Raven (Kindred #1) (30 page)

“You’re for me,” he said, squeezing.

While still pinning her, his other hand stroked its way from her ass to her hip, and kept on going until he was toying with her vulva. He rubbed, pinched, and flicked her clit in a series of erratic maneuvers that actually made a sob of bliss come from between her parted lips. Her eyes closed and she tried to concentrate on resisting the abyss of orgasm. He’d already taken her over that precipice while he had achieved no climax himself.

“I’m not wearing a rubber,” he said, bowing his body over hers. “Is your pussy hungry, baby?”

“Mm-hmm,” she managed to whimper while working her hips against his digits and trying to consume more of his cock in her center.

He tutted. “Naughty girl, you know how wrong it is to let a guy screw you without a rubber? You are a horny girl. You’ll let me do whatever I want.” The heat of his breath left her hair and he stood again. Taking his hand from her center, he seized her hips and yanked her back to sink himself into her again.

Using that tight grip that bit deeper with every pull, he forced her back as he came forward and each smack of their colliding bodies grew louder and louder. On another climax, she screamed again and came up enough to reach back for his wrist. He shook her off to deliver a final series of punishing pounds and then he cursed out a sentence filled with her name.

It was while they stood together like this that she realized he had actually come inside her. Smiling, she flopped forward over the end rail of the bed and let herself grow boneless.

“You’re something else, Bandini,” he said and pulled himself out of her body.

From his tone, she couldn’t tell if he was being serious, joking, or scolding her. Making herself stand and turn, she chose to go with the second, although he was already turning away, so she couldn’t find any translation of his tone in his features.

“I’m your something else,” she said, trying to play it cool but realizing that some part of her not-so-subconscious was trying again to gain his view on the validity of their relationship.

Spinning around, he swiped her jaw and pulled her so close that her nose brushed his. “You don’t get it, do you?” he snarled. “I don’t do holidays and birthdays. I don’t do, ‘Good morning, sweetheart’ and ‘hi, honey, how was your day at the office?’ I don’t do nice and sweet and… I've been trying to be something I’m not with you and it fucking tears me apart to know that if you got a glimpse of the real darkness in me, you’d run screaming for your life.”

“Don’t you get it?” she said, pulling his hand down from her face and linking their fingers as she moved in close. “It’s because of the darkness that I want you. I want that danger and that excitement. All my life I’ve craved the adventure you take for granted.”

Shaking his head, he was unconvinced. “You want it because it’s new and you think it’s a game.”

She wouldn’t be patronized. “In that conference room tonight, with those men, those dangerous men, I knew the stakes. I knew there was a chance that they could hurt me. But I wasn’t afraid… I could feel you with me, in me, and you gave me the strength to stand tall without fear.”

His anger grew dominant in the face of what he perceived to be her naivety. But she got it, understood his fear, and it wasn’t enough to scare her away. “One day I might not be there and if you wade into this life now, because of me—”

“We’re all headed for that one day,” she said, quoting him.

Grazing her cheekbone with his fingertips, he bowed to get closer. “I won’t let you give up your life for this, for us.”

On a rush of anger, she slapped his hand away from her skin. “If you don’t want me, then say it. Don’t hide behind feigned virtue.”

Retreating, he spun away while rubbing the back of his head. Zara waited for him to cut her down. When he about-faced, he let his hand fall. “Of course I fucking want it! But I’m a selfish prick who takes what he wants. You need to look out for you and I am not what’s best for you!”

“Maybe being with you is my selfish too,” she said. After the adrenaline of the night and the hype of their lovemaking, she knew this was no time to be making decisions about forever because she was terrified he would veto any chance of a future. 

Taking his tee shirt up over her head, she stripped out of it and her dress, before crawling onto the bed and under the covers. Brodie didn’t join her. He leaned on the bedframe she’d been bent over during their fuck-bout.

“We’ve got the morning-after pill downstairs in the—”

Ceasing her smoothing of the covers, she frowned at him. “Why would you have—”

Showing her a palm to quiet her, he shook his head. “It’s part of Zave’s kit.”

“And that should mean something to me?”

“He and Thad, they… it doesn’t matter. But Thad’s a doctor, so he keeps us stocked with all the meds we need.”

Maybe when she was further embedded in the group she would understand what Zave and Thad were into. So far, all she knew was that Zave had a custom-built suite for locking up women and that he worked with Thad who kept the morning-after pill stocked with the first aid kit.

“I’m on the pill,” she said, sitting up to lean against the grand headboard.

With his hands spread wide, he supported his weight on the footboard of the bed. “You stopped taking the pill three months ago.”

“And your investigation skills become even more intrusive,” she said, but was actually impressed by how far reaching their detective work went and how accurate it was. “I had a couple of wheels left and I’ve already called my doctor for a refill.”

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

She would’ve thought that was self-explanatory but she wasn’t averse to letting her actions speak for her. Pulling back the comforter, she kicked it down out of the way and stretched her nude body across the bed. “Because I wanted to be ready for whatever you might throw at me,” she said, wearing a smile.

Zara hadn’t known what would happen between them, but she knew that boundaries were something they would stretch with each other. Having him inside her blurred her lines of sense and being able to cut loose with him was the most exhilarating experience of her life.

Sunday wasn’t a day off at McCormack Manor. Zara woke up alone and after getting lost, stumbling into a couple of guest bedrooms and a poolroom, she managed to find her way to the kitchen. There she found a stream of coffee. Art kept filling her with the caffeine while teaching her how to make his spaghetti sauce that he was preparing in bulk to freeze.

Art took her down a set of stone stairs at the back of the kitchen behind a false wall, which led to a walk-in freezer, a wine cellar, and a dry store. Art loved to educate her about the house and Brodie’s history and it was obvious that he doted on his nephew.

Once Tuck was finished working out with Brodie, he swept her into the basement to give her a brief tutorial of the security system and took her fingerprints to give her clearance for the house, cars, and systems. Art ventured in to give them coffee and food before taking her on a tour of the building. There were parts of the house they didn’t venture into and he made no comment on those, so she didn’t ask.

Tuck and Art were entertaining her in the control room when Brodie stuck his head in the door and demanded that she go with him. She expected sex and was surprised when he took her to a shooting range located on the premises and proceeded to teach her how to shoot. Much as she tried to flirt, he was all business… at least until she asked him to prove his own skills, at which point she dropped to her knees. If blowing a guy while he was unloading an automatic weapon didn’t show trust, she didn’t know what would.

Waking up on Monday, she panicked when she fumbled on the bedside and read Brodie’s watch. Zara was already in the shower before she remembered that she didn’t have a job anymore.

Reality fatigued her, but she couldn’t go back to bed. Dressing in her outfit from Saturday night, she found Art in the kitchen, and wasn’t surprised to find him already pouring coffee for her when she walked in.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the mug to slurp down the bitter roast that warmed her insides.

“All dressed up, are you leaving us?” Art asked.

“I have to find a job,” she said, bending to snag her shoes from the floor behind the couch where they’d been since Saturday night. Taking them and her coffee around to the coffee table, she sat down, gulped more coffee, then put it down to bend and put her feet into her shoes.

Art came over, drying his hands, and sat in the armchair at the head of the coffee table. “Tuck and me were talking,” Art said. Curving both hands around her mug, she raised her brows in question as she drank. “You’re a good girl, smart, capable, and social, which is something the rest of us lack.”

“You do ok,” she said, finishing off the coffee then rising to head for the pot. “And you make great coffee.”

Filling her cup, she drank some more. “You’re young and beautiful, I’m not much of an inside man at my age.”

Art wasn’t disguising his flattery and she was suspicious about what he was trying to sweet talk her into. “I’m sure you’ve seduced your share of assets,” she said, coming over to sit on the couch again, feigning ignorance to his fawning because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he wanted.

But it turned out that Art got to the point fast. “We want you on the inside, permanently,” Art said and she put the cup on the table because she couldn’t refuse to acknowledge his request, she had to face it.

Art might want her on the inside, maybe Tuck did too. But that Brodie wasn’t the one asking her made her suspicious. “What does Brodie say to that?” she asked, wondering if Brodie knew Art was talking to her about this. “You’re talking about future missions.” Which was something Brodie had been reticent to commit to.

He softened. “You’re good for him,” Art said and moved over to sit with her on the couch to take her hand. This was about more than the job, Art was asking her to be with Brodie. “Do you like staying here?”

Withdrawing her hand, she squirmed. “Don’t pressure him,” she whispered.

“I’m not press—”

Her night in Brodie’s bed, talking to him and being with him, affirmed her desire. She wanted to pursue their connection, to further explore her growing feelings. But Brodie was accustomed to being an island, so it would take time to ease him into a relationship, she would have to be patient, which meant Art would have to be patient too.

“If you push him, I’ll lose him,” she admitted, glancing over her shoulder toward the door in fear that they’d be caught having this clandestine conversation.

Art wasn’t as nervous. “I know how to handle my nephew,” he said. “And I don’t want to pressure you, ‘cause I don’t want him to lose you… I don’t want you to underestimate how important you are, do you hear me?”

Acknowledging, and appreciating, his honesty, she nodded. “I hear you,” she muttered with a blush of discomfort.

He caught her hand again. “He needs you and he does care—”

“Art,” she said then the door opened and Brodie came in with Tuck. The two of them stopped talking to examine her and Art as their sudden silence was conspicuous.

“All good?” Tuck asked, but she didn’t look at him as he examined everyone.

“Ok,” she said, grabbing another swig of coffee. “I have to go.” Leaping up from the couch, she bypassed the furniture and snagged the back of Brodie’s neck to drag him down for a kiss.

He caught her waist and hauled her close. “Where you going?”

“I’m going home,” she said, balling her fists on his chest. “I have to get changed, haven’t you noticed that I’ve been wearing your clothes all weekend?”

“No,” he said, leaving her to go to Tuck, who was retrieving water from the fridge.

Spinning to rest her hands on the back of the couch, Zara addressed Art, but spoke so everyone could hear. “The guy who is supposed to have super keen awareness doesn’t notice when I’m wearing clothes that are ten sizes too big for me.”

Art smiled, but Brodie replied when he and Tuck were on their way back to the couch. “That’s because whenever I look at you, I see you naked. Your clothes don’t matter a fuck to me.”

Brodie rested his body weight on her, so she was forced against the back of the couch. Tuck lowered himself into the armchair.

“Women are weird about that shit, man,” Tuck said. “You should probably let her pick up a few things.”

With the permission of the other men granted, Brodie grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in the direction of the exit. “Then I guess we’re going out. I’ve got shit to do anyway.”

Guiding her down to the garage, he pulled out the helmets for the bike then went to a second cabinet to retrieve a firearm. She had no idea what shit he had to do that involved a gun, but she was quickly learning not to ask the obvious questions because they often led to obvious answers like that he intended to harm someone.

He got on the bike and pulled her on behind him then handed over a helmet. “What should I say if the cops ever come to question me about what it is that you do?” she asked.

“We have cyanide capsules for that eventuality,” he said. “Remind me to get you one when we get back.”

Holding the helmet in front of her, ready to pull it on, she gazed down into the abyss inside it. “Oh my God,” she said.

“I’m kidding,” he said and rose to kick the bike into action. “If I go to jail one day, I go to jail… It’ll boost my street cred.”

She pulled on her helmet only seconds before he fired out of the garage. Being mixed up with men who lived on the wrong side of the law could never end well, but that didn’t put her off. The longer she hung around with them, the greater her chance of being pulled in and getting herself into trouble. They might exist in a grey area, but these were the good guys, and she was proud to be a part of this team.

Brodie left her at her apartment without any promises of returning. Zara wasn’t worried. Their paths never diverged for long and sure enough after less than an hour of being back at home there was a knock on her front door.

With a smile, she shook her head and left the dinner table where she’d been sitting with her computer, and crossed to open the door.

“You chose not to pick—“ But her words stopped when she saw Grant McCormack on her doorstep instead of Brodie. “Grant, hi.”

“Hello, Zara. Can I come in?” Grant asked, standing as tall as ever, yet wearing a more humble expression than she’d ever seen him wear.

Hurrying back a step, she widened the gap to allow him inside. “Sure,” she said, hoping that someone at the manor was watching the camera and would prevent Brodie from coming back, or that Brodie would take a while to do whatever he was doing, so he wouldn’t walk in on this encounter.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, directing him into the kitchen. “I wasn’t expecting to see you, well… ever.”

“I came to offer you your job back. I hoped this morning when I came in that I would see you… that maybe…”

“That I had changed my mind?” she asked, pouring each of them a coffee then leading him to the dining table, where she closed her laptop and sat down. “You’re right. I was angry on Saturday night… but you have to see this situation from my perspective.”

“I do,” he said, taking the seat beside hers and lunging forward to scoop her hand into his. “But I also know you didn’t do anything rash after we parted ways.”

“Like going to the police?” she asked and almost wanted to tell him that he had his younger brother to thank for that. “I thought about it…”

“Why didn’t you go?” he asked, flattening his hand on top of hers on the table. “Was it because you thought that maybe… that you started to understand my position?”

Not even close, but she couldn’t tell him that. If she had been brought into this by Grant having never met Brodie, then she would be freaking out. She would have gone to the cops and probably been laughed out of the room because as Brodie said, she had no proof and no witnesses.

Grant would never admit the truth. She had no way to track down Sutcliffe and the others, and if Tuck was having trouble collecting evidence with his superior skills then the cops would have no chance of finding anything.

By this point in proceedings, she would have been collecting bottled water and canned food and probably buying herself a plot of land in Montana to dig herself a bunker. But meeting Brodie had changed her outlook on so much and she could see now that being close to Grant was their ticket.

Gaining inside information had been her purpose since the beginning of this. The opportunity that Grant was presenting her with served the means of the Kindred and that was where her loyalty was now. Lying to Grant was still difficult, but being honest and respectful toward him was an engrained behavior, one that she’d have to shirk if she wanted to foil the deal.

Trying to think like a Kindred member rather than a CI employee, she projected empathy as best she could. “I understand what you’re trying to do,” she said, sweeping her hand around to bring it closer to her chest trying to be subtle about putting a barrier between them. “But I don’t trust the men you’re associating with. They’re dangerous… I could tell that just by standing in front of them. Are you sure you want to deal with these men?”

“I have little choice,” Grant said. “This is not something that I… I’m no criminal mastermind.”

Taking the opportunity to separate herself from him, she slid her hand out from under his and sat back, bringing her coffee mug to her chest at the same time. “Well, at least you admit that what you’re doing is illegal. I’m glad to hear that you understand that.”

His disposition unfurled with optimistic honesty. “I want to be a part of something bigger, a part of history.”

Ensuring not to be too hasty about insinuating herself back into his confidence, she questioned him. “And you think you can right all the wrongs of the world with a device made to kill people?”

“The right people,” he said, shuffling his chair closer to hers. “You have to understand that with this device we can pinpoint its use.”

He was bullshitting her. Stating the truth, she tilted her head. “You were talking about hospitals and airports.”

“That’s grandstanding,” he said, waving a blithe hand and leaning in with his eyes intent on hers. “This could be placed in a room where we know certain people are going to be. With the press of a button, those people could be infected and they’d carry that disease back to their nests… It’s like killing termites or ants. Have you seen how exterminators work?”

“But you’re talking about people,” she said. “And you can’t guarantee that there won’t be civilian casualties.”

“In war, there is always collateral damage.”

“This isn’t war, you’re talking about execution.”

Something in his dismissive air reminded her of Brodie. They could both talk about the potential for suffering with a complete disconnection to their humanity. Brodie she could understand, he’d taken dozens of lives. As far as she knew, Grant was a stuffed shirt who had never seen any form of combat firsthand. “And haven’t governments been assassinating hostiles for decades? For centuries? We can be a part of that.”

Now she had a chance to harvest information that could prove useful to the Kindred. “What do you know about these men you’re dealing with? How did you get connected with them?”