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

His flush continued to rise, but along with it came that damn defensive wall I’d seen before. He lifted his chin arrogantly. “It was a foolish move, given the circumstances.”

“A foolish move,” I repeated, almost as disgusted by his need to be superior as by his choice of words. Behind him I saw the lid of the bin lift and an arm snake out, a red line around the wrist that had yet to fully heal. The fingers moved in jerks, still not fully functional, but they worked well enough to grip Andrew’s hair.

I kept my face impassive as Andrew let out a strangled cry of horror and tried to scramble to his feet.

“Fooooolish,” Kyle rasped, using his hold on Andrew as leverage to haul himself up and partially out of the bin. Andrew twisted, squealing like a kid in a carnival haunted house, but with his hands secured behind him he couldn’t pull free. I stood and shifted back a couple of feet to avoid getting kicked by Andrew’s scrabbling feet, and bit my tongue to keep from laughing.

“Foooolish,” Kyle breathed, wet and burbly, and pulled his face close to Andrew’s. His stench rolled over me as blood and ichor dripped from his mouth and onto Andrew’s neck. “I . . . am feeling . . . foolish.” He shifted closer, and Andrew screamed. I almost felt sorry for Andrew, since this had to seem like a scene from a horror movie. Almost sorry. Okay, not really.

Then again, in the next instant, I saw he had a real reason to scream. Kyle had his teeth clamped on Andrew’s ear and probably the only reason he hadn’t bitten it off yet was the weakness of his jaw.

“Kyle, he’s Naomi’s brother,” I said mildly. “Take it easy, for her sake.”

Kyle loosened the bite, and I noted that the top half of Andrew’s ear already hung oddly and dribbled blood. “No promises,” he growled, but he released Andrew with a shove before flopping back into the bin.

Pierce hung up behind me. If he’d noticed the altercation, he’d seen no reason to intervene. “I’ll get the mod syringes off Brian.” As he spoke he pulled a second phone from his pocket. “Mine,” he said as he handed it to me, and I realized he meant Gentry’s. “Try calling Saber. Stall her or make a deal for him.” He gestured toward Andrew without looking at him. “Do what you can.”

“Got it.” I turned on the phone then started scrolling through Gentry’s contacts, somewhat surprised that there were only a dozen or so and none for Nicole Saber. I opened my mouth to ask Andrew for his mother’s number, then closed it as I saw a contact with the name CEOILF.

CEO I’d Like to Fuck? No way.

I quickly checked the text messages between Gentry and CEOILF. “Ohhhhhh myyyyyyy goddddddddddd!”

Pierce turned sharply, in the process of lifting the still unconscious Brian. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Dude! You were banging Nicole!”

Andrew jerked in shock. “What?”

Pierce almost dropped Brian back into the bin, denial in his eyes before he remembered he had to play Gentry in front of Andrew. He nodded once, tense. “Right. More info that way,” he said, improvising quickly. “And she was hot for it.”

Grinning, I skimmed through the texts, then checked Gentry’s pics on a whim. “Oh, dude! Pics and all! In the front lobby?” I looked back up at Pierce. “You animal!”

“Just doing my job.” He gave me an exasperated glare that Andrew couldn’t see and continued to search Brian for the syringes. Andrew simply looked horrified.

I was more than happy to twist this particular knife, especially since the taunting was a healthier way to channel my anger and fear than, say, punching him in the nose. “Oh, snap! A crotch shot!” I crowed to Andrew. “You came out of there!” His mouth worked soundlessly, flush deepening to crimson.

“Angel,” Pierce growled softly.

“Oh, right. The call. Sorry.” I’d give Pierce shit later about how his persona’s penis had been in Nicole Saber.

I returned to the contact list and dialed her number. Time to channel some more stress and worry into a bit of trash-talking. Luckily, I was damn good at that sort of thing.

She picked up on the second ring. “Pierce. You fucking asshole. What the hell is going on?”

Sounded like she’d heard the news Gentry had switched sides, and was appropriately freaked that her loverboy had duped her. Good. As much as I wanted to fuck with Andrew for not opposing the shit Kyle and Marcus went through, I wanted Nicole to fucking suffer for being responsible for it in the first place. “Nikki, darling!” I trilled. “It’s been so long, sweetie. We have got to get together for coffee someday soon!” I began to gloat about the naughty pics, then stopped. I’d save those for a special occasion.

“Crawford.” She snarled my name, managing to pack disdain and disgust into the one word. “What do you want?”

“Ooh! A pony? I’ve always wanted a pony!” I gushed, getting into the spirit of it. “Or, if I can’t have that, then maybe you can clear a passage for us, and in return I won’t eat your darlin’ son’s brain.” I covered the mouthpiece and spoke in a stage whisper to Andrew, “Don’t worry, I won’t eat your brain.” I paused and grinned. “I’ll let Kyle eat it!”

He g

lared but cast a fear-filled glance toward the bin. His bitten ear still trickled blood down the side of his neck.

Nicole remained quiet for a moment. “Agreed,” she finally said with icy calm. “Bring him up, and we’ll escort you out.”

“What about my pony?” I asked brightly. Since she had zero reason to believe otherwise, Nicole surely assumed that Gentry-the-traitor was human. She thought she was dealing “only” with zombie-me and human-Gentry. Not to mention, she figured we’d be dragging butt as we wrangled a bunch of out-of-commission zombies.