“Copy that.” Jax turned for the weapons lockers. “The four of us will go. Dead or alive, we need to find that cop.”
Chapter Twelve
My study of this bacterium shows the window closing on humanity’s short time of overcoming illnesses with drugs. We are rapidly returning to an era where a minor scratch can kill a man.
—Dr. Lynne Harmony,Notes on Scorpius
Tace kept to the storefronts, his gun sweeping the area. Glass crunched under his boots, and he tried to step lightly, but combat and weeds were tearing up the concrete of the former sidewalks. Being out in bright sunlight was a seriously bad idea. Sami kept to his six, while Raze and Jax covered the other side of the now silent street. Not too long ago, the road would’ve been jam-packed with people honking and getting pissed during congested traffic.
Traffic jams were a thing of the past.
As was safely walking down a sidewalk in the middle of the day.
He tapped the knife at his hip three times.
At some point, the crazy Rippers would kill themselves off. But the ingenious ones would last a while. A yelp echoed across the street, and he dropped into a fighting crouch, half in front of Sami.
An orange cat screeched and barreled past Raze, who flinched away.
“Sorry,” Raze mouthed.
Tace shook his head. “How can such a badass be afraid of cats?”
Sami snorted. “Speaking of nicknames, you need to stop calling me ‘baby,’” she whispered, pointing her gun into a former jewelry store. Empty velvet boxes were scattered across the floor, and all of the glass display cases had been smashed. Nothing sparkly could be seen.
“I know,” he said. What kind of jewelry did Sami like? Probably turquoise. She seemed like a turquoise girl. “We’re just colleagues, and I won’t call you ‘baby’ again.” He didn’t feel like a colleague. He felt like a guy who wanted to strip her nude and bend her over the nearest table. Wow. He actually felt something. Maybe his feelings were coming back. “Although I’m thinking we were shorted an entire hour last night, you know?”
“I didn’t think you noticed,” she said.
He frowned. Was she pouting? “I noticed.”
“Humph.”
He tried to focus and figure her out. Nope. He held up a hand to halt her at the corner, angled himself around, and surveyed an empty alley that stank like old death. Giving her hand signals, he hustled across the alley to the next sidewalk and pointed his gun into a defunct Laundromat. Vacant with dented washing machines. “Listen, Sami. You’re sending mixed signals, and my new and improved brain can’t read subtext. Do you want to fuck again or not?”
“Not,” she snapped.
“That’s what I thought.” Okay. She’d been clear as day. “Good, then.”
“Yeah. Good, then.” Her voice lowered.
Was she pissed? He shook his head. None of this was making any sense. They reached Luke’s Bar on the corner, and he peered in to see an old jukebox against the far wall. It had probably been too heavy for early looters to take. They reached the end of the corner, and he spotted the yellow truck in the alley. A quick whistle from him had Jax and Raze crossing the street.
Jax signaled, and Tace nodded, taking the right side with Sami. Jax and Raze took the left side.
They reached the vehicle and saw the scouts had gotten it right. Bullet holes along the passenger side and blood on the driver’s seat. Not a lot. “He could be okay,” Tace said, his focus narrowing.
Jax bent down to study the ground. “Blood trail.”
Tace hustled to the front. “Yep.” He followed the dots of blood deeper into the alley, which the building cast in shadow. The coolness felt good, but a chill swept down his back.
Steps led down to a basement entrance outside what used to be a flower shop. Something rustled. Garbage cans clashed.
Jax motioned, and Tace and Raze moved in unison, covering the steps.
“Damon?” Jax called out.
Silence.
