Mercury Striking Page 15

  She held out her doll.

  Appearing serious, his attention on the girl, he took the doll and turned her over. Then he put her to his ear. Finally, he grinned and handed the doll back. Whatever he said had the little girl smiling widely.

  Tingles scattered throughout Lynne’s entire body. Jax Mercury, on his own with no witnesses, was a sweetheart. Now what the hell was she supposed to do with that information?

  The girl handed him something, and he placed it in his pocket. A female redheaded teenager ran up and grabbed the girl’s hand.

  Jax stood and turned to point inside.

  The girls ran inside, bringing the scent of fresh rain, and hurried toward the soup station. They must’ve run out of food in the center. Or maybe the girls were visiting somebody at the main headquarters.

  Suddenly, the blonde turned and stared right at Lynne, her eyes so dark as to be black. She smiled, jerked free, and ran toward Lynne to stop right in front of her.

  “Hi,” Lynne said.

  The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a smooth, round rock to hold out.

  Ah. A present. Lynne took the rock. “Thank you for the gift. You must be Lena?”

  The girl nodded and then turned to run for the soup counter. Lynne turned the rock over to see a rough 4 scratched into both sides. 44? Interesting. She glanced back toward the window.

  Jax’s gaze caught Lynne’s and heated. She blinked, captured.

  Then Wyatt jogged up, gun in hand, obviously coming from the rear exit of the infirmary. Jax turned toward his friend. Wyatt’s lips were tight, and anger was carved into his face. Whatever he said to Jax cooled the expression in Jax’s eyes until, yards away, Lynne shivered.

  Jax took a deep breath, his gaze going out to the tumultuous day.

  Lynne swallowed just as Sami returned, her eyes glimmering with tears as she left a whispering group over by the soup. “What?” Lynne asked.

  Sami wiped her cheek. “Haylee Snyder just died.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  To love is to purposefully make oneself vulnerable. Sometimes the risk pays off.

  —Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony

  To the left of headquarters, past what used to be a busy street, lay two full blocks of vacant land fronting old business buildings that now stored weapons. Garbage, fragments of glass, and crack pipes had littered the weeds and dirt of the empty property before Jax had ordered it cleaned up to create a cemetery. The first grave had been dug six months ago, and since then, too many to count.

  Or maybe he just didn’t want to count.

  He’d placed the graveyard across the road from the east side of his headquarters so he could see it every day. So he could keep track of the people he’d failed. Plus, he kept the area extra secure so folks could visit the dead.

  When he’d set the time for Haylee’s funeral, just hours after her death, Lynne had asked why he went to the trouble to bury people in the middle of chaos. Her tone had held curiosity, the genuine kind, and no judgment.

  His only answer was that the dead deserved a good place to rest.

  It was all he had.

  Jax kept his hands together, his head up and gaze searching as others bowed their heads.

  Wyatt’s deep tone wound through the falling rain, somehow reassuring and hopeful in a prayer for everlasting life.

  But the look in his eyes was one of fury. Pure, raw, unadulterated fury.

  Jax nodded. Cruz had infected the girl on purpose, which meant he’d killed her on purpose. Soon, Jax would go hunting his old friend.

  For now, good-byes took precedence.

  Tace, his stance wide, kept point to Wyatt’s left. His fever had broken, but now tremors visibly shook his arms. Yet he watched Wyatt’s back, gaze alert and seeking.

  The gratitude Jax felt at Tace’s survival was only slightly marred by the uncertainty of Tace’s future. Of his sanity. When Jax had been infected, he’d immediately begun the vitamin B regimen, which had hopefully helped him retain his sanity. There had been no immediate B for Tace, and the repercussions of that could be devastating, although now he was getting shot up. For now, Jax would take whatever good he could.

  Lynne stood at Jax’s side, tears falling silently down her face. Her body remained still, almost too much so, and not one sound emerged with her sorrow. The woman had learned to grieve in silence and alone, now hadn’t she? No matter how tempted he was, how he knew she needed comforting, he couldn’t reach out.

  Wyatt finished the eulogy. How many had he given just during the last month? The guy had gotten his minister’s license online before Scorpius as a joke so he could officiate a football buddy’s wedding. But now, with death all around them, he was the only minister they had. Internet or not.

  April Snyder watched the men pour dirt over her daughter’s covered body, not crying, not saying a word. She’d gone pale as if life had left her along with her color. The wind whipped into her, lifting her hair.

  Little Lena stood vigil nearby, a small doll-like angel in her hands. She’d been giving April angel related gifts for a month.

  Jax shivered. The irony there had to be just that—irony. He focused back on the ground.

  The grave was small. Jax jolted internally at the thought. So fucking small. Haylee had been only about five feet tall, young and thin. Way too fucking young to die or be buried. He’d seen death up close since childhood, and he’d seen more than his share of dead kids. But now, as the leader of their small group, he felt each death somewhere deep and dark. One day, he’d fall in there and never climb out.

  Rain poured over him, but he didn’t feel the cold. Hell, he didn’t feel anything but fury.

  Until one small hand slid into his.

  The anger rioting through him quelled. Just enough so he could breathe. Lynne had slipped her hand into his, and he curled his fingers, holding her against his abs. He couldn’t imagine how she’d dug deep enough to reach out, because he couldn’t have done it.

  But he held tight.

  The sermon ended, and a couple of the teenagers spoke next. Lena, her white hair glimmering in the lost day, moved forward and handed April the angel before turning back to the teenager watching her. Then the group slowly began to wind their way back to the center of Vanguard territory and the apartment buildings, walking through puddles and over cracked concrete, their shoulders and heads down.

  April Snyder didn’t move.

  Neither did Jax, Wyatt, or the soldiers flanking her. Jax thought about giving Lynne leave to go get warm, but the idea of relinquishing her hand made his gut clench. He’d seen parents grieve, and sometimes they stayed all night at the grave site. So he’d wait for April however long it took. He gave Tace the high sign to get inside, but his friend just stared back.

  Stubborn bastard.

  Without even a hint of warning, April Snyder dropped to her knees. Water and mud splashed up.

  Lynne began to tug away to approach the grieving mother, but Jax held firm. The woman had to grieve in whatever way worked for her.

  Silver suddenly contrasted with her black coat. She held a gun in her hand, the one Jax had given her.

  Oh fuck. Jax shoved Lynne behind him. “April?” He began to move toward her, slowly, just as Wyatt approached from the other side.

  She looked up, her gaze blank.

  Shit. “April, honey? Look at me. Focus.” Another two feet, and he could get the gun.

  She twisted and put the barrel under her neck.

  Panic tightened his throat. “April, don’t do this. We need you. I know you’re in pain, but we need you.” He lowered his voice to soothing, edging closer, trying to connect.

  Tears filled her eyes. Finally. “I can’t.” Her lips trembled.

  “You can,” he said gently, his hands shaking for the first time that day. “It almost kills you, but you can. The fight is all we have left.”

  A tear fell from her eye. “No fight left. They’re all gone.”

  He scrambled for anything to ge
t through to her. “You’re religious and believe you have a purpose. Don’t end your time here.”

  She blinked. “Or I’ll go to hell?”

  He didn’t want to touch that one. “No, honey. Just please put down the gun and we’ll talk,” he said.

  Her head tilted to the side as if becoming too heavy for her neck. Weariness and agony cascaded from her. “I’m already in hell.”

  “We all are, but we need you. We’ll never get out if we don’t help each other.” The gun pointed to her delicate head was fucking with his brain. Bombs exploded and screams echoed in his head—an immediate flashback to pain and death. To Frankie dying in his arms, surrounded by gunfire and devastation. He shoved himself back to the present. “Please, April.” His voice shook. “Don’t do this.”

  Her eyes focused. “It’s too hard.”

  His eyes filled. “I know. God, I know.” Slowly, so as not to spook her, he approached until he was close enough to grab the gun. “Please, put down the gun.” He could probably take it, but she needed to make the decision to live, or no matter what he did right now, she wouldn’t.

  April focused on him, so much anguish in her eyes he wanted to yell. The toy angel dropped from her hand, and her gaze followed it. She stared at the now dirty angel. Her shoulders slumped. An anguished sob echoed from her chest. Finally, her hand trembling, she lowered the gun to the mud.

  Wyatt instantly reached her, lifting her to stand and securing her weapon in his pocket. “Let’s get you inside, sweetheart.” April leaned into him, moving almost like a robot.

  More flashbacks bombarded Jax, and he wavered, turning around.

  Lynne eyed him, her skin pale, her lips shaking. But she held her ground.

  He tilted his head to the side, watching her, not sure what he was seeing. Bombs kept going off, and his body jerked.

  “Jax!” Raze’s voice shot through him.

  “What?” He turned, and his gaze dropped to the fresh grave. To the present and not the fights of the past. The day hazed. Dead kids. Too many dead kids surrounded him. “Why?” he breathed.

  Nobody answered.

  Raze cleared his throat. “I’ll finish here and smooth things over. You get Tace and Lynne back to headquarters and out of the storm.”

  Storm? What storm? Jax settled, the hollowness inside him spreading until pain became everything. “No. You go. I’m not done.”

  “No,” Raze said.

  Jax jerked up his head. “I said, I’ve got it.”

  Raze’s head lifted, and his somber blue eyes glowed through the gray. “Fine. Tace, take Lynne. I’ll cover.”

  Tace moved toward Lynne.

  “No, I—” She stopped speaking when Jax jerked his focus to her. Whatever she saw in his face had her backing toward Tace. Raze reached them and walked away as well.

  Jax waited until they’d crossed the street and were halfway across the old parking lot fronting headquarters before grasping a shovel and patting the earth smoother around Haylee’s grave.

  When he finished, he leaned on the shovel, his entire body hurting. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  An hour after Haylee’s burial, Lynne sifted through Tace’s laboratory records, failing to find another source of vitamin B but refusing to give up.

  She sat on an examination table with a box of papers from Baker and Baker. An hour later, her head hurt and her eyes burned. Yet she picked up a new box and moved on. Most of the notes in the first box were about vitamin B and different SRI inhibitors that might assist in slowing down the progression of the infection. Her mind quickly cataloged everything she’d read.

  Her entire life, she’d been quick. Very smart. But since surviving Scorpius, her brain worked even faster and more efficiently. She’d remember everything she read.

  Ideas began to form.

  When she reached the third box, a list of shipping addresses caught her eye. Numbers lined up evenly. She bit her lip. What did they mean? She memorized them, her breath catching when she deciphered a very faded pencil line at the bottom. Myriad. The letters were scratched in and tilted, but they spelled Myriad. Shit. The sheet was about Myriad Labs. What did all of the numbers mean? Was it some kind of code?

  Tace entered the doorway. “Dinner has been over for a couple of hours, but there’s still food. You need to eat.”

  She slowly nodded, more than willing to take a break and let her subconscious take over with the code. After she ate something, she’d get right back to work.

  Tace escorted her into the soup kitchen where Raze was already eating, and in a few minutes, she’d eaten a little dinner. Soon she held a chipped plastic cup next to her silent companions, Raze and Tace.

  She hadn’t spent much time with Raze and had yet to hear him speak a complete sentence. He’d tied his shoulder-length black hair at the nape, showcasing sharp features with definite Native American markers. His light blue eyes showed no sign of emotion, but he seemed to be on constant alert. She could ask him about himself, but forging another connection with a person, even so lightly as with general conversation, was just too much right now.

  Dinner had consisted of some sort of bread meal mush that had actually filled her belly. The mood in the rec room remained somber, and death hovered all around. She cleared her throat and focused on the man she already kind of knew once her brain kicked back into gear. “How are you feeling?”

  Tace rubbed his whiskered jaw. “Like I got run over by my granddaddy’s farm pickup. Twice.”

  Yeah, that about summed up the fever. She needed the right words, but the time for niceties had passed. “You’ve been getting injections of B now, so that’s good. How’s your cognitive functioning?”

  Raze lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  Tace tapped fingers on the table. “I don’t know. I don’t want to kill anybody or plan a mass murder, but . . .”

  “But?” Raze asked.

  “So you can speak,” Lynne blurted out.

  Raze cut her a look and focused back on the medic. “But what?” he asked.

  Tace rubbed the back of his neck. “My brain processes seem . . . slow. Muddy and hindered.”

  Lynne breathed out. “You had a high fever, and your body is still reeling. It can take weeks to get back to normal.”

  Tace nodded. “I know, and if I get the urge to bite somebody, I’ll let you know.”

  Raze shoved back from the table, stood, and stalked toward the outside door.

  “Well, good-bye,” Lynne said without heat. What an odd guy.

  Tace smiled with a definite lack of humor. “He doesn’t talk much.”

  They needed to get back to work, but for a moment, her eyes stung. So she stayed put. “What’s his story?” Not that she cared. Sometimes the scientist in her reared up when she least expected it, and curiosity won out.

  Tace shrugged. “Hell if I know. He walked into camp two weeks ago, fully armed, and said he wanted every member of Twenty dead. That was good enough for Jax.”

  Yeah, that would be. “Will Jax go after Cruz now that Haylee has died?” Lynne asked, trying to sound casual. She needed Jax Mercury alive and ready for the next battle. One he didn’t even know was coming.

  “Yes.”

  That made sense. Her body shook in a yawn, and her vision blurred.

  “You’re exhausted.” Tace pushed back and stood. “I can escort you to your quarters if you’d like?” While the suggestion was posed as a question, his manner said it was anything but.

  Lynne stood. “So I’m still under house arrest?”

  “I don’t see that changing.” Tace grabbed their dirty dishes to place in a hollowed-out tire near the food. “Sorry.”

  “I can keep working for a few hours.” She swayed.

  Tace shook his head. “Come on, Dr. Harmony. You know as well as I that sleep is necessary for brain function.”

  She regained her balance. A couple of hours would probably do her good. She should probably ask who did the dishes, but at the moment, she d
idn’t really care. “Are we meeting in the, ah, lab tomorrow?” It was still early, but exhaustion lived in every one of Lynne’s movements.

  “Yes. Maybe the info from Baker will give us more information on inoculations or other businesses turned into production labs. For now, get some sleep.” Tace escorted her out of the main hall. “I plan to do the same soon, but right now I need to go hash out the scouting schedules with Wyatt.” They walked up the stairs, and Tace left her at her doorway.

  Okay. She’d sleep on it and let her subconscious work on the code. If that didn’t help, she’d get paper and pen the next day and try to decipher the numbers. If the numbers even related to Myriad. It was possible they had nothing to do with the lab, but it was all she had.

  Lynne drew in air, opened the door, and slipped inside, only to draw up short. Apparently Jax had sought his quarters after burying Haylee. Chaos had touched down in the little efficiency apartment. Broken dishes, a demolished chair, and clothing littered the floor. Even the counter had been partially pulled from the wall. She quietly closed the door.

  Jax Mercury, his back to her, stance wide, faced a broken window as Mother Nature pounded outside. He’d torn the wooden boards away. Shards of glass, covered with red and dripping rain, were scattered around his feet. Tension rode him, stronger than raging nature out the window. Muscles rippled down his back like those of a beast about to lunge.

  Holy hell. Lynne faltered and swallowed. A year ago, she would’ve probably backed away and shut the door. Instead, she locked the door behind her. “When you throw a tantrum, it’s a big one,” she murmured.

  His shoulders stiffened. “Leave. Now.”

  “No.”

  He turned in a gracefully slow arc that sped up her breath. His eyes had darkened to almost black, and an unholy wildness, one not quite human, glimmered in their depths. “Go.”

  “No.” She tried to breathe out evenly to keep from having a stroke. She’d only been in camp a short time, but she could see the problem. Could he? “We don’t have time for this. You don’t have the luxury of this.”