It sounded more like: you’re screwed.
“Thanks,” I mumbled again as I hurried to the door.
I couldn’t wait to get out of the apartment, but once I was in the hall I was only able to breathe a little bit easier. The box in my hands weighed me down, but not because of the food packed inside it. Because the gun resting on top of those meals was enough to get my ass shipped off to DC, only I had serious doubts that Jackson would let me leave this city. I had to get it home and hidden as soon as possible.
After stashing the gun in the back of my closet, I was too wound up to hang out at the apartment by myself, so I headed to Dragon’s. My shift wasn’t supposed to start for hours, but I didn’t want to be alone right now. Not after getting attacked last night and not after finding Jimmy’s body. Not only did I want to be around people I trusted not to hurt me, but I wanted to tell Donaghy what had happened. He knew all my secrets and I felt like we’d reached a point where we were closer than friends—even if I wasn’t exactly sure how to categorize our relationship.
The atmosphere in the bar was darker than usual, but I wasn’t sure why. Glitter was behind the counter, serving drinks in her skimpy little dress, but she was missing the usual bounce in her step. Dragon was nowhere to be seen and neither was Helen, although I could only assume she was still working her day job at the CDC. After what had happened today, I needed to make it a point to get to know the older waitress better. To find out if I could trust her, and what she might know—if anything—about my dad.
Donaghy was nowhere in sight, so I headed into the back room. The growl of the zombies made me freeze, but once my eyes adjusted I saw that there were only the normal two. No more bald creatures of the CDC’s making, and no little surprises for me. Thank God. Maybe Jackson had decided to admit defeat.
The room with the cots was quiet, and two of the beds empty. Donaghy’s guards had barely been clinging to life the day before, so I could only assume that they’d died sometime in the night or early this morning. Thankfully, their bodies were gone.
The fighter occupied the third cot. He sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees as he held his head in the palms of his hands. He didn’t move or look my way when I crossed the room to him, and every inch of him was tense. Something about his body language made my heart beat faster. Had he caught the flu? He looked okay. He wasn’t coughing and his skin was still bright with life. His face even looked pinker than usual.
“Donaghy?” I whispered as I moved across the room. “Are you okay?”
His gaze stayed glued to the floor. “Wonderful. My whole fucking life has fallen apart, but as long as you find your family it will all be worth it.”
The bitterness in his voice took me by surprise, and I found my legs unable to move closer to him. Not since I’d opened up to him about my family had he spoken to me with so much distance. His tone was cold. Detached. He sounded like the fighter I had first met, the one who kept everyone at arm’s length so he didn’t have to feel anything.
No. That wasn’t right. There was feeling in his voice, only it was hatred and pain. The warmth I’d felt in his arms just yesterday had vanished completely, leaving the room—and the fighter—feeling cold.
Something had happened.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I closed the distance between us, going against my better judgment.
His body was rigid before I started walking, but the closer I got, the more he tensed until he looked like he’d been carved out of stone. I knelt at his side, hesitantly touching his arm. His muscles flexed under my fingertips, making the tattoos that swirled around his biceps jump. His skin was warm, but not hot. He wasn’t sick, but something had happened.
“What is it?” I whispered. “What happened?”
“You.” The word was harsh and sharp, like a knife cutting into me. It sliced down my middle and penetrated my chest, slashing my already raw heart in half.
“Donaghy, I—”
He twisted to face me so fast that it knocked me on my ass, and the expression on his face made it impossible for me to regain my composure. I sat on the hard, dirty floor as he got to his feet, pushing past me. Pacing. His hands were on his head, massaging his skull like he wanted to crush it so he could forget. The pain was written across every inch of him.
“You did this. Spoiled. Selfish. It doesn’t matter if you destroy everyone around you as long as you find the people who matter to you. Who gives a fuck about the rest of the world when Megan James needs help?” He shook his head, his hands still on his skull when he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “And I fell for it. I let you bat your eyes and shake your ass in my direction and snare me in your trap. Like an idiot!”
“Donaghy, I don’t know—” My sobs made it impossible to talk, but I needed to. I needed to find out what had happened and why he was hurting, and tell him I was sorry and that I hadn’t meant to bring him down with me. “Please.”
It was the only word I could get out, and it was so distorted that I didn’t think he’d understand it, and when he reared toward me, his eyes blazing with anger and pain, I wasn’t sure if he had.
“Is that all you can say? Is that all you can do? Ask for help like a child? Why couldn’t you have taken care of yourself? Why couldn’t I have let you?”
His eyes landed on my face and he blinked. We stared at each other in total silence. The room around us got hotter by the second while the sobs that were threatening to break their way out tried to suffocate me.
Then, like magic, the anger melted away and the Donaghy I knew was back. His gaze moved over me, from my face to my scratched up arms and legs, and then he was in front of me. On his knees, his hands gentle as they moved up my arms.
“What happened? Oh my God, what happened?”
The tears I’d been trying to hold back broke through the dam and slid down my cheeks. “I was attacked. Last night. On the way home. I think Jackson sent the man. He said I brought it on myself. He had me down. My dress—” Donaghy pulled me against him, swearing under his breath. “The gray man saved me. Nothing happened. Nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened?” he said against my head. “Look at you. You’re covered in cuts.”
“But I’m okay.” I wiggled out of his arms even though it felt good to be comforted. Something much bigger had happened to him, and I needed to know what and why and how I could help him get through it. “What happened to you?”
Concern for me warred against the pain in his eyes. “Patty.”
His sister. Dear God. Was it possible that Jackson’s influence could reach all the way to Dayton? Could Jackson seeing Donaghy and me together have caused this?
“Is she…?”
Donaghy nodded, and a second later his face crumpled. His eyes filled with tears and he fell into my arms. The sobs that came out of him were so violent they nearly shook the whole room. It was like watching a building collapse, having this big man sobbing into my shoulder.
All I could do was hug him. Wrap my arms around him and hold his body against mine as he shook with grief and pain and disappointment. He cursed Jackson and the zombies, his stepfather and even himself. He screamed for justice. Swore that he’d avenge his sister. He sobbed like a child who had lost the only thing he’d ever loved.
By the time he was finished crying, my back was stiff from sitting on the floor and my legs had lost all feeling. Donaghy, the biggest and strongest person I’d ever known, pulled back and wiped his face with the back of his hand. I expected him to look ashamed, maybe not even be able to meet my gaze, but he looked me straight in the eye.
“I’m sorry for what I said. None of this is your fault, and I don’t blame you. I just needed someone to be mad at.”
“I know.” I took his face between my hands while shifting just a little, hoping to get the blood flowing in my legs. “It’s okay.”
He shook his head but didn’t speak, and neither did I. Words felt insignificant in the current situation. Like putting a B
and-Aid on an amputation…
“Jackson did this,” Donaghy finally said. He ran his hand up my arm to my cheek, his thumb moving over the small cut on my lip. It throbbed, but not enough for me to pull away. “He did this to both of us. He was here. He came to tell me that my sister was dead, and he said something about you. I didn’t get it at the time, but now I know.”
“He isn’t going to stop until we’re dead, is he?”
Donaghy shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“At least you’re leaving soon. Maybe then you’ll be safe.” Even thinking the words felt like I was betraying myself, because I didn’t want Donaghy to go. Saying them out loud, though, felt like they would crush me.
His eyes went to the empty cots on the other side of the room, and he shook his head. “I don’t know what they’ll do with me now. My guards are dead, so there’s no one to take me to Key West. I think I’m stuck here for the time being.”
A shiver went down my spine. I thought about Mike, the black market runner who was dead, and the silence that had surrounded me in the shantytown. And Jimmy.
“I found Jimmy’s body today,” I said, turning my gaze back to Donaghy. “While I was working on maintenance duty.”
“Jimmy?” He shook his head, but the movement was slow and the confusion in his eyes probably had more to do with the fact that his thoughts were still on his sister.
“The blond guy from my crew.”
“The big dumb one.” Donaghy’s head bobbed. “That’s right. So he’s dead?”
“And Matt is missing. Ticker was hiding in shantytown, but I found him today and told him about Jimmy. He’s getting out. Paying a zombie slayer to smuggle him out of the city.”
Donaghy let out a deep breath, then got to his feet, pulling me with him as he settled onto the cot. Even though it wasn’t very soft, it was a relief to not be on the hard, stone floor anymore. One side of my ass had gone numb, so I shifted my position in hopes of getting the blood flowing. Pins and needles moved down my thigh to my leg as the circulation returned.
“Hopefully, it works or Ticker will soon be joining his friends,” Donaghy said. “Along with a lot of other people. The city is infected. People are dying left and right. Helen said the CDC has been so busy that it’s hard to keep up.”
“That’s another thing. How well have you gotten to know Helen since you’ve been here? I need someone on the inside. Someone who works at the CDC. But I’m not sure who to trust and I don’t know Helen all that well.”
“I think—” He glanced toward the door like he wanted to make sure no one was listening in on us, but we were alone. “I think you can trust Helen and Dragon with anything you might need. They know something about all this, Meg. What, I’m not sure. But they are involved somehow.”
He paused, my hand held in his as he thought something through. Something about the expression on his face made my hand tighten around his.
“There was a man here,” Donaghy finally said, lowering his voice even though no one was around to hear his words, “yesterday morning before they brought that zombie in. He had wild gray hair and a beard. He and Dragon were talking about stuff I didn’t totally understand, but your dad’s name came up.”
My heart jumped. Could it have been the gray man? Did he really know where to find my dad? “What did they say about him?”
“The man with the gray hair said he wanted some people out—out where or who those people are, I don’t know—but Dragon asked him if he’d be willing to leave Axl behind.” My hand tightened around Donaghy’s even more, but he didn’t flinch. “The gray man said he knew Axl would want to be left behind if it meant keeping everyone else safe.”
“They’re talking about the CDC.” I lowered my voice and moved closer to Donaghy, taking a quick look around to make sure we were still alone. “He’s there. I know he is.”
“I think you may be right.”
The only question now was: What were we supposed to do about it?
Silence fell over us as we mulled over the events of the day. He was stuck here, at least for the time being, which should buy us some time. If we could get Dad out, then we might not have to say goodbye.
“We could leave,” I said, turning to face Donaghy. “If we can get my Dad out, we can leave just like Ticker. Find a zombie slayer and pay him to smuggle us out.”
I thought about Luke and the man who had been with him on my first day working in the bar—Jim. Maybe he’d be willing to help.
“I’m a convict,” Donaghy said.
“I don’t care, and if we can get far enough away from the city, they won’t be able to find us. We can start over. People do it. Live in unsanctioned areas.”
“Dragon said something about an unsanctioned town this morning, right before Jackson came and told me about Patty.” Donaghy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think he has a place in mind.”
“And you say we can trust him?”
“I think so.”
“Then we need to make this happen. We need to talk to him about it, and we need to figure out how to get Dad out of the CDC.”
“Tonight,” Donaghy agreed. “We’ll talk to Dragon and Helen tonight after the fight.”
“Okay.”
I gave his hand another squeeze as hope swirled through me. Suddenly, it felt like the pieces of the puzzle I’d been working on were finally making sense. The picture wasn’t whole yet, but I was getting there. Making progress. We were on the right track.
“You sure you’re okay?” Donaghy asked, reaching out to touch my face.
I tried not to wince when his fingers brushed the small cut on my cheek, but the gesture caught me by surprise and I jerked away before I could stop myself.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, just as I replied, “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Donaghy shook his head. “If the gray man hadn’t shown up, you would have been in real trouble. I feel like I should have been there.”
“How?” I asked, shaking my head even though his words caused a warm glow to move through me. “You have no control over Jackson, and it’s not like you’re free to roam the settlement. This was beyond your control.” I took a deep breath when the truth of what I was about to say hit me hard. “Plus, you might not always be here to save me.”
Donaghy’s mouth turned down and sadness filled his blue eyes. He touched my face again, his thumb running down my cheek in a gesture that was so gentle it didn’t even sting. “I want to be.”
“I know.” We’d never been this forthcoming with one another before, and it was scary, but I wanted to be honest. “I want you to be here too, I just don’t know what’s going to happen.”
My gaze moved over him, past his cool blue eyes and down his chiseled features to the little scar on his chin. A memory clawed its way to the surface of my brain, slow and fuzzy, coming into focus a little at a time. I had a dream last night. About that scar. Or, more accurately, about a man who had a scar in the same place. There were moments in the dream when the person was Dad, and other times when it was Donaghy. The two seemed to have been interchangeable in my brain, making it hard to know who was who. But I did know this: we’d been running from something, and in my dream I knew that all I needed to do was stay close to the man with the scar. That he would keep me safe.
When I ran my fingertip down the scar, Donaghy’s stubble was rough against my skin. “How did you get this?”
“When I was little, before this whole mess even started. I fell off a playground and cut my chin. My mom had to rush me to the emergency room.” The corner of his mouth pulled up. “I had to get ten stitches.”
“So long ago,” I whispered, tracing my way back up.
I didn’t stop when I reached the top of the scar, though, but instead traced Donaghy’s bottom lip. His eyes searched mine, the wanting in them speaking volumes.
I hiked up my skirt and scooted over, climbing on his lap so I was straddling him. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he moved hands up my le
gs to my thighs, then to my back. I leaned forward and he met me halfway, his mouth covering mine as he pulled me against him until my chest was flush with his, our hearts beating together as we kissed.
I ran my hands down Donaghy’s arms, then back up, feeling the hard bulge of his muscles as he caressed my back. He was wearing a shirt, which was a rare thing for him, and I wanted it gone. I dragged my fingernails down his chest, and he broke away when I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. His lips were back on mine before I’d even had a chance to toss the shirt aside.
His lips moved faster over mine, and it only took seconds for him to shift flip me over so I was on my back, lying on the cot. Then Donaghy was above me, his body pressed against mine in a perfectly pleasurable way as we kissed. Fingers traced their way up my leg to my thigh and moved under my skirt. I shifted, trying to give him access to my body, but he didn’t take it any further. All he did was kiss me. Slow, sweet caresses that were broken every so often by fiery desperation when his tongue swept over mine. All the while his hand moved up my thigh, then back down, and his body rocked against mine as the fire inside me grew until I felt like I was going to burst into flames.
“Donaghy,” I gasped when his mouth left mine for the first time. My battered lips were sore from last night’s attack, coupled with the passionate assault Donaghy was in the process of giving them.
He trailed kisses down my neck to my chest, following the deep V of my neckline. His hands had migrated up to my ribcage, his fingertips brushing the underside of my breasts. There they stayed, splayed out teasingly. So close, but not moving up any further as he ran his tongue over my exposed skin, never once taking the opportunity to move the fabric of my dress aside so he could have more of me.
“Donaghy,” I gasped again when he didn’t answer. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“I know,” was his only response as his lips moved back up my body. Kissing every inch of my bare skin, his teeth nipping at my collarbone and his tongue tracing my lips before his mouth once again attacked mine.
Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella Page 30
