Page 40 of Property of Zombie

18

ZOMBIE

The moment I woke up this morning, I had one job: Follow up with Morris Baker to ensure that he was meeting with Michael Martin tonight. Not only was their meeting important because it would keep Michael occupied, but it would also prove Baker’s loyalty to the Kings. Clearly, I failed at said job since I’m staring at a very pissed off Martin.

“I should’ve known you were behind the last-minute request for a meeting,” Martin says, his tone filled with barely contained rage. “Particularly since the last time the man and I spoke, he was out of the country and unsure when he’d return.”

“I warned you what would happen if you continued with the sale.”

His eyes flash with anger, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Lucy beats him to it as she shoves me again. This time, I move enough for her to interact with the man.

“Why are you here, Michael?” she asks.

There’s no mistaking the rigid set of his shoulders as he smiles. “For our date, of course.” His tone is about a thousand times more friendly toward her than it was with me, but I still hear his aggravation.

“I distinctly remember telling you no when you asked me out,” she says calmly.

“You did,” he says, confirming that he recalls their conversation in the zoo parking lot. “But we both know you only said no because Zombie was there. That’s why I sent the flowers, to let you know that I understood.”

I don’t bother to hide my snort of derision. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re a felon who can’t be the man a woman like Lucy needs,” he counters, his control slipping, and his gaze never leaving her face. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Darling?

Lucy, God bless her soul, laughs outright. “Michael, I’m not your darling, and I said no to a date because I’m not interested in you like that. Now, please respect that and leave.”

I fully expect him to argue with her, to try and convince her to change her mind, but he doesn’t. No, instead, his fake smile widens. It doesn’t reach his eyes, though, and my muscles tense to an almost painful degree when I recognize the rage he’s trying so hard to hide.

“I’ll respect your decision,” he assures her. “I apologize for the misunderstanding.”

Without another word, he turns on his heel and makes his way to the limo parked at the curb. When Lucy makes no move to close the door, I do it for her and engage the deadbolt.

“I’d completely forgotten about the flowers,” she admits. “Tossed them in the trash the next day and put the whole thing out of my mind.”

Lucy tips her head back to look me in the eyes, and I hate that the green depths seem duller than they were before Martin showed up.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No?” She turns and heads toward the couch, but I stop her before she can sit.

“No.” Threading my fingers through hers, I lead her to her bedroom.

“I’m the one who put the moves on him, Zombie,” she says. “It’s my fault that he thinks I wan⁠—”

“Shut up,” I snap, but there’s no heat in my tone.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I don’t care if the two of you fucked every day for months. You told him you didn’t want to go on a date, and that’s all that matters. One yes or twenty doesn’t lessen your ability or take away your right to say ‘no’ whenever you want. No means no whether you’re talking about sex or a date or, hell, even a peck on the cheek. It’s that simple.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at her lips, and my heart swells.

Dammit, I’m gone for this woman.

“Still, I should’ve at least text or called him after I got the flowers and reinforced the fact that I’m not interested in him like that.”

“Like that?” I ask.