Cuckoo (Kindred Book 3)

by Scarlett Finn

  When she moved toward the trunk, he took her hand and pulled her away from the car. “Am I going to be punished?” she asked, traipsing along behind him.

  “In private later,” he said.

  The squeeze of his hand was bruising, and she expected him to take her upstairs to their bedroom. But he didn’t. Taking her out through the garage door, they traversed the slope and kept on going until he pulled her into the trees.

  Confused by his strange actions, she sought an explanation. “Where are we going?” she asked, but he didn’t answer, he just got faster as he shoved branches and pushed leaves aside. Zara struggled to keep up, and it was so dark that she could barely see her own feet, increasing her chances of falling over something. Uncertainty and overexertion made her breathing grow to a pant, but he didn’t let her go. “Brodie, you’re scaring me, where are we—”

  The trees thinned and they broke into a clearing she recognized. Brodie stopped and pulled her forward to reveal the scene. Tall, burning torches had been driven into the ground around the family headstones, lighting up the whole clearing with a warm, yet mystical, orange glow that faded into the mists that hung on the ground. But they weren’t the only things of note. Tuck was there, too, beside Zave, who had Thad on his other side. The whole gang was here.

  Brodie lowered to whisper in her ear. “I still think Saint was a prick.” The Kindred moved aside, and she sobbed when she saw a new headstone next to Art’s. Both hands flew to her mouth and Brodie put his arm around her. “This is why we need you. You think like Art. We just have to nurture that.”

  Turning to gaze up at him, she twisted into his arms and stroked her hands up to his face. “I love you.”

  “Remember that next time you think about ditching me,” he said, taking her chin between his thumb and curled index finger. “The guys have beers over there, and maybe a bottle or two of dry white wine. Want to get drunk?”

  Curving her lips, she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh, cry, or jump him. “What about business?”

  “It will all be there in the morning,” he said, dipping to kiss her. “Art and Saint didn’t get any send off. Funerals have never been a Kindred thing.” Because until recently, the deaths they’d dealt with were ones caused by them. A body would be left where it lay or disappeared, but there was no ceremony attached to that, only evidence removal.

  Grieving for Grant was a symbolic way to grieve for her past. Her naivety was gone, along with her CI career, and she needed closure. Being out here, surrounded by Brodie’s lost family was a great initiation into her future with the Kindred.

  Zara wasn’t sorry Grant was gone, the man he’d become was cold and cruel. But she did grieve the loss of his innocence. After losing his mentor, Frank Mitchell, something in Grant had changed and if she’d been paying closer attention, she might have noticed it. Brodie had a support network to help him deal with loss while Grant had no one. At the end, it was clear that there was no going back for Grant, he was too far into his deluded psychosis to see the consequences of his actions. All he wanted to do was win and by doing this, the Kindred were proving that he hadn’t won.

  They’d spent long enough observing the party from afar, and Brodie slid his hand up her spine to twine his fingers in her hair and take the back of her neck. “Come on.”

  Guiding her over to the others, she was met by smiles from Thad and a hug from Tuck. Zave nodded at her, which was an improvement over ignoring her. Business had drowned out most of their chances to kick back and enjoy each other’s company because when they were together, they all had to be on. Even her time with Brodie had often been cut short or hampered by missions, Game Time, and/or thugs with a plan.

  This was a long overdue chance to bond and relax, and she was interested to find out how the Kindred partied when they weren’t using it as a cover for something else. If they could all get into the spirit of the night, this was going to be a joyful learning experience.

  And it was. Zave didn’t drink alcohol, but she did hear him laugh for the first time. Thad was a hoot and everyone shared stories of Art and Grant. Yes, the latter was a twisted maniac who wanted his revenge on them. But he had no one to grieve him. There was no body in the ground.

  Sutcliffe’s compound had been wiped clean before Rigor and his crew got in there. The Kindred didn’t know where Grant’s body was, probably in a mass grave with Rigor’s fallen men and Sutcliffe’s dead followers. Much blood had been shed and for no purpose.

  More than just beer was consumed after Thad retrieved supplies from the house. Brodie was persuaded to demonstrate his skills by building a spit to roast the meat that Thad had been desperate to try in the great outdoors—even though they were only a hundred meters or so from the house.

  Saying goodbye involved stories and jokes, mostly Thad’s, and while Grant and Art were celebrated, Brodie’s parents’ graves weren’t discussed as much. Their loss had become relevant in Brodie’s life again, and he was still working through what that meant for him. Toward the end of the night, she caught Brodie staring at his parents’ headstones when Thad was singing a song, which he seemed to do a lot of when he was drunk.

  At that point, after praising Thad’s singing skills, Zara had taken Brodie away from the party. Her goal was to get him to open up, he had other ideas and they ended up making love on the rocks above the crashing waves surrounded by the scent of the sea. By the time they got back to the graves, the torches were out and the others were gone.

  Music in the manor betrayed that Thad was still up and partying. But Brodie wasn’t interested in continuing festivities and instead took her to bed where they stayed until the sunshine woke her up.

  The natural light betrayed Brodie’s absence from their bed. Stretching into a seated position, she considered how to tackle Kahlil’s offer with Brodie when her gaze snagged on something in the corner. Far left of the bed, on the same wall as the entertainment center, in the corner shadow… Zara smiled. That was Brodie’s chair, or Raven’s chair, from her apartment bedroom. Cuckoo wouldn’t have the pleasure of sitting in the chair that meant so much to her relationship with Brodie.

  The piece had probably been there last night when they came to bed, but she hadn’t noticed. Exhilarated, she was even more determined to see her love. Given that they had guests, she assumed he was somewhere in the manor with them. So, she got up and ready for the day before she went on the hunt for the others.

  They weren’t in the kitchen or in the dining room, not that she expected them to be sitting down to a lavish breakfast. Breakfast was more often missed in this house than eaten. The guys were probably hung over, too, making it even less likely that they were indulging in food.

  When she didn’t find her cohorts in the security room, she sat at the keyboard to activate the motion sensors, so she wouldn’t have to wander aimlessly in her quest to locate them. Technology featured more in her life than it had been before. As the system booted her request, one of the screens flickered to a new picture, and she saw her apartment. An initial pang of longing became curious surprise when she noted the unfamiliar interior.

  Shifting along to the left keyboard, she typed in the code that brought the picture from the monitor bank and put it on the smaller monitor in front of the keyboard. Zooming in for a closer look, she hunched over the desk. The furniture in the apartment wasn’t hers, none of it. She exhaled a laugh and sat back. Brodie hadn’t just handed over her personal space and possessions. He’d cleared the place out and had it redressed before Mischa set foot over the threshold.

  The motion sensor system bleeped to indicate it was live, so she exited the image of the apartment and rolled her chair sideways to access the system she’d started. But before it could display the results, the door behind her opened, and she spun the chair around to see all four men come in. The door closed behind them and they stood in a row.

  Being confronted by four such formidable men would have intimidated her a year ago; these days it didn’t make her blink. Tuck
, Zave, and Thad went to the table in the corner to sit down.

  “Are you ready?” Brodie asked her, though she didn’t know what he was talking about, so she could only look left then right as her love went over to stand behind an empty chair at the table where the other men were seated.

  All of them were waiting for her, and their intent scrutiny made her self-conscious. “Ready for what?” she asked. This was like getting a pop quiz in high school that everyone else was prepared for, while she hadn’t known it was coming. “Is this the initiation or the punishment?”

  Calm and patient, Brodie was at peace in an eerie way. “You’ve been itching to tell me your plan since I got into that rental car with you,” Brodie said. “Now’s your chance to spill it. Now’s your chance to lead.”

  Brodie pulled out the seat he’d been leaning on and sat down to wait, just like the others. Curling her fingers around the arms of the chair, she scanned each face at the table. They were blank, awaiting orders, there was no judgement or annoyance, but there was a silent expectation and she’d have to meet it. There was no place for whining, complaining, or second guessing herself now. She wasn’t performing for her boyfriend and friends, she was presenting to serious, capable colleagues who needed her to step up.

  Pushing up from the chair, she swallowed to moisten her throat then licked her lips. She knew all of these men, and she had worked with them, but being in control, that was a different ball game. Here she was, little Zara Bandini in charge of her own army.

  Jumping in meant conducting herself with confidence. Art had been an inclusive leader, but the Kindred wasn’t a democracy. Brodie ran things and had the deciding vote on all actions taken by their squad. He’d probably instructed the others not to argue with her or disrespect her because he knew about her personal struggle. Even if this little performance was just to humor her, they didn’t let it show and gave her their complete focus and trust. Pitching her feeble idea to these experienced men was intimidating because if she made a fool of herself, it would take a long time to win back their respect.

  Buying herself some time, she went to the table at the side of the room, poured herself a coffee, and took a calming sip before turning to face them, bolstered enough to fake confidence even if it was wavering a tad.

  “Leatt’s a dead end,” she said. “Hanging around at Rigor’s doesn’t get us anything. We need to be focused now, and sitting around there waiting for something to come to us is frustrating and counterproductive. Unless we can predict his next move, there’s a good chance he’ll get the drop on us there. Rigor’s place used to be Sutcliffe’s, Leatt knows that ground better than we do. Here, we’re protected and on our own turf. If anyone tries to come for us, we have the home field advantage.”

  “So we’re supposed to forget about Leatt?” Tuck asked.

  Like tennis, the spectators looked at the speaker then back at her. “No,” she said, wetting her mouth with the coffee. “We can still keep an eye out and our ears open. But we have an imminent concern.”

  “Kahlil Samara,” Zave said. “You fear him?”

  Brodie leaned back and pulled something from his pocket. Tossing the item into the middle of the table, she had to cross the room to see what it was: her watch. “We heard it all.”

  Everyone was up to speed, so it saved her recounting the meeting. But she was concerned for her love. She gazed at him, hoping for a sign that he was okay after listening to Kahlil bring up his parents in the way he had. Brodie was blank, businesslike, just like the others, and he didn’t relax his mask for a second.

  Thad broke first and his laugh startled them all. “I particularly liked the part when you told Cuckoo not to spend too much time on her knees,” Thad said, his lips twisted in a smile that wanted to be another laugh.

  Tuck laughed and even Zave smiled. They’d heard more than just the Kahlil meeting. They’d heard her whole morning. Zara’s mouth opened when she fixated on Brodie, but no sound came out. She should have turned the damn recording off before talking to Mischa. Zara hadn’t been thinking straight because she was too busy cleaning up after Grant.

  She couldn’t stay shocked. She might not have realized that the men would hear her initial meeting with Cuckoo, but she couldn’t take back what had been said, nor would she if Brodie demanded it. “I won’t apologize to her,” Zara said, starching herself with resolve. Showing Cuckoo that she was no doormat was important, and groveling would eliminate any possibility of equality between the women.

  “Wouldn’t ask you to,” Brodie said. “You stood your ground.”

  He didn’t smile, but his eyes warmed with pride. “Much as I’m not a fan of the woman, she’s doing a job and if she knows her stuff, then she’s in the right place,” Zara said. “If we can trust her and I’m not so sure that we can. So we should be vigilant.” Art didn’t trust her and knew she got off on criminality, those facts were enough to keep Zara suspicious.

  “So Cuckoo stays put,” Tuck said. “What about Kahlil?”

  Glad that Tuck was following and supporting her position, Zara was happy to return to business and happier still to stop talking about Cuckoo. “Whether or not he’s telling the truth about what he knows,” she said. “We have to take him seriously.”

  “Why?” Brodie asked.

  More than a question, she read curiosity rather than affront. He was testing her; this whole damn thing was a test. He wanted to know how she’d perceived Kahlil and how she’d played this forward.

  “Because he’s pissed that he got fired for failing to obtain Game Time. So pissed that he went out there and found someone else to bankroll him. Not only is he spreading the word that Game Time exists just by telling his new employer, but he’s convinced the new employer of Game Time’s value. Kahlil has proven that he’s hungry and that he’s bitter, that’s not a good combination.” As Grant had demonstrated.

  “There’s another hungry party,” Zave said.

  She opened her hand to him in agreement, then sat down, gulping from her mug as she did. “We have to nip this in the bud. If Kahlil has heard about Grant’s death, then Sikorski has too. Both groups wanted Game Time to cause harm, and we shouldn’t assume those plans have gone away just because they lost out on the deal.”

  “She’s right,” Zave said, and she was surprised that he was turning out to be her biggest ally when he’d never displayed much fondness for her before. She smiled, she’d thought the same thing about Art’s opinion of her, and he ended up being her most vehement cheerleader.

  Tuck linked his hands on the table. “We have to shut them down before they get off the ground. We have to know who Kahlil is working for now.”

  So much had fallen by the wayside since the loss of Art, and they were still trying to recover from that damage to their ranks. “He’s got to be in town,” Zara said.

  “There’s an email address for contact in the envelope with his offer,” Brodie said. She hadn’t been aware that he’d seen the envelope. “It’s in the box you left in the kitchen.”

  That’s right, the box of Grant’s things. Brodie had read her mind because she hadn’t given the envelope a second thought. “Can we trace the email?” she asked Tuck.

  Tuck shrugged. “I can try if there’s activity on it. But it’s a free account. I’d guess he won’t be accessing it frequently. But I can send out a—”

  “What about facial recognition?” she asked, looking to Brodie. “You said we have access to that, right?”

  “You want to look for him in the city?” Tuck asked and stretched his arms toward her as he leaned forward. “We can do that. If he’s walking the streets we should be able to find him.”

  Thinking ahead, she knew they couldn’t descend on him in the street in the middle of the day. But if they could track his movements through cameras, they should be able to narrow down the areas he frequented. “We could use it to find out where he’s staying, couldn’t we?”

  “Yes, we could,” he said. But it was Brodie’s say so that th
ey needed because he was the man in charge and because she didn’t want him to be disrespected, especially as it pertained to his own parents.

  Making eye contact with Brodie, she hoped for some indication as to his thoughts. “Kahlil is a threat,” she said, hoping her love would see how important it was to keep tabs on this man and his intentions. “We might be able to locate him and if he has contact with whoever he’s working for—”

  “I put bullets in people,” Brodie said, showing little empathy for her position. “Don’t expect me to get cozy with the guy because he’s dangling a carrot.”

  “But you don’t mind if the rest of us keep tabs on him, do you?” He shrugged. That was sort of permission, so she smiled, but it was brief. “We should keep an eye on CI as well, just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” Thad asked.

  If it was up to her, they’d always have eyes on Cuckoo. Brodie had sort of taken care of that by putting her into a place that was monitored by cameras, but Cuckoo could do a lot of damage at CI whether she meant to or not. Beyond Cuckoo, CI held secrets of its own, a legacy left by Grant that could still bite them in the ass.

  “Grant kept his work with Game Time a secret. But he did tell us that he’d started Winter Chill again. If those projects are still working—”

  “We need to shut them down,” Brodie said. At least he was quick to agree with her on one subject.

  “You’re the man in charge now,” she said, lifting her shoulders. “I brought Grant’s computer and if we have to go into his apartment, I can access it. All of his holdings will be distributed as per his will. Julian said that the lawyers were still trying to locate his next of kin, that would be you. If no one has been bequeathed anything yet, that would suggest everything will come to you. Grant didn’t have close friends or many girlfriends, none that he seemed to be serious about in any way.”

  “Always was a charmer,” Brodie muttered and while she wouldn’t say it, she thought to herself that was another thing the brothers had in common: their inability to connect and commit. They both had trust issues, though it seemed everybody did in today’s world. She’d been with Brodie for months, and she had fought a lot of battles with him to get this close to his inner sanctum. Most women would have given up long ago.