Cuckoo (Kindred, #3) E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Scarlett Finn
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Cuckoo
She’s shrewd and unforgiving,
Focused on her own agenda.
Her motives are selfish,
And she always gets her man.

Zara’s existence is unrecognizable from life before Raven. Given all they’ve lost, the Kindred are still trying to find their rhythm. Except when an almost impossible-to-refuse bid for Game Time comes in, they have to get their shit together fast.

Raven is hesitant, Swallow is sure, and Swift is right in the middle. Facts they’d always accepted as sacred are suddenly called into question. With the truth no longer certain, they have to be willing to do whatever it takes to rewrite history.
 
Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2016, 2022 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2016, 2022

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2016

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. It may not be used to train AI software or for the creation of AI works.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Original cover by Najla Qamber Designs

www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

www.scarlettfinn.com

For D

KINDRED SERIES

Raven

Swallow

Cuckoo

Swift

Falcon

Finch

Read them in order for maximized reading pleasure.

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

CONTENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

ONE

“THANK YOU FOR MEETING WITH ME.”

Zara lowered into the seat that Julian Scanlon held out for her. His invitation to join him for a drink in Purdy’s had been unexpected. But once he made it clear the offer wasn’t social, she couldn’t refuse. Raising her eyes, she scanned the space that had once been so familiar to her. She hadn’t been here since the raid where she’d killed a man.

Purdy’s was bustling again, alive with the upper tiers of management from the surrounding business district as if the night they’d all been attacked here didn’t happen. The robbery hadn’t deterred patrons. Its location had always been convenient for the major businesses that occupied the blocks around it. The fact that there was some danger attached to the establishment probably helped reinvigorate trade. The rich and gorgeous could walk on the wild side without venturing out of their preferred zip code.

Elvis had blasted holes in the ceiling with his automatic weapon. But the scars of the night that changed her had been patched. All new furniture had been brought in since that fateful night. The owners obviously took the trauma and used it as an excuse to remodel.

Despite all of the changes, the room still felt familiar. In the countless times she’d sat here, reminding herself of how far she’d come since walking out of her father’s house against his wishes, she would never have been able to project who she’d become.

Taking in a breath while Julian seated himself opposite her, Zara adjusted her focus to look past the CI lawyer to the bar. A major reason for her comfort and familiarity was there on a stool, hunched over a beer. As soon as she told Brodie that she was meeting Julian here, he began to make plans as though this was a full-on Kindred op. She had to remind her love that she’d only been on one date with Julian in the past and it had been a bust, so he didn’t need to wage war.

He’d still grumbled his displeasure and refused to let her come alone. So he was observing from not too far away. Given what had happened the last time she was here, Zara wasn’t averse to having backup on hand. She wouldn’t want to take action without her chief’s direction like she had to the last time.

Brodie had been in a bleak place when she’d pulled the trigger and taken her first life. By choosing to be with her tonight, she guessed he was trying to make up for not being around to execute Elvis for her.

Julian cleared his throat and the tension in his body intrigued her, though not enough to ask what was bugging him. That much became apparent when he spoke in a slow, deep tone. “First of all, I’d like to extend my condolences. Losing Mr. McCormack, it was a… a shock to us all.”

He didn’t have the slightest idea how they’d lost Grant. Only those present in Sutcliffe’s kitchen when the lethal shot was delivered knew the truth. “Yes,” she said, examining the grain of the wood beneath her glass.

It had shocked her to find out just how easy it was to obtain a death certificate, even without a genuine body. But when your boyfriend was an assassin, he knew how to handle these things. Brodie’s initial concern hadn’t been explaining where his older brother was. The Kindred were deep in their own project of trying to decipher who Benedict Leatt was connected to. But questions were being asked, mostly of her, so she had to become vocal to the point of nagging when highlighting to her colleagues that when rich CEOs went missing, people noticed.

So, when one of Grant McCormack’s cars was found burned out after a tragic road accident and the dental records of the single corpse in the car were found to match the CEO, a death certificate was issued.

Brodie had covered their bases, the Kindred knew how to conceal death and misdirect, even if they didn’t usually work on the scale of someone as well-known as Grant McCormack. Zara had never questioned Brodie about the people he’d assassinated, meaning she couldn’t be sure about how far the Kindred had gone to protect themselves or cover their tracks.

The pity in Julian’s countenance was disconcerting. She wasn’t Grant’s widow, but as far as anyone in CI knew, she was closer to Grant than anyone else. “His lawyers are tracing his relatives,” he said. “Cormack Industries is at an impasse. Grant held the controlling stock of the company and that will be passed to his next of kin. Until we know who that is and what they plan to do with the firm, decision making is difficult.”

Grant’s death had just been announced at the start of the week, though it had been three weeks since he took the bullet that killed him. She hadn’t been back to CI because she and the Kindred were still basing themselves in New York. Zara knew enough of the process and the people to understand that CI would be in disarray while the lawyers tried to fish their heads from their asses.

Brodie shunned every mention of CI, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever. He was the last of the McCormack line. Grant had no wife and no kids, their parents were long gone. Brodie was going to inherit his father’s company, whether he wanted to or not. That would mean talking to lawyers and learning how to handle business—fast.

“Yes,” she said, peering at him. While everything he was saying was true, she wasn’t sure what she was expected to do about it. No one knew about her personal relationship with the younger McCormack brother, who no one in the business or the media had seen or heard from in decades. “But I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“The board asked me to approach you because we had a personal relationship,” he said with a furrowed brow.

A personal relationship that lasted as long as it took her to make her excuses and leave him on a street corner not too far from here. “Approach me about what?”

“You know Grant’s office better than anyone. No one can even get into the room.”

Her and Grant’s fingerprints were the only two that were authorized to open his office door, though IT could probably find a way to override that. Tuck, Kindred’s hacker, would be able to do it. It had to be a show of respect that they hadn’t gone snooping yet.

But his statement brought this meeting into focus. CI wasn’t expecting her to trace Brodie, they were expecting her to hold down the fort, which given its current state of uncertainty would be a hefty task for anyone to achieve alone. She was experienced in running Grant’s office, but she wasn’t superhuman.

“Are you asking me to come back?”

As far as Julian and the others there were concerned, she had never left her job at CI. Except without Grant, she had no role there, no reason to return. After Art’s death, she had resumed her duties as Premium Personnel Coordinator as a way to monitor Grant. Now that he’d been eliminated as a threat, she had no further mission at CI.

Although, if Brodie ended up in Grant’s position, she would have to guide him through dealing with day-to-day life as a CEO. Somehow, she couldn’t picture her love in the grand executive chair in Grant’s immaculate office that had once been his father’s.

Brodie wouldn’t like not being able to take Maverick into meetings, and he had zero interest in platitudes. His talent for small talk and polite civilities was nil. Being that he didn’t like people, he would struggle to deal with them every day without the constant risk of a potential body count hovering over them.

It was obvious that Julian was uncomfortable tonight. His expression shifted from a frown to something more solemn and then it became sterner. Any speculation there had been about her relationship with Grant must have intensified in recent days. She and he were both away from CI at the same time, and the nature of their relationship had slid into a gray area since Brodie had come into her life.

The introduction of Brodie led to her and Grant broaching more sensitive personal topics and their conversations were often fraught and emotional. It wouldn’t surprise Zara if the volatile nature of their encounters hadn’t been noticed by staff.

“Yes,” Julian said. “Once the lawyers locate the beneficiaries of Grant’s will, there could be a shakeup. I don’t know what will happen. But we will need a strong hand to steer the ship. All of Grant’s staff are used to reporting to you. I know they would appreciate it if you were around to lead them again.”

Managing the CI giant from behind a PA’s desk wouldn’t be possible. But having been with the company for more than five years, she knew its quirks, knew some of Grant’s secrets about how to keep the business running without a hitch. Turning off her loyalty to the place wasn’t simple, and she had wondered about the corporation’s prospects without Grant at its helm.

Adjusting her focus, Julian blurred when she peered beyond him and made eye contact with Brodie, who was managing to watch their table without watching. The patrons in this bar were too enamored with themselves to notice that she wasn’t paying attention to the man at her table.

The brute at the bar wearing worn Levi’s and a leather jacket didn’t fit in the picture of eloquence that surrounded him. The stark difference between him and his environment made her speculate about how much he’d stick out if he marched into a CI board meeting. His appearance would be jarring enough, but his words and attitude would probably lead to the requirement for smelling salts.

Sighing, she sipped her wine. Julian was uncomfortable enough that he was happy to stare into his glass, giving her time to think. Brodie would hate being stuck in an office. He knew nothing about business and would have no inclination to learn. Thus far, he’d avoided discussing the future of CI. It had taken her long enough to spur an explanation for Grant’s sudden disappearance. Next, she would have to coax him into talking about the family firm.

“Let me think about it,” she said. “I don’t know how I’ll feel about being there, working there, without Grant right next door, you know?”

And that was the truth, so it didn’t take much effort to sell it. Grant had been her boss for more than five years. She’d gone through the full spectrum of experience with him, from simple boss and employee to friend to enemy. Processing his death took its toll on her because she wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad that he was gone. She didn’t want anyone around who might be a threat to her, Brodie, and the Kindred. But in the end, Grant was a sad, misguided man, full of rage and regret. She pitied him as much as she hated him.

“Of course,” Julian said and was surprised when she stood up. “Would you like another drink?”

More than half of her wine was still in the glass on the table. She shook her head and picked up her jacket from where she’d laid it over the back of the chair. “No, thank you. Being here”—she lifted her chin to scan the space—“It’s bringing back too many memories.”

They said goodnight and that included a kiss on the cheek, which she’d have to soothe Brodie about when they got home. But she slipped out of Purdy’s and began to walk down the block. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Brodie would have departed Purdy’s after her. They had a rendezvous point a couple of blocks over; he’d be following behind probably at a considerable distance.

Knowing that her love was stalking her made her smile as she swept her jacket around her shoulders and zipped it up. The fitted leather number hugged her waist and laced at the lower back and it was just perfect for tearing around on Brodie’s bike with him. She couldn’t turn, that would make their association obvious, but she was prickling all over. Emphasizing the sway of her hips, she expected that Brodie would be watching her ass—literally.

Having her own personal bodyguard and guardian angel relaxed her about walking on this street. She’d been attacked at CI, which wasn’t far away, and she was just about to reach the corner where Tim Sutcliffe had died. She’d come so far since that night when she’d cowered in an alley fearing for her life. Brodie had been the one to take the shot, and she knew now that she’d never been in danger, but that didn’t soften the memory of her visceral distress.

It had been real at the time, and its draining power was the reason she’d had no fight left when she came home to find Brodie in her bedroom. Thinking back to their dramatic roots, she knew she’d live every minute of her terror over again if she had to, because in the process of it all she’d managed to capture Brodie’s love, making every emotional experience worth it.

Cutting across one street, she got into the alley where Brodie’s bike was secreted and hurried to traverse the length of it. The heels of her boots clicked as she walked, echoing through the narrow space. But she didn’t hear Brodie. He had to be there and his footwear was heavier than hers, yet he moved in stealth mode.

A prickling chill zipped up her spine and she shivered. They were alone here, in this private space, and a dangerous predator was on her tail. She didn’t feel his approach, but a heavy hand clamped over her mouth. She was dragged sideways and spun around to be thrust against the wall.

“You let him kiss you,” Brodie hissed, wiping her cheek with the back of his hand. “That slimy, good for nothing—”

“He wants me to go back to CI,” she said, flattening her hands on the cool leather over his chest.

Brodie pushed his body into hers. “I know. I heard.”

Another concession she’d had to make was giving him an earpiece so he could listen in to what was going on at the table. Putting on Brodie’s mother’s pendant, which now had a Kindred camera hidden in it, was becoming part of her normal dressing routine.

“I think I’ll have to do it,” she said.

There was no space for her hands on his torso when he compelled more of his weight onto her. The coarse, freezing concrete at her back cooled her neck and caught her hair. But she’d learned to like it rough.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said, crouching to kiss the side of her neck.

Talking about it later was Brodie’s go-to place when it came to anything family or CI related. She’d heard that from him a lot when she was trying to get him to talk about Grant. But if she tried to push a conversation onto him that he was done with, he’d force her to forget it in his own lustful way.

“Can we go home?” she asked, scratching her fingers through his hair. “It’s cold.”

He took her hand and pulled her away from the wall and over to his bike. He helped her on, got the engine started, and then they were on the road to McCormack Manor.

TWO

“IF THERE’S ANYTHING you need, pack it up, and—”

Persuading Brodie on the necessity of this trip back home had been a feat. She hadn’t lied when she said it was necessary to deal with Julian’s request for a meeting and with the future of CI. But she had to admit to herself that the excuse to leave Sutcliffe’s former compound, now Rigor’s new digs, was welcomed.

Brodie had only relented when she promised the trip would be short, except Zara wasn’t so eager to get to the place of negative memories. In that kitchen she got flashes, not only of Grant’s lifeless body lying on the floor, but of the terror that overwhelmed her when she’d thought she was going to lose Brodie.

The Manor was safe and it wasn’t until they returned here that she realized how alluring that security was and she didn’t want to give it up. She couldn’t tell Brodie that Rigor’s compound made her feel weak and emotional, she didn’t want him to think that she couldn’t handle what the Kindred had to face. Convincing him to let her be a part of missions was tough enough sometimes, without throwing in the chance that she might suffer effects of PTSD after each one.

In front of Brodie, she had to be strong. “No,” she said, lowering to sit on their bed before she flopped onto her back. “This bed feels so good.” Bringing her feet up to the mattress, she pushed herself toward the middle and opened her arms. “Look how big it is.”

Brodie returned from the walk-in where he’d been headed and stood between her feet that overshot the edge. Running her big toes up his outer thighs, she smiled and stretched her arms over her head. She was lying horizontal to the headboard, reveling in the space afforded to her here as opposed to the full-size they’d been sharing in New York.

It wasn’t that she minded having to sleep on top of Brodie in cramped quarters, it was that they had little room for acrobatics or fighting over dominance during playtime, which was why they’d taken to having sex on the floor more often than they did on the mattress. Of course, that gave the guys still awake in the room underneath them plenty to guffaw about over breakfast.

After racing away from Grant’s death, they’d regrouped in one of Rigor’s safe houses. The man might have come off as a sleaze initially, but he’d lost a lot of men in Sutcliffe’s compound that day, so she understood Brodie and Tuck’s desire to stay and help him with his revenge.

It was their revenge too. Brodie broke into Benedict Leatt’s apartment and his physical therapy practice, but nothing pointed to who he was working for. While her love was doing direct investigation, Rigor and Tuck were observing the compound. The option of storming the place had been discussed, but if they killed Leatt, they would never know who the power behind him was.

Almost as soon as their vehicle exited the gate of Sutcliffe’s compound on the night Grant died, a stream of black vehicles coming from the opposite direction drove into the property. She and her allies had gotten out just in time. The men who had rushed in after their quick departure stood guard around the perimeter and made direct confrontation or observation impossible. All they could do was watch from a distance.

Late on the third night, a black helicopter came down into the grounds and after a brief spell, it took off into the night. On that same night, vans and trucks poured out of the estate, proving that the land was now vacant, and Rigor wanted in before anyone else could think to claim it.

Taking advantage of access to the house was more viable than chasing Leatt down in a helicopter because they had their own investigations to do. Rigor had been promised the estate as payment, so the Kindred moved in with Rigor and what was left of his men. After that, they conducted a thorough search of the house and the surrounding land.

Leatt had been on the inside with Sutcliffe for months, meaning he would’ve known where to look for what he wanted. The Kindred still didn’t know what that was. What the Kindred wanted was confirmation that Sutcliffe had no backup cache that could suggest his mission wasn’t over. So far, they’d found no indication of one, so attention turned to finding out what they could about Leatt.

“You know, if you love this place so much,” Brodie drawled, shrugging his jacket from his shoulders to let it fall onto the floor before he pulled his tee shirt up over his head. Sucking her bottom lip in around her teeth, she bit into it as her fingers and toes curled. He had a body made for exercise. Seeing the hard grooves of muscle in his torso always made her salivate. “You shouldn’t have ripped your place off the market.” He hooked his thumbs into his jeans and widened his stance. “I’m not getting my jeans off ‘til you’re naked.”

His raised brow made her grin and she scrambled up to stand on the bed and strip, tossing her clothes past him left and right until she was as bare as he requested.

“That’s better,” he said, lunging forward to grab her thighs to tug them and send her onto her ass in the center of their bed.

She laughed just before his mouth claimed hers and when she coiled her limbs around him, she was peeved to feel his jeans still covering his legs. “You cheated,” she murmured as he moved his jaw to scrape his stubble on her chin.

“I haven’t heard you laugh for weeks.”

There hadn’t been much to laugh about. Under his present probing scrutiny, she lost the impulse. “Can we leave the mission at the door?” she asked and lifted to kiss him. Taking his face in both hands, she scratched her thumbnails under his jaw. “I don’t want to think. I just want to exist with you for a while.”

His mouth descended until his tongue plunged against hers, offering the sweet oblivion that she needed. In recent weeks, it had been hard to discuss anything personal with Brodie when there were ears everywhere. They still referred to each other by code names and held important talks outside or off the compound because despite regular bug sweeps, they were paranoid enough about Leatt and his superior to play their cards close to their chest.

“You just need a little loving, don’t you, pretty baby?” he breathed into her ear as his hands roamed her body. “You’ve missed the mighty fuck sessions we used to have in here.”

They’d had them in other places too, but she wasn’t going to deny her desire to connect with him. After spearing her nails into his flesh until his expression got hard and dark, she smiled. “You’ve missed fucking me hard and putting me in my place.”

“I sure have, plaything,” he said and sat up to flip her onto her front. With a scream, she tried to push onto her hands, but his body landed on hers and with his weight holding her down, she was immobilized. He rubbed his face into her hair. “You need a guy strong enough to keep you in check.” His teeth tangled in her hair when he opened his mouth, but the painful sting made her breasts swell as her nipples hardened. “You like it rough. You need it hard.”

Pressing his hand to her ass, he forced it between her legs to push two broad fingers into her. She hissed and managed to turn her head sideways while he kissed and nibbled on the back of her neck. “I need you to fuck me.”

“You need what I fucking give you,” he said, dragging his teeth along the curve of her neck to her shoulder. “You’re horny. You want cock, baby? You want me to slide my dick home and use you to get off.”

His getting off in her was a powerful experience. This man controlled life. He took it. He had seen horror and pain. Yet, it was her who gave him satisfaction. “Fuck me, Brodie,” she panted, trying to move with his fingers that were pumping into her.

Brodie kneeled up, and she tried to twist to look at him over her shoulder, but with one heavy hand on her ass, he spanked her. “You move when I fucking tell you to move.”

Burying her face in the bed, she tried to quell a smile, but excitement was making her wriggle. She heard him cast off his jeans, and the rough hairs on his legs abraded the softness of her inner thighs when he pulled her ass up, pushing himself into her just an inch. When she tried again to use her hands for support, he let her hips go and grabbed her wrists to pull them to her lower back.

With her face in the mattress and her pelvis in his lap, she had little control and any she did have was taken from her when something soft and strong was bound around her wrists, leaving her helpless.

Brodie picked up her hips again and pulled her back to push himself into her again. In all the times they’d had sex, she’d become accustomed to his size and as he pumped her hips up and down, she knew he was only treating her to the bulb of his thick cockhead.

Groaning, she tried to pull her knees under herself, but he yanked her legs straight then shunted her forward to toss her onto her back again. “You’re not in control, baby,” he sneered, dragging his eyes over her body. Her weight was balanced on her shoulders and her balled hands, which were still bound at her lower spine. In spite of her attempts to free her hands from the fabric he’d used to tie her, they stayed locked together.

“Just do it,” she said, opening her legs and lifting her knees to present herself to him.

Instead of accepting what she offered, he shoved her legs aside and came up the bed to kneel beside her head. With a handful of her hair, he pushed the moist head of his dick against her mouth, but she clamped her lips together and shook her head. She didn’t mind sucking his cock. She enjoyed the power it gave her to torment him when he allowed her to administer his ecstasy. But putting up a fight was half the fun of their foreplay.

“Cute,” he growled and squeezed her nose to block her airway.

She couldn’t keep her mouth closed for more than another few seconds. When she opened to gasp in for air, he waited half a beat before he shoved his dick between her lips. He waited half a beat because he wanted to give her time to use their safe word. They’d been together for months and she had never used it. But when things got rough, he was wild and never took her consent for granted.

The taste of his mass made her body move. Her hips came up as he plunged toward her throat. Then her pelvis lowered, allowing her to squeeze her thighs together, when he retreated. Smearing her lips with the juices seeping from him, he pushed his head into her cheek until it was stretched to its limit.

“Say no to me again and your diet will consist of nothing but spunk for a month, hear me?”

His threat might have been meant to intimidate, but it infuriated her hormones further. Whispering his name, she turned her head and began to suck for her life. Stirring her yearning provoked her into wanting to spur him on, to get him into the same state of frenzy that kept her from having a complete thought.

He let her slurp and lick, pulling him into her mouth with each forceful suck. He stroked her hair from her face until he had enough to gather it inside his fist. The grip gave him the ability to direct her gaze to his so they could maintain eye contact. He loved to watch her do this, and she liked to see the heat between them glaze over his eyes. With one hard shove, he blocked her throat then pulled her back to take himself from her.

Her breasts begged for attention and when he dove onto his side and examined her body, he slipped a hand between her thighs. Arching, Zara tried to compel his touch to her breasts. But he half-smiled and winked at her before sliding down the bed. Keeping her on her back, he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and rolled onto his front to insinuate his mouth between her thighs.

Licking his way to her clit, he kissed and sucked, returning the favor she’d bestowed on him with every flick of his tongue. Her balled hands were digging into her lower back causing bruising pain on her spine. But the position meant her pelvis angled to better receive his mouth. She couldn’t keep quiet, couldn’t keep still, and when his tongue drove into her and he reached up to fondle one breast, she screamed and bucked up.

She was still panting, trying to catch her breath, when his hips rose and he matched their bodies, docking himself inside her in one hard shove. Still sensitive from her last crescendo, she winced and whispered his name, trying again to pull her hands free, but it was futile.

He stilled inside her. Through narrow eyes covered with hair and clouded by heat, she smiled at him. “Tell me you haven’t missed this,” she teased, huffing in each breath as she tried to calm her heart.

His palm landed on her forehead, and he pushed her damp hair out of her eyes. “My dick’s only happy when he’s right here,” he said, shunting himself into her and pulling her hips up to rub her clit with his groin. She hissed again, and he lowered to kiss her. “Your sweet little pussy, hugging him so tight.”

Pushing up to slide her tongue into his mouth, she could only show her affection through her kiss because she had no hands to caress him. But he broke away to look at her eyes as he lifted up and pushed in. Each thrust made her gasp, she wheezed in a breath and bit her lip, trying to restrain the pressure boiling in her belly.

He ducked to bite her lip away from her and let it drag out as he pulled back. “That belongs to me. I want to hear those breathy little gasps you can’t keep in when my dick pumps the air out of you.”

His pace was even, in deep, slide back, shove, retreat, fast in, easy out. “Brodie,” she whimpered. “Give me my hands, beau.”

“Not a chance,” he said, kissing her nose then her chin. “This is my rodeo.”

Grabbing her knees, he pushed them up into her torso, giving himself leverage to rise higher and pump faster. Watching their bodies connect and part, he got faster and started to grunt when she squeezed tighter, clenching herself around him, trying to keep them locked together.

Stuttering, it took her a few tries to get his name out. But when orgasm hit her, the sole word left in her vocabulary was his name. She must have said it ten times before he tightened his grip on her legs and hit her hard with one final dive of his dick into her.

Her heart was working so hard that her other organs had to be suffering, but she made herself open her eyes to look at him. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, then with a loud exhale, he dropped onto his back on his own side of the bed. His hands landed on his chest. Ten seconds of silence passed before he rolled over to shove her onto her side so he could free her arms.

Her spine hurt and her arms ached. Brodie tossed aside the ripped, crumpled mess he’d used to restrain her, which turned out to be the panties she’d discarded for their tryst. Trying to stimulate feeling, she circled her wrists and extended her fingers. He took her hand and yanked her body over so her chest was pressed into his arm, and he began to massage her palm.

“We should get out of here,” he said, pressing his thumbs into her palm then working them up, squeezing her fingers in a stretch. “There’s a flight in an hour and—”

“I’m going to stay here,” she said, relaxing her neck so her head flopped onto his chest.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, with amusement in his voice betraying that he had misconstrued her statement as a declaration of exhaustion. “I’ll carry you to the shower and soap that sexy body… maybe we’ll aim to hit the flight that leaves in two hours.”

Wearing a smile, she freed her hands and rolled on top of him to kiss him then press her cheek down on his beating heart that shook his ribs. “No, I’m not tired from the sex.” She was, but that wasn’t the reason she planned to stay at the manor. “I meant I’m going to stay here for a few days.”

His voice became firm. He was no longer her pliable, relaxed lover. He was asserting his authority. “Swift needs us,” Brodie said, leaving no wiggle room. “Rigor’s been stand up so far, but he’s not Kindred and I don’t trust him to have Swift’s back all the way.”

Requesting to stay behind wasn’t something she’d done in the past, so he had to be curious about her reticence. She kept her reasons to herself because she knew he’d never understand them. She struggled to understand herself.

Rigor’s place shouldn’t be scary now that all of the threats had been flushed out. Zara felt uneasy there. Brodie and Swift handled being there like pros. But she didn’t like facing the paranoia that lurked when she moved through the halls or the traumatic memories that speared her without warning.

Following Art’s death, it had been her job to stay strong, and she had. Zara was proud of the way she slipped into the Kindred ranks and she didn’t want to lose her confidence. Rigor’s place would always be Sutcliffe’s compound to her and she didn’t want to spend any more nights there than she had to because it was having an effect on her conviction that she belonged in the Kindred. After all, how could she be equal to Raven or Swift when she couldn’t look at the spot Saint had fallen in without getting nauseous?

But Brodie was right, they couldn’t abandon Swift there, the Kindred had chosen Rigor’s as their base and so that was where Brodie needed to be. If she could keep him here and lose herself in him then she would, but it would be selfish to ask him to stay just because Rigor’s place made her feel vulnerable. Swift needed backup and it made her sick that she didn’t feel secure in being able to provide that support.

“You should go,” she said, opening her hand on his heart as she rose to meet his eye.

His brow furrowed. “You want to stay, but you want me to go,” he said. He wasn’t often confused, but she heard it in his tone now. “This from the woman who was begging to be allowed to come on the last trip.”

Learning that it wasn’t easy to evade the truth with him peering at her, she traced her fingertips up and down his sternum. “I have to check in at CI. I have to see what’s going on. Julian’s right, it will do the others good to see me there.”

Her closest colleague at CI had always been Grant. She wasn’t concerned with synergy because those left working there would have to learn to get along without her soon enough. But it seemed like a reason he might buy. “They’ll have questions,” he said, wearing a scowl. “Do you want to deal with that alone?”

No, she didn’t, but she was better at skirting awkward questions since going through her breakneck Kindred education. “What’s the alternative?” she asked. “Are you going to come in and field those questions for me?”

His scowl deepened. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would consider that an option. “I don’t want us to be separated. We’ve got a lot of enemies out there, baby.”

More with every mission. “You left Swift alone,” she said, dragging a fingernail over his pec as she rested her head on him again.

“Swift’s been doing this a lot longer than you have. And he doesn’t suck my dick.”

Which was his way of saying that he was worried about her as a boyfriend instead of a colleague. Turning her head to kiss his chest, she acknowledged his concern. “That’s good to know. Yeah, I guess if I got kidnapped or murdered, your dick would be neglected.”

“Yep,” he said.

The grump in his voice made her look at him again, this time with a smile. “That’s not why you’re worried about me.”

“No, it’s not,” he said and when he tried to look away again, she caught his face and climbed on top of him to tease.

“You worry ‘cause you love me.”

Though he considered it for a second, his sullen expression didn’t relax. “Yeah, so fuck, how am I supposed to keep an eye on you here if I’m there watching Tuck’s back?”

“This house is a fortress. I carry GPS wherever I go. CI is one of the most secure buildings in the city. Besides—”she cast a look over her shoulder—“You have eyes on me everywhere.”

She still hadn’t established where the cameras were, but Brodie had disclosed that he watched her, even in their private space. Instead of being shocked or feeling violated, she found his variety of attentiveness to be arousing.

At any time or in any place, he could be watching her. Since learning this secret, she’d done her best to tantalize him through her actions, especially if he was too far away to touch. She hoped it might entice him to come home to her.

Brodie wasn’t easily persuaded after he’d made his mind up about something, but she wasn’t finished trying. Staying here at base and working at CI was safer than hanging around with Rigor and his men. Using these facts and some intimate persuasion, she was confident he’d leave her here and go to New York alone.

She was a distraction to him there and being the solitary female in the house, she got more than her share of leers and suggestive comments. If she stayed here, Brodie would be less likely to put his fist through one of the men they were supposed to be working with.

Being the lone woman in the Kindred was something she was getting used to but sitting in Rigor’s new home surrounded by skilled men who could be counted upon to protect the sanctity and secrets of their kin was highlighting to her just how confused her role in the world had become.

“If we’re separated, I can’t help you if you get into trouble,” he said.

Slanting her lips, she pressed them into his body and slid her hands up to squeeze his shoulders, which allowed her to lever up enough that her breasts hung close to his mouth. “You’ve taught me how to look after myself and I’m always armed. Think of how much fun it will be if I call you up and tell you to kick someone’s ass for upsetting me. You’ll have an excuse for some sport. If I’m at CI, I’m out of the way of Rigor’s handsy men.”

Grabbing her body, he pulled her down. “Someone touched you?”

“No,” she said. “But we both know they’ve thought about it.”

And that was probably the decider because he didn’t even try to argue. “Forty-eight hours,” he said, coiling his hand in a fist around the locks at the nape of her neck to force her cheek onto his chest. “Go to sleep. I won’t be here when you wake up.”

Complying, she nestled close to him and closed her eyes. “Brodie,” she sighed.

“What?” he asked, loosening his fingers to comb them down her back.

Being away from base meant following Kindred rules and adhering to them was often frustrating, so she wanted to exploit this rare moment that they weren’t constrained. “Nothing. I just like being able to say your name.” His hand moved to her neck and squeezed.

“My girl,” he said, stroking her until she drifted off to sleep.

THREE

INVIGORATED BY BRODIE’S agreement, they’d enjoyed each other again in the dark. Before he stroked her back to sleep, he added some provisos. She was to stay at the manor every night and had to report in several times a day. Once she was satisfied that CI wasn’t going to burn to the ground without her and Grant there to hold it up—which Brodie assumed would take no more than two days—she was to join him and Tuck at Rigor’s place.

Her task was to return to her old life, sans Grant. Brodie wasn’t the only one who needed to be free of distractions to get the job done. Keeping her eye on the company would be easier without him noticing and questioning every nuance of her actions.

Brodie departed the manor before she was out of her morning shower. He advised her that he’d leave a car for her in a concealed parking space outside the perimeter of McCormack land. Having a car to get to and from work would be easier than having a cab drop her off each night.

She still had her parking spot at CI and the codes hadn’t changed, so getting inside was just like old times. For a while she fooled herself that going through the motions would be enough. That was until she reached the executive floor. The staff there stopped to greet her and express condolences, but when they were all gone, she was left staring at the interior glass wall of Grant’s office. The blinds were closed on the other side concealing her view. Not that she needed to see to know what was there.

Returning to her place of employment was supposed to be a comfort that would chase off the demons that had plagued her. It was supposed to bring her peace and restore her to contentment. Except as she stood staring at the shielded window she felt like a detached stranger, irrelevant to the company that had given her purpose for so long, and all of her insecurities came rushing back.

The appeal of the job came in her importance, in her value to the corporation through the CEO. Without this job and with the man gone, the last part of Zara Bandini, corporate lackey, had died too. She’d been struggling with the loss of that part of her identity.

“Zara!”

Whirling around, she cast off her thoughts of Grant and the uncertainty of her future to smile at Julian who was striding toward her. “Hello,” she said when he came to a stop in front of her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so glad to have you back,” he said, giving her a pat then turning her body toward her office and walking at her side to accompany her inside. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that things are piling up.”

He didn’t. She knew how the backlog mounted if she chose to go home early one night of the week. That she hadn’t been here for a month left her with no illusions. “I’ll delegate as much as I can. The team works efficiently so long as there’s someone driving them.”

“And there’s no one better at that than you,” he said. “If you need anything signed at an executive level, bring it to me. I’ll act as liaison with the board. It’s not that they don’t trust you—”

“Just that I’m beneath them,” Zara said, nodding and turning to her desk, which was just as she’d left it. With events at Sutcliffe’s compound and Grant’s vicious duplicity, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat at that workstation with nothing but CI business on her mind.

“They want to check everything out before we make any executive decisions. We don’t want anything too drastic to change before the new owner comes in.”

That piqued a different kind of interest, but she tried to subdue her vehemence in the face of Julian’s ignorance. “Have you found him? The new… owner?”

“No,” he said. “Mr. McCormack had a brother but pinning down his location is proving impossible. He had cousins too. I hadn’t realized he had so many living family members, he never talked about any of them.”

Julian was obviously parroting what someone else had said because he had no close relationship with Grant that would afford him the chance to make such an observation. But Grant was known as a private man who kept his personal life away from work. That there were lawyers probing into his history and his family tree would mortify him, as it would Brodie. Picking up on the similarity between the brothers when she so often noticed their differences didn’t help to assuage her turmoil over Grant’s death.

“You never know, it could be that he finds you,” she said and noted that she should talk to Brodie about asserting his authority over CI before any of the lawyers or board members delved too deep into what he and his family had been doing for the last twenty years.

He smiled. “That would certainly save a lot of time and money,” Julian said, squeezing her shoulder. “Do you need anything? If it’s too difficult being here, we can find you somewhere else to work.”

Again, she felt categorized as the grieving widow when that couldn’t be further from the truth. When she’d heard Grant’s body hit the floor, she’d feared it was Brodie and when she turned to see that it wasn’t, her prevailing emotion was relief. Horrified by such a hideous response to the death of a man she’d been close to for half a decade, she struggled with the nature of her own character and how it had developed since the night she met Timothy Sutcliffe. That was the night her life changed.

“This place is home to me,” she said, glancing toward Grant’s office. “There’s work that has to be done and there’s nowhere else I’d rather do it.”

Getting stuck in a broom closet with a laptop wouldn’t ease her confusion about where she fit in without her corporate identity. She had to sit down and wade into the mounds of work that would have been growing since she and Grant last walked out of here.

If she kept her focus, the structure of CI would help her settle again, she was sure of it.

***

SHE WAS WRONG. Every day for a week, she’d gone into CI hoping to rediscover the sensation of fluency. Each day she failed. Struggling to find her identity again in such a familiar place thrust her further into the uncertainty of her future that raised questions about who she was.

Her internal conflict spilled from business to personal when one night she drove the Kindred car she’d been using back to her apartment instead of the manor. That she did it on autopilot betrayed how deep into her subconscious this battle had gone.

Zara hadn’t even considered staying at her apartment. She’d just driven away from CI, parked, and turned off the engine. Then when she got out and looked up, she found herself in front of her apartment instead of at the manor.

Because of Leatt and their mission in New York, she’d called to cancel the listing of her residence using the excuse of not being around to pack up and hand over keys etc. Now she wondered if she’d been entirely honest with herself and the others about her need to retain her apartment.

As she’d ended up there anyway, she went upstairs to look around the space she’d fallen in love with at the first viewing and decided to stay that night. While going through old routines, she considered that it might be easier to “find herself” in the place that had once been her private sanctuary. One night in the apartment turned into two, then three, and then four. Without making a conscious decision, she’d found herself living in her own pad again.

It was dark out and the CI building had been pretty much empty when she left, but she was getting through the work, though that was little consolation. Having parked out back, she ascended the stairs and let herself into her apartment. Closing and locking the door, Zara stopped trying to figure out what she should do next.

She hadn’t been eating much, as food hadn’t been high on her priority list. Indecisiveness was a new personality trait for her to grapple with too. Sort of tempted to work out, because she’d picked up the habit as Brodie’s girl, Zara’s feeble treadmill didn’t inspire her. It was nothing on the fully kitted-out functional gym at the manor. So much in her life had changed quickly. She’d suffered losses but gained so much. Sometimes when looking in the mirror, she didn’t recognize who was looking back.

Sloping toward her bedroom, she figured she’d take a shower and make a decision while soaping herself. It had become another habit to check the chair in the corner of her bedroom every time she entered. Usually she dismissed the piece and went on with her business. Today, she stopped short and dropped her purse at the sight of her man filling the seat.

Contending with her own issues had left her with little mental leeway to think about Brodie’s and the Kindred’s. Though if she had, she’d have concluded that it was only a matter of time before Brodie appeared to chastise her for ducking calls and avoiding the manor.