Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)

“Yes.” She settled her weight to keep balanced, her abdomen heating. “I practiced with my uncle as we made our way here.” Talking about Bruce hurt somewhere deep in her chest.

Jax glanced up, his hands going to her thighs. “Your uncle was trained?”

“Yes. He was retired NYPD,” she said, sadness hollowing out her stomach. “Helped me get out of the CDC, as you know, and then we ran.”

Jax’s brown eyes softened. “How did your uncle die?”

Lynne swallowed and bit down rage. “The Elite Force caught up with us in Arizona, and it was ugly.”

Jax breathed out and stood. “They killed your uncle?”

“Yes.” Tears sprang to Lynne’s eyes, and she batted them back.

“Give me the story,” Jax said, reaching for a pair of black leather boots. “But first things first. Try these on.”

She slipped her feet into the boots, which were only a size too large. “They’re okay. I can find socks.” Then she sighed. “We were camping outside Tucson with a nice community led by a retired sheriff, and word came in that government soldiers were nearing. A sniper took out Uncle Bruce right beside me.” She’d never forget the shock and slice of instant pain.

“How did you get away?”

She winced at the ache in her heart. “The sheriff had booby traps everywhere, and he kept the soldiers busy while I took off on a dirt bike.” Hell, she’d almost crashed into several trees, but she’d made it. “I moved at night and stayed with a nice group of people for a couple of nights in Lake Havasu City. Then I kept on running, trying to get here, taking back roads or no roads at all.” She’d been so scared and alone.

“I’m sorry about your uncle.” Jax placed a knife right inside each boot. “Did he train you in knives?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.” Jax removed a knife and put the handle in her palm. “Strike here, here, or upward here.” He pointed to his thigh, beneath his breastbone, and under his chin. “Just remember your knowledge of anatomy, and you’ll be fine. Go for the softest entry and the ones with major blood vessels or arteries.”

She hoped she didn’t get close enough in a fight to use a blade. “Understood.” Her hand shook when she replaced the knife in her boot.

Jax grasped a worn bulletproof vest and secured it over her chest. “This is the best one we have, but try not to get shot.”

She gulped.

He sighed. “Okay, so I want to work on hand-to-hand, but first we need to change your mind-set.”

The vest lay heavy over her chest, much heavier than she would’ve thought. How did soldiers and cops run with so much weight, in addition to weapons and supplies? “My mind-set is clear. I can kill if needed.” In fact, she had. She’d killed Red and his friend just the other day.

Jax slid a hand through her hair, holding her in place. “You’ve killed in self-defense. We need to change your mind-set from survival to attack mode.”

She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. Right now, you’re prepared if somebody comes at you. You’d attack in the name of getting to safety, right?”

She ran the words over her tongue. “Right.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t about keeping safe or defense. This is offense. If it’s you and the darkness, you’re the scary thing out there. You’re hunting, not trying to hide. Get it?”

Kind of. “I think so.”

Jax leaned in, his gaze intense. “Your whole life, you’re a good girl. Smart and strong—you know you can defend yourself if necessary. A guy breaks into your house, maybe you shoot him, maybe you get to safety to call the cops. Right?”

“Right.”

“Now”—Jax leaned in—“you’re the guy breaking in. There’s no safety, and there’s no cops. You’re the predator.”

Okay, that was a shift in thinking. “Is that how you do it? Fight wars?”

“Yes.” He released her and stepped back. “Your reasons may be honorable, and your purpose for fighting a good one, but in the heat of the battle? You have to be the one feared. Period.”

Lynne shrugged out of the vest and allowed Jax to remove her weapons belt. “Is that how you’ve survived?”

“Yes. Being the worst thing in the dark always means survival.” He dropped her weapons onto the couch. “How are you in hand-to-hand?”

“Terrible.” Traveling so much, they hadn’t had much time to work on those skills. “I know to strike first and try to debilitate my enemy so I can run. Hand-to-hand, with a guy trained like you, my best recourse is to get away.”

Jax nodded. “If you can’t get away, you get brutal. It’s the same mind-set. They should be scared of you and not the other way around.”

“I understand.” Of course, that was with humans. Rippers didn’t get scared, and neither would Bret. He had seemed to thrive on the fear around him. Lynne tried to force a smile. “How did it go with Byron and Jill?”

Jax winced. “She was scared to death of me. I had no idea.”

Wow, he was clueless with people. Yet somehow so sweet in how hard he was trying. Lynne leaned in and pressed her hands to his ripped abs. Even through the cotton T-shirt, powerful muscles filled her palms. “I’m sure she’s better now.”

“Maybe.” Jax ran his hands down Lynne’s arms. “I don’t have protection. Forgot to ask Tace for it.”

Lynne lifted her head to look in his eyes. “Did you think I was making a move?”

He smiled, transforming his face into dark masculine beauty. “I guess I was hoping.”

Man, she’d like to surprise him for once. So she dropped to her knees and reached for his belt.

His sharp intake of breath spurred her on, giving her confidence. “Lynne?” he asked, his voice rough.

She unzipped his jeans and tugged them down, humming at his already erect penis. “What I have in mind doesn’t require condoms.”





Chapter Twenty-Eight





Humanity and technology don’t necessarily go hand in hand.

—Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony




Jax peered out the windshield as dawn rose over the horizon. The truck was old but sturdy and full of gas. Lynne rode shotgun, while Raze and Byron followed in a battered Ford pickup. He hated using the fuel and being seen in vehicles, but they’d need the cargo room if they found anything.

They passed between a series of old markets, where a group of cats scoured the area, searching for food.

Stress crackled across the truck, coming from his woman. She’d been tense all morning. “Do you understand what to do if we get separated?” he asked.

She huffed out air, nerves all but shooting from her. “For the love of all that’s holy, yes, I understand. I have an IQ well above normal, and I get it. Stop giving me orders.”

Okay, definitely tense and nervous about the mission.

While he could sympathize, he needed her to focus. He drove around a downed red Ferrari, heading into the heart of what used to be L.A. “I give orders, and you take them. Period.” On missions, he couldn’t allow for any back talk.

She rolled her eyes. “You are so cranky.”

“I am not,” he returned, wincing when he ran over a monstrous pothole. “I just don’t like leaving the compound or using fuel, so we need this raid to go right.”

“Whatever.” She turned to watch out the window. “Most guys are at least halfway in a good mood after a blow job, you know.”

He blinked. It had been a hell of a blow job, and then he’d returned the favor before they grabbed a few hours of sleep. “Focus, Harmony.”

“Yep,” she muttered to herself. “Great mood.”

He skirted piles of debris. “The blow job was excellent, but if you did it for me, you missed the mark.”

Her head swung full force toward him. “Excuse me? If I did it for you? No, Jax. Believe me, we women wake up wanting more than anything to suck cock. In fact, I woke up that morning thinking, man, I’d love to suck on Jax’s dick until he comes down my throat. Yep. Big dreams there.”

He gave her a look, his mouth twitching. “I meant that if you wanted to decrease my tension, it’s impossible right now. But I did like your mouth around my cock.”

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