Winter Igniting (Scorpius Syndrome Book 5)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Damon acted instantly, throwing his body over Maureen’s and trying to cushion her stomach as the building exploded. He hit the ground hard, partially rolling to keep her safe. Something sharp smashed into Damon’s head.

  He felt heat, then pain, then nothing.

  29

  How is it possible this man is still standing? I thought I knew strength before. Apparently not. Damon Winter is strength. The real kind.

  —April Snyder, Journal

  April barely kept from screaming her head off, the panic inside her was so great. Instead, she ran next to Atticus toward the infirmary at headquarters. It was dawn, but smoke blanketed the entire street, so she had to squint to see.

  She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes tearing from the smoke.

  The fire still burned in the adjacent building, and soldiers with shovels and axes threw dirt across it. One wall of bricks, scorched black, still stood.

  Damon had been hurt. Hours ago. While she sat in the safe basement with the kids, he’d been unconscious at the infirmary.

  They reached the back door to what used to be a free clinic, and Atticus yanked it open, panting heavily. She shouldn’t have made him run.

  She hurried inside and ran smack dab into Marcus Knight. It was like hitting a cement wall. She bounced back and started to go down until he grasped her arms and all but lifted her off her feet, holding her aloft until she stilled.

  His greenish-brown eyes were serious as he slowly put her down.

  “Um, thanks,” she whispered. He’d definitely kept her from falling hard.

  He nodded, eyed Atticus, and then stood to the side with his back to the wall. She shook off her panic and looked into the first room where two men were on beds, their skin burned. Both had cloths of some kind covering their arms and shoulders.

  She winced and moved past that room for the next one.

  Damon was sprawled over an examination table, his knees and legs hanging off the end and his shoulders off each side. His chest was bare and had soot all over it.

  Doc Penelope looked up from listening to his heartbeat. She removed the stethoscope. “He’s been unconscious for hours.”

  April’s legs trembled, but she forced herself to walk closer to the too-still man. A bandage ran above his right ear, and his head had been shaved, probably for the stitches. It made him look even tougher somehow. “What hit him?”

  “A brick,” Penelope said, leaning against the orange counter. “I had to take pieces out of his flesh and give him forty stitches. Good news is that his skull is intact. Bad news is that he definitely has a concussion. We need him to awaken.”

  Marcus appeared in the doorway.

  Penelope looked up. “I’m needed in the other room?”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Talk to him,” Penelope said. “I can’t find any other injuries, so it’s just his head. Though that’s bad enough.” The petite woman hustled away.

  The room spun crazily around April. Her daughter had died in the room next to this. Okay. This was a different time and a different life. She had to tell herself that to survive, and if it was crazy, then too bad. “Damon.” Her legs shook, but she levered up by his head and touched his shoulder. “Wake up.”

  He didn’t move.

  His shoulders were bare without any of the previous bandages, showing his injuries. More stitches.

  “You’re almost a pincushion,” she whispered, looking around and finding a folded chair by the far wall. Her body feeling a thousand years old, she lugged it over to sit next to him. She took his large hand, marveling at the size. Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. While she didn’t much believe, Damon did, so that had to count for something.

  A shadow crossed the door, and Greyson walked silently inside. Black soot marred his entire face, and it looked as if his neck had sustained a burn. He wore filthy jeans and no shirt.

  April hadn’t gotten much of a chance to know Damon’s best friend. “What happened?” she asked, shocked that her voice didn’t crack.

  Torment filled Grey’s eyes as he looked down at Damon. “He protected Maureen and the baby when a bomb blew.” As if he couldn’t help himself, he took Damon’s other hand. “Even turned his body to protect the baby and Moe’s stomach, but that exposed his head to flying debris.”

  A brick to the head? It was a miracle his skull hadn’t shattered.

  Grey’s laugh was almost a growl. “His skull must be made of solid rock.”

  “That’s what I was just thinking,” April whispered, keeping her chin on his still-warm skin. “Are Maureen and the baby okay?”

  Greyson’s eyes darkened. “Yes. Damon took all the impact. He saved them.”

  “A bomb went off?” she blurted. “Inside the territory?”

  “Yes, but we haven’t been able to get close enough to check it out. The fire is too hot.” Greyson reached for another chair to unfold and then sat. “Thought I’d check on Damon. He’s been out too long.” He nudged Damon’s shoulder. “Wake up. We have work to do.”

  The unconscious man didn’t move.

  April kissed Damon’s neck, realizing it was wet. From what? She leaned back. Oh. Tears were sliding down her face. She impatiently wiped them away.

  “You’ve been good for him,” Greyson murmured.

  She jerked. “How so? He’s been shot, and now he’s taken a brick to the head.”

  “Yeah, but the in-between times have made him happy. I didn’t know the guy could whistle until he met you.” Greyson wiped dirt off Damon’s arm.

  He whistled all the time now. “It’s surprising how many songs he knows,” she said.

  Greyson nodded. “I know, right? It’s the jazz songs that throw me. Damon doesn’t seem like a jazz type of guy.”

  “It was the first country song I heard that surprised me.” She smiled, trying not to cry. “And it wasn’t a tough-guy country song from Garth Brooks or Kenny Chesney.”

  “Reba McIntire?” Grey asked, his lips twitching.

  She nodded. “Yeah. A slow ballad. And he knew every note.”

  “The guy has unexpected gifts,” Greyson snorted. Then he sobered. “Though he needs to wake the hell up. Now.”

  Marcus Knight poked his head into the room, no doubt on Doc Penelope’s orders.

  April shook her head. “He hasn’t moved, Marcus.”

  Marcus’s frown made him look deadlier than ever. He lifted his chin and then disappeared down the hallway again.

  Greyson looked up at her. “Damon ever tell you how we met?”

  She rubbed the whiskers on Damon’s chin. “No. What happened?”

  “He saved my life,” Greyson said. “I had just started to establish Mercenary territory in Santa Barbara and was out scouting for guns and medical supplies. A group of Rippers descended upon me.”

  She stilled. “Rippers working together? Like a pack?” They were just humans who’d gone so insane that they were animalistic. But she’d always heard they worked alone.

  Greyson nodded. “Yeah. Like a pack of hyenas. I started fighting them, and I was losing. Damon came out of nowhere and instantly had my back.”

  “He’s a good fighter,” she murmured.

  “The best. We started talking, and he had some phenomenal ideas for security and enforcement. Before I knew it, we were running the Mercs together.” Greyson rubbed soot away from his left eye. “Truth be told, he’s been the conscience of the Mercs since he joined. Without him, I’m not sure where or who we’d be.”

  He was definitely a good man. She had to shake herself as a reminder that he wasn’t her man. Sure, she cared about him. How could she not? But this was just further evidence that she needed to put the brakes on. Nobody, not even Damon Winter, could tempt fate like this so many times and survive. “I’m glad he has you, Greyson.”

  Grey pushed dirt off his hard abs. “I’m glad he has you.”

  April shook her head before she could stop herself. “We’re casual.
I mean, we like each other, but it’s not a have type of situation.” Did that make sense? She wasn’t explaining this very well.

  “Uh-huh.” Greyson didn’t look up from his stomach and, instead, pushed more soot off. “This stuff itches.”

  April opened her mouth and then closed it. She tried again. “I’m not saying I don’t care about him because I do. But we’ve agreed to no commitment. Life is just too dangerous. Not that we’re seeing other people or anything like that. Just that this is, well, casual.” Was she babbling now? She felt like she was babbling.

  Greyson looked up then, giving her the full force of his odd gray-green-slightly blue gaze. “That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve been dating a short time, and you’ve blossomed like I’ve never seen any woman do. And my brother here? He’s whistling. Like, for real.” Greyson shook his head, and white dust from the ash flew in every direction. “Tell yourself what you want. But don’t lie to me.”

  Irritation clawed through her fear. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Storm. Look at him.” She swept her hand above Damon’s prone body. “He’s out cold right now.”

  “So? He has a tough head,” Greyson countered, the worry in his expression contradicting the carefree words. “He could be an inner-territory mechanic, and he’d still be in danger. This world defines danger these days.”

  April wiped grime off Damon’s chin. At least he wasn’t burned anywhere. “Wake up,” she whispered.

  Greyson sat back in his chair. “He’s not an undercover type of guy. At all.”

  She looked up. “What do you mean?”

  Grey blew out air. “Damon. He’s the first through the door, not a secret agent. His plan would’ve been to bust open the front wall of Pure and see what was happening inside.”

  What was the man’s point? “Jax wanted an undercover op,” April countered, her heart beating faster.

  “Exactly. Damon would’ve been just fine with Jax conducting an undercover operation. He would’ve rolled his eyes and told Jax to give him a call when it was time for boots to doors.” Greyson stretched out his legs, and soot dropped to the cracked tile floor. “Then he would’ve stayed out of the way until he was needed.”

  April’s mind spun, and her breath quickened. “Damon is a cop. A good one.”

  “He’s SWAT.” Greyson waved a burned hand through the air. “Or, at least, he was. Briefly. There’s one reason, and one only that he agreed to infiltrate the Pure church and play their game.”

  Her throat closed too much to swallow. “You’re wrong.” But was he?

  Grey’s gaze raked her. “I didn’t understand it either. When he told me about the plan, I thought he was joking. Then I met you. Saw him near you.”

  Every second Damon remained unconscious, it hurt her. Somehow. “I already admitted we’re attracted to each other.” She met Grey’s gaze head-on. “And it’s totally him to save somebody. To see that a person needs help. He was worried about me.”

  Grey nodded. “That’s true. He did go in to make sure you were covered.”

  Yes, there had been attraction between them from their first meeting. She had tried to ignore it, but look how well that had worked out. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

  Greyson sat straighter and nudged Damon’s arm. “You’re right. Naptime is over. Wake up, buddy.”

  Damon shifted lightly on the table. “Who can sleep with you two droning on and on?”

  30

  I’m getting real tired of being attacked. It’s time to take out every enemy we have. It’s the only way I can keep April safe.

  —Damon Winter, Journal

  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 woul
d 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.”