Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(80)

Lynne breathed out. Her uncle had taught her how to pierce a gas can and empty the tank in less than two minutes. “I’m actually pretty good at that.”

Raze lifted an eyebrow.

Jax shook his head. “We need you on the Myriad documents and materials once we get them. Your brain is the key to Scorpius, and that has to be your focus.”

Her concentration was on getting the hell out of the area before Bret showed up. “I understand,” she murmured.

“Good. Tace and Sami, you can stay for the briefing if you want, but you’re remaining here to secure the compound tomorrow morning.” Jax took the lid off the blue marker. “Raze, Lynne, and I will scout Myriad. I think we should take Byron. The kid’s a genius with computer stuff, and maybe he’ll see some wires or components we could use.”

Raze nodded. “I’ll have him suited up and mentally prepared.”

Tace tapped his fingers on the table. “Byron is the father of the baby, by the way.”

So much for being a genius.

Jax snarled. “And he couldn’t figure out to sheathe his dick? For fuck’s sake. We trust that kid with the ham radio.”

“He’s seventeen,” Raze said simply.

Lynne winced. “You should probably talk to him, Jax. Reassure him that it’s okay. He’ll need that, as will Jill.”

Jax lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not his mom.”

“His mom is probably dead,” Lynne shot back.

Jax turned toward the board, anger vibrating down his back. “My focus is strategy. We leave at first light, so let’s get a plan in our heads.” He began to draw.

Jax left Lynne with Sami to eat what looked like broth and smelled like old socks. The cooks did their best, but spices had run out eons ago. At some point, he was going to have to move them all north to a place where they could both farm and hunt. In L.A., the only thing to hunt was people. For now, he had a seventeen-year-old’s ass to kick. As much as he hated it, with Wyatt gone, he had to talk to the kids—at least the ones working in headquarters.

He found Byron in the back storage room near the ham radio, cutting apart wires that might’ve gone to a speaker at some point. “What the holy fuck were you thinking?” Jax exploded, slamming the door behind him.

Byron jumped, and his wire cutters spun across the room. Swallowing audibly, he stood. “I wasn’t.”

Jax coughed out a laugh. “That’s fucking obvious.”

The kid kept his gaze, although his body was braced to stand up to somebody bigger and meaner. At seventeen, he was about five foot nine with sandy hair and skinny arms. “I love her.”

Oh God. Fucking goddamn fucking kids. Jax leaned back against the door and tried to cool his temper. “If you love her,” he began evenly, “you’d protect her and not knock her up when we’re in a fucking war. Do you have any idea how vulnerable you’ve made her?” The irony of the question wasn’t lost on him. He’d been worse than a horny teenager the other night with Lynne and hadn’t taken precautions.

The idea of her being pregnant weakened his knees, but she’d been pretty sure of her cycle. Thank God.

“Yes.” Terror filled Byron’s eyes. “I know exactly how vulnerable I’ve made Jill. Them.” His shoulders slumped. “She’s all I’ve got.”

Oh, man. Jax rubbed his chin, his gut churning. “Not true. You have more than her.” A baby. So far, the youngest survivor they’d brought in was at least six years old. Where the fuck was he going to find baby food? “You have all of us, but get this.” He stepped in and looked down. “You are now responsible for both her and the baby. There’s no finding somebody else, no thinking it’s too much, no trying to escape. They. Are. Yours.”

“I know.” Byron slid his glasses up his nose.

Jax breathed out. “Good. Have either you or Jill been infected by Scorpius?”

“Yeah. We’ve both survived it.” Byron frowned. “Why?”

Well, shit. No need to scare the kid yet, and Jax didn’t have to wonder about sequestering Jill from Scorpius exposure now. “Just asking. You’re coming on the mission tomorrow morning, scouting for shit like this.” He gestured around. “Then you train every day for two hours in hand-to-hand, guns, and knives. Every day.”

Byron swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes.”

“You just said good-bye to your childhood, kid.” Jax turned and opened the door.

“Jax?”

“What?” Jax asked, not turning around.

“I said good-bye to my childhood when I buried my parents and baby sister five months ago,” Byron said.

Jax closed his eyes. “I know,” he said softly, exiting the room. He checked on Tace in the infirmary and then stalked into what passed for a kitchen to find Jill Sanderson scrubbing a pot while several others cleaned and put away dishes. He recognized her when he saw her. Long black hair, dark eyes, Korean features. Tiny girl—too tiny. He cleared his throat. “Jill? I’d like a moment, please.”

Her eyes widened and she dropped the pot. Terror crossed her face.

Manny turned around, suds up to his elbows, hands in another pot. “Leave her alone.”

Jax sighed out. “She doesn’t need a mother hen, Manny. Trust me.”