Her body flushed warm, and sparks zipped across her nerves.
She shook her head to concentrate. “Hi.”
Pastor King drew the woman into the room. “Tomo, this is April and Damon.” He grinned. “Tomo is our resident medic. She was a practitioner in Century City before Scorpius.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tomo said, her smile soft.
“You, too,” Damon answered before April could. “It must be nice to have a doctor in-house.”
King nodded. “She’s invaluable.”
Man, April wanted to ask who the father of the baby was. Was there a right way to inquire about that? What if something bad had happened to Tomo before she found shelter with Vanguard? The story was all too familiar. So there wasn’t a good way to ask.
“Is the baby’s father still living?” Damon asked bluntly.
April barely kept a wince off her face. “Damon.”
He didn’t move.
Tomo’s eyebrows lifted, but no other expression crossed her face. “Here’s the test.” She handed over a small, wrapped package to King and then smiled at April. “It was very nice to meet you.” Turning on a tennis shoe, she disappeared.
King opened the package while returning to the couch, and drew out a cotton swab on a stick to hand over to April. She took it and swabbed the inside of her mouth and then watched, curious. She’d seen the test months ago, but then the world had pretty much ended.
King took the swab and inserted it into a small vial filled with liquid. It remained clear. “It looks like both you and Damon are pure.” He smiled. “No infection.”
April already knew that.
Damon turned his head. “Tomo didn’t answer my question. Where’s the father?”
King’s smile lacked charm this time. “That’s absolutely none of your business. And I think you know that.”
14
My focus can’t be split right now. I have to watch Greyson’s back…too much is happening.
—Damon Winter, Journal
Damon tugged down the very nice bulletproof vest he’d taken from the Pure church while leaning against a crumbling wooden house in east central Los Angles. The moon shone down, illuminating the garbage strewn over what used to be a backyard. The stench even smelled hot.
“Nice vests,” Greyson whispered, settling his own into place. “Where the hell did the pastor get these?”
“Couldn’t get an answer to that,” Damon said, stretching his leg to make sure he could get to his knife when needed. After his visit to the Pure building, he’d left a still-ticked-off April to her job so he could get to his. It had taken the rest of the day to prepare for tonight’s raid, and he was more than ready. In fact, he was itching for a good fight.
“You gave just the facts in your debriefing with Jax,” Grey said, double-checking a VP9 and then putting the gun into his thigh holster.
“I had just the facts.” Damon tightened the Velcro around his own thigh holster, securing it more firmly in place. “My gut feeling is that something is off, but I couldn’t find an ounce of proof. Even the pregnant woman I spoke with seemed okay. Closed off but not scared. That I could see anyway.”
A lion roared blocks away.
Damon stilled and then forced his body to relax again. He took a deep breath to control his breathing.
“Mercury here.” Jax’s voice came clearly over the radio at Damon’s waist. “Five minutes, and we’ll be in place. Following your op, Winter.”
Damon had the most experience with the drug houses in LA, so he’d taken lead on this one. It showed something that the Vanguard squad was okay with that.
He drew the radio to his mouth and pressed the button. “Acknowledged.” He looked around the backyard. A wooden fence enclosed the burned area, the middle bowed, having given in to heat and time. Some sort of wire cage stood in the right corner, filled with leaves and more garbage. Had the previous owners kept chickens? Weird. He closed his eyes to listen.
“I can’t hear anything,” Grey said.
Damon nodded. They were a block away from the supposed Twenty gang holding, so it wasn’t surprising. “Jax will call in with an update.” Mercury and Shadow had both been Special Forces, so they were the logical team to send in for surveillance. Damon was more of a boot to the door type of guy.
Greyson shook out his hands. “How’s it going with April?”
Damon’s head snapped toward his best friend before he could think. “You want to talk about that now?”
Grey shrugged, his shoulders impacting the old house and sending shards of wood down to the brown weeds. “Why not? Mercury is five minutes out and will need at least another five to get a good survey of the property. We never talk anymore, Damon. It’s just work all the time.”
Damon snorted. Only Greyson Storm would be making jokes at a time like this. The guy had nerves of absolute steel. “Everything’s a jumble right now.”
Grey’s light eyes pierced through the night. “Ah. So you and April are both undercover and maybe starting something. And you are investigating the Pure church, but they might be okay, and you don’t know where you stand.” He reached down and double-checked the knife in his boot. “And I might be heading to the Century City Bunker and leaving your back unprotected.”
Damon shook his head. “No.”
“Yes. For the record, I’ve put off the Bunker assignment.” Grey straightened and tightened his vest.
Damon paused. “You did not. Why?”
“Because of you,” Greyson said easily. He kicked off the dirt on his boots.
“Me?” Damon shook his head. “What are you talking about? You have to go to the Bunker.”
Greyson rolled his eyes, the moonlight allowing his irritation to be seen. “You’re my brother, Damon. I know you had biological brothers before, and I never had that, so I understand if it’s different for you. But I ain’t leaving you on your own during this op. My gut? It says it’s more dangerous than we’ve found.”
Damon’s throat closed. He missed his brothers every day. Every damn day. “It’s not different,” he murmured. “They were good guys, and they’d welcome you into the family in a heartbeat. You’re my brother, too.” They’d fought and almost died together. That mattered. His gut warmed that Greyson would stay for him. “But you have to go. Maureen needs to do research, and since she’s pregnant, the Bunker is probably a better place for her to be.”
“I can keep her safe in Vanguard territory for now.” Grey’s jaw hardened. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I have the entire Vanguard organization as backup.” Damon had to get through to him.
Grey knocked his head back against the house, and paint chips fell to the ground. “Do you? We might have backup from Jax and his lieutenants, but there’s still a divide between Vanguard and the Mercs. You should know that from your fight last night.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know, but we all need backup.” Grey shook himself loose again. “Not arguing about this any longer.”
Jax came over the radio as if on cue. “In place, it’s a go on location. Two guards front door, two on the back, and at least six members inside. We’re ready to breach the rear.”
Adrenaline flooded Damon’s system. “We’ll come from the east and hit the front door. Hold steady.” He grasped his HK416 where it had been leaning against the side of the house. The assault rifle was more than at home in his hands.
He moved into a quiet jog with Greyson by his side.
They kept close to the deserted and ramshackle homes until they reached the house in question. Damon halted and peered around the closest building. Two men in Twenty purple guarded the front door, each with an assault rifle in their hands.
Damon gave Greyson the signal and then lifted his gun, firing once. The guy to the left dropped silently.
Greyson fired, the sound a soft ping. The soldier to the right fell against the door.
Damon held his breath and waited. Music wafted in the air. Hard
rock. The Twenty gang didn’t care much about preserving batteries, did they?
He gave the signal, ducked low, and hustled to the front door to push both bodies out of the way. Then he whispered into the radio. “Breach on the count of three.” Tucking the device away, he slowly counted.
At three, he put his boot right near the crappy old lock and kicked.
Greyson went in first, firing before he’d crossed the threshold. Two guys instantly went down. Damon followed, sweeping to the right.
A Twenty member lifted a gun, and Damon fired. A guy came at him from the side, knife sweeping across Damon’s upper left arm. Pain cut through him, and blood squirted. Damn it. He turned and fired twice, hitting the asshole center mass.
Two others remained in place on a ragtag sofa, one obviously going through music discs, and the other right in the middle of snorting what looked like coke. They didn’t move.
Gunfire came from the next room that was supposed to be the kitchen, and then silence. Finally, “All clear,” came from Jax.
The nearest hallway was closest to Damon, so he went in as Greyson covered the guys on the sofa. He cleared two bedrooms, a bathroom, and then reached a closed and locked door. He kicked it open and waited.
Nothing.
Darkness was inside. He reached for a flashlight in his cargo pants just as a body rushed him, impacting his still bleeding arm. He ducked and threw the attacker over his shoulder to land in the hallway behind him, dropping his weapon in the process. Another guy rushed out, this one with his teeth snapping wildly.
Shit. Rippers.
He pivoted and kicked the Ripper in front of him, sending it spiraling back into the dark room. Rippers were Scorpius survivors whose brains hadn’t healed from the bacteria and had instead turned from sociopathic to animalistic. They were still human and still alive, but they were monsters that lived to kill. Two more rushed out.
He backpedaled down the hallway, nearly tripping over the guy on the floor. “Rippers,” he bellowed, reaching the entrance to the living area. He ducked and yanked out his knife.
A Ripper, his eyes bloodshot, and his fingernails way too long ran at him. His teeth were bared, and spittle covered his lips. The guy had been blond at one time and was at least six feet tall. Damon eyed the dangerous teeth.
The bastard charged.
Greyson unexpectedly hit Damon from the side, smashing him into the far wall. The Ripper latched on to Grey’s neck, and he bellowed in pain, swinging wildly.
Damon jumped up and slashed his knife down into the Ripper’s neck, shoving him away from Grey. “What the fuck was that?”
Without waiting for an answer, Greyson turned and shoved Damon into the living room. Another Ripper smashed into him. Damon tried to jump back inside the hallway, but Jax Mercury grabbed him in a chokehold and pulled him away just as Raze Shadow leaped in to help Greyson, already firing down the corridor.
Damon struggled. “Let me go,” he snapped.
The guys on the sofa just watched, neither going for a weapon.
“Then stay still,” Jax hissed back, slowly loosening his hold.
Damon shrugged him off, his hand already curling into a fist to punch the Vanguard leader’s face.
“All clear,” Raze muttered, moving back into the room, blood sprayed across his face.
“Ouch.” Greyson walked behind him, his hand against a bleeding wound in his neck. Blood dripped down to his shirt. “Bastard bit into me like I was a steak.”
“What were you doing?” Damon exploded.
Grey paused. His brows lowered. “Huh?” He winced and pressed his hand harder to his neck.
Damon shook his head. No way should Grey have taken that bite. “You heard me.” He turned a glare on Jax. “You, too. What the hell?” He was in charge of this op.
Raze tossed Greyson a bandana from his back pocket. “Use this.”
“Thanks.” Grey caught it and held it to the bleeding neck wound.
Damon saw red. Not a light crimson, not even a pink, but a deep and dark claret. “What the fuck?” he yelled.
Grey reared back, and both Vanguard guys looked at him with surprise on their faces.
“You never yell,” Mercury said, tilting his head.
Raze nodded. “Yeah. You’re the calm and in-control one. This is weird.”
Oh, he was going to kill them. Just end them right now. He glanced down at the knife still in his hand.
“Damon,” Greyson said, his voice hoarse. “You haven’t been infected. We all have. Don’t be a dipshit.”
That was not how this worked. “Greyson.” Damon tried to hold on to his already rare and loose temper with both hands. “I cover your back. You are the leader of the Mercs, and you now have a pregnant fiancée. You do not, fucking ever, jump between me and an attacker.” He focused on Raze and Jax. “You either. Got it?”
Raze shook his head. “We can take a bite without facing nearly certain death. You can’t. Deal with it.”
Damon had never been this pissed. “Then I guess I should just get infected and get it over with now.” He’d always figured it would happen at some point anyway. “Then we’ll know.”
“You can’t,” Greyson said simply.
“Why not?” Damon growled, his ears actually feeling hot.
Grey grinned, the expression pained. “You won’t be able to fuck April. Now that’s a reason to stay healthy.”
Damon’s mouth gaped open. Grey had not just said that. “I am not going to fuck April.”
Grey rolled his eyes.
Jax nodded a little too vigorously. “That’s right. He’s definitely not going to sleep with April. They’re just pretending.”
Damon’s temper turned to irritation, which relaxed his neck muscles slightly. “That’s not any of your business, Mercury. If I decide to sleep with April, I’m going to. In fact, if she ever gives me an opening, I’m jumping right in. So butt out.” He wasn’t sure he meant the words right now, but enough was enough. Who did these guys think they were?
Raze sighed and shook his head. “Can we have lady gossip time back at headquarters?”
Jax pulled his radio out of his pocket. “Good point.” He lifted it to his mouth. “House is clear, all scouts move in to scavenge this place down to the bones.”
Damon jerked his head at the two guys on the sofa. “Them?”
Jax smiled, the sight making one of the guys gasp. “Oh. They’re coming with us. Right, fellas?”
15
Sometimes this life just becomes too hard. Somehow, having Damon with me makes it easier. He’s quickly becoming part of my life, and yet, he’s always in danger. How does this make sense?
—April Snyder, Journal
April finished her cup of tea, but the mellow brew failed to calm her like usual. Perhaps it was the double shot of bourbon she’d put in it. Lynne had dropped off the bottle earlier after hearing about April’s time at the Pure church. Or rather, the time before it when Damon had treated her like a sack of potatoes and a piñata at the same time.
She had left word at headquarters that he was to stop by after the raid.
It wasn’t because she was worried about him and needed to see for herself that he was all right. Nope. Not at all.
She sighed. Yeah, she was a dork.
Moonlight filtered in through the shadeless window in her kitchen. It had to be about midnight. That was good. She straightened her shoulders. It was too late for Damon to come by. That was a good thing. Yeah. Her mind was fuzzy now, and her body way too relaxed. She’d deal with him in the morning when she was at a hundred percent.
Rapid knocking on her interior door had her biting back a yelp.
“April? April, wake up,” came an urgent voice.
April ran for the door and opened it to see two teenage girls. “Julie? Molly? What are you doing? Curfew was an hour ago.”
Molly, a short brunette of about sixteen, grabbed her arm. “There’s something wrong with Freda.”
Panic choked
off April’s breath.
Freda was a sweet seventeen-year-old who had somehow made her way from Texas by herself. April hustled into the main rec room and ran up the stairs toward the teenage girls’ floor. Reaching it, she ran into Freda’s room and stopped cold.
The girl thrashed on her bed, sweat rolling down her face. Her long, blond hair went in every direction, and her slim body convulsed with the fever.
Oh, God.
April looked around for restraints and ran for a belt. Her hands shook violently. “I thought she’d survived the bacteria?”
Molly nodded.
Julie shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “She lied. She wanted to stay here with us, so she told the intake folks that she’d survived the fever.”
April secured Freda’s left arm to the bedpost. During the fever, sometimes the victim tried to gouge out their own eyes because of the agonizing headache. Restraint was protocol. “Why would she lie? She’d still be on this floor, just down in the safer rooms.” They’d tried to keep the uninfected as safe as possible. Maybe the Pure did have the right answer.
Tears rolled down Julie’s face. “She wanted to stay right here and be one of us. I should’ve said something.”
April secured the girl’s other hand and looked over her shoulder. “Go get a doctor. I think Tace is at the Bunker, so bring Doc Penelope. Run. Now.”
The girls turned and ran out of sight.
April sat and smoothed the girl’s hair back from her face. Flashbacks of losing her own daughter caught her and squeezed the air out of her lungs. She shook her head. Stay in the moment. She had to stay right here. “It’s okay, Freda. Hold on, sweetheart,” she murmured.
Freda arched her back in the throes of the pain.
April’s entire body hurt for the girl. While she hadn’t experienced the onslaught of the bacteria, she’d witnessed it several times, and the pain was palpable.