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 can’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.”