Storm Gathering: Scorpius Syndrome Book 4

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She paled. “You know, I think I'll go grab something to eat.” A cute frown drew her eyebrows down. “Unless I'm required on the roof? Damon?”

  Damon shook his head. “No. Just need Greyson.”

  Must be something in the distance to see. Grey leaned over and pressed a kiss to Moe's forehead. “Go eat something. I'll be back down in a second.” Well, minutes. She nodded and headed off for the stairs to the cafeteria, while he turned and followed Damon into the stairwell. “Tell me what's going on.”

  Damon started jogging, his steps fluid and graceful. “Oh, not a chance. You're gonna want to see this in full.”

  Grey increased his speed. Why did Damon have to be so damn dramatic all the time?

  “You're lucky I'm the one who knocked on Moe's door,” Damon muttered, his breathing still easy, even though they'd just passed the ninth floor. “When Shadow finds out, he's going to try and rip your head off.”

  “I'm well aware,” Grey said, passing the eleventh-floor landing and nodding at one of his guards. Since he had no plans of leaving Maureen at Vanguard ever, then Shadow would just have to get on board at some point. If they had to beat the crap out of each other on a regular basis for that to happen, then so be it.

  They passed the twenty-fifth floor and another guard.

  “You jog up buildings before?” Damon asked, panting a little now. “As a sniper?”

  Grey shook his head. “Most of my work was in the field—not so urban.” Most of it. He didn't need to talk about any of it.

  Finally, they reached the thirty-second floor, and Damon shoved open the door to the roof.

  Greyson walked out into full sun. Jax and Raze stood in the far right corner, which was covered in gravel and bird droppings. Grey made it halfway toward them when the sky in the distance caught his eye. Fuck. “Smoke,” he muttered.

  Damon nodded. “Yeah. We have a problem.”

  He hustled to the Vanguard men, and Jax handed over a pair of binoculars while Raze kept looking through his.

  “Welcome to fire season,” Jax said somberly.

  Greyson accepted the binoculars and looked northwest. “Shit.” Brownish yellow smoke spiraled high into the sky toward the Santa Barbara area. He looked carefully, calculating. His body stiffened.

  “Yeah,” Jax said softly. “That.”

  Grey lowered the binoculars and studied the Vanguard leader. A toxic dose of fury dumped through his veins. This was fucking wrong. So wrong. “I can see five individual fires going.”

  “I saw four,” Jax said.

  Damn it. Fear for losing what he'd built, what he'd protected, tasted like acid in his mouth. “You think somebody set those.” The president? Or a psychotic Scorpius-surviving firebug?

  “Don't you?” Jax asked softly.

  “We knew fire season was coming,” Grey said, glancing at Damon. “But no. Five individual fires that will soon combine, all set around the same time without a summer storm and lightning? That's not a coincidence.” He was going to kill somebody.

  “Do you have any contingency plans in place for this?” Jax asked.

  Damon threw out his arms. “We planned to have everyone jump into the ocean and hold their breath.”

  Greyson controlled his breathing to try and mellow the rage building in his body. “We don't have a plan. California always has fires, and we're right on the coast.”

  Damon shook his head. “There's nobody to stop the spread now. Plus, there haven't been counter measures taken for nearly a year. Nobody has cleaned up brush, dug trenches, or prepared for fire season like before Scorpius.”

  More importantly, nature had grown wherever it wanted. “We're vulnerable,” Grey agreed.

  Raze finally lowered his binoculars. “I think the Mercs were targeted, based on where the fires have originated. Just a guess, though.”

  Sure looked that way. “We have enough enemies that I'm not going to stop and wonder who,” Greyson muttered.

  “It's the president,” Raze said shortly.

  “Right now, I don't give a shit,” Greyson retorted, turning to face Damon. “Leave ten men here to secure Maureen, and the rest of us need to be ready to go in thirty minutes.”

  Raze stiffened. “Secure Maureen? Not your job, asshole.”

  Grey ignored him. “Damon, is there anything here that will help fight the fire?”

  “Just shovels,” Damon said grimly. “We haven't catalogued anything else here that would remotely help.”

  “You'll need to consolidate land and protect what's most important,” Jax said. “If the fire reaches you.”

  Grey nodded, already making plans. “Let's move.”

  “With Vanguard still being repaired, I can't spare anybody to help,” Jax said, loping into a jog next to him.

  “I know,” Greyson said, yanking open the door the stairwell.

  Would they make it in time?

  * * *

  Maureen finished munching on a hard granola bar and wandered through the cafeteria, which was mainly empty since it was two in the afternoon. The white plastic tables all matched, and running refrigerators, still on generators, held goodies below a long-running counter. The food at the Bunker was pretty good, but it wouldn't last. Nothing canned would.

  She glanced down at her mismatched socks on the pristine white tiles. Oops. She'd been rather out of it when Damon interrupted them. Greyson sure knew how to wake a girl up. A soft smile curved her lips.

  Why the heck had Damon wanted him on the roof? Hopefully they'd be back soon, but she just hadn't wanted to climb that many stairs. She yawned and shoved her unruly hair away from her face.

  Man, she'd better get in a shower and wake up before going to work. Matching socks would help also.

  “Maureen?” Her brother asked, coming around the corner abreast with Jax.

  She stumbled and then righted herself.

  He lowered his chin, looking her over. His blue eyes lasered through the fluorescent glow from the lights, and in a faded T-shirt and jeans with his gun at his thigh, he looked large and formidable. “Are you okay?”

  Gulping the rest of her granola bar down, she nodded. “Just having trouble waking up.” Her face heated, and she felt like she was sixteen again caught breaking curfew.

  Greyson came into view alongside Damon. “I thought you were going back to sleep,” Grey said.

  Her eyes widened. He did not.

  Raze pivoted. “Excuse me?”

  Oh, crap. Seriously. This wasn't going to be good. “Raze—” she started.

  He grasped Greyson by the shirt and hauled him close. “What do you mean, back to sleep?”

  Greyson sighed, shoved both arms up, and broke the hold. “We don't have time for this.” He pushed Raze lightly to the side and faced her. “Damon and I have to head back to Merc territory to deal with a possible forest fire situation, but I'm leaving guards here so you'll be safe. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  Raze shook his head, his brows slashing down and creating hard angles in his face. “She doesn't care when you'll be back.”

  Man, she was so not ready for this talk. “Raze, why don't you have a seat?”

  Her brother looked at her, looked at Greyson, and then looked back at her. “Why?” His voice was a low rumble.

  Grey shook his head. “Now isn't the time, darlin'. I have to go. We can talk to him together later.”

  “Darlin’? Oh, hell no,” Raze said. “Not a chance. There is no ‘we.’”

  Well, this would not go well, but she didn't keep secrets from her brother, and the words had to be said. “Greyson and I, ah, we've been together.” She forced a smile, but her lips trembled just a little. “You'd probably like him if you got to know him.”

  Sometimes she forgot how quickly her brother could move. He barely turned and somehow tackled Greyson onto the nearest table. Although sturdy, it was no match for the size of the two men, and they plunged to the floor, plastic pieces spinning in every direction, the sound deafening. Greyson instantl
y punched Raze in the face and kicked him away.

  Raze came back swinging.

  “Hey!” Maureen cried out, moving for them.

  Damon and Jax were instantly in her way, all but herding her backward.

  “Not a good idea,” Jax said grimly, his body unrelenting.

  Damon nodded. “Agreed. You need to stay clear. Might get hurt.”

  All she could hear were furious hits and grunts. Something else shattered. She couldn't even see beyond the duo that was suddenly working against her. Damn it. Backing up, she climbed on a chair and then the table, seeing over their heads.

  Greyson and her brother rolled over on shards of plastic, punching each other rapidly.

  “Stop it!” She yelled. “For goodness sakes. I'm pregnant, damn it.”

  Everybody froze. Raze's fist was an inch from Greyson's nose, and Grey's knee was about to make contact with Raze's ribs. Damon and Jax stared at her with similarly shocked gazes. Jax was obviously surprised she was knocked up, while Damon probably thought she was a moron for yelling the news in the cafeteria.

  Greyson and Raze rolled in different directions, both coming up on their feet impressively fast.

  Raze looked at her, and his chin lowered. “He forced you.”

  She winced. “I actually came on to him.”

  “You did not,” Greyson countered. “That's not true.”

  “It's totally true,” she said. “You said no. That it was a bad idea.” She shrugged. “I thought it was a good idea, but I didn't expect, well, you know. A baby.”

  Raze staggered back. “There haven't been any live births from Scorpius survivors.”

  Grey twisted and punched him in the arm. “She's aware of that. God. Don't scare her.”

  Raze shook his head like a dog with a face full of water. “Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. This happened last time you were in Merc territory? When he kidnapped you for the first time?”

  She nodded and held up a hand to halt the ensuing violence. “Yes, but it wasn't Stockholm syndrome or anything crazy. I had some bourbon, he had a lot of bourbon and a concussion, and things just happened.” The room started to tilt a little, so she locked her legs to keep from falling. “Then it kept happening.”

  “I'm going to kill you,” Raze grunted at Greyson.

  Grey sighed. “Fine. Just wait until I take care of the threat to Santa Barbara.” He moved to her, his gaze going alert. “Maureen?”

  Darn it. The room tilted more. Before she could explain, her legs gave out completely.

  He caught her easily, swinging her up. “Moe?”

  She blinked rapidly, her stomach rioting. “It's okay,” she muttered. “Just a little morning sickness.” Her stomach revolted. She gasped in air and tried to swallow down the bile. But her stomach lurched, and she puked her granola bar and orange juice all over his chest. He twisted his head to keep it from hitting his face.

  Raze barked out a laugh. “This might be okay.”

  She tried to glare at him and then threw up some more, her body heaving.

  Greyson sighed. “I'll go get changed. Meet me in the garage in ten, Damon.” Ignoring everybody else, he carried a very embarrassed Maureen out of the cafeteria and away from the other men. “We'll get you some ginger ale, sweetheart. It'll be okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  My best friend is spinning out of control, and he doesn't know it. The guy is driven by multiple motivations, and they're in conflict. There can only be one path. I hope he finds it before he gets himself killed. Guess it's my job to make sure that doesn't happen.

  Damon Winter—Journal because everyone says I have to keep one to record history

  “That went better than I expected,” Damon said from the passenger side of the Humvee, his gun resting on his knee. “I figured at least one of you would've ended up with something broken. Or maimed for life.”

  Grey drove carefully out of Century City and onto the interstate, keeping an eye out for any sort of roadblock. His split lip ached, as did his bruised ribs. “There's still time. Shadow was just in shock.”

  “I don't have a sister, but if I did, I would've gone for blood in that situation.”

  Grey nodded. “Me too.”

  “It’d probably help if you had some sort of promise of the future to make, you know?” Damon asked, stiffening at seeing a car burning over on the shoulder of the road. “Somebody around here’s building fires. Interesting.”

  Grey didn't answer. Future? What kind of future could he offer her? Vanguard wasn't safe, Merc territory was facing danger, and the Bunker was temporary. But he had resources, and he'd use them all for her. “We need some time to settle into this.” He had to find the other Bunkers, the ones with more research on Scorpius to save the baby. “Figure things out.”

  “What's there to figure out?” Damon asked. “You want the baby, right?”

  “Yeah.” More than he had the words to explain. A little boy with Maureen's blue eyes and her curly hair. Or a girl, God help him, with Moe's spirit and intelligence. “I never thought, even before Scorpius, that I'd have a kid. Figured I wouldn't make it back from mission at some point.”

  Damon nodded. “Yeah, I get that. There were times I was the first in the door, and I expected it'd be my last time. Bringing a woman and a kid into that seemed unfair to them.”

  Grey cut him a look. “You ever come close to tying yourself down?”

  Damon smiled, his eyes softening. “Once. Another cop, crazy as that sounds. Her name was Violet, and she was vice. Tough as nails with a body that could stop traffic. Smart as hell, too. Figured people out within seconds.” He sighed. “We tried on again, off again, and the job always got in the way. For both of us.”

  Grey slowed down to drive around what looked like bear pelts. “That's too bad.”

  “Yeah, and then she went and married a defense attorney. Slick guy with power suits.” Damon shook his head. “Always figured she saw something in him I never did. But I was glad she was happy. Until Scorpius.”

  The bacteria had ended happiness for everybody. “I would've liked to have met her. She sounds interesting.”

  “What about you? Any former loves?” Damon asked.

  Grey winced. “I dated around quite a bit, but I was always leaving on the next mission. There was a nurse I saw for a while, but she found somebody better for her. Somebody who was there day in and out. I was glad for her.” He glanced at his buddy. “I didn't lose anybody else. Not really.” Not like Damon. He'd lost his dad and his three brothers to the pandemic. It was amazing the guy could still smile.

  Damon nodded and then stiffened.

  “What?” Grey asked.

  “Not sure.”

  Something tickled the back of Grey's neck. A trolley bus from San Francisco was next to an army truck on the left shoulder. On the right was a camping trailer. “The trucks have already made it past,” he murmured.

  Damon lifted his weapon. “I know.”

  Two SUV's instantly shot from ahead of the others and blocked the road. Three large Fords came out of nowhere behind them, spinning and creating a barrier.

  “Well.” Greyson slowed down, awareness prickling down his spine. He removed his gun from its holster, preparing for a fight. The odds weren't good, even if each vehicle only had one man. Chances of that were slim.

  Damon grasped his shortwave radio and pressed the button. “We need backup, guys. Now.”

  No answer.

  Shit. They knew not to move out of range, but everyone was in a hurry to rush back home to prevent the fire from spreading. “Get the grenades out of the jockey box, would you?” Grey waited until Damon had done so and had passed two over. They had to move, and fast. “I'll take front, you take rear.”

  “Copy that.” Damon tensed to open his door on orders.

  The back door of the black SUV opened, and President Atherton stepped out. Two guys instantly jumped from the vehicle, effectively blocking him.

  “Are they still called Se
cret Service, or are they all Elite Force now?” Damon asked, his voice hoarse.

  “Great question. Cover me.” Grey stepped from the vehicle, his hand on his weapon. He could get off a shot, but then he'd be dead.

  The two bodyguards instantly drew guns, pointing them at his chest.

  Damon slid his door open and aimed around the metal. “Four guns behind us,” he muttered.

  “Commander Storm,” Atherton called out. “Put the weapon down. You have my word I just want to talk.”

  It wasn't like he had much choice. Grey slid his weapon back into the holster and moved toward the SUV. “If they shoot me, take them all out and run,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Don't get shot,” Damon returned.

  Good plan. When Greyson reached the SUV, one of the guards removed his gun and then stepped aside. He climbed into the vehicle that had seats facing back and took one. “Mr. President,” he said, feeling naked without his gun. The knife at his calf provided little reassurance.

  Atherton smiled, his teeth a sparkly white. “Commander Storm. I apologize for surprising you like this, but I didn't have another option. Have you considered my offer?”

  One of the goons shut the door, leaving them in the quiet interior with the A/C running nicely. “I have,” Greyson said, “But, I haven't made a decision.”

  “I thought that might be the case,” Atherton said, handing over a blue file folder with the seal of the presidency on it. “I've been considering the best way to show you my reach, and I think this will help you make up your mind.”

  Grey flipped open the top to see a picture dated two weeks ago of Zach Barter in a white lab coat surrounded by a myriad of medical equipment. A flash of anger, the raw and dark kind, clamped onto Grey's chest. Bit his spine. Caught his lungs and cinched tight. “Where is he?”

  “I can have you there via air,” Atherton said. “Or I can bring him to you.”

  In the photo, an enormous aquarium took up the entire wall behind Barter with what looked like jellyfish and squid, blue and flimsy. Diagrams and charts covered one of the other walls. “What is this?” Grey asked.