by Avery Flynn
“Can’t he see us on here?”
“Oh, he sees us all right. The whole expedition was a trap. We were supposed to be zombie munchies so he could get the gold.”
Jax’s mouth dropped open. Even with all the craziness over the past few days, he must have not seen that coming. Neither had she. “You’re kidding.”
Veronica shrugged. “Take a look at his hacksaw and tell me if you still think I’m joking.”
“Fuck, we’ve got more problems on this end too.”
Veronica glanced up and her stomach bounced against her toes. Dozens of zombies clung to the upper stretch of green. The beanstalk gyrated under the one-two punch of Antoine’s hacksaw and the zombies’ bulk.
Her gut twitched. “This thing is going down.”
“I’d rather take my chances here than to see if I can sprout wings.”
“What if you’re flying on a magic carpet?” She unsnapped a pocket, and the carpet unfolded itself in midair, close enough, she leapt onto it. Scooting over as far as she could, she held out her hand to Jax, who scrambled aboard.
From their vantage point above it all, Veronica watched in silence as the drama unfolded, but she slid her hand across the soft blue threads and wound her fingers in Jax’s. His warmth anchored her to a world where not all men were like her father or her mentor, who constantly plotted to take what they wanted, no matter the cost to others.
The beanstalk’s shadow covered Antoine like death’s dark blanket. He abandoned his hacksaw and took off running.
The old man took only two steps before the beanstalk he’d been working so hard to cut down broke under the weight of the hundred or so giant zombies climbing down. Unable to hold onto the unstable beanstalk, they slipped off the vines. Their large bodies tumbled through miles of sky before landing with whumps that shook the leaves off the trees. Even their hearty bones couldn’t take the impact, and they died with a bang and a giggle.
Antoine scurried on the ground as the beanstalk toppled over, crushing him under its unbearable weight.
As the magic carpet floated down to the campsite’s long grass, Veronica searched for some sense of loss for the man who’d shown her the wonders of the world and stoked her passion for discovery. She came up empty. That man, if he had ever existed, had left the world a long time ago.
As soon as the magic carpet was close enough to the ground, she jumped to the grass. A single honk served as her only warning before the goose rammed into her legs, flapping its wings.
Veronica hunkered down beside the flustered bird and petted its soft feathers. “It’s okay, Christmas. It’s all over now.”
The wet earth stank of decomposing bodies and greed. It was a sickly combination. For the first time since she’d ended up on the business end of Antoine’s gun, the reality of the deception hit her. How many people had he sacrificed in this twisted little plot of his? The more she tried to hold in the angry tears, the more her shoulders shook.
Jax’s hard chest pressed against her back. He didn’t say a word, just wrapped his good arm around her waist and held her as she cried.
She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand and sniffled a few more times. “Thank you.”
“Hey, if a one-armed man can’t help the woman he loves, what good is he?”
“Oh my God, your arm.” Embarrassment infused her cheeks with heat. “Let me see it.”
She reached into her pocket, brought out a handful of pixie dust and scattered it over the shredded remains of Jax’s shoulder. The dust worked its magic, reconnecting the torn tendons and popping his shoulder back into place. Just as she was patting the newly healed skin, a cotton candy-scented breeze drifted through camp and the hair at her nape sizzled to life.
“Jax–”
The earth shook under their feet, throwing them this way and that.
Christmas honked and waddled into the woods faster than any bird should be able to.
“What’s going on?”
Jax grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Nothing good.”
The beanstalk’s vines unwound, gathering speed until the force created a gale in their small campsite. Three individual thick vines thrashed around, slapping against the ground and flattening anything in their path.
“Come on.” She and Jax sprinted out of the stone circle, into the woods and hid behind the trunk of a stout tree.
A gust of wind whipped through the camp, sending their tents flying through the air. She and Jax huddled together, his arms around her and his body blocking her from the debris sailing by.
The commotion ended as suddenly and unexpectedly as it began. Veronica peeked around the redwood. The zombie bodies were gone. Antoine’s remains had disappeared. All that remained of the beanstalk were three, small brown beans lying in the middle of a flat circle of grass.
“Is it over?” Her frantic, ragged breathing shredded her lungs. Each inhalation painful, but necessary. She’d made it this far and would be damned if she’d die from holding her breath.
“Not yet.” Jax picked up the beans and rolled them around in his wide palm. One at a time, he deposited each one in a separate pocket. “I have to scatter these so they can’t ever be put together again. Not all the zombies were on that beanstalk. There’s more of them waiting up there. God help us, if they ever manage to get down.” He cupped her chin, raising her face. “I’ll be back for you.”
His lips hovered an inch from hers, stealing the last residual fear from her and replacing it with a sexual heat that teased her nipples as surely as if he’d touched her. Awareness plucked at all her sweet spots, and her breath caught.
Desperate to hold onto her sanity, she rallied against her body’s mutinous reaction. “I’m still mad at you.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “I’m sure you are.” His hands moved to her waist, and he traced an infinity symbol on the upper swell of her ass with a firm touch.
“It’s going to take a while before I’ll stop being pissed.” Need dampened her panties, and she gave in, raising to her tiptoes and rubbing against the hard bulge in his jeans.
He groaned against her cheek. “Just know I’ll be there whenever you’re ready. I love you Veronica Kwon.”
Finally, he covered her lips with his and the rest of the world ceased to exist.
Chapter 12
Veronica’s fingers flew across the touch-screen keyboard on her phone as she navigated the hallways at Kwon Limited, flicking through the list of emails in her inbox. Her assistant, Sharon, had lined up the charter plane for the trip to South Korea next week, meaning the only thing she had left to do was pack and finish some last-minute research. Treasure hunters had been searching for Yongwang the Dragon King’s shield for hundreds of years. She was determined to be the one to find it.
Strong arms locked around her waist, pulling her in close before she could fall. His Southern Sex God cologne gave Jax away before she even raised her gaze to take in the mountain of hotness who had been sexting her nearly every hour on the hour for the past three weeks.
Dressed in his uniform of tight jeans and ab-hugging t-shirt, he looked even better in person than in her late-night imaginings.
“We really have to stop meeting like this.” His warm honey voice caressed her skin, warming her inside and out.
She traced a finger across his rock-hard abs, wishing like hell he was naked and in her bed. “If you’d like, we can do this again in half an hour at my place. I’ve been shopping.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really. Anything I’d like?”
“I don’t know, what are your thoughts about black leather and gold lace?”
“Babe, there’s not enough blood in my brain right now to form any thought besides I can’t wait half an hour.”
Her phone vibrated and Sharon’s number flashed on the screen. Damn, she had to take this. Sometimes being the boss sucked. “Hi, Sharon, is everything okay? Good. Look, something...came up. Can you cancel my afternoon appointments? Oh, and can you pick Chri
stmas up from the vet? Thanks, you’re the best.” She turned off her phone and shoved it into the very bottom of her handbag. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”
He kissed the base of her neck, melting her spine. “That sounds promising.”
“You have no idea.” She slid a card into the elevator keypad. The doors whooshed open and she pulled Jax inside by the tail of his blue t-shirt. The man looked too good and it had been too long to wait. She whipped the cotton garment over his head.
“Aren’t you worried someone on the next floor will see the boss getting frisky in the elevator?”
“This is my private elevator and it only stops at my apartment on the top floor.” She popped the button on his jeans. “I can’t wait to show you all the goodies I found.”
With his strong hands, he dipped underneath her skirt, hiked it up to her waist. “Babe, I already found everything this man could ever want.”
About Avery Flynn
Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip. Her credits include the Layton Family series from Evernight Publishing, Temptation Creek, Seduction Creek and Passion Creek, and Jax and the Beanstalk Zombies from Lyrical Press. She’s currently working on Killer Style, a fashion-themed romantic suspense series, and Sweet Salvation Brewery, a contemporary romance series about three sisters who inherit a brewery. Find out more about Avery on her website, www.averyflynn.com, and contact her at [email protected]. She’d love to hear from you. Also, if you figure out how to send Oreos through the internet, she’ll be your best friend for life.
Jax and the Beanstalk Zombies
9781616504717
Copyright © 2013, Avery Flynn
Edited by Mary A. Murray
Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.
Cover Art by Ramona Lockwood
First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: July, 2013
Lyrical Press, Incorporated
http://www.lyricalpress.com
eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated
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