Damon slowly opened his eyes as a jackhammer slammed inside his head. “Is Maureen okay?”

“Yes. I owe you everything, and we’ll talk about that later.” Greyson leaned over him, his eyes worried. “Maureen and the baby are fine. How do you feel?”

“Like I got smashed in the head. What happened?” The room spun around Damon.

April’s sweet lips brushed his forehead. “You got hit in the head by a brick.”

Well, then he felt exactly like he should. He pushed himself to sit, and his head nearly blew off. His stomach lurched, and he swallowed rapidly to keep from puking. He had to wait a minute before speaking again. “How long have I been out?”

“Hours,” Greyson said soberly. “Doc Penelope gave you forty stitches.”

“My skull okay?” Damon asked, not sure he wanted the answer to that.

April nodded, her small hands patting his chest and shoulder. “Yes. She said your skull was completely intact but that your brain was definitely bruised. So no metal plate or anything.”

That went in the plus column. He focused on the far wall, waiting until it morphed into something he recognized. “Status of the fire?”

“Burning down to embers last I checked,” Grey said. “We lost the entire building but managed to save all of the surrounding structures, including where the kids are housed. Had to dig a bunch of trenches, and we used all four barrels of water, which didn’t make Mercury happy.”

Damon swung his legs over the edge of the table.

“Whoa.” April grabbed both of his shoulders from behind. “What are you doing?”

Dizziness slapped him again. He tried to focus on Greyson, who hadn’t moved. “Injuries?”

“A few burn victims, a broken arm, two broken legs, and a concussion,” Grey said easily. “Everybody is going to survive.”

Good news. Damon sucked in air and gripped the edge of the table.

“Stop.” Doc Penelope appeared in the doorway. “You don’t move from that position.”

April sighed in what sounded like relief. “Thank goodness.”

The doctor moved in front of him, easily stepping over Greyson’s outstretched legs. She looked into Damon’s eyes. “Follow my fingers.”

He did so and kept the wince off his face as his eyeballs tried to explode.

“Hmmm.” She peered closer. “How bad do you hurt right now?”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Not my first concussion.” Probably wouldn’t be his last, either.

She straightened. “All right. I suggest you take it easy for the next several days. I don’t have an MRI machine or a CT scanner, so I don’t know the extent of the damage. If you feel sick or dizzy or start losing your memory or begin passing out, come back.” The doctor turned on her heel and headed for the door where Marcus Knight waited.

“That’s all?” April called out.

“Yep,” Penelope called back. “Unless you want to tie him to the table, I don’t see what else to do.”

April grabbed Damon’s arm and leaned around to apparently see Greyson. “Do something.”

Grey stood. “Okay.” He held out an arm. “Let’s get you out of here.”

This time, April’s sigh was more of a growl. “You’ve been awake for about five minutes. Don’t you think you should lie back down and get your bearings?”

Aw, she was worried about him. That warmed him right up. She truly was a sweetheart. “Honey, it really isn’t my first concussion.” He stood and leaned on Greyson until his balance returned. Mostly returned, anyway. “I can’t just rest on this very uncomfortable table for the next several hours until I feel better.”

“He did sleep all night,” Greyson added helpfully.

Damon shot him a grin, but it felt pained. “True. I’ve probably had my quota of sleep for the week.”

“Maybe the month,” Greyson agreed.

“This isn’t funny,” April exploded. “Stop joking.”

Damon released Grey and stood to his full height. His head pounded, his left leg hurt, and his stomach felt as if he’d been repeatedly punched. “If we don’t laugh, we’ll start worrying.” He studied her. She’d been crying, and that was another punch to the gut. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Honest.” Though it’d be nice if the drumset in his head would go silent for a few moments.

“You are not fine.” Her PTA-president voice was in full effect.

He paused. Man, she was sexy.

Greyson sidled toward the door. “What if we just take in the fire scene for a few minutes, and then he can go rest some more?”

Damon gaped at his friend. Greyson Storm, the leader of the feared Mercenaries and former badass sniper, was negotiating with April like a kid asking for an extra cookie. “What are you doing?” he muttered.

Greyson gave an aw-shucks expression that almost knocked Damon into a coma. “Just one lap around the fire scene, and then he’s all yours, April.”

April tapped her foot. The woman actually tapped her foot. “All right.”

Damon didn’t know whom to snap at, but since his head was about to fall off his shoulders, he decided wisely not to raise his voice. Instead, he gingerly strode for the doorway. Greyson stood to the side, watching closely, obviously ready to catch him if he fell. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

Greyson nodded. “I know.” Yet he didn’t move away.

April rushed out of the room and slid her arm around his waist. She smelled like baby powder for some reason. “All right. One lap around the fire and then we go rest. You promised.”

Actually, he hadn’t promised a damn thing.

They reached the end of the hallway, and Marcus stepped out of the office by the door. “You’ll want these.”

Damon accepted the sunglasses with pure gratitude. “Thank you.” Marcus might’ve just become his second best friend in the entire world. The glasses slid on smoothly, and Damon’s eyes were protected from the sun.

His head felt better already. Kind of.

Smoke shrouded the entire street outside. The glasses were tinted, turning the world a deep blueish-gray. He walked through the smoke, April plastered to his left side, and Greyson close to his right. “I’m fine, you two.”

“Right.” Greyson kept close. “I ain’t letting anything happen to you. Ever.”

Oh, man. “Grey, it was Moe. I’d never let her be harmed. You don’t owe me.”

Greyson kept walking through the thick smoke. “I said we’d talk about it later. Once I can figure out what to say.”

Soot-covered soldiers scurried around, placing dirt in front of houses and stomping out any remaining embers.

They reached the corner of the burned building. One wall of bricks, crumbling and blackened, still stood past the first story. In the middle, burning wood and other materials formed heated embers that a crew was trying to douse with dirt.

Jax Mercury tossed a shovel to another guy and strode their way, soot covering his face and his shorter hair standing on end. “Damon. How you feeling?”

“Good.” Damon coughed and then waited for his head to explode. The pain was nearly unbearable. “What do we have?”

Quincy moved out from behind another stack of downed bricks and headed over. He untied the bandana from around his mouth and spit a couple of times. “It ain’t good, my friends.” He leaned over and coughed several times before straightening. Ashes covered his thick, black hair and even his eyelashes. He was as tall as Damon with startling green eyes. “I’ve found two rockets, several broken bottles from a secondary attack of Molotov cocktails, and two bombs.”

“Bombs?” April gasped, her hand splayed across Damon’s abdomen.

Quincy nodded. “Found the switches. Pretty rudimentary, but they did the job, no?”

Damon’s lungs burned. How had these guys worked all night against this fire? “I don’t suppose there’s any way the bombs were just tossed in here like the rockets?”

“Not a chance,” Quincy confirmed.

Jax spit out ashes. “Let me get this straight. We have a coordinated attack that consisted of first two rockets, and then Molotov cocktails thrown from the other side of the fence? And, subsequently, two bombs were set to go off in the building and successfully did so?”

Quincy coughed again and then nodded. “In a nutshell.”

Wonderful. “Any sign of the perp?” Damon asked tersely. The gangs in the area liked to leave a calling card.

“Yeah.” Jax pulled a purple bandana out of his back pocket. “We found several of these on the red truck outside the fence. They’re not trying to hide who they are. Twenty is stepping up their attacks, no doubt at the president’s behest.”

No doubt. Damon’s head rang, but he could think clearly. “We need to strike back and fast. Let them know there are consequences.”

Greyson kicked over a burning ember. “We also need to find the traitor inside the territory. Who set the bombs from inside? Somebody has to have seen something.”

Damon winced. “Maybe. Everyone has been staying indoors as much as possible. It’d be easy to traverse inside the territory without being seen moving if somebody was already here inside.” He turned toward Quincy. “Would the materials used be hard to find or put together?”

“No,” Quincy said. “We have several storage depots with explosives we’ve taken from construction sites. Anybody with even limited knowledge of explosives could’ve rigged these up.”

Damon clicked through the facts. “But the bomber in the territory must’ve met with the Twenty gang outside at some point to coordinate. We’re looking at a scout or soldier.” Probably. Most likely, anyway.

Jax nodded. “I guess we start interviewing our people. I’ll get Vinnie in on this. She’s working as our shrink, but she was an FBI profiler before Scorpius. She’s good, too.” The Vanguard leader looked like his head hurt as bad as Damon’s. The guy was definitely being stretched in several directions.

“Jax.” Raze Shadow jogged up, wearing ripped and sooty clothing. “I patrolled outside, looking for anything off. This was secured to a post with a Twenty purple bandana.” He handed over a folded piece of paper.

Jax unfolded the note to see Marcus Knight’s face on some sort of medical form. Jax’s face hardened.

“What is it?” Damon leaned closer.

“One sheet of a report from a Bunker where they experimented on Marcus,” Jax said, his gaze burning. “Says they broke his bones to see how quickly he would heal.”

Smoke filled Damon’s nose, and he sneezed. Pain ricocheted through his brain like a buzz saw. His eyes pricked with more pain. He cleared his throat. “Why would the Twenty gang have that and want you to see it?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Jax shoved the paper into his back pocket. “Nobody say anything to Marcus about this. I’ll talk to him when I have more information.” He studied Damon. “I want to hit back at Twenty tonight. Then tomorrow night, we’ll take the Bunker.”

Damon nodded. “I’m ready.” If his head stayed on his neck.

Greyson stepped between them before April could move. “You’re not on tonight, Winter. We’ll see how your head is tomorrow before deciding on the Bunker.”

Damon wanted to argue, but as he was at present, he’d be a liability. “Fine, but let me look over the plan for all three houses. There are good exit strategies that we need to examine.”

“No problem,” Jax said.

April tugged Damon toward her. “Now, we’re going to get some real sleep,” she said, her voice chock-full of authority.

Nobody argued with her.

In fact, Jax grinned, and Greyson shuffled his feet. Quincy just nodded.

Amusement overtook Damon, and he let her turn him toward her apartment. “You’re kind of bossy,” he murmured.

“Get used to it,” she replied.

Huh. Maybe he would.