Mercury Striking

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Duck.” Jax grabbed the back of her head and shoved down.

  She yelped.

  Bullets went over her head to pierce and then shatter the front windshield.

  “Shit.” Jax grabbed her shoulder and tugged her toward him. “I need you to drive.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision fuzzed. “I can’t.”

  “You can.” He jerked her up and onto his lap. “Wheel.”

  She dropped her gun onto the seat and grabbed the steering wheel, her foot pressing on top of his. “Oh God.”

  He slid out from under her, turned, and aimed through the shattered back window. “Keep it steady.”

  She pushed on the gas pedal and dodged around bricks and blocks of debris. Jax jerked toward her and grabbed the handle above the door to stabilize himself.

  “Sorry. Do you think it’s Cruz?” she gasped.

  “Not personally, but the idea that he has enough forces to stake out the local on-ramps concerns me.” Jax took a shot. “Especially since he knows about you.”

  A pile of what looked like burned street signs blocked the middle of the road. “Hold on,” she yelled, yanking the wheel to the left and jumping the curb. Metal scraped and sparks flew as the truck lanced along the sidewalk. “Shit,” she muttered, swerving to get back on the road. The truck landed with a bump.

  She looked into the rearview mirror to see the van on their ass. “Shoot them!” she screamed.

  Jax gave her a look and braced his arm on the back of the seat. He lowered his chin and pulled the trigger.

  The van jerked to the side, drove up a small Celica, and lifted into the air, spinning end over end to plow into an old movie theater. An explosion rocked the afternoon.

  “Yeah,” Lynne yelled, hitting the gas again.

  Jax turned around. “Drive steady.” He lifted his leg and kicked the rest of the windshield out of the way. Then he frowned. “Keep going and turn left into a residential area as soon as you can.”

  Wind blasted into her face, but she could see better. Kind of. Dusk was falling, and soon they wouldn’t be able to see anything without using the lights. She gulped down fear, and her body began to shake as the adrenaline faded. As soon as she could, she took a sharp left, nearly slowing to a crawl in order to maneuver around a bunch of railroad spikes scattered across the concrete.

  Without warning, her door was jerked open, and rough hands ripped her from her seat.

  Chapter Thirty

  When it comes down to the fine-edge of a moment, the moment, a hero always reveals himself.

  —Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony

  “Lynne!” Jax’s fingers brushed Lynne’s vest, but he couldn’t catch hold as she was dragged away. In one smooth motion, he twisted the keys out of the ignition and launched himself from the truck, his boots landing hard and splashing water.

  Lynne’s wide eyes begged for help. A man standing well over six feet tall held her by the neck, her back to his front. The guy wore a ripped powder blue suit covered in muck and what smelled like shit. His eyes were a wild blue, and dried blood coated his full beard. “Girl,” he growled.

  Lynne winced and stood up on her toes, obviously trying to breathe.

  A darkened bar rose up behind him, occupying the entire block. Dead silence came from within. The opposite side of the street held an old tire store, also abandoned.

  Another man, this one with long blond hair, crawled out from a pile of rocks in the alley next to the bar. He was buckassed naked and covered in bruises and cuts. He whimpered and snorted like a dog.

  “Listen,” Jax said evenly, “I don’t know what kind of a shit show we just walked into, but let the girl go, and I won’t shoot you in the head.”

  The guy on the ground barked.

  Jax kept his stance relaxed and his hand near his weapon. The beast holding Lynne could probably snap her neck or crush her larynx in a heartbeat. “I have food,” Jax said. “Granola bars.” A whole case, actually.

  The blond guy whined like a collie begging for a treat.

  Bile rose in Jax’s gut, and he swallowed it down. “We can reach an agreement.” Could the guy in blue even understand his words?

  The guy grunted and buried his head in Lynne’s hair. “Pretty,” he growled.

  Fuck. The weight of the blade in his boot had Jax sliding one foot back so he could move fast.

  The guy lifted his head. “Gun. I want it.”

  Jax glanced down at Lynne’s hip. Good. She’d dropped hers in the truck when he’d made her drive, so his was the only gun visible. “Okay. Let go of the girl, and I’ll give you the gun.”

  The guy smiled, revealing broken and black teeth. “No. Give gun now.”

  Jax clenched his teeth. “Listen—”

  The guy yanked up under Lynne’s chin, lifting her. She cried out, her head thrown back.

  “Okay—” Jax called out. He wiped rain off his face. “Okay.” He gingerly took his gun and held it out.

  “Throw,” the guy ordered.

  Death glimmered in the Ripper’s crazy eyes, but Jax didn’t have much of a choice. “Fine.” He tossed the gun and pretended to yelp as it slipped from his grasp and landed a few feet from the Ripper.

  The Ripper hissed and gestured to the one on the ground. “Fetch.”

  “Sit!” Jax ordered.

  The blond guy whined and looked back and forth between the two.

  “Stay!” Jax commanded. How fucked up was that?

  The Ripper holding Lynne howled. Keeping hold, he dragged her over to the gun. The second he leaned over, Jax lunged toward him. He slid one hand beneath the grip on Lynne and pushed, hitting her with his hip. She flew toward the guy on the ground.

  The Ripper in blue bellowed and swung a fist, connecting with Jax’s temple. Lights exploded behind his eyes, and he dropped to one knee on the crumbling concrete.

  “Yesssss,” the Ripper hissed, grabbing the gun. His face contorted, and saliva dribbled from his mouth to mingle with the water flowing over his face. “Bad girl,” he said, turning and pointing the gun at Lynne.

  “No!” Jax leaped up just as the weapon fired. The impact hit him square in the chest, in his worn vest, throwing him into a cement guardrail. Pain exploded through his body, but he shoved it down and propelled himself toward the man. Jax ducked his head and plowed into the stomach of the Ripper, throwing them both yards away to land in the middle of the street.

  The Ripper punched and kicked. Jax connected with a solid jab to the guy’s nose. Blood sprayed. He grabbed the gun and pressed the barrel under the guy’s beard.

  The guy’s eyes widened and his body relaxed. “Death good.”

  Jax fired.

  Blood squirted up his chest and across his chin. The Ripper’s head jerked once and then fell back to the ground. The corpse went lax.

  Jax turned in a crouch to see Lynne standing, bewilderment on her face, with the blond guy licking her hand. “Jax?” she asked.

  He stood. Agony rippled through his torso, and he had to concentrate to keep his steps even. Had the vest protected him at all? He reached Lynne and tugged her close, pressing a kiss to her wet hair. “Get in the truck, baby,” he whispered.

  As if in a dream, she moved woodenly, stepping over cement blocks to slide across the front seat. Jax turned and blocked her view with his body.

  The blond guy looked up and panted.

  Nausea boiled in Jax’s gut. “I’m sorry.” He placed the barrel on the guy’s forehead and pulled the trigger. His own body jerked with the sound, and more blood splashed across his vest. The Ripper fell to the side, dead before he hit the ground.

  Jax turned and strode through the rain to the truck, sliding the keys into the ignition. “We have to find shelter for the night.” Hopefully Raze and Byron had found their way home or to a safe place to hole up. For now, he had to get Lynne out of there. The gunshots would bring more Rippers and possibly gangs. Twenty was definitely out scouting for them, probably in droves a
t this point. They had about fifteen minutes to find safety.

  If there was such a thing.

  Lynne kept quiet, her arms around her knees, her body trembling as Jax somehow drove through the darkness without hitting anything. Finally, miles away from the dead Rippers, he pulled into the weed-riddled driveway of a faded yellow clapboard cottage. Empty flower baskets lined the front windows, and a sign hung on the door, proudly proclaiming that the Hernandez family lived there.

  “Hold on,” he said, jumping from the truck and lifting a weathered wooden garage door. He returned to drive the truck into the tidy garage. “Stay in the truck until I check it out.” He didn’t wait for an answer but jumped out of the truck to shut the garage door and then entered the single-story small home.

  Minutes later, he returned and held out a hand. “Let’s try to get warm, sweetheart.”

  The gunshots echoed in her mind, and the sadness of the Ripper who’d acted like a dog descended on her. Tears filled her eyes.

  Jax reached for her, drawing her across the seat. “I know.” He was warm and strong, and she allowed him to help her out.

  Her mind replayed the fight. Jax had jumped in front of a bullet and then fought a huge crazy guy to protect her. Then he’d done what had to be done without burdening her. She swallowed and wiped blood from his chin. “Are you hurt?” she asked, the idea unthinkable and frightening as hell. Jax couldn’t be hurt. Not because of her.

  “No.” He drew her into a dusty kitchen with dim yellow countertops and older white appliances. Three candles burned, lighting the space. “We’re in an area of town where people didn’t have much, so it hasn’t been completely looted yet.” He gestured toward the heavy blinds. “I’ve drawn all the shades, and we should be okay tonight.”

  She grabbed a candle to follow him into a living room with a sofa and matching floral chairs. No pictures adorned the wide mantel above the quiet fireplace. “They must’ve fled the city.” People always packed pictures first. Unfortunately, they’d probably also taken all the food and medicine.

  “I’ll be right back. Need to head outside and wash off the blood.” He walked through the kitchen and slid open a glass door, disappearing out back.

  She dropped to sit on the couch, too overcome to do anything else.

  Several minutes later, he returned, still dressed, wet and no longer bloody.

  Jax approached and knelt before her, a candle in his hand. “Let me see your chin.” His fingers were gentle as he probed, but pain rippled across her jaw. He winced. “You’re going to have quite a bruise.”

  She blinked and reached for his wet vest. “Let’s see what damage you have.” Slowly, she released the Velcro and dropped the vest before removing his wet shirt. “Whoa.” Purple exploded across his ribs in perfect striations. She gently felt along his ribs, biting her lip at his sharp intake of breath. Relief buzzed through her. “You’re bruised, but I can’t feel any breaks. There might be a crack or two.”

  He nodded. “I figured.”

  She leaned back, studying him. Strong muscles, masculine contours, unreal power. “God, you’re beautiful,” she breathed. The contusion only enhanced his deadliness.

  He wiped something off her cheek, his touch gentle. “I’m sorry I let him get you out of the truck.”

  She blinked and shook her head. “Jax, you screwed up.”

  He sat back on his haunches. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  Heat roared into her head. “No. That’s not what I meant.” When he became sweet, he stole her breath away. “You didn’t think, throwing yourself in front of a bullet. The group needs you a lot more than me. You can’t sacrifice yourself like that—not for me. You’re more valuable.” Life was hard, and they had to be logical.

  His chin lifted. “I couldn’t do anything else, Lynne.”

  She sighed. “Listen. I know I have the blue heart, and I know you think there’s a cure for Scorpius, but there isn’t. I’m definitely not the cure, so you can’t sacrifice yourself for me. For anybody, really. Survival is all that matters, and the group needs you to go on.”

  He smiled, his lip lopsided and kind of sad. His hand slid up her chest to flatten over her heart. “I didn’t jump in front of that bullet because your heart is blue, Harmony.”

  Her breath caught, and tension skittered through her abdomen. “Then why?”

  He leaned in and brushed his lips across her aching neck. “I jumped because your heart is mine.”

  She blinked and tried to shove back, only to find her hands spread over his impressive chest. Panic tried to rear up, but his gaze caught hers, and the fight was over. “You said—you said just fucking,” she whispered, fear squeezing her heart.

  He smiled, slow and sad. “I know.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “We’ve both lost too damn much to take a chance on getting close to anyone.”

  She frowned and instinctively leaned toward him. “I agree.” A new panic mingled with the fear. What was he saying?

  “It’s too late not to.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips, sending tingles through her entire body. “At least for me.” Sighing, he sat back on his haunches, his gaze remaining sure and steady. “I know I’m difficult. I spanked you, and I tied you up with a belt.” His bare shoulder lifted, rippling muscles. “I’ll probably do both again.”

  The words jolted her. “Hey.” Her hands fell into her lap.

  He shrugged. “Well, I will. Might as well be honest about it. I am who I am, and you’re, well, you.”

  Her head snapped up. I am who I am? “Listen, Popeye.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Cute.” His hands manacled her wet jeans around her thighs. “You’re smart and spirited, and I never thought I’d meet anybody like you. If there are bullets, I’m between you and them. If you get taken, I’m hunting you down till my last breath. And if you end up in hell, I’ll storm the fucking place until the fires go out.”

  Everything inside her—the good and the bad, the strong and the terrified, the feminine and the scientist—all turned over. An ache for him, one with a sharp edge, filled her throughout. Her mind tried to take control. “You don’t even know me.”

  “Don’t I?” he asked, gaze dark and so male it stole her breath away.

  “No,” she breathed, her hands fluttering over his.

  He flipped his hands over and captured hers. “You’re the woman who walked by herself into hostile territory, knowing there was a good chance you’d get your head blown off. Or worse.” He leaned in, brushing warmth across her skin. “You’re a woman who took and gave what she wanted with me, not playing games, not trying to manipulate me. You’re a woman who has worked in the infirmary with people who hate you, and you’ve sacrificed yourself to get to Myriad in the slim hopes of saving a humanity that probably doesn’t deserve saving.” His eyes softened to the color of warmed bourbon. “And you’re the woman who put her body between my best friend and certain death, trying to protect him.”

  She tried to tug away, and he held her tight. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Jax, I can’t—”

  “I’m not asking for anything from you, Lynne. I know who I am, what I’ve done. I’m a kid from the streets who got out and still killed, and now I’m just surviving until I take a bullet to the head.” He brushed her lips with his. “I’m just telling you how it is.”

  Desire blasted through her from just that simple kiss. “Man, you really don’t see yourself,” she murmured. How could she not open herself up to him? The guy had already walked through hell for her. “You’re a hero, Jax. You fight for people and don’t even know why, but you keep going.” She leaned in and kissed him. Hard.

  His mouth opened over hers, and he took over the kiss, as she’d known he would. He leaned back and tugged her shirt over her head. “You need to warm up.”

  She smiled and then faltered as blue reflected on his face. A glance down showed the neon blue across her chest, spreading into blood vessels before blending into her body.

  He placed a
hand over her heart and waited until her gaze lifted. “I like the blue.”

  Those words. Four simple words, and they stole the fight right out of her. She closed her eyes and then opened them, reaching for his belt buckle. “I’ll protect you, Jax.”

  He smiled and tugged her to land on top of him, shucking her wet jeans in one smooth motion. Weapons and clothing hit the floor, and soon she lay on top of him, his skin finally warming her. “You going to take up arms for me?” he asked, kissing her deep, sending her world spinning.

  She caressed over his broad shoulders. “No. I’ll just protect you.” It was all she had to offer, and she gave it to him. She licked along his jaw to bite his earlobe.

  He rolled them over, his gaze darkening with understanding. “You’re a sweetheart, Harmony.”

  The dim candlelight flicked over his sharp features, highlighting the wildness living inside him. He rose above her, so male and powerful, yet so damn human. “The world wouldn’t agree with you,” she whispered, sliding her hands through his thick hair.

  “Fuck the world.” He leaned to the side and yanked a condom from his jeans. “Today’s raid was a success, at least in one area.”

  Lynne chuckled. They’d found an entire box of condoms in an exec’s desk. Apparently the guy was prepared at work. Jax ripped open the foil and quickly unrolled the rubber. He poised at her entrance and slowly eased inside her, stopping several times for her to relax and accept his size.

  “Fuck, it’s like coming home.” He lowered his head and took her mouth, pressing her back against the carpet, his tongue claiming her.

  She kissed him back, her body rioting, feeling more than filled.

  He gripped her hands and pressed them above her head, entwining her fingers with his. Holding her in place. “Wrap your legs around me.” Even gentle, even sweet, Jax was all control.

  She obeyed, arching against him, groaning at the contact. Not only did she not have to be in control, but as usual, he wasn’t giving her the choice. That lit her on fire in a way she never would’ve imagined. He started to move, slowly at first and then with speed. Magma boiled up, sharpening her nipples, igniting a craving only he could satisfy. She lifted her hips, meeting him, taking all he could give.