The morning was already hot, damn it. Damon’s ribs felt as if they had a hammer wedged between them, forcing them apart. He ignored the pain and made his way into the war room, a half-eaten Pop-Tart in his hand. It was the caramel kind. Some asshole had taken all the ones with the colorful sprinkles.

Jax, Greyson, Raze, Sami, and Tace were already seated around the table, looking at notes.

“Hey.” Tace Justice looked up, his blue eyes running over Damon’s torso. “Heard you took a hit to the ribs. Want me to take a look?” His drawl was in full force this morning.

“No.” Damon pulled out a chair and sat. “But, thanks.” He’d bonded with the Vanguard medic already on a mission and had no problem being direct. “Welcome back, and it’s good to see you. How’s the Century City Bunker?”

Tace nodded. “Good. Much better food than here.” He nodded at the Pop-Tart. “Where are the ones with sprinkles?”

Exactly. Damon shared a look with the guy and then glanced at the intel. “What do we have?”

Tace shoved papers and surveillance photos his way. “These are of the president and his Elite Force, still located in Lake Tahoe. Can’t tell yet who’s been picked for VP, though my guess is it’s that guy.” He pointed at a man with short, brown, buzz-cut hair. “He’s been in the main office with the president a lot.”

Damon studied the guy. “No name yet?”

“Nope. We don’t have sound surveillance anymore. Just pictures taken by one of our guys in a tree,” Jax said soberly.

Damon smiled at Sami. “Find anything in the computers?”

The woman was the best hacker still alive—most likely. She nodded, her brown eyes sparkling. “Yeah. We have proof of four more Bunkers, but I haven’t narrowed down locations yet. Just Reno. And no, I haven’t decrypted that copy of the computer file the president has yet.” Then she sobered. “Also found Marcus Knight’s medical records. Some of them, anyway.”

Jax’s face hardened. “It ain’t good. And it looks like he was moved around a lot, so if we could crack open that head of his, we might find the other Bunkers sooner.”

Damon shook his head. “He doesn’t seem to remember anything from before.”

Emotion flared hot and bright in Jax’s eyes. “I know.” He cleared his throat. “For now, we have all the intel we’re going to get on the Reno Bunker, and it’s in that file. We have to assume the president and his Elite Force have taken it over by now, which is fine. I still want it.”

Damon took the yellow folder. “You want an infiltration plan?”

“I do.” Jax studied him. “And since our intel says that the president headed that way earlier today, I want to go fast and hard before they get settled. I like that he’ll be there. In fact, I’ve been waiting for it.”

So Jax had decided to kidnap Atherton. Fair enough. Damon breathed out. “We can travel tonight and execute tomorrow.”

Jax nodded. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Also, excellent job on the three gang holdings yesterday. We didn’t lose a soldier, and we gained reams of data to go through, a ton of drugs, and even more weapons, including some explosives.”

“What kind of drugs?” Tace asked.

“Illegal and legal,” Jax confirmed. “Some good pain meds, which we totally need. And a bunch of antibiotics as well as ten boxes of the Vitamin Bs.”

That was a damn relief. Everyone was due for a shot. They’d determined that after the initial infection, a survivor needed a shot every week for a month. Then every month for three months. Finally, every six months.

There was supposed to be research about making the B permanent in the body, but it was at one of the Bunkers. If it existed at all. Damon shifted his weight in the chair and bit back a groan at the pain.

Jax tossed over an aspirin. “I grabbed this for you.”

Damon started to shake his head when Greyson snapped, “Take it, or I swear to God I’ll shove it down your throat.”

Damon turned toward his best friend. “What crawled up your ass?”

Greyson’s lips firmed, but he didn’t speak. What the hell was going on there? Damon studied him. Lines fanned out from his eyes, which were unusually bloodshot. “Is Maureen okay?”

Grey kept unnaturally still. “She was puking all night. I don’t know.”

Tace turned to look at the Merc leader. “She’s pregnant. That’s normal.”

“Maybe,” Grey returned. “But she’s a pregnant Scorpius survivor, and to our knowledge, that’s a bad thing for the baby and its possible survival.”

Jax nodded. “Which is why we need to take the Reno bunker now. We’re pretty sure the research is there.”

“From the prisoner who used to work there?” Damon asked. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“Of course,” Jax said. “Figured you’d want to when coming up with your plan. I had him moved here when Tace and Sami came home.”

Good. The more complete picture Damon could get before coming up with an approach, the better.

Greyson shook himself out of it. “Raze and I will get you our strategy and sniper positions,” he said.

“I’ll get you names of the teams I want to use as well as what weapons and vehicles we have,” Jax said. “For now, give an update on the Pure church. I’ve gone through all our documents, and I can’t find a guy named Jerome who I don’t already know personally.”

That was beyond weird. “How can there be a man here we don’t know?” Damon asked. “He either got in somehow when we weren’t looking, or he’s been hiding since the beginning.”

“Either way, I don’t like it,” Jax muttered. “Should we go in?”

Damon sighed. “If you do, you’ll scare a bunch of kids and pregnant women.” Though it might be necessary anyway. “So far, other than the mysterious Jerome, I haven’t found anything wrong. April interviewed everyone, and she believes that they are there willingly. The kids seem healthy and well cared for.”

“But?” Greyson asked, knowing him too well.

Damon shrugged. “Can’t put my finger on it, but something is just off.”

“Maybe you just don’t like another man interested in April,” Jax offered helpfully.

Could be. Damon didn’t answer. The streak of possessiveness he felt toward her was something new and dark. But he planned to roll with it. “I can’t recommend taking the apartment building right now.” If they infiltrated, what then? Where would they put the people?

Jax eyed a list of what appeared to be weapons. “All right. We focus solely on taking the Reno bunker right now. Damon? That means you’re up. We need a plan to start taking the country back from the president.”

* * *

The sun careened off the buildings in Reno as if fighting Scorpius for dominance in destroying the world. Heat bounced between cement and glass, turning the town into an inferno with no blaze. President Bret Atherton sat back in the black SUV next to a stunning blonde, letting the air conditioning cool him. Someday, they’d be out of coolant as well as gasoline, but not today.

“I don’t like your plan,” Jerome Blankenship said from the front seat. “Let me shoot my way in, and then we’ll reason with whoever is still standing.”

“I’m the President of the United States,” Bret said, sliding his hand across the blonde’s thigh. In deference to the heat, she’d worn linen pants and shirt today, showcasing her perfect body. “What do you think, Georgia?”

The woman tipped up her sunglasses. “I just want to get inside a lab again.” Her eyes were the wrong color of green and her voice a tad too low, but she was beautiful and could give a blowjob with the force of a new vacuum cleaner.

Bret squeezed her taut thigh. When Georgia had arrived with Dr. Ramirez, Bret had instantly dumped the grad student he’d pretended to be engaged to.

This woman was at least a doctor, like his Lynne. She’d do for now until Lynne came back home.

Blankenship cleared his throat. “Our scouts say there’s been movement between the Century City Bunker and Vanguard territory. That means they’re headed this way next. We know that.”

Bret nodded. “Agreed. They’ll have the intel by now.” Sometimes prey just walked right into a good trap. “Let’s do what we need to do and get out of here.”

“Affirmative,” Blankenship said.

Bret opened his door. “I’m tired of waiting. Let’s go.” He’d been invincible since Scorpius had changed him on a cellular level, no matter what the doctors said. Much more than his brain had been altered by that mysterious bacteria found in a meteorite. He kissed Georgia on her smooth cheek and shut the door.

He’d read her file, and he knew she wanted into her lab to continue her research with Ramirez. On nights when she worked late, after falling into bed, she called out Marcus Knight’s name. With fierce anger.

Bret would get to the bottom of that in his own time.

For now, he had a facility to command.

Blankenship motioned three squads of soldiers into formation, all with the directive of protecting Bret at all cost.

Bret didn’t bother telling them he was already protected.

They walked through the door of the Thoroughbred Casino and Hotel, which had been a working gambling establishment—as well as a CIA front. Below the casino were five floors that were now a Bunker.

The air was stale and somewhat cool, and silent slot machines stood in every direction. Dirt and poker chips covered the carpet.

The soldiers instantly engaged the flashlights on their vests.

They reached a stairwell behind a bunch of blackjack tables, and the lead soldier opened it easily. Interesting.

Silence met them from below. Bret kept his shoulders straight and followed the two squads down several flights until he reached the bottom. Still…nothing.

He waited as a door was opened.

“Please wait here, sir.” Blankenship went in, gun sweeping. In less than two minutes, he returned. “The place is cleared out, and they left a mess. Looks like an explosive was rigged but didn’t detonate. My guy is studying it now.”

If it didn’t go off, then notes would still be here. Bret could finally find the other Bunkers. Just how many were there?

A soldier jogged up. “The bomb is dead. No worries. Come on in, sir.”

The silence was eerie. “Get this place running,” he ordered. “They wouldn’t have had time to take the generators or all of the fuel.” The group assembled there must’ve run after Greyson Storm had infiltrated them and kidnapped Zach Barter. The question was…where did they go?

Bret ignited his own flashlight and strode down the pristine white hallway. The walls glowed and glistened, and soon, he reached what used to be a lab. A soft hum caught his attention.

Walking past file cabinets to another room, he stopped short at seeing the aquarium that took up an entire wall. The generator still worked for it, and luminous jellyfish swam deep into its recesses. Another aquarium housed squid, also floating lazily.

He watched their graceful movements. They were both chock-full of Vitamin B and could restore themselves in life. The cure to Scorpius, if there was one, lay in their DNA.

He didn’t care.

A clip-clop of heels caught his attention, and then the scent of pure roses reached him.

Georgia moved up to his side. “They didn’t kill the specimens,” she murmured.

The bomb would’ve, no doubt. “Is this like the lab where you worked?” he asked.

She looked around and moved toward the one unblemished wall before striding to the desk. “It has to be here.” Ducking low, she pulled a lever.

The door opened, and battery-operated lights instantly ignited down another long and white hallway.

Cell doors were set every few yards, all of them open. The smell of blood, sweat, and urine instantly filled the air.

Satisfaction curved her lips, and she looked like a cat in the dim light. “Yes. This is definitely like the lab where I worked.” Her voice was a low purr. “Of course, these specimens are gone.” Turning toward him, her eyes lasered through the darkness. “You really must retrieve a couple for me.”

He studied her. If he squinted, she almost looked like Lynne Harmony. “Retrieve? I take it you know where you can find one or two?”

“Well, one.” She lifted a slim shoulder.

“Marcus Knight?” he guessed.

When she smiled, her canines looked out of proportion in her mouth.

He shook off the fanciful notion. “Georgia?”

“Yes. He could take anything we gave him, and I almost had him turned into the perfect killing machine. I’m not done with him.” Her voice deepened to the pitch she used after sex.

Awareness brought Bret up short. He sometimes forgot that everyone had his or her own agenda. His was the most important, but not everyone realized that. Even so, the idea that she had plans to torture Jax Mercury’s brother in the future made his dick rock-hard. “I’ll get him for you, sweetheart. That’s a promise.”

Her chin lowered, and she breathed out, her nipples pebbling. “Thank you, darling. Marcus is special.” She smiled again. “Every girl needs a lapdog.”