I snorted a giggle.
“The point is, the gross stuff doesn’t matter to me. You matter to me.”
A warm tingly sensation chased away the last of the pain. “You matter to me, too.”
“You okay now?”
I flexed my foot. “Yeah. I think so. How do I look?”
“Back to the Angel I know and . . .” He stood and drew me to my feet then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a kiss.
I melted into it, layers of stress and drama and pain of the past hour, the past month, falling away. His hands were warm and strong on my back, running up beneath my makeshift crop top. A wicked little part of me was glad my sports bra was tied around my leg, leaving my tits free for him to—Oh yeah. That.
He breathlessly broke the kiss about a year later and took my hand. “We’d better get out of here. I’m parked down by the gate.”
“Dude, you reek of DEET, y’know?”
He laughed. “My new aftershave.”
“I suppose I can tolerate it.” I smiled. “For now.”
We headed down the dirt track, hand in hand. He glanced at me. “Had to break your window to get the brains. Sorry. I’ll have it fixed.”
I smiled, comfortable and happy. “If that’s the worst thing to come out of this night, we’ll count ourselves lucky.”
His reply choked off, and he stumbled. “An . . . gel?”
“Nick! What’s wrong? What—”
He gave a deep moan and collapsed in a seizure at my feet.
Chapter 31
I stared in shocked disbelief, heart pounding. “No! Oh no. Nick? Nick!” How could this be happening? He was wearing mosquito repellent, so it couldn’t be a bite—
The kiss. That had to be it. Oh god. Not Nick.
Needed to get him somewhere safe. To the lab. I took deep breaths to calm the panic and willed myself into emergency overdrive. Hands shaking, I rolled Nick to his side. Dug keys from his pocket. Scaled the fence. Sprinted to his car by the gate.
Ram it right through the chained gate? No, wait. I dug through his trunk instead and came up with bolt cutters. Preppers gotta prep, right?
Cut the chain, kicked open the gate. Cranked the engine, peeled out down the dirt track toward where I’d left him. He loomed from the darkness in the wash of headlights, shambling with arms outstretched and lips pulled back in a snarl.
Slammed the car into park and left the lights on.
Cold knotted in my belly, and a sob rose. Stop it. No time for that. I had to move fast. I activated a dose of combat mod and counted down. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Sweet fire breathed through my veins. Night sounds of crickets and frogs amplified and resolved. My vision sharpened.
With my reflexes and senses at peak performance, I pulled the trunk release and bailed out of the car. Jumped up and down and waved my arms, hoping Nick would behave like other shamblers and try to pursue and bite. “C’mon Nick! Woooo. This way! Come at me, bro!”
His head swiveled toward me, eyes dead-white in the harsh light.
“That’s it.” I took a step toward the rear of the car. “C’mon.”
He lurched forward with awkward, unbalanced steps.
I lured him until he was by the trunk then, in a blur of mod-enhanced zombie speed and strength no shambler could match, I tackled him into the trunk, stuffed his arms and legs in, and slammed the lid on him. Opened it again and grabbed the roll of duct tape I’d spied. Closed the lid. Pulled a long piece of tape off the roll, opened the trunk, wrapped Nick’s wrists and hands. Slammed it again. Good. Good enough. No way was he coherent enough to use the trunk latch release on purpose, and with his hands wrapped he wouldn’t do so accidentally either.