Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)
He ran around and wrenched open the truck’s door. The stink that hit him was almost overwhelming, and he gagged. God, hadn’t this madman showered in the last twenty years? He reached in, grabbed the idiot by the arm, and pulled him out of the cab.
The driver hit the dirt and didn’t move—though if the wild gyrations of his arms and legs were anything to go by, he was certainly trying. It looked for all the world like there was an invisible weight sitting on his chest, holding him down.
“It’s a zombie.” Kat stopped beside him, a bead of perspiration running down her cheek and an odd look of concentration on her face.
“As in Night of the Living Dead?”
“Yep.”
He kicked the idiot’s foot. “He doesn’t feel dead. And he’s certainly not acting dead.”
The look she gave him suggested frustration. Or annoyance. “Well, no, and that’s because he’s the living dead and not the dead dead.”
He swallowed the urge to argue the point. “We’ll tie this moron up, then I’ll call Mark and ask him to take care of the problem.”
“The zombie won’t be here by the time your partner gets the cops here.”
“I tie a pretty mean knot, lady, and I have no intention of leaving the keys here.”
“That doesn’t matter. He’s a zombie. He has more strength than you or I, and being tied with rope won’t slow him down.”
He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. “So what do you suggest I do?”
“Kill it.”
He stared at her. “You and your grandmother really do have this thing about killing, don’t you?”
She indicated the squirming, stinking mass at their feet. “When you’re dealing with the likes of this, you have no choice.”
“I’m a cop and, despite common belief, we do not go around shooting people just for the fun of it.”
“I’m not for a moment suggesting you shoot anything for fun. However, unless you want this thing coming after us, you need to either shoot its brains out or break its neck.”
“I may be a werewolf, but I’m not a monster.” He was beginning to wonder, however, if she was. But that certainly didn’t kill his desire for her. Not in the least. “Go fetch the rope from the trunk.”
She glared at him, then spun on her heel and did as he asked. Several seconds later she tossed the rope at him. “You’ll regret this, you kn
ow.”
“I’d regret killing him even more.” He quickly tied the stinking mass, then tossed it in the back of the truck. The aroma of death seemed to cling to him as he stepped away. “I’ll drive this thing off the road, then we’ll continue on.”
“Will the Caddie be drivable?”
“I think so.” However, it certainly looked as if he’d be climbing in and out from the passenger side for the next few days. He leaped into the pickup and reversed it off the road, out of everyone’s way. Then he checked to make sure the idiot was still trussed tight and tossed the keys deep into the trees.
When he turned around, Kat had her hands thrust onto her hips, one foot tapping and eyes narrowed. She looked as if she was up to something, but he wasn’t sure what. He crossed the road, and her expression suddenly cleared.
“All done now?” Annoyance and amusement combined in her voice and made him just a little uneasy.
“Not yet.” He walked past her and inspected the damage to his car. As he suspected, the driver’s door had been punched in too far to open. Both driver’s-side door panels had sustained severe damage, but nothing that would affect the car’s overall drivability. He hoped. It would be a cow to handle, though.
“Let’s go.” He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her, then climbed into the car and started the engine.
She got in after him, then flipped down the sun visor and began cleaning her wound with the aid of the vanity mirror. “Not deep.”
“No.”
He took off slowly. The Caddie shuddered and groaned, the rear end making a variety of noises he just didn’t like. He gradually built up speed, but he had to ease up on the accelerator as they neared forty. The vibrations were too drastic to tempt fate by going any faster.