She'd heard that some Ebola survivors had different colored eyes afterward. “Um, okay.”
He moved all the way out into the hallway, towering over her. “You all right? Any problems?”
She shook her head. A too short time ago, she and Vivienne Wellington had been kidnapped from Greyson and his Merc territory by the psychopathic President Atherton and his equally nutty vice president. That guy seemed even worse, somehow. The rescue had been bloody, but finally her bruises were gone. “No lasting damage.” Not physically, anyway. The nightmares were another story.
“All right. What can I do for you, darlin'?” Tace asked quietly.
She drew in air. Could she just offer to help organize the clinic and then find what she wanted? Probably not. Crap. Okay. This was just in her imagination, anyway. “I'm having, well, a possible, well, you know…”
“Female issue?” he asked, his brows drawing down.
If you could call it that. “Um, yeah.” She shuffled her feet, parts of her body on fire. The embarrassing parts.
He scrubbed his broad hand through his scruffy chin. “Dr. Penelope?” he called out.
A small woman moved out of a far office. Long, black hair, pretty Asian features, small hands. “Yes?” She studied them with serious and dark eyes.
“You up to acting like a doctor?” Tace asked, his gaze remaining on Moe.
“I am a doctor,” Penelope said quietly. “Hi, ah, Maureen? I think we met a few days ago over unbaked bagels?”
Moe nodded. Penelope hadn't mentioned she was a doctor, but they hadn't really talked much. “Yes. You're a doctor?”
“I am.” Penelope looked around the quiet area. “This is my first day.”
At the words, another man moved out of the back room. Tall and broad and huge with no expression on his rugged face.
Maureen barely kept from taking a step back.
“This is Marcus Knight,” Penelope said quietly. “He's Jax Mercury's half-brother.”
Yeah, the guy kind of looked like Jax. Somehow bigger and, well, emptier. “Hi,” Moe said.
He just looked at her, his eyes more green than brown, his stance wide.
She swallowed.
Penelope gestured toward an examination room. “How about we chat in here?” She waited for Maureen to nod and walk toward her, entering a sparsely furnished room. Old and torn examination table, old and torn doctor stool, old and torn orange counter.
Penelope followed, pausing to turn and press a hand to Marcus's chest. “You can't come in, M. Maybe go for a walk outside and get some air?”
Next to the hulking Mercury, Penelope looked beyond petite to downright fragile.
Marcus's gaze flicked over her head to Maureen, threat clear in his eyes before he turned and stepped away from the door, putting his back to the other wall and his front facing them.
Penelope sighed and shut the door.
Moe inched toward the table and hopped. “Um, I've heard rumors about him.” Apparently the government had experimented on him, and now he wouldn't leave Penelope's side. Ever. “Dr. Penelope? Are you safe?”
“You can drop the doctor part. That's just what folks have taken to calling me. You can call me Penelope if you'd like.” The doctor turned and smiled. “I'm perfectly safe.” Her face was calm, but turmoil filled her dark eyes. “Now. What can I do for you?”
Heat filled Moe's face. “God. I…”
Penelope set her clipboard on the counter. “It's okay, Maureen. Whatever you tell me is protected. I'm a doctor, and I was one before Scorpius. What's going on?”
“I, ah, think I might've caught something,” Moe whispered, a tremble going through her. Nausea filled her stomach. “I mean, sexually.”
Penelope's eyebrows raised. “Okay. What about your partner? Did you ask him or her if they have something or are experiencing symptoms?”
Moe shifted on the torn leather. “I don't know. He's not here.” She'd kill Greyson. Absolutely kill him if he'd given her something. What the hell had she been thinking?
Penelope's face cleared. “You were captured by the Mercs, right?” Her voice was calm and soothing.
Moe nodded.
“Honey? Were you raped?” Penelope asked gently.
Moe closed her eyes and then reopened them. “No,” she said honestly. “I really wasn't.” She rubbed her hands down her jeans. “I mean, I was seriously drunk on really good bourbon they'd found earlier that week.”
Penelope's lips tightened. “Then it was rape.”
Moe winced. “No. He was drunker than I was, and he had a concussion that I found out about the next day. The same day I was kidnapped by the president.” She sighed and scrubbed her hands down her face. “Honestly, it was so stupid. I don't know what I was thinking.” Except that her body was warm and Greyson Storm was beyond sexy and dangerous. “I've always been drawn to fire,” she murmured, shaking her head, shame filling her. “Seriously. It was my first one-night stand, and he apologized the next morning.”
Penelope winced. “He apologized?”
“Yeah,” Moe said, her shoulders slumping. “Said he had no right to take advantage since we were so drunk. But…” Her voice lowered. “I, ah, came on to him. Sure, I was intoxicated, but he actually said no first.” God, she deserved whatever happened to her. “I'm a slut.”
Penelope coughed. “Honey, you're not a slut. Not at all. You can sleep with whomever you want, and there's no judgment. But now you think you might have an infection?”
Maureen nodded, tears filling her eyes. She'd slept with a guy she barely knew. And he'd taken off a necklace with a ring on it when he'd gotten them both naked. Whose ring was it? Had Greyson lost a woman? If so, why did that hurt? Geez. And now, she had a problem. There weren't any antibiotics. “I'll be the first person to die from the clap post-Scorpius,” she muttered.
Penelope snorted and reached for some rubber gloves from a drawer to put on. “Well, let's take a look.”
God. Moe shoved off her jeans and lay back on the table. “I don't suppose we have those old cloth cover-ups the OBGYNs used to have?”
“Nope.” Penelope sat and rolled closer, a lantern in her hand.
The lamp warmed Moe's tender parts.
“Hmm,” Penelope said, prodding her.
Moe hissed. “We used a condom. I just don't get it.”
Penelope took a sample and put it on a slide, backing away. “You can get dressed.”
Moe jumped down and yanked on her jeans. “Well? Is it crabs or something?”
Penelope set the slide on the table. “I don't think so. I need a urine sample before you go.”
Moe tried really hard not to scratch her private parts. It was excruciating. “Okay. Can you even run tests? I mean, what can you do?”
Penelope pulled off the gloves. “We have some tests from the labs and pharmacies Vanguard raided early on. I think you just have a regular old yeast infection, to be honest. But come back in an hour after leaving me the sample.”
Moe swayed. “It might not be a venereal disease?”
“Nope. But I'll know for sure in about an hour,” Penelope said.
Moe nodded and opened the door to see Marcus waiting right where they'd left him. Heat slashed into her face, but she turned and all but ran for the outside outhouses to pee in a cup. God, please let it be just a yeast infection. Like most women, she'd had more than one through the years.
Bright sun shone down as she quickly did her business and returned to the clinic. This time, Marcus blocked her way.
She blinked. “I have to give this to Penelope.”
“I will,” he said, his voice gritty.
She was not giving her pee to this guy. “No. It's between my doctor and me. Move, Marcus.” There was no way she could get him out of her way if she wanted.
He growled and launched toward her. Panic rushed through her, and she took a step back.
“Marcus!” Penelope snapped, walking out of the examination room.
He stoppe
d cold.
“Let her pass,” Penelope ordered.
Without pause, Marcus pivoted, putting his back to the wall and allowing her by. He was at least a foot taller than she, and his very presence was a threat.
Maureen inched by him, holding her breath. The guy was seriously nuts.
“I'm sorry,” Penelope said, her eyes soft. “We're trying to work through some issues.”
No kidding. Moe handed over the plastic cup. “I'll go, ah, grab something to eat next door.” Yeah, she might be running away from the scary guy. She headed into the former soup kitchen to see pretzels and what looked like a slow cooker containing soup along the far counter.
Tables were spread throughout. All sorts of tables. Picnic tables, game tables, card tables…and most were empty.
She made a move for the soup, noting it was still warm. The slow cooker didn't plug into anything, but it was nice that it still held the heat. She ladled some noodles and broth into a chipped toddler bowl with Star Wars on it. Making her way over to a picnic table, she moved so her jeans kind of scratched her hoo hoo.
God, how embarrassing.
She ate by herself for a while, mentally counting seconds and minutes in her head. What if it was just a yeast infection? She counted at least forty-five minutes but couldn't relax.
Did they even have medicine for that? If not, how did anybody survive a yeast infection? It itched so damn bad.
The back sliding door opened, and her brother stalked inside. He loped easily, a holstered gun strapped to his thigh.
She leaned back to watch him.
Raze had always been larger than life. Big and strong and fierce. When their father died, he'd become the man of the family at ten years old. And when their mother died only a few years later, he'd taken over in that area, as well. His long, black hair was tied at the nape, and his blue eyes softened with his smile as he caught sight of her. He'd inherited their father's Native American features, while she looked more like their Irish mother.
She smiled back.
Her dad and her brother were soldiers, and she admired them. Loved them. But her romantic type was geeky and next to a computer, and that was fine with her. There was nothing nerdy about Greyson, so he couldn't be right for her. Not a chance. And he'd better not have given her the clap.
Raze reached her, his wide chest blocking out the light from the back doors. “Hey. What are you up to?”
Waiting to find out if she had a sex disease? “Nothing much. Just having soup.”
“Good. We sent scouts up north to check out the farming areas you wanted information on. They'll report back in a few days,” Raze said.
Excellent. That information was vital. She cleared her throat. “I found out earlier from scouts that Greyson Storm is coming this way from the Bunker later this week. He sent notice so we don't just shoot him.”
Raze stretched his neck. “The Bunker is as much ours as Greyson's. If he doesn't let us back in, then we will shoot his ass.”
Moe swallowed. The president had recently attacked Vanguard headquarters, and all the Vanguard soldiers had left the Bunker in Century City for the Mercs to protect. Now the Mercs controlled it. The government had created the place before Scorpius, and it had the best medical supplies and labs of anywhere right now. “We'll get back into the Bunker.” They had to.
Raze shrugged.
She took a sip of soup, looking for the right words. “We made a deal with Greyson so he’d help us take the Bunker, Raze. If he helped, which he did so we took over the place, we agreed I’d go to Merc territory. Temporarily.” She had to see if there were any resources in the greenhouses. And if he'd given her a venereal disease, she had to fucking kill him.
Raze's eyes lost their softness. “No.”
Man. God save her from overprotective and stubborn men. “He was kind to me when I was there. Didn't let anybody even so much as give me a mean look. We need allies, brother. You know it.”
“I know.” He leaned down and pressed a quick peck to her forehead. “But my baby sister ain't leaving Vanguard territory.” He glanced at his watch and straightened. “I'll meet you later for dinner.” Then he turned and strode away.
She sighed. Apparently she had a few days to get him on board with her plan and remind him that she was an adult. She was going no matter what, but it'd be nice if Raze wasn't all cranky about it.
Movement caught her attention from the clinic doorway, and Marcus strode toward her, graceful and predatory.
Her knees went weak.
He reached her, turning so his gaze was also on the door he'd just left. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Penny said to come get you.” His body vibrated, and he leaned toward the door as if something pulled him back. “Come.”
She pushed away from the table, gut feeling whispering that he'd grab her and run back if she didn't hurry. So she hustled, her body aching, her chest full. What was wrong with her?
Reaching the old clinic, she jogged around the reception area and headed right back into the same examination room.
Penelope was waiting. “Please shut the door, Marcus.”
Moe jumped. The guy was right behind her. He closed the door, cutting off his appraising look and hulking threat. “Well?” Moe asked, wringing her hands.
Penelope handed over a square box. “You merely have a very minor yeast infection.”
Relief flowed through Moe so quickly, her knees nearly buckled. She reached out and pressed a hand to the wall for balance. “Thank God. So it had nothing to do with drunken sex and Greyson.” She definitely owed him a mental apology.
“Eh.” Penelope lifted a very slender shoulder. “My guess is that the condom you used was inferior rubber, and you reacted poorly to it. So it got you all irritated, your system ended up out of whack, and you ended up with a slight yeast infection.”
Thank God it wasn't more serious. Moe looked down at the box. “We have medicine.”
“Yep. Three-day fix,” Penelope said, her dark eyes sober. “There haven't been many yeast infections yet.”
“Lucky me,” Moe said, straightened. “Hey. Thank you for everything.”
Penelope swallowed. “Um, there's more.”
Maureen blinked. “More? Than a yeast infection?”
Penelope nodded. “Yes. Well, I'm still a doctor, and you know. We do all the tests. We just do.”
Maureen stopped breathing. “What else is wrong with me?”
Penelope moved toward her, taking her hand. “Nothing is wrong. But, well…you need to know. With the inferior condom and everything. You're pregnant.”
Chapter Seven
I met a girl, kidnapped her, let her go, and now need her help. I think you'd be greatly amused by this, Miss J.
—Greyson Storm, Letters to Miss Julian
Burned-out car carcasses lined the side of the 405 as the sun beat down on their brand-spanking-new Humvee. They'd taken it from the Bunker. Truth be told, the thing drove like a dream. Greyson slowed down and swerved around what looked like empty bookcases. Must've fallen off a truck or two. “If you see anything worth raiding, let me know.”
Damon nodded from the passenger seat, his gaze out the window, looking at hollowed-out buildings flying by on the interstate. “We could hit a business or two, but who the hell knows what's waiting down there.”
“We'll come back with a force when we get the chance,” Grey said, sliding his necklace to the left beneath his shirt. The ring offered comfort, like always. Miss J had given it to him before he'd left to enter the military, and he always kept it with him. A wolf bayed in the distance. He shook his head, and a chill skittered down his back. “Wolves in LA. Seriously?”
“Keep an eye out for human predators. A gang caught one of our teams last month by blocking off the entire interstate,” Damon said.
Gangs would always be a problem. Always had been, and even after the pandemic, always would be. Greyson nodded. “Understood.” He ran through the security measures of the Bunker, the
place they'd just left. “We need more men, Damon.”
“I know. Of course, you could call back the many scouts you have out looking for Zach Barter,” Damon said quietly.
“Not an option.” Greyson would give up leading the Mercs before he'd give up his hunt.
Damon stiffened and reared up to watch a group of people on the side of the interstate picking through abandoned vehicles. They didn't even look up. “We could recruit more soldiers, or we could consider aligning with Vanguard.”
“I guess that depends on what happens next.” Grey rolled his shoulders, his hands easy on the steering wheel.
Damon shifted his gun to his other thigh. “They might just shoot us when we arrive in Los Angeles, you know.”
“Then they won't get access to the Bunker or any of our resources,” Grey said. “And we'll take more than a couple of them out first.” He didn't want to kill anybody at Vanguard. Didn't mean he wouldn't.
“The Bunker is worth killing over.” The place was one of several underground facilities created by the government in preparation for a pandemic. There was food, water, propane, and actual working computers there. Good generators. Plus, there had to be information leading to the other Bunkers somewhere in there. “I like that we control the place, though.”
Grey nodded. His men and the Vanguard soldiers had taken the facility, but then Vanguard had to run home because they were under attack. Now only Greyson and the Mercs controlled the Bunker. “I'll give them access if they adhere to the agreement.” He needed to get Maureen back into his territory. It seemed empty and dark without her, and he didn't want to think too deeply about that.
Damon shrugged and drank an entire bottle of water, his dark throat moving. “Well, they're good allies to have. Maybe.”
Yeah. That summed up life at the moment. “Jax Mercury would cut off our heads if it meant more resources for Vanguard,” Grey mused. “Not that I wouldn't do the same to him.”
“Yep.” Damon pulled an arm across his chest, stretching powerful biceps.
Grey scratched his chin. “We don't have a computer expert. Not one as good as theirs.” Greyson’s guys hadn't been able to figure out the computer system like Sami Steel could. The woman was brilliant and some type of former hacker.
Storm Gathering: Scorpius Syndrome Book 4 Page 5
