Chapter 33

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiotic thing to say. Still, he needed to say something. Too late to take it back.

Standing his ground proved difficult as April stood before him, a familiar fire scorching him. Dean tried to take a step back but came up against a car in his way. April snagged his shirt, tugging him in her wake. Dean did nothing to fight back, in part because he didn’t relish an argument in front of the men, and also because her expression frightened him. Though seemingly impossible, once in his office, April whirled him around by a pull of his shirt, almost smacking him into the wall. With a kick, she closed the door so hard it slammed, rattling. So much for keeping the conflict confined—the echoing boomrebounded throughout the garage. April held him in place with a handful of fabric and glowered into his face.