As confident and aloof as ever, he took a breath. “What’s there to worry about? You think there’s any situation I wouldn’t be able to handle?”
Maybe not. But not having him near to her was enough to leave Zara unsettled. Hearing his cockiness, she smiled, Brodie was a warrior who could adapt and handle any combat situation. “Where are you? What’s going on?”
He didn’t waste time gushing, he got to the point. “We need you here,” he said. She sat up to blink at the empty bedroom.
Brodie hadn’t wanted her with them, hadn’t wanted her anywhere near the op and now he was issuing not an invitation, but an order for her to attend.
“Ok,” she said, twisting to let her legs dangle from the bed. “Where?”
“Tuck has emailed your ticket. Someone will pick you up at the airport.”
“Someone?” she asked, piqued by his ambiguity. “Like someone I know?”
“Probably not,” he said. “The details are in Tuck’s message. It’s waiting for you downstairs. Pack what you need and get moving. Your plane leaves in an hour.”
Brodie had a way of knowing just how to motivate her. Leaping off the bed, she cast off her clothes, while trying to maintain her link with her love. “How do you know where I am?” she asked.
“There’s a tracker in your phone,” he said, but she already knew that. “And there are some internal cameras.”
His voice got lower and his teasing was enough for her to cast her eyes upward, then left and right. “You can see me?” She had no idea there were cameras inside their rooms at the manor, but Art had told her the building held secrets.
“You got too damn close to playing with what’s mine, baby. You keep your hands off that pussy. I control your pleasure. I say when and where you get off.”
She wished she’d known sooner that he was watching her when she was here in their bedroom. Knowing it now made her feel closer to him and she might have been inclined to put on a show if he was the only one watching. “You’re a creep,” she said, but couldn’t keep the smile away from her face. “I hope your spy gear is private viewing.”
Reassuring her lasted only as long as it had to. Provoking her was more fun. The mischief in his voice caused tiny firecrackers to start sparking and bouncing in her belly. He wasn’t even in the same state as her and he was getting her wet. “My eyes only,” he said. “Want to tell me what you were thinking about?”
Getting her turn to tantalize him, she leaned back on one hand and with the other she traced a fingertip up her abdomen and over her breast where she circled her nipple until it pinched into a painful peak. “Come home to our bed and I’ll tell you every detail.”
“Soon, baby,” he said, humoring her. “You’ve got to shift your ass into gear, there isn’t much time.”
Then there was no time for recreation, which was a shame because after a week without it, she was in need of some naked and sweaty recreation. “Why am I hurrying?” she asked, pouncing to her feet in response to his urgency. “Is there something wrong?”
“We’ll explain everything when you get here. There’s a window of opportunity, and we don’t want to miss it.”
“Opportunity for what?” she asked, hooking the phone between her shoulder and cheek so she could put her foot on the bed and roll off her stocking.
“You’re Kindred. You do whatever is asked of you.” He sounded angry. Something told her he wasn’t riled by her question, but by something else that he wasn't revealing.
Curious, she slid her foot off the bed and conceded haste in deference to concern. “If there’s something you want to tell me...”
“Just do as you’re told. Dress slutty and get yourself dolled up.”
She almost couldn’t believe her ears. Brodie had never asked her to wear makeup. She rarely wore much, and when she did it was conservative for business functions. “Makeup? Why do I need to wear makeup?” she asked because this was an easier question than to ask why he wanted her slutty.
“You’ll understand when you get here,” he said. “Get a move on. Time is short.”
And none of the time they did have was allocated for questions apparently because the line disconnected. She would have to trust that he’d reveal all when she got to them because she couldn’t return his call, not when he’d made it from an ‘unknown’ number.
Rushing to the closet, she dressed and packed as he’d directed then pulled out the makeup box to decorate herself. He was lucky she had this here and it was just luck. The box had been picked up by Tuck during one of their first runs to retrieve stuff from her apartment.
She didn’t have time to think twice about what she was doing. Thinking trampy, she got made up, dressed, and put her feet in a pair of spike heels that made her legs look incredible, but always hurt her feet.
The Chief of the Kindred had given her an order, and this was her chance to prove her loyalty to the team. So ignoring her nerves, she snatched her suitcase and hurried down the stairs to pick up Tuck’s message.
Slutty meant different things to different people, but she was pretty confident that she’d gotten the look right because she’d never had so much attention as she did at the airport and again on the plane.
Tuck’s message had included a picture of the guy who would pick her up. So when the rough-looking bearded man in the leather vest grabbed her arm in arrivals at the airport, she did her best to keep up with him and in five-inch heels, that wasn’t easy.
He stuffed her and her case into the back of a pick-up and drove off at high speed into darkness. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to know or who this unkempt guy was, so she didn’t try to make conversation.
He glanced her way more than a few times and she wasn’t surprised. The silver top she wore hung on a string around her neck with another going across the width of her back and that was it. Her hips and midriff were on display above the skimpy, black leather skirt she wore that clung to her ass.
Brodie told her to dress slutty and told her that she was at the beck and call of the Kindred. This was the most revealing outfit she had. Brodie was going to be impressed. But she was apprehensive about what she’d have to do in the name of the Kindred that required such an outfit.
After a week without her love, she would be happy if her show of skin encouraged him to take action. But her first question would be about this stranger who’d snatched her from the airport. She’d have preferred to have Brodie or one of the other guys come to pick her up.
After driving for so many miles that civilization was a distant memory, she observed the unlit road they were on and began to get nervous until a glowing light in the distance made her frown.
As they got closer, the outline of a single-story building with a corrugated roof and a black-painted timber frontage came into view. Weeds grew out from the foundations and the parking lot was little more than compacted dirt, though that was almost impossible to see beneath the hundred or so motorcycles that were parked in haphazard spots around the area.
Bumping off the asphalt highway, her driver maneuvered the truck between two metal poles that held up a chain-link fence, which seemed to be protecting the perimeter of the whole place. A gang of half a dozen stood around just inside the fence. The driver nodded at them and they lifted their hands in greeting. This was a pleasant exchange, but she wondered how they would react if the man wasn’t a friend. Or if she’d tried to come here on her own.
He drove the pick-up around until her door was parallel with the hooded entrance, though the door wasn’t highlighted in any way and there was no light to welcome her near.
“Go on, he’s through the back,” her driver said in a gruff voice that he punctuated with a smoker’s cough.
The driver rested an arm the length of the front seat when he was done hacking and she swallowed away her apprehension. She might not know this guy, but she’d rather enter this sinister place with someone than walk into it alone, especially since she had no idea if the Kindred were even here or not.
Showing vulnerability to the driver wasn’t an option and she couldn’t stay here all night. Calling Brodie on his Kindred number and hoping he’d pick up wasn’t possible either, her cell was in her suitcase. She didn’t want her lover to think her a pussy who was too afraid to enter such an ominous building anyway. She’d told Brodie that she wanted to be a part of the darkness and all that entailed, so she couldn’t discount the possibility that this was some sort of test.
Grabbing the handle of her case, the driver grunted. “Leave that.”
So she was to leave all of her possessions here with this stranger and walk into a building that looked like the end of the world.
Ok, she convinced herself that she could do this. In spite of the cauldron of dread swirling her guts into a heated frenzy, she thrust her shoulders back and spread her glossy lips in a wide smile. If she was supposed to be a slut then she had better start acting like one.
Shuffling to the door, she opened it and shimmied out, tugging her skirt down in the process. No sooner had she slammed the door than the truck trundled off, leaving her alone and freezing in this dark parking lot. Noise from inside carried to her, there was music and shouting. The track changed and in the brief moment of quiet, she picked out the sound of glass on glass, pool balls ricocheting, and heavy boots on wooden flooring. Ok, so this was a bar. A biker bar. Where else would Brodie feel more at home?
The men from the gate shouted and she was sure they were jeering her, but she wouldn’t turn to look over her shoulder. She wanted to get inside in one piece and starting a fight outside would put Brodie in a precarious position.
The building sounded busy and if the number of bikes was anything to go by, it was packed. If Brodie was in there, she had nothing to fear. If he wasn’t, she was monumentally screwed. But he would never have sent someone he didn’t trust to get her.
Telling herself to get a grip, she tottered forward and with every step, she grew in confidence. This was exciting. It was an opportunity to see inside Brodie’s world—rather, Raven’s world.
The music got louder. She stepped onto the low square porch and grabbed the dirty door handle. Giving the long, vertical bar a tug, a hard rock tune blasted when she opened the door. The smell of sweat, dirt, and grease mingled seamlessly with the scent of alcohol. Straightening one confident leg, she strutted into the room with her head held high.
Bikers were like dogs, they could smell fear, and she wouldn’t give them any hint that she was hesitant. Her driver had said through the back, so she kept moving and searched the back of the building for any clue as to where that might mean. Every table was busy, there was a crowd in a back corner, and she saw a flash of grubby green felt. The pool table wasn’t her goal and she was none the wiser as to where her goal was. She didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to give anyone the chance to talk to her.
Heading for the bar seemed to be a good plan, the bar man should be able to tell her where to find her party. As hard as she tried not to look at the patrons, she was aware that everyone she could see was male, heavy set, and mean looking. Taking a quick chance to scan the room, she couldn’t pick out a single female.
There was a bulky guy behind the bar and she drew her lip over her lower teeth to dampen it in preparation for speech. But when they made eye contact, he nodded sideways and she saw a curtain at the back of the room, perpendicular to the optics on the wall behind the bar. He reached over the bar and around to snag the curtain, which he pulled back just enough for her to duck through.
Expecting to go into a room containing only those she knew, she came up short. To the left were a trio of low couches set around a table only a couple of feet off the floor. The five guys there were strangers to her, so she cast her eyes right to the table bearing four men, one on each of its sides. Tuck was seated at the nine o’clock position. But her eyes caught on the guy sitting at six with his back to her. That was Brodie. Her automatic smile was joined by the urge to go to him.
The space was dark and smoke hung in a clear mist spanning the room. The music from the main bar pounded, but it was muted now that there was a wall between her and it. But she’d found what she was looking for.
Creeping over to the table, Tuck noticed her and raised his brows, but the other three at the table didn’t acknowledge her. The man sitting at twelve o’clock was fixated on Brodie, who didn’t give any indication he was going to turn around. The atmosphere was thick, she’d walked in on something going down, and she had no idea what it was.
Brodie’s hunched opponent had his dark hair slicked back and was peering at Brodie over his cards. Zara went to the table. The opponent glanced at her and his glower became a leer. Examining the tabletop, she saw chips, cash, keys, and a brown envelope in the center. Tuck and the guy opposite him had no cards, and Brodie’s were facedown under his loose hand.
“If that belongs to you, I’ll accept the bet,” the slick-haired guy said, drawing his eyes down over her figure.
Brodie leaned back, sliding his cards toward him as he did, but he didn’t lift them. A line of cigar smoke ascended from the stub in an ashtray just beside him. Having found Brodie, she didn’t feel any more reassured because this tense situation was probably the worst thing she could have walked into.
Without taking his eyes from his rival, Brodie grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him. Pulling her down onto one of his broad thighs, he draped his arm around her and she scratched her fingernails against him in her own greeting because he was still stuck on the guy opposite him. She did feel better being here, seated on him, with her legs nestled in the wide vee between his legs.
Stroking a hand around her waist, Brodie’s palm came around beneath her top and his knuckles grazed the underside of her breast in a maneuver that made her shiver. It had been a week since they’d been intimate and she’d missed him so much that her body was an exposed nerve ready to be stimulated by the man possessing her now.
Brodie picked up his cigar and took one long drag before resting it over the ashtray again.
“Who is she?” the opponent asked, still ogling her.
“Private property,” Brodie said, tipping his head back to blow his smoke into the cloud lingering above them.
The tension in her intimate center snapped, and a buzz of excitement spread across her hips. Nerves weren’t what consumed her. What she’d believed to be apprehension was arousal. Brodie was here, Tuck was on the other side of the table, there was nothing to fear. There might be five guys on the couches and two around this table who she didn’t know, and the allegiances of the strangers were all unclear, but she had utter faith that if it kicked off, Brodie and Tuck would get her out of here alive.
“Nothing is private here,” the guy said. “Everything you got is on this table.” He raised his brows and looked at the vast pot between the two of them. There were no chips beside any of the players, everything was on the table, and she glanced up to see that Tuck was intent on Brodie. “What you gonna do, Rave? Forfeit?”
“Not a chance,” Brodie muttered, setting a glare on his opponent that made her push herself closer.
“Then you got only one choice,” the cocky adversary said, straightening his form.
“Ok, Rigor,” Brodie said. He leaned down and angled her so he could kiss the side of her breast not covered by her top. He snagged her wrist and pulled her arm away from his neck as he jacked her up off his lap. When she was on her feet, he smacked her ass, but she didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what to do. “She’s on the table.”
Horror fixed her eyes wide on her love. “What?” she snapped.
The word was instinct and as Brodie’s rival laughed, she glanced back at the door, considering retreat. “You got nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” Rigor said. “I’ll treat you better than your man here.”
The fourth guy at the table pounced up to his feet, and Tuck wasn’t too far behind, though the fourth guy got to her first. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her around the table, bu
t she tried to resist. “Let me go!”
“Quiet!” Brodie called out. She stopped struggling when he made eye contact with her. “You do what you’re told.”
She wanted to ask what happened to priority one. She wanted to argue with him, to ream him out for bringing her here just to bet her body in a poker game. But Tuck came up beside her and slid his fingers between hers. When she glanced around at the hacker, she sealed her lips. She didn’t know what was going on or what they were doing, but she trusted Tuck, maybe more than she trusted Brodie because he had never once let her down.
Tuck led her around to where he had been sitting and the fourth guy came with them, as though he didn’t trust her not to run. Tuck sat himself down and she went into his lap without being invited or compelled into it. Being close to her kin was the only thing that might keep her sane.
“Turn ‘em, Rigor,” Tuck said, leaning past her in expectation of seeing the cards each man had. For half a beat, nothing happened, and she wanted to scream at them to hurry up.
Rigor turned his cards first and no one seemed to breathe until the last one was revealed… eight of hearts, king of hearts, king of diamonds… Her vision was beginning to blur, but her lips were so dry, she couldn’t pry them apart. Eight of spades… if the next one was a king… The black spade and the capital K, made her throat close and with bated breath, everyone fixed on Brodie.
“What have you got, Rave?” Rigor asked, pushing back in his seat.
God, she hoped that Brodie knew what he was doing. Her nails dug so deep into Tuck’s hand that she probably drew blood. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe, she wanted her love to save her from the possible fate he’d put upon her.
“Cut her loose,” Brodie grumbled and shoved up onto his feet to turn his back on her.
The strangled yelp definitely came from her. Tuck stood up and walked away, letting the fourth guy pull her over to him. He yanked her close and ran his hands down her back to squeeze her ass. Twisting as far as she could, she pushed at him and watched Brodie and Tuck retreat toward the couches. Brodie ducked and picked up a half-empty bourbon bottle as Tuck grabbed glasses for him to fill.
Swallow (Kindred Book 2) Page 19
