territory and Malibu, so he’d scavenge there, too. Fish food held plenty of antibiotics, and most survivors didn’t know that fact.

  First he had to get Lynne Harmony to Tace’s lab to go through documents. She obviously had a plan and needed his documents to make it happen. “What do you hope to find in the research we raided?” he asked.

  She bit her lip. “I need the actual research results because ours were destroyed in the explosions at the CDC facilities. So much goes into synthesizing vitamin B that I can’t remember the formulas. Not all of them, anyway.”

  His instincts started to hum. The woman kept a straight face, and her eyes remained focused, but he could almost smell the lie on her. “What else?” he whispered.

  She shivered.

  Damn, but he didn’t want to threaten her again. “Tell me, Lynne. You have no choice.”

  Her pretty green eyes searched his face. Finally, whatever internal debate she was
waging seemed to end. “There’s a top-secret lab called Myriad located somewhere in Los Angeles.” She held up her hand as he started to speak. “I don’t know where it is, but I’m hoping the location is buried somewhere in the data you stole from the other labs. It has to be.”

  Heat flushed through him. “What’s at Myriad?”

  She pushed away from him, setting her back against the wall again. “At a minimum? The formula for stabilizing vitamin B in the body.”

  “At the maximum?”

  “Maybe a cure?” She shook her head. “Or at least the beginning of the research for a cure to Scorpius.” Suddenly, she grabbed his arm with surprising strength. “But I’m not the only one looking for that cure. There are people coming who want to destroy any possible cure and let nature run its course.”

  An alarm blared through the day before he could ask another question.

  “Shit.” He jumped from the bed and reached for a walkie-talkie. “Status?”

  “Attack from the south and straight at headquarters,” came the garbled response. An explosion rippled up, and the building shook.

  “Damn it.” He yanked on jeans, T-shirt, and a refurbished LAPD bulletproof vest, donning his shoulder holster and shoving various knives into place. Two steps took him to the cupboard under the sink, where he yanked out pistols and an AK-47. Striding toward the door, he turned back to the bed.

  Lynne sat up, her hair mussed, her green eyes wide. Defenseless and so damn feminine his gut ached. The woman had sought him out, and she had no reason to harm his people. Knowing it was a fucking mistake, he tossed her a pistol. “Get dressed and get ready to run. Stay in the room unless I come and get you—stay out of the way. Don’t let anybody, and I mean anybody, see you.” He paused. “Shoot anybody who tries to hurt you.”

  Jumping into his boots and lacing them up, he elbowed out the door and quickly locked it from the outside. Lynne would have to lock the one inside, and he was the only person with the key to release that one.

  He ran toward the stairwell as gunfire echoed outside the building. A large crash shook the ceiling tiles, and the smell of smoke assaulted him. He took the stairs down three at a time, his gun out, his senses on full alert.