Damon whistled a hard rock tune as he returned to April’s apartment with two bagels and some Pop-Tarts the scouts had found the previous week. The Pop-Tarts, not the bagels. Those were freshly made and actually smelled delicious.

The cooks were using generator power to create, and at some point, they were going to run out of fuel.

Not today, though. Today, he had fresh bagels.

He pushed inside her apartment, and she sat at the table, her hair wet from her shower. It curled around her face and hung down her back. “Morning.”

She looked up from a list she’d been making. “Hi.” Her smile brightened an already bright day. “Bagels.”

“Yes. Atticus already took a bunch to the kids, so you don’t need to worry about them.” He sat and handed over the fragrant bread before taking a bite of his own. It was soft and warm—and pretty much the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten. “We have to figure out a way to keep the power going.”

She took a bite and moaned, her eyelashes fluttering.

The woman looked the same way when she climaxed. He grinned. At least he was as good as a fresh bagel. Then he cleared his throat. “All right. Tell me about your night.” The part before he’d fucked her against a wall. His cock jerked at the memory. Yep. Gonna do that again.

“Well, it was an odd one.” She started telling the story, and his body tensed one muscle at a time until she was through.

Not only was there a man they didn’t know in the apartment building, but King had caught her where she shouldn’t be. Damon’s mouth had gone dry minutes before.

April finished talking, her gaze narrowing on him. “You okay?”

No. Fucking no, not at all. Was she freaking demented? “Yes. Just a little concerned about the danger you might’ve been in.” It was a miracle his voice remained steady. “If this Jerome is a threat, he might’ve taken you out before you could report him. Or if King is a threat, same thing since he found you snooping.”

She twisted her lip in thought. “I just didn’t feel like I was in danger.”

All right. Instincts counted, but so did training. And she had none. Zero. Zilch. “What about the breeding chart? Your thoughts?” He had to keep her talking while he calmed himself down. She was here, she was safe, and he’d keep her that way.

She rubbed her chin. “I believed Pastor King. He’s not on the chart, and he seems to think it’s a little silly. Then he said I look like Cherry Valance.”

Damon sat back. Holy crap, she did look like Cherry Valance. Every guy who’d had to watch that movie in senior English class had had a dream or two about Cherry. Oh, he’d had to read the book for a report, too. But the film was what stuck in everyone’s mind. The movie and Cherry. “The chart could’ve been falsified.”

“Maybe.”

If King wasn’t in it to procreate right off the bat, what was his angle? Was it truly just to keep the uninfected safe? It didn’t feel right, but Damon was off-center when it came to April. King wanted her. There was no question.

That messed with Damon’s reasoning skills.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she murmured, playing with a wrapped Pop-Tart. “Still mad at me?”

“No,” he said instantly. “We dealt with that last night.”

Pink infused her face. “Yes, we did.”

Amusement filled his chest. “I meant before the sex Olympics.” God, she was cute. It was getting hotter outside, but he’d be up for another round if she wanted.

Her frown drew down both finely arched eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He paused. Even her scowl was endearing. But her words didn’t make sense. “I’m not following.”

“No. I’m not following.” She crossed her arms over her black T-shirt that paired way too nicely with her cut-off jeans shorts. “I thought we made up last night.”

“We did.” Big time with him inside her—where he wanted to be right now.

Her posture relaxed. “All right, then. What’s our next move with the Pure? I’m thinking I should go back in and maybe flirt with King a little.”

No. Hell to the triple of no. Damon studied her, his mind clicking facts into place. “I said you’re off the op.”

“Then we made up.” Frustration crossed her smooth expression. “Right?”

Huh. All right. “I was mad at you, and we made up. Yes.” He rubbed the non-hurting part of his smooth head. “But that doesn’t change my decision on the op. You’re done.” Hadn’t he been more than clear the night before?

“And now I’m back in.”

“Sex doesn’t get you back in. It doesn’t get you anywhere, no matter how fucking great it was.” He explained gently because she truly wasn’t getting him.

Her eyes flashed a shocking blue. “Excuse me?”

Well, that had insulted her. Definitely not his intention. He cleared his throat. “On a personal level, we were fighting and made up. On a professional level, I made a decision with the facts available to me, and that sticks. The two are separate.”

“You took me off the op because you were angry,” she protested.

“No.” He didn’t make decisions like that out of emotion. Not really. “You disobeyed orders and put yourself in danger that was unnecessary and unwise. As the point person on this op, I took you right off as I would with anybody working for me. As your boyfriend, I smacked your ass. Something I’m feeling might happen again, and rather soon. There’s a difference, and you might want to learn it now.” Although this would be the last op she’d be on, at least if he had his way.

Her mouth opened and then snapped shut with enough force that he wanted to wince. She glared at him, expressions crossing her face in rapid succession as she thought it through.

He waited patiently. Even though he was a boot-to-the-door kind of cop, patience dictated that he wait until the right moment to move. He could wait all day for her. She was worth it.

Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t want to make you mad, but no. I’m going back in.”

Interesting. He liked this spirited side of her. A lot. Keeping her gaze, he reached into his back pocket and drew out one of their few still-working radios to lift to his mouth. “Winter here. All seven squads watching the Pure building, check in.”

“Squad one in place,” came the first low voice.

“Squad two in position,” came over the radio next, followed by the other five squads, each going in order.

Damon counted their positions in his head. An eighth squad would be overkill, yet he was still tempted. These were both inside and outside the fence, and one was even up high. “Acknowledged,” he said. “Additional directive. April Snyder is not to get within ten yards of the Pure apartment building. She should be stopped if seen. A fireman’s carry is permissible, if—and only if—absolutely necessary. Please acknowledge.”

April’s eyes widened, and her chin lowered like a cat about to strike.

“Squad one, acknowledged new directive,” came the first voice.

As each squad acknowledged his new orders, April’s face flushed. First pink, then crimson, then a deep red.

Finally, he slipped the radio back into place. “Any questions, baby?”

* * *

Any questions? Yeah. How could he be such a complete ass? She tried to find a way out of the box he’d just put her in, but there was no solution. Those soldiers, even the Vanguard ones, would stick to his orders. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Her throat hurt with the need to scream at him. But if he were staying in control, so was she.

“There are consequences, April.” He was so calm he might as well be meditating.

Consequences? What was this? Third grade? “You are such a control freak.”

His chuckle was rich and warmed inappropriate places inside her. “Look who’s talking.”

“Me?” She reared back.

“Oh, yeah. Cute Miss Clipboard has tried to take control of this op from the beginning.” He shook his head. “You’ve ignored orders the entire time, doing what you want.”

She swallowed. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Those inappropriate places inside her warmed more. This unmovable side of him was kind of sexy. Okay. Majorly sexy. Most people didn’t outsmart her. Ever. The fact that he just did sparked her nerves wide-awake. “I wanted to help people. Those Pure women and kids.”

“I know,” he said, softly. “Your heart is in the right place, and I like that you want to assist folks who might need it. You’re a good person.”

She settled down, not quite sure where he was going. “All right.”

He smiled. “You also wanted to take control and do whatever you wanted.” He leaned back and studied her with freaky hawk-like concentration. “And I think you wanted to push me.”

“Push you?” she burst out, her heart racing for some reason. How could that be true? “Why?”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Maybe I’ve been too gentle with you. Taken it too slow.” His words were thoughtful, his gaze piercing.

“Gentle?” she gasped. “I have a hickey on my shoulder and bite marks on my ass.”

“You can still walk,” he shot back instantly.

She blinked. Her thighs rubbed together, and she barely kept a moan from escaping. This conversation was quickly spiraling way away from where she wanted it to be. She shook her head to clear it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m in control on the op whether you like it or not. It’s up to you if I take control personally.”

She made a strangled sound.

“But if you give it over, baby, I ain’t giving it back,” he said, looking big and powerful in her small kitchen. “So think that one through completely before you throw down another challenge. Especially if you make the colossal mistake of throwing the challenge by doing something dangerous or plain-ass stupid. Again.”

She threw her hands out. “How can I do anything stupid? You just guaranteed that if I try to go near Pure again, some Neanderthal of a soldier will haul me back here as punishment.”

His gaze somehow darkened even more. “Oh, sweetheart. The punishment happens when they inform me they had to put hands on you.” He didn’t move but somehow still took over the entire atmosphere of the kitchen.

She swallowed. “Excuse me?” It didn’t come out nearly as forceful as earlier.

“I feel like I haven’t been as clear as I’d like when it comes to the op. So, here it is. If one of those guys has to put hands on you because you’re trying to go where I told you not to go, we’re going to have a very uncomfortable conversation afterward.” He leaned forward.

She frowned, heat billowing through her head. “You’re kidding.”

“No. You disobey orders, there are consequences. The consequences will make it not fun for you to sit for a while.”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find a word. The man was deadly serious.

His voice softened. “In a non-work capacity, just let me know when you want me taking over. That may also involve my hand on your ass and an erotic esson, but it’ll be of the more personal nature, and I guarantee you’ll enjoy it, if you know what I mean.”

Whoa. Way out of her realm of experience. Yet her breasts suddenly ached, and her panties were wet. Thank goodness she was wearing denim shorts. “I don’t like this side of you,” she said primly.

His grin was all wolf. “Liar.”