“Ok,” she asked. “So how do we placate him? We have two major problems, his desire for revenge, and his plot with Game Time—whatever that may be.”
Zave made eye contact with Brodie, who then looked to Tuck. Thad seemed to be as clueless as she was and she began to wonder at his purpose. Why was he a member of the Kindred when he clearly didn’t have the skill or the savvy that these other men did?
“That’s where you come in, Swallow,” Tuck said, making eye contact with Zave and Brodie again.
“Me?” she asked and when none of the men would look her in the eye, hers narrowed with suspicion. Her sinuses tingled and fingers chilled. “You’re going to send me into the fire again, aren’t you?”
Affronted, Brodie landed her in his sights. “You never went into the fire in the first place,” Brodie said. “And if you believe that you did for a second then you don’t belong at this table.”
She was getting impatient with the way he kept dismissing her tonight, snapping and disrespecting her. He had something to say, or he had something on his mind, and it was about time he got it off his chest or shut up about it for good. But that was an argument she would save for later when they were alone.
“Ok. But I’m going to suggest something obvious, like asking Grant or approaching Sutcliffe and you… one of you is going to suggest something ridiculous like hiring a hot air balloon and buying radioactive tracking devices that we’ll shoot from a harpoon into some obscure bacteria carried in our bodies or—“
“Enough,” Brodie said. “Nothing obscure.”
“We’re gonna take a trip,” Tuck said.
“A trip?” she asked. “Where are we going?”
“Not you,” Brodie said. “You’re staying here.”
She didn’t want to be cut out of the loop, but no one questioned his deadpan command and Tuck carried on. “We’re gonna stakeout Sutcliffe and find out what we can about his property,” he said. “We have to find a way in.”
“A way in?” she said, almost disbelieving her ears. As far as she was concerned, the idea was to uproot and oust Sutcliffe, not get cozy in his house.
“Grant is Sutcliffe’s bitch,” Brodie said. “He’s useless to us. He can tuck tail and run. I met the fancy security guys he hired to take a bullet for him when I was outside CI listening to the bugs earlier today.”
Now she knew where the bruise on his chin had come from and it annoyed her that Grant might have sent these guys for Brodie if he noticed him loitering outside. It seemed so cowardly to send others, rather than face his own brother.
Grant hadn’t even told her that there were more men prowling around the building than usual, which was probably a deliberate choice on her boss’s part. “He hired extra security?” she asked.
“Personal security,” Brodie said. From the disgust plastered on his face, she’d guess if he could physically spit on the ground then he would have done it. “He hired Griffin Caine.”
Brodie’s nemesis. Zara was surprised by that revelation, and wished that Brodie had told her about it in the closet earlier when they were alone. “Just like him to insinuate himself into something like this,” Tuck said.
The men fixated on her and said nothing, which made her squirm. She’d suppose that’s why Brodie was in such a shitty mood and what he, Zave, and Tuck had been whispering about at the window.
“I don’t care,” Brodie said, breaking the silence. “As long as Caine is keeping Saint safe, he’s not watching what we’re doing, is he? And we don’t care if he fails the mission.”
The others sniggered, but she was distracted by that idea, what would happen if someone hurt Grant, if someone killed him? What would happen to Sutcliffe’s plot? To CI? And how would Brodie deal with losing another relative, no matter how distant the relationship was?
“You’re right,” Tuck said and his words brought her back to the present. “We can forget about Caine, he’s been biting our heels so long I’m sort of used to it.”
Brodie took charge. “We eliminate threats. That’s what we do. Sutcliffe and his cult are a danger to the Kindred. We don’t have to make this more complicated than that.”
It made sense, but she didn’t like to see that detached scowl on his face when she’d just managed to chase it away. “And you believe that Sutcliffe is going to come after you?” she asked.
Brodie wasn’t the type to be scared of anything, but she could understand him wanting to take the fight to Sutcliffe rather than to sit on his ass and wait for the maniac to pounce on him. Still, she was terrified about what would happen in a direct confrontation. Sutcliffe had killed Art just to distract those that might pursue him and thwart his escape. She couldn’t lose Brodie. She just couldn’t.
“He’s coming after you,” Brodie said. He was still sullen, but on discovering that some of his crappy mood came from his concern for her well-being, her heart lightened. “That’s enough reason for me to hand him his ass.”
“Young love,” Thad said with a theatrical sigh that earned him a glare from Brodie.
Hiding her own smile, she estimated that Thad was younger than everyone else at the table. He was the most fresh faced at any rate and seemed the most optimistic.
Ignoring Thad, Tuck was the most mission minded and brought them back to point. “We can leave in the morning,” Tuck said. “Zave and I will put the gear together tonight.”
Thad wasn’t back to serious yet. “Get ready to get your geek on,” Thad muttered from the corner of his mouth, then sloped his body toward her. “When those two get together in any room with tech, they always come up with new gadgets.”
“You complaining?” Tuck asked with raised brows as he cleaned his plate. “You love playing with toys. I just made a fresh batch of chips. They’re all ready for programming. What will we make them do, Falc?"
Thad was beyond caring about the mission, or the prep needed for it. He extended his arms high over his head to stretch. “I thought I might get the chance to pry some money out of you fellas,” he said, straining his voice when he overextended. “I brought cash.”
The others at the table sniggered and she enjoyed seeing them relax into a banter with each other. “You may as well hand it over,” Brodie said. “Have you ever won a poker night?”
He straightened up, exuding triumph. “I’ve been practicing,” Thad said, not dejected by the jibe. “I got a league going at the hospital.”
Her smile faltered over this new fact. “Hospital?” she asked
“Thad is a real MD,” Brodie explained.
“Yeah,” Thad said. “You and me are the only two with real jobs around here, Zara. We’ve got to carry the rest of them, teach them responsibility, you know.”
Zave was impossible to get a measure of, she’d try to get more of his story from Brodie, and then try to draw some conclusions. Whereas Thad was as normal as they came, and in their bleak lives, that was something real.
While everyone was in a good mood, she probed further. “Do you live with Zave and Bess on the island?” she asked.
“My mom stays with me sometimes, when she wants to go shopping or take in a show,” Thad said, propping his elbows on the table to rest his chin on his joined hands. “I have an apartment in Seattle. It’s the only way I can hold down a job. And parking the chopper at the hospital everyday would be cost prohibitive.”
Her intake of breath was almost childish glee because she hadn’t expected that incredible revelation. “You have a helicopter?”
He appeared as happy about it as she was. “Zave does,” Thad said, nodding his way. “But we both fly.”
Turning her wondrous eyes on Brodie, she begged for a trip without words because her previous experience with a helicopter carried negative connotations, she’d like to try it without the threat of impending trauma hanging over her head.
Brodie sighed. “Can we fix this mess before you leave me for another guy just ‘cause he has a better ride?”
Though his tone was dry, she suspected he
was teasing, and so showed her teeth in a wide smile as she slunk out of her chair to creep around to him. “Baby, I wouldn’t trade your ride for anything,” she purred, and he accepted her onto his lap when she pressured her hand on his shoulder. “You know what seeing you on your bike does to me.” Nuzzling him, she kissed his cheek then the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah, she’s easy to please,” he said, scooping one arm around her torso and sliding a hand up her skirt. She kept placing short, soft kisses on his face.
“How do you get the bike into the bedroom?” Thad asked.
“Who needs a bedroom?” Brodie asked, prying her legs further apart and increasing the urgency of his intemperate groping.
Taking her mouth away from his before he could take control of their kiss. She couldn’t be too eager for him because if he were in the mood, he would deliver what she wanted, and not give a crap about their audience.
“While we have this many guests we do,” she said, disappointed and trying without success to remove his hand from her leg. If he got where he was going, she might have to drag him away from their guests. Dinner was basically over and she had some paperwork to do. Giving Brodie and the boys a chance to bond without a female spying on them would hopefully give her love another boost of progress in his recovery from isolation. “Are you staying down here with the boys or are you in the mood for some private entertainment?”
“You can’t go to bed, not yet,” Thad said. “We just got here.” Scanning the room, he laughed. “Though being here isn’t far from being at home.”
Zave’s house on the west coast island was a duplicate of this one and it had to be strange to travel to a place that was identical to the one you’d departed from, even though they were on opposite sides of the country.
“I’d love to come and visit your place one day,” she said, circling her arms around Brodie’s neck.
“Zave’s place,” Thad said. “And mom would have you in a heartbeat. She loves to spoil guests.”
Odd that Zave should have people in his house when he was even less social than Brodie. “So you don’t have the same aversion to visitors that my man does?”
Thad laughed again. “Zave despises people,” he said. “But he has regular… lodgers.”
Being cryptic must be a Kindred requirement, because she was confused. “Lodgers?” None of the men offered further explanation. “Is this something to do with your custom suite?”
“Right, baby, that’s enough,” Brodie said, boosting her off his lap and smacking her ass. “Go on up to bed. I’ll come up soon.”
Art gave her answers. The rest of them just gave her more questions. But one of the first things Art had taught her was not to corner Brodie in company.
There was still food on the table and these were active men, so they’d probably eat more, giving her a reprieve from clean up duty.
“Ok,” she said and bent to kiss him. Having a night with the boys would level his mood and his thinking. Passing Zave without acknowledgement, she welcomed Tuck’s hand on her waist when she dipped to kiss his cheek.
“You need anything?” Tuck asked, looking her in the eye.
“No, just look after him.”
“Do I get a kiss?” Thad asked.
She got as far as a smile, Brodie got to speaking before she did. “Not a chance, Wren. And none of that, ‘I’m a doctor so I see the naked form all the time’ either. Go to bed, baby.”
It was nice that he was possessive; she just wished she knew what it meant. After Art, she gave Brodie space to grieve. Now that he was coming out the other side of that grief and had a job to focus on, Zara wasn’t going to let their relationship be sidelined and that meant she’d have to be proactive about going after what she wanted.
THIRTEEN
She watched TV in the bedroom for a while after completing her paperwork and returned some emails from Brodie’s laptop, which was security protected up the wazoo. No one would be able to trace her email origin from that machine. After that, she took the opportunity to soak in the tub before wrapping herself in the blankets on the warm bed.
Zara had no clue of the time when she stirred to the taste of liquor-flavored kisses and his heavy hand resting on her pubis while his fingers massaged her clit.
“Come on, pretty baby. Wake up,” he mumbled on her mouth and his weight covered her when she turned onto her back.
“Baby,” she grumbled and tried to clear her throat, but his tongue coaxed its way into her mouth. Surrendering to the inevitable, she dug her nails in and returned his kiss.
“You want me to stop?” he asked, lifting his body to shove the covers out from between them.
“Even if I say yes, you should keep going.”
His gruff laugh fogged the air between their mouths. He pulled her legs apart and slid a finger into her as he took his home position between her thighs. “That’s what I love about you, baby, you mix it up and keep me guessing.”
She kept him guessing? The idea made her freeze for half a beat. But his fingers slipped out from inside her and he pressured one inner her thigh at the same time his belt buckle clinked. Zara opened her legs for him and pushed her shoulders back in blissful anticipation of his mouth arriving on her naked body. But before she could fall into the embrace of the ecstasy he usually offered in bed, he brushed his lips across her cheekbone to settle them against her ear.
“Why are you still here?”
The whispered question jarred her from the welcome haze of sleep and hormones, and she tried to push him back enough so that she could look him in the eye to judge just how drunk he was. But he didn’t stay close, and she frowned when he reared back and sat in the center of the bed.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, using her fists to bring herself upright.
Rubbing his jaw, he inhaled and his drowsy eyes betrayed that he was intoxicated. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said and his hand left his face to float toward hers, but before he could make contact, it fell away.
She was no stranger to Drunk Brodie. She’d met him on a night she’d feared they would never recover from—the night of Art’s death. Since then he’d been a regular visitor. Sometimes Drunk Brodie just went quiet and got pensive. Other times, he got violent. Never towards her, he focused his rage on something inanimate that she had to rescue from being annihilated. Those times did lead to some rather physical fuck sessions. On rare occasions, like this one was shaping up to be, he would talk.
Any conversation about their relationship was one that she wanted to be a part of. Sober Brodie was an honest guy who knew how to keep secrets. Drunk Brodie didn’t have the same filters. “Don’t talk crazy,” she said, tossing the bunched covers away with the intention of kneeling up, but he snatched the corner she’d just cast aside and threw it over her to cover her naked body. “What is wrong with you?”
He wasn’t feeling sorry for himself or fishing for compliments, he was pissed at her and at himself. He was most comfortable being angry or aggressive, so those seemed to be his go-to places. But he’d never had a problem with her naked form being on show in his bedroom before.
“I treat you like shit,” he grumbled.
“No, you don’t,” she said, scooting her ass down enough that she could squeeze her hand over his on the bed. “You’re grieving.”
His glower made him look dangerous and she wondered if Drunk Brodie was still a crack shot. “Which only makes this relationship more crazy,” he said, shaking his head and running a hand over his hair to clench his fist at the back of his neck. “I was a bastard before… now I ain’t got nothing to keep me sane.”
That he was being this honest about his insecurities made her feel closer to him. If this was going to last, he had to be transparent and prove he trusted her more than anyone, even more than the other Kindred members.
“You’ve got me,” she said, slipping her hand up his arm to cup his face. She rose onto her knees and kissed him. “I’ll keep you sane.”
“A
nd I’ll drive you insane,” he said.
For a quarter of a year, she’d worried about him, his health, his sanity, his eating habits; now he was proving he was putting her ahead of all those needs. The sentiment was touching, but she wasn’t going to give up her responsibilities. She wanted to look after this man, to value him above everything else because when he was ready, and if he chose her, he’d exalt her welfare up into a stratosphere beyond any she could reach.
“I am not going to let you self-destruct,” she whispered, trying to bolster him. “I know you’re a good man.”
He whipped his hand out from under hers then shifted away to sit on the far edge of the bed with his back to her. “You don’t know me,” he mumbled. “You don’t get it… you don’t get it at all.”
Climbing out from beneath the covers, she crawled over to hook both arms around him from behind and then hung over his shoulder to kiss his cheek. “I want to get it,” she said. “I promised Art that I wouldn’t let you push me away.”
An idea struck her while he was reflecting on her words. She jumped off the bed to head for the closet, but he caught her wrist and she ricocheted back, sinking to her knees between his feet.
He was scowling. “When did you tell him that?”
“On the day we lost him,” she said. “Tuck told me that he and Art talked about us, he said you lied about Quebec to push me away.”
He flung her wrist out of his grip. “Nice to know you all enjoyed gossiping.”
Slapping her hands onto his thighs, she straightened her legs to stand but stayed bent so she could kiss him, but he didn’t return her kiss. He pushed her aside and got to his feet.
“You think I don’t know you?” she asked, folding her arms, she considered him as he strode away toward the door.
He paused and his voice became clearer than it had been. “I think you have limited experience. I’m bad for you.”
Considering this, she concluded he could be right, but this wasn’t the first time she’d thought about what her future with him would be. She’d spent plenty of time alone with him, in bed, and here in his house. She knew his brother and his upbringing. She knew he’d killed… but she hadn’t seen him in action or heard his life story in his own words.
Swallow (Kindred Book 2) Page 15
