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Now let's check out Rebecca Zanetti's Mercury Striking....
The
Scorpius Syndrome #1
By: Rebecca Zanetti
Releasing January 26, 2016
Zebra
Zebra
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25476654-mercury-striking
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/152990-the-scorpius-syndrome
Blurb
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. Lynn
Danger has never looked quite so delicious…
Danger has never looked quite so delicious…
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What had she done? Lynne
had actually fallen asleep on Jax Mercury. She awoke, blinking inside the
stifling hood, just as he lifted her into the cool morning air and easily
strode over uneven ground. A slight change of temperature hit her, and his
steps leveled out.
Inside. They were inside somewhere. The smell of dust and
burned tomato soup tickled her nose, but no sound provided a clue as to their
whereabouts. All but blinded, she tried to tune in to her other senses. Jax’s
boots clomped heavily across a hard surface, and his heart beat steadily
against her shoulder.
His stride didn’t hitch as he climbed stairs, turned,
walked in a too-quiet area, and opened a door. The world tilted, and he placed
her, gently actually, on what felt like a fake leather sofa.
He yanked the hood off.
Light from halogen lamps assaulted her wide pupils, and
she winced, her eyes tearing. “You’re an ass.”
Silver flashed, and he cut the zip ties. “So it has been
said.”
Heat climbed into her face. The man had carried her
easily and didn’t seem winded a bit. Even so, the legends whispered around
campfires and refugee camps across the country had to be exaggerated. Nobody
was that tough. “We need to talk,” she gritted out.
He yanked a kitchen chair toward her, turned it, and
straddled it. Now, in the light, she was struck by how young he really was.
Maybe mid-thirties, black hair, dark brown eyes, and rugged facial features.
Handsome in a pissed-off kind of way. A scar cut under the left side of his
jaw, white and deadly. “So, talk.”
She swallowed and tugged her backpack to her chest,
glancing around what appeared to be a small apartment. A kitchenette took up
one wall, an unmade bed the other, with dented furniture in between. Sofa,
metal coffee table, woodlaminate kitchen table, paint peeling pink kids’
dresser, and mismatched kitchen chairs. Maps covered the table, spread out
haphazardly. “Where am I?”
“You don’t get to know that.” He rested his arms on the
top of the chair, muscles flexing.
She bit her lip. Men’s clothing littered the unmade bed,
and the smell of musk and male filled the atmosphere. “Whose place am I in?”
“Mine.” He lifted a shoulder, his gaze unwavering. “And
yours now, I guess.”
She pushed back into the torn pleather. “I’m not, I mean,
I—”
One dark eyebrow rose. “You’re here because I’m keeping
an eye on you and making sure you don’t infect anybody else.”
“I won’t infect anybody else,” she said slowly, her nails
digging into the couch until the pads of her fingertips protested. “We don’t
really know the truth about that statement, now do we? You’re the ultimate
carrier of the most dangerous plague to ever attack mankind.” He lowered his
chin, the movement somehow menacing. “You’re also here so I can make sure
you’re not ready to check out.”
She rolled her eyes. “If I’d wanted to kill myself, I
wouldn’t have traveled this far to do it.”
“Fair enough.”
She glanced at the unmade bed. Too many women had become
victims as the world had disintegrated; the strong overcame the weak. She
wasn’t weak, and she was no man’s plaything. “I’m not here for your amusement.”
“I’m not amused.” He leaned toward her, and her breath
caught in her throat. “Let me be perfectly clear. I don’t force myself on
women, and neither do any of my men. Any people here, and anyone we come
across, remain safe from personal attack. Rape is a crime dealt with by death,
so you have no need to fear.”
She’d heard that in the rumors and tales, but she hadn’t
known it to be true. “Women don’t earn their keep, earn their protection, with
sex here?” Wherever here was.
“No.”
“You were in an inner-city L.A.
His face blanked. “No, but
I’ve never forced a woman.” Those dark eyes narrowed. “My past is my own. You
sure know a lot about me.”
Not really. He’d become a folk legend fighting in L.A.
He rubbed his chin. “Judge gave me a choice. Prison or
military. I guess he saw something in me.”
She let her shoulders relax. “I wondered.”
“Yeah.” Jax eyed her shirt just at her neck. “Can I see
again?”
Well, she couldn’t really blame him. She set aside the
pack holding her father’s precious journal. Her fingers remained steady this
time as she unbuttoned the blouse and drew open the sides.
Jax’s nostrils flared, while a tension, one she barely
remembered as sexual, overtook the atmosphere. “Does it hurt?”
“The blueness?” She glanced down, her lungs suddenly
too tight “No. I don’t feel anything.”
He reached out and gently took her wrist, shoving the
sleeve up to reveal the track marks on her elbow. “This must hurt.”
His touch stirred awareness deep in her abdomen, and
surprise paused her at the feeling. When was the last time she’d felt desire?
Or even warmth from another’s touch? She glanced down at the scars caused by
drawing so much blood. So many times, and outside of normal medical procedures
after a while. “Yes. That hurts.”
“I knew a junkie once with an arm like this.” Jax shook
his head and unrolled her sleeve. “The irrationality of a thing is not an
argument against its existence, rather, a condition of it,” he murmured,
securing the buttons at her wrist. She frowned as the familiar words rolled
around her head. “Einstein?”
“Nietzsche.” Jax lifted an eyebrow. “Rumor has it you’re
carrying an advanced form of Scorpius. True or false?” “False rumor to isolate
me.” She tried to keep her tired eyes open.
Jax gestured toward her pack. “I get the food and water
you have, but what’s in the journal?”
She sighed. “Sorry, but there’s nothing about Scorpius.
My dad was a physicist and a philosopher. He wrote a lot down.”
Jax blinked. “That’s quite the combination.”
“Yes.” The words on paper were all she had left of her
parents.
Jax studied her and then looked toward the gas lamp on
the counter. “We have lanterns left, but not for long unless we get more fuel. So
keep an eye on the lamp but extinguish it if you go to sleep.”
“I understand.” The guy was quoting Nietzsche? What kind
of an ex-gang member turned army special ops turned leader of a vigilante group
knew philosophy? She shook her head. Time to negotiate. “I’m here for a
reason.” “I’m sure.” He eyed her blue heart again. “You can cover up.”
She fumbled in refastening her shirt. “I’ll teach you
everything I know about the illness, and you provide temporary protection and
one kill.” The mere idea she was contracting a murder banished the desire
humming inside her and replaced the heat with a lump of cold rock.
A veil fell over Jax’s eyes. “What makes you think we
don’t know everything you do about the illness?”
She shrugged, wondering if he knew what kind of
information he might have stored away just from his ransacking labs. “The
Internet went down fast, much faster than anyone would’ve thought, and the news
and television thereafter. No way do you know what I know.”
He watched her patiently, as if waiting to strike. “The
Internet went down because of a guy named Spiral.”
She blinked. Wow. So Jax Mercury had some seriously good
intel. “True. He was infected with the illness and then reacted by creating a
world-class computer virus. Figured if bodies died, so should technology, since
it got us in this fix in the first place.” Her instincts hummed.
Underestimating Mercury would be a colossal mistake. Suddenly, and for the
first time in way too long, hope struggled to unfurl within her. “I still know
more about the illness than you do.”
“Probably.” He studied her for a few moments longer
before cocking his head to the side. “What else?”
She cleared her throat. “I assume you’ve scavenged the
area you control?”
His chin lifted. “So?”
She swallowed, her body stilling. “Did you scavenge the
emergency CDC outpost on the southeast side of L.A.
“Yes. Why?” he asked softly.
The softness contained a deadly intent that rippled a
shiver down her spine. Her fingers fidgeted. “They had the most recent
research, and combined with mine, we might have hope.” They also had intel on
where Myriad, the ultrasecret lab, might be located.
He studied her. “We raided the CDC outpost and took all
medical supplies and paper records. Our limited medical personnel went through
the files looking for cures, but I have to be honest, none of them are
researchers with your background.”
Lynne leaned forward. “I’m
happy to go through all the information and decipher it for you.” Oh God. Maybe
the risk of heading into Mercury’s territory would actually pay off . . . if
she could find Myriad. “Could I look through the data?”
He leaned back and studied her. “Sure. Are you telling me
there may be a cure?”
Author
Info
USA Today Bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has worked as
an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and a hearing examiner
- only to culminate it all in stories about Alpha males and the women who claim
them. She writes contemporary romances, dark paranormal romances, and romantic
suspense novels.
Growing up amid the glorious backdrops and winter wonderlands of
the Pacific Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery
and adventures to weave into her stories. She resides in the wild north with
her husband, children, and extended family who inspire her every day—or at the
very least give her plenty of characters to write about.
Website: http://rebeccazanetti.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/RebeccaZanetti
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Thank you for hosting MERCURY STRIKING today!
Crystal, Tasty Book Tours
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