How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back

by Diana Rowland

  “Look bored and a little annoyed,” Naomi said from a few feet away, startling me. I hadn’t even noticed her there. She was tapping away at her phone and looking like a hipster chick with plenty of disdain for the gowned crowd.

  Bored and annoyed. I could do that. Easy enough to turn my nervous jitters into annoyed foot-tapping.

  “I’m up,” Naomi murmured, then stuck earbuds into her ears, turned, and walked toward the arriving guests. I tried hard not to be obvious about watching her, but I couldn’t resist. If I hadn’t been paying fairly close attention I’d have never seen it. Naomi, with her eyes on her phone, bumped into a tall blond woman in a skintight dress. Surprise and apologies, and as Naomi backed away she bumped into a man, then turned and stumbled into the woman again. More apologies, followed by Naomi continuing on her way down the street headed away from me.

  The whole incident took barely five seconds. The man she’d bumped into continued my way in an unhurried pace. Kyle, I abruptly realized. When he reached me he slipped a stiff postcard-sized piece of embossed paper into my hand.

  “Hurry and get inside before Miss Chastity Turner discovers she has a menu for Chinese takeout in her purse,” he murmured and continued walking as if he hadn’t paused at all.

  I quickly headed to the entrance then followed other guests across the lobby and to a set of double doors. Once there, I gave the security guard who checked my invitation a smile that I hoped didn’t look too manic, passed through the metal detector, then slipped into the crowd even as I heard a woman’s strident voice behind me, insisting that she was Chastity Turner, and she shouldn’t even have to show an invitation because didn’t the guard know who she was?

  Couldn’t be all that special since I had no idea who she was.

  Hundreds of people milled and chatted in a gold-wallpapered room about the size of a basketball court while servers in starched white shirts and black ties passed through the crowd with trays of weird-looking bite-sized things and tall, skinny glasses of champagne. I took some champagne and pretended to sip as I mingled and searched. Soft classical music flowed over the crowd and through the hum of polite conversation. Huge posters covered with images of missing children lined the wall near the entrance to the main ballroom, and a sign with “Child Find League” in gold letters hung over the door. It wouldn’t be long until the guests abandoned the reception area and headed into the ballroom to eat and listen to boring speeches, and once that happened any chance I had to pull Jane aside and get her out of there would be gone.

  I kept a smile on my face and my mouth shut as I clutched my champagne glass and wound my way through the crowd. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself by saying or doing the totally wrong thing, and I had no doubt my accent would stick out like a sore thumb.

  Finally, I spied her listening to a stick-thin man with untidy grey hair, an interested look on her face as he intently explained something that must have mattered a great deal to him, judging by his intense and excited expression. She looked fantastic as usual, in an elegant sleeveless black gown with a subtle drape of fabric on the right hip. Fighting the urge to bull right on over and drag her out by brute force, I instead did my best oh-so-casual saunter to get behind her conversation partner and into her line of sight. Once there, I gave a small wave to get her attention. She flicked a glance my way, smiled politely and then returned her attention to the man. Crap. She didn’t recognize me now that I looked like a respectable human being.

  I edged forward a bit more, then gave a bright smile. “Dr. Pennington!” I chirped, focusing hard on not sounding as if I’d just left the farm. “It’s so good to see you again!”

  This time her head snapped around. Her eyes widened in shocked recognition, but she recovered quickly and looked back to the thin man “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Without waiting for a response, she disengaged from him then took my arm to steer me away. “My goodness, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

  “Yeah, well, I kind of had no choice,” I replied. Shifting my body to block the view of anyone looking our way, I pulled my phone from my purse and brought up the picture of the invitation with her name on it. “Don’t ask me how I got this, please, but there’s a lot of shit going on, and I’m really worried about you.”

  Her forehead creased as she looked down at the picture. “But why would any of it put me in danger? Angel, why on earth are you in New York? And have you been in a fight? It looks as if your jaw is bruised.”

  My hand flew to my face. No no no. Shit! It wasn’t a bruise. I clearly felt the weird and spongy texture of pre-rot. On my face. I pushed down my horror as much as possible. “No, I slipped on some stairs, that’s all,” I said, then bulled ahead to get her attention off my jaw. “Have you tried to get in touch with Pietro in the past couple of days?”

  “Yes,” she said, apparently accepting my lie, at least for the moment. “His assistant told me he was tied up with an unexpected business trip to Italy.”

  I shook my head. “No, he’s in trouble, and this,” I tapped the image on my phone, “makes me think you might be as well.”

  Alarm flashed through her eyes, but she quickly masked it. “What kind of trouble? Where is he?”

  “It’s really hard to explain,” I said, all too aware how weak that sounded, “but it’s why I’m in New York.” I took a deep breath and set my mouth in a stubborn line. “Look, I’m not going to budge from your side until I make sure you get out of here safely with your own security guy.”

  She tried to hide her worry, but it showed in the creasing of her forehead. “Victor is right over there,” she said with a slight nod to her left. I glanced over to see a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit looming silently not far away, his eyes hard upon me. “I need to meet with the Sabers, and then I can leave,” she continued. “I can excuse myself with a migraine.”

  I shot a hand out to grip her arm. “No, don’t meet with the Sabers!” Victor took a step forward, and I quickly released her. “Or if you do, don’t go anywhere private with them.”

  Jane blinked at me, then frowned. “Angel, I’m going to trust you on this,” she said slowly. “That you’re in New York at all tells me there’s something serious afoot. I’ll have Victor with me while I see them here, in this room, and then I will leave.” She fixed me with a hard look. “And then you will tell me exactly what is going on and what happened to Pietro.”

  “Yeah, sure thing!” I said, totally lying. Hell, right now I’d promise my soul to the devil if it would get her out of this place safely.

  I wasn’t sure if she believed me, but at least she didn’t protest. She gestured Victor over. “I’ll see you outside then?” she asked me.

  “All I want is to be sure you’re safe,” I said, not directly answering the question.

  Jane simply nodded. “I’ll be out in five minutes.” She gave Victor a smile as he reached her side, murmured to him that she had a headache and would be leaving soon. It was clear he understood it was fiction, but he simply nodded, pulled out a phone, and called for the driver to bring the car around.

  I slouched in relief as Jane moved off, and let my gaze drift around to the rest of the event. People were beginning to filter into the ballroom where I could see tables laid out with expensive-looking china and crystal, and decorated with gorgeous centerpieces of white flowers. Jane moved through the crowd with ease to where a tall and stylish blue-eyed woman with honey-blond hair stood with a younger broad-shouldered man. He had the same blue eyes and honey-blond hair as his mother. Nicole and Andrew Saber, both talking to a man with his back to me. Nicole wore an off-the-shoulder, dark red gown with a beaded top and a flowing silky skirt. Andrew wore a tux that sure as hell wasn’t a rental.

  Edging slightly closer, I heard Jane greet Nicole warmly, then watched as Jane gave a slight wince and put a hand to her temple, apologized for a headache and her need to leave soon. Damn, but she was
smooth. My admiration for her grew.

  Jane shifted her attention to the other man with them, and the surprise in her expression gave me only a whisper of warning before he turned and swept his gaze my way.

  Brian. I froze, and my gut gave a horrible lurch. Brian, standing here dressed in a goddamn tuxedo, talking to the Sabers as if they were old friends.

  His eyes rested on me briefly, narrowed, and then he continued his casual look-around as if he hadn’t seen me, while my pulse raced like an Olympic sprinter. Was he going to sell me out to the Sabers? Or did he simply figure this was too public a place to take me down? Either way, I knew the risk for Jane had abruptly shot up.

  “Congresswoman Pennington,” I heard him say. “It’s a pleasure to see you, as always.”

  “Mr. Archer,” Jane replied. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Is Pietro here as well?”

  “No, ma’am, he’s not,” Brian said. “I’m up here on my own.”

  Nicole looked from Brian to Jane. “Pietro Ivanov?” She tilted her head, smiled. “Oh, yes, I remember seeing something about you two dating. What a shame he couldn’t be here. The chef they brought in for this event is outstanding.”

  Jane looked as if she wanted to press Brian for details about what was going on, but she simply gave Nicole a bland smile. “Yes, we’ve been dating for a while. Don’t you remember? We ran into you at the Gourmet Gala in Louisiana.” Then she lifted a hand and made a dismissive gesture. “But I can understand if it slipped your mind. I’m sure you have far more pressing worries than remembering the details of a random congresswoman’s social life.” Jane’s smile remained fixed and her eyes hard on the other woman. The “worries” was no doubt a reference to Saberton’s money troubles. It was clear Jane didn’t care for Nicole Saber one stinking bit.

  Nicole’s hand tightened on her champagne glass. “Yes, the Gala. How could I have forgotten something so unforgettable.” She jerked her attention to where her son stood silently watching the exchange. “Andrew, finish with Mr. Archer while I have a word with the congresswoman.”

  Jane’s bodyguard stood a few feet behind her. I quickly moved to him, angling as best I could to be on the side away from Brian and the Sabers. “You need to get her out of here,” I told him in a low, urgent voice. “Please, trust me.”

  Victor glanced at me and frowned, but to my relief he didn’t question or protest before moving to Jane’s side and touching her arm.

  “The car is out front, ma’am,” he said. “You should probably leave before your headache grows worse.”

  She met Victor’s eyes, then looked past him to me. I gave her my best Gah! Shit! You need to get the hell out of here ’cause there’s danger! look—but in a calm and socially acceptable way, of course.

  “Thank you,” she murmured to Victor. “Yes, I should be going.” She returned her attention to Nicole. “I’m so sorry, but I’m simply not feeling well at all.”

  Nicole darted a look toward Andrew and Brian, and gave Jane a smileless smile. “Certainly,” she said stiffly, clearly not at all happy to let Jane go but unable to physically stop her. “You take care of yourself. Perhaps we can do lunch tomorrow?”

  “Perhaps,” Jane echoed. “Have your people call mine. Have a good evening.” And with that she turned away to allow Victor to guide her to the exit while I quietly died of relief.

  Jane paused by me, leaning close and lowering her voice. “I expect you to explain all of this as soon as we’re outside.”

  “Yeah, you got it,” I said with a firm nod, though my attention remained on Brian. He was watching me again, but at the moment I’d take that as a good thing since it meant he wasn’t going after Jane. I tore my gaze away from Brian long enough to check and see that yes, Jane was at the double doors and leaving, then allowed myself a brief sigh of relief. Now I simply had to get myself out of this mess.

  Chapter 20

  I felt Brian’s eyes on me like a knife sliding through flesh. He was obviously up to some shit with the Sabers, but I had zero desire to stick around and confront him. Yet at the moment he was between me and the doors, which meant I needed to find another way out.

  The crowd had abruptly grown thick as everyone began working their way toward the ballroom—where I most certainly did not want to go. Gut tight, I turned and started swimming upstream through a river of overdressed people in the direction of a side door. Someone stepped on my toe, and I resisted the urge to drive an elbow into their ribs to get them off me. I settled for their hasty apology, quickly lost in the chatter and music as I slipped between bodies, grateful I was slim, and even more glad I was short enough to get lost in the crowd.

  Didn’t matter, as a glance behind showed Brian heading my direction. He didn’t seem to have any problem getting people out of his way without making a scene. I tripped on the hem of my skirt, seized it up while cursing the stupid heels and barely avoided crashing into a tittering woman. I finally made it to the side door and burst through it, then had to stop for a second to get my bearings and figure out where the hell I was.

  Restrooms. And down at the end of the hall was a sweet and glorious EXIT sign. I still couldn’t run without attracting a bunch of attention, and I certainly didn’t want to risk being stopped by security, but I did a goddamn Olympic speed walk in my pretty, sparkly shoes toward that sign.

  Less than ten feet from the exit I heard a door open behind me, accompanied by a brief outpouring of music along with voices and polite laughter. A quick glance back as I hit the bar of the exit door confirmed it was Brian, and right before I slammed the door behind me I saw him start my way. A quick look around told me I was on the deserted sidestreet near the sewer worksite I’d seen earlier, and nowhere near where I was supposed to come out, which meant that none of my people were anywhere around. I knew I only had seconds before Brian caught up with me, and I used two to kick off the shoes then pelted barefoot toward the main street.

  The sound of the door echoed along the buildings. “Angel!”

  Shit! I tried to pour on the speed and instead got my legs tangled in my skirts. To my horror I went sprawling, scraping palms and knees as I slid a few inches in some nasty gunk on the pavement. I was like one of those stupid teenagers in a slasher movie, with extra grossness.

  Before I could scramble to my feet Brian was on me, literally, with a knee in the middle of my back, pinning me down firmly as I twisted and struggled.

  “Angel, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, voice urgent but low. “Don’t run away from me. We need to talk but first we need to get away from here.”

  “Get off me!” I snarled as I fought to get out from under him, which only served to grind the yuck more thoroughly into the dress. “I swear to god, I will scream bloody murder.”

  “Angel, stop! I’m trying to get Mr. Ivanov back, and I know you are too.”

  I twisted my head to glare at him. “You’re fucking up the dress! And I saw you being all friendly with the Sabers here, just like I saw you kidnap Dr. Nikas. I watched the video!”

  Shifting off me, he seized my upper arm and pulled me to my feet. “I was trying to determine if the Sabers would work a deal to release Mr. Ivanov,” he said, maintaining an iron grip as he slapped my purse into my hand. “And, yes, I kidnapped Dr. Nikas. It was that or risk Saberton abducting him as well. He wouldn’t get into the car, and I couldn’t let him stay.”

  “How did you know he was at risk?” I snarled. Maybe I could bite him and make him behave the way I made Philip behave? Desperate, I lunged at him, teeth bared.

  “Jesus Christ, Angel!” Brian growled as he evaded my bite, then twisted my arm up behind my back. “Would you stop?” He glanced back over his shoulder at the door we’d exited from. “I knew he was at risk because ten minutes earlier I defused a bomb under my Escalade, then tried to call Mr. Ivanov and got only voicemail.”

  I stopped struggling, bit my lip har
d to try and stop the damn tears of frustration, but I felt a couple sneak their way down my cheek. How did all this get so fucked up? “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked, voice quavering.

  He began walking me toward the main street while he continued to shoot wary looks behind us. “No one to tell. No one to trust. There’s an unknown insider. At least one. And you need to get away from here.”

  “You couldn’t even trust me?” The hurt in my voice wasn’t faked one bit.

  He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said still moving toward the street. “With Dr. Nikas in my care, I couldn’t risk contact with anyone.” He glanced behind him again. “Who’s here with you?”

  I set my mouth stubbornly. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  The sound of the door echoed off buildings again, followed by running footsteps. Brian released my arm and gave me a little shove. “Angel, run. Now!” He turned and sprinted to a building across the street, leaped up to catch the fire escape ladder, pulled up and began climbing. I didn’t waste time watching him. I saw the men pelting my way. I grabbed my grimy skirts and ran.

  Kyle was leaning against the building about fifty feet away from the corner, but he pushed off and immediately scanned for threats the instant he saw me running toward him.

  “We need to get out of here!” I gasped.

  “Slow down,” he ordered in a low voice. “Look normal and walk.” He took my arm casually, though we continued to walk with purpose. My pulse gradually returned to a more normal pace. There were a lot of people on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, and I doubted Saberton’s goons would try and grab me in public. Plus, Kyle would totally kick their asses.

  “I had to lose the shoes,” I said through a clenched-teeth smile. Not sure how normal I was able to look with a grunged-up dress and no shoes. And my makeup was probably smeared to hell and back. Oh, and the weird blotch on my face.