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Because Major and Ravi's house was swarmed by reporters after Major's unexpected release from prison, they couldn't go home. Or, they could, but they would have had to answer a lot of awkward questions in the process. So Liv and Peyton agreed to put them up in their apartment, temporarily … on the condition that Major stop drumming on things.

It was a hard condition. Rhythms and beats were rolling in his head, pounding in his bloodstream, and he wanted to let them out, make them sing in the air. This was, bar none, the best brain he had ever been on, and he never wanted to go off it again. Just fall into the drumbeats and never come out.

He bellied up to the counter, watching Liv as she cut and chopped, prepping tacos. Like Taco Tuesday, once upon a time. Cooking had always eased Liv's mind and straightened out her thoughts. As a zombie, she was no different, regardless of what brain she was on. There was a rhythm to her knife strokes, and Major tapped it out against the counter's edge with a pair of chopsticks, barely aware that he was doing it.

She emptied the contents of the cutting board into the pan, the vegetables and brains sizzling up immediately with a mouth-watering scent. Watching her, Major was glad they were in this together, all the secrets and hard thoughts that had lain between them erased. Liv was the best friend he had ever had. He never wanted to lose that again, whatever happened.

"Thanks for letting Ravi and me stay here," he told her, wanting to make sure he let her know how grateful he was rather than leave it to be assumed. He really didn't know what he would have done without her in this situation—his house was absolutely out of the question. "I drove by my place—my front yard is still occupied by reporters and lookie-loos."

Liv gestured at him with her butcher knife, making him aware that he was still drumming the air with the chopsticks, which he hadn't noticed until now. "I know you're still rolling on drummer brain," she said, "but you need to switch to this. Janko brain."

Having met Janko more than once, Major didn't feel much like sticking himself with that humorless bastard's brains. No, thanks. He'd keep drumming, keep on keeping time.

Sensing his reluctance from his silence, Liv continued, "Vaughn sent Janko to kill me. it's pretty clear he wants both of us eliminated. We need to stay alive long enough to rescue Drake and the rest of your kidnapped zombies from Vaughn's basement. Our best chance is you joining me on this soldier-for-hire brain."

Major put down the chopsticks and picked up his coffee cup. Liv was right. He didn't want to agree with her, but … he couldn't help it. Much as he wanted to continue hiding in the beat from what he had to do, he couldn't leave her to face this situation herself. "I know," he told her. "Look, we need to get them all out. I promised our district attorney he'd see his kid again. And there was this woman, Natalie. I promised her I'd be the first thing she saw when she defrosted."

Looking at Liv's still, pale face, her eyes wide, he wished he could take that back, keep what had passed between himself and Natalie—that spark, that connection—private, and not parade in front of Liv that he had been moved by another woman. Yes, she had a boyfriend who was in that basement, and she seemed determined to get him back … but this was hardly the time to let her know that he had been thinking of moving on himself.

He dropped his eyes, not knowing what to say.

Fortunately for both of them, Ravi and Peyton came in with groceries just then.

"I can't believe that murdering little troll is just going to get away with everything," Peyton was saying.

"Well, let's hope karma bites Mr. Boss in the arse," Ravi remarked, following her into the apartment.

"What's up?" Major asked.

"The Major officially shut down the Mr. Boss task force, what with my star witness, Blaine, losing his memory," Peyton admitted reluctantly. "And you know that smug son-of-a-bitch is going to take this as a sign that he can do whatever he wants."

Ravi frowned, trying to parse her sentence. "Uh … Blaine or Mr. Boss?"

Peyton rolled her eyes at him and turned toward the kitchen, just as the handle ripped off the bag of groceries she was holding and it dropped onto the tile floor.

They all stared at it for a moment, and then Liv asked, softly, "Eggs?"

Glaring at the ruined groceries, Peyton said, "Seriously, could anyone be having a worse day than me?"

Liv gestured at the frying pan, where the taco ingredients were cooking down, smelling delicious. "Janko's day is going pretty badly."

"Actually, that kind of makes me feel better." Peyton opened the fridge and took out a bottle of wine. "But not as much as this will." Gesturing to the pan with her chin, she asked, "Is there any of that for non-zombies?"

"No, but there can be. While you're in there, hand me some peppers and an onion."

"And we'll take care of the groceries," Ravi said, gently nudging Peyton out of the kitchen once she had handed Liv the vegetables. "You go sit down and put your feet up."

"I'm not pregnant, Ravi, just pissed."

"Relaxing on the couch is good for both," he told her.

Major listened to them, picking up the chopsticks and letting the rhythm of the conversation flow through him. If he had to trade drummer brains for mercenary brains, he was going to enjoy them as long as they lasted.