How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back

Chapter 16

Getting back to the hotel “nice and safe” took a couple of hours by the time we rode the subway, changed trains, took a bus, two different taxis, and then the subway again before hiking five blocks. The whole time I couldn’t get the image of Kyle’s mugshot out of my head, but when we finally reached the hotel I figured if anyone tailing us still had us in their sights they fucking deserved to catch us, and I’d invite them in for some damn drinks.

Philip and Kyle were already there when we made it to the room, but only by about fifteen minutes, according to them. I grunted a tired greeting, then gave Philip a head nudge to follow me into the bedroom.

I closed the door as soon as he entered, poised and ready to tell him about the picture of Kyle, but the words caught in my throat when he turned, and I got a look at his face. He’d had tons of practice hiding pain, but I knew the signs. Deep furrows between his brows, his mouth drawn down a bit on the right side, and the slight squint to his eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” I asked instead.

He stripped off his shirt. “This.” He gingerly lifted his arm to show me his side, and corpse stench wafted over me. Mottled skin surrounded a large patch of oozing rot and exposed ribs. “The thigh is just as bad,” he said, expression grim, “and my arm is close to unusable.”

“Shit,” I breathed as I put my hand over the matching place on my side. No, not matching. It was in the same location, but my imprint-mirrored rot was little more than a spongy patch. Gross, but not gross. I peered at his side in dismay. “It’s getting worse.”

“It is,” he confirmed. “And today the pain started. Not the rot itself, but the areas around it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Plus a killer headache came on about an hour ago and won’t go away. A bad one. Goddamn MegaPlague.”

Shit. It had to be bad for him to call it bad. “Eat some brains,” I ordered. “Drink some coffee. And lots of water.”

“I’ve been drowning in water,” he said. “And Kyle’s leaving now to pick up some pizza he ordered. We’ll put brains on that.” He blew a breath out. “It’s like little needles inside my head. I’ve never had anything like it before.”

“Then lie down,” I said, firmly pointing to the bed. “It can’t hurt.” At least I hoped not. This whole Plague thing was so weird, I honestly had no clue what would help or hurt, especially now that it was MegaPlague.

He sat on the edge of the bed, then carefully reclined and draped his arm across his eyes. “Damn, Angel. This is bad. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up,” I told him gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry you’re going through all this crap.” No way would I ask him about Kyle now. Another hour or two wouldn’t make a difference. “Rest. You need it.”

“You eat my pizza, and I’ll get revenge.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I solemnly assured him. “Mostly because you always have those nasty bell pepper things on yours.”

“Kyle muttered something about getting all cheese to keep it simple.”

“Kyle is a very wise man.”

He snorted. “Is that what you call it?” His eyes closed, but the skin around them remained tight with discomfort.

“I’m sure there are other words.”

Philip mumbled something in response. I stretched out on the bed with a couple of feet between us, closed my eyes and tried to shut out the gnawing worry about Kyle and Jane and Philip and everything else.

At some point I must have succeeded, because the sound of the front door woke me from a doze. A few seconds later I heard Kyle say, “Food.”

Rubbing my eyes, I got up and went out to the main room to see Kyle setting two large pizza boxes on the table. Naomi wasn’t there, but the bathroom door was closed, and I heard the shower running.

“Hey. Cool. Thanks,” I said.

He gave me a small smile. “Anytime. No bell peppers, right?”

“Yeah, nasty stuff,” I said, surprised and pleased that he remembered my dislike of them. Or . . . maybe it was all part of the insider game. Know your players.

Really, Angel? I did a mental eye roll at my overactive paranoia. Why on earth would the fact that bell peppers make me gag be important info?

He flipped open one of the boxes to reveal pineapple and onion on one side and pepperoni and bell peppers on the other. “Half cheese and half ham and mushrooms on the other,” he told me. “Brain packets in the fridge.”

“You’re awesome,” I said fervently and shoved aside the nagging doubt about him. At least for the moment. I grabbed a plate and got a peppered slice, squeezed brains onto it and brought it into the bedroom. “Hey, ZeeBee,” I said, nudging the bed a bit. “Food’s here. You need to eat.”

He groaned softly, and I realized he hadn’t been asleep. “I’ll get it in a sec.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Dude, if you don’t eat a couple of bites right now, I’ll chew it up and spit it into your mouth which would be beyond gross for both of us since there are bell peppers on that slice.”

His eyes opened, and he slowly pushed himself up to sit. “The only reason I’m doing this is because I believe you’d try it.” He pulled the plate close and picked up the slice.

“You know me too well.”

“Craaaaaazy,” he said, then wisely took a bite.

“It’s been working for me so far.” I watched him to make sure he ate a few more bites, then gave an approving nod. “All right, eat what you can and then nap.”

“You sure are bossy for a runt,” he grumbled, but he kept eating.

“You sure are perceptive for a grunt,” I replied sweetly.

“If I wasn’t so damn nice I’d make you eat those words,” he said, then popped the last bite of the slice in his mouth, wiped his fingers and carefully reclined again. “You’re lucky.”

“Sure am,” I said, smiling to hide my worry. The lines of pain in his face hadn’t faded one bit. I gently patted his cheek, then turned out the light, left the room, and closed the door quietly behind me.

Kyle stood by the window, looking out at the city lights. Naomi, wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, sat at the table, eating a slice of pineapple-onion, without brains, I assumed. I got a slice and squeezed brains onto it, then chowed down in silence. I really wanted to ask about the whole Saberton thing, but even more, I really wanted to talk to Philip about it first. Naomi was already on edge with the Andrew stuff, and she was prickly enough to jump down my throat if I happened to suggest or even imply that her boyfriend might be the insider.

Kyle turned and reached for his jacket. “I’m going to head down to Saberton Tower and see what the security looks like.”

Shit. Too late to get Philip’s take on this, but I didn’t like the thought of Kyle and Saberton going out on a date tonight without a chaperone. I stuffed the last bite of pizza into my mouth. “I’ll go with you!”

Naomi gave me a What the hell? look, but Kyle simply shrugged and shook his head.

“No need,” he said as he tugged his jacket on. “It’ll be more conspicuous with two.”

Damn it, this little recon expedition sure would be a convenient way for an insider to pass information along to Saberton. I struggled to think of a plausible excuse for why I should go with him, but totally failed to come up with a single damn thing.

I forced a laugh. “I’m that noticeable?”

“Not you,” he said as he checked placement of hidden weapons. “Two people.”

Double damn. I really didn’t want to wake Philip unless it was an emergency, but I didn’t seem to have a choice. I carefully kept my scowl hidden and reached for another slice.

Kyle started for the door, then glanced back. “You could hang on the next street over, but I wouldn’t want to leave you on your own.”

I dropped the slice back into the box. “I can handle myself well enough for hanging out,” I replied quickly.

He dipped his head in a slight nod. “Get your coat.”

“Angel, what are you doing?” Naomi regarded me, brows drawn together. “There’s no point in you tagging along.”

“I want to go,” I said with a shrug. “What difference does it make?”

Her mouth thinned. “It forces Kyle to keep you in mind in any tactical plan, and he doesn’t need you there.”

An unspoken You’d be dead weight hung in the air like a flashing neon sign. My throat tightened, and for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with suspicion of Kyle. This wasn’t her defending him. She simply had zero faith in me. And why should she? So far I was barely managing to keep up with the others.

“Yeah, sure,” I croaked out. “I’d better go check on Philip.” I spun and hurried out of the room, then detoured to the bathroom and closed the door. No reason to wake Philip until I got control of my dumb angst and hurt feelings.

I heard Kyle say something to Naomi, but I couldn’t make out the words, and I didn’t really try. I turned the water on and splashed some on my face, then jerked at a light rap on the door.

“Angel, get your jacket.” It was Kyle.

Damn it. Now I felt like an idiot, since this was obviously a pity invite. Fuck it. I’d take it. Maybe if I hung around he wouldn’t be able to do any Saberton business—whatever the hell that might be. He wouldn’t want to blow his cover, right? Right.

I shut the water off, then grabbed a towel and wiped my face before exiting the bathroom. I didn’t want to look at Naomi, but I couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance on my way to the closet. She had a piece of pizza in her hand but she met my eyes, and I didn’t think I imagined the I really shouldn’t have said all that but I’m too wrapped up in my own stuff to fix it, and you’ll forgive me, won’t you? in them. I gave her a tiny nod then got my jacket and followed Kyle out.

Kyle didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t about to start a conversation. He remained placidly silent all the way down in the elevator and through the lobby. He finally spoke once we stepped outside. “You mind walking a few blocks before we get a cab?” he asked. “Air feels good.”

“Don’t mind one bit,” I said. “I like seeing all the stuff here.”

He glanced right and left before crossing the street, and I fell in beside him, grateful that he kept his stride short enough for me to walk at a comfortable pace. We skirted a tiny plot of grass and trees, then continued down a cross street while I drank in the whole New-York-at-night vibe. A crowd of well-dressed drunk men who couldn’t be much older than me clustered in front of a bar as they conversed in loud, cheerful voices. They went silent and parted as we approached, instinct telling them to make a clear path for us, for Kyle, and as soon as we were past the boisterous conversation resumed, louder than before. I glanced at Kyle, but his expression remained as unruffled as ever. He was either oblivious or so completely used to that sort of thing it didn’t even register anymore.

Scaffolding in front of a building created a tunnel, and the sound of honking taxis and music bounced crazily as we passed through it. On the other side of the building a food truck was parked in a narrow lot, with a line of what had to be about fifty people patiently waiting to be served. Smelled fantastic, whatever they were selling, but my stomach was too tight with nerves to offer even a token rumble. I snuck a quick glance at Kyle. It wasn’t that he looked dangerous, but he certainly felt it. He’d killed people. Lots of them, I had no doubt. Hell, anyone who had a signature move such as “a garrote looped twice” surely had a long list of victims.

Not for the thrill, though. I didn’t see that in him at all. Murder was part of the job, a task to be performed in order to accomplish a goal.

Whose goal was he working toward now?

“Something bothering you?” he asked, tone as mild as ever. But it was clear he’d seen or felt all of my little glances.

I groaned under my breath. “Um, no. Everything’s cool.” Holy shit, was this ever a fucking stupid plan. Hell, it couldn’t even be called a plan, since an actual plan required a bit of thought.

He veered down a narrow sidestreet and proceeded until we were in the near dark, a few feet beyond the reach of the streetlights, then stopped and looked at me expectantly.

Good job, Angel. Go for a walk in a strange city with the super highly trained operative who you think might be the insider. For extra points, make sure you do it without any of the others around, and top it off by following him into a deserted area with crappy lighting. “Maybe I should head back to the hotel,” I suggested, darting my eyes toward the busy street. “Naomi was right. You don’t need me here.”

“You have an issue with me,” he said, voice soft yet clear.

It wasn’t a question. My mind whirled with ways to deny it, to say anything to return to the relative comfort of a minute ago. Nothing felt right. Nothing but the truth, since I knew he’d see right through any lie. “I saw a photo of you at Andrew’s apartment,” I said, trying to ignore the sick flip-flop of my stomach. “A Saberton personnel photo.”

He simply nodded, a tiny motion, eyes on me and face utterly expressionless. The shadows where we stood seemed to grow darker, and the air thicker.

“How—” I gulped and tried again. “How do I know you’re not the insider?”

He remained still and silent for several long seconds. Some sort of insect skittered across the sidewalk behind him. A car horn honked in the distance, followed by a yelled curse. The breeze shifted to replace the scent of cooking meat with the odors of old piss and rotting garbage.

“You don’t,” Kyle stated. He shifted against the darkness, and I imagined him slipping a garrote from his pocket.

My heart hammered so hard against my ribs, I was sure he could hear it. Freaked out, I took a super casual step back. “Okay, c’mon, y’gotta give me something here.” I laughed, but it was shaky and too high. “Do you still work for Saberton?”

Kyle took a super casual half-step forward, which, with his long legs, was pretty much a full one of mine. “What do you think?”

Forcing myself to hold my ground this time, I jerked my chin up. “I think you’re scaring the crap out of me, and I don’t fucking appreciate it.” Damn it, that would have sounded a lot tougher without the stupid little trapped-mouse squeak in my voice. “Either give me a straight answer, or . . . or do what you need to do and get it over with.”

I tensed, ready to fight anything he came at me with. His eyes stayed on me a moment more, but then he pivoted and moved several feet away. He stopped with his back to me, a dark shape vaguely silhouetted by the dim glow of streetlights at the far end of the block.

“You know your way back?” he asked, voice quiet and utterly flat.

I stared at the shadow that held him. “That’s it? Seriously?” Wait. Did I really say that? Resisting the urge to thwack my forehead with my palm, I sucked in a ragged breath as I fought to get my churning thoughts in order. I wanted to scream, I don’t want you to be the goddamn insider! “What the hell?” I said instead. “If you won’t even defend yourself, what am I supposed to think? C’mon, Kyle, I fucking like you. I think you’re cool and nice and scary in all the right ways. Except right now,” I amended. “Help me out here.”

“There’s no one here to like.” No anger. No sadness. No sense of hurt or betrayal. Nothing but stark emptiness. “Go back to the hotel, Angel.” And with that he moved off down the street.

It didn’t feel finished, not by a long shot, but I didn’t try to follow him or chase him down. He’d have no trouble getting away from me. I watched until he turned the corner, then I savagely kicked a can to skitter across the pavement with a loud clatter. Fuck! If he was innocent, I’d pissed him off by not trusting him—not that he’d bothered to stand up for himself or anything. I groaned. Why should he have to? I was supposed to be his ally.

But if he was guilty . . .

Ice crept down my spine. What would he do now that we’d uncovered his Saberton connection? Disappear? Bring a team to take us at the hotel? Why the hell didn’t I talk to the others about this first?

Hunching my shoulders against the chill, I turned and hurried back to the hotel.