Swallow (Kindred Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  “Baby,” she exhaled and slid a hand from his chest up his neck to the coarse stubble on his jaw. “I killed him. The man who did this to me… I killed him.”

  The words were so quiet, she didn’t know if he’d heard them until the darkness in his eyes grew to an onyx glow. Just like that, the happiness dissolved and the gravity of truth hit her full force. The moisture she’d dammed in her eyes since Friday night came out and when her face fell into his chest, he kept hold of her neck and rested an elbow over her shoulder securing her against him.

  If she wasn’t so distraught, she might have worried that he was going to push her away as he had done so many times in recent months. But he didn’t. He held her close and used his other arm to adjust her position. She was still lost in her crying spree and didn’t pay any attention to what he was doing until he laid her down.

  Lifting her face from his shoulder, she swallowed and sniffed in the remnants of her upset. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” she said, wiping away her tears on each side of her face with the length of her index fingers.

  Lying on his side beside her, he smoothed the hair back from her forehead. Tearing her attention away from the ceiling, she blinked at him and saw him look at her, really look at her, for the first time in months.

  Being here, beside him, made every moment of torment worth it. He was still her man and if she’d ever doubted his affection for her, all of those doubts were erased now in the way he gazed down at her, bathing her in his adoration. “If I’d known it took getting beat up and almost sexually assaulted to get your attention, I’d have done it weeks ago,” she said and had meant it as a joke, but his expression lost its softness.

  “Now I know the what,” he said. “Tell me about the who.”

  Taking a deep breath, she wanted to start at the beginning and take full advantage of this opportunity to talk to him, as she’d wanted to since the crime had happened. “I had no idea,” she whispered, drawing her finger around the line of his tee shirt neck. “When I pulled that trigger it was… I warned him more than once…he hit the floor and he was just… staring.”

  “The police were called?” he asked and she nodded.

  It was a good sign that he was concerned for her liberty and for the heat that might now be on the Kindred. “They’re not pressing charges, they say it was self-defense. Kraft looked after me. He got me out of there without being seen.”

  “Why didn’t they take you to the hospital?” he asked.

  “Kraft offered,” she said. “But I knew it wasn’t that bad. I refused to see the paramedics. Kraft told me to take it easy, that I might be concussed. I hit my head on the sink.” She touched the bump on her hairline.

  “You’ve got a black eye,” he said, grazing the edge of her cheekbone with a fingertip.

  This was like the early days, them lying together in her bed, his hands arousing her with the simplest of touches. “I know,” she said, closing her eyes while he stroked his fingertips on her face. “I thought I was going to pass out when Elvis punched me. If his buddy hadn’t been there to hold me up, I would’ve been on the floor for sure.”

  When he stopped touching her, she opened her eyes and was wary of the darkness growing behind his scowl. “Why did he punch you?” he asked and the set of his jaw concerned her further. He wasn’t happy, she just couldn’t figure out why.

  Being honest, as Tuck had told her was so important, she told the truth, even though it might upset him. “I told him that you’d hunt him down if he didn’t let me go.”

  Satisfaction became pride. “You know me so well,” he muttered. Laying a hand on her thigh, he ran it up over her hip and her abdomen to let it rest beneath her breast.

  She had to make him see that there was no reason for him to be angry, because the man responsible for her pain had been eliminated. “Yeah, well, I saved you the trouble. When he dragged me into the bathroom and pulled his dick out, I shot him.”

  “Atta girl,” he said, pressing a kiss into her forehead.

  “I don’t feel proud,” she admitted and opened her hands on his chest to slide them up to his shoulders.

  He curled a finger under her chin to bring her eyes to his. “You should be. You did what you were supposed to. I should’ve been the one to put a bullet in the bastard. I diverted your call.” Falling onto his back, he pressed both hands into his face and took a deep breath that expanded his chest.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she said, reassuring him, assuaging any guilt he might feel. Doing his job, killing, didn’t make him feel guilty. But he didn’t have to spell it out for her, he felt responsible for Art’s death. Even though it wasn’t his fault, the doubt kept him questioning what he could have done to prevent the killing from taking place. “You would never have gotten there in time and there was no line of sight to the bathroom.”

  Rolling onto his side to glare down at her, his determination was back and it was something she hadn’t seen in him since before Art died. “You think I’d have taken him out from across the street?” he sounded insulted. “Any guy who dares puts his hands on my girl gets my attention up close and personal.”

  His girl. God, it felt good to hear him get possessive of her. “Brodie,” she whispered and rubbed her hands up and down his chest. In response to her unspoken request, he laid on his back to let her crawl on top of him to rest her head on his shoulder and caress her lips on his jaw. “Where have you been, beau? Why did you leave me?”

  “Because I’m a prick,” he said, twining his hands into her hair. “I forgot that there was a fight out there. I was too busy fighting a battle with myself.”

  His voice was clear and keen, he spoke with no equivocation, and that decisive certainty inspired her. “I would never have had the gumption to do what I did if it wasn’t for you,” she said. “You taught me to fight. There were twenty people in that room and not one of them did anything.”

  “Twenty people?”

  “In Purdy’s,” she said, if Tuck had filled him in, he had to know some of the particulars. “Grant asked me to go for a drink. He said I had to get back to my routine. I haven’t been into Purdy’s since before… you know. I thought it couldn’t hurt since I planned to spend the weekend at the manor. Boy, was I wrong.”

  Closing one hand around the back of her neck, he squeezed, holding her still while his other hand stroked her body. She felt so safe, nothing could hurt her in this place and with Brodie returning to form, responsibility left her purview. The Kindred was his jurisdiction, she was too, and her faith in his ability to protect both didn’t waver.

  “You probably saved the lives of everyone there,” he said. They laid with each other in silence for so long that her eyes began to close as her body surrendered to exhaustion. “But you and me have got to talk about our problem.”

  Being that there were so many problems in their lives, she couldn’t pinpoint what he was talking about but suggesting they had a private problem could spell bad news for their relationship. A blast of alarm woke her up. “Problem?” she asked. “What problem?”

  Clutching the back of her neck, he pulled her up and used his other hand to grip her chin. “Don’t ever hide anything from me again. It’s not your job to protect me. I’ve seen shit like this more times than you can count. Don’t hide yourself because you think the sight of you will make me lose it. Anyone ever touches you again, you come straight to me. Don’t think about it. Come to me.”

  He didn’t blink. The thump of his heart beneath hers shook her form and pumped in unison with the resolve radiating from him. “Ok,” she said and had to clear her throat to rid the squeak from her tone. She wasn’t scared of him chastising her. That he was angry proved the strength of his regard for her and any display of his feelings was stimulating. “I won’t ever hide from you again.”

  Pushing her head back onto his chest, he squeezed her tight, imprinting her body onto his. Zara was so grateful to have him here. She needed his strength. Tuck had clued him in an
d Brodie had come here to wait for her, to be here for her when she got back. Having a mission to think about focused his mind, and Zara wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her before now that a distraction was what he needed.

  With his fingers tangled in her hair, he obviously wasn’t as tired as her because his voice was alert. “Didn’t you tell me about somebody getting killed?”

  “I told you about the funeral I was going to. A CI VP was killed by a mugger,” she said. “And I found out that a member of Grant’s household staff was killed on the same day. Sutcliffe claimed responsibility, but it could just be a crazy coincidence and Sutcliffe’s being opportunistic by taking the credit.”

  Intrigue slowed his stroking hand. “Recognizing a coincidence is the first step to solving a mystery,” he said, easing her down onto the bed. “That’s what Art used to say.”

  “I know,” she said, sorry that she no longer had him to lie on. “Where are you going?”

  He left her alone and departed the room. Propping herself up on her elbows, she prayed that he would come back to her and a minute or so later, he did. With her laptop open and balanced on his forearm, his intent face was lit by the welcome screen.

  Seating himself in the corner, in his usual seat, he put the laptop on the dresser and began to type. While the computer worked to keep up with whatever it was he’d asked it to do, he looked at her still laid out on the bed.

  “Why did you move your shit into the guest room back at base?” he asked without prompting, which suggested that was a mystery that had plagued him.

  Getting the chance to be open and talk about their behavior over the last few weeks filled her with hope. The more they talked and were honest with each other, the easier it would be to move forward. “Didn’t seem like you wanted me in your room,” she said. “You were up watching TV or gaming or…” sitting in the dark staring aimlessly, which had been one of his favorite pastimes for the last three months. “You needed space and I didn’t want to crowd you.”

  “Move your stuff back, it’s still your room… even if I am being a shithead.”

  Self-deprecation wasn’t his forte, but she appreciated the sentiment enough to smile at his effort to sort of apologize. “I never thought for a second that loving you would be easy,” she said. “But I’m glad you pushed the boundaries and fell apart… if we can call it that.”

  “Call it whatever the hell you want,” he said, turning his attention back to the laptop.

  She couldn’t see the laptop screen. While she was interested enough to want to go over and check what he was doing, it had been so long since she’d had him here and engaged in her presence that she didn’t want to rock the boat by interrupting him. So she stayed put on the bed.

  Relaxed and reassured now that she was under Brodie’s control again, she hadn’t discounted the idea that she may be languishing in the after-effects of some drug Sutcliffe might have somehow poisoned her with at his compound. Shifting onto her side, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore her budding headache.

  “I thought you were gonna give your apartment up,” he said, not done with the discussion of their relationship. She was happy to talk about it, even if she was half-asleep. With Brodie around, she didn’t have to be vigilant, or cagey, what she saw with him was what she got and he’d deal with any trouble that might try to sneak up on her while she was sleeping.

  “I didn’t get around to it, not yet,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t think you spent every night at the manor,” he said. “And I didn’t want to think that you’d shacked up with another guy… ‘cause I’d have had to kill him and that would be a fucking shame for him.”

  “How would I have explained to him all the time that I spent with you?” she asked, tucking her hands up under her pillow, while her eyes remained closed. This weekend was the longest she’d gone without going to the manor since Art died. She was usually there at some point every day or at least every other day, to make sure that there was plenty for Brodie to eat. “And I was still having sex with you. That would be a tough one to explain to a new boyfriend too. You give me all the action I need, baby.”

  There was no response to her flirtation, but she didn’t think too much about it. If it prompted him to come over and play with her, she was happy to be his toy. Brodie drove this relationship, whatever he wanted, he got, and she loved it when he wanted her.

  “Hmm, I thought so,” he said. She cracked open an eye to try and figure out what his distant tone meant, but he was no longer looking at her, he was focused on the laptop again.

  “What?” she asked, intrigued. “What did you think?”

  He had to hear her interest, but he remained intent on the screen and his tone didn’t change. Whatever held his concentration didn’t let go of him for long enough to satisfy her curiosity. “Same caliber of bullet in both crimes,” he said and tapped a few keys. “Either the police work was sloppy and they haven’t made the ballistics connection yet, the ballistics were inconclusive or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Someone in the forensics department is on the take… and we both know that’s possible.”

  The ballistics evidence from Raven’s gunshots tended to vanish. He had guys on the inside, or rather Art did, she wasn’t sure how those relationships would be affected now that Art had fallen. Tuck had the ability to hack the systems and distort or destroy the evidence too.

  “Can you speak to someone?” she asked. “At the police department or the forensics lab or, you know, wherever, and find out why the pieces haven’t been put together?”

  He wasn’t as captivated by the computer now as he had been, but he was still reading something from it when he responded to her. “Maybe they have been and the police are still investigating and they don’t want the outside to know their hand yet. If someone is on the take, we don’t want them to know we connected the evidence.”

  With the explanation, her curiosity was satisfied, allowing her to relax. “Possible,” she said and closed her eyes again. “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “Word is, you and Tuck have already got an op running,” he said. The focus of his voice made her peek at him again, this time he was looking straight back at her.

  The way his hands went to the back of his head and his eyes narrowed made her wonder if he was accusing her of something. She sat up, steadying her weight on her hands behind her.

  “I told Tuck what was going on,” she said. “But he told me just to carry on as normal and today—“

  “You went with Sutcliffe, I know,” he said. The laptop clicked when he closed it, then he surged to his feet and strode to the bed. “Usually, when you have a suspicious death like the VP and the housekeeper, the first thing we would do is line up those connected with all of the victims and start crossing them off. You start with the most obvious people because nine times out of ten they are involved. If you get through the obvious, then you start looking at the less obvious. But we already know who’s responsible, so we don’t give a fuck if the cops have put the pieces together.”

  “We?” she asked, and pushed up to free her hands so they could cling to his shoulders when he sat down. “Are you…? I mean… are you… back?”

  “Back enough to notice that you’re naked.”

  If she had Brodie, then she didn’t need to have her private discussions with Tuck. Technically, they should talk as a group, but something else was more pressing, and it had nothing to do with business or Sutcliffe or even the Kindred. It made her heart beat faster and her skin flush. The core of her body swelled and her nipples tightened, he was looking at her, through her, and the intensity of his attention sapped oxygen from the room and squeezed her lungs.

  Dragging her nails over the fabric of his tee shirt, she drove them deep. “Being this close to you and with you… looking at me like that…” she said, collapsing onto her back. “I want to have sex with you.”

  Except with the exhaustion of her day creeping over her, Zara was
n’t sure that she was capable of doing much participating and an orgasm might make her head explode. With a feeble sob in her throat, she groaned and rubbed her hands over her face before letting her arms flop down. Brodie got up, stripped off his jacket and his tee shirt, then came down on top of her, bracing himself on his forearms.

  “You’ve taken care of me for long enough,” he murmured. “Let me return the favor.”

  Sliding down her body, he kissed his way south and his mouth opened over one of her breasts. When he sucked her nipple against his tongue, she relaxed a hand into his hair and realized that she wasn’t as tired as she thought.

  He left his task for long enough to lean over and kill the light, then came back to enfold his arms around her. “Brodie,” she whispered into the night.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  He kissed her lower lip, drawing it between his lips and slanting his mouth for a more thorough taste of her. Exuding her pleasure in a languorous moan, her legs and arms clenched around him. But he lifted up, easing her legs apart to let himself rise onto his knees to scrutinize her naked form.

  With his hands hooked under her legs, he pulled her to slide her closer to him and when he widened his knees, they pushed her thighs further apart, forcing her wider.

  “How wet are you?” he asked. “You gonna take my dick now?”

  Hooking one of her calves around to his back, she kept it twined around him when he bent to let his fingers sink into the cleft of her body. Using her own juices, he coated her and slid his fingers around her clit, opening and closing them to squeeze and torment her with every sculpting move.

  Her body squirmed in time with the stimulation he provided. Her back arched to undulate her hips against the strength of his invading hand, which went deeper until his fingers were lost inside her. She could feel the knuckles of his liberated digits writhing and kneading against the damp pleats he’d moistened to aid him in tantalizing her.