Winter Igniting

  Damon’s mom might’ve liked this guy. She was all about the faith. Then she’d died in a pandemic. “So you have this big calling?”

  “Sure.” Pastor King picked up a Glock and rolled it around in his hands. “Don’t you feel the same?”

  “No.” Actually, Damon had been searching for purpose and meaning. Finding Greyson and the Mercs had seemed a good fit, and he’d provided security and good council during the time it was needed. Yet something in him, something deep, had a restlessness he couldn’t tame. He ignored it the best he could. “I’m just doing what I need to do.”

  “Going through the motions, huh?” King zeroed in.

  Damon exhaled. Was that what he was doing?

  King stacked some boxes of bullets. “Have you even grieved all the people you lost?” There was curiosity and an odd tone of understanding in his voice.

  “Yeah,” Damon said softly. He’d been laid flat, and it had taken a lot of time to stand back up. “But you have to make a choice. Give up or go on. So I moved on.” This guy was way too easy to talk to.

  “Me, too,” King said, looking over the myriad handguns across the wide table as if he couldn’t believe he was dealing with firearms. He frowned and reached for a snub-nosed pistol to spin on the wood. “This world just doesn’t make sense anymore. There has to be a purpose, though. There has to be meaning here.”

  For the first time, the guy sounded almost lost.

  Damon wanted to find reassuring words, but was there a purpose? Bacteria had taken out most of the human population, ending civilization as they’d known it. No internet, no electricity, no laws any longer. How could there be a purpose in any of that? “Sometimes, I think God gave up on us.” He’d never admitted that to anybody. Not even Greyson.

  King’s chin lowered to his chest for a moment. “I really believe that’s when faith comes in. It’s easy to believe when life is rainbows and sunshine. The true test comes in times like these.”

  “I guess I haven’t had time to worry about believing,” Damon admitted. “Survival is first, and I figured I’d worry about faith later.”

  King nodded. “I get that.” He rubbed an almost-gone bruise on his cheekbone.

  “What happened there anyway?” Damon had heard rumors, but he hadn’t been present.

  King sighed. “I met with Mercury and his men, and I was being an ass. Was dealing with terrified folks in my church who wanted to be left alone, and then went to talk to Mercury. He became insistent. I got rude with Sami Steel. There’s no excuse. Her boyfriend went nuts on me.”

  Ah. Tace Justice, the medic for Vanguard. Yeah. The guy was a former soldier. If he wanted to inflict damage, he could. “Sorry about that.”

  “I deserved it. Plus, Justice had just survived the infection, and he wasn’t in his right mind. Rumor has it, he still isn’t.” King’s inflection held no judgment, just fact.

  It was true that Scorpius created sociopaths. Some were still decent people, just with a lack of emotion. And some became serial killers. There was no way to know the long-term effects of the illness. “He’s better now.” Probably. Damon hadn’t spent enough time around him to really know.

  “Maybe. But we don’t know what happens next.” King lifted his head, his eyes a piercing green. “So far, anybody infected with Scorpius hasn’t been able to carry a child to full term, right?”

  “So far,” Damon agreed. But the science was out. “There are at least two women in Vanguard who survived the infection, and they’re still pregnant.” He scratched his head. “There are probably a lot more out there in the world, but our lines of communication aren’t great.”

  King shook his head. “The two in Vanguard are in their first trimesters. They won’t make it to the third, and you know it. Nobody has.”

  “We don’t know that.” Damon reached for a scratched pistol. The thing looked about a hundred years old. “Where did you get this?”

  “We have our own scouts,” King said. “Plus, a lot of these were here when the former pastor was. I took over when he was, ah…killed.” King leaned forward. “I know he kidnapped one of the Vanguard scientists, and I had nothing to do with that. I’d never do anything to hurt a woman. My calling wouldn’t allow for anything like that.”

  The guy had an answer for everything, didn’t he? Maybe it was all the truth. Maybe not. “Your calling?”

  “Yes. To lead this church somewhere safe and then look to the future.” Frustration drew King’s eyebrows down. “There has to be purpose. The future must be it.”

  Ah. The future. “You think it’s your job to continue the human race?”

  “Somebody has to,” King said. “What if I’m right? What if Scorpius survivors will never be able to carry a child to full term? Don’t we have a duty to ensure our survival? Every nationality, every race, every genetic conglomeration there is?”

  Damon snorted. “You think I have a duty to procreate because I’m black?”

  “I think you have a duty to procreate because you can,” King stressed. “Nearly ninety-nine percent of the world’s population died from the pandemic. Of the people still living, only about five percent haven’t contracted the illness. That’s a small percentage on which to rebuild.”

  There was logic in the statement that Damon couldn’t dispute. But he didn’t like it. “What if somebody doesn’t want to add to the human race?” Where were those pregnant women Jax had seen?

  King scoffed. “Then they don’t. Honestly. I’m not keeping a stable of women around here to have babies.”

  Fine. Time to lay it on the table. “Where are the pregnant women? I know there are some.”

  King sighed. “They’re wherever they want to be. For the record, they’re scared to death of catching the illness while pregnant, so no way will they meet with Mercury. And I won’t force them.”

  “Then have them meet with me,” Damon said. “I’m pure, as you say.”

  King nodded. “Take the test, and if you pass it, I’ll let you meet with anybody you want.”

  Man, Damon couldn’t get a bead on this guy. Everything he said made sense. Yet Damon’s instincts still tingled. Was it just the danger of the entire situation? Was it Jax’s irritation at having a group not within his control in Vanguard? Or was it something more? “Where’s the test? Let’s do that now.”

  13

  So far, I haven’t found anything wrong with the Pure church. But still…something is bugging me. Maybe it’s just that I’m not in charge of it.

  —April Snyder, Journal

  April finished touring the area for the kids, noting a few younger boys wrestling over on the floor in the younger kids’ rec room. She’d met several, and so far, they ranged from three to ten years old. “Where are the teenagers?” she asked Sharon.

  “Learning in the classrooms,” Sharon said, leading April into the teenagers’ rec room complete with beanbags. “This is where they hang out when they’re not in class.” The empty room was wide and had a pool table and a ping-pong table behind the beanbags and sofa.

  Sunlight streamed in through the windows, heating the room. Even so, it was a pleasant space.

  “Have a seat.” Sharon took a seat in a beanbag, and April followed suit, laughing as she sank in. She blinked. When was the last time she’d laughed?

  Sharon settled, and the beans in her bag shuffled. “Isn’t it nice not to worry about being infected? Just for an afternoon?”

  April swallowed. She didn’t have the right answer to that question.

  Pastor King suddenly filled the doorway. “I don’t think April has cared about being infected or even surviving for quite some time.”

  April’s breath caught.

  He smiled, his gaze gentle. “Have you?”

  “No.” Her chin lifted. She’d lost everything. Why lie?

  “I don’t blame you.” King moved inside gracefully, looking more like a drummer in a band than a preacher. With his ripped jeans and dark shirt, he was more approachable than he’d appear
ed the night before at the somewhat fancy dinner. “I felt the same way when my fiancée died.”

  “Oh.” April looked behind him, but the doorway remained empty. “I’m sorry.”

  “So was I.” He sat on the couch, his hands clasped between his knees. This close, calluses were obvious. He’d worked with his hands at some point.

  She frowned.

  He glanced down at his hands. “Before Scorpius, I used to rebuild engines for fun.” His voice deepened, and his smile slid away. “My dad and I…it was our thing.”

  April’s chest ached. “Scorpius?”

  King shook himself out of it and looked up. “Yeah.” His smile was rueful and tinged with sadness. “The bacteria took everyone, right?”

  She nodded. That was the sad truth. Even though she was probably a couple of years the pastor’s senior, he seemed older than her somehow. That could be part of his charisma, or maybe he did have something going on religion-wise. Who knew? That was way out of her experience. “Where’s Damon?”

  Now King rolled his green eyes. “Going through every storage locker and room I have containing either weapons or defense equipment. I thought he was going to kiss me when he found a cache of bulletproof vests.”

  Kiss him? More likely punch him. “You stole those from Jax,” April said.

  “Actually,”—King smiled wider—“the last guy who ran this church stole from Jax. I’m giving the vests back. It’s only fair.”

  Well. April studied the handsome man, trying to get inside his head. Was he actually a decent guy? Or was he just that smooth? Intelligence shone from his green eyes, and he filled out the T-shirt like he worked out daily. “I’m not a real fan of God right now,” she murmured.

  His chuckle was both surprised and genuine. “I don’t imagine many people are. Were you before Scorpius?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t know much about Him. Grew up in foster care and then formed a family. Didn’t really go to church regularly.” Would that make the pastor dislike her?

  He nodded. “Growing up, my family went to church on Christmas and Easter.” His shrug moved very nice muscles. “I didn’t find God until I lost everything else.” He stretched out his long legs. “The funny thing was that Annie, my fiancée, was trying to get me to attend church with her all the time, and I never did.” His chest moved with his heavy exhale. “I wish I had.”

  April looked for the door again.

  “We want you to join us here,” King said easily. “You know that already, but I thought I should say it out loud. You and Damon.”

  Her and Damon. She couldn’t leave the kids she cared for, even if she wanted to. They needed her. But this was a mission, and she had to play it cool. “We know,” she murmured. “There aren’t many uninfected people in Vanguard. That we know about anyway.” She tried to find fault with anything he’d said so far. “What’s your plan? Just stay in Vanguard, isolated? For how long?”

  “Until we all leave,” he said, drawing in his legs and leaning toward her. “We’re all going to have to move north soon, and when we do, I’m hoping to find a nice place for our people. For the uninfected people to keep us safe.”

  “Why not leave now?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

  He shook his head, and the sunlight glimmered across the fading bruises on his face. “The Twenty gang is out there, as well as numerous other predators, and we don’t have the soldiers we need. If Damon came on board, it’d help a lot. But still, we’d require Vanguard security to get safely out of the city.”

  Maybe. The president was still gunning for Vanguard, so maybe not. “I’m not the key to Damon,” April said softly, feeling out the pastor. Just how hard would he push?

  “You might be,” King said simply. “He wants you safe, and he’s obviously staked a claim.” He held up a hand. “I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

  Her ass still tingled from Damon’s two slaps. “I’d think a pastor would have a problem with the way Damon carried me in here.” She looked from King to Sharon and back again. “Yet neither of you have said anything.”

  Sharon shrugged. “To each his own. I don’t know your relationship.”

  King scratched his head. “I don’t want to interfere. But if you’re in danger or need help, all you have to do is ask. Is he a threat to you?”

  A threat? Hell, yes. Not in the physical sense, though. Not really. But Damon Winter took everything about her and tilted it. He tempted her in a way that just wasn’t all right in the crappy world these days. “He wouldn’t hurt me,” she said.

  “That’s what I thought, but I needed to make sure,” King said, his eyes sharp.

  “Would you forgo having him as security if I had said yes?” April asked, tilting her head.

  King nodded. “In a heartbeat. There’s right, and there’s wrong. I can’t lead this church if I don’t know the difference.”

  Man, he was good. Was he being honest?

  “April?” Damon suddenly filled the doorway, much more than the pastor had earlier. “How’s it going?” He loped gracefully into the room, his eyebrows rising at the blue beanbag next to her.

  She couldn’t help the chuckle that let loose. The idea of somebody with Damon’s muscled size dropping into a beanbag gave her the first light moment of the entire day. “What? Too far down for you?”

  He frowned. “It’s not the drop, it’s the ascension. Not sure I could get out of it.” He strode over to the sofa and sat next to King. “Cute room.”

  “It keeps the teenagers somewhat happy,” Sharon said, brightening suddenly.

  April bit her tongue to keep from snapping. The woman was way too flirty with Damon. Sure, he and April were just playing a part—maybe—but Sharon thought they’d been dating for a while. She purposefully brought his attention back to her. “How was the armory? Lots of guns to play with?”

  “A surprising amount.” Damon studied her. “You still mad at me?”

  Heat infused her face. “We can talk about it later.”

  He sighed. “I’d prefer now.” Without warning, he ducked and lifted her right out of the beanbag chair and settled her on his lap.

  What the heck? Her eyes widened as she struggled to find her balance on his hard thighs. Was this a show for the pastor and Sharon? Damon didn’t do a thing without reason, but it’d be nice if he let her in on what that was. Should she struggle? Put up a fight so Damon could act like a jerk? Or maybe to see if the pastor would step in?

  “There,” Damon said. “I like this room much better now that you’re where you’re supposed to be.”

  Okay. She totally didn’t know how to play this. And the easy strength with which he’d lifted her had her heart beating a little too fast. On his lap, she felt small and feminine. Protected. “I’m still mad at you.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.

  “But not afraid,” King murmured, amusement in his voice.

  Was she supposed to be afraid of Damon? She’d forgotten that part. Okay. So she did suck as an actress. “The day is early,” she said. It was true. Damon had scared the crap out of her the night before with the controlled violence he’d used in the street with those other guys. And yet, a part of her had warmed to that. She was discovering a dark side to herself that she hadn’t known before. Maybe the pandemic had brought that out in her. Maybe it had always been there.

  Damon jostled her into position. “You’re awfully quiet. Thinking hard?”

  She recovered quickly. “Yes. This is a nice place, Damon. It’s bright and clean, and so far, everyone seems happy.” It was true, and saying it out loud would give King and Sharon openings to talk. Maybe she could get better at this undercover stuff. The kiss Damon had given her the other night had felt real, though. Geez. This was too much. She was way out of her depth. “Don’t you think?” She gave in to temptation and pressed her hand against his slate-hard chest.

  “I do.” He eyed King over her shoulder. “Though I would like a better explanation about some of the weaponry I just saw. Wh
ere did it come from? More importantly, how did it get here? No way would you be able to get some of that in here without Mercury taking notice.”

  King nodded, his gaze sober. “I know. I’m still investigating part of it since I wasn’t involved.”

  It was hard to imagine that somebody had just walked up to the outside fence and tossed weapons over without any of the Vanguard soldiers noticing. Sure, the patrols were on a set schedule, and April had seen it posted in the main headquarters. But still. “Who are your contacts out in the world?” she asked, trying to sound merely curious.

  King blinked. “Just some organic farmers up north. We’ve sent scouts out to trade.”

  “So you haven’t traded for weapons. At least since you’ve been in charge?” she asked, instinctively pressing him.

  “Nope.” He scratched his slightly whiskered chin. Without the clean-shaven look, he seemed a lot more approachable. “I don’t have any contacts with guns out there. Unfortunately.”

  April might not be a genius, but come on. Of course, she wasn’t a member of the congregation either. Pastor King didn’t owe her an explanation or even the truth. At the moment, he didn’t owe her anything. Yet he seemed somewhat willing to share. Maybe. Then Damon started playing with her hair, and she forgot how to think.

  Movement at the door stole her attention away from the hot guy holding her.

  “Pastor King?” A woman in her mid-twenties hovered just inside by a table, holding several board games. She had long, black hair, dark eyes, and pretty Asian features—as well as a very rounded and pregnant belly. “I have the test.”

  “Tomo.” Pleasure crossed King’s face, and he stood, walking toward the pregnant woman. “Thank you for bringing this.” He grasped her hands and looked down. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like a beach ball is bouncing in my stomach,” the woman said, her smile rueful. She rubbed her belly beneath a lightweight cream-colored sundress. “The kid likes to kick.”

  April straightened on Damon’s lap, craning her head to see. He set her next to him, sliding an arm around her waist and drawing her into his side. The natural motion felt way too right. She placed her hand on his thigh as if she’d sat with him like this a million times.