Lynne’s chin rose. She would’ve liked to have been at the meeting, considering her ass was on the line. Her chest ached. “What did Jax decide?”
“He hasn’t decided about the president, I don’t think, but he’s going to lead a mission to Myriad for the records tomorrow morning, which gives us today to plan as well as recuperate a little bit.” Tace stood and winced. “You strong enough to shove a shoulder back into place?”
Breath whooshed from Lynne’s lungs. “Your shoulder is out?”
“Yes. Happened this morning after the meeting when I was training with Sami, and it’s my left one, so I haven’t needed it much.” Tace rubbed his chin with his healthy hand. “I don’t feel pain like I used to.”
“Sit back down.” Lynne hustled toward him, faltering when he sat on a lawn chair. “You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?”
Tace leaned his head back onto the dingy wall. “Yes ma’am. But you did study some anatomy.”
“Sure.” She gingerly reached for his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Jax asked from behind her.
She jumped and whirled around like a teenager caught with a bottle of tequila. “His shoulder is dislocated.”
Jax frowned and crossed the room. He tilted his head to the side and then placed one hand on Tace’s clavicle and the other on his back. “One—” He popped the shoulder back into place.
Tace’s face lost all color. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Jax straightened up and held out a hand for Lynne. “We need to talk.”
She looked down at his hand and then back up at his rugged face. “About what?”
He lifted an eyebrow, his face hard and set.
Her knees wobbled. They didn’t need to hold hands, for goodness sake. Sleeping together was one thing, and public affection another. She’d already been called a whore once that day.
“Lynne,” he said.
Tace’s lips twitched. At least the jackass could feel amusement. At her expense.
She glared at Jax. Fine. It wasn’t as if she could get past him. Straightening her shoulders, she slipped her hand into his as casually as she could. His hand closed, providing instant warmth and a skittering of warning through her belly. She bit her tongue as he led her from the room, across the soup kitchen, and into his war room with the ham radio.
“Where’s Ernie?” she asked.
“Getting tea.” Jax settled her into one of the four chairs in the room. “We’re going to reach out to Greg Lake and the EF today, and I thought you’d want to be here.”
Fear detonated in her stomach, and she tried to stand.
Jax clamped his hands on her shoulders and sat her back down, sinking to his haunches so they were eye to eye. “Take a deep breath and listen to me. I meant what I said last night. I won’t tell them you’re here, but I have to reach out. We need everything from food to medical supplies.”
“So let me go,” she whispered. She could probably survive on her own. Uncle Bruce had taught her well.
“No.” Jax brushed a curl off her cheek. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her temper snapped. “Trust you? You’re about to call the one person in the world who would like to carve me up like a turkey dinner.” She struggled against Jax’s hold, but he didn’t relent. Tears filled her eyes, and she batted back the frustration.
Jax waited until she stopped moving. “You have my vow nothing will harm you.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I have too many enemies here. While you’ll lie for me, they won’t.”
Jax’s face hardened. “They will. I promise.”
Ernie ambled in, a cup of something steaming in his hand. “We ready?”
Lynne swallowed, glaring at Jax.
Jax drew a chair nearer and sat, folding one hand over her thigh. “We’re ready.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
When the prey is as cunning as the hunter . . . the true match begins.
—Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony
Jax tried to keep his hold reassuring, but his hand clamped onto Lynne’s thigh to secure her in the chair. He could’ve called without her there, but it would be better if she heard the entire exchange. Her leg trembled beneath his palm, and his jaw tightened. She was frightened.
Ernie fiddled with dials and every once in a while stopped to speak, to say he was returning the call of the Elite Force. The sixty-year-old former marine had been retired and totally into the ham radio world when Scorpius had descended. Jax had found him wandering the rubble near the Hollywood Walk of Fame months ago.
Thirty minutes passed, and then an hour. Lynne continued to sit, every muscle tense, not looking at Jax. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to find the EF. Maybe Jax had waited too long. A surprising mix of disappointment and relief filled her.
Static echoed over the line.
Jax straightened.
More static, and Ernie leaned forward to twist a dial just a smidge.
“This is Vice President Greg Lake, UT980 near Vegas, calling out.”
Ernie jerked his chin at Jax.
“Thanks, Ernie.” Jax leaned toward the old machine, drawing the microphone toward his mouth. “This is Jax Mercury in Los Angeles.”
“Master Sergeant Jax Mercury, we’ve heard of you,” Lake said, his voice coming through tinny. “Please give your location.”
Lynne tried to rise, and Jax tightened his hold on her leg. “If you’re as good as I hope, you know my location,” Jax returned.
“Master Sergeant Mercury, I am ordering you to give your location,” Lake said evenly.
Jax’s lips twitched. “Well now, Vice President Lake, we have a problem. Because first of all, the army has disbanded. Secondly, and this is the big one, I have no proof or clue you’re who you say you are. Provide proof, and I’ll follow orders.” He covered the mic. “Is there any way for us to know where he is, other than Nevada?”
Ernie shook his head. “Nope—not that I know of, anyway.”
Jax nodded. “If I had troops and was heading west, I’d be in Nevada close to the Hoover Dam.” Rumor had it Las Vegas still had electricity. “If they manage to keep the dam going, all electricity won’t be done forever.” The rest of the country had lost electricity when power plants had shut down for various reasons, all stemming from there not being enough trained people to keep them running properly. Although, before Scorpius, only about five thousand people had the knowledge to keep a dam running. How many of them had survived? Probably not enough.
Lake cleared his throat. “Unless we meet, there’s not much proof I can offer.”
“Copy that. How about we meet at the California and Nevada border the day after next at fifteen hundred hours?”
“We could meet tomorrow,” Lake said.
Jax shook his head. “I require more time. The first I can meet is the day after next.”
Lynne frowned.
Jax leaned toward her ear to whisper. “I want the info from Myriad in my hands before I meet with the president or any sitting government.”
She nodded, her body still trembling.
Lake sighed. “Affirmative. I will speak with the president and get back to you with a more specific location.”
“Who is the president?” Jax asked, wincing as Lynne stiffened even more.
“Bret Atherton,” Lake replied. “Do we have a plan?”
“Affirmative.” Jax sat back. “Where are you?”
Quiet reigned for a few minutes as Lake probably spoke to his group. “Close by.”
Jax frowned. “Do you have any air support?”
“Negative.”
What Jax wouldn’t give for a crop duster or two. “What type of force have you been able to mount?”
Static crackled over the line. “We’ll update in person. Do you have any intel on the location of Lynne Harmony? Our sources say she was heading to Los Angeles.”
“Negative. If Blue Heart was in L.A., I’d know about it. At least by rumor.” Jax ignor
ed the tightness of Lynne’s body. If she didn’t breathe soon, she was going to pass out. He patted her leg.
“How many do you have in your force?” Lake asked.
“We’ll update in person.” Jax repeated Lake’s hedging.
“Fair enough. Let me remind you, Master Sergeant Mercury, you are still a United States soldier under orders.”
Hell. Could he be considered a deserter? Probably. Jax leaned forward. “Actually, I’m not sure there’s still a United States. Are you?”
“There is, and you’re still a soldier,” Lake shot back.
“Not if there isn’t a country or service,” Jax said. “For all I know, you could be the leader of yet another renegade group out to steal my meager resources, and I have to tell you, if that’s the case, you’re gonna be disappointed.”
“Because you’ve amassed such a strong fighting force?” Lake asked.
Jax snorted. “No. Because we don’t have shit for supplies, food, or trained people. We’re a group of civilians barely making it, Lake. So if you’re looking for loot, go elsewhere.”
“We’ll see.”
Jax cleared his throat. “Tell me about the Elite Force as well as the Brigade.”
“The Elite Force is mission specific and answers directly to the president. The Brigade is still our first line of defense right now, and it is part of the United States government,” Lake said.
Did the guy sound defensive? “Where’s McDougall?” Jax asked.
“McDougall is leading the Brigade, and right now he’s securing nuclear plants before they are taken over or, worse, melt down.”
Jax winced. Was Lake lying? “I’d like to meet him.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Lake signing out.”
Jax had Ernie cut the line.
Ernie turned, his double chin wobbling. “That’s too bad. About air support.”
“If he’s telling the truth.” Jax released Lynne’s leg. “In the last six months we’ve lost billions of people, and in the riots, many of our airports and bases were bombed or destroyed by crazy-assed Rippers or home-grown terrorists who wanted to take us down and saw an opportunity. But if Lake has managed to put together a security force, somebody has to be able to fly a damn plane.” It was unthinkable that every plane or helicopter had been destroyed. Of course, the lack of fuel might make it impossible to put birds in the air. When Scorpius had hit the world, the flow of fuel had stopped.
“He didn’t believe you,” Lynne said woodenly.
“It’s his job, if he’s who he says he is, to doubt me,” Jax said.
Ernie cleared his throat.
Jax lifted an eyebrow. “You got something to say?”
Ernie rubbed his white beard. “Last time Lake said Lynne was a carrier of a new disease. I figured that was untrue and a way to scare folks into turning her in. She hasn’t infected anybody new here, so that’s probably right.”
Lynne tilted her head. “You want me to reassure you?”
Ernie squinted faded blue eyes. “I wouldn’t mind.”
She breathed out, and her body finally relaxed. “There’s no new strain or illness, I promise. They want me for personal reasons.”
Multiple lines fanned out from Ernie’s eyes and deepened when he frowned. “Personal?”
“Ripper, serial killer, obsession,” Lynne said wearily.
“Oh.” Ernie nodded.
Jax shook his head. Jesus. What kind of a world were they living in where that series of words explained everything? “Thanks for keeping quiet, Ernie.”
The older man straightened. “I fought in ’Nam, Jax. We’re on the same side, and you’re our commander, government or not. I can follow orders and keep a secret.”
“You’re a good man.” Jax stood and tugged Lynne to her feet. “Tomorrow at dawn, we’re going on a mission to get more information on a possible cure. I’ll go meet Lake the following day. Until then, please keep this under your hat.”
“Understood.” Ernie turned back to his dials.
Lynne swallowed and stumbled as Jax drew her from the room. He glanced down at her. “Take today to get your strength back. How do you feel about going on the mission to Myriad tomorrow morning?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Why? Because you don’t trust me to stay here, or because you want my help at Myriad?”
Both, actually. Jax glanced down at her weary green eyes, and something softened deep inside him. “Maybe I just want you with me.” Oddly enough, that too was true.
President Bret Atherton waited until the ham radio operator packed up and left the office before lifting an eyebrow. “Waiting until the day after next gives us time to prepare for the meeting. What do you think about Mercury?”
Lake rubbed a hand across his razor-sharp buzz cut. “I think Mercury is lying about the forces he’s amassed. He took over a food distribution center immediately, so he probably also raided anywhere he could find weapons at the same time. He’s smart and he’s strong, and he would’ve been training people from day one to fight.”
Bret nodded. “Do you think he’s a Scorpius survivor?”
“There’s no indication he was ever infected,” Lake said.
Yet instinct roiled in Bret’s gut. To move that quickly and become such a legend in a short amount of time spoke of a higher intelligence, one Bret believed came to a fortunate few who survived the bacteria. “I read his military record, and before Scorpius, he was impressive.”
“Delta Force members usually are,” Lake responded dryly. “Lynne Harmony is a smart woman, and she was well aware of Mercury’s reputation. No way would she seek him out unless she had something to barter with him. In that scenario, his protection, especially from our forces, would be appealing to her.”
Bret blew out air. “Lynne has always played it safe. My guess is that she avoided L.A. and the rioting gangs there, unless she discovered that Myriad is in L.A.” Which is more than he’d known. Why Vivienne wouldn’t just tell Bret what he wanted to know was beyond him. As a psychic, surely the woman could tap into the universe or whatever the hell they tapped and give him the information.
“Even so, sir, I’d like to follow up on this lead. Send an Elite Force scouting team to L.A. to just observe Mercury’s forces.” Lake remained at attention.
Bret blinked. He’d had a dream the night before of Lake saying those very words. Perhaps his brain was still evolving and he’d be psychic soon, too. His instincts started to hum, and his parietal lobe tickled. “No. Let’s wait until we have more information before you leave on a mission.”
Lake didn’t move. “Understood. I just sent out two contingents of six men—one to Boise to confiscate the weapons of the militia gathering there, and the other to a newly discovered lab in Wyoming. That leaves only thirteen men here, and I would prefer to cover your back.”
“Agreed, although let’s keep our ears to the ground. Perhaps your thought about Lynne being with Mercury is on track. I mean, even if she didn’t seek asylum, his men might’ve found her and taken her in.”
Lake’s face twitched in a slight frown. “The intel on Mercury’s group is that women are protected and not used or bartered for.”
Bret rolled his eyes. “Propaganda, I’m sure. Smart, too.” He played with the USB drive on the black cord around his neck. Lynne’s USB drive.
“Yes, sir. I’ll scout the best place to meet Mercury so we have time to secure the area, and I’ll give him instructions that only allow for enough time for him to arrive.”
“Good.”
Lake’s shoulders somehow went back even farther. “The men have finished emptying the water truck.” His tone remained level, but Bret could sense the disapproval.
“The water is important to me, and it’s the last time I’ll use such resources.” Bret had ordered his men to find a water truck, which they had, and then fill it from one of the indoor pools in the casinos, so nobody could drink the water, anyway. The usage of the gas alone had made Lake tense all day. “Trust me. I need t
he pool filled for Lynne.” His back stiffened. Hell, he was the president of the United States and didn’t need to explain himself to anybody.
“Yes, sir.”
“Excused.”
Lake pivoted and left the room.
Bret eyed the set of syringes and vials on his desk, wondering if Vivienne could take any more. So far, no matter what he’d pumped into her blood, she hadn’t given up Lynne’s location. Whistling, he filled a vial with what Lake had assured him was a potent truth serum and strode from the room. So far, the stuff hadn’t done anything but make Vivienne goofy.
He hummed and kept hold of both the syringe and the lantern as he walked into the room. Vivienne sat, shackled to the wall, mumbling.
Damn it.
Bret walked to her and kicked her ankle.
She giggled, spit sliding from her mouth. “You’re such a dork.”
He grimaced. Hell. He glanced at the syringe in his hand. Well, he couldn’t waste it. Crouching, he slid the needle into her exposed arm and pressed the plunger.
She gasped, and her chest filled with air.
He slapped her face. “Tell me the truth about Lynne.”
“You’re gonna die soon.” Vivienne’s head lowered, and she sang the words. “I am psychic and I know that to be true.”
He grimaced. “You stink.” When was the last time he’d allowed her to shower? Of course there was no running water, but they kept barrels in the garage. Soon they’d be out of water and would need to leave the desert.
Her head lagged, and she began to sing a Garth Brooks song an octave too high.
He sighed. “Where’s the Bunker?”
She stopped singing. “Under the ground, of course.”
His heartbeat picked up. “Where?”
She opened her mouth and started singing “Jingle Bells.”
Damn it. Drawing a key from his back pocket, he unlocked the shackle around her leg and jerked her over his shoulder.
She protested with an oomph, her legs dangling uselessly against his chest. He easily stood and stalked out of the small storage room. How much did she weigh, anyway? He hadn’t kept close track of feeding her, but she felt like a bag of bones. Another country song, one he thought was by Trisha Yearwood, mumbled from Vivienne’s lips as he crossed through the guest house to the sunlit yard outside.
Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1) Page 23
