“No, ma’am.” Well trained, definitely at ease, the soldier kept his gaze above her right shoulder.
“I know,” she said slowly and through gritted teeth, “because I looked out the bloody window when we were landing. The next time you kidnap somebody, you might want to blacken out the windows.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded his head, ever so slightly, toward the doorway to the plane.
“This is kidnapping, and I’ve had it. We’re in Seattle, and yep, guess what? I live here. So I’m going to head home, take an incredibly hot shower, change my clothes, and then call—well, somebody. Anybody who will tell me what the hell is going on.” Her rant would end perfectly if she could just get past him on the steps, but he easily blocked her way.
“All apologies, ma’am, but our orders are to escort you. Please embark.” He kept his voice level and polite.
She swallowed. There were six of them, one of her, and no way would she win a physical altercation. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”
“Nora?” A voice called from inside the plane. “Get your ass in here.”
Every nerve she owned short-circuited. Her gut clenched as if a fist had plowed into her solar plexus. Slowly, spraying water, she pivoted toward the opening. It couldn’t be. It really couldn’t be.
The voice she knew so well. Male, low, slight Scottish brogue a decade in the States hadn’t quite banished. Her heart thundered, and fire skidded across her abdomen to flare deep. How was this even possible? She steeled her shoulders and approached the opening of the plane as if a bomb waited inside. So many thoughts rioted through her brain, she couldn’t grasp just one.
Warmth hit her first when she stepped inside, followed by another shock wave. “Deacan Devlin McDougall,” she murmured.
He stretched to his feet from one of the luxurious leather chairs, standing in the aisle—the only place high enough to accommodate his six-foot-four frame.
All the thoughts zinging around her head stopped cold.
Nothing. Her brain fuzzed. The years had been good to him, experience adding an intriguing look of danger to his masculine beauty.
His green gaze, dark and piercing, scored her see-through shirt, light wrap, and bare legs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the extraction.”
Her chin lifted. Heat seared through her lungs, lifting her chest, and she slowly tried to control her body. No way would she let him see how difficult he made it for her to breathe—even after all this time.
He wore faded jeans over long legs and a dark T-shirt across a broad chest—no uniform. But the gun strapped to his leg was military issue, now wasn’t it? The weapon, so silent and deadly, appeared at home on his muscled thigh.
His dark brown hair, glinting with red highlights, now almost reached his shoulders. Very different from the buzz cut he’d had years before. His eyes, the green of a Scottish moor, held secrets, unplumbed depths, and promise. Chiseled face, hard jaw, and definite warrior features proudly proclaimed his ancestry, and even now, she could see the Highlander in him.
The door banged shut behind her, and she jumped.
He gestured toward the seat across from the one he’d occupied. The engines roared to life.
She faltered. “Where are we going?”
He reached into an overhead compartment and drew out a plush blanket. “D.C.”
The plane lurched forward, and she stumbled. He grasped her arm, shooting an electrical jolt up her bicep.
His eyes darkened. “I’d wondered.”
“Me too.” As kids, they’d been combustible. So she hadn’t imagined the spark from years ago. She blinked confusion from her vision and allowed him to settle her into the seat. The second he covered her legs with the warm blanket, she finally took a deep breath.
He sat down, gaze somber. “You haven’t responded to my proposition.”
Her head jerked back. “This isn’t, I mean, you—” She gestured around the luxurious plane.
His lips twitched. “No. I did not execute a military extraction and secure three private jets to force you into making up your mind to meet me in person now that I’m settled in the States. Finally.”
She plucked at a string on the blanket. They’d kept in touch through the years, and when he’d sent her an e-mail two months ago saying he wanted to meet up with her, she’d needed time to think about it. “I didn’t think so.”
Turn the page for a preview of the first novel
in the groundbreaking new series by Rebecca Zanetti!
Mercury Striking
will be available in paperback and e-book
in February 2016 from Zebra Books.
“Nothing is easy or black or white in Zanetti’s grim new reality,
but hope is key, and I hope she writes faster!”
—New York Times bestselling author Larissa Ione
With nothing but rumors to lead her, Lynn Harmony has trekked
across a nightmare landscape to find one man—a mysterious,
damaged legend who protects the weak and leads the strong.
He’s more than muscle and firepower—and in post-plague L.A.,
he’s her only hope. As the one woman who could cure the disease,
Lynn is the single most volatile—and vulnerable—creature in this
new and ruthless world. But face to face with Jax Mercury . . .
Danger has never looked quite so delicious . . .
Chapter 1
Life on Earth is at the ever-increasing risk of being wiped out by a disaster, such as sudden global nuclear war, a genetically engineered virus or other dangers we have not yet thought of.—Stephen Hawking
Despair hungered in the darkness, not lingering, not languishing . . . but waiting to bite. No longer the little brother of rage, despair had taken over the night, ever present, an actor instead of an afterthought.
Lynn picked her way along the deserted twelve-lane interstate, allowing the weak light from the moon to guide her. An unnatural silence hung heavy over the empty land. Rusted carcasses of cars lined the sides, otherwise, the once vibrant 405 was dead, yet she trod carefully.
Her months of hiding had taught her stealth. Prey needed stealth, as did the hunter.
She was both.
The tennis shoes she’d stolen from an abandoned thrift store protected her feet from the cracked asphalt. A click echoed in the darkness. About time. She’d made it closer to Los Angeles, well, what used to be Los Angeles, than she’d hoped.
A strobe light hit her full on, rendering sight useless. She closed her eyes. They’d either kill her or not. Either way, no need to go blind. “I want to see Mercury.”
Silence. Then several more clicks. Guns of some type.
She forced strength into her voice. “You don’t want to kill me without taking me to Mercury first.” Jax Mercury, to be exact. If he still existed. If not, she was screwed anyway.
“Why would we do that?” A voice from the darkness, angry and near.
She opened her eyes, allowing light to narrow her pupils. “I’m Lynn Harmony.”
Gasps, low and male, echoed around her. They’d closed in silently, just as well trained as she’d heard. As she’d hoped.
“Bullshit,” a voice hissed from her left.