“She’s healing like the rest of us,” Tace said slowly. “Let’s keep her really busy.”
Sami nodded. “Little Lena is sticking close to her, and since they’ve already bonded, that seems to be helping, too. We’re low on food. Maybe six months’ supply left if we don’t find a way to replenish it.” She played with a chewed-up pencil on the table. “Morale is down. Way down. Wyatt was the counselor, the person everybody went to with problems or issues or just to talk.” She lifted her head, brown eyes burning. “You need to step in with some sort of reassurance.”
Jax blinked. “Reassurance? About what? We have Twenty regrouping now, two more radical groups in L.A. wanting our resources, the Elite Force on my ass, and a group population where some folks haven’t contracted Scorpius and many other people are carriers of it. What the fuck do you want me to tell them?”
“Anything,” Sami whispered, her gaze dropping. “Give them some sort of hope.”
Bewilderment filled Jax’s eyes along with a healthy dose of anger. “Hope about what?”
Lynne’s heart hurt. “If you have no hope, why do you fight so hard?”
Jax switched his powerful gaze to her. “Because there’s something to fight, and those people can’t survive on their own.”
Lynne blinked. If he didn’t know the people, why fight for them?
Jax slipped the marker in his pocket. “Wyatt?”
The room stilled. Pain, nearly palpable, filled the air. Jax cleared his throat. “Sorry. I meant Raze. Report.”
Raze’s stoic expression didn’t twitch. “Ammunitions are way down. We wasted too many rounds fighting Twenty, and the civilians need better training. Fuel is low, and it’s time to send scouts out with screwdrivers and gas cans.”
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.”
Manny took his measure, eyes sober, and then he nodded at Jill. “Go with Jax, sweetheart. If he’s mean to you, I’ll kill him in his sleep.”
Jax wanted to smile, but Manny was probably telling the truth. “Follow me.” He turned and crossed through the rec room/dining hall to the small war room.
Jill followed him, not making a sound, and then took a seat at the table, her gaze down.
He faltered and shut the door, dragging a chair to sit on. Wyatt would normally do this shit, but Wyatt was gone. The sharpness of the pang in Jax’s heart caught his breath. He slowly released his lungs. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
Her head lifted, and her lips trembled. “Yes?”
That’s what he’d figured. “Listen, honey. I just want to make sure you’re feeling okay and you know you can reach out if you need help. I’ve never had a kid, so I can’t offer advice, but a lot of people here have, and you might need help. I’ll find baby food somewhere.” They had nine months, right?
She nodded, her hands clinging to each other. Tears filled her eyes. “We didn’t mean to.”
Yeah. Words spoken by teens for eons. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable as hell. “Well, you know how it happened? Right?”
Her head jerked, and she giggled. She slapped a hand over her mouth, but mirth filled her eyes.