White Trash Zombie Unchained (White Trash Zombie 6)

My mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds before I could form actual words. “Better judgment? I didn’t plan to fall onto a rusted car door and break my leg! Maybe someday you can tell me what it’s like to have everything in your life go exactly according to plan, where nothing unexpected happens, and nothing ever goes wrong.”

“Angel, I—”

“No!” I stabbed a finger into his sternum. “You listen to me, Captain Controlling. It wasn’t just a hunch. It was a goddamn lead, a good one that I dug up and followed. And I even found something! But hey, I guess I should check with you and the Tribe every time there’s a possible decision to be made, because obviously I’m too stupid to think for myself, and I need someone to hold my fucking hand!”

“Fuck.” Marcus stood and seized my arms, jaw tight. “Angel, I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“But you think I have poor judgment,” I shot back, voice quavering. That one stung, because I knew all about stupid, shitty choices. I’d made a whole lot of them in my day, but thought I was past all that.

Marcus sighed and squeezed my hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, because it isn’t true at all. You’re right. You pursued a hunch that turned into a solid lead, just like any good cop would do. And you had every reason to believe this would be a simple in-and-out operation.”

I eyed him. “And?”

“And . . . I don’t expect you to check with the Tribe every time you make a move, because you’re competent and careful.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth twitched in a wry smile. “I hope you realize how hard it is for me to say that.”

“I’m actually surprised your head didn’t explode.” Our dating relationship had been chock full of his well-intentioned controlling behavior.

Marcus winced. “I deserved that.”

“Nah, you’ve redeemed yourself about a million times over by putting up with this Tribe shit.” I took a deep breath. “And now that we have all the other stuff sorted out, I admit it would have been a smart move to at least let Brian know where I was going in case shit went south. As it was, no one knew.”

He inclined his head. “No argument from me on that. Apart from my being a controlling prick, it’s not about asking permission—it’s about keeping the team in the loop. And you are a valued member of the team.”

“Y’all have my back as much as I have yours.” The old loser me would have labeled checking in as control. I knew better, but it felt as if it was only now fully sinking in. “It’s cool. Next time I have a premeditated bit of criminal activity in mind, I’ll give Brian a heads up.”

Marcus smiled. “Good deal. So, what was the lead that took you to Big Bubba’s, and what did you find?”

I gave him the rundown about Reno and the car chase, my talk with Ben Roth, and Agent Aberdeen’s involvement. “This was in the CD tray,” I said, handing him the Double Dime Diner punch card. “But I have no idea what the letters and numbers could mean.”

Marcus frowned at the card. “I got nothing,” he said after a moment. “Sorry.”

“No worries. Might not even be related to our current drama.” I took the card back. “Now I have an unrelated personal question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Whaaaaat is the deal with Rachel and Rosario? You and Rachel were an item, and then you weren’t, and now she and Rosario are making goo-goo eyes at each other. Also, Rachel was actually nice to me, which is beyond comprehension. Am I in a coma and having a totally unrealistic dream?”

“Rachel has had a change of heart about you,” he said, shrugging as if that explained everything.

“Yeah, that’s the creepy part,” I said, eyes narrowing. “Why? She’s always hated my guts, convinced I’m going to blow up the Tribe or worse.”

“Only a few people know the whole truth about why you had to be regrown,” Marcus said. “The story that was circulated was somewhat vague, but the gist was that you suffered severe unexpected side-effects from a mod you used during the rescue in New York.” A smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. “Which is true.”

“But hardly the whole truth,” I pointed out. V12 was, indeed, the mod I’d legitimately used in New York. But the whole addiction thing afterward was my own damn fault, leading to my dramatic disintegration on Mardi Gras.

“And as for why the side-effects progressed to the point of deterioration,” Marcus continued, “it was leaked that you took a larger than usual dose in order to save the Tribe from exposure. Which is also true.”

“Whatever. And she bought that?”

“Somewhat. Rachel can be a real sucker for selfless acts of valor, but she wasn’t really sold until Dr. Nikas had a talk with her.” He shrugged. “I don’t know the details of what he said, but I gather he gave her a bit of a scolding—gentle, but no less scathing—and suggested she reconsider her outlook and her opinion of your worth and loyalty.”

“Oh man, a scolding from Dr. Nikas is the worst because he’s so darn nice.” Tears pricked my eyes just thinking about it. I’d been on the receiving end of a scolding or two from him. “So . . . why did you and Rachel break up?” I asked, totally casual-like. “I mean, y’know, not to pry or anything. Really.”

His eyes crinkled in humor. “Right. Not prying at all. It was mutual and amicable.” He paused. “Okay, I was the one who broke it off, but she was totally cool and mature about it. It felt a bit odd to be so new in this position and already dating an employee. Especially with the age difference. Plus, I felt like I needed to pay more attention to my work here.” A wince flashed across his face.