Tace Justice followed Sami down the stairs to the main gym, trying not to notice how tight her ass looked in the yoga pants. They’d been training together for months, and lately something felt different.

Hell. He was different.

The second she reached the mat, she turned and swept his legs out from under him. He smacked the mats and rolled. Damn it.

She bounced back, her hair flying, her smile wide. “When are you going to be prepared?”

Tace circled her, looking for an opening. She’d been kicking his butt for eons, and he’d had enough. It was time to teach the little karate expert a lesson, but he wasn’t quite as fast as he wanted to be. Not yet. “You’re asking for it.” He dodged in with a right cross.

She slid back easily and kicked up, nailing him under the chin.

His head jerked back, and stars exploded behind his eyes. “Damn it, Sami,” he growled.

She chuckled.

He shook his head, trying to get his bearings. She moved, and he saw what she planned before she did it. As she struck with a straight on punch, he caught her fist in his hand. The sound of flesh on flesh echoed throughout the room.

Her pretty brown eyes widened, and she jerked free. A stream of irritated Spanish flowed from her full mouth.

He tried not to smile.

“You’re getting faster,” she murmured, dancing on the mats.

Faster, smarter, and stronger. “Hmmm,” he agreed, focusing on her feet. All of a sudden, he could read her body language better.

“What do you think of Raze?” she asked, using a roundhouse kick to nail his ribs.

Pain exploded across Tace’s torso. He hadn’t seen that one coming, now had he? “He’s fine.” Truthfully, Tace didn’t give a shit right now.

“I like him, but he has secrets.”

Heat filled Tace’s esophagus. “You like him?” Why would that bother Tace?

Sami rolled her eyes. “Not like him, like him. He’s good in a fight, and he’s helpful. Not sure about the secrets, though.”

“Look who’s talking.” Tace swept with his left leg and caught her ankle.

She went down, rolled, and kicked up to his knee.

It buckled, and he went down, landing hard.

She jumped and perched on his chest, pressing both knees into his shoulders. “Pinned.”

Damn it. One of these days, he was going to teach her a lesson. Apparently this wasn’t the day. “If you need help training Lynne or Vinnie later, let me know.” Tace gave Sami the victory and tapped the mat.

She grinned and rolled off him. “I could use the help, to be honest. Neither one of them has a clue how to fight, and the president is definitely coming for them.” She held a hand out to help him up.

Tace accepted the hand. This time. “I want a rematch tomorrow,” he murmured.

She shrugged and headed for the doorway, her hips swaying. “Your funeral.”

Maybe. Maybe not.

President Bret Atherton finished his tenth set of pushups, moving with perfect precision and control. He’d always kept in shape, but since healing from the Scorpius bacterium, he’d become stronger and faster.

As had his enemies.

“Sir?” Vice President Lake strode into the makeshift gym, his jeans perfectly pressed. “I debriefed our scouts and have much to report.”

Why in the world did the man spend time pressing pants? When Bret had ordered his men to reactivate the steam generators used by the mansion owners before commercial power became available, he was more concerned with light and protection than fashion. He gracefully rose and wiped his face with a towel, his gaze going to stunning Lake Tahoe outside. “You were right about this place.”

“Yes, sir.”

The lake in May sparkled with a chill, and that was fine with Bret. The world had gone cold.

He turned and shucked his sweats and shirt for faded jeans and a black button-down shirt. While he sometimes still wore suits for occasions, he liked to be comfortable, so jeans were his go-to. After this meeting he’d take a long, hot shower. His enemies didn’t have heated showers, now did they?

Bret moved out of the gym, through a gathering room, and into what now served as a conference room. During the mansion’s heyday, the long, paneled space had been a dining room for the rich. The family who’d owned the mansion had eventually sold it to the California Park service, and then it had become a place for weddings, gatherings, and tourists.

With acreage, the lake, and many outbuildings, the mansion was the perfect place for his western headquarters. Plus, it was close to Vanguard territory, the Mercenaries, Twenty, two large farms, and the spot where he suspected the Bunker to be.

He had to find that place.

An aide—a pretty one with very long legs—handed him a ledger with perfect neat rows. “Sir.” She turned on a heel and clip-clopped in the opposite direction.

He continued past the conference room to his office, which had served as the first owner’s study. Dark paneling covered the walls and ceilings in intricate designs, while two full walls of windows opened to incredible views of the lake and surrounding trees. He sat in an antique leather chair and set his papers on the mahogany desk.

Lake sat across from him.

“How many scouts have returned?” Bret asked.

“Seven so far, sir.” Lake rested his wrists on the wooden arms of his guest chair, his posture loose, his feet flat on the floor.

Bret lifted an eyebrow. “From that position, how quickly can you be up and on the attack?”

“Seconds,” Lake said without a pause. “I won’t let anybody get to you. Ever.”

Not for the first time, Bret wondered if he could take Lake in a fight now that Scorpius had granted him new strength and speed. “Please report.”

Lake’s eyes darkened as if he followed Bret’s thoughts. “The first scout reported back from Twenty. They launched a retaliatory attack on the Vanguard headquarters, much as we suggested, but the attackers failed to return with intel.”

Irritation clawed up Bret’s esophagus. “We have no new intel?”

“No, sir.”

Damn it. “How am I going to get Lynne and Vivienne back without proper intel regarding Vanguard?” Those Twenty gang members were morons.

Frown lines marred Lake’s too-smooth face. “I understand you’ve always wanted Dr. Harmony back for personal reasons, but I thought you’d planned to kill Dr. Wellington anyway.”

Bret pressed his lips together. “Lynne is mine, and I need her expertise once we find the Bunker.” The woman had to pay for defying him first, though. “Dr. Wellington is psychic and much smarter than I gave her credit for. I believe she can help me to find the Bunker.” Plus, he had promised he’d kill her, and he always kept his promises. He’d held her captive for weeks, and she hadn’t come close to breaking. He had to admire that in a woman.

Lake nodded. “There’s more. I had a scout reach out to a survivor camp outside of Vegas, and Jax Mercury is circulating drawings of his brother, who’s missing.”

Bret paused. “Did you obtain a picture?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Have all of our resources looking for the man, too. We want to find him before Mercury does. Wouldn’t that be an excellent bargaining chip.”

Lake smiled. “Of course. Also, we had two scouts keeping close track of the Mercenaries, and I’m having them draw out their territory along the coastline. The Mercs have taken over the pier, several nurseries, and an agricultural research center at UC Santa Barbara.”

Bret leaned forward. “They have food.”

“Not only do they have food, but they have the means to grow more. The greenhouses in that region are phenomenal.” Lake eyed the snow still frosting part of the grounds outside. “Two other scouts found farms, and we’ll discuss them later, but you requested concrete news on the Mercs.”

“Yes. Vanguard is the enemy of the United States, and I need to know if the Mercs will join with us, or if they must be destroyed as well.” Bret flexed his left hand. He’d practiced boxing with Lake the night before, and bruises had formed.

“The Mercs are strong, and the compound is regulated with military precision. Our scouts captured one of the soldiers and, after some persuading, he talked. Apparently the Mercs have a mole in the Vanguard territory.”

Bret sat up. “Excuse me?”

“Yes.” Lake almost smiled. “Greyson Storm, the leader of the Mercs, has acquired the sister of a Vanguard elite soldier. Raze Shadow is his name.”

“Shadow.” Bret rubbed his chin. “He’s a soldier with Vanguard?”

Lake shook his head. “Shadow is posing as a Vanguard soldier, and he’s supposed to trade Dr. Wellington for his sister sometime later this week.”

“Where’s the sister being held?” Bret asked.

“Unknown at this point.”

“Plans?” Bret asked.

Lake cleared his throat. “I’ve sent a force of six men to Mercenary territory to discover the location of the woman. If there’s an easy grab, I told them to take her and come here.”

“She’ll probably help our men. She’s got to be in hell with the Mercs, no question.” Bret flipped the page of his notebook. “Continue your report.”

Maureen Shadow peered out at the moonlight glimmering on the too-calm Pacific ocean. Sure, waves rolled in, but after the continuous rain of the last month, the peacefulness seemed like a warning. Like a prelude to an explosion.

She sat on her bed in what was once a luxurious villa that probably had rented for twenty thousand dollars a week. Soothing beach colors decorated her plush room, from the expensive duvet cover to the landscapes covering the walls. Her sliding glass door was open, leading out to the spacious deck and down to the beach. The scents of salt and sand blew inside. A palmlike fan took up most of the ceiling, silent and unused.

She was using candles to light the room, although there were generators in case of emergency. Wasn’t the entire world one big emergency zone now?

Not too long ago, she would’ve been taking in a movie with a bunch of friends at such a time. Her friends were dead, and movies were gone. She rubbed her chest above her heart. Losing so many good people had hurt, and the pain had yet to go away. Maybe it never would.

A sharp rap on her door jerked her out of her head. “You still up?” a male voice called.

She eyed the door. Perhaps if she pretended to be asleep, he would leave her the hell alone. She just couldn’t get a take on him, and that meant he was beyond her experience. A bad guy or an evil one.

“I know you’re up. Open the door, or I will.” Greyson Storm didn’t bluff, and it wouldn’t take much for his size fourteen boot to kick open the door.

“It’s unlocked,” she snapped, her entire body going into overdrive. The knife she’d stolen from a soldier the day before lay heavy against her thigh. She’d have to strike fast and go for a vulnerable soft spot when she finally decided to use it. But she had yet to see either a vulnerable or a soft area to Greyson. No way would she win a fight with him, so she should probably get rid of the Mercenary leader and find somebody else to fight. A guard to the north. Her captors wouldn’t expect her to run to the north.

The door opened. “The cooks said you missed dinner earlier.” He stepped inside, the master of the castle, tall and broad. Dangerous.

She met his gaze, rethinking her plan. If she could incapacitate him, just for a couple of hours, she could possibly get free. Should she jump up and stab him? Or wait until he got closer? She’d never stabbed anybody before. Starting with the most dangerous man she’d ever met didn’t seem like a great idea, but she was rapidly running out of options. “What?” she asked when he continued to look at her.

“I asked if you’d eaten dinner,” he said.

“No. I’m not hungry.”

His eyes, an odd combination of gray and green, focused on her. “Are you ill?”

“No.”

His chin lifted. Once again, he hadn’t bothered to shave, and dark whiskers shadowed his chin. On Greyson, the look was edgy and masculine. “We’re not going through this again, are we?”

She rolled her eyes. Since her captivity, she’d tried everything from escaping to refusing to eat, and he’d thwarted her at every turn. “I’m just not hungry, Grey. Stop being a dick.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Name-calling is a new one for you.”

So was attempted murder. Or rather murder, if she succeeded. “You are a dick, and I’m sick of playing nice.”

He smiled, then, a flash of white against his bronze face. Shockingly handsome in an I’m-about-to-kill-you way, the smile lent a certain charm to the sense of danger surrounding him. “This has been you playing nice? You knocked two of my guys out yesterday.”

“They should’ve been concentrating on guarding the perimeter,” she said primly. “They’re both fine, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but they want your blood. Bad.” Amusement competed with the warning in his eyes.

They probably did want to retaliate. She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Then I suggest you control your men. I doubt my brother will make that trade you want so badly if I’m damaged.” She hoped. There weren’t any other women in the Mercenary camp, and she’d caught more than one of the men staring at her tits. Only Greyson’s firm leash on his men had kept her safe, and she knew it.

“Oh, Raze will take you damaged, and don’t you forget it,” Greyson said silkily, his broad form filling the entire doorway.

She forced a smile. “I think you’re full of shit.” Her second curse word in an hour. It was a new record for her.

He stepped into the room, bringing the scent of ocean and man. “You’re pushing tonight, pretty girl.”

She stood and stepped his way, lifting her chin. For two weeks, she’d been held captive, and not once had he lifted a hand to her. In fact, he made sure she had privacy and food. Yet something about him inspired caution—even fear. In a world full of predators, Greyson Storm stood out as something dangerous.

She drew in air. “Do you think I don’t hear what goes on? What you did with those three teenage refugees yesterday who wanted asylum?” Three girls, all around fourteen years old and prepared to do whatever they had to do for food and shelter. “I heard every word.” She’d been sick about it ever since and needed to understand what had happened to those girls.

He breathed out, his nostrils flaring. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a dangerous world, and they’re lucky to have survived this long.”

Oh, she was finished being frightened by him. She moved toward him, the knife in her hand hidden by her thigh. “Where are the girls?” she hissed.

Greyson’s face went blank.

She shivered but held her ground.

“Like I said, you don’t know anything.” He towered over her by at least a foot, his body harder than rock. A vein lined the hard cords of his neck. “I suggest you worry about yourself.”

She’d never been able to do that, and she needed him pissed so he’d go and leave her alone. Then she’d put her plan into motion and attack another guard. She wouldn’t win against him. “I know you’re a monster, Grey. How much of one?” When he’d kidnapped her, he’d done so easily and without causing a bruise. Would he have allowed those young girls to be harmed? It was unthinkable, but she didn’t know him. Not at all.

He leaned down until his nose almost touched hers. “Your only concern is yourself. For the rest of it, mind your own damn business.”

“I very well might kill you.” If she moved an inch, his mouth would be on hers. She immediately shook the thought away. “Because there is no way my brother will bring Vinnie Wellington here to you. He wouldn’t sacrifice an innocent woman. Not even to save me.”

His gaze bored into hers. “I disagree. I barely knew your brother in the military, but his loyalty was well understood. I bet he’d do anything for his baby sister.”

“Why do you want this woman so badly?” Maureen asked for the umpteenth time.

“None of your business.”

Was this a lover’s spat? The idea kicked Maureen in the stomach, and she had no clue why. “If you lost your girlfriend, that’s your own damn problem. Leave me and my family out of it.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’ve never met the woman, so there’s no need to sound jealous, pet.”

Fire rushed through her, sparking temper. “Screw you, Greyson.”

“It occurs to me,” he said thoughtfully, “that you’re picking a fight right now. You did the same thing yesterday, I stormed off, and then you attacked two of the guards. What are you planning right now?”

She stepped back and out of his atmosphere. Her lungs seized. “Nothing.”

“Then I suggest you make a move with that knife in your hand. Let’s see where we end up, shall we?” On the last, he lunged.