by Beverly Rae
“Jenn, you’d better take care of this thing before someone gets eaten and I end up in the hands of the Otherworld.” Partner’s cowboy accent was gone, replaced by an irritated, slightly frightened tone.
“Wha’dya think I’m trying to do?” Keeping one eye on the approaching zombie, I searched the area around me, hoping to find an axe or hoe of some kind. “Hey, maggot-face. Your skin’s looking pretty dry. Maybe you should get some heavy-duty lotion.” I feigned a dramatic gasp. “Are those wrinkles I see?”
“Ooh, me-ow. Good one, Jenn.”
Her unworldly cackle raised the hairs on my arms. “Before you die, you’re going to tell me where the Bracelet is. Then I’ll break your gadget into a million pieces and see you in Hades.”
“Hopefully, in that order, right?” Partner’s voice pitched a little higher.
Her demand told me two important facts. First, the Otherworld didn’t have the Bracelet. Secondly, they thought I knew where it was. But why? Hadn’t they heard it’d been stolen from the Society? Why would they think I knew where it was? I’d been on my honeymoon at the time of the robbery.
I shook my head and edged toward a shovel leaning against the wall. “Uh, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not much on traveling, although I’d love to send your evil tight-ass back to Hell.” My hands closed over the handle of the shovel at the same moment I heard Ryan.
“Judy? How’s the basement look?” He had his head down, watching his steps as he descended the stairs. “Is it big enough to convert to a mother-in-law suite? I’m sure my mom would love to visit us in the—”
His gaze fell on his wife and his words died a quick death. Confusion, then horror, spread over his features. Watching his gaze travel from her face to her familiar clothes, then to her face again, I knew he was desperately trying to find a safe harbor on Denial Island. His boat, however, sank.
Zombie Judy screamed at him, spitting bits of phlegm in her rage. Yet even zombies can figure out who is the greater threat. Ignoring her nearly comatose hubby, she whirled toward me. I swung the shovel, striking the edge against the side of her neck. Thanks to the dedication of the homeowner in keeping his tools sharp, the shovel sliced through her skin and bones, decapitating her in one swift move. Zombie Judy’s head flew off her body and thudded against the floor. A gargling sound accompanied the flood of bile spilling out the open end of her neck and onto her shoulders. Still screeching, the head rolled to the foot of the stairs. “Ryan, you asshole!”
Ryan shrieked at the talking severed head, his hands outstretched as if to ward off the gruesome sight his mind couldn’t grasp. He must’ve shrieked for five minutes─at least two minutes longer than was necessary. Without warning, his body seemed to fold in on itself, slumping to a sitting position on a step and silencing the dreadful wailing. His glassy eyes locked onto his wife’s head, but I knew he wouldn’t have to stare at her for long. With one last screech, Judy’s head and body exploded, sending zombie dust into the air. Gray zombie bits settled on his clothes and face, but Ryan didn’t move an inch. The man was out of it.
I threw down the shovel and eased my way over to sit beside Ryan. “Mr. Wallis? Ryan?” Getting no response, I went for reinforcements. “Partner, send for the Psych Squad fast. I don’t want Bellamy showing up to find a prospective buyer in a catatonic state. I mean, the house isn’t great, but it’s not bad enough to drive a buyer into shock.”
“Oh, ha-ha, Jenn. Funny. Not. And I already called them. They should be here in a few minutes.” Partner clicked and beeped in an excited electronic way. “Hoo-wee, what a fight. Does this happen to you a lot, darlin’?”
I slid him out of my pocket to check out his screen. Sure enough, the hunky cowboy was jumping up and down in glee. “Partner, most cowboys don’t jump up and down like an overly spirited cheerleader. And yeah, these things happen, although I try to use my head more than my fists in defeating the scum of the world.”
“Anyone down there?”
I looked up to where three people blocked the doorway. I assumed—okay, hoped—they were the Society’s Psych Squad and not another group of lookie-loos. “Yeah. You guys are quick. Providing you’re who I’m waiting for.”
Without changing his dour expression, the bigger guy reached into his pocket and flashed a Society badge. “You can check with the main office first if you’d rather. I’m Agent Dumsy.” He gestured at the man and woman behind him. “This is Agent Jones and Agent Tranton.”
I smiled and nodded at them. Agents were Protectors who’d undergone a traumatic experience, rendering them “unreliable” in the field. As such, they were often very sensitive to any perceived slights from their fellow Protectors who remained on active duty. After the mistakes I’d made, I was lucky I hadn’t been kicked down to agent status.
The other two agents nodded their greeting, but kept silent. Any other time, I probably would’ve checked their identities, but I was worried about Bellamy showing up at the wrong time. “Nope. You guys look good to me.”
The two men moved toward Ryan, followed by Agent Tranton, who carried a metal briefcase.
I stepped aside to give them access to the shocked man. “Unfortunately, he saw his zombie wife go up in dust.”
Agent Dumsy eyed me up and down. “Did you ever think about exterminating her where he couldn’t see?”
What a jerk! I shot him the same condescending smirk in return. The jerk had obviously screwed up enough to get demoted and here he had the nerve to criticize me. “I didn’t have time to choose the setting. She came at me and caught me off guard.” Off guard was putting it lightly. She’d caught me totally unprepared even after my alarms bells had started ringing. I hadn’t trusted my instincts and it had almost cost me my life.
He harumphed and glanced around the basement. “Did you two fight anywhere else in the house?”
I really didn’t like this guy. “Nope, we kind of liked hanging out in the basement. You know, just us girls exchanging laundry tips.” Ignoring his sneer, I gestured toward the pile of dust on the floor. “This shouldn’t take much cleanup. Ryan’s mainly the reason I called you. This is Ryan Wallis and his zombie wife’s name was Judy. They are, er, were house-hunting newlyweds after a whirlwind romance.”
Agent Tranton popped open her case and began taking photos of Ryan, the basement and the pile of Judy, er, dust. “Good. The shorter the time they’ve been together, the easier it is to cover our tracks. But ya gotta wonder. How does a man not realize his wife is a zombie? She’s got to have given him clues along the way. Clues and catching her out of her human form.”
Agent Jones snorted. “I’ll say. What kind of dumb-ass marries an Otherworlder and doesn’t realize it? I mean, how stupid is this guy?”
Something inside me wanted to smack Jones upside the head. Ryan may not have been the brightest guy on the block, especially since he didn’t know he’d married a zombie, but he deserved more respect than this. After all, the average man and woman of this world had no clue zombies existed. By the time I’d thought of the appropriate reprimand, however, they were all business.
“This should be fairly routine.” Agent Jones passed me to squat next to the dust pile. After retrieving a test tube from his pocket, he scooped up some dust and recapped the tube. “We’ll reconstruct his wife with this DNA—sans the zombie chromosomes, of course.”
I paced to the side of the basement to get out of their way. I’d seen this situation all too often, yet I couldn’t help but think of how Ryan’s life had changed. Whenever a civilian witnessed an extermination, the Society would send them into reprogramming where all knowledge of the Society and the event would be wiped from their memory. Usually, it was an uncomplicated procedure. However, when a civilian witnessed the death of someone involved in his own life, the procedure got sticky. The Society had to replace the missing person without anyone noticing the switch.
“Be sure you get it right this time.” Usually it wasn’t a smart idea to tell the Psych Squad how to do their job—co
nsidering their easily bruised egos—but I wanted to make certain Ryan’s new wife would be perfect. “The last clone you placed in a civilian’s life went berserk and ended up killing the family’s grandmother. Now we’ve got a clone inside a prison making license plates for life.”
All three agents stopped their work to glare at me. But it was Agent Dumsy who snarled a response. “One lousy time. We get one wrong one frickin’ time and you Protectors won’t let it go.”
I held up my hands in supplication. “Whoa. Sorry. I didn’t mean to push your button. It’s just, well, Ryan seems like a nice guy. In fact, maybe you could do him one better and make his new wife less demanding and selfish.”
“We’ll see what we can do.” Agent Tranton finished with taking photos and held a small needle in front of Ryan’s eyes. After one quick injection between his eyes, she pocketed the device. “Come on, Ryan. We’re going to take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
Agent Tranton glanced at me and I was pretty sure she’d meant the remark for both Ryan and me. “Thanks.” She and I shared another look. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
“No problem.” She started up the stairs with Ryan moving mechanically by her side. After shooting me a disgruntled sneer, Agent Dumsy motioned for Agent Jones to follow.
“Hey, Jennifer.”
I glanced past the agents and saw Roger Bellamy at the top of the steps. “Oh, hi, Roger.”
He stepped aside to let the agents and Ryan make it to the top and turn to head down the hallway. “I’m sorry I’m late, but traffic was a bitch. Were those potential buyers? Do you think they’ll buy?”
I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, you bet. I sold the house to a lovely man and his zombie wife. Yeah, right.
He Loves Me for My Mind. Really!
“Blake!”
My husband grabbed me from behind and tossed me on top of the dining table, sending me into giggles.
“I’m hungry, woman!” Baring his teeth like some demented caveman—the real kind, not the Geico kind—Blake tore open my shirt and lightly bit my abdomen with his teeth. I tried, unsuccessfully, to stop laughing.
“Watch it. We’re talking designer duds, mister.” Yet I couldn’t have cared less about my loss of wardrobe. Hey, I ain’t not fool. If the man of my life wanted to wiggle me out of my pants, then I wasn’t about to stop him. My lacy thong followed. “What do you think you’re doing?” Grasping his shirt, I tried to rip it off, but with no luck. Instead, Blake tugged it over his head.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come home for hours. What’s Swindle doing to you? Chaining you to a desk so clients can pass by and taunt you with unsigned contracts?” He ran his tongue over my breast and started shedding more of his clothes.
“Urgh. Do not—I repeat—do not ever say his name with your head pressed between my boobs. Such a mood killer.” I swept a placemat off the table. “Want to find the bedroom?”
“Grrrr.” Keeping his face at the hollow between my breasts, he shook his head in an unmistakable refusal. “No.”
Table linens and the rest of the placemats flew off the table. Pushing me flat onto the cool, smooth surface, he groaned and kept his hold on me. My body, primed and ready for action, leapt to the call of his mouth on my nipples. And to think I’d stayed away from him all day.
After the incident at the Madison house, I’d spent the rest of the day checking a few more pawn shops, all with no luck. But at least now I knew the Underworld didn’t have the Bracelet, and their massive army was one less zombie. Sometimes you have to take the small victories where you can.
His fingers toyed with my clit, making me squirm with a mixture of frustration and pleasure. I gripped his hair and pushed him down. “Eat me, Blake. I need you to suck me dry.”
His chuckle answered me and he slid down to the end of the table, eager to please me. “Let me taste what’s on your sexy plate.” Landing on the end chair, he tugged me toward him until my “sexy plate” was ready to serve up to his mouth. Spreading my folds as he’d spread my legs, Blake raked his tongue over my wetness in a slow, deliberate move. “Hmm. Good.”
Murmuring encouragement, I twisted to watch him. Then I reached around me and tried to grasp the polished mahogany. He buried his face in between my legs and I closed my eyes, focusing my attention on the sensation of his lips and hands on my body. “This is—oh, shit!—what I call a real—oh, oh!—meal.”
He lifted his face long enough to quip, “A full-course dinner with dessert served first.”
I started to laugh, but laughing is very hard when your whole body is pounding with sexual tension. Blake’s hands found my breasts, squeezing them with each lick and nip. Loving the feel of his big hands possessing me, I closed my hands over his, keeping him there.
A shudder rippled through me with a climax and I yelled for more. Writhing under his control, I felt the fire of lust course through me. Vaguely, I wondered if my heart could actually beat out of my chest, breaking through bone and flesh to land on the floor. If it did, the loss would still be worth the ecstasy I was enjoying. “Now, Blake. I—I—can’t take—it—any longer. Take me, Blake. Now. Please.”
A growl escaped him—a deep, tortuous sound I’d never heard from him before—and he slipped his hands under my back to yank me to a sitting position. His nostrils flared and the heat in his eyes burned into me.
For a moment, I was afraid. Why? Because for a second, my husband’s growl sounded a bit like the growl of a demon. Okay, more than a bit.
His mouth traced a hot path from the tip of my shoulder to the soft spot at the base of my throat, and I tossed my silly thoughts aside. My instincts had been right about Judy, but this was different. After all, this was my husband. Still, a tiny spark of worry nestled into the dark corners of my mind.
Without waiting to grab some protection, Blake rammed into me and I forgot everything else except the feel of his shaft moving in and out in long strokes. I tugged him closer, wanting to be so close I’d fit inside his body, and clutched my hands to the hard muscles of his torso. My ridiculous suspicion reared its head again when, only for a split second, I thought I’d run my fingers over rough, scaly skin. Demon-like skin. Yet I knew my mind had to have imagined it because, once again, I felt the slick, sweat-soaked skin of my husband’s back.
Knock it off, Jenn. Get a grip on yourself. Blake is your husband. He’s anything but a demon. I kept the self-reprimand going for awhile until I pulled away from him to see his face.
Taking deep breaths, I managed to loosen the anxious knot in my stomach. I gazed into the face of my loving, sexy, very mortal husband right before he closed his eyes and tensed for his release. We met each other’s thrust and climaxed together.
Afterward, we leaned on each other and supported our tired yet satisfied bodies. “We had sex on the dining table. Oh. My. God. Where will we end up next?” Since our return from our honeymoon, we’d christened the living room sofa, the kitchen counter, the shower and—well, you get the picture. Yet Blake kept coming up with other places to break our sexual bottle on to christen our new home. Hey, I wasn’t about to complain.
“Want to jump in the shower together?” His sly smile spoke volumes for his rejuvenation abilities.
“You are insatiable.” I wiped the sweat from his brow with my fingertip. “And I love it. And you, too.”
“Ditto.”
He grinned because he knew what I would think about his reply. I scowled at him. We watch one lousy chick flick together and he picks up that one-word response to use. Not “You complete me” or even “Love is never having to say you’re sorry”. Nope. He uses “Ditto”. Thanks for nothing, Patrick Swayze.
Blake tugged me toward the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s see how much steam we can make.”
As much as I wanted to heat up the shower with my sexy hubby, I figured I’d better get Partner out of my pocket and into the car for the rest of the night. Then I could really g
et busy with Blake. “I’ll be there in a sec, but I’ve got to check on something first. You go on up and get things started. Hey!”
Blake swiveled around and I nearly forgot what I was going to ask when I saw his probe at full alert. The man was a sex machine. “Yeah?”
“Uh, I…” What had I planned to say? “Oh, yeah. I meant to ask. Have you heard from Michael?” After their meeting of the other night, I couldn’t imagine Blake not trying to get hold of his brother to smooth things over. Smoothed over from what, I wasn’t sure, but it had to be something major.
Blake’s features clouded over and, unless it was my imagination, his ding-dong wilted a little. I forced myself to look at his face again.
“No.”
“Are you going to call him?” My internal antennae searched for a clue and found nothing. Something was off with Blake and Michael, and I wanted to know what it was.
“Leave it alone, Jenn.”
“But—”
“Hey, what about the shower? Let’s get going.”
Blake took off running and I tilted my head to watch his tight ass, strong legs and overall studly torso take long strides. I almost forgot about Michael and Partner, and started to follow Blake when his cell phone started playing The Devil Went Down to Georgia. Why he loved that particular song, I’ll never know.
I grabbed his phone and yelled, “Blake?” But he was already through the door and into our bedroom. Probably even all the way into the bathroom.
Okay, I admit it. I’m a nosy broad. Following my naturally snoopy inclination, I checked the phone for a caller ID. Fortunately for me and my nose, whoever had called had left a message. I knew I shouldn’t have punched the button to retrieve the message, but Angel Jenn who sat on my right shoulder had gone shopping for a new halo. Devil Jenn, however, was on my left shoulder and taking care of business. The words flashed at me. Got your message. Leave it alone. I am what I am. No blame, no guilt. bro.
