Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “No problem.” Raze scanned the area around them. “Let’s get you out of the open.” Slipping a hand beneath her arm, he hauled her up.

  Purple burst through the bushes, and two gang members ran through, already shooting.

  Raze hissed in pain and dropped to a knee, yanking her down while also firing into the neck of the first gang member. The second kept running beyond the house and toward the golf course.

  She gasped and turned to Raze, who remained on one knee, his head down. “Raze?”

  He lifted his head and then fell to the side. Blood poured from his leg.

  Lynne scrambled toward him and yanked off his belt, taking a look. “You’re okay,” she soothed, pushing him over.

  He groaned and bit his lip.

  She breathed out. “Bullet went right through.” She secured the belt and drew it tight, steeling herself against his hiss of pain. Then she helped him scoot his back toward the side of the house. “I need to help Jax.” He wouldn’t see Twenty coming, and Bret was already out there.

  Raze lifted an eyebrow, pain etched into his angled face, warning in his eyes. “You should stay here.”

  “I have to go,” she croaked out, standing.

  Raze stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Secondary weapon, left boot.”

  She reached down and drew a small Colt from his boot. “Thanks.”

  “Shoot first and talk later,” Raze said.

  Lynne nodded. “If help comes, there’s a FBI profiler, a woman, in a room off the kitchen who needs to be rescued.”

  Raze’s gaze sharpened and narrowed to the point she shivered. “Who?”

  Lynne shrugged, heading around the pool and toward the golf course. “Somebody named Vivienne.” Even with her mind focused, she didn’t miss Raze’s quick indrawn breath. Her shoes squished out water and her lungs still burned, but she crouched low and angled around bushes and a couple of trees to what looked like the green of hole number seven.

  Cruz held Jax against his chest, immobilizing him, while Bret smiled in the garish moonlight, gun out.

  Lynne skidded across the grass, pointing at Cruz and then at Bret. She tripped and the gun went off.

  Bret ducked, but blood spurted from a graze on his arm. “Your clumsiness is going to kill me.”

  Lynne gulped down air. “Let him go.”

  Cruz laughed out loud.

  She tried to gauge Jax’s status. Blood flowed from his shoulder and cascaded down his face from a forehead wound. His eyes were unfocused, but his muscles were clenched. He struggled against Cruz, who had a good hold. But if Cruz’s arms were around Jax, he couldn’t hurt him, so she concentrated on Bret. “Tell your buddy to let Jax go, and I won’t shoot you.”

  Bret smiled, his body somehow relaxed. “Come on, Lynne. You don’t do the dirty work, and we both know it. Let us finish with your boy toy here, and then you and I will talk again.”

  She settled her stance. If she shot Bret, what would Cruz do? Could Jax break free? “We can all still walk away.” And figure it out another day. Right now, surviving mattered more than winning. The fight continued around them, and at some point, more Twenty members or soldiers would find them. She only had a short window to get Jax out of there.

  Bret eyed her. “You can’t shoot me. You love me.”

  Lynne slowly shook her head. “I never loved you. Not even before you became a Ripper.” She glanced at Jax, who’d stopped struggling. “Now I know the difference.”

  Bret hissed. “You love that jarhead?”

  “He was army, you dumbass,” Lynne said quietly. “And yes, I love him.” With everything she had. If these were to be their last moments, she needed Jax to know the truth.

  “Well, now he’s dead.” Bret lifted his gun.

  Lynne squeezed the trigger, just like her uncle had taught her. The bullet struck Bret’s shoulder, and he fell onto the overgrown grass.

  She froze in place for a moment, almost waiting for him to get back up. Then she scrambled toward him and ripped the USB drive from his neck before moving several feet away, her breath panting out. Her gaze slowly swung to Jax.

  He moved suddenly, bending and throwing Cruz over his head. Jax followed him down, and the two rolled on the ground.

  A knife flashed.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I like the blue.

  —Jax Mercury

  Jax rolled on top of Cruz on the rough grass, trying to avoid the knife angled at his throat. Lynne was covering them with the gun, and he had to get her out of there before more soldiers showed up. The gunshot could’ve been heard for a mile.

  Cruz punched him in the shoulder.

  Jax gasped, pain lashing through the bullet wound. “Fucker.” He shot a hard punch into Cruz’s nose. Cartilage cracked and blood sprayed.

  Cruz reacted instantly, slicing across Jax’s thigh.

  The cut felt deep but the pain took a second to register. Nausea filled Jax’s stomach, and his ears rang. Agony cut through the nerves in his leg. Trying to dig deep and stay conscious, he shot an elbow down into Cruz’s gut.

  From his peripheral vision, Jax caught a soldier with a buzz cut hauling up a groaning Atherton. Lynne pivoted to shoot again, and the guy threw a knife. She cried out, clutching her shoulder, falling down.

  “Lynne,” Jax bellowed.

  Cruz grunted and grabbed the back of Jax’s head, pricking the knife into Jax’s throat. Jax grabbed the handle, his hand shaking.

  Jax stilled. Eye to eye with Cruz Martinez. “We were never brothers,” he muttered, blood dripping from his face onto Cruz’s. Jax had been a lonely, scared kid, and he’d sought solace and protection where he could. “I was just protecting myself.”

  Cruz spat out blood, his shoulders bunching as he tried to shove the knife home. “We weren’t brothers. But Marcus, Slam Mercury, is loyal to me, not to you,” Cruz gasped.

  Jax’s palm was slippery with sweat, and his arm vibrated with the fight for the knife as he looked down at the fucker who’d killed Marcus. Blood flowed from his neck. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lynne shifting to the side, struggling to stand. Atherton and the other guy had disappeared into the tree line. “Lynne, hold still,” he barked.

  She stopped.

  Tightening his hold on Cruz’s hand over the knife handle, Jax let all pain flow away. People counted on him, and he had to live. Had to protect Lynne. Digging deep, filled with resolve, he reached into his boot with his free hand, struggling with the sharp blade at his throat. “Why did you kill my brother?”

  Cruz smiled with bloody teeth. “He took to heart your bullshit letters about honor and doing something good and was actually convincing younger members there was a better way in life than running drugs. The kid needs to die.”

  Pride and sorrow mingled with the pain inside Jax until the words sank in. “Needs to die?”

  Cruz started laughing, blood bubbling up. “The world is a little fuzzy.”

  Jax focused, digging as deep as he could. “You motherfucker. Marcus isn’t dead, is he?”

  Cruz lowered his chin, hatred glowing in his eyes. “Oh, I shot the fucker, but we never found the body. Buried a bunch of rocks.”

  God. Marcus had gotten away. Was he still alive? Had he beaten Scorpius, too? A new hope, one he tried to control, filled Jax. “Marcus beat you.”

  “No, not possible. And I’ll keep looking till I find him.”

  “No. You won’t,” Jax whispered, striking hard with his own knife. “For Slam and Wyatt.”

  The blade pierced Cruz’s throat and kept going through his mouth. His eyes opened, and blood gurgled between his lips as he dropped his blade. Shock cascaded around him. “My brother,” he sighed.

  “No. I have real brothers now.” Jax shoved harder until only the hilt remained visible. Cruz spasmed beneath him and then went still in death. Jax coughed, his shoulder on fire. With a grunt, he used his good arm to free the blade. As much as he’d love to leave his knife in Cruz’s throat, they need
ed all the weapons they could find.

  Staggering, Jax eyed the silent tree line. The damn president had gotten away this time. “Fucker,” he muttered. “Always hated politicians.” He turned to look at Cruz Martinez one more time. Cruz’s eyes were open, dark with death. “Fuck you, too,” Jax said.

  Lynne ran forward and slid a shoulder under his arm, her gaze on the dead man. “We killed one monster, and we’ll get the other one soon,” she murmured.

  Jax placed a kiss on the top of her wet hair. “Your shoulder?”

  She glanced down at her bleeding arm. “Just grazed me. Isn’t bad.”

  Thank God. “Gotta move, Harmony.”

  She helped him around the building to where Tace and Sami kept point outside the house.

  “Status?” Jax barked.

  Sami wiped blood away from her mouth. Bruises marred the side of her face, and she was leaning on one leg. “We lost six people, have seven injured, we have secured the area. There might still be Twenty members around, but they’re either hiding or waiting to strike.”

  Tace rose to peer at Jax’s torso. “Where?”

  “Shoulder,” Jax returned. Six dead? He’d lost six, and he felt each one in the center of his chest.

  Tace grabbed him away from Lynne and turned him around, making his entire body ache. “Was a through and through. There are probably bandages here.”

  Sami stretched her neck, still favoring her leg. “I’ve checked the downed soldiers and haven’t found Lake, per your description of him.”

  Damn it. “Lake got Atherton to safety, but we’ll take them out when we regroup.” Jax glanced around. “Our mission parameters were to save Lynne, and we saved Lynne. Plus, we’re gonna raid this place. All weapons—everything we can find.” He grimaced as Tace poked his shoulder again. “Where’s Raze?”

  “Went inside to fetch a woman.” Tace nudged Sami. “Let’s go find medical supplies.”

  Sami followed him, stopping by the bushes. “Lynne? I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Me, too,” Lynne said, her voice scratchy. She turned to Jax. “Thank you for finding me.”

  Jax tucked her close, his world centering. His brother might be alive, and the next day, he’d start looking. But now he needed to focus on Lynne. She was everything he didn’t deserve, everything good, and he’d make sure she stayed safe for the rest of her life, no matter what he had to do. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She kissed his jugular and leaned back, her blue heart glowing brightly. “I am. You will be, too.”

  Jax shuddered as relief rushed through him. Life had turned into hell, but he’d found heaven. Somehow, he’d been given a gift beyond what anybody deserved, and he’d hold her close forever. “Good. By the way, Harmony. I love you, too.”

  Lynne cuddled next to Jax as he drove the truck while Raze held a babbling Vivienne on his lap. The woman was in a worn and wrinkled pencil skirt and tank top, her wild blond hair falling in a tangle down her back. She looked like a petite Barbie doll who’d gone through hell.

  They’d have to wait until the drugs left her system to figure out who the heck she was.

  Lynne’s eyelids half closed as Jax’s warmth spread through her. She’d slept for hours, and they’d be home soon. She’d worry about Bret later, and since she had the USB drive and documents from Myriad, maybe she could finally find a cure for Scorpius or at least a way to manage vitamin B.

  Tace and Sami shared a dirt bike behind the very full trucks, keeping pace. They’d managed to secure weapons, four generators, fuel, medical supplies, and some food.

  Lynne came to wakefulness, noting that Vivienne was still somehow talking. Had the woman babbled the entire trip?

  “God, you’re pretty,” Vivienne whispered, reaching out to rub Raze’s chin.

  Lynne studied them. Vivienne’s light coloring contrasted intriguingly with Raze’s darkness as the sun began to rise.

  He looked down at Vivienne. “Go to sleep, Vivienne.”

  She continued to rub his chin. “So pretty. Comanche?”

  “Cherokee,” he whispered back, gaze on the woman. “My mama’s daddy was half.”

  Vivienne giggled, the sound definitely drugged. “My mama’s daddy was a moonshiner.”

  Raze smiled.

  Lynne watched, interested. In the dawn, watching Vivienne, he seemed almost relaxed.

  Vivienne snuggled into his chest. “Grandpops called me Vinnie. My whole family did.” She yawned. “I miss them.”

  Raze patted a huge hand down her small back. “I know. Go to sleep.”

  The woman wiggled even closer. “Do you know where the Bunker is?”

  Raze frowned. “The Bunker?”

  “Yes. The government facility . . . where hope and the future live.” She giggled.

  Raze cut Jax a look, and Jax shrugged. “Tell me more.”

  “Later.” She yawned. “What’s your last name?”

  “Shadow.”

  “You feel good. Can I keep you?” she mumbled.

  Raze sobered. “No, but we can negotiate later.”

  Vinnie slid into a boneless sleep with a soft sigh.

  Jax turned his head just slightly over Lynne’s. “I thought she’d never fall asleep. Who knows what they shot into her veins. She seems to like you, Raze.”

  Raze shot Jax a look, his blue eyes cutting through the morning. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  “Not me. Nope.” Jax tucked Lynne closer. “Either of you ever heard of the Bunker?”

  Lynne shook her head. “Not a word.”

  “Me either, but maybe this woman had clearance with the FBI that we can only imagine.” Raze stretched out his legs. “Of course, I’m guessing.”

  “If you say so, and at some point, you’re going to tell me how the woman in your arms fits into your plans. Something tells me you knew we’d find her.” Jax breathed out.

  “I don’t have plans.” Raze rested his head back and closed his eyes.

  Yeah, he did. Lynne nodded slightly against Jax. They had to stick together. She fingered the USB around her neck that she had taken from Bret. Maybe they had a chance now.

  Something to worry about for another day.

  For now, she snuggled with a man she couldn’t believe existed, and she wanted to hold on tight.

  Finally, they reached home, and Jax insisted upon carrying her from the truck into the building. The entire community seemed to be waiting for them to arrive, and several people patted her arm or welcomed her back as Jax carried her through the rec room and up to their apartment. Lynne just blinked until he’d locked the door and set her on the bed.

  “Shouldn’t you get your shoulder treated?” she asked, not protesting as he drew off her clothing and tucked a clean shirt over her head. Her brain was fuzzy, and she needed more sleep.

  He smiled and shucked out of his clothes, revealing his hard warrior’s body with a fresh bandage over one shoulder. “After Tace bandaged you, he sewed me up in Nevada before we got on the road, so I don’t know what else he could do.” Jax set her under the covers and climbed in to hold her. “Although after you get some more sleep, you might want to get creative.”

  She snuggled into his side before levering herself up to look at him. He stared down, bruises marring his deadly face. “You were right. Earlier, when I met you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Right?”

  “I, ah, figured I’d find the documents, see if there was a chance, and then be done.”

  His gaze softened. “And now?”

  “Now I want to live. No matter what.” She’d found so much more in this man than she’d ever thought to find. “I love you, Jax.” No matter what happened, she’d hold him tight as long as she could.

  He placed a hand over her glowing blue heart. “All mine, Lynne Harmony. My Blue Heart.”

  Read on for a glimpse of the second stunning book in

  Rebecca Zanetti’s thrilling Scorpius Syndrome series . . .

  Coming soon from

 
; Insanity is merely a matter of perspective.

  —Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony

  The nightmare clawed through Vinnie, ripping and gnashing, until she awoke, her mouth opened in a silent scream.

  Thank God. Finally, she’d been quiet this time. They’d moved her quarters three times because her night terrors scared the hell out of normal people. Now she lived in the bottom far corner of a sparsely populated residence in the center of Vanguard territory.

  She leaped from the bed, her bare feet slapping cold concrete. Her lungs compressed, and tremors shook her legs. She couldn’t breathe. God, she couldn’t breathe.

  Bending over, she planted a hand on her chest.

  Air.

  She needed air.

  Launching into motion, she ran through the dilapidated tenement to the creaky sliding glass door and yanked it open. Rain, cold and drizzly, cascaded inside on a burst of wind. Not noticing the storm or the darkness outside, she pushed through weeds choking torn concrete and stumbled across the muddy earth.

  Sharp rocks and pieces of debris cut into her feet, but she paid no heed. Her feet threw clumps of dirt, and she reached the chain-link fence guarding all seven blocks of Vanguard territory.

  Her fingers curled around the slippery metal near her face, and even in her panic, she remembered not to reach up to the barbed wire.

  Thunder bellowed above, as what was once the City of Angels gave itself over to the short but devastating rainy season. She held tight and lifted her head, allowing the rain to barrage her.

  “You’re early tonight.” A voice, low and masculine, cut through the storm from the other side of the chain link.

  She blinked and stared into the darkness. Several train tracks, abandoned to weeds, stretched in every direction in front of more empty, dark land. “Where are you?” she whispered.

  He came into view, silently like any predator, stepping right up to the fence. “You’re getting wet, Beauty.”