Twisted World: A Broken World Novel (33 page)

BOOK: Twisted World: A Broken World Novel
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I
’d planned
on spending the fight chatting with Helen and attempting to wrangle some information out of her, but instead my eyes were glued to the ring the entire time. Donaghy was more amped up than usual. His punches seemed to come harder, his eyes not really focusing on the creatures in front of him, but instead looking through them. It was like his brain was somewhere else. His fists hitting someone else.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who or where.

The fight was over in record time, but the cheers were minimal when Dragon announced the winner. Mostly because the crowd was thinner than it had ever been before. The coughing had disappeared, but so had a lot of the population. It was like they had all vanished in the blink of an eye. Here one day, gone the next, never to be thought of again and definitely not to be missed.

“They’re bulldozing it,” Helen said from behind me, her scratchy voice cutting through my thoughts.

I turned away from the ring as Donaghy headed back to get cleaned up. He was even more covered in blood than usual, so he’d most likely take a shower. The idea of joining him popped into my head, but it floated away the second I set eyes on the older waitress. The
National Newspaper
was in her hands, and her blue eyes were focused on it as a cigarette dangled from her barely closed lips. They moved slowly as she scanned the article in front of her, the cigarette bobbing up and down with the silent words, ashes barely missing the newspaper before dropping to the floor.

“What?” Glitter asked before I could. Her pink hair was slicked back and brighter today, the dark blonde roots no longer visible.

“Shantytown.” Helen shook her head and closed her lips long enough to suck in a mouthful of poison. She blew smoke out of the side of her mouth before reading the story. “’The population has been reduced enough to get rid of the shacks and move the remaining citizens into apartments. The removal of bodies will start next week, along with a census to find out how many people were taken by the most recent flu epidemic. Once apartments have been freed up, the relocation process will begin. The government expects it to take only a few days, and as soon as shantytown is no longer inhabited, a bulldozer will be brought in to remove the shacks. The CDC blames the unsanitary living conditions for the spread of the illness, and the bulk of the deaths, and the Regulator has declared that measures must be taken to prevent another outbreak of this or any other flu. He has pledged to keep on top of the housing situation from now on, and is in the process of writing up a bill that will ban the building of any unregulated homes within the city.’” Helen’s mouth scrunched up and she snorted. “Assholes. Like they don’t know how many people died.”

“Was it worse than the last one?” I asked.

The older woman shrugged and tossed the paper on the counter before plucking the cigarette out of her mouth. “I’m willing to bet the number of deaths will be about the same, although who knows what the
National Newspaper
will report about it. I’ll get the real figures at work, though.”

Most of the patrons had left the bar, leaving only a handful staring into their glasses at the end of the counter. Tips were going to be shitty tonight, not that it mattered. I was more interested in clues about what was going on than credits at the moment.

“You’re that high up?” I asked. “At the CDC, I mean.”

Helen was in the middle of inhaling more smoke into her lungs—I swear they had to be black as night. She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and held her most recent breath in as she stared at me, almost like she was trying to give the chemicals a chance to poison her lungs.

She let the smoke out in one breath. “I am.”

I swallowed, my heart beating erratically in my chest. The expression in her eyes said she was dying to say more, but she didn’t. She just pressed her lips together and stared at me, one arm crossed over her chest and the elbow of the other arm tucked into her side while between her fingers the cigarette burned.

“Do you have access to all the top secret areas?”

Helen nodded once.

Behind her, Glitter shuffled her feet. “Helen, I—”

The older woman waved her off. “It’s okay, honey. Let her ask her questions. I don’t have to answer them if I don’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to answer me if you have the answers I’m looking for?” I was well aware that the question came out sounding like a riddle, but I had a feeling Helen knew what I was getting at.

“Sometimes, the truth hurts. And I’m not talking about hurting emotionally.” She put the cigarette between her lips and took another drag. “I wouldn’t want to tell you anything that would get you hurt, if you know what I mean.”

Heat moved up my neck to my face as anger swirled through me. She knew something, just like Dragon did, but neither one of them was going to tell me. My father’s life was in danger, but they weren’t going to help me even though they could.

“So you and Dragon are never going to tell me what’s going on?” I snapped. “I’m just going to have to figure it out on my own, is that it?”

Helen shook her head. “No. In fact, trying to figure it out on your own is the last thing you should do.”

“What exactly is the first thing I should do? Since you’re so quick with the advice.”

“Wait. You won’t be in the dark forever, but if we move too fast on this, something bad could happen.”

“Something bad could happen if we move too slow, too,” I snapped, waving my hand at my face, which was bruised and cut up.

Not one of my coworkers had asked me how I’d gotten hurt, but since Donaghy had seen the gray man in here the other day, I had a good feeling they all knew where my injuries had come from. Because whoever the gray man was, he was hiding here and he was plotting something with Dragon and Helen. Maybe even Glitter.

“You’re okay, right?” Glitter asked as her big, gray eyes swept over my face.

“Wonderful.” I let out a deep breath. “Just wonderful.”

No matter what Helen said, I wasn’t going to just sit back and do nothing. Not anymore. Tonight I would talk to Mom about everything that was going on, and she and I would decide what our next move would be together. I was tired of waiting on other people. Screw Helen and Dragon, and screw the gray man. He may have saved me a couple times, but he wasn’t looking out for my best interest or he would have told me what was going on in the CDC by now.

I turned away from the other waitresses and scanned the room. Dragon was talking to the big men who doubled as bouncers, but Donaghy was nowhere in sight. He must still be in the shower.

When I headed across the room, Glitter called after me, but I heard Helen tell her to let me be. Good. I was done talking. It was time for action.

The holding room was quiet now that Donaghy had taken the zombies out, and when I shoved the door to the back room open, the small space was filled with steam. The pitter-patter of water as it hit the shower floor echoed off the walls, loud in the tiny room.

When I stepped into the bathroom, I stopped dead in my tracks. There was no shower curtain on the stall, giving me a perfect view of Donaghy. He stood under the trickling stream of water with his back to me, stripped down to nothing. His head was bowed and the water ran down his back, magnifying the lines of his tattoo. Every inch of him was muscular and firm. Like he’d been carved out of the strongest marble.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn’t make myself leave. The anger I’d been feeling was still there, but it now felt muted by the desire swimming through me. Donaghy wanted to wait for a reason I couldn’t comprehend, but I had no desire to wait. I hadn’t wanted to wait earlier, and certainly didn’t want to now. After losing Colton, I never thought I’d want another man, but I did, and he was here and I knew firsthand that time was an abstract thing. This moment could be our last. Every moment could be our last.

I slipped my shoes off and shimmied out of my underwear, dropping them to the floor next to my heels. When I pulled my dress over my head, I tossed it aside just before stepping into the shower.

The water was lukewarm, but refreshing in the muggy atmosphere of the bar. Donaghy didn’t move, unaware that I was even here, but the second my hands touched his back he stiffened. He lifted his head slowly, turning it so he could look over his shoulder at me. He didn’t twist to face me, but his eyes held mine as I ran my hands down his back, not stopping until they were on his ass, my fingers curling around his hips. The urge to move them around to the front made my legs tremble.

“Meg.”

He didn’t say anything else, but his shoulders rose when he took a deep breath, and he squeezed his eyes shut like he was trying to decide what to do. Like if he didn’t look at me, he’d be able to resist.

Not if I had anything to say about it.

The shower was small, but there was enough room for me to squeeze around him so we were facing each other. I moved my hand too, dragging it along his hip to the front where I curled my fingers around him. He let out a deep breath at the intimate touch, groaning. Keeping his eyes shut tight as I slid my hand up and down. I watched his face the whole time; saw the conflicting desires in his expression. Saw the need. I moved my hand faster.

“God.”

It was the only word he muttered before he lost the war raging inside him and his mouth covered mine. My back slammed into the wall from the force of his kiss, the cold tile contrasting with the heat his hands brought to my body as they moved up my stomach to cup my breasts. His movements were frenzied, desperate and passionate and needy. His hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of my body that he’d managed to resist earlier. His lips following their lead. The power of his actions forcing gasps from me, and moans. My legs were weak and trembling, barely keeping me up, and I had to hold on to him to stop myself from collapsing on the floor at his feet.

Then he was lifting me, one arm around my back while the other held me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pushed inside me. The water fell on us in fat drops and my back hit the wall from the force of his thrusts. My lips were sore, but I couldn’t stop kissing him. His grunts mixed with my moans, the two sounds echoing through the room like a symphony of ecstasy as our bodies moved together.

It was quick, but satisfying, coming to an end when we both cried out together. Donaghy’s arm tightened around my waist as my nails dug into his back. I was afraid I’d drawn blood, but I couldn’t form words to ask him if he was okay, and when I opened my eyes, I couldn’t look away either. Donaghy’s gaze held mine prisoner. He didn’t put me down. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move from under the stream even though the water had cooled even more. We stared at each other, both of us breathing heavily.

A door slammed, but it was muted—probably in the holding room—and Donaghy finally set me on my feet. “Dragon’s going to fire you.”

Neither one of us made a move to leave the shower.

“I don’t care,” I said. “I can’t keep waiting. I’m telling my mom everything tonight. I have to get my dad out. Now.”

Fear flashed in Donaghy’s eyes, the emotion so strong it felt like it would knock me on my ass. He grabbed my arms and shook his head. “No. Meg, you can’t do something like that. Give Dragon time. I know he’ll come through. He’s planning something. I know it.”

“What if my dad dies before whatever he’s planning comes together?” I shivered, but it was only partly from the water that had now turned icy. Thinking about my dad dying while I did nothing made me sick. Sick and cold.

“He won’t die.” Dragon’s voice boomed through the room, and we both turned toward the sound. The man stood there, his bulky form taking up most of the doorway. “Get out and put some clothes on. Then we’ll talk.”

He was gone before we could reply.

Donaghy flipped the water off and we took turns using the small towel that hung on the wall. It didn’t get me totally dry, but it was better than nothing.

I was pulling my dress over my head when Donaghy said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I turned toward him, adjusting my dress so nothing important was exposed.

“I didn’t want this for you.” He waved to the filthy room at my back. “I told you. You deserve better than getting screwed by a convict in the back room of a shithole like this.”

“What about you?” I snapped. “You don’t? Why do you assume that I deserve better, but you deserve nothing?”

“That’s not it. It’s just—”

“No, that is it. We
both
deserve better. We
all
do. Everyone in this whole settlement. Everyone in this whole, shitty world. We all deserve better than this.”

“Shit,” a voice said behind me. “You sound just like your mama. Guess the apple don’t fall far from the tree.”

The gray man. I spun around, knowing who it was before I’d even laid eyes on him, and there he stood yet again. Grinning at me as he shook his head. At his side stood Dragon, not smiling, and the gray man mimicked the frown when he turned his eyes on Donaghy.

“You again.” I threw my hands in the air in frustration. “Who the hell are you?”

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