“Tell Lynne she has about fifteen minutes to get her butt to bed, or I’m coming for her.” Jax turned and carried the box up the stairs.
Sami swallowed. “I’ll, ah, talk to you tomorrow.” She pivoted and all but ran for the stairway.
“Yeah, you will,” Tace murmured. He wanted to stop her, to make her face him, but he could barely see. All right. He could figure this out. He hustled through the vacant soup kitchen and into his domain, the former free clinic. Light flickered down the hallway, so he skirted the reception area and high-tailed it to Lynne’s makeshift lab. “Harmony?” he asked.
She looked up from a stack of papers, her green eyes tired, her lips pursed. The halogen lantern next to her cast an eerie blue glow over her face that matched the one from her T-shirt. “You’re back.” She smiled. “How did it go?”
He glanced behind him and then stepped inside. “I need help with a patient.”
She straightened. “You’re the doctor here. What’s going on?”
“You’ve studied Scorpius longer than any of us have.” He yanked out a plastic chair and dropped into it. “I’m not sure what’s going on. During your initial research, before communications went down, had any Scorpius survivors gotten episodes?”
“Episodes?” Lynne shoved blond hair out of her face and leaned toward him. “What does that entail?”
“Weakness in limbs, blurry vision, possible unconsciousness.” He swallowed.
She frowned. “I don’t think so, but everyone had different symptoms with the fever. How long has your patient been infected?”
“A few weeks,” he said.
She lifted her chin, her intelligent gaze narrowing. “Ah.”
“Isn’t me,” he countered quickly. There was no question her loyalty was to Jax, and she’d tell him if one of his top lieutenants was having episodes. But Tace couldn’t let Sami out on missions without him. All of a sudden, more than ever, he needed to cover her back. “It’s a scavenger, one of the best, and I’m worried what will happen to him if we send him out.” Tace purposely made the patient a male in case sex became relevant.
Lynne gestured toward the series of boxes in the corner. “There are old patient studies over there, if you want to scour through them. Everything happened so quickly with Scorpius that we just don’t know much. It’s not impossible that there will be long-term repercussions with a bacteria like this. But I haven’t heard of anybody in Vanguard dealing with symptoms like that. Just the headaches.”
“Yeah.” The headaches were a killer. Migraines to the nth power, and they didn’t seem to abate after time. “I’ll go through the patient records tomorrow.” He was too far away from Sami. What if she needed help? He stood and held out a hand. “I promised Jax I’d bring you with me.”
Lynne scrunched up her face. “How late is it?”
“It’s beyond late to early,” Tace said.
Lynne winced and stood, grasping the lantern. “I guess I could sleep. What did you learn in Merc territory?”
He escorted her out of the clinic and through the soup kitchen to the stairs. She only tripped twice, which was a record for her. “They have a lot of supplies, I think. But they’re also all soldiers prepared to fight. If Jax orders a hit, we’re going to lose a lot of people.” Sami couldn’t go. He just couldn’t let her put herself in danger like that.
What was wrong with him?
He’d been fighting by her side for months. Hell, until the other night, she’d kicked his butt every time. Had things shifted when he’d made her tap out? Or had they changed because they’d had sex? Or was it him? Was he becoming obsessed?
They climbed the stairs, and he left Lynne at her quarters. The light disappeared when she shut her door. His eyes adjusted, and he continued down the dismal hallway, pausing in front of Sami’s door. Was it locked? It had better be locked.
He flattened his hand on the rough metal and leaned in, listening.
Nothing.
She was probably asleep. So close, though. He could open the door and be inside with her, surrounded by her.
No.
He was starting to freak himself the hell out. Turning, he headed down three doorways to the room at the end and shoved inside. Moonlight poured in the window at the far end of the apartment, more than lighting his way. His ugly beige bedspread was still in place. Bummer.
Stomping inside, he set his jacket on a broken chair and continued to drop onto the perfectly made bed. His head ached at the base, and the pain radiated down his back.
But at least he wasn’t numb anywhere. Yet.
He breathed in and out slowly, counting balloons. Then dogs. Then cats. Then Sami’s different expressions. There were hundreds. After about an hour, he rolled from the bed, smoothed out all the lines, and moved to the couch, extending his legs to the coffee table.
