Shadow Falling (The Scorpius Syndrome #2) Read online

  Jax held a hand up. “Everybody point your weapons at the ground. Right damn fucking now.”

  Instantly, his men complied.

  The men at the fence looked toward Lighton. He nodded, and they lowered their guns.

  That wasn’t good. Not at all. “Take note of who you see on Lighton’s crew,” he whispered to Sami.

  She nodded, her brown eyes beyond alert. “Got it.”

  “What the hell is going on, Lighton?” Jax asked, crossing his arms.

  Lighton moved closer to the fence. “We’re just trying to protect our people. That’s all.”

  “Yet you failed to mention the entire fence situation when we met earlier,” Jax said, his temper simmering.

  “You didn’t seem receptive to any plan to protect these pure people, so I went ahead with doing it myself.” Lighton gestured widely. “Scorpius will kill them, so I have to take precautions. It’s my duty, and I’m bound by God.”

  The men flanking him nodded, fear in their eyes, determination on their faces.

  Ah, hell. “How exactly do you intend to get food and medicinal supplies?” Sami called out.

  “We’re part of Vanguard, and we require extra precautions. Many of us will still conduct our jobs out there, including me. But we need a safe place for the women and children who don’t work outside to remain untouched by the bacteria. If you had loved ones who were uninfected, you’d want them to be here,” Lighton said.

  Jax shoved anger away as most of the people facing off kept perfectly still. His soldiers were well trained, but he recognized the ones backing Lighton. Also well trained. “This is unacceptable.”

  Lighton held his arms wide. “‘The Lord watches over the sojourners; he upholds the widow and the fatherless, but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.’”

  “Psalms 146:9,” Jax said. “‘Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world.’”

  “You’re quoting John. Interesting.” Lighton shook his head. “I’m merely a simple man doing God’s work. Not once have I said I’m a prophet.”

  Yet he was acting like one, now wasn’t he? Jax turned slightly toward Sami. “What’s the danger if we go in, guns blazing? How many people are quartered there?” Not that he had a prison cell anywhere. His only recourse would be to kick Lighton and his followers out.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “That apartment building is where we’ve housed the orphaned children.”

  Shit. “Kids, widows, and armed soldiers.” Jax shook his head. “Advice?”

  Sami studied the tense soldiers all around. “Schedule a meeting with Lighton. Let everyone walk away right now so both sides can save face and nobody gets shot. Especially any kids in that building behind him.”

  Jax gritted his teeth. “I don’t like backing down.” It wouldn’t set well with his soldiers.

  “Then don’t.” Sami shuffled her boots. “Tell Lighton he has one day to tear down the fence and come to you with a plan for his people.”

  “You think he’ll tear it down?”

  “No. Do you?” Sami asked.

  Jax eyed a fluttering curtain on the third floor. “No, but I also don’t want the folks inside to think I’m the bad guy or to be afraid of me. Lighton is capitalizing on fear already.” Fear of Scorpius.

  Sami nodded. “I met with him last week and thought he was a nice guy. I missed this.”

  “So did I.” Jax counted the guns he could see. Too many. “Vinnie Wellington caught it, though.” The shrink had been correct about Lighton. Jax should’ve listened to her.

  “I want to work with you and not against you,” Lighton said gently.

  Jax lifted his chin. “You and I are not equal leaders here, buddy. This isn’t détente. You have twenty-four hours to take down the fence and come to me with a plan for your people. In addition, I want a list of who you’re including as your people.” He turned away, as if finished with the matter.

  Sami loped into a walk next to him as thunder rolled in from the Pacific. “Our soldiers will watch for trouble.”

  “I know.” Jax kept striding south and glanced up at the darkening sky. It was going to rain again. “You go back to headquarters and find a list of who you think lives in those apartment buildings. I’ll check out all the warehouses on the perimeter to see what they’ve taken.” Something told him it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Voices and the sound of dishes clanking echoed through the infirmary from the adjoining soup kitchen. The soldiers must be having dinner, but the last thing Raze wanted was to eat. He might never eat again.

  For an hour, he’d fought against the restraints shackling him to the bed. He nearly had his left hand free when Tace loped inside, blood dripping from his knuckles. Against all reason, going on his gut, Raze burst out laughing.

  Tace paused.

  Raze coughed a few times and then settled down. His intestines hurt, his muscles ached, and his head pounded. Even so, his fuckin’ brain worked. “You smashed your knuckles for no reason, dickhead.”

  Tace frowned and glanced down at his bleeding hand. “Humph.” He flipped a chair around to straddle it. Mild curiosity and no real emotion showed on his face. “How did you know?”

  Raze took a shaky breath and then two more until his lungs worked properly. “Two reasons. One, if you hit her hard enough to smash your knuckles like that, she’d most likely be dead. I know you wouldn’t kill her. She’s too valuable to Vanguard.”

  Tace wiped his thumb across his purpling knuckles. “Reason two?”

  Raze studied the man he didn’t really know but had already trusted to have his back. “Neither you nor Jax would ever harm a woman. Especially a sweet, innocent, brilliant one like the good Dr. Vinnie Wellington.” He’d settled into that fact the second Jax had left the room an hour ago, so his mind had been much more peaceful than Jax had intended. “Now get me out of these restraints so I can figure out what to do.” Maybe he could get Jax’s cooperation to retrieve Maureen. He just needed to clear his mind from the fever and think, damn it.

  Tace reached over and released the restraints. “Hey. You were almost out of this one.”

  “Almost.” Raze shoved himself into a seated position. “When will my head stop pounding?”

  Tace shrugged. “About a week, but then the headaches come on regularly. At least for me. Maybe they won’t for you because we shot you up with vitamin B immediately. Do you feel crazy?”

  “No. Just tired.” Raze glanced down at his bare chest. He’d survived Scorpius. While he had no idea what would happen to his brain next, he’d lived. Thank God. “Where’s my shirt?”

  “Ruined.”

  “Great.” Raze scrubbed both hands down his face. “I liked that shirt.”

  Tace headed for the door. “Bummer. Stay here and get your bearings. I’ll fetch you some soup for a late dinner. You were out all day.”

  “Not hungry.”

  “Need to eat,” Tace returned, striding out of sight.

  Raze pushed off the bed and stood. His legs straightened. Good. While he certainly shouldn’t have been granted the grace to live, he was alive, so he was going to do what he needed to. Then he hitched toward the door, sweat pouring from him by the time he entered what used to be the reception area for the free clinic.

  An explosion boomed from the other room.

  What the hell? His body took a second to catch up to reality. He lurched into motion, fighting gravity.

  He ripped open the cabinets behind the counter for the hidden guns known only to the elite soldiers. Screams came from the other room.

  His hands shook, but he had to do something.

  He grabbed a Glock and inched toward the wide opening between the infirmary and the mess hall. Smoke and rushing bodies instantly filled his view. He crept into the main rec room just as Tace barreled in from the opposite side, a gun in his hand.

  A fire burned in the middle of the roo
m, and smoke billowed in black clouds. “Status?” Raze barked.

  “Don’t know.” Tace moved with him in perfect sync as they began stomping the burning mass.

  “Where’s Jax?” Raze growled.

  Tace coughed. “Don’t know that either.”

  Raze looked down. Glass, rags, and unidentifiable material. “A Molotov cocktail?”

  “Three of them, actually,” Tace said.

  People jumped up from tables, eyes wide, several armed. Smoke and debris made it hard to see, even with the daylight pouring in, and a couple of civilians ran into each other.

  Sami jumped from the stairwell leading to the soldier apartments, her dark hair swinging wildly in a ponytail. “What’s going on?”

  The front door opened and two women ran in, armed and dressed for guard duty. Barb, a tight blonde with a scar on her jaw, shook her head. “They cut the fence in the west and killed two guards. Throats sliced—no shots fired. We’ve been infiltrated.” Smoke slammed into her, and she turned her head. “Open the doors wide,” she ordered the other woman.

  Raze met Tace’s gaze. “Did anybody see anything?” He slowly glanced around at the rapidly assembling group, looking for somebody he didn’t know, a feat impossible with the still-dark smoke.

  Sami slammed a clip into her gun. “I’ll go cover the west side.”

  Raze stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Go careful. Somebody got inside, and they could be waiting.” He jerked his head at a kid who’d emerged from the back of the war room, hair mussed and glasses askew. As the resident genius with machinery, Byron was often on call to the headquarters, and Raze had started training him in combat. Jill Sanderson, his pregnant girlfriend, hovered at his side, wires in her hands. “You armed?” Raze asked.

  “Yeah.” The kid drew a gun from the back of his jeans and coughed out smoke.

  “Good. Cover Sami and scout the west side.”

  Jill Sanderson paled, but she didn’t move.

  The kid turned and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Whatever he whispered made Jill nod and step back. The smile she gave him was fake but brave.

  Byron nodded and instantly ran to Sami’s side. “Let’s go.”

  Raze pivoted to see Vinnie herding several of the scavenger teens toward the far counter and away from the steaming smoke. The woman needed to get away from the line of fire.

  “Raze?” Tace asked.

  “I know. We’ve got a threat here. I can feel it.” Raze inched away from Tace, taking point across the room.

  Tace moved the opposite direction, his gaze sweeping.

  Fuck it. Raze couldn’t see well enough. “Everybody kneel down, hands behind your head. All weapons on the ground.” Enough bark filled his voice that several people dropped to their knees. Too many still stood, confusion buzzing through the smoke. “Fucking down. Now!” Several more obeyed.

  He caught movement across the room. “Tace!” he hissed.

  “For Twenty,” a man yelled, swinging an automatic and firing.

  People screamed and flattened on the ground. Time slowed for Raze. From the corner of his eye, he saw Vinnie tackle a bunch of kids to the ground, protecting them with her body.

  Tace moved faster than wind and slid feet first into the shooter. The bullets rocketed up and hit the ceiling, and the guy fell on top of Tace, who flipped them both over. Without pausing, Tace drew a blade from his pocket.

  Raze turned around, senses on alert, eyes burned by the smoke. There had to be another one. His gaze caught a kid’s, one he didn’t recognize. The kid wore dark clothing with a turtleneck covering his neck. Hiding a tattoo? Raze bunched to attack, and the kid grabbed a woman by the hair, pressing a gun into her throat.

  What was the woman’s name? Raze couldn’t remember it, but she was about thirty and worked as one of the cooks at the headquarters building. Her terror-filled eyes pleaded for help, and she cried out when the kid yanked back her head.

  Then she screamed. Loud and with enough terror to skitter chills down Raze’s back.

  Panic filled the kid’s eyes.

  “Shut up,” Raze snarled.

  The woman hitched and then fell silent, tears sliding down her pale cheeks.

  The gun lay heavy in Raze’s hand, the feeling too familiar. Although the weakness in his limbs from the fever was something new. “Let her go and I won’t kill you.”

  Terror and determination crossed the kid’s face. “Let Chade up.”

  “Chade is dead,” Raze said, not needing to turn and look. He’d already seen the smoothness of Tace’s movement with the blade, and he’d heard the knife go in. “You can still live. Maybe find a different way to survive in this world than shooting kids and scaring somebody’s mom.” He had no fucking clue if the cook was a mom or had ever been a mom. But to this kid, she was mom age, and that was good enough.

  The kid faltered. “Twenty sent me. Sent us. This is retribution for the members you all killed.”

  “I know the drill. This is for your colors.” Raze angled to the side to get a better view. He’d never been in a gang, but he’d studied membership and group dynamics in the military. Movement sounded behind him, and he caught sight of Vinnie shepherding the civilians out of the room. Good. The fewer folks in the path of bullets, the better.

  His heart beat rapidly, and he took a couple of deep breaths, trying to stay calm. “The Vanguard leader, Jax Mercury, used to be Twenty, you know.” Where the fuck was Jax?

  The kid’s chin lifted, his dark gaze hardening. “There’s no used to. You’re Twenty or you’re not.” The more the kid spoke, the younger he seemed. Raze had thought sixteen at first, but maybe fourteen? Even younger, possibly.

  “There’s a better life and a different way,” Raze said.

  “There’s no other life.” The kid shoved the gun harder against the cook’s jugular, and she rose up on her toes, crying out.

  Raze took another step to the left, ignoring the fear overtaking the atmosphere. His knees wobbled, but he kept moving steadily, his focus on that gun. If he kept asking questions, maybe he could distract the kid. “How long have you been in Twenty?”

  “Long enough.” The kid twitched his head to the side, and Raze could sense Tace stepping closer.

  Raze took another step toward the kid. “You have a big choice to make now. This is no way to get your colors. The time for that has passed. Now we need to work together to survive Scorpius.” The kid was too young—this had to be his mission for colors. Shit. He might have just earned them. The scent of blood mingled with the smoke, and several bodies lay on the ground. “Let the lady go.”

  The kid looked at him and slowly backed toward the door, dragging the cook. He was about an inch taller and definitely stronger. His eyes transmitted his intent the second he decided to kill. “Twenty forever,” he yelled.

  Raze lifted and shot with one smooth motion. The bullet struck between the kid’s eyes, killing him instantly. He flew back into the side wall. Blood spurted. The cook screamed and lurched toward the eastern residence hallway and kept running.

  The blood in Raze’s veins cooled. His chest hurt. He strode toward the kid, who lay lifeless, his eyes still open. Dropping to his haunches, Raze gently closed his eyelids. The hole in his head was small and perfectly shaped. Raze cleared his throat and pulled the kid toward him, reaching for the back pocket.

  Tace stood above him. “Raze, man. Don’t do it. It’s over.”

  Raze ignored him and found a wallet, yanking out the cloth material. He ripped open the Velcro and slid out a picture of the kid with a family. Mom, Dad, two sisters, all smiling in front of a Christmas tree. Fuck. Raze reached in for the only other item in the wallet, a student ID card from Breton Middle School. Middle school. Clearing his throat, he read the card. “Phillip Lopez. Sixth grade, last year.” Tucking the wallet between the kid’s hands, he stood. “He was fucking twelve years old.”

  Tace set a hand on his shoulder. “He was going to shoot Mary.”

  Raze je
rked his head in a nod. “Yeah.” Twelve years old. He’d just plugged a hole into the head of a twelve-year-old boy, and Raze didn’t even belong in Vanguard. He didn’t belong anywhere. Weight descended so heavily on his shoulders, he nearly staggered. “He gets buried in the graveyard tomorrow morning when the storm stops.”

  Tace dropped his hand. “I’ll get a sheet and make sure he’s ready.”

  Fire burned deep and hot in Raze’s chest, torturing him from inside. He had to get out of there. Away from people and away from death. But he turned around to view the wounded. “How bad?”

  Lynne Harmony ran inside, her hair a wild mess and sleep in her eyes. She instantly started checking the five or so people on the ground. Blood seeped into the cheap vinyl floor. “Three dead and two unconscious. I need Tace.”

  Tace ran toward the injured. “I’ve got it.”

  Raze’s hands began to tremble, and he slid his gun into the back of his waistband. Twelve. Years. Old. Pain pounded in his temples, and bile rose in his throat. He needed to puke.

  Jax barreled in from the rear door and took in the scene. “Jesus.”

  Raze nodded.

  “You okay, Raze?” Jax asked, his gaze dark.

  “Yes.” Darkness claimed him, and Raze never felt the ground he hit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There’s no doubt that life has the power to deliver such agonizing blows as to create insanity.

  —Dr. Vinnie Wellington, Sociopaths

  The smells of smoke, blood, and death hung like too-heavy curtains throughout headquarters, even hours after the explosion and fight. Vinnie’s eyes teared as she moved inside.

  She blinked through the smoke still hanging in the air. Everyone had deserted the rec room and headed either outside for duty or inner territory for their apartments. It had taken hours to patch people up and clean the area, and she hadn’t seen Raze the entire time. “I’ll be back.”

  Jax looked up from scrubbing blood off the floor. He’d heard the shots from across Vanguard territory and had come running back in time to see Raze hit the floor. “You should get some rest, Doc.”