Lynne sat next to Vinnie on the worn sofa and poured three glasses of tequila.
April winced. “Seriously?” Why couldn’t it be schnapps or something?
“It’s all we had.” Vinnie took her glass. The shrink had blue eyes, blond hair, and a wicked sense of humor. She ran the deadly serious Raze Shadow in circles, and it was a lot of fun to watch. She was also a former profiler with the FBI. “Go away, Lucinda,” she muttered.
Lynne took her glass and handed one to April. They’d bonded while locked in a room hiding from psychos with guns, and Lynne had been there for April after her daughter died. “Have a drink, sister.”
April accepted the glass. “Cheers.” She tipped her head back and swallowed. The liquid burned her throat and heated her stomach. She coughed, her lungs compressing.
“Did he kiss you?” Vinnie asked after taking her shot.
Lynne nudged her with an elbow. “Vinnie. Come on.” Then she looked at April expectantly. “Well?”
How the hell should she answer that? “Yes, he kissed me. But it was after he stabbed a guy and knocked another unconscious by kicking him in the head. It wasn’t after our date in a goodbye-at-the-door type of way.” April held out her glass for another shot of the healing brew.
Lynne poured. “Wow. That was more than I expected. I need a second to process.”
“Not me,” Vinnie piped up. “Did you kiss him back?”
Had she? April took just a sip this time, and her lips burned a little. “I’m not sure. It was such a surprise, and he just took over. I may have moved my mouth?” Man. Had she? Or had she acted like a cold fish? While she wasn’t sure she wanted to kiss Damon again, she couldn’t have him thinking she was a bad kisser. “Oh, I don’t know.” Her stomach dropped.
Vinnie gulped down another shot. “I’m sure you did. If he was that into it, then he liked it.”
“Wait a minute.” April waved her hand. The room tilted a little, and her body fuzzed nicely. “It doesn’t matter. Come on. I’ve been with one man my entire life. I have no idea what to do with a tough guy like Damon.”
Vinnie snorted. “It’s all the same, sister. They all have the same parts.”
Lynne tried to cover a laugh with a cough. Her eyes watered. “Yes, and no. I mean, come on. These guys are a little different. The whole survival and deadly soldier thing. It makes the sex, well, intense.”
Vinnie giggled.
April’s vision blurred, but she studied the two brilliant blondes anyway. “I got pregnant at sixteen with my husband, which was the best accident ever to happen in my entire life. It also got us out of foster care.” Sure, things had been tough, but they’d made it. “I worked, and Don went to school and became a dentist. Things were really good then.” Until they weren’t.
“Wow.” Vinnie tapped her glass against her lips. “You never even dated anybody else?”
April shook her head. “Nope.” Then she tried to clear her head. “And I’m not dating anybody now. You guys know that. This is a mission.”
Vinnie nodded, her face morphing just a little. “Yeah, I understand. But these days, that’s like online dating. Everything is an op.”
Humor slaked April, and she chuckled. That wasn’t even funny. But, somehow, she laughed.
“I was on a mission when I hooked up with Jax.” Lynne’s words slurred. “That worked out.”
Vinnie giggled. “I was a mission with Raze. Remember? He was supposed to turn me over to Greyson Storm.”
Lynne nodded vigorously. “Yeah. And Greyson was on a mission with Maureen, who he kidnapped. They’re all missions. Everywhere you look, another mission. Why do they all lead to kissing?”
Vinnie half-heartedly swung out to pat Lynne’s shoulder. “Great question! Yeah. That’s a really good question. Right?”
“Uh-huh.” April couldn’t feel her feet. Or face. “Is it worth it? Taking the chance again. After everything?” She blinked, trying to keep her eyes open somehow.
“Yes,” both women answered in unison.
11
An alpha male is not for me. Probably. Well, maybe. No, definitely. But he’s just so sexy.
——April Snyder, Journal
April finished swiping on lip-gloss just as Damon knocked on the outside door. Odd. She recognized his knock. Strong and steady. Man, she was losing it.
She moved through the small apartment and tried not to jostle her aching head. What in the world had she been thinking shooting tequila like she was twenty again? Even her teeth ached a little this morning, and it wasn’t as if she could just go buy aspirin at the drugstore.
All painkillers were saved for real pain. Not the kind one deserved.
She opened the door to bright sunshine and sexy man. He wore faded jeans and a light T-shirt, his muscles nicely defined. Pleasure caught her, sprinkling out from her chest. It felt as if she were fourteen with her first crush again. Then the sun hit her eyes, and she barely kept from wincing. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Damon stepped aside so she could walk past and shut the door. His smell of ginger and male soothed her. “Have a nice night?”
“Sure.” She kept her head down and moved across the scrub brush with him by her side. He was big enough to nicely block the penetrating sun, which was way too hot, even with her light blue sundress covering her. “How’s your arm?”
“Fine.” His voice was curt.
She frowned and looked up into his dark eyes. “What’s the matter?”
He grasped her hand as they walked down the abandoned street toward the Pure apartment building. The feeling of security his touch gave her made her uneasy and pleased her at the same time. “Last night, I told you to stay inside when the men were fighting, and you completely ignored me. I don’t like that.”
What the heck? “I don’t work for you.” She wanted to get angry, but her head was pounding. Her bed sounded so inviting. Why couldn’t she go back there for an hour—or five? What if she invited him? What a crazy thought.
“When it comes to my men fighting, you do listen to me.” The hold on her hand was firm. A little too firm.
She tried to draw free…and failed. Her brain woke up completely. “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me is that you’re not listening.” They turned the corner and walked down another street that had once been busy with cars, hookers, and drug deals. At least, that was how Jax had described the area to April.
She swallowed. “I am listening.” Maybe Damon’s injury was worse than she’d thought. He was certainly cranky. “I stepped back when you told me to last night.” Her little bat wouldn’t have done much good anyway.
“I told you to stay inside.”
She jerked to a stop, a little surprised when he let her. Heat cascaded off the pavement below her feet, even at this early hour. “Why are you being so grumpy?”
His eyes glimmered for a moment, and his lips twitched. Then the expression was gone completely. Rock was probably softer than his jawline. “Calling me names isn’t going to lead to a nice day for you.”
She cocked her head to the side. It wasn’t like him to threaten her. “What’s up with you? Did you hit your head last night?”
He paused as if not quite sure what to say. “We’re going to be late.” He tugged her back into motion, his strides too long.
She tripped. “Slow down.”
“No.” He had the momentum, and she had no choice but to lope into a jog. When it came to strength, they were no match. Not even close.
Confusion blanketed her. “Damon? Are you sure you’re all right?” When he’d hit the pavement the previous night, he might’ve gotten a concussion. There was still a cut above his eye from the guy who’d punched him. “Maybe we should see the doctor.”
His sigh was full of exasperation. “Do you never get angry?”
Not when she was totally hung-over. This conversation was so odd. “Do you want me mad?”
He slowed his strides. “Of course not. It’s just…how c
an’t you see when somebody else is mad?”
They reached the walkway to the Pure building, and April mulled over his question. Movement cast shadows at the doorway. Was Pastor there? “You don’t seem mad. You just seem really cranky. Like you have a sliver in your toe or something.”
“Wrong.” Damon turned to face her, fully blocking out the sun. His hands clamped on her upper arms, holding her in place. “I’m pissed, April. When I tell you to do something, especially if it involves fighting soldiers with guns, you fucking do it. Got it?”
She blinked. Once, and then again. He’d just sworn at her. She’d faced a snarling tiger once while on a school trip to the zoo, and Damon seemed scarier. Plus, unlike the tiger, there was no fence between them. “I think you need to let go of me. Now.”
He leaned down, his expression ominous. A definite threat. “No. Tell me you get me.”
She tried to struggle, but he held her tight. Panic filtered through her, followed by a distant anger that actually felt hot. “You’re about to get kicked in the balls. Move back. Now.”
In a million years, she never would have guessed his next move. He grabbed her neck and pulled her toward him. She gasped. He squeezed just enough to show his strength. His eyes were a sharp brown, and his expression implacable.
Who was this guy?
She tried to swallow, barely able to because of his hold. “What. Are. You. Doing?” she gritted out.
“Trying to get you to take me seriously,” he snapped.
Huh. She should be scared. Or super mad. But her anger puttered out like a candle hit with water. Instead, concern filtered through her. “I’m worried about you. We should go see one of the doctors.”
He sucked in air, and his nostrils flared. “You are impossible.” His voice lowered to a tense whisper. “Would you just fight back a little so I can be an asshole? Please?”
Her mouth gaped open. Ohhhhh. Okay. Wait a minute. He had this whole plan and hadn’t bothered to tell her about it? The pastor was watching quietly from the entrance, and Damon needed a scene. Oh, he did, did he? What? He thought she couldn’t act, so he pretended to be a big old jerk and just confuse her? That did actually make him a bit of an asshole.
“Today, April,” he muttered.
Fine. “You are such a dick.” She punched him as hard as she could in the stomach, kind of meaning the words.
He didn’t even exhale as her fist bounced off. Ouch. That hurt, damn it. What were his abs made of? She set her stance to punch harder, but with no hint of warning, he moved.
Fast and decisive.
He ducked a shoulder, hit her midsection, and lifted her right off the ground. Her forehead flopped against his upper back, and her legs dangled uselessly—like something out of an old John Wayne movie. Blood roared into her head, increasing her headache.
She reacted instantly. Her kick to his gut this time was real.
Finally, he did exhale with a muffled “oof.” She barely had time to smile at that before his hand, his very large and hard palm, landed squarely on her butt with a loud smack.
The sound caught her first and then the sting. It spread across her entire lower back. She squawked and started to struggle.
“Stop it.” He smacked her again, striding easily toward the entrance to the Pure building. Heat flared in her lower half, both intriguing and irritating.
Oh, she was going to kill him. Like, dead kill him. Even for playacting, that was so unnecessary. Her abdomen felt all mushy now. His easy strength was yet another intriguing aspect of the guy. Life was confusing enough.
“Is there a problem?” Pastor King’s voice filtered through the haze of her rapid fury.
“Not anymore,” Damon said easily. “Small disagreement. I think we have things figured out now.”
The world spun wildly, and she found herself on her feet inside the Pure foyer. Her stomach lurched. It would serve him right if she puked all over the arrogant ass. He might be acting for the church, but he should’ve let her in on the plan. “That was unnecessary,” she snapped once she’d regained her balance.
He lifted his chin in an oddly threatening way. “There’s more where that came from. Go do what you need to do, and I’ll meet you here in two hours.” He looked over his shoulder at the two guys guarding the door. “She doesn’t leave until I’m with her.”
Heat lashed her, and the headache disappeared with honest anger. She opened her mouth to let him have it, but he cut her off at the pass. “You don’t want to push me, blue eyes. Trust me.” His gaze was hard enough that she heeded his warning.
He wasn’t kidding. She swallowed. He’d do what was necessary to prove to the Pure that he was an ass. Instinct told her, deep down, that Damon Winter wasn’t a guy you pushed. Not even when he was playacting. Fine. She’d let him have it later. Turning on her thin sandal, she moved past the odd configuration of cement blocks and walked into the main meeting area where Sharon was waiting with a stack of papers in her hands, leaning back against one of the tables.
“Hi,” April said.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sharon said. Her smile widened as Damon obviously moved around the blocks and came into view. “Officer Winter. It’s good to see you again.”
“Thanks.” His voice was now nice and pleasant.
April bit back a snarl.
The pastor cleared his throat. He looked long and lean in casual jeans and a button-down shirt. “Damon, if you’d come with me. I’d sure like your opinion on our armory. To be honest, our soldiers are more homegrown and accustomed to shotguns. A few of these pieces are beyond my knowledge.”
“Sure thing.” Damon squeezed April’s arm. “I’ll see you shortly.”
Yeah. That sounded like a threat.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “Oh, you can count on that, Winter.”
12
When the woman gets her claws out, she’s sexier than I would’ve ever thought. I might be getting in over my head with this one.
—Damon Winter, Journal
The woman had used his last name for the first time, her voice more than a mite spunky. Damon checked his smile and followed Pastor King down a long hallway to a locked room at the end. She’d felt way too good hanging down his back. Something told him she’d never been tossed over a man’s shoulder. She sure as hell hadn’t had her ass smacked before.
The surprise and intrigue in her eyes had been genuine. As had the anger.
She was going to give it to him later. Something in him looked forward to it.
King opened the door and walked inside.
Damon whistled at the neatly lined-up weapons in lockers and spread across a huge, wooden table. “Jesus.” Shit. He’d just said that to a pastor. If King really were one. “Um, sorry about the language.”
King turned around, his green eyes sparkling. “I think the Lord will give you leeway considering we’re in the middle of a pandemic.”
The guy really was charismatic. In his jeans and casual wear, he looked like a buddy you’d go to a football game with. The preacher at Damon’s old church had been about ninety years old, but a great guy. Ex-cop, actually. “Sorry about the scene earlier.”
King shrugged. “Not my business. You’ve been dating for a while, and if that’s your dynamic, do what you have to do. The world is a dangerous place.”
Wasn’t it, though? “I figured you’d be upset.”
King’s eyebrows rose. “Why? You didn’t really hurt her, and she was more intrigued than angry. I saw no fear in her. Not an ounce.”
Damn it. The guy read people perfectly. Isn’t that what most cult leaders did? “What if you had seen fear?”
King winced. “Then I would’ve stepped in and probably got my ass kicked. I heard about the fight last night. You took out some decently trained Vanguard soldiers without much effort. You mask your abilities behind that thoughtful exterior, Damon Winter.”
“I accept the violence in me. Have since I took my first oath,” Damon murmured, tension f
orming at the base of his neck. It’d be a mistake to lie to King because he’d see right through it. The balancing act of giving enough truth and doing his job was definitely giving Damon a headache. “It’s helpful to know how to fight in this new world.”
“Isn’t that the truth? I’d appreciate it if you’d train some of my congregation. We need it.”
“What’s your story, anyway?” Damon concentrated on King but catalogued the weapons with his peripheral vision.
King took a Sig Sauer off the table and examined the weapon. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Tell me anyway.” Might as well act like the cop he used to be. Damon crossed his arms.
“Okay.” King set the weapon down, his gaze thoughtful. “I graduated from college with degrees in philosophy and psychology. The philosophy because it was where my heart was, and the psych because it’s where my dad said I could make money.” He smiled. “Dad was right. I worked for a few years and then returned to get my doctorate in philosophy. Then Scorpius hit.”
There were more weapons in the room than had been in Jax’s warehouse that had been raided. Damon had seen the manifest. Where had these come from? “Then what?”
King shrugged. “I didn’t catch the bacteria. Everyone else I knew did…and died. There had to be a reason, or none of it made sense.” His voice increased in strength.
None of this did make sense. Was that a Barrett MRAD sniper rifle in the corner? Where the hell had the Pure found that? No way had Mercury kept one of those in a weapons warehouse so far from headquarters where a couple of real-life snipers lived. “And?” Damon prompted.
“And? I feel like God called me to this. To form this group of people and protect them from the illness. Are you a religious man, Officer Winter?”
The use of his former title conveyed respect. Damon studied the guy. “I used to be.”
King’s eyes softened. “More than ever before, this is a time for faith. It’s all we have.”