Wicked Edge (Realm Enforcers, #2)(93)

“Not even close.” Wearily, she reached down and grabbed her shirt, shrugging it back on. She figured the “take me to your leader” line would get her shot. “Do you want to live or not?”

He met her gaze, hope and fear twisting his scarred upper lip. “Yes.”

It was the most sincere sound she’d heard in months. “We’re running out of time.” Time had deserted them long ago, but she needed to get a move on. “Please.” The sound shocked her, the civility of it, a word she’d forgotten how to use. The slightest of hopes warmed that blue organ in her chest, reminding her of who she used to be. Who she’d lost.

Another figure stepped forward, this one big and silent. Deadly power vibrated in the shift of muscle as light illuminated him from behind, keeping his features shrouded. “I didn’t tell you to put your shirt back on.” No emotion, no hint of humanity echoed in the deep rumble.

The lack of emotion twittered anxiety through her abdomen. Without missing a beat, she secured each button, keeping the movements slow and sure. “I take it you’re Mercury.” Regardless of name, there was no doubt the guy was in charge.

“If I am?” Soft, his voice promised death.

A promise she’d make him keep. Someday. The breeze picked up, tumbling weeds across the deserted 405. She fought a shiver. Any weakness shown might get her killed. “You know who I am.”

“I know who you say you are.” His overwhelming form blocked out the light, reminding her of her smaller size. “Take off your shirt.”

Something about the way he said it gave her pause. Before, she hadn’t cared. But with him so close she could smell male; an awareness of her femininity brought fresh fear. Nevertheless, she unbuttoned her shirt.

This time, her hands trembled.

Straightening her spine, she squared her shoulders and left the shirt on, the worn material gaping in the front.

He waited.

She lifted her chin, trying to meet his eyes, although she couldn’t see them. The men around them remained silent, yet alertness carried on the breeze. How many guns were trained on her? She wanted to tell them it would only take one. Though she’d been through hell, she’d never really learned to fight.

The wind whipped into action, lifting her long hair away from her face. Her arms tightened against her rib cage. Goose bumps rose along her skin.

Swearing softly, the man stepped in, long tapered fingers drawing her shirt apart. He shifted to the side, allowing light to blast her front. Neon blue glowed along her flesh.

“Jesus.” He pressed his palm against her breastbone—directly above her heart.

Shock tightened her muscles, her eyes widening, and that heart ripping into a gallop. Her nipples pebbled from the breeze. Warmth cascaded from his hand when he spread his fingers over the odd blue of her skin. When was the last time someone had touched her gently?

And gentle, he was.

The touch had her looking down at his damaged hand. Faded white scars slashed across his knuckles, above the veins, past his wrist. The bizarre glow from her heart filtered through his long fingers. Her entire chest was aqua from within, those veins closest to her heart, which glowed neon blue, shining strong enough to be seen through her ribs and sternum.

He exhaled loudly, removing his touch.

An odd sense of loss filtered down her spine. Then surprise came as he quickly buttoned her shirt to the top.

He clasped her by the elbow. “Cut the light.” His voice didn’t rise, but instantly, the light was extinguished. “I’m Mercury. What do you want?”

What a question. What she wanted, nobody could provide. Yet she struggled to find the right words. Night after night, traveling under darkness to reach him, she’d planned for this moment. But the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to breathe. To rest. To hide. “Help. I need your help.” The truth tumbled out too fast to stop.

He stiffened and then tightened his hold on her arm. “That, darlin’, you’re gonna have to earn.”





Jax eyed the brunette sitting in the backseat of the battered Subaru. He’d stolen the vehicle from a home in Beverly Hills after all hell had broken loose. The gardener who’d owned it no longer needed it, considering he was twelve feet under.

The luxury SUV sitting so close to the Subaru had tempted him, but the older car would last longer and use less gas, which was almost depleted, anyway. Hell, everything they had was almost depleted. From medical supplies to fuel to books to, well, hope. How the hell did he refill everybody with hope when he could barely remember the sensation?

The night raid had been a search for more gasoline from abandoned vehicles, not a search party for survivors. He’d never thought to find Lynn Harmony.

The woman had closed her eyes, her head resting against the plush leather. Soft moonlight wandered through the tinted windows to caress the sharp angles of her face. With deep green eyes and pale skin, she was much prettier than he’d expected . . . much softer. Too soft.

Though, searching him out, well now. The woman had guts.

Manny kept looking at her through the rearview mirror, and for some reason, that irritated Jax. “Watch the road.”

Manny cut a glance his way. At over fifty years old, beaten and weathered, he took orders easily. “There’s no one out here tonight but us.”

“We hope.” Jax’s gut had never lied to him. Somebody was coming. If the woman had brought danger to his little place in the world, she’d pay.