Run To Me (Lazarus Rising #4)(63)

Jay stilled. Reva wasn’t making a sound. He could feel his own blood soaking his clothes.

Flynn was lying in a heap. Jay’s guards had scattered. Those who were still alive, anyway. He couldn’t see West. Didn’t know where his brother was. He has to be okay. He wasn’t in the SUV or the limo. He wasn’t.

“We’re going to walk away. You’re going to stand right there and watch us.” Lucas jerked Willow forward. Whipped her around in a lightning fast move so that she was against his chest, she faced Jay, and Lucas had one arm wrapped around her throat.

His other hand held a gun. And the gun was pressed hard to her temple.

“Willow was never yours,” Lucas snarled at him. “She’ll never be—”

“Really?” Jay shouted back at him. He wanted that gun away from Willow’s temple. If it moved, just for a moment, Willow would have her chance. She could break free. “Could’ve fooled me. Especially when she was coming beneath me—”

Lucas roared. The gun flew away from Willow’s temple. Aimed at Jay.

Run, Willow. Now is your chance. You can run—

“No!” Willow screamed.

The bullet was already firing. Jay didn’t have the same reflexes that the super soldiers did. He couldn’t dodge a fucking bullet. Couldn’t jump to the side.

But he seemed to be watching the scene in slow motion.

Willow shoved at Lucas’s hand. She didn’t run. She fought him.

The bullet was coming at Jay. He turned, twisting even as his gaze stayed on Willow. He cradled Reva in his arms and—

The bullet hit him in the back.

Willow was screaming. He thought it was his name.

Run, Willow…

He hit the ground.

Fucking run.





Chapter Sixteen


The motel room’s floor was covered by threadbare carpet. Willow glanced up, expecting to see thin cracks along the surface of the ceiling.

But there were no cracks above her, just yellowed paint.

“Sorry I had to dose you.”

His voice. Lucas.

She sat up—slowly, clumsily—as she became aware of a deep lethargy that filled her body.

“When Maverick hit the ground, you started fighting me too much. The tranq was the best option.”

Her hands were secured behind her back. She yanked, thinking she could just snap what felt like handcuffs—

“Yeah, that’s not going to work. They’re made of a special, reinforced metal. Designed to be Lazarus proof.” Lucas sat in a wooden chair, just a few feet away from her. He’d flipped the chair around so that he straddled it, and his fingers draped over the back as he studied her. “I’ll give you two guesses as to who the SOB is who designed those cuffs.”

She sat up, slowly. The lethargy seemed to weigh down her limbs. “Where…Jay…”

He laughed. “Right. Bingo. Jay. Jay Maverick designed the cuffs. Just like he designed all of the containment cells that held the Lazarus subjects. Just like he funneled a truck load of cash into the program.” His laughter faded. His eyes gleamed. “He was behind it all, Willow. Every single moment. And you still let him touch you?”

Goosebumps were on her skin. “You…” Her tongue was thick in her mouth. “Shot Jay.”

“A couple of times.” He nodded. “Let’s just hope he isn’t enhanced and the jackass does us the courtesy of dying.”

“No!”

His features hardened. “Willow, don’t piss me off.” He stood, kicking away the chair.

She struggled to stand, too, but her knees wouldn’t hold her. She fell back to the floor.

He laughed. “So much for that Lazarus strength, huh? Doesn’t do jack when you’ve got those drugs in your system.” He crouched before her. “Didn’t Wyman ever pump your veins full of the tranq? Didn’t he experiment to see what it would do to you?”

Her lips clamped together.

“No, of course, he didn’t. Because you were his precious daughter. He’d never hurt you. So the experiments were reserved for everyone else. He tested them, he hurt them, so he could keep his girl safe.”

“I don’t…know what you’re talking about!”

Lucas snapped his fingers together. “Right. The amnesia. Unfortunate side effect. That’s Wyman, though, he never talks about the side effects.” He brought his hand to his lips and lifted his index finger. As if he were telling her a secret. “He only tells you the good parts. Like he tells you that you’ll get stronger. That you’ll be faster. That you’ll be an even better soldier.”

“You’re…Lazarus?”

“Nah. I don’t rise from the dead.”

But he’d been shot. She’d seen—

He yanked open his shirt, sending buttons flying. “Bullet proof vest, sweetheart. If you remembered me, if you remembered us, you’d know I never go into any situation unprepared.” He took off the vest, tossing it across the room. He rubbed his hands over his chest, and she saw the faint, red marks that had been left behind. The vest had saved his ass.

His hand lifted toward her.

Willow flinched.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You held a gun to my head,” Willow gritted out.