Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(18)

“I don’t have the shot,” Tace muttered.

“I’m not sure of the shot,” Wyatt whispered. “Might hit the girl.”

Jax could make the shot, but Haylee had to move to the left. And even if he took out Cruz, there were six guns ready to plug the kid before she got to safety. “Work with me, or I’m going to make sure you die, and it ain’t gonna be slow. You know how personal this is.”

Wyatt stiffened, and Tace breathed out. They’d heard him threaten folks before, but apparently enough truth lived in his words that they believed him.

“You’re the one gonna die, mulo, and you’re the one who screwed up by leaving your brothers. Any sorrow is on you.” Cruz’s upper lip curled as hatred filled his eyes. “Give me the supplies, or you’re going to burn. You and the rainbow of pricks you’re standing with right now.”

Wyatt glanced over at Tace. “Rainbow? Fucking rainbow?” He settled his stance and steadied his weapon pointed toward Cruz. “I’m black and he’s white, dickhead,” he yelled over the fire. “There aren’t any colors here. Dumbass son of a bitch.”

Jax slowly turned his head. “You okay, now?”

Wyatt harrumphed. “Just hate dumb people. You weren’t a racist way back when, were you?”

“No.” Jax fought the urge to look up and back, feeling Lynne’s eyes on him. “I was all about brotherhood, safety, and survival. Didn’t give a shit about skin color then any more than I do now.”

“Good, because I tell y’all, it’s tough being black,” Tace drawled.

Wyatt snorted. “You’re the whitest white boy I’ve ever seen, Texas.”

Jax caught movement on the roof of the abandoned apartment building behind Cruz. In the distance, Jax could see Raze’s dark hair and odd blue eyes as he unpacked a rifle. “Sniper in position, but a kill shot won’t help the girl.” At the moment, Jax had no choice but to trust the new guy and hope he didn’t shoot him. Frustration heated his throat, and echoes pinged his mind. Gunshots, fire, blood. Remembered pain flared along his damaged arm and wrist. He shook his head, banishing the flashback to a different war, when he’d lost Frankie in a burning pile of metal. He’d failed, and his best friend had died an unbearable death. But now wasn’t the time.

“Mercury?” Wyatt muttered. “We need orders here.”

Jax nodded. He couldn’t fail. Not again.

“Haylee!” a female voice screamed from behind Jax.

He pivoted just in time to grab April Snyder and take her down to the torn asphalt. She fought him, kicking and punching, her elbows hitting the van, trying desperately to get to her kid. He flattened her until she couldn’t move.

She gasped for air, her eyes filling. At thirty-two or so, she had pretty blue eyes and wildly curly brown hair, now matted with dirt. “Haylee.”

“I know.” He kept his voice low. “If you want her back alive, you’ll go inside.” April’s presence did nothing but escalate the situation, and he had to shut her down and now. “That’s an order.”

Her lip firmed. “I’m not leaving my daughter.” She started to kick again.

Damn it. He needed Wyatt and Tace on the guns, and everyone who could fight was in position. If he left to drag the woman back, there was a good chance Cruz would get frustrated and just shoot the kid. “April. Last chance. Go inside so I can save your daughter.”

April got an arm free and punched him in the throat, struggling with everything she had.

He went cold as the mission took over. There was no choice. Scrambling off her, he turned her around, wrapping her in a headlock and increasing the pressure. She flopped and fought, but within seconds, she went limp.

He set her against the van and rose back up.

“Was better than knocking her out with a punch,” Wyatt said quietly.

Was it? Fuck. He hated this world. “Cruz? I’m done playing. Let the girl go, or I’ll blow your head off.”

Cruz ducked down behind the girl. “Send out medical supplies, and we can trade. Just a trade. For old time’s sake.”

The sarcasm hazed Jax’s vision. He struggled to think clearly and signaled Raze up on the roof, hoping to hell the guy knew what he was doing in a sniper position. “Tace, sweep left; Wyatt, right on my go.” He angled past Wyatt so he could run for the kid. He couldn’t crouch and aim, or Cruz would know. So he angled the weapon slightly to the side and appeared to relax his body.

Then he fired.





Chapter Seven





Despair is a mud-filled bog of doubt that one must swim through to reach hope.

—Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony




Standing on the bed, Lynne gasped, her head spinning, her stomach lurching as she peered down at the fight. Jax and his soldiers were outside the fence yelling at a bunch of guys hiding behind vehicles in a vacant lot across the street. A three-story brick building cast a wide shadow behind them. Most of the enemy wore bright purple.

One second, Mercury was talking, the next he was shooting. His shot, off his hip, hit the guy named Cruz in the arm.

He dropped the girl, and she plunged to the ground.

With bullets spraying from what seemed like every direction, Jax ran toward the girl in a crisscross pattern. Without missing a beat, he picked her up, cradling her, and shielding her with his body.