Justice Ascending

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Sami shook her head and slid down to sit on the ground. No. Tace wasn’t that cold—no way.

  Yet she couldn’t help but shudder. The surgery went on for another hour, punctuated by terse comments and low expletives. Finally, Greyson caught her attention. “Call it, Justice. He’s done.”

  “Fuck.” Tace stormed out of the room and yanked off blue surgical gloves. “Damn it. Fuck.”

  Sami pushed to her feet.

  He leaned over and breathed out several times.

  Greyson strode into the room, his gaze somber. “I was there. You did everything you could in shitty conditions.”

  Tace stood and put his back to the wall, tapping his head several times pretty hard. “I should’ve saved him.” He shook his head, his eyes tracking nothing as he probably replayed the surgery.

  “You tried,” Sami said, wanting to approach him but not sure if he’d snap her head off. “I know you did.”

  Greyson sighed. “I’ll go round up a couple of guys to bury him. We’re getting drunk tonight, friends.” He smacked Tace on the arm as he walked by, his movements slow and weary.

  Silence pounded around the small room with death just a doorway apart. “I’m sorry, Tace,” Sami murmured.

  He lowered his chin, his eyes inscrutable. “What did you find in the storage area?”

  She blinked, and warning ticked through her abdomen. He’d gone from pissed to calculating in a nanosecond. “Medicine, water, and guns.”

  “A lot?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered, chills suddenly attacking her. “Did the medicine I brought help?”

  “Didn’t need it.” Tace wiped a hand across his eyes. “I lost that guy an hour before he died. There wasn’t a way to save him.”

  Sami took a step back. “But you tried.”

  “Of course I tried.” His eyes darkened. “Feel like shit that I couldn’t save him.”

  Yet the medic had still used the situation for them to gain information. “I, ah—”

  “We’re at war, Samantha.” His voice lowered with a matter-of-fact tone that cut right through her. “We had to go home with some sort of intel, and I figured out a way to get it.”

  She nodded. “I know. Man, you’ve changed.”

  “That’s the truth.” He scratched at the now-dried blood on his face. “You’re smart to stay the hell away from me. I’m sliding fast, and there’s no light at the end of the fall. Let’s help bury their dead and then commiserate and celebrate life with a lot of liquor.”

  “You wanna get drunk?” she asked, the world tilting. Where had her compass gone?

  “Why not? At the very least, maybe we can get information out of them when they’re drinking.” He looked down at his hands. “I need to clean up. There’s still blood on my hands.”

  Chills clacked down her spine.

  Chapter Nine

  Fighting just to fight doesn’t last. Everyone needs somebody to fight for.

  —Sami Steel

  Sami kicked her legs out and settled her boots on the antique coffee table, her head swimming and her belly nice and mellow. The chenille couch cupped her butt, and the fire from the massive stone fireplace flickered soft light around the darkened living room. Even though they’d finished hours ago, she was still pleasantly full. “That was the best dinner I’ve had in a year,” she murmured. Nothing compared to her grandma Juliana’s chicken casserole, however.

  Tace grunted in agreement next to her, swirling bourbon in a fancy crystal glass.

  “I’m glad you liked the fish,” Greyson said, his head back on a matching chair, his face in profile with the fire on the other side of him. “I hope it was good enough you’ll both come back. In fact, we could use a medic, Tace.”

  “No,” Tace said, tipping back his drink. “I belong at Vanguard.”

  “We need a doctor.” After nearly two bottles of bourbon between the three of them, Grey’s voice had mellowed and lost the hard-cut glass sound it usually had.

  “Yeah,” Tace agreed, leaning over to pour more alcohol in his glass. “Somebody better than me. I lost two of your guys today.”

  Sami blinked several times and then patted his hard thigh, her heart hurting for him. Even though he said he didn’t feel emotions any longer, there had been a lost look in his blue eyes after the second guy had died. Lost and desperate. “Nobody else could’ve saved either one of them. You did your best.” She tipped a little on the couch. How many glasses of the potent brew had she knocked back? Not that it really mattered.

  Tace drank his glass and poured another.

  “You have quite the tol-er-um, tolerance.” She blinked rapidly when his face wavered.

  “Texas, baby.” His words slurred a little, but he flattened his hand over hers, trapping it on his warm leg.

  She gave a weak struggle but failed to dislodge him. When he’d left her the previous night, she’d spent many restless moments replaying the entire kiss. Tace Justice could kiss, that was for sure. But they couldn’t happen. No matter how badly her body wanted to be naked against his. She had enough problems without trying to save him, too. She’d always fallen for the ones who needed saving, and it had always ended badly.

  At the mere thought, she shivered.

  “You cold?” Tace asked, releasing her hand to tug her into his side, his arm around her shoulders.

  “No.” She tried to push away and ended up nearly on his lap.

  “Settle,” he murmured, tugging gently on her hair.

  Greyson’s eyes opened, and he studied the two of them. “That’s why I don’t have women around here.”

  Sami breathed out. “You can’t keep going under your current organizational structure.” Whoa. Even three sheets to the wind, she could sound smart. Who knew? Maybe she should drink the good stuff more often. “You have to know that.”

  “Nope.” Greyson shook his head. “Soldiers have always carried out wars far away from home, without entanglements or spouses.”

  “Yeah,” Sami said softly, “but those soldiers had a home to return to. Yours don’t. This is their home. Once survival isn’t the only goal, people need something or someone to fight for. You’re not giving them that.” The booze was making her too verbal, and she needed to knock it off. “Or whatever.”

  Tace turned his head. “What or who do you fight for, Samantha?”

  When he used her full name in that slow Texan drawl, she felt like a Samantha. All feminine and powerful. “We’re still in the survival mode, Texas.”

  “Uh-huh.” His dark gaze roamed her face.

  She bit her lip. “And Vanguard. I guess we both fight for Vanguard.”

  Greyson cleared his throat. “Is Vanguard any closer to finding the Bunker?”

  Sami partially swiveled toward him. “You believe the Bunker exists?”

  “Yeah. Enough people know about it that I believe the place exists.” Grey leaned over and poured himself another glass, noted Sami’s empty one, and filled hers, too. “Don’t you?”

  She shook her head and tried to keep her expression clear. “Nope. I think it’s a wild tale whispered about to give hope. If the government had created some secret underground lab to study Scorpius or other diseases, we’d know about it by now. When Scorpius got bad, all secrets were let loose.” Was she saying too much? Trying too hard to convince him? She reached for her glass to take a couple of sips. The bourbon warmed her throat and heated her stomach.

  “That’s our Sami,” Tace rumbled, dragging her up on his lap. “Always the realist.”

  She struggled and ended up with her butt between his legs and her feet on the couch as he cradled her.

  Greyson sighed. “Just so you guys know, the stockpiles you found earlier are all we have left. Attack us for them, and we’ll take you out.”

  “We have more people than you do,” Sami returned.

  “We have sixty or so trained soldiers, and so do you. The rest of your group are either newly trained or civilians, and my guys shoot to kill,” Greys
on said. He cleared his throat. “Speaking of fighting, where did you learn so well, Sami?”

  “My dad and uncle,” she said, trying not to sink into Tace’s heat.

  “Ah. Your dad wanted a boy, huh?” Grey asked.

  “No.” She frowned. “Why?”

  Grey grinned. “No reason. That’s awesome, by the way.”

  She smiled. “My dad and I understood each other usually. Well, until I discovered boys.”

  Tace chuckled. “I can imagine that was tough for him. Did you go for street fighters?”

  “No.” She breathed out. “I went for lost souls and the brilliant nerdy ones. Always turned bad.”

  “I’m not brilliant.” Tace leaned in and nuzzled Sami’s neck. “But I’m definitely lost.”

  Fire lanced through her, and she turned to shove him away. “Knock it off.”

  Greyson stretched to his feet. “Tell Jax that I’ve asked everyone in Merc territory about his brother, and nobody has seen Marcus. I showed them all the drawing of the man.”

  Sami nodded. “We’ll let him know. Thanks for trying.” God, she hoped her friend found his brother.

  Greyson nodded. “It’s about midnight, and you two need to leave in a couple of hours to reach Vanguard while it’s still dark. Sleep off the booze. I have a thank-you box of provisions to send with you when you go. For good faith and all of that shit.” He loped by them and disappeared toward the bedrooms.

  “’Night, Grey,” Sami called out and then snorted. “And I thought Jax was grumpy.”

  “Jax is grumpy.” Tace tugged her so she straddled him, moving her easily. “So.”

  Sometimes she forgot his strength. His thighs heated hers, and this close, his unique scent of man combined with the rich smell of good bourbon. If she moved any closer, the obvious bulge in his jeans would be right where her body wanted it. “No,” she whispered softly.

  His chest shuddered. “I don’t need to ask why.” Yet his big hand flattened against her collarbone and swept her shirt down her arm. “So pretty and soft.” The pads of his fingers slid across her bare skin. “I dream about you,” he murmured.

  She stilled. “You do?”

  “Yes. Every night. Sometimes during the day. Always you, always sighing my name.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think you’re haunting me.”

  Those were sweet words that should be a little creepy but weren’t. Gone was the cold and calculating man from earlier, and in his place was the sweet Texan she thought she’d known. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her question pouring out of her before she could stop it.

  “I don’t know.” He traced a path up her jugular and beneath her jaw as if memorizing her shape.

  She wobbled on his legs and pressed against his chest for support. “We’re drunk.”

  “Yep. How easy would it be to, uh, use that as an excuse?” He tilted his head to the side and watched his hand spread out over her chest. “Isn’t that why we both kept drinking? Really?”

  If he moved any lower, her aching breasts would finally get some attention. “You don’t want to use booze as an excuse?” she whispered.

  “I do want to,” he murmured, moving his hand down and over her breasts. “Fuck, baby, I’d use anything for an excuse.”

  She gasped. Pleasure, too hot to be real, streaked from her nipples to her core. “Tace.” She closed her eyes as heat swept her in nearly painful tingles. How was it possible to want this badly?

  “The world sucks.” He leaned in to let his mouth wander across her neck and gently clasped one aching mound. “Shouldn’t we take pleasure when we can?”

  As a line, it was a damn good one. She wanted to laugh at them both, but she ached too much to find true humor. He palmed her, his big hand enclosing her entire breast. “Tace?”

  He lifted his head, his gaze square to hers. “I could talk you into this, but I’m not gonna. I don’t want that.”

  She blinked.

  He drew his fingers along her breast to caress her nipple, pulling just hard enough to steal her breath away. “You’re all in with your eyes open, or we’re done. One night, Sami. A couple of hours here in Merc territory and away from home.”

  She swallowed and couldn’t help pushing into his hand. They could die on the way home from a Ripper attack. Shouldn’t she take this one moment of pleasure? “Then it’s back to normal.”

  “It has to be.” He leaned in and licked across her collarbone.

  God. She couldn’t take it. She trembled. One time. Just a couple of stolen hours? This new, grown-up, desolate world did call for pleasure when possible since it was so rare. She knew one taste of him wouldn’t be enough, but once back at Vanguard, she couldn’t be somebody’s girlfriend. Not with the past coming close, and not if she wanted to continue to fight. And if he ever found out the truth, he wouldn’t want her anyway.

  He lifted his head and nipped beneath her jaw. “Samantha?”

  “This night—what’s left of it. Eyes open. Just one.” She could barely get the words out.

  He stood suddenly, his hands cupping her ass, and moved beyond the couch and through the house, somehow maneuvering perfectly fine in the darkness. One foot nudged open their door, and he stepped inside, letting her slide down his body. “Hold on.” He turned and blocked the door with the dresser.

  Moonlight poured in the window, making the butterflies all sparkle. She backed away and tugged off her shirt. A quick shimmy, and her yoga pants and boots hit the floor. They only had a couple of hours, and she didn’t want to miss a second.

  He stalked her, a hard-cut shadow, and tossed off his shirt. Weak light danced along the hard ridges of his abdomen and chest. His Vanguard tattoo—a shield, sword, and Scorpius with VANGUARD through the middle—was right above his heart. Hers was on her left shoulder blade with much more delicate lines. Her throat went dry. “Um.”

  “Um what?” he asked, shucking his jeans and boots.

  God. Tace Justice was naked with her. And he was all man. She swallowed and tried not to cough. “There’s just a lot to you.” Holy cow, he was big.

  He reached her and ran both palms down her bare arms. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure you’re more than ready.” Then he kissed her. Slow and deep, taking his time, his hand somehow finding the small of her back and pulling her into his strength. Hard muscle and heat instantly warmed every inch of her.

  “I, ah, it’s been a while.” Reality tried to intrude.

  “I know.” He backed her to the bed and bent her over, sweeping a hand down her front. “So pretty, Sami.”

  She scooted up, crossways on the bed, and he crawled up her to kiss her again. There was so much to him. He leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

  Hot. God, his mouth was hot. She arched into him, needing more. It had been too long for her.

  He nipped and sucked her, moving to the other nipple, his fingers tapping down her abdomen and finding her folds. She moaned and thrashed against him. He lifted up. “That sound. Make it again.”

  She tried to focus.

  He grinned then, his chin between her breasts, his hand between her legs. One thumb brushed across her clit.

  She moaned again.

  “Yeah, that.”

  “I know you like to take your time,” she ground out, moving against his fingers. “How about fast first and slow later?” If she didn’t get him inside her and now, she was going to implode.

  He blinked slowly. “You wanna take over this time?”

  “Yes.” She shoved his shoulders, almost crying in relief when he rolled to his back. She was wet and hot and nearly desperate. The bourbon in her blood was no competition for the desire he’d ignited. She grasped the base of his shaft, running her fingers up and then back down.

  He bucked against her, and a quick glance at his eyes confirmed they’d darkened. “Keep going, darlin’.”

  She smiled and straddled him, lifting herself up with her knees and positioning him at her entrance.

 
“Whoa.” He handed her a condom he’d tossed on the bed.

  She ripped open the foil and unrolled the rubber, feeling powerful as he arched against her. Then she grasped him and tried to lower herself on his thick cock. He reached for her breasts, caressing them, sending sparks of need right to her clit. Now, damn it. She tried to take him in, but pain instantly assailed her. She drew out air and tried again. Pain. “You’re too big.”

  “No.” He grasped her hip and rolled them both over. “Leverage helps.” Then he kissed her again, his mouth firm, his tongue sweeping inside hers. She tangled with him, shoving both hands through his hair. Her thighs widened. He deepened the kiss and started to penetrate her.

  She gasped, and he nipped her lips, taking her under again.

  Slowly, keeping her drugged with kisses, he worked his way inside her, taking his time, letting her adjust. She ran her hands down his flanks, over new scars and old battle wounds, her fingers wandering over all that taut skin. Nothing mattered but his body over hers. She reached his butt and squeezed. Nice and firm and oh so many muscles.

  He lifted his head.

  She blinked. He was fully inside her, pulsing. “Tace,” she whispered.

  “Fast this time, slow later.” He caught her face, his mouth working hers as he began to thrust. Hard and full, taking her deep, he started to pound. Each movement awoke nerves she hadn’t realized she had. Soon she was panting, her nails raking his back.

  Everything in the world focused on Tace Justice and how well he was using her body. She shut her eyes to just feel.

  “Samantha,” he said. “Open your eyes.”

  She opened her eyes to see the most primal male she could ever imagine. Determination and lust were stamped hard across his rugged face, but his gaze remained gentle. Concentrated.

  “Now, baby. Come for me,” he whispered. He thrust into her, filling her completely.

  The world disintegrated and she called his name, coming apart as pleasure took her over. She tightened and held on, her eyes shutting, and let the ecstasy take her away. When she came down with a soft sob, he dropped his head to her neck and shoved hard, coming with a shudder.