I made a noncommittal grunt. In light of recent developments, I didn’t think she was feeling all that lucky.
“No one other than my grandfather, mother, brother, and a few insiders knew me as anything other than Heather Lucas, a nobody corporate photographer. And I guess it was all just a big game for me until…Kang. And then Garrett. And the vids.” Tears glimmered in her eyes again. “But it’s not a game.”
“No,” I said quietly. “It really isn’t.”
She sighed, expression haunted. “Yeah, can’t just call a do over. And now I know how dirty I am. Life really sucks sometimes.”
I gave a soft snort. “I know ‘suck.’ Trust me.”
“If I hadn’t freaked the hell out when you IDed me as a Saber, I had the big plan of escaping tonight. I already had the door disabled. Not that I wanted to go, but I had to, y’know?” Heather took a deeper breath, glanced up at the sprinkler. “I swear, in those drawings I gave you everything I had that’s of use.”
I had no doubt Brian was making a lot of phone calls right now. “What happened after Brian caught you taking pics?”
Heather made a pained face. “I already knew I wanted out. No doubt about it. But getting out from under Saberton would take some time and planning. At the hospital after Brian,” she lifted her splinted hand slightly, “I had the fantasy that I could just switch sides.” She let out a low snort. “Like anything is that simple when dealing with this kind of thing. So I let that go and headed back to my hotel room to come up with an exit strategy.” She grimaced.
I gave her a Keep Going nod.
“My brother was there,” she said after a moment. “Andrew Saber. And everything went downhill after that.”
I remembered him from the Gala. Tall, Blond, and Serious. “He knew?”
Her grimace deepened. “He knew I’d killed Brent Stewart. Put pressure on me about getting myself in line with the company philosophy. Threatened to let our mother know I’d killed the guy if I didn’t.” She let out a shuddering breath. “Mother can be…vicious, and I know my brother really well. I’d never be anything but his bitch for life if I agreed. I should have let it go. Should have agreed to anything just to get out of there, but I was exhausted, on edge and already doubting so much.” A look of anguish came over her features.
“Did you kill him too?” I asked uncertainly.
“No!” she replied, eyes widening in shock. She shook her head in a firm motion. “No. God no. But I didn’t let it go when I should have. I told him I was through with all of the Saberton crap.” She winced. “Not a good thing to say to the next CEO. We argued and it turned ugly. Physical. He’s stronger, but I’m quicker and I’ve had more training. I got in a lucky punch that laid him out, and left him hog-tied with the bed sheet.” She looked at me. “That’s when I knew it was over. They’d never trust me again. And so I had no choice but to run. Right then, with no plans or arrangements made.”
“Okay. Wow.” I fell silent for a moment while I processed it all. “I’m gonna help you any way I can,” I finally said.
She gave me a weak smile. “You already did. The rest is gravy.”
“I mean it,” I said, frowning. “I’m real good at doing stupid shit. And I’m gonna bring it hard if Brian doesn’t come in here with a goddamn welcome home fruit basket.”
Her brow creased in worry. “Angel, it’s okay. There won’t be any welcome home fruit basket and it’s okay. I don’t want you getting yourself messed up over this. Really.”
“No, it’s not okay,” I stated firmly. “And that’s all there is to it.”
“Damn it.” She shifted in the restraints, tried unsuccessfully to sit up. “Don’t. Please don’t do anything stupid. And you know it would be. I mean, you have no idea how cool it is you have my back, but it would still end the same.”
I gave a snort of amusement, smiled. “You really don’t know me very well, do you?”
“Oh, man.” She winced. “I’m afraid I do.”
“I won’t let them do bad shit to you,” I said with a shake of my head. “I can’t.”
The door opened, and Brian entered with one of the drawings in his hand, face in unreadable mode.
Heather’s gaze went to the drawing, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Yeah, no fruit basket.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Brian?”
“She’s the one who turned us over to Saberton four years ago,” he said, voice even but carrying a dark undertone that sent a chill down my back. “It’s why they know about zombies. Why they know so much about zombies.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “How?”
Brian opened his mouth to speak, but Heather beat him to it.
“Got into one of Mr. Ivanov’s safes,” she said. “I copied a bunch of research material. I didn’t realize what it was until later.” She grimaced. “After that I spent almost a year gathering more information on zombies. That’s how I ended up with John Kang.”
“Damn,” I breathed, but then I shook my head. Lifting my chin, I looked back to Brian. “You can’t lay all that at her feet. Charish was ready to sell us out to the highest bidder. It would’ve happened at some point.”
Brian seemed unmoved. “Angel, I need to speak with Heather alone now.”
“Yeah,” I said tightly. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“It has to happen,” he stated. “I give you my word that nothing will happen to Heather in that time.”
I hesitated, but the memory of the hole in the office wall rose. He wouldn’t have punched a wall in frustration if he was totally okay with treating her like the enemy.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m trusting you.” And with that I gave Heather’s hand a squeeze and stepped out.
I obediently went off with the taciturn Jacques and allowed him to draw vials and vials of blood, after which I downed a fresh, warm puff pastry stuffed with brains and a to-die-for smoothie that Jacques called Dr. Nikas’s Special Blend. It sure beat the hell out of juice and cookies. Yet then I had to wait—very impatiently—for what was close to half an hour before Brian returned. Didn’t help that all I had to read was a decade-old issue of Field & Stream. Seriously, what the hell? Didn’t zombies keep up their magazine subscriptions?
When Brian came to get me, his face was still utterly unreadable. I stood and set the magazine down, crossed my arms defiantly over my chest, and looked up at him with as much authority as a short and skinny high school dropout zombie could muster.
“I’m not much of a fighter, Brian,” I warned him in a low voice, “but I’m mean, and I don’t quit. So I sure as hell hope you have something good to tell me.”
His expression turned grim, and dread curled into a tight knot in my gut as he approached.
“Goddammit, Brian,” I said, unable to keep my voice from shaking in anger and stress. “Have you already done something awful to her?”
I caught a faint whiff of cherry, and then before I could react, the stoic Brian Archer took hold of my shoulders and planted a big brotherly Cherry ChapStick laden smooch right on my lips. He’d smeared it on extra thick too, the bastard.
“No.” He pulled back, faint smile playing about his mouth.
A laugh of delirious relief burst out of me, even as I wiped the thick smudge of lip balm off my mouth with the back of my hand. “Oh my god, you must’ve used half a stick. So everything’s okay? She’s gonna be okay?”
He gave my shoulders a squeeze before dropping his hands back to his sides. “We’re taking her in.”
“As in…not fucking her up? And not ransoming her back?” I asked, still a bit wary. “You’ll let her defect—or whatever it’s called in the corporate world?”