Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(67)

Purple caught Jax’s eye, he turned and fired, hitting his target in the chest. Gunfire erupted all around them. A spray of gunfire blazed out from a window in the top floor of the building across the way. Jax ducked back, down on his haunches. Mud splattered all around Wyatt.

Shit. Jax had to get him to safety and get that neck wound taken care of before it was too late. “Raze? Take my position.”

Sucking in air, Jax waited until Raze took his spot and then zigzagged toward his friend and tucked his gun in the back of his waist. He reached down and grabbed Wyatt by the armpits, dragging him up and pulling him around to the other side of the minivan. Fuck, he weighed a ton. Lynne followed, scattering bullets, covering his back.

It was the fucking bravest thing he’d ever seen.

He yanked her to his side to catch his breath. Blood caught his attention. He looked down at the river of red covering his torso. Had he been shot?

“Jax?” Lynne asked, her voice rising. “Oh, God.” She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and yanked up.

Nothing. He glanced down at his skin. No wounds. Realization slapped him. Almost in slow motion, he turned toward Wyatt, who lay gasping for breath. A black shirt covered Wyatt’s huge torso. Dark material didn’t show blood.

Jax reached for the hem and drew it up to reveal several holes in Wyatt’s gut. Blood spurted, and part of an intestine hung out. “Holy hell,” he muttered. The air whooshed from his lungs. He glanced frantically around. “Tace Justice? Now!” He lowered his voice. “It’s okay, Wyatt. It’s okay.”

Blood bubbled out of Wyatt’s mouth and dribbled down his chin.

Lynne patted Wyatt’s arm, her eyes filling with tears.

No. Oh, hell no. “Tace?” Jax bellowed.

Tace ran around the other side of the minivan as gunfire pierced the day. He slid onto his knees and reached Wyatt. “Neck?”

“No.” Jax drew up the shirt made heavy by blood.

Tace lifted his head and swallowed. The sound he made defied description but felt like agony. “Wyatt.”

“Fix him,” Jax said. “Now.”

Wyatt coughed and winced. “It’s okay, Jax.” He reached out and grabbed Jax’s head with one strong hand. “Remember what I said. They need you.” He coughed again, and blood spurted over Jax’s chin to mingle with the rain.

Jax gripped Wyatt’s arm and turned to Tace. “Fix him,” he repeated.

Tace’s blue eyes cut through the smoke, full of sorrow. Regret. Jax had seen the look before, he’d felt the look in a desert hell across the world. He hadn’t thought he’d see it now.

“Wyatt, you’re a good friend,” Tace said somberly, leaning toward the former football star. “I never told you this, but I found one of your trading cards while out scouting one night.” He reached for his back pocket to draw out a worn and weathered card of Wyatt in his football uniform. “I was gonna give it to you for your birthday.”

Wyatt grinned bloody teeth. “You were a fan,” he gasped out.

Tace clasped his other arm. “I am now.” His eyes filled. “I’m sorry.”

“No!” Jax exploded. “No sorry. Fucking fix this.”

Wyatt’s chest heaved, and his hold tightened. He closed his eyes and then reopened them. He tried to speak, but only bubbles of blood slid out.

Pain ripped through Jax’s chest, compressing his lungs. He looked in Wyatt’s steady eyes. “You’re a great friend and soldier,” he said.

“Jax,” Wyatt whispered.

Jax leaned forward, tears falling from his eyes, turning his ear to Wyatt’s mouth. “What?”

“Do-don’t do this . . . a-alone,” Wyatt whispered, his breath already cold against Jax’s skin. “Life. Not worth it . . . a-lone.”

Jax straightened, his vision blurry, and nodded.

Wyatt smiled, his eyes unfocusing. “I’m gonna see my baby girl, Jax.” He stiffened, a groan billowing up. His body convulsed, once and again, and then went limp. A death rattle cleared his lungs, and he went still. Eyes staring at the sky, he ceased to be.

Jax coughed back a sob. His hand shaking, he reached forward and closed Wyatt’s eyes. “Wyatt.” Jax yanked his buddy close, holding him tight, his hands fisting in the back of Wyatt’s shirt. “I’m sorry.” Gently, with as much care as he could muster, he laid down his fallen friend. His head lifted. Rage warmed him until the burn filled his entire body. Turning, he grabbed the picture, the trading card, from Tace. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Tace said, jaw firming.

Jax shot to his feet. “Cover me.”

Lynne stood and grabbed his shirt. “Wait a minute—”

He manacled her biceps and lifted her up on her toes. “Get inside and tend to the wounded. Now.” Turning her, he shoved her toward the building. Then he looked at Tace. “I’ll take the east opening and then head to the apartment building across the way. Make sure I’m covered.”

Tace reached down and took Wyatt’s automatic, his face losing all expression. “I’ve got you.”

“Hey buddy,” Cruz called out through the gunfire. “Don’t tell me I just killed another brother of yours.”

Jax stilled. Everything in him quieted. “He’ll die for killing both Marcus and Wyatt.”