Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(113)

“Um, on the counter?”

He moved the short distance to the L-shaped area that had once served as a kitchen, somehow seeing in the dark. The fridge was gone, the sink didn’t work, and the oven now held extra socks. Once electricity had stopped flowing, kitchens, for the most part, had become useless.

Setting her on the chipped counter, he twisted on a halogen lantern and immediately crouched down, one broad hand wrapping around her ankle. “What the hell, woman?”

She winced. “I panicked.”

“No shit.” He opened the oven and drew out a pair of socks, having been the person who’d put them there in the first place when he’d helped her to move. Gently, much more gently than a man his size should be able to touch, he wiped grime and blood off her aching arch. “Looks okay—just scraped.” He looked up intently. “We’re out of antibiotics, and you can’t injure yourself like this.”

A panic attack didn’t wait for reason. “All right.”

He slowly shook his head. “You need a roommate.”

Not a chance. Often she awoke screaming like a banshee, and she couldn’t do that to another person. Even if she could find somebody willing to stay with her. “Okay.”

“Stop agreeing with me.” His voice remained level, always in perfect control.

“You bet.”

He sat back, still on his haunches, a shield over his expression. As usual. “You’ve been here a week, and nobody has pushed you, but this isn’t working.”

She swallowed and tried to sit back. “I’ll be okay.”

“Stop saying okay.”

“O—all right.”

His eyebrows drew down. “If you talk about it, you’ll get rid of the nightmares.” He placed both hands over her cold knees, instantly warming her legs.

His touch sent tingles through her skin, and she tried to focus. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Hell, she didn’t even remember most of her time in captivity. The most dangerous Ripper of them all, who claimed he was the president of the United States, had held her captive and drugged the hell out of her. “I don’t remember.”

“You remember.”

Yeah, but if she shared the agony of that time, she might reveal too much. “Listen. I was held captive and beaten a little bit, but that’s all. In fact, although it sucked, it wasn’t so bad until he used the drugs from the CIA to try and get me to cooperate.” As odd as it sounded, there had been food during her imprisonment, which was more than most people had these days.

“I saw the vials. Those kinds of drugs rarely get the desired results, so for him to shoot you up like that was crazy.”

“He’s a Ripper, which by definition means he’s insane.” The Rippers were survivors of the Scorpius infection who’d had their brains stripped and now lacked empathy. Typical serial killers ranging from the crazy wild ones to the brilliant deadly ones. Of course, there was nothing typical about a serial killer. “How do you know so much about those kinds of drugs?”

“Training in the military.” His sharply cut face didn’t give anything away.

Right. She didn’t want him probing into her life, so she should offer him the same courtesy, even though curiosity had always been her cross to bear. “Thank you for rescuing me, by the way.”

He shook his head. “I told you to stop thanking me.”

She couldn’t help it. Bret had planned to kill her, or worse, and her time had definitely run out. “Okay.”

Amusement darkened Raze’s eyes. “Any idea what he wanted from you so badly?”

She hunched into herself, her gaze dropping to her knees. “No.”

Silence ticked around the dismal apartment. She shivered.

“For an ex-FBI shrink, you’re a terrible liar.” Lazy contemplation leavened Raze’s low rumble.

She fought another shiver, this one from something other than fear. A tension, one she barely recognized as sexual, heated the air around her. Her gaze slammed up to his face.

He continued to scrutinize her, seemingly perfectly comfortable in doing so.

Heat rushed through her, rising and filling her cheeks. “Stop staring at me.”

“Can’t help it. You’re something to look at.”

Look who was talking. Raze Shadow was six and a half feet of hard-muscled badassery with sharply cut features and the most unique light blue eyes she’d ever seen. Add in the thick dark hair, the weird ability to move without making a sound, and an intensity only the most dangerous of people exhibited? Yeah. She’d stare at him all day if he remained unaware of it. But Raze noticed everything. “Stop looking at me.”

He straightened and leaned back against the wall. “There’s nowhere else to look.”

She shoved off the counter, and the second her feet touched the ground, pain sparked along the arch of her foot. “I appreciate your help tonight.”

He grinned, transforming his face from predatory to stunning. “That’s a brush off.”

Yeah, it was. “I should get some more sleep.” Not a chance in hell.

“You’re done sleeping.” He glanced toward the outside rainstorm. “I have another round of patrol to do—any chance you want to go outer territory and take in some air?”