How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back (White Trash Zombie 4) - Page 104

“Boring to you,” I put in. “I get the feeling he really likes it.”

A grimace flashed over her face. “Yeah, he does. Now,” she added. “We were groomed for our talents—and our roles—when we were kids. I was lucky and loved mine. He learned to love his.” She bit her lip. “I never thought I’d abandoned him, but I guess in a way I did.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” I said. “He’s a grown man who makes his own choices.”

“Andrew is Andrew. I’m used to it.” A determined expression settled across her face, though I now suspected that Tough Determination was as much of a fake front as Andrew’s Cool and Unruffled Businessman. “Once we get Marcus and Kyle back I’ll have room to rant about my brother’s priorities,” she continued.

“Right.” I gave her a quick hug. “Gotta go check in with Pierce on the plan.” I started to turn away then paused. “You have any tweezers?”

She gave me a baffled look, but dug a pair out of her bag and handed them over.

“Thanks. I’ll bring them back before we leave.” I didn’t know the plan yet, but I knew that part of it depended on Pierce passing himself off as the real Pierce Gentry.

I found Pierce in the garage. The SUV was gone, and in its place was a white cargo van. He closed the van’s back doors and looked over at me.

“Angel? Is something wrong?”

Grinning, I waggled the tweezers at him. “Let’s go, dude. We got some eyebrows to tame.”

Chapter 32

This is what my life has become. Stuffed into the bottom of a garbage bin.

It was a clean one, at least, and pretty darn roomy, for a garbage bin. Pierce and Brian had muttered stuff about specs and load capacity and two cubic yards, blah blah. About three feet deep with a footprint a smidge smaller than a hospital bed, it was basically a big ass blue industrial plastic mini-dumpster on wheels.

I’d been curled up inside of it for the last few minutes, or ever since we crossed the river heading into midtown Manhattan toward Saberton’s headquarters. The not-bad part was Brian curled up inside it as well. Spooning me, in fact, which I couldn’t help enjoying on a primitive physical level even though I considered Brian to be in the special category reserved for Best Friends and Big Brothers.

In turn, I spooned a blanket-covered selection of tools we figured might come in handy, and, for a slightly lumpy pillow, I had an insulated lunch box containing a few baggies of diced brains, since we were down to only three packets remaining from the lab. Maybe it’s a good thing Philip had to stay behind with Dr. Nikas, I mused. Philip was a pretty big guy, and I had a hard time imagining him and Brian cuddled up in the dumpster.

“Entering the garage now, folks,” Pierce said, interrupting my mental wanderings, which was probably a damn good thing considering the direction they were headed. I felt the van turn, and then some bumps, followed by a sense of going down a slight incline. “We have our plan, but everyone needs to keep their senses sharp,” he continued. “Anything could change at any time.”

The van backed up, stopped, and the engine died. Brian shifted positions behind me slightly, and I bit down on an insane need to giggle.

“What’s wrong?” Brian whispered.

“You’re poking me in the butt!”

He made a strangled sound, and I couldn’t tell if it was laughter or exasperation. Possibly both. “It’s my gun. Sorry.”

I clamped both hands over my mouth and shook with laughter.

“Not that kind of gun, you dork!”

The back doors of the van opened, and I quickly got myself under control.

“I’ll take care of this myself, sir.” That was Pierce’s voice. We were inside Saberton walls, which meant we were probably under surveillance already.

“Thank you, Gentry,” Andrew replied. He sounded tired and stressed but holding it together.

“Can’t let anything happen to the goods,” Pierce said, surprising me with a sharp yank on the bin. For an instant I thought we were going to tumble out of the back of the van and onto the ground, but instead I felt only a rough bump.

The loading dock, I realized as I did my best to relax again.

“Close your eyes and go limp,” Brian said very softly in my ear. “Someone could open the bin to check at any time.”

Right. Play tranqed. I obediently closed my eyes and went as limp as possible. It helped that Brian had moved the gun.

I heard a jingle of keys followed by a beep and a door opening. Andrew using his fob to activate the latch, I decided.

Tags: Diana Rowland White Trash Zombie Fantasy
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