White Trash Zombie Unchained (White Trash Zombie 6)

“I’m so sorry, Nick. We’ll fix this. I promise.” We had to.

I dove into the driver’s seat. A three-point turn later, we flew down the dirt track and careened onto the road. In the rear view mirror, I caught a glimpse of my car near the stand of pines. It was only a matter of time before big Bubba discovered it—and that one of the impounded cars had been ripped to pieces. He’d put two and two together, and a world of trouble would come down on my head. But I’d worry about that later. After I saved Nick.

As soon as I hit the highway, I called the lab to give them the gist of the situation, and tell them we were on the way. Followed a hunch at Bubba’s place. Nick. Shambler. Ten minutes away. Help.

And then I hauled ass, teeth clenched to keep me from breaking down and crying. Couldn’t start bawling yet. I needed to see the road.

Thumpity-thump-thump. From the trunk.

Why did I have to go and call Nick to help me instead of Marcus or Pierce or Brian? Any one of them would have been a more logical choice than Nick to handle a hungry, injured zombie. It hadn’t even occurred to me to call anyone else, but then again I’d been brain-starved and not thinking straight.

I cranked up the volume on the radio, tried to sing at the top of my lungs to drown out the thoughts and the thumps, but the words stuck in my throat. Fuck it. I didn’t need to worry about hearing damage. I turned the volume up to the max, let the music pound me as the miles slipped by.

I tore into the parking lot and slammed on the brakes, shaking in relief at the sight of people waiting for us outside the lab. Kyle, Marcus, Rachel, Jacques—and of course, Bear.

Killed the engine and popped the trunk. Then couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore. The combat mod had faded to nothing, leaving me weary and drained. Rachel and Kyle dragged the slavering Nick out of the trunk and held him down on a stretcher while Jacques secured medical restraints. I did nothing but shudder with big, snotty, chest-hurting sobs while the crew wheeled Nick inside, followed closely by an ashen-faced Bear.

My door opened, and Marcus was there, helping me stagger out. He didn’t say a word, just steadied me enough to walk. I didn’t need words. I needed the big gaping hole in my heart to heal, and that wasn’t going to happen until we found a cure.

Marcus steered me through security to the medical wing. By the time he let me go outside Nick’s room, my sobs had eased to sniffles.

Inside, Jacques and Kyle worked in smooth precision to transfer Nick to the bed and restrain him, then began setting up monitors and an IV.

Bear stood in the doorway, face stricken, holding himself back with an effort of will I doubted I’d ever possess.

“I’m sorry, B-bear,” I choked out. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

Bear spared me a perplexed look. “I know you’re the source of this disease, Angel. That doesn’t make this your fault.”

“I’m the source, but this is different. I infected him . . . when I kissed him.” My throat clogged. What the hell had I been thinking?

Bear turned to face me squarely and seized my upper arm. “Let me get this straight. You kis

sed Nick?”

I gulped and nodded. “And then he collapsed, like a minute later. I should never have—”

“Did you force a kiss on him?” His expression was stony, and his grip remained firm on my arm.

“N-no. He kissed me first.” Fresh tears welled up at the memory of that glorious, perfect moment. It felt like I’d waited my entire life for it.

Bear sighed and eased his grip. “Fuck me. He finally made a move.”

I blinked at him stupidly. “Huh?”

“That boy has been crazy for you since day one,” Bear murmured, finally releasing me. His anguished gaze returned to Nick. Yet to my shock, he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side in a reassuring embrace—which of course started me crying all over again.

“Shh,” he said. “It’s going to be all right, Angel. Your Dr. Nikas and that Dr. Charish will find a cure for this shit.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I have to believe that.”

I let out a shuddering breath. “Me too.”

We both fell silent and watched the activity around the bed. Now that Nick was restrained and his IV started, Jacques and Kyle collected samples of blood, body fluids, and various tissues.

“Nick’s mom and I divorced when he was four,” Bear said after a moment, voice low. “She wasn’t ready to be a mom. Never really wanted to be one either, to be honest. Her career was taking off, and it didn’t leave much room for raising a kid. Nor did living in Podunk, Louisiana. She just moved to New York one day, and that was it. Didn’t ask for custody.”

“What about visitation?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “When Nick was little, I used to take him to see her for Christmas and a couple of weeks each summer. But I stopped when he was nine. It tore him up too much to get his mom back only to have her ripped away again. Plus it was pretty clear she wasn’t invested in being a part of his life.” He shook his head. “She’s not a wicked witch. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. She’s an investment banker and travels all over the world. She’s a huge advocate for women’s rights worldwide—even started a micro loan program for women in poverty-stricken areas. Donated a shit-ton of money to build hospitals and clinics in Haiti. She’s a good person, but she knew she was going to end up being a terrible mother.”