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But it beats running. I loathe running. Burning lungs and aching shins is a hell I’m not willing to endure. That said, I’ve always envied runners. They look so free. Plus, they’ll have the definite advantage during a zombie apocalypse. Unfortunately, I’ll have to resign my fate to being one of the bitten.
myself just fine. Something I remind Scottie of now. “Of course you can.” He doesn’t sound as sincere as he should, the asshole. “However, someone needs to keep an eye out in case there’s a mob situation. Bruce was available. Don’t worry, he’ll blend.” I snort. “Scottie, he’s a bodyguard named Bruce Lee who looks a lot like the master Bruce Lee. He attracts attention just by being him.” “To be fair, it isn’t his name that garners attention from strangers,” Scottie deadpans. “It isn’t as though he wears a shirt that says, ‘Hello, my name is Bruce Lee.’”
“You smell nice.” John’s observation wakes me up. “Okay.” “What’s with the tone?” he asks, clearly amused. I shrug. “Smelling nice should be a given. Because the opposite would be that I smell bad—” “Which would be a problem,” he adds solemnly. I nudge his shoulder. “It’s like me saying, hey, John, look at you being all clean.”
“Stells,” he whispers, “where have you been all my life?” A lump rises in my throat. “Drifting.” The corner of his lip quirks. “Well, stop. Don’t drift away.”
John skitters back with a yelp. “Jesus, calm down with the stabby finger. And we both know that’s not true, Stella Button. Need I mention the—” “Utter another word and I will bite you like a rabid ferret.”
“What are you doing here?” I whisper back. “Do you want Hank to neuter me?” Her snort is a ghost of sound. “He’s not going to neuter you.” “Oh, yes he is. He distinctly said he’d rip my balls off and feed them to me if I laid an untoward hand on you.” “Untoward?” She laughs at me. “Why, Mr. Darcy, how gallant of you to protect my honor.”
I glare down my nose at her. “Did you not notice the actual swords hanging over our heads right now?” Hank has a collection of them. Along with a fair number of hunting knives. He made sure to show them to me. Her cheeks plump. “They’re only for decoration.” “Uh-huh. Sure, they are. Tell me, Button, you ever bring a guy over here? Are their bodies buried in the garden?” “You’re the first. But I’ll be sure to tell your story if you don’t make it out.” “Your concern is touching. Really.”
“If he sent a human head,” Brenna says darkly, “I’m going to be really upset.”
