Swallow (Kindred Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  The whole point of her being at CI, of being near to Grant, was to pick up on warnings that disaster might be about to strike again. This was as close to a signed neon telegram as they would ever get. It was starting all over again. The Kindred had a new mission, but had no chief and no assassin.

  Before panic could set in, she cleared her thoughts and tried to be pragmatic. She needed to know what Grant knew about Sutcliffe and why he had attacked Purdy’s, as well as what his next move might be.

  As terrifying as the prospect was, she faced the fact that whatever Albert Sutcliffe wanted, whatever revenge he wanted to exact, it was going to be on her shoulders to dig them out of the mess because Brodie had proved to her tonight that she couldn’t rely on him to take care of business.

  Instead of admitting to Grant that she planned to keep Brodie’s secrets, she steered them back to the more relevant issue. “Start at the beginning,” she said, shuffling her chair an inch closer to his. “How do you know that this is Sutcliffe?”

  “He claimed responsibility,” Grant said. “I got the news of the murder of my VP within an hour of finding out my housekeeper was dead. Just as I began to fear it might be retribution, he called me.”

  The notion was so banal it was bizarre. “Sutcliffe called you on the phone?”

  Grant nodded. “He said their deaths were just the beginning.” Pushing out his chair, Grant sauntered into the kitchen without invitation to refill his coffee mug. “He wants payback,” he called back to her over his shoulder. “He lost his nephew and two of his men and thinks that we deliberately screwed him out of a deal. He’s back to have his revenge.”

  A chill shot through her with the velocity of a backdraft. “Revenge? But I thought—“

  “That after three months of silence we might have gotten away with it? So did I,” he said, opening cupboard doors to seek something out.

  She hadn’t been going to say that. Sutcliffe wouldn’t just pack up his toys and declare himself the loser. What she’d been going to say was that she thought Sutcliffe would come after her or Brodie first. Then again, Grant had been the point man, the man who made the deal and didn’t deliver. Sutcliffe probably believed that the whole thing was a setup.

  “Do you have anything stronger than coffee?” Grant asked, still hunting through her kitchen.

  They weren’t going to get boozed up and he was driving, so although she did have alcohol in the house, she shook her head. “I don’t think that getting liquored up is the answer,” she said, closing her other hand over the top of her empty coffee mug. “Talk to me, Grant. Why is Sutcliffe after you? Did you pay him his money back?”

  He refilled his mug. “Of course I did,” he said, coming over with his new coffee. “But it’s not money they want.”

  “What do they want?”

  Sutcliffe was using those in his cult to his full advantage, which meant any stranger could be a threat. At least she didn’t have to worry about Brodie’s well-being while he was locked up. The manor was a fortress.

  “Sutcliffe believes we made a fool out of him and he wants his revenge,” Grant said, seating himself.

  There was that word again. “Revenge, but…” she said. “Who do they want revenge against? You?” If Sutcliffe put all of the blame on Grant then it made sense that her boss was the cult leader’s focus. But that made the Kindred’s position murkier, would Brodie and Tuck agree to protect Grant? Did she want them to?

  His silence begat her frown, but his eyes made a slow ascent to hers, although he didn’t raise his chin. “Not just against me, Zara.”

  Being explicit wasn’t required. Brodie was the one who killed Sutcliffe’s kin and she was the one who betrayed the details of the deal and brought the Kindred into the game. “Against me too?” she asked.

  “You were there. Everyone who was there is at risk.” Sutcliffe had already killed Art. He’d killed two people close to Grant. That probably meant she, Brodie, and Tuck were next. “Three of Sutcliffe’s men are dead, including his nephew, and he doesn’t have the device he needs to carry out his plan.”

  FIVE

  The device. Revenge for the humiliation was anticipated, but if it turned out that Sutcliffe planned to carry out his original plan that meant none of the risk had abated and Grant McCormack was still a major threat. Whether Grant would be honest about his crucial role in facilitating Sutcliffe’s plan needed to be tested.

  “Do you think...?” she asked, but there was no subtle way to get the answer. “Is he still planning to use Game Time?”

  Grant opened his mouth and took a loud breath. “When he called to claim responsibility for the murders of my VP and housekeeper, he told me that he’d give me a chance to make it better. A chance to make it right.”

  Zara didn’t like the way panic tasted in her throat, it squeezed and contorted the inside of her chest until she almost felt like she was drowning. Their work to intercept the deal, Art’s death, it would all mean nothing if Sutcliffe got his hands on Game Time anyway. Grant wouldn’t stand up to the criminal, she wasn’t even sure that he wanted to. If the way he was talking to her now was any measure, he hadn’t learned any lessons. He’d been on Sutcliffe’s side before, and she feared that hadn’t changed.

  If Sutcliffe came for her, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself. There was nothing secret about her involvement or her allegiance; he’d witnessed her loyalty in the Atlas warehouse. She had to stay alive long enough to warn the Kindred.

  Leaping to her feet, she dashed over to the windows to draw all of the curtains closed. She didn’t relish severing the visual link the manor had with her apartment, but the risk of assassination was too great.

  Tonight, at Purdy’s, she’d killed Elvis. She’d believed it was necessary self-defense, now she feared retribution. If the dead musicians’ gang were indeed Sutcliffe’s men then Brodie wasn’t the only one to have taken the lives of Sutcliffe’s people anymore.

  Without Kindred backup, staying alive might mean bending to Sutcliffe’s will. If he gave her the chance to pay him back for the slight. Sutcliffe had extended that chance to Grant. But Sutcliffe still needed the CI CEO if he wanted to get his hands on the Game Time device. To get it, Grant needed her because the original shipment was still in the Kindred’s possession.

  Brodie wasn’t at his peak, but she could rely on Tuck. Once she explained what was going on, he would come up with a plan.

  Sidelining her survival instinct, she pushed for more information. Grant could shut down at any time. “Why wait three months?” she asked, turning her back to the wall between two of her tall curtained windows.

  Her role in the Kindred had always been one of information gathering. They were all in this terrible situation together—her, Grant, and the Kindred. Last time, Grant hadn’t known about her links to his brother, now he did, so she didn’t have to mislead him about why she was asking so many questions.

  Sutcliffe may lump the group from Atlas together as one entity. Anyone who wasn’t with him was against him. If he did, she would have to act as liaison between Grant and the Kindred because the factions wouldn’t be inclined to play nice with each other.

  “What do you mean?”

  Edging toward the table, she noticed he hadn’t touched his refilled drink. “Where has Sutcliffe been?” she asked. “Why didn’t he come after us straight away?”

  “You remember he hurt his leg at the warehouse?” Grant asked and she nodded. “It was broken when he leaped aside to dodge the sniper’s bullet.” The sniper being Brodie. Although Grant’s tone became accusing, she made no apology, so he moved on. “Sutcliffe had to have surgery and he developed an infection. His injuries bought us time, but he’s better now and… I underestimated how fervent his followers are.”

  Sitting beside him again, she remained intent. “His followers?” she asked, moving the cups aside to inch toward him.

  “Albert Sutcliffe is the last of his affluent family. His brother died years ago. Tim was his only remaining bloo
d relative… Maybe some of his anger comes from that loss.”

  Albert Sutcliffe had been angry long before he lost his nephew. But she could understand that bereavement didn’t encourage rational thinking. Brodie and Grant were not poster children for adopting healthy outlets for grief, so they could hardly judge Sutcliffe for being the same way.

  One glaring fact cast doubt on Grant’s assumption. “If it was payback for Tim,” Zara said, “Sutcliffe wouldn’t be coming after you. You didn’t kill him.”

  Brodie killed Tim Sutcliffe, and he’d declared it in the Atlas warehouse within earshot of Sutcliffe. But getting to Brodie posed more of a challenge than getting to Grant did. Grant was active in public every day, as was she, Brodie was inside a security protected mansion.

  “Sutcliffe uses his people to do the dirty work,” Grant said. “I paid back the money he gave me for the product, but it wasn’t enough. He’s still angry, and his people are pissed off. I don’t know what they’re planning. But it’s all linked, I can feel it.”

  Being on the outside must be unsettling for Grant. He’d been in control when he was selling Game Time, now he was being hunted and he didn’t have the skills to defend himself. Neither did she, but she tried to get into Sutcliffe’s head to play the sequence of events in the Atlas warehouse from his perspective.

  He’d arrived full of optimism because he expected to get his hands on the device he’d paid for, his plans were all coming together. Except he’d walked away with nothing, meaning his subsequent plan was shot to shit. He probably thought Game Time had been a ruse to get him into a vulnerable position so that Raven could take him out.

  “They think it was a setup,” she muttered to herself.

  Grant reacted to her musing with annoyance. “It was a setup,” he snapped. “I didn’t know it. I was just duped like Sutcliffe was. But he doesn’t believe me. You could’ve told me—“

  “I couldn’t have warned you,” she said, though she probably wouldn’t have even if she had known Brodie and the others were around. But technicalities mattered in subterfuge. “I didn’t know what the Kindred were planning. I wasn’t on the inside.”

  She might have walked away with the Kindred at the end, but she hadn’t arrived in the warehouse with them. Raven’s kill shots were as much of a surprise to her as they were to everyone else.

  “Why not?”

  Again, she did not intend to reveal the inner workings of her intimate relationship, or of the group they were affiliated to. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, unmoved by his annoyance because she still carried so much of her own toward him. “I did try to reason with you. I told you that selling Game Time wasn’t a good idea, that the results would be disastrous. But you weren’t listening. You were blinded by your reaction to Frank’s death and so determined to rebel against your father.” The offense in Grant’s eyes made her retreat from her attacking position because she didn’t need conflict in their relationship now, not when she needed him for information. “Sorry.” It wasn’t in her nature to condemn a person when the past couldn’t be changed anyway. “Your motivation, your family… none of it is my business.”

  “Isn’t it?” Grant asked and reached for his mug, probably as a distraction because she could tell by his pique that he was pissed. “If you marry my brother…”

  “Even if I do marry your brother, it’s not like you and he have a conventional relationship, is it?”

  Marriage was improbable when she couldn’t get Brodie to sleep in the same bed as her most nights. But their relationship issues weren’t high priority. Sure, she was hurt that Brodie had ignored her call and she was angry that he was busy wallowing while the rest of them were being attacked. But she loved him and she’d made her peace with being patient. Raven had taken his time to come clean with her when they first met. Brodie would get there. He would come back to her, in his own time.

  “What else did Sutcliffe say when you spoke to him?” she asked. “Did he give you any indication of what he meant about giving you a chance to make it right?”

  They returned to their neutral state. Grant didn’t appear to want to fight any more than she did. “He hasn’t given up on his cause. He’s going to want the device from us, I’m almost sure of it. I think that giving it to him will be the only way we can prove that we weren’t part of the scheme to take him down.”

  The gravity of that admission made her sag back into her chair. Grant delivered the line without any compunction, but she couldn’t believe this nightmare was back. Sutcliffe had ideals he planned to impose on the world. For some reason, he believed Game Time was the way to make his point.

  Obtaining the device had been his singular focus and he’d lost his nephew Tim in that pursuit. Pride or anger motivated this return to their lives, making him all the more dangerous to them. He’d lost henchmen and been embarrassed. Getting over that humiliation would require those he considered responsible bowing down and giving him what he wanted.

  The raid tonight didn’t fit with Sutcliffe’s ultimate goal, which supported Grant’s theory that it was for their benefit. Meaning lives had been put at risk just because she and Grant wanted to go for a drink.

  “What was tonight?” she asked. “In Purdy’s, why do you think that was him?”

  “It would be a coincidence if it wasn’t, don’t you think? Men wielding guns, threatening to kill in our presence, picking you out. It’s Sutcliffe, or we have the worst luck in the world.”

  A coincidence, the word reminded her of something Art had said and she had to concur with Grant’s thinking. “You have to find out what he wants,” she said. “You have to get in touch with him and—“

  “Albert needs money to support his cause, you heard what those guys said about ransom.”

  Elvis had referred to payment in exchange for lives. Terrorizing and injuring people just to make a buck was quite dramatic, but she could believe it of Albert Sutcliffe. Elvis had said that they planned to be there all night. Holding people hostage with the spotlight of the media trained on the event would no doubt give Sutcliffe a kick. Severe egotism was a requirement for any man who wanted to take over the world.

  “Hurting people isn’t the way to achieve his aims,” she said, but had no faith that Grant would stand up to Sutcliffe.

  Exploring the nothingness between them with his keen eyes, Grant was obviously trying to make sense of this whole affair as well. “I plan to talk to him, as soon as I can. But I don’t plan to chastise him.”

  She hadn’t expected him to voice opposition to Sutcliffe, but she hadn’t expected him to admit cowardice, which led her to believe cowardice wasn’t what he was express. Panic began to pulse on her larynx again. Was it simply that Grant was afraid of Albert Sutcliffe and didn’t want to invite his wrath? Or was there a part of Grant that still believed in Sutcliffe’s cause as he’d claimed to her he did.

  Grant had received the harshest of consequences yet, he’d lost a VP, and lost his housekeeper, then tonight in Purdy’s he’d been robbed and shot at. It wouldn’t have escaped his keen notice that she, Brodie, and the others were as yet unscathed—other than the loss of Art. Though she doubted Grant cared too much about losing his uncle, he could argue with Brodie that he too had been a victim of grief after Art was murdered.

  “You need a plan beyond getting in touch with him. You have to know what you’re going to say to him, what you’re going to offer in an attempt to placate him? And what if he never returns your call? Are you going to let his cult take you down?”

  Grant’s shoulders broadened, suggesting she’d aroused his interest. “Why do you call it a cult?”

  To get a little, she had to give a little. “Because Art did,” she said, sliding her hands over the surface of the table. “He told me most of what I knew about your Game Time clients.”

  A smile clipped onto his face that was curious given the circumstances. “Forgive me,” he said, scratching a finger over his mouth in an attempt to conceal his smirk. “Sorry, it’s just
funny. We haven’t talked about what happened and hearing that you were familiar with Art, it’s… it’s unexpected.”

  “Maybe we should,” she said, realizing she had some ground to gain in winning her boss’s trust again and she’d need it if they wanted to get through this.

  “We should,” he said, and slid his open palm across the wooden surface to finagle his fingers between hers. “We could get dinner and—“

  Talking was just that for her and she wouldn’t send mixed signals. “I can’t,” she said, withdrawing her hand to tuck it down on her lap.

  “Right,” he said and his eyes darted away in a show of impatience that matched his sigh. “You know, you’re never going to have a normal life with him. It might be fun and exciting now, but soon you’re going to realize that he doesn’t fulfill you. He can’t give you what you want.”

  Irked enough that she wanted to defend her man and her relationship, she slunk onto her feet and let her frosty stature say what she wanted to convey. With the ongoing situation, she couldn’t risk alienating her boss further when there was already damage control needed. But that didn’t give him the right to pass judgment on something he didn’t understand, and he seemed to take every opportunity he could to do that.

  “My relationship is fine, and he does give me what I want.”

  Grant couldn’t claim to know her heart any better than she did. Brodie was the only man who had made her feel the way he did and her heart ached with the weight of grief he carried. She wasn’t going to play games and start going to frequent social occasions with his brother. If nothing else, Brodie would think she was trying to get a reaction from him and that would only annoy him, as it would annoy her if the situation was reversed.