Diana Rowland - How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back

Andy continued to babble protests, but I wrestled him in and got the lid closed, then set both hands on the bin, dug my feet in and shoved it forward. Pierce stalked ahead, every inch the predator. I breathed deeply, but there were too many scents of blood and brains and rot for me to tell if there were any humans nearby who still posed a threat. Pierce seemed to be having the same problem to judge by the way he paused every ten feet or so to scent.

We came to a corner and stopped. Pierce listened and sniffed the air before quickly peeking around, then motioned me forward. Twenty feet down the corridor was a set of battered grey metal double doors that I recognized from my first escape from this place. “Déjà fucking vu,” I muttered.

“The warehouse is through there, then the parking garage,” Pierce murmured, but worry creased his forehead.

“Surely Nicole is out of guards by now?”

“There are still a couple of the Special Team I haven’t seen yet,” he said, and I realized he’d probably taken great care to memorize the features of every guard he encountered in the holding area. The dark flare of anger in his expression told me he’d paid especially close attention to any who were particularly cruel.

“Are you okay with me leaving that guy tied up back there?” I asked.

Pierce looked past me as if able to see around the corner to where the guard lay. “I wouldn’t have left him alive if he’d been one of the more memorable ones,” he said. “Though I will say he got off light with the broken nose and a few minutes of terror.”

Relief flickered through me. The whole cold-blooded killer thing weighed heavily enough on what little soul I had left. It would’ve sucked to have my one little mercy taken away. “Is that why you didn’t kill the Braddock lady?”

“Thea Braddock is the head of Saberton security but does no direct work with the Special Team’s duties,” he told me. “She has no final authority over them, and I fully believe she didn’t know what went on behind those closed doors. She’s a decent person who’s on the wrong side.”

Decent. That was a good word.

“Come on,” he said. “I don’t smell anyone out there, but we need to make a move.”

Together we eased forward, extending every sense we had. Yet as soon as we passed through the double doors and into the warehouse, we stopped and exchanged a worried look.

“It wasn’t locked,” I said. “They know we have to come this way. They want us to come this way.”

His expression darkened as he nodded, but he helped me get the dumpster rolling again, and we continued to the exit. At the door he tested the knob, jaw clenching as it turned easily. Unlocked. Shit. He opened the door a crack then scented and listened before pushing it open a foot wider. The van was still there, backed up to the loading dock. The garage was empty and silent, but a sharp edge seemed to vibrate the air.

“It’s too quiet,” I murmured.

“It’s that bitch’s last chance to keep us from escaping,” he growled. “This garage is a deathtrap. A sniper or two with tranq rifles could likely take us both down.” Frustration churned in his eyes as he formed and discarded plans.

I glanced back to make sure no one was sneaking up on us from behind, and something shifted in my pocket as I moved. The phone. Wouldn’t do much good to call for help. We didn’t exactly have a cavalry standing by—

Sucking in a breath, I shot a hand out to grab Pierce’s arm. “Close the door,” I said, quivering in excitement. “I have an idea.”

He complied, eyebrows lowering as I pulled the phone out. “Correction,” I said with a grin. “I have an awesome idea.” With gleeful determination I selected all the naughty pics I could find and texted the lot to Philip with an accompanying message:

I fidgeted until the phone dinged to indicate the pics all went through, then called Nicole a.k.a “CEOILF.” It connected after one ring, but no one spoke on the other end. Didn’t matter. I had puh-lenty to say.

“Nikki!” I cried. “Hang on, sweetums, I have some neat stuff to send you. I know you’re gonna want to take a look at this. Maybe you should have it blown up and framed to hang over the fireplace.” I found and sent my absolute favorite pic of the lot—a truly artistic shot that showed Nicole’s face and her naked nethers. “Turns out Pierce was a real photobug! And, wow, your hooha looks terrific, even after twins! Did you have a C-section? And, I have to know, do you do that anal bleaching stuff?”

Her sharp gasp told me the instant the photo arrived on her screen.

“This one’s definitely my favorite,” I prattled on, “but the one where you’re bent over your desk with the Manhattan skyline in the background is a close second. That’s pure art! ” I paused for a couple of seconds to let it all sink in. “Now here’s the deal, Nikki, sweetie. Because I’m nice, I haven’t sent these to one of those spring-break-titties websites yet. Ooh! I wonder if there’s a ‘CEOs Gone Wild’ website?”

She made an inarticulate noise, but I pressed right on. “However, because I’m not stupid, I already sent the whole darn package to a buddy of mine—all the pics Pierce took, the pics you sent him, along with the cute sexting you two did back and forth. And I told my buddy that if he didn’t hear from me in fifteen minutes with my super special ‘I’m Okay’ code phrase, he was to spread these lovely gems far and wide on every website and news feed that he could find.”

“You . . . you . . .”

“I know you have some nasty shit planned for us in the garage, you fucking bitch.” My voice was hard and sharp now, all trace of humor gone. “Unless you want to be the laughingstock of the entire goddamn world, I suggest you tell your people to stand the fuck down. Oh, and if anything’s been done to the van, it better get undone. Y’got me?”

Her breath came in short panicked gasps. Seemed I’d found her weak spot. “No one will stop you,” she choked out. “Get out. Get out . Leave my son.”

Pierce tilted his head, smile widening as the sound of scuffling and muted shouts came from beyond the metal door.

“Not until we’re completely clear,” I told her. “Then we’ll let him go.”

“Get out!” Fury and terror resonated in her voice. “Get out. Get out! GET OUT! ”

I disconnected while she was in mid shriek. So much for her calm calculating crap. Pierce leaned against the doors, body shaking with silent laughter, despite our predicament.

“I think she wants us to get out,” I said with a grin.

Still chuckling, he eased the door open again, even as a door slammed on the other side of the garage. The air no longer held that sharp edge. “Wait here,” he ordered. Gun in hand, he loped to the cargo van, made a quick circuit around it that I figured was to check for explosives, then jumped up to the loading dock and pulled the van’s rear doors open.

As soon as he gestured to me I shoved the bin his way, and in no time at all we had it loaded up and the doors closed. I stayed in the back while Pierce took the driver’s seat and got the van going.

“We’re out and clear,” he announced less than half a minute later.

“Hot fucking damn,” I breathed. Shifting to my knees, I swung the lid of the bin open. “How’s everyone doing?”

Kyle lifted his head, expression grim, and his hand pressed to Andrew’s belly. “Some worse than . . . others.”

“Hurts,” Andrew gasped, breathing in short sips. “Oh, god.”

“Shit. Help me get him out,” I said before remembering that none of the zombies were at full strength by a long shot. Still, Kyle and Marcus managed to give enough push to help me get Andrew out and lay him down on the van floor without too much jarring. My eyes met Marcus’s, totally relieved to see him moving and aware, but I barely had time for a smile before a choked cry of pain from Andrew pulled my attention.