Marcus stood, looking at the silent sentinels. “These were searched thoroughly last time, right?”
“Yes,” Jax said, studying the homes. “But I’m free right now, and whatever that is on the ground is new. Want to check out a few old crack houses?”
“Yeah.” It was a long shot, but the crap covering the scrub grass was fresh. There was no reason anybody had been across that lawn, or what used to be a lawn, with anything that would stain it, even temporarily.
Marcus headed for the first door, kicking it open with his boot. There was no need to be quiet. He wanted anybody inside to charge him. Nothing came at him. Sighing, he aimed his light inside to an empty room that had been stripped down to the floorboards. Dust and mold assaulted his nostrils, and he turned his head to sneeze.
“Bless you.” Jax moved past him, sweeping into what must’ve been the kitchen at one time.
They moved in unison, clearing the home and not finding anything interesting. In fact, they didn’t find anything at all. Not even a pot or cake pan still took residence in the house.
“Let’s check the next one. There are eight in each row, and if they’re all like this, we’ll be done in a couple of hours,” Jax said, turning for the door.
Something about the living room wall bugged Marcus. He moved to the fireplace and studied the fake bricks. “One side of the fireplace is set farther back than the other,” he muttered.
Jax cocked his head. “Could be the closet on the other side?”
“I don’t think so.” Marcus stood straighter and kicked square in the middle of the wall by the fireplace, and his foot went right through, throwing up dust from the sheetrock.
“Huh.” Jax reached for shards of wall and tore them apart, shining his light into a small room with stacks of white powder and bags of pot. “Well, we found cocaine and marijuana. I guess we could use the drugs medicinally.”
Marcus stood back, his head hurting more. “I was hoping we’d found Rippers.”
Jax clapped him on the back. “The night is young, and we’ve already found something. I guess we should tear these places down to the bones.”
“I guess.” Marcus moved into the darkness outside and headed to the next house. Maybe there’d be something better than drugs in there.
There wasn’t.
They cleared three more houses without finding any secret hidey holes or drugs. Marcus was losing interest when he kicked another wall by another fireplace, this one in the farthest house, which was right next to the fence. He hit a beam, and pain ripped up his leg.
Jax leaned to the side. “There’s no hidden room there, Slam.”
No shit. Marcus turned for the door, his steps heavy. “That hurt.” He moved silently across the floor and out the front door, his hip starting to hurt as bad as his leg. His boots thudded mildly. “This was probably a waste of time.” The crap in the grass was probably just something somebody had spilled.
“Probably.” Jax kept pace with him, moving to the next house.
They cleared them all, not finding a damn thing. Marcus wiped sweat off his forehead as he walked toward headquarters with his brother next to him. Electricity filled the air, and clouds billowed in to cover the moon. “Guess you’re going to get more rain for your coffers.”
“Guess so,” Jax agreed, hitching his pack to his other shoulder. He kicked a rock, and the pebble clicked down the road. Pretty loudly.
Marcus stopped cold.
“What?” Jax looked around, his body tensing.
“Something.” The night ran through his mind, something elusive just beyond his reach. “Noise. Footsteps. Mine.” He turned and viewed the row of silent houses.
Jax followed his gaze. “Marcus? Did your brain just explode in your skull?”
“No.” Marcus strode toward the fourth house. “When I hurt my leg, my limp didn’t make any noise. Not a sound on the floor.” All of the houses were poorly built, and each floorboard had protested vehemently the entire time they’d searched. Except for that fourth house. The floor had been deadly silent. “No sound, Jax. Nothing.”
“All right.” Jax jogged into place next to him. “Want to give me a little more than that?”
Marcus ran up the stairs to the living room, looking at the hole in the wall from his foot. Only rebar and boards showed. He jumped up and then landed on both feet, letting his full weight smash the wooden floor.
Nothing.
Jax dropped his pack and pointed his flashlight at Marcus’s boots. “Oh. All right.”
Marcus nodded. “I would’ve gone right through in most of these homes, or at the very least, cracked a board. Made a huge noise. Here? Nothing.”
Jax blew out air. “All right. It’s possible this floor was just build on concrete, but the board would still probably creak at least a little.” He went to the other side of the fireplace and tapped, listening. “This wall is solid. Let’s check every one.”
Marcus went to work, his heart thudding with the thrill of discovery. With another feeling. If he kept going like this, he’d be a regular emo-loving guy in no time. Ha. Probably not likely. The walls in the kitchen were solid and same with the bathroom. The back bedroom, smaller than the first, held two solid walls. He stepped into the closet and winced at the ugly paneling at the back.
He knocked.
A hollow thwap came back. He stiffened and leaned into the hallway. “Jax?”
Jax emerged from the bathroom, his gaze alert in the darkness. He moved up behind Marcus and pointed his flashlight at the paneling.
Marcus felt along the ridges, digging his fingers in every few inches. Finally, he found purchase with a small hole near the bottom and pushed. A door opened, revealing concrete steps leading down.
“Well, shit,” Jax muttered in his ear. “You have a gun?”
He shook his head and drew his knife out of the sheath in his boot.
Jax elbowed him to the side. “Guy with the gun takes point.” He led with his flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other.
Marcus followed, his feet silent on the rough steps as they descended to the hidden basement. They reached a landing, and Jax pushed another door open, this one looking heavier and maybe steel. Only silence and darkness met them. Jax swept his light around a large room with a wide purple Twenty gang design marking the entire north wall. A sofa, a couple of chairs, and several shelves made up the rest of the room. Guns and packets of drugs still lined the shelves.
“Must’ve been a Twenty drug house,” Jax said, moving toward the shelves. “The entire place is sound proofed. No wonder we didn’t hear anything in the flooring.”
Marcus didn’t mind not remembering his time in that gang. “The air down here isn’t as musty as it should be. Isn’t as still.” He couldn’t think of the right words to describe what he meant.
“Yeah.” Jax grunted and moved one of the metal shelving units to the side. “We always had more cubbyholes hidden.”
Marcus flashed his light on the metal door, now plainly visible. “Okay.” He reached for a Glock from the shelf. How he remembered that the mag held seventeen bullets was beyond him, considering he didn’t remember his favorite color. “I’m ready.”
Jax twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
The stench of sweat and bodily waste hit Marcus first before the sound came next. Growling and grunting, fierce and desperate. He pointed his weapon inside and watched as Jax ran his light over what looked like seven cells, each filled with a half-naked person and waste. At least they used to be people. They all rushed the bars, growling and yipping.
“Holy shit,” Jax said, sliding into the hallway and looking down the length to the end. “Another door, Slam.”
If Marcus had feelings, his heart would be hurting for these poor souls. Instead, he moved down the hallway, out of the reach of their filthy arms and nails, reaching the door. He kept his gun pointed as he opened it and looked down a large tunnel. “We have another tunnel.” It pointed east and out of Vanguard terr
itory. “At least we know how they got these poor people in and out.” He couldn’t see how far the tunnel ran. “What now?”
Jax came up behind him, ignoring the screeches of the dead. “There’s a cattle prod at the far end along with a bunch of dog food. We should put these poor victims down.”
Marcus nodded, his chest heaving. Maybe he did feel something. “Hold here for a second, and I’ll see where the tunnel goes.” Without waiting for an answer, and knowing his brother would stay in place in case the keeper of the house returned, he ran down the tunnel, the smell of old gin tickling his nose. Another one from prohibition? The Twenty gang had used the tunnels well. Finally, he climbed metal steps and shoved open a street grate in an alley behind an old tire store. It had started raining again. He looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. So he shut the grate and jumped down, quickly returning to Jax. “Leads to an area outside Vanguard territory. Nobody was around.”
Jax nodded, looking toward the quieting Rippers. “All right. I’ve got this, Marcus. Why don’t you head back to your apartment and get some rest?”
Neither one of them was going to be able to sleep. “No. I’m here to help.” There were two women and five men, or what used to be women and men. Now they were animals in pain. There was only one solution. “I’ll take half.”
Jax swallowed, his face pale in the semi darkness. “I don’t mind doing this.” His tone said the opposite. He hated doing this.
Marcus said a quick prayer to a God he didn’t know if he had ever believed in. “Afterward, we should wait for whoever’s holding them to come back.”
“From the look of things, it could be a while.” Jax’s voice went low and hoarse. “We have to get to that Bunker in Portland, but I’ll put two soldiers on this place. They can lie in wait for whoever’s coming. For now, I’ll get a list of everyone who doesn’t live at headquarters or in the main apartment buildings, since they might be bunking here. The list will probably be short.”
“All right.” They couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Marcus took a deep breath and did what he had to do.
26
Dating without emotions is impossible. Just saying.
—Doctor Penelope Kim, Journal
Penelope finished cleaning up the clinic after releasing the last of the Pure survivors. They’d be weak and have horrendous headaches for a couple of weeks, but they’d survive. Of course, they had to move into new quarters since they could no longer live with the Pure. She really needed to figure out if Scorpius had died out or not.
It seemed that since April and Damon lived with all the kids and still hadn’t gotten infected that the threat was over. Except for human to human, bodily fluid contact, of course.
She stretched her back, oddly out of sorts. Marcus hadn’t slept in her apartment last night, and when she’d knocked on his door this morning, he hadn’t been there. Where had he slept? Had he slept at all? After a day being hypnotized by Vinnie, he should’ve gotten some rest.
The back door opened and a guard let Larry Sowers in. This time, the soldier had a cut on his hand.
She sighed. “I feel like you’re getting injured just to see me.”
He laughed, his surfer blue eyes sparkling. “Well, that is something I would do, so I can’t blame you for the thought. But I was searching the storage units to the west along with Raze Shadow, and I cut my hand trying to lift one of the doors.” He perched on the tall examination table. “The doctor at inner territory was up all night with two sick kids, so the office is closed.”
She looked at his hand and then reached for the suture kit. “You’re starting to resemble Frankenstein’s monster,” she mused, wiping blood away from his thumb.
“Then I fit right in.” He seemed to be in a good mood this morning.
“Did you find anything new in the storage units?” She pressed his flesh together, trying to get the angle just right.
He shook his head. “No. We’ve searched this entire territory three times, and there are no hidden Rippers.”
That was a relief, at least. “Now we just have to figure out who put those poor Rippers inside. Can you imagine that? Using Rippers like that—I can’t even fathom it.” She set to work, stitching his hand.
“Yeah, no kidding.” He cleared his throat. “I heard that you and Marcus were casual and all of that, so I was wondering if you wanted to grab a meal with me later. Just in the cafeteria.”
She had to admire his persistence. “Who says we’re casual?”
“He did,” Larry admitted. “I saw him on patrol earlier.”
That didn’t hurt. Nope. Not at all. “He wasn’t on the schedule to patrol today.” She concentrated on her job. Why would Marcus tell anybody they were just casual? They were more than that, although they’d promised no pressure. She didn’t feel casual. “When did Marcus tell you this?”
“Hey. I’m sorry if I just screwed up,” Larry said. “Honestly. This morning, after a really early breakfast, Marcus set out with Greyson to patrol along the outer warehouses, and a bunch of us suited up together. Jacob had heard you guys in the shower yesterday, and he made a comment. Marcus replied that it was just casual.”
Penelope bit her lip and finished the last suture. “No problem, Larry.” It did sound like a plausible scenario, and now everyone knew about her shower escapades. “Thanks for the invitation, but I can’t right now.” She needed to kill Marcus before eating again.
“Okay. Thanks, Doc Penelope.” Larry made a quick exit.
Familiar footsteps soon heralded Marcus’s arrival though the cafeteria entrance. He clomped down the hallway and stood in her doorway. “Did you eat breakfast?” he asked.
“Nope.” She tossed the garbage in the bin and turned to face him.
He looked broad and strong in his boots, jeans, and black shirt, and his eyes glowed a deep green rimmed with brown. “You need to eat, Penny.”
“Oh, do I?” She pressed her hands against her hips, awareness pricking along her skin.
He frowned. “Yes.”
Her face heated. “Since we’re so casual and all, I don’t think you need to worry about my eating habits, Marcus Knight. Now, is there something you wanted?”
His lips twitched, although confusion blanketed his expression. “Yes. I want you to eat breakfast.”
“Do you have to be so damn literal all the time?” She exploded, throwing her hands up.
He watched her, not moving an inch. “Yes.”
Oh, she was going to kick him in the face. If she could kick that far. She could make it at least to his gut. “How could you tell all the guys that we were just casual?”
“I didn’t. Not really.” Marcus leaned against the doorjamb as if he had all day. “Jacob asked if we were planning a wedding or just being casual, and I said that we were definitely not planning a wedding. We haven’t, right?”
“No. Of course we haven’t,” she sputtered. A wedding? Yeah, right. They only had sex—loud sex—in public showers.
He shrugged. “Okay, then. Let’s get something for breakfast.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. “We’re not done with this fight.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “We’re fighting?”
He was impossible. Anger whiffed through her, although she’d known he was literal. “You’re being obtuse.”
“I am?” He stood straighter. “How so?”
How in the hell could he sound so reasonable? “Listen. I don’t like you talking about us to anybody, especially if you just say that we’re casual. It makes me sound easy, like I’d have sex with anybody in a shower stall. Loudly.” The words shot out of her in rapid staccato style.
“Oh.” He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I didn’t say we were casual or that you were easy and likely to have sex in shower stalls with everyone. All I said was that we weren’t planning a wedding, which is true.” He held up a hand before she could blast him again. “I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing. It was a rough night, and I wasn’t c
ompletely on my game this morning. I’ll make it right.”
“No,” she snapped. “Do not make it right. Do not tell them anything about me or us or anything.” She was being unfair, but the whole thing still sucked. Maybe she didn’t have it in her to let things move on without emotions. “I’m not sure what to do,” she whispered, taking a good look at his face. Lines fanned out from his eyes, showing he hadn’t slept. “Why was the night rough?”
“Come and eat breakfast, Penny.” He held out his hand. “Now.”
Marcus was going to get powdery scrambled eggs into her whether she liked it or not. She looked like he felt right now. Exhausted and pissed off.
She sighed and took his hand, the anger disappearing from her eyes as fast as it had arrived.
He led her into the cafeteria and settled her in a seat before heading for the buffet counter at the far end and bringing back two plates of scrambled eggs. “This is all we have this morning.” He set a plate in front of her and sat down, his gaze on the unappetizing mass.
She sighed. “Remember the days of donuts?” Then she started and looked up. “Sorry. I forgot you don’t remember.”
“You forgot that I don’t remember,” he deadpanned, his body relaxing when she finally smiled. He dug into his eggs and let them slide down his throat. At least they were cooked thoroughly. Obviously, somebody besides Manny was in the kitchen today. “I figure I owe you an apology, although I don’t know how to keep from angering you again.” His head hurt, his gut ached, and he kept picturing those Rippers he had to put down, but having Penny mad at him was worse than all the rest.
She gulped down eggs and then swallowed several times, twisting her lip at the taste. “How about you don’t talk about our relationship to anybody?”
“We have a relationship?” He liked that. A lot.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, facing him head on. “Right?”
If she said so. “Okay. I won’t talk about us.” Hell. He didn’t like to talk about anything. This was easy.
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