Chapter One
It was the end of the world.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Scotlyn Summerline vainly hit the reload button on the computer, trying to force the winning bid higher. That final total just couldn’t be right. It couldn’t. Not even her luck was that bad. She needed money and she needed it yesterday. Actually, by her landlord’s calculations, she needed it last Tuesday. So that terribly low number just couldn’t really be the selling price. It wasn’t fair. How could something so terrible befall a nice girl like her? She voted in every election and was polite to the elderly and donated money to a cat shelter. What kinds of karmic sins had she committed, besides shoplifting that tube of lipstick in the tenth grade? Why was this happening to her? What kind of loving God would allow a perfectly beautiful Louis Vuitton handbag to sell for only forty-two dollars? Scotlyn resisted the urge to throw the flat screen monitor like a Frisbee and settled for a slightly suppressed scream of frustration, instead. Her hands beat against the counter in a quick tantrum. Damn internet! Damn eBay! Damn… She squinted at the high bidder’s screen name. Damn VannaFan4Eva! Wait… VannaFan? Jesus. It really was the end. Scotlyn just gave up. Her forehead flopped forward to bang against the keyboard. What was the use of even trying when everything always went wrong? Her favorite purse now belonged to some Wheel of Fortune groupie. She was still dead broke. Soon-to-be homeless. Working the nightshift at an adult themed mini-golf course. In Vegas. For an evil asshole. Earning minimum wage. Selling the last of her possessions for pennies at a glorified cyber yard sale. Barring a meteor strike, things just couldn’t possibly get any worse. But, then again, Scotlyn had been telling herself that for the past year. Ever since she got downsized out of her casino job and had to hang-up her feathered headdress for the fast-paced world of putt-putt golf. Economic downturns hit showgirls, too. Especially the ones who were too short and wholesome looking to work anything but the Saturday morning kids shows, which were only put on so hung-over parents could have a few more hours of shuteye. After she was downsized, job hunting went nowhere. Unemployment checks dried up and her savings sure didn’t last long. Then, the credit cards got maxed out and nasty debt collector people started calling. Soon here she was: Scenic rock-bottom. Scotlyn lifted her head to look around the sleazy front office of Topless Golf World. The whole place was decorated exactly how you’d expect a business called Topless Golf World to be decorated. Only worse. No one could have pictured the lamps shaped like penises or the tassels and g-string painted onto the little ladies’ room door icon. Those subtle touches could only come from a mind like Ezekiel Macready and, thankfully, her boss was one of a kind. The lone bright spot to the job –and the only reason Scotlyn didn’t quit and resign herself to living in a cardboard box– was the fact that the employees didn’t have to actually be topless here at Topless Golf World. Which was something many a disappointed bachelor party had bitched about when they arrived and saw her shirt blocking their view. Still, it kept the business juuust this side of legal. In fact, that was the company’s unofficial motto. Fortunately for Scotlyn, the oh-so elegant name referred to all the naked statuary out on the greens that drunken sportsmen got to knock their little balls through. In between their clumsy attempts to hit on her and the occasional drug deal out by hole fourteen, of course. Once upon a time, Topless Golf World had been called Little Fairytale Putt Putt. Scotlyn had worked at the kiddie course as a teen, which is how she knew to come crawling back to this particular eighteen holes-in-the-ground. Over the years, though, the neighborhood went to hell and all the sane parents started staying away. Desperate for new business, the former owner Mr. Jamison had re-themed Little Fairytale Putt Putt into an XXX-travaganza. All the fiberglass nursery book characters were retrofitted with skimpy outfits, and garishly painted so they all but glowed in the dark. Zeke had won the golf course from Mr. Jamison in a card game about two weeks after Scotlyn returned to work. When he took over, he’d kept her on as the secretary and she’d tried to convince him to restore the fairytale motif. He seemed to find that hilarious. Zeke called the nude statuary and all the new nightmarish décor “catering to the audience.” Scotlyn called it perverted. Her entire life had become a nightmare of flashing neon, golf clubs, and gigantic statues with plastic breasts. This Debbie Does Vegas vision had completely usurped her happy girlhood memories of princesses, and unicorns, and reading fairytales to little golfers. Now, it was all nudity and squalor. Scotlyn should have turned around the second she pulled into the parking lot and saw the course had changed its name. She’d been lured in by that “Help Wanted” sign in the window, though, and now she was stuck here in Playboy Bunny purgatory. She had to get out of this dump before she actually got used to the horror of it. The only thing that could be worse than the sickening sensation of embarrassment and self-pity she got when she manned the counter every evening… would be manning the counter and not feeling that sickening sensation of embarrassment and self-pity. Of growing resigned, giving up, and making this place her tacky, glittery coffin. Scotlyn had to escape, before she grew immune. To do that, she needed money. Prince Charming was twenty-eight years late to the rescue, so it didn’t look like any help was coming on the handsome-stranger-saves-Scotlyn-and-whisks-her-away-on-his-enchanted-yacht front. And, on the other end of the feminist spectrum, no Fortune 500 companies seemed eager to hire her, either. Even Pizza Hut had turned her down. Her thousands of resumes were no doubt lining birdcages all over Nevada. She should totally ask for a refund on that year of business school. Likewise, a life of crime seemed pointless because she’d just get caught. Scotlyn always got caught when she did something wrong. She was doomed to be a moral citizen. Even the Great Lipstick Caper when she was sixteen had landed her in front of the store detective. Plus, she’d gotten nervous and pilfered the wrong color for her skin tone, so the whole thing had been pointless. She sucked at crime. If she tried to knock over a bank or something, she’d land in jail before she could get her Ronald Regan mask on. Her options were getting limited. Clearly, her road out of hell was not paved with designer handbags, but maybe she could sell something else. What else did she even own? Lingerie? Scotlyn cringed a bit at the thought. Pretty, fancy, lacy underwear was her greatest weakness. But, at least half of everything she owned had never been worn, so she could sell a few embroidered bras with their tags still attached if it meant eating this week. Maybe. Or maybe not. After all, she did need to lose a few pounds. More than a few. No longer wearing a bedazzled bikini costume to work had some perks, after all. Like relatively guilt-free “Ben and Jerry’s for dinner” night when she was feeling particularly depressed. And Scotlyn was depressed a lot these days. Maybe she could just go hungry, keep her handmade undergarments, and consider extreme poverty – like– a default diet. Or maybe she could sell a kidney. “’Bout time you got here.” Zeke strolled out of his office, running a hand through his dark hair and stifling a yawn. “You make coffee, yet?” Or maybe she could sell Zeke’s kidney and leave him in a hotel bathtub full of ice. “I’ve been here for four hours. You were just busy napping and missed my arrival.” “Uh-huh… So, you made coffee, then?” “It’s all gone.” She bit off testily. Like she did every day when she first saw Zeke, Scotlyn found herself resisting the urge to just stare at him in frustrated amazement for a minute or two. He was just so astoundingly, effortlessly, strikingly handsome. It didn’t seem possible for an ordinary human to be that stunning. Or fair that someone so annoying should have such an undeserved genetic gift. Oh, Zeke did his best to disguise his looks with general sordidness. As usual, he covered his very impressive chest with some loud Hawaiian top, worn over a t-shirt with a comic book logo. The guy didn’t seem to own a pair of shoes that weren’t rubber flip-flops. His unevenly cut dark hair fell forward over his face, showing off the perfect angles of his unshaven jaw. He had three piercings that she could see, two in his ear and one in his eyebrow, plus a zigzagging tattoo of sharp angles around his wrist. No matter how hard he tried, though, Zeke still looked like Sir Lancelot on a bender. Perfect face, perfect body, perfect voice, perfect Central Casting choice for the gallant hero of a nice girl’s daydream. Except, of course, for the fact that Zeke wasn’t going to rescue anyone, ever. If a fire breathing dragon showed up, he’d probably just start taking odds on the numbers of villagers slaughtered. They guy was nobody’s hero. He’d told her so himself the last time a mouse skittered across the floor and she shrieked at him to kill it. “Make more coffee, then. Christ, it’s in your job description, right?” He opened the cash register, no doubt to reimburse himself the twenty dollars he planned to spend on Tanna, the neighborhood’s most popular hooker. Scotlyn might’ve considered some strategic pilfering too, if there was anything at Topless Golf worth taking. Sadly, unless you shared Zeke’s interest in real cheap dates, it was a pretty hopeless place for white-collar crime. Well, honestly, she wouldn’t have stolen, anyway. Not only was she terrible at theft, but that damn “nice girl” thing wouldn’t let her rip-off her boss. Even if he deserved it. “Actually no, making coffee is not in my job description.” Her mouth tightened as he shoved the bill he’d swiped into the pocket of his jeans. “And FYI for tax day: I don’t think the IRS actually lets you hang out with prostitutes in your Jacuzzi and then write it off as a ‘business expense.’” “Hey, it’s the company Jacuzzi and I’m only gonna consult with Tanna about marketing strategies.” Zeke arched a brow. “The girl’s got some special skills that you could really learn from, by the way. Very accommodating lady, unlike some puritanical blonde killjoys, I was misled into hiring.” “How did I mislead you? I told you I didn’t do shorthand or accounting or anything when you took over. And I set up the computer system, so…” “Like I give a shit about your office skills. Hell, I only got the damn computer to watch porn.” Zeke leaned across the counter, closer to her. He smelled like he’d just finished showering under an Alpine waterfall, the bastard. “I thought you’d be a lot more fun around here, Trix, that’s all. For instance, I don’t know how they did casual day, back when you were a stripper. But here at Topless Golf World, we are fine with some tasteful nudity, if…” “I was a showgirl, not a stripper. I’ve told you that a thousand times!” And honestly, she’d only been a showgirl in the technical sense. Scotlyn had never done any perfectly choreographed kick lines or anything even pseudo-glamorous. The Coney Island Casino, where she’d worked, catered to families. The whole resort was themed as a boardwalk midway. Mainly, she’d just posed for tourist photos with hyper kids and sang Disney songs to her pintsized audience. Her career in showbiz had been kinda pathetic. No. Not “kinda,” come to think of it. Just plain old, straight up pathetic. It also hadn’t paid well. Zeke’s lavender eyes sparkled at her indignation. He seemed constantly amused by the image of Scotlyn in fishnets and sequins. Now a days, she wore the vestiges of her old weekend wardrobe to work. All the lovely, stylish, designer clothes that had briefly made her very happy… Until she got the bills. He looked over her vintage inspired blue and white sundress, with a wicked smile. “It’s a wonder you didn’t starve, in that line of work. You don’t have a natural inclination to seduce a guy, that’s for sure.” Whenever he started in on her former career, Scotlyn expected him to mention that she didn’t look like a showgirl. She wasn’t particularly tall. Or graceful. Or beautiful. Scotlyn was pretty, in the all-American-kindergarten-teacher sense of the word. Ideally, a showgirl should look more like a Barbie doll and less like the girl someone’s parents invited over for a 4th of July picnic, circa 1942. The casino had only hired her because she’d gone to high school with the HR person and called in a favor. Zeke never bothered to belittle any of her physical shortcomings, though. Instead, he seemed fixated on her personality defects. Usually, he started with her tendency to be bossy and then moved onto her supposed good girly-ness. He was obsessed with the idea that she was some kind of Pollyanna. Right on schedule, he made a sad ‘tsk’ of a sound. “And all the nagging probably didn’t help much with the tips back at the casino, huh, Trixie?” “For the two thousandth time, I never went by ‘Trixie.’ My stage name was always just ‘Scotlyn.’ And I don’t nag.” He kept talking like he hadn’t even heard her. “Ya know, I shoulda fired you when you refused to put on that same glittery costume here at this job. It showed insubordination.” Scotlyn snorted at that statement. “Oh please. You’d fire yourself, before you fired me.” No matter what he threatened, Zeke wasn’t going to give her a pink slip. For some perverse reason, he enjoyed having Scotlyn around to torment. Besides, she was the only one who even tried to run Topless Golf World like an actual business. Without her to oversee it, the place would be closed within days. When she finally left it to flounder, it would be an act of mercy on the world. Zeke headed over to make his own coffee, apparently resigning himself to the fact that she had no intention of getting it for him… Just like he did every day. “I can’t fire me. I’m not sure I even work here.” Scotlyn arched a brow. “I’m not sure, either. Anyway, when I do escape this dead end job, it’ll be because I’m quitting. And, on that happy day, I will abandon you here on skid row, utterly lost without me.” Zeke’s head snapped around. “You’re leaving?” Scotlyn blinked. She expected a typical, snarky retort, but Zeke looked strangely intense. “No.” She regarded him in confusion. “Not yet. Soon, though.” She’d been telling him that for months. When he took over, Zeke had been pretty clear on the fact he couldn’t stand anyone being around him for more than a week at a time. He probably really did want her gone, but she couldn’t afford to leave yet, so too bad. Zeke watched Scotlyn silently, as if trying to get a mental ETA on her defection. Through some unfair twist of fate, Zeke also had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Endless pools of lavender, surrounded by thick lashes. Every color of purple and blue was somehow swirled together in his irises. Scotlyn could’ve spent hours counting all the subtle shades of indigo… If she wasn’t immune to Zeke’s dubious charms. Which –the occasional sex dream about him notwithstanding– she totally was. Really. But, she still couldn’t breathe properly until he glanced away from her. “Fine. Whenever.” He finished setting up the coffee pot and busied himself lighting a cigarette. “Before you eventually do go, you’re gonna have to train Tanna, though. She’s agreed to wear a naughty stewardess outfit as office attire, so I promised her your job, after you leave.” Scotlyn made a face. “And you promised me that you’d quit smoking. You might not care about your health, but I care about mine and I’m not breathing in your fumes. You’ll thank me when we don’t die of lung cancer in twenty years.” “Keep nagging and you’re gonna be dead a lot sooner than that.” But, he dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it out with his radioactive green flip-flop. “You’re going to ruin the linoleum! Do you know how much that’ll cost to repair?” He rolled his incredible eyes towards the skylight as if he was the one suffering. “God, you’re annoying in the morning.” “It’s midnight, Zeke, not morning.” “Technically, midnight is morning, Little Miss Know-it-All.” Scotlyn ignored that. “If you would just set an alarm…” She stopped herself and took a deep breath, refocusing her energy. “Actually, no. It’s good that this happened. It’s a perfect segue. I’ve been waiting for you to wake-up, because we need to talk.” “That sounds ominous. Shouldn’t we get to have sex, at least once, before we break-up?” Scotlyn disregarded that. “I’m not going to let you flush our business away, because you’re not in the mood to be a grown-up.” Her feelings towards Topless Golf World were gallingly complex. As much as she hated this place, she still felt the need to try and make it better. Actually, she felt the same way about Zeke. “Isn’t that why you kept me around? To help you run things?” He shrugged, his attention on his brewing coffee. “Truthfully? I kept you around because any woman who shows up for work in a little plaid schoolgirl skirt stays on the payroll. That’s a point of pride at this organization.” “That skirt was a Dior, you pervert. It was perfectly suitable for a professional interview with a new boss. And I’m trying to have a real conversation here.” Scotlyn pointed a finger at him. “Someone has to have an intervention with you about your business practices. Have you even looked at the list of money saving ideas I drew up for you?” He squinted. “There was a list?” “Yes! I gave it to you on Tuesday.” The squint got even squintier. “I thought today was Tuesday.” “Today’s Friday!” Friday the thirteenth, actually. She’d become morbidly aware of all unlucky omens. “Now, pay attention, unless you want to wind up as a jobless hobo. You need to institute some changes to help Topless Golf succeed. I know what I’m talking about here. I went to business school.” “You flunked out.” He reminded her in a disgustingly chipper tone. “I dropped out and that’s not the point. You’re doing everything wrong! It’s like you don’t even care about your livelihood. Our livelihood.” He glanced at her with a frown. “Is that what you’re worried about? Don’t. I have enough cash to cover your salary for the week.” “Considering what you pay me, I’m sure that’s true.” “If I give you a raise, will you promise to shut up and let me drink my coffee?” Scotlyn ignored that. She never told Zeke how badly she needed money. Her mountainous debt embarrassed her, considering the fact that he seemed insanely well-off, for a do nothing. “It’s a miracle you’ve stayed solvent this long.” She continued. “I’ve also made you a list of your major attitude problems, which contribute to our loss of revenue, if you want to hear it.” “Not really. Let’s talk about you quitting some more, instead. It cheers me up.” “You need to take your job more seriously or this business will never go anywhere.” He gave a bark of laughter at that assessment. “Trixie, wherever Topless Golf is going… we’re already there.” Zeke swept a hand around the shabby room. “Bask in the glory of our empire.” Scotlyn scowled. Why did she even bother trying to help him? The only thing Zeke took seriously was what brand of frozen pizza to buy. (No sodium, thick crust, extra pepperoni. Not that she was paying attention.) The man was brilliant, but, as far as Scotlyn could tell, all he’d accomplished in his thirty-some years of living was winning some poker games and memorizing the Klingon dictionary. If he put half the concentration into running his business that he did into watching Maury every afternoon, maybe Topless Golf World would have some actual customers. The worst part was Zeke seemed perfectly content squandering his potential. Anyone who interrupted his lifestyle of hedonistic excess got punched, snapped at, or ridiculed. Except for Scotlyn. She was the only one who ever got in his face and survived with all her limbs intact. For some reason, Zeke tolerated her lectures and insults. Oh he snarked at her, but he really should have fired her long ago, given her insubordinate attitude. Honestly, she had no idea why he kept her around. He could’ve found another secretary who’d caused him a lot less trouble and who’d probably sleep with him. It didn’t make any sense, even by Zeke’s twisted logic. “Zeke….” Scotlyn trailed off in annoyance, when he started checking his phone for updates on the newest Star Wars movie. “You have no idea how frustrated you make me.” “You’re feeling frustrated?” Zeke scoffed. “Well, you might wanna consider getting a sex life, then.” He frowned down at the phone, gave it a “why-is-this-thing-not-working?” sort of shake and then gave up, shoving it back into his pocket. “You are still flyin’ solo in the bedroom, right?” Her lack of a boyfriend was his other favorite subject. She scowled. “I could sue you for sexual harassment, just for asking that question. If you had anything worth suing for, I probably would.” “Yep. That’s what I thought. You’re still, not gettin’ any.” He sounded unbearably pleased about that. “Come on, Trix. Fess up. What kinda man are you waiting for? Like a doctor, right? Nice girls love themselves some doctors. Anything that takes lots of studying turns them on like that Thunder from Down Under show.” Scotlyn leaned back in her chair and fixed him with a flat look. “You need some new material. I was a showgirl. That means –by definition– I’m not such a nice girl.” He gave that slow smile that made her insides melt, despite the fact that she almost completely detested him. “Yes, you are.” Yes, she was. Damn it. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from the hypnotic pull of his eyes. “And anyway, I don’t date jobs. I date men. After all, if someone were to judge me about where I work, I’d stay single forever.” “You sayin’ that respectable people don’t frequent Topless Golf? I resent that. We once had the Mayor visit us.” “She was trying to shut us down!” “Still, I got her picture with me.” He pointed to the framed photo on the wall of the angry looking Mayor, some chanting protesters with anti-pornography signs, and Zeke giving a thumbs-up at the camera. Scotlyn did not almost smile every time she looked at that silly thing. “Her Honor’s patronage aside, my future husband won’t frequent this dump. At least, I hope not.” All her life, Scotlyn had been waiting for the kind of guy you’d marry. Sadly, he’d yet to show-up. Sometimes, she doubted he ever would, but she still held out a tiny bit of hope that he’d make his heroic entrance and her dreams would come true. She seriously needed to get out more. Zeke’s mouth gave a strange twist. “Yeah. Well, fantasize about Mr. Right, if you want. I’m just sayin’, in the meantime, you need to get laid.” He glanced over at her through the haphazardly cut length of his bangs. “And if you need a volunteer…” “Nice try.” He grinned at her tone. “Don’t be such a Puritan. I promise you’ll have fun.” Oh, she had no doubt about that. “I’m not going to bed with you, Zeke, and you know it.” “Yeah, but why?” It was a bantering whine. Zeke’s flirting, come-ons, and propositions were always one big joke to him. If she was ever crazy enough to take him up on any of them, he’d probably run for the hills. Scotlyn had no idea why she even bothered to answer him with the truth. Probably because she spent an annoying amount of time reminding herself of all the reasons she should stay away from him, so the answer was front and center in her brain. “Aside from the fact you’re a repulsive jackass, it would feel wrong to sleep with you.” He made a scoffing sound. “No, it wouldn’t.” “For me it would. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone unless things were… special between us.” Zeke blinked like she was a complete enigma. “Really?” He finally asked, as if he was half-convinced she was joking. “Yes. Really.” Was that so bizarre a concept? He slowly shook his head. “Jesus, you really are going for the all-time record of consecutive acts of good girly-ness committed in Las Vegas.” The mockery faded from his incredible eyes and he looked somehow unsettled. “Fine. Save yourself for Sir Lancelot.” He turned back towards his office. “I’m gonna be busy playing Xbox for the next six hours. Don’t bother me.” “This is supposed to be your shift…” Scotlyn made a face as he slammed his door shut. No wonder he had to pay for sex, given what a grouchy, moody, annoying… Oh. She absently glanced back at her computer monitor and winced at the “auction ended” banner glowing at the top of the screen. Right. She’d forgotten about that. Clearly, she needed to concentrate on something besides her evil employer. eBay. Imminent bankruptcy. Selling all her worldly goods. Think. What else could she do to get money? If she had parents, Scotlyn supposed she could’ve hit them up for a loan, but she’d been abandoned as an infant. Her earliest memories were of orphanages and foster homes. Most of which –no matter what 20/20 exposés on the subject seemed to suggest– had been really supportive. She’d never been abused or neglected. Hell, several of her foster parents still sent her birthday cards. But, none of them had the cash to pay her rent. Scotlyn ran a hand through her shoulder length curls and frowned. Hey, did wigmakers still buy hair like in Little Women? She pulled a strand in front of her eyes, considering its possible untapped value. Were there even such things as wigmakers, anymore? There must be. Where did the hair in wigs come from if not from other people’s heads? The strawberry blonde color of her curls was Scotlyn’s best feature. People always complimented it. Maybe her hair was worth a fortune to some black market wig trader. She winced. Yeah, that sounded desperate, even to her. To Scotlyn’s eternal shame, she still actually tried Googling information on the human hair business, but the stupid internet seemed to be down. Shit. She frowned at the screen in annoyance. Why was she –alright, why was Zeke– paying for high speed access if the damn thing wasn’t going to work when she needed… A sound came from outside and Scotlyn’s head whipped around to stare out at the golf course in alarm. Her desk sat in front of the sliding glass doors that led to the greens. She could see all eighteen holes and she knew that there shouldn’t have been a single customer playing on any of them… Except there was some drunken guy staggering around Mount St. Hot, Hot, Hot. He seemed to be walking into the side of it, backing up, and then walking into it, again. Over and over, so the whole thing shook. Then, he took his hands and gave it a ruthless shake. “Zeke!” She bellowed, even as she sprang towards the door and out onto the course. Mount St. Hot, Hot, Hot was the largest and most delicate obstacle at TGW. Shaped like a gigantic volcano, it was made of thin fiberglass. Glowing red lava trails made from Christmas tree lights, trailed down its sides and tiny naked women were tossed in the ten foot smoke stack, via clockwork mechanism. When you sunk your putt, the “volcano goddess” celebrated with an array of orgasmic sounds and an eruption of sparklers. The whole stupid contraption was held together with duct tape and prayers. If some lunatic broke it, her whole weekend would be spent cursing at power tools and crying over her ruined manicure. That wasn’t going to happen. Zeke came stalking out of his office at her shout. “What did I do to piss you off, now…?” He stopped short, sizing things up pretty quickly. “Son-of-a-bitch. Scotlyn, no!” Scotlyn disregarded that order, intent on saving her volcano. “Stay away from that, you moron! You’re going to break it!” As she got closer, the guy’s unfocused eyes and halting steps told her that she was dealing with something way stronger than alcohol here. He looked like he was drooling, a long stream of saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth and glistening in the course’s floodlights. As she watched, the guy tore loose a piece of the volcano’s plastic side and ate it. “Fuck.” Zeke could move fast when he wanted to. He was across the office, before she’d even gotten past hole three. “Scottie, I swear to Christ!” He seized hold of her arm and yanked her to a halt. “Go back inside or I really will fire your ass.” “Promise?” She tried to wrench herself free of his grasp, but Zeke didn’t release her. “Are you kidding me?” Scotlyn glowered up at him, ignoring the radiating warmth of his body and the feel of his palm on her skin. “Stop being an idiot and let me go.” Whenever she got within a foot of Zeke her heart started pounding, and touching him just made it worse. Whatever weird pheromone his body gave off, she was positive he did it deliberately to mess with her head. He ignored her complaints and adjusted his grip, so her wrist wound up pinned behind her back. Scotlyn’s eyes widened in surprise as Zeke tugged her forward. Her free palm automatically came up to rest on the wide expanse of his shoulder. How had he done that? The guy spent four hours a day flicking pencils into the acoustic tiles of his ceiling. But, in less than two seconds, he’d expertly captured her body against his, keeping her hand trapped against her spine and her breasts flattened against his chest. That wasn’t an accident. Every move he made was deliberate, as if he’d practiced complicated martial arts maneuvers from the cradle and her brief struggle was just like someone swatting at a fly. That just pissed her off more. “He’s destroying hole eight, while you play caveman, Ezekiel!” “Does it seem like I give a shit about this golf course? Get inside. When you die, I want the joy of killing you myself.” Scotlyn’s insides took a dip. Okaaaaaay. That determination was new. Suddenly, a different, harder person was possessing her slacker boss. She wasn’t intimidated by his badass tactics. In fact, she felt very safe. She always felt safe with Zeke. Her eyes stayed locked on his, even as her body grew warmer. Every time she breathed, her chest rubbed against his, her breasts getting tight. She’d never been this close to him before. It was annoyingly, embarrassingly, pitifully exciting. Zeke felt it, too. His lavender gaze glowed hot as the hard points of her nipples grazed him. Her bra was a beautiful concoction of silk and lace that did absolutely nothing to hide her desire. He tugged her a tiny bit closer and she felt the hard evidence of his arousal. Scotlyn felt her jaw drop. Jesus, he wasn’t joking, for once. He was turned on and that just had her whole body tingling. It was such a bad idea, but Scotlyn still moved against him. It was just a tiny instinctive rocking of her hip, but it was still… acceptance. His expression got ever harsher. “Don’t.” He warned. “You won’t like what you unleash, baby.” Actually, she was willing to bet that she’d like it a lot. Still, he was right. This whole thing had gotten out of control and that worried her. In some bizarre way, Zeke was her best friend. When she wasn’t despising him or mentally undressing him, anyway. He was the one she talked to and spent time with. She didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize their weird relationship. Scotlyn dropped her gaze and tried to refocus. “I care about the golf course.” Zeke cleared his throat. “I know you do. I’ll stop the intruder, alright? Not you.” He released Scotlyn, but not before giving her a not-so-subtle nudge back towards the office. Once he stood between Scotlyn and the drugged-out lunatic, his normal sardonic tone returned. “And remind me again why I’m paying you to watch the front desk? How did you let this guy in?” “I didn’t. He must’ve scaled the back fence or something.” “We need barbwire. Put that on one of your lists and order some tomorrow.” He studied the grunting invader for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Crazy damn meth head.” He started towards the volcano… …And that’s when Scotlyn saw that he was carrying a revolver. Whoa… hang on. Zeke had a gun?! Shit. “Zeke, wait. Don’t do anything crazy here.” Jesus, it was like the man was allergic to having good ideas. “Experts always say that you shouldn’t have a weapon in your hand during a confrontation.” “Bullshit. You wouldn’t need a weapon unless you were in confrontation.” Touché. “Well, before you open fire, bear in mind that Nevada has the death penalty.” “Don’t worry about it. The cops aren’t going to find the body.” God, but she hoped he was kidding. Scotlyn chased after him, because there was always a chance he might be serious. Zeke had a lousy sense of humor about trespassers and an inability to think more than five seconds into the future. That didn’t bode well for any kind of peaceful compromise. “Let’s just call the police.” They’d take their own sweet time responding to anything in this part of town, but she’d rather the golf course get chewed apart piece by piece than see Zeke go to prison for murder one. “Zeke…” “Yo, ass-wipe, you have two fucking seconds to get off of my property, before I personally test the local gun laws.” He shouted, nearing Mount St. Hot, Hot, Hot. Above his head, white puffs of fog-machine fog poured from the volcano’s mouth and into the dark sky. Scotlyn automatically looked up at them and saw something wrong. A pink haze covered the clouds and a fine mist of glitter seemed to be falling in the distance. For some reason, it had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. The junkie guy didn’t answer, but he definitely heard him. His face snapped around like a wild animal’s, his tilted at an impossible angle. He started towards them. Zeke’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is this now?” He asked, almost to himself. “Why does he smell dead?” “Wait.” Scotlyn grabbed hold of Zeke’s sleeve as he stepped forward to meet the guy, anyway. She didn’t smell anything, but the trespasser fixed his blank gaze on them and she just… knew. It didn’t make any sense, but in that heartbeat she knew and she didn’t question it. The man wasn’t human. Scotlyn’s palm slid down to Zeke’s forearm, her fingers digging into his skin. “Don’t go near him.” It was the first time she’d ever initiated any contact between them. The first time she’d ever touched him. “Something’s wrong.” Zeke looked at her hand in surprise and then back to the trespasser. She could tell from the tension in his body that he believed her. Which was good, because Scotlyn was beginning to realize the problem was even bigger than just the whatever-the-hell that guy-was. There were more of them milling around. A lot more. As her eyes adjusted and she looked around, she spotted at least twenty in the open expanse of desert behind the golf course. A few of them wandered over to cling onto the chain-link fence that surrounded Zeke’s property, shaking it as they tried to find a way through. “Alright, tell me I’m drunk and I’m not really seeing that.” Zeke whispered fiercely. “I’m sure you are drunk, but we both totally see it.” Someone burst out of the all-night laundromat next door, screaming like he’d seen straight into hell. He leapt through a window, fleeing from whatever was inside and shattering the glass. Somehow staying on his feet, apparently through pure panic and the pin-wheeling of his arms, he took off into the not-so-empty desert. Instantly, the stumbling figures were upon him. They dragged shrieking man to the sand and seemed to start… Eating him. “Oh my God!” Scotlyn shouted. “Let’s go.” Zeke moved his hand to grip her wrist and tugged her backwards. Scotlyn let him pull her away. There was nothing they could do for the dead man. Zeke was right. They had to get out of there. “What are we…? Shit!” The trespasser lunged forward, his arms outstretched, clawing at them. He moved so fast. This close, Scotlyn could see he was wearing a cheap suit and a tie with the Peanuts characters on it. She could also see that it wasn’t drool dripping from his mouth. It was blood. Zeke shoved Scotlyn behind him, raised the gun, and shot the creature three times in the chest. The whatever-it-was kept coming. Oh God. “Get inside!” Zeke roared. “Go, now!” He shot it again, this time in the knee, trying to slow its advance. It stumbled, emitting an animalistic screech and continued limping after them. “Son-of-a-bitch.” Zeke aimed for its other knee. “Head!” Scotlyn shouted. “In zombie movies, you always have to aim for the head!” He obligingly shifted the muzzle and put the last two bullets right into its skull. The creature toppled over onto hole five, which was shaped like the backseat of a ’57 Chevy convertible. With one last convulsive twitch it finally lay still. Zeke slowly lowered the revolver. “So, you think they’re zombies, huh?” He got out in an eerily calm voice. “That’s a new one.” “I don’t know what they are.” Scotlyn was beyond processing anything. All she could do was stare at the body. “What else could they be?” Scotlyn realized she was shaking. All around them now, she could hear people screaming and the horrible groaning of the creatures. She looked up at Zeke and swallowed hard. “What are we going to do?” “Find more bullets.”
