Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(88)

“The deluge will mask the sound of the trucks,” Raze said.

“Roger that.” Jax jumped into the truck. “Move, Lynne.”

She hurried around the truck to get inside and secure her seat belt out of habit.

“Off,” Jax said, igniting the engine.

She hesitated.

“If we need to move fast, you can’t have the belt on. You would’ve been shot had you been wearing it earlier.” A vein stood out on his neck.

She unclasped the belt. “You’re not accustomed to explaining your orders, are you?”

“No.” He glanced over his shoulder and then pushed the gearshift into DRIVE. “We found a map in a deserted delivery truck near the entrance, and there’s an alternate way back home. We need to avoid the on-ramp where we had the problem and will get off the 405 two exits earlier. I need your gun out and ready to fire, just in case.”

She unholstered her weapon as Jax drove into the rain. “The first time I shot anybody was when I shot Red.”

“I know.”

She winced as Jax gunned the truck out of the parking garage. “In a hurry?”

“Yes. If we don’t get back by nightfall, we’re screwed.” His jaw clenched again.

She tried to stretch her aching legs. “We have lights on the truck.”

“We can’t use lights. It’s bad enough we’re using engines, but at least the storm will mask the sound. If we used lights, we’d be attacked immediately.” His gaze seemed to see everywhere at once, although his head barely moved.

Fear roiled through her stomach. “How many, um, gangs do you think are out there?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Probably only a few with our numbers and organization. It’s the roving bands of Rippers and just plain assholes I’m more worried about. They kill first and just scavenge.”

She swallowed over a lump in her throat. “Yeah. My uncle and I ran into a few of those, but we managed to get by them without being hurt.” Why did some people try to establish rules and laws, and others tried to hurt people? It wasn’t just Rippers, either. “You’re a good driver.”

“Part of my military training.” He flashed a smile, easily veering around a series of crumpled motorcycles. “If we had more time, we’d syphon gas. Next time, though.” He braced himself as they reached an on-ramp. “Hold on.” Just as he pressed his foot down, an older van ripped in front of them. “Shit.” Jax swerved to the left, hitting a dented Kia.

Another van, this one black with a purple 20 emblazoned across the side, careened behind them to block the way they’d come.

“Fuck,” Jax said. “It’s the guys from earlier—I didn’t see the other side of the van. They must’ve followed us this way and waited until we showed ourselves again. Hold on.” He put the truck in REVERSE just as gunshots echoed through the storm. “Brace yourself.” He hit the van full on, sending it spinning. Then he shifted into DRIVE and flipped to the side, punching the gas. The truck roared into motion.

Lynne stopped breathing, one hand on the dash and the other gripping her gun. She turned wildly. “They’re coming.”

“Duck.” Jax grabbed the back of her head and shoved down.

She yelped.

Bullets went over her head to pierce and then shatter the front windshield.

“Shit.” Jax grabbed her shoulder and tugged her toward him. “I need you to drive.”

Her mouth dropped open. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision fuzzed. “I can’t.”

“You can.” He jerked her up and onto his lap. “Wheel.”

She dropped her gun onto the seat and grabbed the steering wheel, her foot pressing on top of his. “Oh God.”

He slid out from under her, turned, and aimed through the shattered back window. “Keep it steady.”

She pushed on the gas pedal and dodged around bricks and blocks of debris. Jax jerked toward her and grabbed the handle above the door to stabilize himself.

“Sorry. Do you think it’s Cruz?” she gasped.

“Not personally, but the idea that he has enough forces to stake out the local on-ramps concerns me.” Jax took a shot. “Especially since he knows about you.”

A pile of what looked like burned street signs blocked the middle of the road. “Hold on,” she yelled, yanking the wheel to the left and jumping the curb. Metal scraped and sparks flew as the truck lanced along the sidewalk. “Shit,” she muttered, swerving to get back on the road. The truck landed with a bump.

She looked into the rearview mirror to see the van on their ass. “Shoot them!” she screamed.

Jax gave her a look and braced his arm on the back of the seat. He lowered his chin and pulled the trigger.

The van jerked to the side, drove up a small Celica, and lifted into the air, spinning end over end to plow into an old movie theater. An explosion rocked the afternoon.

“Yeah,” Lynne yelled, hitting the gas again.

Jax turned around. “Drive steady.” He lifted his leg and kicked the rest of the windshield out of the way. Then he frowned. “Keep going and turn left into a residential area as soon as you can.”

Wind blasted into her face, but she could see better. Kind of. Dusk was falling, and soon they wouldn’t be able to see anything without using the lights. She gulped down fear, and her body began to shake as the adrenaline faded. As soon as she could, she took a sharp left, nearly slowing to a crawl in order to maneuver around a bunch of railroad spikes scattered across the concrete.