How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back (33 page)

A pained expression flashed across his face.
Ha! One point for Angel!
Pleased, I leaned back on my elbows. “Look, we both want the same thing here. So how 'bout you make it easy on everyone and work with us.”

Pierce folded his arms across his broad chest. “I can get us in, Andrew, but it would be smoother with your cooperation.”

“And if I cooperate?” Andrew asked, eyes narrowed. “What then?”

“You see this through, and we let you go back to your mommy.” Pierce's gaze intensified to predator focus. “You don't, and we find out if there's anything special about a Saber brain.”

Fear flickered for an instant, but then Andrew's jaw set in defiant pride. “Agreed,” he said. “It's best done soon, before my mother decides to move them to Dallas.”

Pierce gave a sharp nod. “A plan to move the prisoners is good. Except it will be
your
idea. We'll discuss the final preparations as soon as Ms. Crawford finishes with you.” With that he gave me a barely perceptible wink, turned, and strode out.

Finishes with him?
Oh, right. Naomi. “By the way,” I said, then snapped my fingers to pull his attention away from the doorway and back to me. “Andrew, I'd bet my left tit you didn't hear all of the shit that came through that
thing
in my arm.”

His mouth pulled down in a scowl. “What makes you think that?”

I let out a soft sigh. “Because if you'd heard everything, you wouldn't have accused us of emotional blackmail.”

“Julia,” he said softly, then shook his head. “I don't understand what the bug has to do with my sister.” No anger or cockiness anymore. We'd put him through the wringer, and now he simply looked drained.

“Because anyone who listened to the whole broadcast would know that we killed the name ‘Julia Saber,' but not the woman.” I paused. “And, yeah, I can prove it.”

“She's
alive
?” He tried to stand, then sat again heavily. “Julia's really alive? Where is she? Is she all right?”

“She's fine,” I said, even as I heard a soft
thuck swish
which I suspected was Naomi crutching her way up the stairs. “Pietro made sure she was safe from your mother,” I continued. “Plastic surgery, new identity, the works. But he couldn't take into account the damn bug.”

New, scary anger lit Andrew's eyes. “My mother
knows
?”

“Unless someone else screened the bug and called the shots.”

“Her assistant listened and provided transcripts of relevant information to her, which were then forwarded to me. Or so I thought.” He forced the words through clenched teeth. “My mother called the shots and obviously passed me only crumbs. It's all about fucking control with her. I'll kill her. I swear to god, I'll
kill
her.”

“Hold that thought a minute, Hero,” Naomi said from the doorway.

Andrew's focus snapped to her. Emotions tumbled over his face as his worldview did a reset. “Julia?” He lurched up and yanked against the chains on his wrist and ankle. “God damn it. Get this shit off me!”

“Brian, could you? Please?” Naomi said quietly without taking her eyes from her brother.

Face expressionless, Brian moved in and unlocked the chains, then leaned in close to Andrew. “One wrong bat of an eyelash, and I will
hurt
you.”

He barely had time to step back before Naomi swooped in and threw her arms around Andrew's neck. I caught the discarded crutches before they crashed to the floor, then I stepped back.
Maybe I should leave the room?
I wondered then saw that Brian remained at his spot by the foot of the bed. He looked out the window beyond the two, but I had no doubt he was aware of every sound and scent and movement. I doubted Andrew would do something stupid like try to take Naomi hostage, but it made sense to keep an eye on him.

Still, I felt like a voyeur as Naomi and Andrew blubbered over each other, even though I tried to model Brian's nothing-going-on-here face. After a couple of minutes the two finally pulled apart and sat side by side on the edge of Andrew's bed.

Andrew scrubbed a hand over his face. “Even
knowing
how Mother is, it's hard to believe she did this to me.”

“To
you
?”
Naomi scowled. “Look at what I had to do to myself to keep her from coming after me!”

“That's not what I meant—”

Naomi cut him off with a noise of exasperation. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't been a big bully and threatened to ‘tell mommy on me.'”

He stiffened. “You weren't listening. I was only trying to shock some sense into you.”

“Yeah?” She shifted a few inches away in order to glare at him. “Well you got a broken nose for your loving support.”

“Plus another mess of yours to clean up,” Andrew retorted. “This time a fucking
murder
. I tried to keep your name clear of it, but she found out.” He edged back from her. “I don't know what you're so pissed about. You got exactly what you've always wanted.”

Naomi's eyes narrowed. “What the hell is
that
supposed to mean?”

I hid a grimace.
So much for the happy reunion.

Andrew jerked his gaze away from her and out the window, but not before I saw the flash of pain in his eyes. “It means you coped with her bullshit a long time ago by staying as far away from her—from us—as you could. This time, you almost succeeded in making it permanent.” One hand clenched briefly on the blanket. “You left me thinking I'd driven you off to your death. You could have told me you were alive.”

“Right,” she snorted, though I heard the guilt behind it. “And risk one of your self righteous gung-ho-Saberton reactions?”

Brian shifted, muscles in his arms tense, and I had a feeling he was poised to put a stop to the bickering. I laid a hand on his arm and gave him a slight headshake. Sometimes the best thing for old, dirty laundry was a little airing. He frowned at me then gave a grudging nod.

“
Someone
has to watch out for grandfather's company,” Andrew was saying. “But you could have had a little faith in me.” He turned back to her and shrugged, a hurt, bitter look on his face. “I don't know why I expected anything different. You abandoned me before. You abandoned me again.”

Naomi's jaw dropped. “I never abandoned you! I was off doing my
job
.”

“Which was chock full of the thrill you adored,” he replied with a sneer. “It was a bonus that it happened to help Saberton.” He waved a hand in our direction. “And now you're off working with the people who are trying to undermine us.”

She gave him an
Are you insane?
look. “Zombies are being tortured and used. People have been
kidnapped
. My boyfriend has been captured.” She returned his sneer in force. “This isn't about undermining anyone or anything. It's about righting a despicable wrong.”

“Where do you draw the line at despicable?” he demanded. “Do you think it was all roses and lollipops for the people you lied to, stole from, tricked, or planted things on during your little spy games? And apparently murder didn't cross the line.” She jerked as the last one hit home, and he lifted his chin. “As for zombies, Saberton wouldn't have even known about them if you hadn't stolen shit from Ivanov.”

She hauled herself up and snagged the crutches. “This is all
my
fault?” Her voice remained steady, but I spied the quiver in her lip. She'd already been carrying the guilt of how Saberton discovered the zombies. “You're blaming
me
for your attitude of ‘They're not like me so I can screw them over all I want'?” Tears welled in her eyes. “You never used to be so hateful,” she said. “What the hell happened to you, Andrew?”

Regret shadowed his face before he steeled his gaze. “While you were off thrill-seeking, I was stuck taking care of business.” He didn't have to add
stuck with Mother.
That came through loud and clear.

“Your business
sucks
.” She crutched to the door but when she reached the hallway she stopped and spoke without looking back. “No matter what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night, it's not okay to kidnap people for profit. And,
yes,
zombies are people. So get over yourself, Andrew.” With that she hurried down the hall.

“The business was all I had!” he shouted after her, voice shaking with long pent-up emotion. “You found a way out and never looked back. Maybe I needed—” He broke off, turned away. “Fuck,” he breathed.

Needed
 . . . an escape? A way out? A new life? It was obvious he loved his sister and wanted out of his mother's shadow. Andrew's armor had a chink in it, though I had no idea how big of one.

I cleared my throat. “This is the perfect opportunity to walk away from Saberton, y'know.” His shoulders sagged.
Maybe
, I thought.
Just maybe.

He drew himself up and faced me, his expression all cool business again. “Walk away from Saberton,” he echoed, voice stiff. “You believe this is a perfect opportunity for me to
walk away
from a career I love and my grandfather's legacy?”

Crap. Me and my big mouth. I fumbled for anything to say that could possibly salvage the moment, but in the next instant his composure crumbled, as if he simply didn't have the energy to maintain it.

“Saberton is my life,” Andrew said, voice rough. “It's who I am. I can't abandon it. I
can't
—not even to get away from our mother.” A soft sigh escaped him. “Julia's talents made it easy for her to stay away.” He spoke with soft precision, as if trying to win an old argument with himself. “My talents bound me in close. It's simply how it is.”

A sudden wave of unexpected sympathy left me at a loss for words. Julia/Naomi had left her family behind but could still keep doing the covert ops spy adventure shit she loved. She changed employers, but the job itself remained pretty much the same. It had never even occurred to me that Andrew might love what he did just as much—probably because the whole financial-business-power-tie-boardroom thing seemed tedious and dry and dull to me. Yet for Andrew to “walk away” was a much bigger sacrifice, I realized with chagrin. I didn't know a lot about the business world, but somehow I doubted he'd be able to step right into another high-level position anywhere else. Plus, anywhere else wouldn't be
Saberton.

A quick glance at Brian told me he'd realized the same thing, though there wasn't much sympathy in his eyes. Sighing, I looked back to Andrew, but he'd managed to regain his bearing in those few seconds and spoke before I could.

“We have an agreement,” he stated. “I'll help get Griffin and Marcus Ivanov out in exchange for my release. That's it. And we have that
only
because I know it's in Saberton's best interests to
not
give Jane Pennington a reason to fuck us over, even though my mother doesn't see it my way.”

Best interests? My sympathy vanished like a popped soap bubble. “Whatever,” I snapped. “You look like shit and need to get your ass cleaned up before we walk you into Saberton Tower.”

Brian gestured toward the door. “Come on, Saber,” he said. “Once we take care of that we'll meet with Gentry to make the final plan.”

With that, I left the guys to their business and headed downstairs. Naomi sat on the sofa in the living room with her foot propped on the coffee table.

“Just like old times,” she said with a weak smile.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Sure. Old shit. New twist.” But she let out a long sigh. “We used to be so close. I played games with my grandfather that turned into real work. Andrew was the so-called responsible one, focused on boring stuff.”

“Boring to you,” I put in. “I get the feeling he really likes it.”

A grimace flashed over her face. “Yeah, he does. Now,” she added. “We were groomed for our talents—and our roles—when we were kids. I was lucky and loved mine. He learned to love his.” She bit her lip. “I never thought I'd
abandoned
him, but I guess in a way I did.”

“You can't beat yourself up over it,” I said. “He's a grown man who makes his own choices.”

“Andrew is Andrew. I'm used to it.” A determined expression settled across her face, though I now suspected that Tough Determination was as much of a fake front as Andrew's Cool and Unruffled Businessman. “Once we get Marcus and Kyle back I'll have room to rant about my brother's priorities,” she continued.

“Right.” I gave her a quick hug. “Gotta go check in with Pierce on the plan.” I started to turn away then paused. “You have any tweezers?”

She gave me a baffled look, but dug a pair out of her bag and handed them over.

“Thanks. I'll bring them back before we leave.” I didn't know the plan yet, but I knew that part of it depended on Pierce passing himself off as the real Pierce Gentry.

I found Pierce in the garage. The SUV was gone, and in its place was a white cargo van. He closed the van's back doors and looked over at me.

“Angel? Is something wrong?”

Grinning, I waggled the tweezers at him. “Let's go, dude. We got some eyebrows to tame.”

This is what my life has become. Stuffed into the bottom of a garbage bin.

It was a clean one, at least, and pretty darn roomy, for a garbage bin. Pierce and Brian had muttered stuff about specs and load capacity and two cubic yards, blah blah. About three feet deep with a footprint a smidge smaller than a hospital bed, it was basically a big ass blue industrial plastic mini-dumpster on wheels.

I'd been curled up inside of it for the last few minutes, or ever since we crossed the river heading into midtown Manhattan toward Saberton's headquarters. The not-bad part was Brian curled up inside it as well. Spooning me, in fact, which I couldn't help enjoying on a primitive physical level even though I considered Brian to be in the special category reserved for Best Friends and Big Brothers.

In turn, I spooned a blanket-covered selection of tools we figured might come in handy, and, for a slightly lumpy pillow, I had an insulated lunch box containing a few baggies of diced brains, since we were down to only three packets remaining from the lab.
Maybe it's a good thing Philip had to stay behind with Dr. Nikas,
I mused. Philip was a pretty big guy, and I had a hard time imagining him and Brian cuddled up in the dumpster.

“Entering the garage now, folks,” Pierce said, interrupting my mental wanderings, which was probably a damn good thing considering the direction they were headed. I felt the van turn, and then some bumps, followed by a sense of going down a slight incline. “We have our plan, but everyone needs to keep their senses sharp,” he continued. “Anything could change at any time.”

The van backed up, stopped, and the engine died. Brian shifted positions behind me slightly, and I bit down on an insane need to giggle.

“What's wrong?” Brian whispered.

“You're poking me in the butt!”

He made a strangled sound, and I couldn't tell if it was laughter or exasperation. Possibly both. “It's my gun. Sorry.”

I clamped both hands over my mouth and shook with laughter.

“Not
that
kind of gun, you dork!”

The back doors of the van opened, and I quickly got myself under control.

“I'll take care of this myself, sir.” That was Pierce's voice. We were inside Saberton walls, which meant we were probably under surveillance already.

“Thank you, Gentry,” Andrew replied. He sounded tired and stressed but holding it together.

“Can't let anything happen to the goods,” Pierce said, surprising me with a sharp yank on the bin. For an instant I thought we were going to tumble out of the back of the van and onto the ground, but instead I felt only a rough bump.

The
loading dock
, I realized as I did my best to relax again.

“Close your eyes and go limp,” Brian said very softly in my ear. “Someone could open the bin to check at any time.”

Right. Play tranqed.
I obediently closed my eyes and went as limp as possible. It helped that Brian had moved the gun.

I heard a jingle of keys followed by a beep and a door opening. Andrew using his fob to activate the latch, I decided.

The cart moved through the door. “Morning, Ferguson,” Andrew said after a moment, as if he'd simply been out for a stroll—plausible since we figured that only Nicole and her Special Security Team would know Andrew was missing. After all, the bastards didn't want cops snooping around.

“Morning, Mr. Saber.”

Another set of doors, a long roll, then the beep and ding of an elevator. Bump-bump going in, then silence while the car descended. According to Andrew, they'd converted old maintenance offices into a temporary holding area. Nothing fancy, but serviceable—a secure door to a corridor with a half dozen rooms, and a closed camera system to monitor a few makeshift cells.

“I'll take care of the retina scan, Gentry,” Andrew said as the elevator doors opened.

“Yes, sir.”

I kept my eyes closed, barely daring to breathe as the cart moved. Things beeped, and a heavy door swung open with a slow metallic creak. I heard a scrape of metal on plastic, then a
pop
that was Pierce jamming the latch to make sure we couldn't be locked in, and I only knew that because he'd told me he was going to do so.

A couple of seconds later we passed through. The air smelled different in here, antiseptic and rotten, along with something else that made my hair stand on end.

“Mr. Saber! Gentry!” A scrape of boot on linoleum was most likely a guard near the door. “I didn't know you'd returned.”

“Now you know,” Pierce replied, tone hard and clipped. “Has the older Ivanov specimen been recaptured?”

“Not yet,” the guard replied. “No fucking leads either.”

“Are Marcus Ivanov and,” disgust filled Pierce's voice, “
Griffin
secure?”

“Locked down tight.” The guard gave a sharp and nasty laugh. “Griffin's been getting a lesson in loyalty. Ms. Saber's orders. And, with the Dallas lab tech here, it's been pretty entertaining.”

Brian tensed behind me while I trembled. Holy shit, did I ever want to leap out of the bin and tear off the ugly smile I heard in this guard's voice.

“I have two more,” Pierce said with a note of triumph. I forced myself limp again as he pulled the hinged bin lid up and let it fall open with a loud plastic clatter. “Crawford and Archer. But we have a change of plans. We're moving them all out of here. With Pietro Ivanov on the loose, and no clue how he got out, we can't risk him returning to free Griffin and his nephew. Mr. Saber, you can arrange the plane to Dallas?”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pierce said and pushed the cart farther along. “I'll check the condition of the specimens and prepare them to move.”

“After yesterday's bullshit in the conference room, this one got his arms broken and no brains,” a different guard said as the cart came to a stop. I carefully opened my eyes a thin crack and peered through my lashes, relieved that it was enough to allow me to see nearby people over the lip of the dumpster. A brawny, bald guard stood in front of Pierce. “He's chained up now, and a rotting mess,” he added without a trace of compassion in his voice as he nodded toward the door beside him. “Griffin's another story.” His smile widened, cruel and vicious. “The tech tested some new shit on him that supposedly keeps them aware
and
slows the rot when they get injured and hungry. It worked like a fucking charm.”

Brian's hand curled into a fist against my back. I bit the inside of my cheek, quivering with rage.

A small frown crossed Andrew's face. “I hope my mother is taking care not to do irreparable damage. They're useless as test subjects if they become unstable, like Philip Reinhardt.”

I held back a growl with effort.
Fuck you too, Andy.

“Bring out whatever brains we have left,” Pierce ordered. “We're going to need to get them into shape to move.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the guard stepped out of my thin field of vision, Pierce dropped a quick glance down and gave us a very slight
Not Yet
head shake. I fought to look limp and tranqed, and focused on running through the plan in my head. At Brian's signal I was to leap out with him right behind me, then he'd get through the door, mod up, and kick some serious ass. The effect of the mods didn't last very long, so activating it before the time was right would only waste it.

The bald guard returned with a Ziploc freezer bag, presumably containing brains. He handed it to Pierce then turned at the sound of the entrance door swinging open.

“Yes, ma'am.” It was the head of security, Thea Braddock, and it sounded as if she was talking on the phone. “I'd just gone off duty when I heard. I came back to check it out.” A pause. “Crawford and Archer, or so I've just been told, ma'am,” she continued. “I'll call you back as soon as I know more.”

Shit shit shit shit. She was on the phone with Nicole Fucking Saber.

Approaching footsteps. “Good to have you back safe and sound, Mr. Saber,” Braddock said, sounding genuinely pleased that he'd returned. “Gentry? You're the one who got him back?”

Pierce offered a tight-lipped smile. Having Braddock show up complicated things that much more. “Yes, ma'am. And took down these two as well,” he said, flicking fingers toward us. “Lost Reinhardt and Comtesse though.”

Braddock peered into the bin and gave a low whistle of appreciation. She wore an emerald green hoody, a bag strap over one shoulder, and a hospital-blue sling supporting the arm Philip had injured. “Solid work, Gentry,” she said. “I need to call Ms. Saber back and let her know it's confirmed. She's on her way in now.”

“Leave off calling her for the moment, please, Thea,” Andrew put in quickly. “With Pietro Ivanov in the wind, we can't risk staying in New York. This section wasn't meant to be anything more than a temporary holding place for specimens.” He made a noise of aggravation. “I'm shocked the other two haven't escaped as well, considering how quickly this floor was refitted for this purpose. We're moving the lot to the airport for transfer to Dallas. No one escapes from there.”

Braddock looked briefly pained. “Yes, sir. I understand your concerns regarding the security of this section, but I don't know if Ms. Saber will support that decision.”

“She won't,” Andrew said tightly. “But it's the right move in order to maintain security. I'll make sure she understands.”

Pierce turned away, murmured to Baldy to open the door beside us.

“Yes, sir,” Braddock said. “However, I still need to call her with an update.”

She wrinkled her nose as a choking wave of rot smell poured out of the open door. A gurgling yowl and the rattling of chains followed it.

Marcus!
I stiffened, and only Brian's hand tight on the back of my jacket kept me from leaping up to see him. Braddock's gaze went beyond Andrew and into the room. She took a half step back, face suddenly ashen, and for a second I thought she was going to hurl. Had she never seen Saberton's loving care of zombies?

“Of course I understand she needs to be told,” Andrew was saying. “I'm making the call to Dallas to coordinate transport, but it's easier on everyone for me to wait and tell my mother face to face. You know that.”

Yes, please, get Nicole in my grasp again
, I seethed.

But Braddock wasn't listening to Andrew anymore. She stared into the room, her entire focus locked on its rotting occupant.

“Braddock!” Andrew snapped to get her attention. “Why are you down here anyway? You shouldn't be in this far.” It was obvious he wasn't at all happy that Thea Braddock was witness to what happened behind these closed doors.

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir,” she replied, voice taut. “I had to come down when I heard the report that you were back.”

“You know my mother,” he said. “You
do
understand that it's best I inform her of this move in person, yes?”

She didn't immediately answer. Her gaze tracked from the doorway, down to Brian and me, then back to Andrew. “Yes, sir. I do,” she finally said. The unspoken “but” hung between them. She had questions. Her instincts told her something was seriously off. Maybe she was wondering why Pierce or Andrew hadn't called ahead to let them know they were coming in with prisoners. Or maybe Pierce's mannerisms didn't match the Pierce Gentry she knew. Whatever it was, the seed of suspicion was getting a whole lot of fertilizer.

“I respect your opinion, sir,” Braddock said as she took a step back and out of my view. “But it's my duty to notify Ms. Saber.” I heard the soft beep of a phone.

I didn't need Brian's quick double-hand squeeze to let me know it was time to move. Baring my teeth in a snarl, I surged up and vaulted out, though far less gracefully than I'd hoped, which turned my dash to Marcus's door into more of a stagger. Brian was right on my heels, but none of us had considered the instability of the bin. Brian's weight had stabilized it for my exit, but he didn't have that advantage. The instant he came over the side the whole thing tipped to throw him off balance, then slammed back to the floor as his weight shifted off it.

Brian recovered in a zombie-speed flash, but Braddock had solid instincts and damn good reflexes. She had her gun half out of her purse even as the dumpster slammed back down. No doubt realizing Brian was the bigger threat—and apparently well aware it was pointless to tell a zombie, “Stop or I'll shoot!”—she brought bag and all to bear on him and fired twice.

I yelped and ducked as the sound of the gunshots slammed through the corridor. Brian staggered back against the wall as both rounds hit him center chest. Fortunately for him, that was the best place to get hit, considering his body armor, though I had to give an instant of mad respect for Braddock's shooting skill, especially with the purse in the way.

“Angel! Take care of Marcus!” Pierce tossed me the bag of brains, and the instant it left his hands he pulled a knife, spun, and sliced Baldy's throat open in a spray of blood.

As I caught the bag, the guard gurgled, clutched at his throat, and crumpled. Braddock got off another shot that seared a line across Pierce's shoulder, but he retaliated with zombie speed and stepped into a vicious side kick directly on her injured arm. She let out a choked cry as she crashed back into a partially open door then tumbled out of sight into an unlit room.

Down the corridor past Brian, the first guard grabbed his tranq gun and pointed it our way. I heard a dart skitter off the wall as I turned toward Marcus's open cell door. The guard fired again, and I distantly heard the
thuk
sound of a dart hitting flesh and Brian's grunt of pain. On my other side, as if from far away, I heard Andrew curse then saw him bolt toward the opposite end of the corridor and the exit door. But the instant I took in the sight of Marcus everything else seemed to retreat.