Raven (Kindred #1) (5 page)

His inhale was silent, but the rushed exhale was loud enough to signal his irritation. “Yes, I live around here and no, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“And a job? What’s your job?”

He paused before replying. “That’s a more complicated question. Now sit there and shut up. I’m just gonna ignore your fucking questions, which will piss you off again. Save yourself the hassle.”

Accepting that she wasn’t going to get any more information out of him tonight, Zara spent the rest of the journey enjoying the ride because at least while she was with Raven, she was safe. She didn’t know much about him yet, but at least she could say nothing bad had happened to her while she’d been in his presence and these days that meant something.

When he pulled up outside her apartment, he switched off the headlights but kept the engine running. “Record anything that you believe to be significant,” he said over his shoulder. “When I get back it will be useful to know Grant’s schedule, his routine.”

For a shady character, she noted how he slipped from cursing and clipping his words to enunciating without missing a beat.

Ensuring he knew her stance, she didn’t leave him with any illusions. “You don’t have my trust yet,” she said. “I appreciate the ride, Raven. But you’re still a party of one.”

Departing the cab, she knew it was important to portray confidence, because if he thought she was afraid of him, he would own her and may resort to harming her if he didn’t get what he wanted. So she didn’t look back.

Questions consumed her. She didn’t know anything about who this Raven guy was. Grant was anxious, which was out of character, and she was ignorant to the details. Figuring this out was going to be a frustrating process, but at least she had a name for Raven now. She was wiser this Friday than she had been last week and she speculated on what new revelations might be coming over the next week.

Eight nights later, on a Saturday, she had to talk herself into going on a date with Julian Scanlon, one of the firm lawyers. He’d been pursuing her for a while and Zara didn’t feel much electricity with him, so she’d been doing her best to deflect his advances.

But her encounter with Timothy still haunted her thoughts and taking the plunge with Julian was her attempt to get back to normality before she developed a complex about dating and was spooked for life. After their dinner, her opinion about Julian and their chemistry hadn’t improved, but she did feel a lot more relaxed about the general dating experience.

“I had a great night,” Julian said upon exiting the restaurant, which wasn’t far from Purdy’s. His moist hand was sticky and uncomfortable in hers, but when Zara tried to withdraw, he tightened his hold. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Very well educated, his only flaw was an awkwardness that followed him in social situations.

“Yes, it was a good night. The food was excellent,” she said, reaching for something positive to say.

His brief laugh didn’t seem genuine. “Maybe next time we should try somewhere further from work,” he said.

Julian’s idea of a date was not eating in a restaurant on the same avenue as their place of employment and he’d said as much when she suggested the eatery. He hadn’t voiced displeasure at her choice of apparel, but from the way his lip had curled as he looked her up and down, he made it clear he was unimpressed by her casual workwear of a loose short skirt and cowl neck top.

Zara wasn’t in the habit of making herself out to be more than she was, but Julian was rich and successful, so he was probably used to women making more of an effort to impress him. But with Zara, what you saw was what you got and if he disliked her dedication to hard work then there was no chance of any relationship between them.

That being said, he had been nothing but gracious and attentive all night, she couldn’t fault his manners. It wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t excited by him. “Yes,” she said, showing remorse in the smile she flashed in his direction as they walked down the block. “Sorry, I had some work to finish this afternoon. Thanks for meeting me at the office.”

A major bonus of dating a colleague was that he had security clearance to meet her at her desk. It also meant he’d have been background checked before taking his position, giving Zara some reassurance that he wasn’t deceiving her about his romantic interest.

Julian drew them to a stop at the corner of the block. “Should we get a cab?” he asked.

That implication prompted her to be more forceful in retrieving her hand, she wasn’t going to be rude, but she also didn’t owe him anything. “Actually, I still have some work to do.”

Surprised, and probably offended, his mouth dropped open. “Work? It’s almost ten at night.”

“Yeah, I’m a workaholic,” she joked, trying out a self-deprecating laugh. There were no pressing assignments, but Zara needed an excuse to refuse his request because returning to either his place or hers for a drink was the last thing she wanted to do when she wouldn’t be agreeing to see him again.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked, still unhappy with her declaration while not getting the subtle hint. “I’d like to continue our evening.”

“Maybe another time,” she said, hoping the gentle letdown would work because she didn’t want an enemy at work.

“You are a workaholic,” Julian said, agreeing with her earlier statement. “Grant works you too hard. I should talk to him about it.”

Julian had no influence over Grant. In all honesty, her boss didn’t have many friends who did. He had associates and contemporaries, who he socialized with when the occasion called for it. Julian was not one of those men. He wasn’t in Grant’s inner circle at all. But it was nice of the conservative lawyer to imply that he cared enough to stand up for her if need be.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, removing herself from him when he tried to get up close. “I’ll see you at work.”

Walking away from him before he had the chance to say anything else, Zara travelled the familiar route to the CI building. Staying on the edge of the pavement near the streetlights, she made a point of smiling at everyone she passed in hopes they would remember her if something unthinkable happened to her and they found themselves making a statement to police. Zara knew she was being paranoid, but with Grant’s odd behavior and everything Raven had said, the possibility that something bad could happen was a recurring theme in her thoughts.

Using her security codes, she got into the CI complex and assumed that the night guard was on his rounds when she didn’t see him at his desk. This was a nice time of night to be in CI. Usually it was a bustling hive of activity on the lower floors. Now it was quiet, still, and safe—the subdued emergency lighting was her only companion. The motion sensors, which activated the main lights, took a few seconds to register her movement. Once they did, the lights flickered on in her wake after she’d passed through each section.

The executive floor was cool because the usual ambient heat from lights and bodies had been abating since quitting time yesterday when the full staff departed. The lights on this floor were off because she deactivated the motion sensors at night before she left.

Heading in the direction of her own modest office, she passed the executive reception desk, and went behind the silver screen that blocked Grant’s office from passing eyes. Her office was small, but located adjacent to Grant’s in a testament to how impatient he was when he needed her.

Zara slowed when she noticed that the blinds over the internal glass wall of Grant’s corner office were closed. They’d been open when she left a couple of hours ago. The four walls of his office were smoked glass, so she should have a broad view over the buildings surrounding CI. Instead, she only saw the outside of his blinds.

Trying to decipher who could have closed them, she came up with only one candidate: Grant. Her fingerprint was one of two that opened his door. Even the cleaning staff was only allowed in when either she or her superior were present. Confusion and intrigue only grew the nearer she got because the door was actually open, which was another oddity. Either they were being robbed, or Grant was here.

She couldn’t think of what could be so important to bring her boss into work at this time of night, especially on a weekend. But Grant didn’t scare her, so her paranoia eased. Her boss didn’t even kill the spiders that snuck onto the top floor despite their lack of security clearance, so he’d never hurt her. The prickle of panic that had heated the back of her neck began to subside. 

Heading toward the door, she planned to find out why he was here and to offer assistance with whatever he was working on. But when she heard the rumble of an unfamiliar male voice, she slowed, and came to a stop beside the vacant outer assistant’s desk. The woman who sat out here during daylight hours was tasked with wrangling those waiting to see Grant, a job that Zara didn’t envy.

Her suspicion about Grant being here was confirmed when his voice followed the stranger’s. The warmth of her panic began to rise again. Craning to hear more, she narrowed her eyes and concentrated.

“No deal,” Grant said.

“I want both,” the unfamiliar voice said. She knew her job and who Grant was working with and that voice didn’t belong to any of their clients or colleagues.

The men weren’t exactly arguing because no one’s voice was raised, but their conflict leached from their hostile inflections. “Kahlil, I told you not to come here,” Grant said with the air of a man who had better things to do. “You interrupted my night for a meeting that should not be taking place. If your boss thinks he can threaten or intimidate me then he’s underestimated who he’s dealing with.”

“No, Mr. McCormack,” Kahlil said, speaking with ominous urgency. “We know exactly who we’re dealing with. Don’t forget who started this.”

Zara didn’t want to miss any hints about what they were talking about. Silencing her own thoughts and emotions, she absorbed their words.

Grant became stern. “You weren’t the only one who got the offer, and until I’m satisfied there won’t be a deal.”

“What you’re offering will change the course of the future,” Kahlil said, ambitious and declarative. “Don’t pretend you’re naïve to that. You don’t want to upset your buyer.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Grant sneered. “It’s been considered, you buy from me, and the contracts will be ironclad. If you try to come after me I’ll blow the whistle and ruin you.”

“Ruining yourself too.”

“Better that than dead,” Grant said. “You think I’ll do business with a man I can’t trust?”

“You said you perfected the kill switch,” Kahlil said.

“Yeah,” Grant said. “Don’t forget that.”

“You can trust us. Just don’t think that you can disrespect us. We protect ourselves too.”

Their grandstanding betrayed how unintimidated they were by each other. But without knowing exactly what they were talking about, or who Kahlil was, Zara had no way to know if she herself should be scared or if their composed aplomb was genuine.

Grant cleared his throat. “You called this meeting. If you’re losing your nerve—”

“We want to bring negotiations to a close. Name your price.”

Holding her breath, Zara almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. CI had no official business with this Kahlil, of that she was sure. Raven had been right; there was some sort of deal going down. Kahlil wanted what she assumed Grant was selling. Grant had told her Albert Sutcliffe would be calling. With him and Kahlil in the running, there were at least two parties going head to head over this elusive product.

“You’re impatient,” Grant said in a superior drawl. “That concerns me.”

A bang made her jump and she guessed someone had hit the desk. “What do you expect to happen while you’re dicking around? You have a product and we want to buy it. I foresee no issues with the transaction.”

“I like a man who can hold his wad,” Grant said. “Take that back to your boss, Kahlil.”

This clandestine meeting was not meant for her ears and if Grant caught her out here eavesdropping then he may question her loyalty. Despite this suspicious behavior, the Grant she knew was rational and moral. Storming in to make accusations could embarrass him in front of this Kahlil, and she didn’t want a confrontation.

Zara had no memory of a client named Kahlil ever being associated with CI and Grant always called her before unexpected or last minute meetings, even the private ones. Clueing her in on all meetings meant he wouldn’t forget anything and could call on her for information he hadn’t retained.

When Grant and Kahlil’s conversation tailed off, she began to back away. Remaining as quiet as she could, Zara got around the screen and went straight to the elevator. The night guard would be finished with his rounds by now, so if she went out the main entrance, he would recognize her, meaning he could identify her to Grant. Zara didn’t want her boss questioning her ethics when he found out she’d eavesdropped on his meeting. Determined not to reveal her presence, she selected the parking garage floor and began to descend.

The elevator doors whooshed open and she strode onto the dark parking floor, which was deserted at this time of night. Rounding the pillars flanking the executive parking area, she was heading for the pedestrian exit on the far side of the space where she could input a security code to release herself from the building unseen.

What she didn’t expect to see was a vehicle parked in the executive area that didn’t belong to Grant. The dark car didn’t belong to the person whose spot it was in either, and the nearer to it she got, the more uneasy she became. Up and down, she was riding the adrenaline rollercoaster again—the building she’d previously considered a sanctuary had become unsafe.

Carrying on through the echoing concrete cavern, Zara fixed the glowing exit sign in her sights and kept on walking. Dull emergency lighting glowed as her only means of illumination and she just kept on going, trying to get to the exit as quickly as she could while ignoring the car she hoped was vacant.

The click of a car door opening quickened her pulse and revealed to her that she wasn’t alone. The beat of her heels on the floor sped up. The thump of her heart vibrated her limbs until her fingers throbbed. A figure rose from the far side of the anonymous vehicle and her vision began to blur. Hopes of an easy escape dwindled when the car door closest to her opened as well and a second male appeared.

“What are you doing here so late?” the man furthest from her asked as he rounded the car to meet his buddy by the trunk. Both of them had tanned skin and dark hair, suggesting Middle Eastern ancestry, but his accent was American without any foreign nuance.

Neither of the men was familiar to her, so she doubted they knew who she was. Except she couldn’t pretend not to hear them or feign ignorance that they were talking to her, because there was no one else around.

“I’m just leaving,” she called. Keeping her focus ahead, she continued on her trek, determined to reach her freedom. Her destination shrank into the distance. None of her strides seemed to bring her closer to the door, which had never appeared so far away.

“Didn’t answer the question,” one of them said as both closed in on her.

No, she didn’t and she wouldn’t because she had no explanation. “Why are you here?” she asked. Turning the tables on them, she prayed that her direct question would prompt them to retreat. It was doubtful they wanted to reveal why they were here.