How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back (White Trash Zombie 4)

Before we had a chance to do much more than look at each other, Nicole Saber swept in like a queen at her own ball. She closed the door behind her and smiled tightly. “And now here we all are. Congresswoman Pennington, I’ve kept my side of the bargain.”

Jane cast a contemptuous glance at Nicole, then moved to the end of the table with me right on her heels. “Pietro?”

He stood as she approached, movements painfully slow and deliberate. “Jane, you shouldn’t be here.” His voice was rough, thready. His eyes flicked briefly to me before returning to Jane.

“I had to see you,” she replied. “I had to be sure you’re all right.”

“I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse,” he said then tilted his head toward Nicole. “Why did she let you in here?”

A smile brushed across Jane’s lips. “I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”

Understanding lit his eyes. “The contract,” he began, but Nicole cut him off.

“Enough chit chat,” she snapped. “You’ve seen what you came here to see.”

The look Jane gave Nicole could have burned a hole through concrete. “I told you I wanted to see Pietro and determine his well-being,” she said coldly. “I’ve yet to do so.” Dismissing her, she returned her attention to Pietro. “Are you getting enough to eat?”

“Adequate. You don’t need to worry about that.” He reached and took Jane’s hand with his unbandaged one, yet once again his eyes returned to me. Was he trying to tell me something? Or maybe he was sending some secret zombie message? If so, I was totally failing to get it.

“Your hand is like ice,” Jane murmured, so softly that I doubted any non-zombie in the room could hear it. She stroked her thumb over his fingers. “Are they giving you sufficient brains?”

Pietro’s attention snapped back to Jane, alarm flaring in his eyes before they dulled with fatigue again. “You . . .”

She took his hand in both of hers while I did my best to be very very very uninteresting and not worthy of notice. Pietro wouldn’t have to think very hard to figure out who let the cat out of the bag.

“Yes, Pietro,” Jane said. “I know, and I understand.”

Pietro sank back into the chair. Jane kept hold of his hand and pulled another chair close so that she could sit as well.

“Jane,” Pietro said, distressed. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Enough of the pathetic zombie love display!” Nicole snarled, a brittle edge to her voice.

Jane ignored the woman. “Don’t be,” she told Pietro. “I’m going to make sure you come out of this all right.” She leaned in and brushed her lips across his cheek, and only the fact that I was barely a couple of feet away with tanked up zombie hearing allowed me to pick up her fierce whisper. “I will gut this bitch if she harms my fiancé again.”

A low shudder went through him, then he slid his cheek against hers in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “Don’t compromise, my darling,” he responded, voice as soft as hers. “She’ll never let me go, no matter what the agreement.”

Nicole made an odd strangled noise. “Gentry! Get him out of here.”

“Mother, please calm down.” Andrew stepped forward and reached to take hold of his mother’s arm, then jerked his hand back, like a child remembering not to touch a hot stove. “The contract isn’t worth more trouble,” he said, and it sounded as though it wasn’t the first time he’d done so.

Jane stood, a deeply pitying expression on her face that was surely calculated to be as insulting as possible to Nicole. Mr. Perfect Eyebrows—Gentry—moved in on Pietro’s other side and yanked him to his feet. A hiss of pain slipped out of Pietro as his bandaged hand smacked against the edge of the table, but the ugly pleasure on Eyebrows/Gentry’s face told me the table-smack hadn’t been an accident. Total fucking asshole. But two could play that game. I took a step forward and made a point of scenting the air near him.

“Nice brain,” I murmured and bared my teeth in a feral smile.

Pietro’s eyes abruptly snapped to mine, sharp and clear, without any evidence of the earlier fatigue and pain. “You see this guy on the street,” Pietro jerked his head toward Gentry while keeping his eyes locked on mine, “don’t kill him. His name is Pierce Gentry, and his brain is mine.”

I blinked, more than a little taken aback by the sudden clarity, though in the next instant I realized I was the only one who’d been in a position to see it. Was he faking the fatigue and weakness? “You got it,” I replied.

Sneering, Gentry yanked Pietro’s arm again and hustled him out of the room. Pain shot through my hand, and when I glanced down I saw I had it clenched like a vise on the back of a chair.

Jane turned to Nicole, once again totally composed. “Why do I not have confidence that he will be well-treated and maintained?”

Nicole’s nostrils flared, and her eyes flashed with dangerous, barely controlled desperation, like a cornered mountain lion. “You have no choice but to trust me!” she said through gritted teeth. “We have a deal, and I’ll keep my end of it. You got what you wanted. Now get out of my building and give me my fucking defense contract.”

Behind her Andrew opened his mouth then shut it. His lips pressed together, anger in his stance that was clearly directed at his mother.

No way could I argue against Jane’s doubts, not with Nicole’s eyes shining with all kinds of crazy and Pietro’s statement that she’d never let him go. Jane needed to get the hell out while Nicole held the door wide open. I knew damn well that the second I took my eyes off Nicole Saber she’d do something fucked up, and I fully intended to keep Jane covered until I knew she was clear. Plus, I had an insane idea of my own hatching, and this bitch hadn’t tasted my flavor of Louisiana crazy yet.