Midnight Fever (Men of Midnight #5)(36)

"Quite right." Kay nodded. Suzanne Huntington's ability to infuse beauty into everything she touched was amazing. "If you're going to survive, you should survive in style."

"What she said, more or less. This is also a server farm. ASI has opened a new business, keeping corporate data secure for companies. We can barely keep up with demand. I think it represents about a quarter of our revenue now."

She smiled. Nick talked easily of "our" company, after working only a short time there. It was something she'd noted in the others, that they identified with their company. John and Douglas were excellent employers who treated everyone who worked at the company as a partner. Everyone who worked there was very well paid, very well treated and very well respected. Everyone who worked there loved it.

Her heart gave a hard, painful pulse in her chest, breaking a little. She'd loved her job, too. Going to work at the CDC every morning, she'd felt a burst of energy and, yes, even love. Everyone there was a good guy. A white hat. Everyone there had one goal-to stop disease. To heal, to cure. To make life better. To help mankind break the terrible chains that had held it in its iron grip since the dawn of time. People crippled, blinded, brought low by devastating pain, children dying young before their potential could be realized-all of these things the researchers at the CDC fought against with every ounce of energy in their bodies.



       
         
       
        

Like the FBI and CIA fought terrorists, the CDC fought disease. With no quarter and no rest. They fought the good fight.

Or so she'd thought.

Such pride she'd felt, entering the building, making the world a better place, striking a blow against evil, every single day. It hadn't even occurred to her that evil might be right there.

She missed her job, missed it fiercely, wondered if she'd ever be able to go back. Probably not.

Nick was watching her with a frown. For such a tough guy, a guy's guy, he was disconcertingly sensitive to moods. Damn him. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "You look-"

"Tired," she replied quickly. Her sorrow at losing a big chunk of herself and of her reason for living wasn't really helpful right now. Pointless burdening Nick with it. She said something that would make sense to him. "Tired and hungry."

Nick was Italian. Italians hated the thought of someone going hungry.

"Oh yeah." His face smoothed out. There we go. He had something concrete he could do for her. "Wait till you see the food stocks. Let's get you settled and you can take a shower while I prepare lunch." He checked his watch. "Early dinner."

"I like that division of labor," Kay replied. "Food stocks? Are you guys preparing for the zombie apocalypse up here?"

They were crossing that big open-air plaza. The air smelled glorious, as it had on the gravel apron outside the deceptively forlorn shack. Outside it had smelled of pine, but in here it smelled of exotic flowers and plants. Looking up again, she could barely see whatever it was that covered the roof. Whatever it was, it let in sunshine and fresh air but wasn't cold. It was definitely warm inside.

Nick guided her around various plantings on a zigzagging route across the plaza. He kept a hand on her at all times and it felt wonderful. He kept her close enough so that his broad shoulders brushed hers as they walked and it almost felt like a transfer of strength and energy with each touch.

He looked up at the strange sky then over at her. "I personally believe the zombie apocalypse is coming, though sadly I seem to be alone in that. But a lot of us feel that if things ever go south, they'll go south fast, and it'll take time for things to get back to normal. Maybe even a generation. The place is organized to shelter at least two hundred people for a long time. It is almost completely self-sufficient in terms of energy and there are plans for growing food. Right now, it's a useful profit center with the server farm and it's a place where we can all celebrate holidays together. And at the moment," he said, with a sweep of his arm, "it's your new home."

Her new home. 

They were in an area that was meant to be communal. Various beautiful sofa and armchair groupings, cozy and inviting. A huge sofa in front of a massive horizontal gas fireplace at least fifty feet long. A billiard table, a grand piano, a bank of foosball tables. Against one wall, a 100-inch plasma curved TV that looked almost large enough for a commercial movie theater.

They might have to stay a generation but they wouldn't be bored. If Felicity was in any way involved, there'd be ebooks, streaming movies, TV series and, above all, video games on tap, and as much music as anyone could want.