Zombie Infestation Read online

  “Tiger? No more honey and sweetheart?” He laughed. I heard the strain behind his bravado.

  “Not right now. You need hard-ass and tigers. Step up,” I said as we reached the shower/tub combo.

  He looked at me in mute appeal. I understood. He probably couldn’t lift his leg that high and was too proud to ask. I nodded. With my right arm under his knee, I lifted, pulling his leg out and up by sliding my forearm down his calf.

  I tried to ignore his nudity, but didn’t completely succeed. His body was muscled and tanned. All over. I pointedly fixed my eyes on the end of his foot and helped him put his leg over and down into the tub. Taking his arm off my shoulders, I helped him lean against the shower wall, facing the showerhead. Again, I put an arm under his knee, but this time, he shifted his hips as I lifted his leg.

  “They did a number on you. What’s the point?”

  “I think their point is, they can.” He groaned when I turned the water on. “They wanted to show the FBI they can get to any agent at any time. Nothing to do with you. She acted like I held back to get you emotional.” Another moan escaped him.

  I bit my lip. “I figured that out too late. I fell for it.”

  “That’s a good thing,” he said through gritted teeth. “It will help us for her to continually underestimate you. I know the two you call Suits did. So did whoever chose you for this assignment.”

  I shuddered inwardly. This man was good. He knew me—already. Again, I had to admire his smarts. “What makes you say that?”

  “You were ready for trouble when you walked in the door. You knew immediately from a short call with someone you hardly know there was trouble.” He sucked in a breath. “Fuck!”

  “What?”

  “The feeling is coming back in my legs. Quickly.”

  “How long were you tortured by Andrea and company?” I said to help get his mind off the pain. Maybe not the best choice in subjects, but I didn’t know what else to ask.

  “They didn’t start torturing me until they lost you at the hotel you were scheduled to stay in. They expected you two days ago. It was shortly after we talked. They wanted to know where you were. Someone’s got a mole in the FBI. Their intentions have changed. They plan to do things on their own terms.” He smiled. “You messed up their plans, honey.”

  I snorted and tried not to be so pleased at the note of approval in his voice. “Shall I send them a fruit basket and an apology? I’d rather send them the mole’s heads on a pike. You think my message would be clear enough for them?”

  It was his turn to snort. “Blood thirsty wench, aren’t you? I like the pike touch. Adds a certain barbarism to it.”

  Even though I was the one who brought it up, I felt defensive. “I learned a long time ago, civilization is a mask so the weaker among us can cope.”

  The silence in the bathroom was thick, full of ghosts. I knew too well what the ghosts were on my end. But what were his?

  “One day,” he said quietly. “I want to hear about it. Not today.”

  I watched as he turned around, ready to jump in and help if he looked unsteady. Standing outside the spray to keep water off my favorite leathers, I grabbed a towel left by the hotel and waited.

  “What’s the plan she mentioned? And who’s the guy in charge that makes her look like a pussy cat? And do you know why they want a writer who has no experience in this kind of thing? I would think a journalist would be more suited, even if they’re worried about objectivity.” I needed to steer the conversation back to the business at hand.

  “Supposedly, they want someone who isn’t likely to have their own agenda.” He sounded bone-tired.

  “That’s the party line the Suits fed me and I bought it then about as much as I do now. Which was not at all. What’s your take after the mini vacation I interrupted?”

  Even though I knew he stalled, I waited patiently while he groaned his way through cleaning his various cuts and scrapes.

  “My official take is the same as before.”

  I loved the way he answered truthfully, but not. “And your personal take?”

  “My personal take is they wanted an excuse to be problematic. This whole thing is off. I told you they came to us because they distrusted civilians. It’s the only thing I can think of. As for the journalist, it’s possible, they wanted someone less ambitious or as cutthroat as the paparazzi.”

  Looking at his body, they had some gall accusing others of being cutthroat.

  “You don’t sound very sure of yourself.” His nude body distracted me and made me feel too hot for leathers. Probably the weather. Yes, blame the weather.

  “I’m not sure. None of this makes sense. Why torture an FBI agent who’s bringing you someone you asked for? Even if she’s a little late, your resources should’ve told you she was still coming. The only reason I can see to all of this is to intimidate and harass. Or get me thrown off the case.”

  His last words caused me to look at his face. It showed the same epiphany I felt. “That has to be it.”

  “Of course, that makes sense,” he whispered so low, I almost didn’t catch the words. “And if that’s the case—”

  “If that’s the case, they may also have bugged this room,” I finished as quietly as he’d started.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  I turned off the water and handed him the towels to cover himself. “Can you move by yourself,” I asked in normal tones.

  Nodding his head yes, he said, “No. I can barely hold myself up.”

  Got it. He didn’t want whoever may be listening to know he was mobile, if painfully so. “Okay, I’ll help you to the bed. Ready?” After he stood next to the bed where his clothes were piled, I pulled my gun out and went to look out the window and peephole. Nothing as far as I could tell, but no point in betting our lives on it.

  When I turned back, Agent Connelly smiled before dropping his white t-shirt over his torso. He’d managed to hobble into his jeans. His weapon and badge sat on the bed.

  “They kept it in a drawer. Taunted me with it more than once,” he responded to the question in my eyes.

  Swallowing the pity phrase on the tip of my tongue, I shook my head instead. “Assholes.” I dropped my voice again and stood close. “My car is parked a couple of blocks away,” I explained, changing the subject.

  “Blocks,” he croaked.

  I smiled at his incredulous look. “I didn’t like the look of things when I drove up. Decided I didn’t want my vehicle in the line of fire.” I shrugged. “So sue me.”

  He groaned and I ignored it. Instead, I backed off again and spoke in normal tones. “There an ice machine in this joint?”

  “Near the front desk, I think.”

  “Let’s go get you some ice. It’ll help, maybe loosen your muscles.”

  I knelt down and helped him with his shoes. I put them on as quickly as possible. “I can try it,” he said, buttoning his shirt and nodding briskly.

  “They may be watching,” I stated in undertones, handing him his suit jacket and tie from the closet. I watched as he stubbornly put on his holster without asking for help. “Considerate of them to leave you your clothes.”

  “Yeah. Wonderful.”

  We stood at the door. With my gun, I separated the curtains for another look. “I don’t see anything out of place, but they could be anywhere,” I whispered. “You recognize anything?”

  He cautiously peered out both the window and the peephole. “No, but that doesn’t mean much. They brought me here after dark and blindfolded.”

  “We’re going to have to risk it anyway. I’m parked on this side of the road. Can you reach your weapon quickly?”

  He tried. A grimace crossed his face. “Not too quickly. But I can get it.”

  I nodded. It would have to do. We couldn’t go around brandishing our weapons in broad daylight. It would draw unwanted attention our way. Didn’t mean I had to like it.

  “Ready?” I asked at a normal volume.

  “Yes.�
�

  We cautiously left the hotel room, him leaning heavily on me.

  “How much of this is an act?” I asked under my breath as a large portion of his weight settled on me.

  “Only about half,” he muttered.

  “Shit.”

  We barely passed the front lobby area when chaos broke out. As one, we turned reflexively at the explosion of broken glass behind us. The ground trembled. People shouted, some running and screaming as they fled the area. The fire alarms went off in a cacophony of sound.

  Chapter 4

  “Fuck!” I urgently pulled Agent Connelly along, making him move and trying to keep him from tripping on all the people running around us. The acrid taste of dirt and fire filled my nostrils. We had to get out of here.

  He started moving before I said anything. The adrenaline must have hit his system. His weight lifted off my shoulders.

  We kept running, pummeling down the back alley, dodging dumpsters and feral cats, rather than take the main street. I wanted to escape the notice of official vehicles headed to the hotel as well as anyone who might be watching for us. I slowed to a walk two blocks away when I noticed he wasn’t keeping up.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” he bit out. “Nothing two weeks’ vacation at a spa won’t cure.”

  “You’ll do,” I laughed, relieved he felt well enough to make a joke.

  At the end of the second block, I turned and guided him to my car. He stubbornly walked on his own, but wore the telltale signs of pain and fatigue on his sickly white face. He wasn’t complaining, though. My admiration went up another notch.

  We ducked into my car and drove off. Silence filled the car for the first few minutes and I was grateful for the time to recoup my thoughts. Why were we targeted? It didn’t make sense for Andrea and our very well-armed friends to leave us alive then turn around and throw a grenade into the room, or set off a bomb or whatever had caused the explosion.

  Not to mention, if anyone saw us leaving, they would’ve known we wouldn’t be killed. What gives? I hated not knowing what I was getting into. Even with my stronger body and mind, I wasn’t invincible.

  “Where are we headed?” He finally broke the silence.

  “I don’t know. I’m driving and planning.” Trying to, anyway, but he didn’t need to know the state of my befuddled thoughts. “I don’t know anything about El Paso. You have any ideas? I’m all ears.”

  “I need to find a phone and check in with my office. Tell them you’re here. I can’t decide whether or not I need to report the kidnapping.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Without formal sanction, all of this gets much harder. If there’s a mole in the office, they can’t do anything until I’m officially missing. Since I’d taken a couple of personal days pending your arrival, I’m not due back until today.”

  “Why would they take you on your days off?”

  “I don’t think they meant to. Only one other person knew I was taking those days before I left the office. I was kidnapped on my way home. Since I live alone, there’s no one to report me missing unless I don’t check in today.”

  “Nice,” I said. “I bet you pissed off someone. They can’t say a word and all their careful planning backfired because you had a whim to take a few days to yourself.”

  He grinned at me and some color returned to his face. “Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?”

  My kind of man. “Pissing people off always makes my heart glow.” I glanced quickly his way and smiled. “Their mole isn’t likely to be your boss, or he could’ve called off the kidnapping. That is, if the intended result was to have you pulled from the case.”

  “You’re scary when you smile like that,” he said, approval lacing his voice. “What training have you had?”

  Surprised, I glanced over at him again, then shrugged. “Here, there. Mostly local people I hooked up with to learn what they knew. Some P.I. training I took to find out what a character had to go through for a book. I got my license, but I don’t think they took me seriously.” I shrugged again. Dumb luck and years of experience was how I learned most of my survival lessons, but telling him would lead to a lot of questions I had no intention of answering. Besides, those experiences were what made me seek out self-defense lessons. And I knew a lot from research for my books. The lessons, book smarts, and experience coalesced into something I couldn’t have envisioned two years ago.

  “Your strength of will and the ability to assess a situation and people are amazing from what I’ve seen. I can’t imagine how dangerous you’d be if you had formal training.” He shook his head then dropped the subject. Smart man. “Back to the problem. I agree with you. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure they intended to have me taken off the case. I need to find out why. And who.”

  “What’s the next step? This is way beyond my experience.” The private investigator training I’d taken purely for the learned skills for my book made a good cover if caught with weapons, but wasn’t enough to deal with a mole in the FBI.

  “I doubt it. You handled yourself like a pro back there.”

  “Damn it.” That wasn’t what I wanted to happen at all. If he leaked I was cool under fire and had bested an Infected, there was no telling the damage it would do. “Is there any way I can keep that information out of your official report?”

  “There’s not going to be an official report,” he said grimly. “Normally, I’d report, they’d pull me as lead, but keep me as consultant. I don’t think that’ll happen this time. There’s something underhanded about all of this, and I mean to get to the bottom of it. What if they wanted more than to get me off the case?”

  His question surprised me, yet I immediately knew what he meant. “Like fired?”

  “Yes, fired. I’ve been secretly searching for the mole. The director isn’t convinced there is one. I’m sure there is. What if I’m getting too close and they’ve decided to get rid of me in a non-sensational way?”

  “Like the explosion?”

  He waved his hand. “This group seems to enjoy the bloodshed. And mayhem, like the bomb back there. Why stop now?”

  I had an inkling of where his thoughts were headed, but wanted to hear him talk out the process for me.

  “The explosion didn’t happen until after we’d left the room. Probably clean up. Takes care of prints and any fibers they left behind for forensics. I don’t think they were trying to kill me. The death of an FBI agent would raise too many questions. Better for them to try a different route first. The explosion could easily be passed off as some other group.”

  I pondered this while driving, letting the car fill with silence again. After a while, I heard him mumble, “What the hell?” and he reached in his pocket for his cell phone. That worried me. They kidnapped him, bloodied him up, and then left him with everything—including his phone? No way. No fucking way. Nothing added up.

  Granted, I’d interrupted them, perhaps foiling some of their plans, but they’d been there for two days. Simple enough to slip his gun, badge, and phone into a pocket or purse. Spinning the scenarios gave me a bitch of a headache. Normally, the headaches were this bad only when exposed to the Infected for any length of time. Apparently, my body wanted to tell me it’d had enough for the day.

  I reached behind the front seat and rummaged in my pack. Joseph gave me a look and pointed to the road. I sighed in frustration and mouthed, “Headache.”

  He nodded and pulled my pack to his lap. Plastering his phone to his ear with his shoulder, he poked around in the pocket I’d been digging in. He came up with my bottle of Motrin.

  I popped them with some of the left over soda from McDonald’s and surreptitiously watch his features. His face remained somewhat swollen, especially around the eyes. Fully dressed, the only clue giving away his recent ordeal were the black eyes and minor cuts and abrasions along his cheek bones and what wasn’t covered by the collar and cuffs of his shirt.

  I wanted
to offer him some of my Motrin, but he knew about them now and could ask or get some if he needed or wanted them. I noticed the tension in his jaw, which made it difficult not to ask, “What?” while he talked on the phone. Driving aimlessly for a few more minutes wouldn’t kill me. But my curiosity might. I was so busy mocking myself, I didn’t notice he’d quit talking on the phone and taken it apart.

  “I’m not saying anything about my kidnapping and we have to go in to the Bureau. The person I talked to said all calls from me, to me, or regarding me were ordered rerouted to another number—two days ago.”

  Two days ago. I was incredulous. No way. I wasn’t buying. “That’s a little much for my bullshit meter,” I said mildly, not wanting any of his anger directed at me.

  “Mine too.”

  “I know the director didn’t set it up, so it had to come from one of two people. My regular partner is stuck on desk duty from injuries after a hit and run. In light of recent events, I’m beginning to think his accident wasn’t one at all. These people are ruthless and have no morals,” he said, hot anger lacing his voice.

  Despite knowing he wasn’t directing it at me, I flinched at his tone. Even while tied up and tortured, he hadn’t lost his cool. Now he looked ready to take someone out for what happened to his partner. I planned to stay on his good side.

  “What happened,” I asked quietly. “And give me directions to the local office so we can take care of that before I check in to a hotel somewhere.”

  He gave me the directions, and as I followed them, he explained what happened to his partner. “A month ago, my partner, David, was T-boned on his way to work. He left the Shell Station by the freeway after getting gas. Witnesses say a large black truck appeared out of nowhere and smashed the driver’s side of his sedan. The doctors said the side airbags, as well as the front air bags, saved his life.”

  The malice and forethought involved with planning to murder an FBI agent only peripherally involved stunned me. Killing someone in such a manner was risky at best. The accident would most likely permanently handicap them. I agreed with Joseph’s assessment.