Sami ran behind him.
Jax reached Greyson outside the medical computer room. “Vanguard is under attack. I’m taking all my soldiers—you have to hold down the Bunker.”
Grey nodded. “My men have it. I’m coming with you.”
Jax paused. “No, but I appreciate the thought. We need the Bunker to remain secure in case forces are coming from other facilities. I’m leaving you vulnerable here, Grey.”
The Mercenary leader clapped Jax on the shoulder. “Fine. We’ll go into lockdown the second you leave. Let’s get whatever explosives and weapons you’ll need. You’re gonna love the bulletproof vests I found.” He nodded toward the far door. “We searched the parking garage adjacent to the building. In the bottom floor, there are two Humvees, fully armed and ready to go.”
Tace coughed. “Awesome. Let’s get them.”
Sami ran in and grabbed a wild stack of papers. “I’ve been compiling these for Lynne.” She hurried toward a fridge and grabbed one of the two remaining yellow vials. “Maybe she’ll know what to do with this.”
Tace’s vision wavered. “Put it back—we need it cool, I’d bet.”
She wavered.
“I’ll make it back here, Sami. Trust me.” Yet his entire left side was tingling.
She nodded and returned it to the fridge.
He reached for her hand. “Let’s go protect our home.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
President or not, he messed with the wrong men.
—Jax Mercury
The ride back to East Los Angeles was tense, fast, and nearly desperate. Tace kept point out the window while Jax drove like a lunatic, but Tace couldn’t blame him. If Sami had been the target of an attack, he’d lose his mind, too. She sat next to him, alternating between making soothing sounds and wincing when Jax drove over instead of around debris.
They drove furiously down the 101, an interstate they’d avoided until now. Too many rogue gangs controlled areas of it, but Jax’s orders to shoot anything that moved seemed to be working. They turned onto the quiet 405 with cars and trucks rotting and rusting on the sides.
The Humvee barreled through a series of crashed cars in the center lanes, tossing trucks aside like they were Tinkertoys. “We need more of these,” Tace murmured.
“It’s eating gas,” Jax replied, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “They’ve been retrofitted for city use, not like the ones we used in the desert. Anyway, they’ll do for today.”
Raze drove the other one, his recklessness matching Jax’s.
“Ahead,” Tace said to Jax.
Two black vans emblazoned with bright purple “20s” blocked the middle of the freeway with a series of crashed cars on either side.
“Get down.” Tace shoved Sami’s head down and leaned out the window, waiting for a target. “Don’t slow up.”
“No problem.” Jax pressed down hard on the gas.
Tace took aim and waited, the vision in his left eye fuzzing. Three men in purple ran around the far end of a van, automatic weapons already firing. He plugged one center mass, the second in the head, and then paused as Raze took out the third from his Humvee.
Tace slammed a hand over Sami’s chest to hold her to the seat.
Jax plowed between the vans, sending them spinning in opposite directions. Metal crunched, and tires shredded. “I love this thing,” he muttered.
Sami shoved Tace’s arm off. “Watch the ribs.”
“Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. His chest grew tight, and his balls hurt. He’d never figured that his balls would ache right before he died. Death was a heartless bitch. He snorted.
“What?” Sami asked.
