How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back

by Diana Rowland

  “Is his skin icy and pale?” he asked with a strange urgency. “Check the inside of his eyelids. Are they pale as well? As if there’s barely enough blood to make them pink?”

  “Um, hang on, and I’ll check.” I jogged back up the tunnel to Gentry and checked his skin and eyelids. Philip gave me a questioning look, but I could only give him an I-have-no-fucking-idea shrug in response. “Yes, to all of that,” I told Dr. Nikas. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh. Oh my goodness,” he breathed. “Bring him. Bring him with you when you come here.”

  “Sure, but how—” I stopped at the sound of more scuffling, and then Brian came back on the line.

  “Angel, tell me where you are.”

  “Right by Lincoln Center.” I quickly explained where the hatch was, then brought him up to speed on Kyle’s capture, Naomi’s injury, and Andrew as hostage.

  “Get everyone ready to move,” Brian said. “I’ll call you when I’m five minutes out.” And with that he hung up.

  Sighing, I pocketed the phone. “Time to say goodbye to the roaches and rats, everyone.”

  Chapter 29

  When the call came, we hustled everyone up the tunnel and to the surface. Or rather, Philip carried Naomi to the ladder and followed her up as she did an awkward one-footed climb, then Brian came down and hoisted Andrew—ziptied, gagged, and blindfolded—over his shoulder and carried him up the ladder, repeated the process with Gentry, and finally I brought up the rear. Fortunately, Brian had strategically parked the big-ass SUV right by the hatch, and we managed to get everyone in without any witnesses to the fact that two members of our party were having fun with zipties.

  Still out cold, Gentry took up the floor by the middle row of seats, while Andrew got the floor of the back row.

  Brian drove in silence, no doubt because of Andrew’s presence. Philip and I sat in the middle row while Naomi took the back in order to put her leg up on the seat. Unsettled, I kept looking down at Gentry. Why had Dr. Nikas sounded so agitated and yet so protective of the asshole? I looked up to see Brian watching me in the rearview mirror. I gave him a worried What the fuck? look, which he returned.

  As soon as we were certain no one was following, I pulled out my phone and texted Jane an update on our status, along with a promise to call her as soon as I knew more. After I sent it, I sighed, wishing I had good news about Pietro for her. Instead we were back to square one. Hell, square zero.

  On the floor behind me, Andrew made muffled noises behind the gag. “Shut up, Andrew,” I said quietly but oh-so-firmly, hoping he heard the unspoken, or I will help you shut up.

  “Yeah, what she said,” Naomi added in a similar tone.

  I rubbed the place on my arm where Philip had cut the bug out. Even though it was all healed up, the idea of it still festered. How much had they heard? The thing had been in there for months, which meant they’d been able to spy on all sorts of shit. Every phone call, every personal conversation, even stuff I did at work. Did they get a sick thrill when they listened to Marcus and me having sex? Did they laugh when we broke up? How hard did they snicker when I poured my heart out to Naomi . . . ?

  Shock jerked me upright. I spun in my seat to look at Naomi, then gestured wildly at the spot on my arm and to her. Clearly baffled, she opened her mouth to speak, but I frantically waved her quiet while pointing to Andrew. I didn’t want him to hear any of this. She frowned but closed her mouth, and I pointed to my arm then her again.

  The bug, I mouthed. They know about you!

  Her bafflement increased. Go pout too?

  I rolled my eyes and tried again, and this time Naomi’s eyes flew open wide as it hit her. My mother! she mouthed in reply as horror crawled over her face. She knows I’m alive!

  I scowled and nodded, then pointed at Andrew again. But I don’t think he knows. If he did, then he’d have also known Naomi was Julia, and he’d given no hint of recognition. None. Zip. Zero. The dude was clever, but no way was he that good an actor.

  Her brow furrowed as she looked down at the bound, gagged, and blindfolded form of her brother, and I had a feeling her thoughts were echoing mine. An instant later her horror shifted to rage. She held back intel and let him think I was dead? That fucking bitch!

  Couldn’t argue with her there. She slumped back and let her gaze drift out the window as she tried to process this revelation. Suddenly exhausted, I shut my eyes and leaned my head back. Right now all I wanted was to get settled someplace that wasn’t a grimy underground tunnel, where I could have a few minutes of not-worrying. Yeah, that would rock.

  The overhead light woke me, and I opened my eyes to see we were in a garage with the door closing behind us.

  “Where are we?” I asked, rubbing grit out of my eyes.

  “Queens,” Brian said. He got out, came around and opened my door. “Let’s get him inside.” He gestured to the still unconscious Gentry at my feet. “We’ll leave Saber in here for a moment.”

  “Maybe you should leave the car running,” Naomi grumbled as Philip helped her out.

  I grinned at her comment then had to focus all my attention on helping Brian get the heavy Gentry out of the SUV, through the utility room, and into the house. It was a two story deal, and at first glance appeared to be at least four bedrooms. An older house, I figured, judging by the mild wear and tear on corners and floors and walls. Nicely furnished with nothing extravagant. Comfy.

  Dr. Nikas stood in the kitchen, eyes widening at the sight of Gentry. “Oh. Oh, my. Bedroom.” He gestured to a hallway. “Please bring him to the master bedroom.”

  “Sure thing,” I wheezed. Good grief, were there any steroids this asshole hadn’t used? By the time we muscled Gentry down the hall and into the indicated bedroom, I was more than ready to drop his ass on the floor. The only reason I didn’t was because Brian gave me a look as if he knew exactly what I had in mind—probably because he felt the same way. In the end it was only because it was Dr. Nikas who asked that we went ahead and flopped the brute onto the bed.

  “I hate this fucker more and more,” I muttered as I caught my breath, then straightened and tried to look cool as Dr. Nikas entered behind us.

  “Remove the restraints,” he said. He didn’t look at either one of us. He was focused fully on Gentry the Giant Heavy Deadweight.

  I gave him a dubious look. “What if he wakes up?” From the other side of the bed, Brian looked equally doubtful.

  “It will be all right,” Dr. Nikas replied, utterly calm as he moved up to Gentry’s head. He laid a hand on the man’s forehead, then wiped his fingers down and over his cheek. He touched them to his tongue, using his weird zombie-taste diagnostics, then exhaled softly. “He won’t hurt any of us.”

  “How can you be sure?” I asked. I noticed that Brian wasn’t moving to cut the zip ties. Nice to know he and I were totally on the same page here.

  Dr. Nikas pursed his lips and glanced at the two of us as if unsure whether to speak. “Because . . . this isn’t who you think it is,” he said, which of course explained absolutely nothing. He peered at the unconscious man. “You said his name was Gentry?”

  My confusion increased. “Yeah. Gentry. Um, Pierce Gentry.” That’s what Pietro had said, right? I peered at the Saberton guard’s face. It was him, wasn’t it? The eyebrows were a lot shaggier than I remembered, but otherwise it sure looked like the same man. “I don’t understand. Does Pierce have a twin who’s a zombie?”

  The man in question stirred, and I took an automatic step back from the bed.

  “No twin.” Dr. Nikas shook his head, then gestured to Brian. “Please, cut the bindings.”

  Gentry groaned. “These . . . two . . .” He dragged in a breath. “. . . tell them.”

  “Tell?” I stared at Dr. Nikas. Brian still hadn’t pulled a knife to cut the zipties. “What on earth is going on? Tell what?”

  Dr. Nikas moved to
the door and closed it, then returned to the bedside, rested a hand on Gentry’s shoulder, and spoke to him in a language that sounded sort of like Russian. Gentry shifted and, to my shock, answered in the same language.

  I stared at them both. “What the shit?”

  Dr. Nikas spoke in a quiet voice, eyes still on Gentry. “This is Pietro.”

  Brian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and doubt. “Step away from him, Dr. Nikas.”

  “What the shit?” I repeated.

  Dr. Nikas stood and faced us, irritation wrinkling his forehead. “No, I will not step away from him,” he said firmly. “And don’t even think of tranqing me,” he added with a surprisingly sharp glare at Brian. “This is the one you knew as Pietro.”

  Crap. How the hell could I doubt Dr. Nikas when he was so clear and insistent? I shifted my attention to Gentry again. “How can this be Pietro?”

  Gentry opened his eyes and met mine, drew a deep and difficult breath. “Ate . . . motherfucker’s . . . brain.”

  Well, that was something anyone pretending to be a loyal zombie would say. Besides, we’d all eaten bunches of brains without turning into someone else. I narrowed my eyes. “What color shirt was I wearing when I ran into you and Jane at Dear John’s Café?”

  “No idea.” He took a labored breath. “What color tie . . . was I . . . wearing?”

  Shit. Bastard had a point, but it only made my pissy mood pissier. “No idea,” I muttered, then planted my hands on my hips and scowled. “How the hell can you be Pietro?”

  “Gourmet . . . Gala.” He licked dry lips. “Bitch . . . jacket. You . . . wanted to . . . slug her.”

  My hands dropped to my sides. “Oh, man.” At the Gourmet Gala several months ago I’d worn a really cool thigh length dark red velvet jacket I’d bought at a thrift shop, and then had an unpleasant encounter with the previous owner that Pietro had witnessed. And that was before Saberton implanted the stupid bug.

  “Brian, it’s him,” I said, then looked to Dr. Nikas. “How?”

  Brian gave me a long frowning look, but finally moved forward and sliced through the zipties.

  “He chose to morph,” Dr. Nikas said as he rolled Gentry/Pietro to his back and rubbed at his wrists. “He was not planning on doing so for several more decades.”

  I bit back the urge to say What the shit? again, but the frustration nearly swallowed me whole. “Morph? But what does that mean?”

  “He repatterned his DNA to mimic Pierce Gentry’s. The process is very similar to the zombie healing, but using a different blueprint rather than the existing one.”

  It was a small consolation that Brian mirrored my open-mouthed stare. “We can do that?” I spluttered. That gave a whole new meaning to You are what you eat.

  Dr. Nikas shook his head. “Only a very few can. The mature ones.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “Pietro didn’t take over Gentry’s body, but instead changed his own body to Gentry’s shape, based on Gentry’s DNA.” When Dr. Nikas nodded, I continued, “Which means that the real Gentry’s corpse is still out there somewhere. Am I tracking right?”

  “Dead on.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed and peered at Gentry’s face. I wasn’t anywhere near as freaked out as I probably should’ve been. “Now what?”

  “He needs water and supplements,” Dr. Nikas stated, and with that he left the room.

  Gentry/Pietro shifted his head to look at me with half-lidded eyes. I met his gaze and sighed heavily. “Pietro, you stole the identity of an asshole!”

  His lip curled in agreement. “Best choice . . . available.”

  “At least you killed him,” I said.

  “Deserved worse,” he replied, voice getting a bit stronger. “And I am no longer . . . Pietro. Cannot be.” Regret and frustration swept across his face before he shook his head. “Cannot be. Must be Pierce now.”

  “Pierce,” I echoed. “Got it.” Too weird. But at least it was kind of close to Pietro.

  Pierce’s eyes met mine again. “Jane?”

  “She’s safe,” I told him. “She got out before all the shit hit the fan. I made sure of that.”

  Clearly relieved, he nodded and closed his eyes again, though I didn’t think he was sleeping. A few minutes later Dr. Nikas returned holding a tray with four glasses. Two looked as if they contained water, but the other two held murky, muddy substances—one a dusky blue and the other a sickly green.

  “Brian, will you adjust the pillows to allow him to sit up a bit more?” Dr. Nikas asked. Brian complied, and as soon as Pierce was more upright the doctor handed Brian the glass containing the blue drink. “Have him drink this one first, then the water,” he instructed, then passed me the glass of gross green stuff. “It looks worse than it tastes, but it should counter most of the symptoms of the imprint until we return home.”

  I made the mistake of sniffing it. “Oh, that’s nasty,” I said with a shudder. “Will Philip have to drink this too?”

  Amusement flickered behind the weariness in his eyes. “He already has.”

  Damn it. I held my breath and chugged it down, surprised to find that it really did look and smell worse than it tasted. Still, it wasn’t a chocolate milkshake by any stretch, and I gladly accepted the water he had ready.

  Once I cleared the yucky taste from my mouth I returned my attention to Pierce. He’d finished the blue drink and the water, and didn’t look quite as flattened anymore. Dr. Nikas took his wrist to check his pulse, and the faint smile of admiration and respect Pierce gave him was all the confirmation I needed that this really was the man I’d known as Pietro Ivanov.

  “They have Kyle,” I told him, finally able to let that worry surface. “They tranqed him while we were getting out. We have to go back for him.”

  Brian gave a grim nod. “We need to make a plan. Dr. Nikas, is Philip stable enough to take Naomi to an urgent care clinic for her ankle?”

  “He should remain stable for long enough to accomplish that,” Dr. Nikas replied as he gently set Pierce’s wrist down.

  Pierce drew a sharp breath. “Marcus—”

  “Marcus went to New Orleans the day after you were taken,” I told him, then smacked my forehead. “Shit! I meant to call him and give him an update.”

  He shook his head, pushed up on his elbows despite the distressed noise that wrung from Dr. Nikas. “No. No. They have him.”

  Shock held me in its grip for several seconds. “You’re wrong,” I finally managed to force out. “That’s not possible. He was with me that evening.”

  “Angel, believe me.” His eyes met mine. They were light grey rather than deep brown now, but I recognized the force behind them. “Saberton has him.”

  I stumbled to my feet. Somehow all the air was gone from the room. Brian said something to Pierce, face contorted in anger and distress, yet I couldn’t make out the words. Dr. Nikas reached for me, worry darkening his eyes, but I took another step back then turned and rushed out of the room.

  As soon as I stepped into the hallway I could breathe again, but fury spurred me on. It took me a couple of tries, but I finally found Andrew upstairs. He was dozing on one of two twin beds in an otherwise unfurnished room, shackled by one wrist and one ankle to the frame of the bed. I closed the distance between us in two steps, grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him close. He jerked out of the doze, eyes flying open in shock as he brought his free hand up in instinctive defense.

  “Your people have Marcus?” I yelled without a single speck of calm whatsoever.

  “What? Shit!”

  I shook him, rattling the chain on his wrist shackle along with the teeth in his head. “Do you motherfuckers have Marcus Ivanov?”

  His expression went stony. “Why do you think that?”

  A low growl throbbed through the room. Mine. I bared my teeth. “Don’t fuck with me. I have a rel
iable source, so answer my fucking question!”

  His gaze flicked around the room in an instinctive search for escape before he controlled himself. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. Saberton has him.”

  Breathing hard, I released him and took a step back. “Anyone else there I need to know about?”

  “He’s the only other one in New York besides Pietro Ivanov. And Griffin now.”

  No way was I going to correct him about Pietro. “When did your people take Marcus?”

  Andrew tugged his shirt straight. “Evening, the same day as the others. He was a secondary target since Archer intercepted Dr. Nikas before we could get to him.”

  A chill began to work its way down my spine. “How . . . ? How was he taken?”

  “In his house,” Andrew replied with annoying calm. “Not even a fight.”

  “What? A home invasion?” I felt almost lightheaded. “Your people busted in and grabbed him?”

  His mouth twitched in faint amusement. “You want the play-by-play?”

  Clenching my fists, I advanced on him again. “I am so not in the mood for your bullshit.”

  He drew back but recovered quickly. “Not so dramatic as breaking in and grabbing him,” he said with a tight smirk. “The team kicked back in his house and waited for him to walk through the front door. Took him down with tranqs in seconds. He had no mods, which made it easy.”

  A desire filled me to smash a fist into that arrogant face, and I stood trembling with hands and teeth clenched for several seconds as I fought it back, only doing so because this was Naomi’s brother. Besides, one nose-breaking a day was probably a good limit.

  I turned and exited without another word, slammed the door behind me, then returned to Pierce’s room. He was sitting up a bit more now, and already looked more stable. He began to speak as I entered but stopped at the look on my face.

  “They took him less than an hour—” I paused to fight past the knot in my throat. “—less than an hour after we broke up.”

  Pierce glanced at Dr. Nikas and Brian, and they both exited at the unspoken request.