Justice Ascending

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She went limp.

  He took care of the condom and dragged the covers over them, turning her into his arms. “Rest for a couple of minutes. Then we’re going again.”

  She murmured against him, tucked in, warm and full of bourbon. “We have about an hour.”

  A sharp rap on the door pierced the silence. “The moon is full, but there are clouds now. It’s time you folks went home,” Greyson rumbled.

  Sami sighed and moved away from the warmth. “So much for going slow next time.”

  Chapter Ten

  The world doesn’t create darkness. I’ve found that true darkness, the real kind, comes from within.

  —Tace Justice

  The tension gripping Tace finally abated as they reached Vanguard territory in the same crappy truck they’d used before. Damon drove, which explained why the guy hadn’t been lifting his glass and cheering with everyone the night before.

  The drive had taken three hours, but they hadn’t seen another soul. No Rippers, no rogue gang members, no lost civilians. It was as if the world had taken the night off.

  Dawn had yet to break, but the moon poked through the clouds enough to provide plenty of illumination. Sami had fallen asleep curled into his side like a little kitten. That’d make a great nickname for her, but he knew the first time he used it, he’d get a fist to the face. The pain might be worth it to have a special name between them. Man, he was losing it.

  She shifted against him, and he settled an arm around her.

  “No,” she breathed.

  He stiffened, ready to back off, and then realized she was dreaming. “Sami.”

  She bolted upright with a scream that had Damon jerking the wheel to the left. He corrected and slowed down. “What the hell?”

  Tace grabbed Sami’s arms and turned her toward him. “Wake up. It’s just a nightmare.”

  She blinked and reality returned to her eyes. Several deep and shuddering breaths wracked her small body, and then she relaxed. “I’m fine.”

  “Now that was a nightmare,” Damon murmured, driving around a pile of shoe boxes.

  Tace frowned. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, her face pale. “Fine. Just a bad dream.”

  “What about?” Tace asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.” Then she looked around and brightened. “We’re home.”

  Damon drove up to the first barrier, and the guards let them pass after seeing Tace.

  “You comin’ in?” Tace asked Damon when the truck rolled to a stop outside the large gate.

  “No.” The ex-cop craned his neck to look up at the cloudy sky. “I think I can make it back before it’s too light.” He left the engine running but jumped out of the truck.

  Sami smiled, looking about sixteen years old. Her hair was mussed around her face, and her skin was nearly translucent in the moonlight. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

  “You were tired.” Tace gave an “all okay” wave to the guards nearest the wide gate.

  She blinked, and roses filled her cheeks. “Yeah, but still.”

  “We were also tipsy.” And they hadn’t had a chance to sleep. “I kept point. It’s good to sleep.” Every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen visions of Sami being torn apart by Rippers, so he’d concentrated on the darkness outside. He’d deal with the darkness inside once they were safe. Fucking her had been a mistake, because all he wanted was to have her under him again. Now. “Let’s go inside.”

  She nodded and pushed away from him.

  He fought every urge he owned not to yank her back into his side. Instead, he stretched from the vehicle, did a quick inventory of any threats, and then extended his hand.

  She faltered and then slid her palm against his.

  His hand easily enclosed hers. Sometimes he forgot how damn tiny she really was. He helped her from the truck, wanting to get her inside the fence. Wanting? Hell, needing. Every nerve he owned screamed for him to put her into safety. The nightmare seemed to have shaken her, and a part of him, deep down, wished she’d share. The other part knew she was probably smart to keep her distance.

  What the hell was going on with him? He tapped his free hand three times against his hip.

  As her feet touched the ground, he pivoted to keep the outside world away from her. Every instinct in his body went on full alert to protect her.

  Damon strode around the truck and reached in for a wide box. “Stuff from Greyson. We’ll be in touch.”

  Tace took the box and led Sami toward the now-opening fence. He couldn’t exactly blame Damon for making a fast exit. Jax would probably torture him for information about the Mercenary territory if he stayed. Or perhaps hold him hostage to be exchanged for medicine and guns.

  Sami shook her head in the cool air.

  Yeah, his brain was a little muddled, too. “We drank too much,” he murmured.

  “I thought that was your grand plan to gain info?” She tripped and he steadied her with a hand at her waist, the box in his other arm.

  “It was my plan, but then the bourbon went down so smoothly.” He nodded at a couple of guards, and then his chest eased as they passed through the opening in the fence. Good. That was good. The headquarters building rose high and silent in front of them on the other side of the crumbling parking lot. Well, what used to be a parking lot.

  “Was it your plan to get me drunk?” she asked.

  It took him a second to interpret her words, and when he did, fire shot down his spine. He pivoted her to face him. Moonlight caressed the delicate angles of her face and made her look like an angel. Yet her words cut deep. “Are you kidding me?”

  She shrugged, her gaze dropping to his chest. “You seem awful strategic all of a sudden, Tace.”

  He breathed in sharply and grasped her chin with two fingers. No way was he letting her hide from what had happened between them. Yeah, they’d fucked up, but it was both of them. “I didn’t plan to get you drunk, no. Last night happened and we let it. I own my part in it.”

  “So do I.” That chin firmed beneath his fingers. “Just wanted to ask, that’s all.”

  “Well, you did.” Why that made his chest feel like she’d hit him with a hammer, he wasn’t sure. He released her and strode toward headquarters, holding the door open.

  She swept inside where Jax Mercury waited, surrounded by candlelight. The Vanguard leader wore ripped jeans, combat boots, a dark T-shirt, and a scowl across his face. His eyes were the exact color of the bourbon they’d been drinking without the welcoming warmth.

  Tace handed over the box. “Shit from Grey.”

  Jax set the box down on an old table that had always sat in the building’s entryway. He ripped it open.

  Tace peered over his shoulder. Two bottles of bourbon, twenty vials of B, various antibiotics, and a letter with Maureen Shadow’s name on it. He whistled. “That does look like a good-faith gesture.” His vision went black.

  “We’ll see. Is there anything we need to discuss immediately?” Jax asked.

  Sami answered when Tace kept silent. “No. We found one of the storage depots, and they’re well stocked.”

  “All right. I want a report from the two of you tomorrow morning that includes estimates of Merc holdings, provisions, and soldiers. Then I want an infiltration plan,” Jax said. “Get some shut-eye before you do that.”

  Tace stepped back, trying to picture the vestibule in his mind. Two more steps back, and he put himself against the wall. The darkness over his vision dug deep and pierced his brain with pain. “Not a problem,” he managed to say.

  Weakness attacked his left arm. He drew in a breath.

  “You okay?” Jax asked, his voice sounding far away.

  “Yep. Just had too much bourbon.” Tace forced a grin. The world lightened, and he could see again. What the hell was going on? A residual pounding remained in his temples, and he tried not to wince. Or cry like a baby. “I’m not tired. Maybe I’ll hit the lab and get some work done.”

  “Tell Lynn
e she has about fifteen minutes to get her butt to bed, or I’m coming for her.” Jax turned and carried the box up the stairs.

  Sami swallowed. “I’ll, ah, talk to you tomorrow.” She pivoted and all but ran for the stairway.

  “Yeah, you will,” Tace murmured. He wanted to stop her, to make her face him, but he could barely see. All right. He could figure this out. He hustled through the vacant soup kitchen and into his domain, the former free clinic. Light flickered down the hallway, so he skirted the reception area and high-tailed it to Lynne’s makeshift lab. “Harmony?” he asked.

  She looked up from a stack of papers, her green eyes tired, her lips pursed. The halogen lantern next to her cast an eerie blue glow over her face that matched the one from her T-shirt. “You’re back.” She smiled. “How did it go?”

  He glanced behind him and then stepped inside. “I need help with a patient.”

  She straightened. “You’re the doctor here. What’s going on?”

  “You’ve studied Scorpius longer than any of us have.” He yanked out a plastic chair and dropped into it. “I’m not sure what’s going on. During your initial research, before communications went down, had any Scorpius survivors gotten episodes?”

  “Episodes?” Lynne shoved blond hair out of her face and leaned toward him. “What does that entail?”

  “Weakness in limbs, blurry vision, possible unconsciousness.” He swallowed.

  She frowned. “I don’t think so, but everyone had different symptoms with the fever. How long has your patient been infected?”

  “A few weeks,” he said.

  She lifted her chin, her intelligent gaze narrowing. “Ah.”

  “Isn’t me,” he countered quickly. There was no question her loyalty was to Jax, and she’d tell him if one of his top lieutenants was having episodes. But Tace couldn’t let Sami out on missions without him. All of a sudden, more than ever, he needed to cover her back. “It’s a scavenger, one of the best, and I’m worried what will happen to him if we send him out.” Tace purposely made the patient a male in case sex became relevant.

  Lynne gestured toward the series of boxes in the corner. “There are old patient studies over there, if you want to scour through them. Everything happened so quickly with Scorpius that we just don’t know much. It’s not impossible that there will be long-term repercussions with a bacteria like this. But I haven’t heard of anybody in Vanguard dealing with symptoms like that. Just the headaches.”

  “Yeah.” The headaches were a killer. Migraines to the nth power, and they didn’t seem to abate after time. “I’ll go through the patient records tomorrow.” He was too far away from Sami. What if she needed help? He stood and held out a hand. “I promised Jax I’d bring you with me.”

  Lynne scrunched up her face. “How late is it?”

  “It’s beyond late to early,” Tace said.

  Lynne winced and stood, grasping the lantern. “I guess I could sleep. What did you learn in Merc territory?”

  He escorted her out of the clinic and through the soup kitchen to the stairs. She only tripped twice, which was a record for her. “They have a lot of supplies, I think. But they’re also all soldiers prepared to fight. If Jax orders a hit, we’re going to lose a lot of people.” Sami couldn’t go. He just couldn’t let her put herself in danger like that.

  What was wrong with him?

  He’d been fighting by her side for months. Hell, until the other night, she’d kicked his butt every time. Had things shifted when he’d made her tap out? Or had they changed because they’d had sex? Or was it him? Was he becoming obsessed?

  They climbed the stairs, and he left Lynne at her quarters. The light disappeared when she shut her door. His eyes adjusted, and he continued down the dismal hallway, pausing in front of Sami’s door. Was it locked? It had better be locked.

  He flattened his hand on the rough metal and leaned in, listening.

  Nothing.

  She was probably asleep. So close, though. He could open the door and be inside with her, surrounded by her.

  No.

  He was starting to freak himself the hell out. Turning, he headed down three doorways to the room at the end and shoved inside. Moonlight poured in the window at the far end of the apartment, more than lighting his way. His ugly beige bedspread was still in place. Bummer.

  Stomping inside, he set his jacket on a broken chair and continued to drop onto the perfectly made bed. His head ached at the base, and the pain radiated down his back.

  But at least he wasn’t numb anywhere. Yet.

  He breathed in and out slowly, counting balloons. Then dogs. Then cats. Then Sami’s different expressions. There were hundreds. After about an hour, he rolled from the bed, smoothed out all the lines, and moved to the couch, extending his legs to the coffee table.

  What was Sami doing?

  Sleeping, damn it. Which was exactly what he should be doing.

  He reached down and flicked on the lantern. The Hello Kitty journal lay next to it. Sighing, he reached for a pencil and the journal to write something. Anything.

  Sami. Samantha. Sami Samantha Steel. Samantha Steel. Did Sami have a middle name? He should find out. Maybe Susanna? Lynne? Florence? God, he was totally losing it.

  Flipping the page, he sketched her face in long, broad strokes. Her expression was languorous and satisfied with a spark in her eyes. The look she’d had right after she’d reached orgasm. Pink cheeks, parted lips, relaxed face. So much contentment in those eyes that he could’ve drowned.

  His entire body tightened. Whoa, boy. Down.

  His damn cock didn’t listen.

  He turned the page and sketched her in full tactical gear out on a raid with her hair up and intense concentration in her expression. Then another sketch with her talking to little Lena.

  The night wore on, and he lost himself, forgetting consciousness for a while.

  The moon turned to a soft sun. Blinking, he looked toward the window. It was maybe midmorning. Where had the entire night gone? What the hell?

  He slowly turned his head and looked around the couch.

  Sketch after sketch after sketch of Sami Steel lay all around him. On the sofa, on the chair, all over the table. He glanced down to see a myriad of sketches littering the floor.

  He flipped the journal closed. His obsession had switched from organizing things to something else. Somebody.

  Sami.

  Chapter Eleven

  Every murderer has a good reason in his own mind to kill.

  —Dr. Vinnie Wellington, Perceptions

  Sami had had another nightmare where white walls and danger surrounded her, so she’d almost hunted Tace down the night before to make her forget the past. Morning had finally arrived, and she’d headed to work. She took a big drink of her coffee and settled at the monstrous conference table in the Vanguard war rooms. Her body had been on fire all night, and Tace Justice had promised her another round before they’d been interrupted by Greyson.

  But they’d said only those hours.

  Now it was back to business and she needed to calm her raging hormones. Maybe her body was like a valve. She’d been so content to concentrate just on work, and now after having had good sex, she wanted it again. By that logic, she’d be fine in a couple of days and then move straight to spinsterhood. Yeah. That would work.

  Tace strode into the room wearing worn jeans and a blue T-shirt that stretched across his packed upper body.

  Her mouth went dry.

  His eyes sizzled like the sky over the ocean on a heated day, deep and blue. A shadow covered his square jaw, drawing attention to his full lips. Or maybe that’s just where her gaze wanted to go. For the rest of her life she’d remember the feeling of his mouth, firm and busy.

  She shifted in her seat.

  He took the chair across from her and didn’t look her way.

  Um, okay. She kept her face expressionless. So he didn’t give her a look or smile. So what? She needed things to be normal. Even so, maybe a li
ttle bit of reassurance wasn’t out of line. Was she just a quick lay? A pit opened up in her stomach. Maybe he was just a quick lay. Yeah, that was it. She’d used him. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. What in the world? She batted them away and took a long drink of her coffee.

  Jax finished taping an old map of Santa Barbara up on a whiteboard. He glanced at the full wall of windows. “We have enough light with the sun that I’d like to conserve the lanterns. Let’s get this done during daylight.”

  Raze Shadow stalked silently into the room and took a seat next to Sami. The guy exuded danger. He’d pulled his dark hair back at the nape, drawing attention to his sharp Native American features. He had a gun at his hip and at least two knives strapped to his thigh. His light blue eyes cut her way. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.” She took another sip of the coffee, the tears gone. “Is it just the four of us?” It had been a while since it was just the four lieutenants in a team meeting.

  As if on cue, Maureen Shadow hustled into the room. “Am I late?”

  “No. I just wanted to give you this.” Jax slid the letter from Greyson across the table.

  “What the hell?” Raze asked, reaching for the envelope.

  Moe beat him to it, snatching it against her chest. “My name is on it, dumbass.”

  Sami bit back a smile. She hadn’t had a chance to get to know Maureen yet, but so far, what she saw, she liked. The woman was in her twenties, had black hair, and the same odd blue eyes as her brother. She was some sort of food development expert, whatever that meant. Something about creating food sources for underdeveloped countries . . . which now included home.

  “Read it,” Jax said, and then added, “Please.”

  Maureen shoved back curly hair and gingerly opened the envelope to read.

  “Dear Maureen,

  I trust that you’re safely back with your brother, and I’m glad you’re all right after being kidnapped by the president,” Maureen read, and then snorted, looking up.