Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(85)

“So you called your uncle?” Jax asked softly, watching some shadows in the crumbling apartment building to his left.

Lynne leaned over to look out his window. “Rippers?”

“Maybe. You called your uncle?”

Lynne settled back in her seat. “We’d met up at my parents’ funeral months before and had kept in touch. The second Bret killed the sitting president, I called Uncle Bruce from a lab phone. Phones were still working at that point. We had a plan in place.”

“Your plan was to get to me.” That still didn’t make sense.

“My ultimate plan was to find Myriad, to prevent Bret from getting their research. Once I discovered Myriad was in L.A. somewhere, you became a necessary stop because if I could get your help, I could keep Bret off me long enough to get there. And I’d hoped through your raiding that you’d found the location of Myriad, even if you didn’t quite know what you had. Which was what happened, really. Although I certainly didn’t expect to lose Uncle Bruce, and I didn’t expect to choose to be in your bed.”

Choose. It was an important distinction. “I’m glad you did.”

A half-smile played around her mouth. “So am I.” She cleared her throat. “Make me a promise.”

“Another one?” he asked, warning tickling the base of his neck.

“Yeah. My chances of longevity aren’t good—either from enemies or from this blue heart we haven’t figured out. When I, ah, go . . . don’t regret us. Okay?” She kept her gaze out the window and not on him.

The words hit his chest harder than a hammer attack he’d lived through once. The woman didn’t want to be a mistake in his life. Every once in a while, she showed a sweetness that flayed him through and through. “I won’t regret us, and I’m not letting you die.” He hadn’t connected with a woman the way he had with Lynne, well, ever. It didn’t make sense, and they sure as shit didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t letting anybody kill her. “You can trust me.”

“I do,” she sighed. “I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

“So you and your uncle made it out of D.C.”

Lynne set her head back on the torn headrest. “Yes. At first I was trying to find my friend Nora, because I thought she might help me get to you. But when there was no sign of her, Uncle Bruce and I headed west.”

“Who’s Nora?”

“Nora McDougall. She’s a microbiologist and my best friend. When Scorpius got bad, I brought her in to help with the research.”

Jax frowned, memories surfacing. “McDougall? Any relation to Deke McDougall?” He had been the president’s first choice for military defense against Scorpius and had briefly given a frightened nation hope with his Brigade.

“Yes. Deke is her husband.” Lynne snorted. “I forced their marriage when I was in a hospital bed. To protect my friend.”

Jax remembered seeing McDougall on television while there still was television. The guy was a huge former soldier with a Scottish accent. “Any idea where McDougall is now?” If Lake was speaking for the president, it didn’t look good for Lynne’s old friends.

“No.” Lynne sighed. “But Deke is one of the toughest guys I’ve ever met, and he would do anything to protect Nora. She’s alive. I just know it.”

“Okay.” Jax doubted it, but why take away any ounce of hope? He pulled over in a deserted parking lot and waited for Raze to draw up alongside, both rolling down windows. “We can probably get on the freeway. What do you think?”

Raze frowned. “It’s risky. Even if we find an on-ramp that’s not blocked by abandoned cars, once we’re on the 405, we could get stuck. A lot of people tried to make it out of the city and abandoned their cars when they ran out of gas.”

“Then finding an off-ramp with maneuverability might be a problem.” Jax glanced around the empty neighborhood, his instincts humming. “But sticking to back roads opens us up to Rippers and small gangs. We need to get to Myriad and back home before darkness falls.” He calculated the risk and reward. “We’re going for the 405. Follow me.” He waited for Raze’s nod before rolling up his window. “It’s our best chance,” he said to Lynne.

“Your instincts are good,” she said.

Shit, he hoped so.

He drove the truck back onto the road and skirted several abandoned cars before reaching the nearest on-ramp. Cars and trucks littered the side, but if he drove slowly, he could maneuver between several. Just as he reached the top, his gut boiled. A line of silver compacts barred the entrance.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

Gunshots echoed, and metal tinged.

Adrenaline blew through his veins. “Get down.” He grabbed Lynne’s head and threw her onto the floor.

She yelped and held her gun, breath panting out.

Jax gunned the truck straight at the cars, shoving himself down in the seat. Gunfire sprayed the truck. The back window shattered, and glass cut the back of his neck. He clamped a hand on Lynne’s shoulder, shoving her down farther and trying to keep her somewhat stable. “Hold on, baby,” he muttered, pressing his foot to the floor.

He plowed into the intersection of two cars, sending them both spiraling away. The impact threw him back into the seat. Even with his hold, Lynne’s head smacked into the glove box. Releasing her, he slammed both hands on the wheel to keep the truck from fishtailing. More bullets pinged into the back of the truck.