But if he was guilty . . .
Ice crept down my spine. What would he do now that we’d uncovered his Saberton connection? Disappear? Bring a team to take us at the hotel? Why the hell didn’t I talk to the others about this first?
Hunching my shoulders against the chill, I turned and hurried back to the hotel.
Chapter 17
Naomi was lounging on the couch, the remote in one hand, when I made it back to the room. Though she flipped through channels, she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what was on the TV. The door to the bedroom was closed, and I figured that meant Philip was still asleep. Then again, I’d been gone less than half an hour. It hadn’t taken me long at all to stir shit up.
There was no point in dodging her any more. I dropped my jacket on a chair and moved between Naomi and the TV. “What’s the deal with Kyle?” I demanded, annoyed that I still heard a faint quaver in my voice.
She hit the Off button and sat up. “Which deal? What happened?”
“He works for Saberton, or he used to,” I told her. “I saw a personnel photo of him in Andrew’s apartment. And, when I asked him about it, he got real scary and quiet, then told me to go back to the hotel.”
Naomi stared at me as I spoke, but she didn’t look surprised. She shook her head when I finished, expression pained. “Is that why you wanted to go with him? You thought he might be doing something with Saberton?”
“Put yourself in my shoes, okay?” I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered. “I saw the Saberton picture, and then suddenly he wants to go scope out Saberton, so yeah, my suspicion-meter went off. And I didn’t have a chance to talk to anyone about it. You knew about this?”
“Yes, I knew. He’s not with them anymore.”
“Then what’s going on? Why did he get so weird when I asked him about it? He didn’t even try to deny it.”
Her pained expression deepened. “What did you ask him?”
“I asked him how was I to know he wasn’t the insider.” I jammed my hands into my jeans pockets.
“Shit.” Naomi slouched back and blew her breath out through her teeth. “Before Kyle was a zombie he was a field operative for my grandfather. Military and civilian espionage and operations. I don’t know the details, but I know he went through some crap from Rachel when he joined the Tribe.” She tugged a hand through her hair. “He’d done some mercenary-type work that set her against him, and she stirred up some other Tribe members.” She dropped her hand and sighed. “All I know is that it was a hard transition, and he had to prove himself every step. It’s why it was so easy for Rachel to believe the murder setup without Brian around to run interference. Old grievances die hard.”
“Was that when he became a zombie?” I moved to the other end of the couch and sat. “And why did he leave Saberton?”
“I shouldn’t even know that story,” she said, voice low, then gave me a faint grimace. “You know how you guys open up to me?”
I nodded slowly. Brian had described it as, “She’s really easy to open up to,” but even that didn’t quite cover it. It was more like, when you talked to Naomi, you sort of wanted to tell her stuff that bothered you, though for some unknown reason it only worked with zombies.
“He told me what happened, but I can’t repeat it.” She paused. “It’s not my story to tell, and I’m sorry if that sounds corny.”
“It’s cool. I’d be pissed if someone blabbed my private shit.” My shoulders slumped. “I must have struck a pretty big nerve for him to go off on his own.” Or struck the truth?
“Don’t worry about it. He’s a loner by nature. I’m sure he went on to check out Saberton.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Of course I do,” she replied with a frown.
“That’s good enough for me,” I said, lying only a teensy bit as the last shred of doubt hung on. “Between the Saberton connection and thinking about Brian, I had myself all worked up. I never in a million years would’ve thought Brian would fuck us over.”
She stared at me, then gripped my forearm so hard her fingernails dug in. “I wouldn’t have either. I knew him pretty well.”
“Ow!” I twisted free and rubbed my arm. “Sometimes people can fool you. No point in kicking yourself over it.”
Doubt shimmered in her eyes. “What if Kyle—?”
I shot to my feet. “Stop,” I ordered. “Naomi, let me be the asshole in this scenario, okay? I jumped to conclusions. Don’t listen to me.”
She managed a smile. “You’re right. I’m on edge with everything. I do know Kyle, and I know he’s not dealing with Saberton.” She reached for her jacket and pulled it on. “I need to get some air. I’ll see if I can spot Kyle and do my own bit of recon.”
She didn’t sound convinced. My chest felt tight as guilt wormed its way in. I’d spoiled something in their relationship, like the well-meaning friend who tells a woman her husband might be cheating on her. Whether it’s true or not, the doubt and worry and fear linger.
Still, I nodded. “Lemme know how it goes, okay?”
“Sure thing.” Naomi tucked away weapons then headed for the door. “Back later.”
The door closed behind her. I listened to her soft footsteps fade away, then let out a curse. Jane! I’d forgotten about the fundraiser during all of the crap with Kyle. I needed to get word to her to stay away from the event. I checked the time and groaned. Her cell number was in my phone in Louisiana, which meant I’d have to call her office to get in touch with her. No way to do that at this hour.
I put Jane on the mental to-do list for first thing in the morning, then went in to check on Philip. He still lay with his arm covering his eyes and didn’t move when I opened the door. In the light that spilled from the other room, I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest and heard the soft sound of his breath. Sleeping, finally.
After I eased out and closed the door, I pulled a chair up to the window in the main room, leaned my arms on the sill, and watched the city go by.
The click and whoosh of the main door startled me out of my mopey gazing, but when I caught Kyle’s reflection in the window rather than Naomi’s, I didn’t turn around. Most of me wanted to apologize for pouring salt into an old wound, but the rest of me still wondered. “Hey,” I said.
Kyle closed the door and said, “Angel,” in a flat way that acknowledged me without inviting chitchat.
“Naomi went looking for you.”
He stopped halfway between the door and me. “Why?”
“I told her I brought up the insider stuff,” I said, unsuccessful in my attempt to make out his expression in the reflection. “She was worried.”
“Worried,” he said, and a glimmer in the glass told me he’d bared his teeth. “You mean she doubted me enough to wonder if I was off having tea with the Sabers.”
“Shit. I dunno,” I said. “She didn’t say that.”
He stripped off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the chair on top of mine. “I know her. No other reason for her to go.”
I stood and turned to face him, folded my arms across my chest. “It was when I brought up Brian that did it. If he could turn, then—”
“Then maybe I could too,” he said in that same scarily emotionless voice he’d used in the sidestreet.
“But she knows you,” I insisted, “and never would’ve thought that, if I hadn’t brought it up.”
He shook his head. “If it hadn’t already been brewing with her, she wouldn’t have gone out.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and started texting, I assumed to tell Naomi he was back.
“Look, I’m still sorry I said anything to her,” I said. “And I’m sorry I came at you like that with nothing more than a picture.”
“A picture along with part of my name scrawled by Chris Peterson’s grave. I get it. It looks bad.” He picked up a pizza box from the table
and moved toward the sofa. “Apology accepted,” he said as he sat. “Wasn’t the first time I’ve been accused. And how do you know you aren’t right?”
“I guess I don’t, really,” I admitted, more than a little off-balance by his attitude. He wasn’t exactly doing backflips to clear his name. “But I know how much it sucks to have people always thinking the worst of you. I should’ve gotten more info before confronting you. It wasn’t fair.”
“Not much is, Angel,” he said. He placed the phone on the coffee table, then flipped the box open, held it out toward me. “It blindsided me. I overreacted.”
I snagged a slice of the ham, mushroom, and brains, then sat at the other end of the sofa, still uneasy. “Naomi told me you used to work for Richard Saber and that Rachel gave you shit when you joined the Tribe. But Naomi didn’t know the details.”
He settled the pizza box on the cushion between us and lifted his eyes to mine. “I killed Rachel’s father,” he said without hesitation.
It took me a moment for his words to register. “Oh,” I managed. I cleared my throat and put the slice of pizza back in the box. “Killed as in, accidentally in a car crash?” I asked, forever the optimist.
He shook his head. “I garroted him.”
“Oh.” I shrank back against the arm of the sofa. Whatever I’d expected when I started this conversation, this wasn’t it. No wonder Rachel had it in for him. If it’d been my dad, forgiveness wouldn’t be at the top of my list. “Why?”
He shifted, picked at a piece of ham. “Both of us were deep into black ops for different organizations,” Kyle said with slow weariness as though dragging the words out. “We clashed. He died.”
I kind of wished Philip would wake up. “Okay,” I said doing my best to keep my tone even. The way he said it, I doubted he’d provide details—which was fine with me since I didn’t really want any. I tried for a nice neutral change of subject. “How did you come to work for Pietro?”
Kyle went still and silent, his eyes on me like a cat watching a mouse. Suddenly, being anywhere but under his gaze seemed like a really good idea. I shot to my feet, about to blurt out that I really really needed to go to the bathroom. His eyes followed me, and he spoke in a voice so soft there was barely any breath behind it. “Why do you want to know, Angel?”
My throat tightened. Was everything a touchy subject with this guy? “I . . . I was curious,” I said, baffled. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply anything.” Not that I had any idea why I was apologizing or what I could have possibly implied. All I knew was that everything I said triggered this you-went-too-far scary reaction. I turned away. “Nevermind. I’m sorry I asked.”
“Angel,” Kyle said quietly.
“I swear, I wasn’t trying to start any shit.”
“Angel,” he repeated.
Out of nowhere, my vision got all blurry with tears. Totally embarrassed, I swiped at my eyes, keeping my back to him. “What?”
“Angel, please. It’s me, not you. I’m sorry.”
I pivoted to face him, utterly bewildered and out of my depth. The uncertainty and craziness of the day seemed to crush the breath out of me, and the tears spilled over for real. “I don’t understand anything, and I keep doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing, and I’m scared to death here.” I swept a frantic gesture toward the city beyond the window. “I’m slowing everyone down. Now I’ve stepped into shit again with you—”
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Kyle said, thankfully putting an end to my word vomit. “Here. Sit down.”
I sank back to the sofa and bit my quivering lower lip. Why was I such a weenie?
A faint smile played on Kyle’s mouth. “This is about me, not you, remember?” The smile faded as he drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Saberton and origins,” he said with a shake of his head. “Both hard topics for me.”
Wiping the tears away on my sleeve, I did my best to push down my own stupid insecurities. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business.”
“No, I don’t, and no, it’s not,” he said. He picked up a slice of pizza, took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “But things are different after these last couple of days. And since Brian . . .” As he said the name he hurled the slice of pizza back into the box. “He left. The fucker left. For Saberton.” His fist clenched, and he spat out the words, though his eyes reflected deep sadness.
“Yeah, it sucks. He fucked us all over. Why does that piss you off so extra much?”
Kyle remained quiet for an endless moment, then spoke softly, “He’s the one who turned me.”
That was not the answer I’d expected. “Oh,” I said as a delaying tactic while I tried to figure out a way to ask what happened without sounding super nosy. I gave up. “What happened?”
“I was dying,” he said, a new intensity in his voice. “So very close. And he turned me.”
“Um. That’s usually how it works,” I said. “Dying. Get turned. Become zombie. I’m sensing there’s more to the story.”
“You don’t always have to be dying,” he corrected with a shrug. “But I was. Saberton had about killed me with an experimental combat stimulant. It caused an aggressive lymphoma, and I was in the final stages.”
When he paused, I filled in, “And Brian saved you.” That didn’t sound like a bad thing to me. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”
Kyle’s shoulders curled forward, and he looked away. “I didn’t want to be saved, Angel,” he said, voice low and shaking with emotion.
“You mean you didn’t want to become a zombie.” I totally got that.
“No, I didn’t want to live at all.”
That slowed me down. “Then why did he turn you?”
“He was under orders to recruit me.”
Speechless, I could only stare as I processed his words.
“Angel,” Kyle said, his voice tight. “I’d waited my whole life to die.”
I licked dry lips and found my voice. “I don’t understand.”
He brought his eyes back to mine. “Nobody does. Nobody.” Sad emptiness filled his posture, his eyes, his words; thick and cloying, it sucked me closer.
“Kyle. Give me a chance to try, okay?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “Have you ever wanted to be dead?”
My gut clenched, and my fingers went cold. “Yeah,” I said, barely able to force the word out.
Kyle gave a little nod. “That was me as long as I can remember.”
I drew my legs up, wrapped my arms around them. “Why?”
He shook his head, eyes focused on nothing. “I never felt as if I belonged. Not anywhere. Not even in my own skin.” He leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees. “I was ten years old, dreaming about leaving.”
“And when you finally were,” I said slowly, “Brian took it away from you.”
“I’ve never been suicidal,” he told me. “There’s a difference between wanting to leave and being suicidal. I know it’s hard to see the difference, but—”
“No,” I said. “I get it.”
He let out a soft breath. “I was ready. I hated Dr. Kerazny for how it all came about, but I was more than ready to go. Everything was set.”
We sat in silence for a time as the full magnitude of the violation sank in. “Sonofabitch. He turned you against your will and put you to work.” I shivered.
“I tried to kill him during the process. Tried to kill myself.”
“But why did you come work for Pietro? I mean, shit. What he and Brian did to you was awful.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t have,” Kyle replied. “But once Mr. Ivanov understood enough, we spoke at length. He needed me, and I agree with his goals. I decided that if I had to stay on this goddamn planet, I didn’t mind working for someone at odds with Saberton.”
“You really do hate Saberton, don’t you?” The
level of emotion in his voice was impossible to fake.
“I hate what Saberton has become in the last decade, ever since Richard Saber teamed with Dr. Kerazny and set up the Dallas lab. Mr. Saber withdrew after that. A few months later the zombie intel came in from Naomi.” He met my eyes. “I brought in their first zombie test subject for the Dallas lab four years ago. A man from Portland.” He gave a sharp shake of his head as though to clear a bad memory. “Then came Mr. Saber’s battle with cancer and his sudden death.”
I processed that. “You think his cancer was related to the lab shit?”
“I don’t have proof of anything, Angel,” he replied.
“But you suspect it.”
He nodded.
“Thanks for being willing to share all that with me.”
His gaze drifted to the window. “Naomi doesn’t understand,” he said. “About me wanting to leave.”
“No,” I said after brief consideration. “She wouldn’t. She’s too into life and excitement and new experiences. She’s probably convinced that if you could see the world the way she does, you’d be all right.”
“Mr. Ivanov accepts it. Brian knows.” He ground his teeth. “Even though I could never forget what he did, he always had my back. We’d come to an understanding. Then he goes and turns traitor, just like that.”
I had a feeling the two had a strong tie despite the rocky surface. “We don’t know the whole story of what happened with Brian,” I said, though I had no idea why I was defending him in any way. “What he did to us sucks ass but, shit, maybe he was blackmailed or something. I don’t know.”
Kyle closed his eyes, dropped his head back against the sofa. “I’m so tired, Angel,” he said and it was as if life drained out of the space around him with each word. “He had my fucking back.”
That simple sentence defined so much. “This probably doesn’t mean much,” I offered hesitantly, “but I’ll have your back, if you want.” Crap, that sounded dumb coming from me. “I don’t have skills like you or Brian, but . . . I get it.”
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “It’s good to know you’ve got my back, Angel.”
How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back Page 19
